Admin
Administrator 
brect[M:-2154]
Posts: 3,754
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Post by Admin on Feb 4, 2012 21:48:05 GMT -5
Here we go again,
I kinda wanna be more than friends,
So take it easy on me,
I'm afraid you're never satisfied.
The ruling Queen's shining copper hide stretched and relaxed with each calm breath she took, the soft skin warmed by the planet's sun. She lay atop the rim, having claimed half the bowl as her own. Any dragon who drew too close to the hatching cavern risked her ire when she was awake and her rider was constantly distracted from her important work with informing her dragon of her irrationality. In fact, Fajra was walking on pins and needles. More than ever, she was tense, tired, and strained. Things weren't going well and that was the long and the short of it. They weren't dead, but she wanted to achieve some excellence and to maintain some level of respect. Of hope. It wasn't happening and Kalith wasn't helping. Knowing that it would only grow worse once the copper stopped smugly basking after her flight and clutched, Fajra found it hard to lower her stress level.
As evening once more settled over the Weyr, Kalith's swirling red eyes opened, full of hunger, lust, and anger. It was a heady mix of emotions, but she knew exactly where to direct it. She opened her wings and dragged them across the stone as she strode to the edge of the rim, rising as tall as she could upon her awkward limbs. Every muscle gave and took, flexing with power and giving her an air of grace. She was the Queen, the only Queen. Not for a day, not for a moment. She was the Queen until the day of her death and she dared anyone who wanted to try to kill her. With a deafening roar, she swooped down to the feeding pens, sending the tiny beasts running from her. She moved lazily, taking her sweet time in selecting a beast before she promptly slaughtered it.
Blood it; Fajra ordered. Her voice within her mind was as cold and cutting as her physical voice could be. In stark contrast, she gently bounced the toddler in her arms to try to get her to sleep. She was tense, completely on edge, but she tried not to show it too much. As she forced her ferocious beast to play the vampire, she turned to her bed. O'sho was already there. "She's rising;" she said in her most pleasant voice, though he'd likely sense the tension behind it. Trying not to distract herself from Kalith too much, she reached out to Afzal, eyes completely glazed. The bronze firelizard popped out of between and she gave him his orders. "Fetch Fahra;" she murmured, picturing her sister's face for the flitter to see. Not pleased by the picture, Kalith screeched out in the bowl.
"No need, Weyrwoman Sister Dearest;" Fahra drawled with a grin as she slid off Eriputh's back into the weyr. She opened her arms and beckoned with her hands for the toddler. "Come here, Tiroshel." The strawberry red-blond baby made a frowny face, but wrapped her arms around her aunt's neck when she was handed to her. "You two have fun;" she drawled with a big grin and twinkling eyes.
"It won't be that fun."
"Lies. Eriputh has flown. I know you lie."
"Kalith isn't fun."
"Don't worry. Daidoroth'll probably win too. I'll eat my socks if he doesn't."
"You don't know Kalith."
"Says the woman who sassed a copper hatchling to keep her from mauling someone because it would be a waste of bodies." Fahra said. Her sister couldn't come up with a response, so she disappeared with a grin, toting a frowning Tiroshel. Eriputh launched herself off the ledge to return to Poseith at Fahra's direction. F'ton could help keep her for breaking the somber child who she held.
Fajra barely noticed the greenrider leaving. Handing over her child to another person, even a blood relative she'd help raise, was not pleasant, but she was too preoccupied to consider it like she normally would. Kalith was blooding a second kill and her blood was running hot. Any male or truthfully any dragon at all who drew too close to her earned a shriek. The feeding grounds belonged to her. Her! Did they not understand that it was hers? Everything was hers. Everything. Hers. Thoughts were simplified for Fajra as well as her dragon. However, while she felt muddled, Kalith felt absolute clarity about everything. She finished a third beast, leaving its carcass for the flies. Then she lunged into the air with a thunderous roar, rising up into the painted, colorful autumn sky on powerful wings.
The feeling of being muddled melted away from Fajra. There was one sharp moment of clarity where she grabbed the front of O'sho's shirt and held him firmly at arm's length. Then she was Kalith, snaking her way through the sky and far away from the Weyr. They were rage and passion, ready to kill and yet restrained for the moment. It was not about love. It was not even yet about lust. It was first and foremost a test. Kalith flew with speed, higher and higher, because she wanted none to follow. Any who did risked her ire, but she was worth it, wasn't she? Any who did follow her would be hers. Only hers. Hers, same as the sky was now hers. It was always hers. She was the Queen and that is why she dared to fly, straining up and up towards the wispy clouds the littered the western air.
Here we go again,
We're sick like animals,
We play pretend,
You're just a cannibal.
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster 
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266 
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Post by Lan on Feb 5, 2012 4:30:49 GMT -5
Fahra comes, Poseith informed F'ton, although his voice seemed farther away than usual. As Fahra made her way into his weyr he walked out to welcome her with a quiet smile. What he didn't expect, though, was the child in her arms. For a second he froze, but upon realizing the toddler's age he relaxed and smiled again. Fahra must be babysitting. Well, F'ton was good with kids. "Who's this, then?" He asked, waving at the child with more enthusiasm than he would have shown for an adult. Echelon came 'round, whistling and humming different happy melodies in an attempt to make Tiroshel smile. For what seemed like a little while he made sure they were comfortable, not at all minding the intrusion but rather enjoying the company.
Then, quite suddenly, Poseith launched from his ledge and took to the air. F'ton staggered, dropping to his knees as he tried to grasp for some clarity. This wasn't like other flights. This wasn't Eriputh's or Naireth's. Something felt stronger about this flight--something felt ireful and powerful and it crawled under his skin and tore at his insides. He gasped for breath. Shards, Poseith... now? Who are you chas- The answer met his mind just before he finished asking the question. Copper hide flashed before his eyes and an intense presence made him instantly aware of who it was. Oh no... NO!
"Shells... Fahra!" He reached out for her, fumbling, his mind not able to focus for much longer. F'ton wavered between Poseith's vision and his own, and with each passing second he was becoming less and less himself. But he had to tell her what was happening! Oh Faranth, what was he going to do? "Poseith... Poseith's chasing Kalith..." His voice, normally so calm and controlled, was breaking with a sense of urgency. He needed this to not be happening right now. He needed her to help him. Oh, shards, he didn't know what he was going to do! Then, in that moment, he blacked out. Copper and iron filtered into his vision.
Poseith roared valiantly, chasing after Kalith without fear of loss or limb. He thought not of her as his mother, nor of himself as her son. Daidoroth, which was invariably also in the chase, he held no affection for as his father. All he knew was that Kalith was a Queen and he was a King. It was the duty of a King to chase after his Queen. Her passion and intensity flowed into him, making him stronger and driving him to fly ever faster after her. He'd proven his ability to catch Tans and Greens, but now he'd test his mettle. Now he'd push his limits. It was now or never...
The iron flew as high as Kalith dared to fly. She was the Queen of the sky and Queen of the ground and Queen of the waters. Kalith was Queen of everything. So Poseith would fly after her and be hers. He was hers to test and hers to try. He would keep flying until his wings could no longer find air and his muscles could no longer find strength... and then he would keep flying. For it was his duty. This was his place. Kings should chase Queens, for they had always chased Queens.
F'ton was gone. If he had wanted to find Fajra's weyr, he could not have done it on his own. The waves of emotions swept over him, racking his body like nothing he had ever felt before. It was painful. It was terrible. It was electrifying. He was wholly Poseith, though he had no wings to carry him to the one place he needed to go. He was strong and powerful, chasing after the Senior Queen of Dalibor Weyr like few others were able; and yet he was helpless and unable to stand, much less walk on his own two feet. He needed help. In this state, there was no way he'd make it. As he tried to stand he reached for Fahra to guide him. For, even if he couldn't make it, he had to try--just as Poseith had to chase. They had no choice in the matter. |
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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 Feb 5, 2012 15:59:43 GMT -5
The sight of the brilliant Copper queen in the darkening sky was anything but surprising to the bonded Bronze pair that. The signs had been unmistakable and not at all unexpected: Kalith’s hide had begun to glow- a combination of colors that O’sho with his artist’s soul could only wish to capture or describe and that Daidoroth, as love-struck as he was, could only admire. The Bronze had tactfully removed himself from the large weyr they shared when Kalith had begun to act more dangerous than usual, frequenting the cliffs when she slept or resting on their ledge when she chose to sun herself elsewhere. Though he had been flying regularly, with and without His, to become stronger for threadfall and to be ready when Kalith flew, Daidoroth had stopped his excursions. The very thing that drove him to action was now preventing him from it.
Daidoroth rose to his feet when Kalith opened her eyes. The two perfect orbs of red burned across the Bowl in the young night. Instinctually, her knew it was time. The great Bronze spread his wings and answered her deafening roar with his own fierce reply. He flexed his wings and clawed at the edge of the cliff, eyes focused unerringly on the feeding pen below where his queen slaughtered as she pleased, ending the life of the hapless animals within with no effort at all. The sight and smell of the blood rising from the pen all but drove Daidoroth to blood his own creature; they would both fly farther that way, and the end result would be even sweeter. Though his uncharacteristically impatient behavior made him seem like only a young suitor, he managed to retain his composure and his perch until Kalith launched herself off her last carcass and into the sky. With another echoing roar, Daidoroth shot off in pursuit, the force of his takeoff sending waves of wind over the two Weyrleaders in the room behind him.
By the time Daidoroth’s wings battered them with wind, however, the Weyrleaders were already estranged enough from their realities that they weren’t phased in the least. Fajra’s warning that Kalith was flying was unnecessary- O’sho had sensed it the moment that Daidoroth had. His bonded had been so focused on the Copper the past few days that O’sho had been aware of her every move. The intense feelings of passion had hit him like a wave, but like Fajra he remained calm. He rose when Fahra arrived, bowing to her from across their room and watching with guarded relief and desperation as the young Rider carried off his daughter.
They were left alone.
O’sho advanced slowly towards where Fajra stood, the world around him already narrowing so that the woman in front of him was all that he saw. He stopped, perhaps a little too close, as she reached out and grabbed his shirt with a steely grasp that seemed impossible for a woman of her size and strength. He stared at her down the length of her arm, his eyes beginning to smolder. When she saw the sky and no longer his face, O’sho stepped back. He would ride out the flight half by her side, and half in the sky. Both he and Daidoroth would be behind their ladies until they so chose, if they did at all, to grace them with their choice. Neither would ever challenge this choice, despite the implications, because the one emotion they held for the Queen pair that raged stronger than all the others was respect. Only if they were chosen would that emotion be set aside for a while…
As Kalith climbed, Daidoroth followed. He was aware of the fact that he and Kalith were not alone- that there was an Iron in the sky alongside him. His competitor was only given brief acknowledgement and then nothing. It would have been foolish for him to divide his attention in such a way. Nothing rivaled Kalith for his attention- not even Rubkat as it retreated across the sky. He pumped his wings and surged forward, leaving thoughts of the Iron behind. He would stay close to his Queen, as close as she allowed. To go too close would be to trespass on her choice, and besides that to risk being ripped from the sky. Though Daidoroth was mostly unscarred by her claws yet, he did not delude himself into thinking that he was safe from them.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Feb 5, 2012 18:39:34 GMT -5
A low cloud haunting the seas south of Dalibor exploded. It birthed a writhing spirit that glittered under the early starlight, the strikes of its thin wings beating back the moist remains of its mother nimbus. Without a sound it pursued the stone hollow of the Weyr, the rider upon its back gasping out his held breath.
For a moment, though he urged his dragon ever onward, H’land watched over his shoulder. Pockets of green light marked the Crescent cliff, but the skies were free of burdens still. His ribs trembled on his first air taken since between, the blessing of it burning in his lungs like dragon-fire. When he twisted back around in his impromptu saddle, smirking, the Bowl was already beneath him. And it was too late for anyone to stop him: his dragon dropped his head long enough to identify the queen, who for all her size was just another beautiful blot from the air. Beekth's eyes wheeled conservative greens and he banked around the sloping southern line of the Rim, overshooting the Weyr’s exit and then stooping on the forests beyond.
H’land tucked his chest to the blood-colored ridge ahead of him as his dragon’s head and neck kept descending till they were nearly vertical to the treetops. The canopy got very close very fast, but Beekth’s trajectory slipped them in the tiniest fissure between leafless branches, and the dragon’s massive rear legs flicked forward like a switchblade and slammed onto the frigid ground. H’land was scrambling off when he noticed the wild wherry buck pinned under Beekth’s talons, the small-winged Bronze tearing open its throat to get at the blood inside.
She allows no one near, Beekth relayed curtly before he craned his gold-green head up, the wherry’s neck still crushed in his jaws. He snapped back off the earth. Pearls of green ichor rolled down his front, shaking off as he made hard flaps for the upper atmosphere. He released the bird before it was dry, tucked his legs in to his belly, and lanced after Kalith the moment she appeared over the Bowl’s brim. Now his eyes burned the proper red, and H’land squinted after his other half to pay witness to that amorous sparkle for as long as he could.
With the feeding grounds to herself, the Copper had no doubt collected a fat share of kills, and poor Beekth got only one. But that was probably one more than his competitors. The Bronze had a good head about the situation, at least in his rider’s opinion. H’land glanced around the dank, brown undergrowth he had been left in: a shallow valley snuggled close enough to the Weyr's foundation that he could spy glowlight beyond the eastern brim. It would be a pretty long way to worm to reach his goal, but it was a Queenflight so he had the time.
Beekth, and H’land, knew a lot about Queenflights. The glints of red in the Bronze’s otherwise dark hide were infamous signatures after that little show of force at Benden. They had not been invited. And there, they had lost. Eastern Weyr had been forced to take measures. But here they were; H’land cackled, leaning against an incline he meant to climb. One of his hands closed on a root sticking out of the dirt wall, the other wrapping along his own sharp jaw, fingers trailing down his neck as his spirit ascended after the challenging queen.
For a while he was with Beekth, looping through the purple evening, mindless of the other players in this dance except where their wings and scaleless bodies clipped close to his. He always wove away, slithered through, spending as little energy as possible. The Bronze did not roar but soon his mouth opened and his coppery tongue lashed as he swallowed much-needed breaths, rumbling in desire where greater sounds would have overspent him. The heavens welcomed him, wind tickling his wings without straining them, and he was left all possible reserves for the process of shooting Kalith from the sky.
H’land jerked back from the muddy wall, feet landing in a streambed that was, thankfully, dry at present. He still had dirt flecks caked all over his face and his shirt. He had not made any progress in climbing the wall. He’d been sort of mashing himself into it. ...oh. The Bronzerider made a face and waved his fingers down his front a few times, to little effect.
This aerial show, though pleasant, was not the reason he had endeavored to Dalibor. It was the after that counted. Those tyrants at Eastern had no right to bar him from the political spoils. And Dalibor’s current man was old, wasn’t he? Silver-flecked. Pretty much dead. H’land was no spring chicken, but he and Beekth were in their prime. So, honor the customs, dance the dance, and it would only be justice done for them to have a Weyr of their very own.
Beekth was not in the fight for quite the same reasons, but they had lived all their lives in a happy agreement of where they would go, and who they would be.
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Feb 5, 2012 18:39:54 GMT -5
News traveled fast through the void. E’nit’s awareness of the upcoming copperflight at Dalibor, combined with his friendship with the ambitious H’land, had led him to station his blue firelizard near said Weyr; the little one had exploded back onto the scene at Eastern Weyr, and before E’nit could counsel his friend, the bronzerider had gone. Off on yet another attempt to snatch Weyrleadership out from under everyone’s noses, it appeared. After all, wasn’t that the reason the firelizard had spied for them? So they’d know the exact time of the flight?
E’nit was content enough in his Wingleader position, and when he mounted iron Mycroth, it was not with the intention of joining in. No, in fact he was rather concerned. It was always somewhat dangerous to undertake a flight at a Weyr which was not one’s own; if Beekth were to be mauled and H’land had somehow gotten a bit lost...
He clicked his tongue, and they vanished between at Eastern, only to reappear moments later outside of Dalibor. The blue firelizard had returned first, and guided them in to where H’land struggled along, making his way toward the Weyr; a wry smile twisted E’nit’s lips, and he slipped off of his dragon’s back. “This is no way to appear as Dalibor’s newest Weyrleader,” he said, catching at the bronzerider’s wrist, knowing that by now the bronzerider’s mind would be half lost to the overpowering lust. “Stay a moment. We’ll fly you there when it’s all over.” And of course, if Beekth somehow did win, H’land would need a substitute; E’nit almost offered to take him to the Weyrwoman, but didn’t she have a weyrmate? It would be the height of rudeness not merely to intrude on Kalith’s flight, but on Fajra’s weyr as well, knowing they were unwanted in either place. Most riders didn’t particularly care about flightsex, even if they were weyrmated, but in this case, it was best to err on the side of caution. If Fajra took offense to their arrival, it might still translate to Kalith through their bond, causing her to strike Beekth from the sky. That would not do at all.
Mycroth’s tail flicked, his eyes on the very distant forms of dragons, dwindling into the sky. I could at least take you to the Bowl, he told His, but in a rather cool way. The iron was never talkative, but there were hints of something unusual in his mindvoice; E’nit scrutinised him, then let out an oath at the sight of purple eyes.
“Go on, then,” he said, and Mycroth flung himself into the sky, leaving the two men alone and far from Dalibor. Folding his arms across his chest, he eyed H’land as the beginnings of lust stole over him. “You know, they told me to watch over you and make sure you didn’t try something like this, and I sincerely hope you plan to reward me for going along with it. Or at least stick up for me when we get back to Eastern.” E’nit was calm even in the face of all this, in part because he didn’t truly think he had anything to worry about; flightlust was incredibly disconcerting, but Mycroth had never won before, barely even chased. He certainly wouldn’t be flying with the ambition of Beekth or desire of Daidoroth.
Indeed, Mycroth cared not for the potential of leadership that this flight brought, nor particularly for the welfare of his rider or Kalith’s; he simply found the copper enticing. Stamina and endurance, those were what he brought to the table. Kalith winged fast, and Mycroth simply kept a steady beat of his wings, slowly closing in on the rest of her chasers. He was a steady-minded dragon and had no intention of capturing her by force; one did not treat queens that way. No, if he were to win her, it would be by proving himself her not-entirely-humble servant, by outlasting the other suitors, or simply by convincing her that he was the best of the lot.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Feb 6, 2012 1:01:12 GMT -5
So… It was true… The Queen had risen again. A dragon head raised off his forepaws at the realisation and eyes swirled with flightlust. Awston felt it too from where she was in the Lower Caverns. Desperately, she fumbled to catch her dragon’s mind, trying to control the blue. He was a fool if he thought Chasing was the answer but her mind was not her own as the blue stood in the place he had been waiting for Awston’s return.
What greater challenge is there than a blue chasing a senior Queen? No blue has ever succeeded before and I believe it would be a most wonderful thing for me to achieve. I am Sholth, I have a great mind, how hard can it be to befuddle the weak minds of other dragons and bar them from the flight? I am faster than those large dragons. Should I catch her quickly they would not stand a chance.
And risk the whole Weyr for your ego? If you caught her too soon who’s to say she would even have enough eggs!?
My dear Awston, that matters not. A challenge beckons.
With that, a blue dragon joined the flight. He did not bother with blooding a kill like those foolish Kings. He would catch the copper quicker if he forewent that minor detail. Certainly, he was faster than the other suitors but his endurance would not last long. Already, with the gliding of the Queen, Sholth was struggling a little. He said nothing but allowed his flying to speak for him. Where in other flights he might have called out to the female, this was one where he remained silent. There was nothing to be said. As swift as he was, there was no denying the strength of his competition.
Awston struggled with herself. There would be nothing worse than getting to the Weyrwoman and yet nothing better. She wanted her… She didn’t want her. Deep down, Awston knew she wouldn’t get there in time anyway, she was on the opposite side of the Weyr. Instead, she would have whomever would take her if it truly came to that. This, she could not deal with. The embarrassment that came with Sholth’s decision, the horror if he somehow managed to succeed! The shame if he brought about the ruin of their Weyr. Awston felt him overtake her and instantly, she was Sholth, flying desperately to catch his Queen.
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Gray
Wingrider 
grayct[M:-350]
Posts: 870
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Post by Gray on Feb 6, 2012 2:19:20 GMT -5
He was tending a threadscore across his shoulder when he noticed a change. At first it was easy enough to ignore. He had to wash the area before having more numbweed applied to it and a new bandage put on. It was simple enough, especially since the scoremark was fairly shallow and small. The 'prize' of a bad turn. He was about to take the bandage off when Rirth stood.
Rirth?
The brown did not answer. He paused for a moment, breathing deep, his chest expanding to show muscle under creamy brown flesh. He had paused to think, but there was little reason to. The decision was already made. His eyes were darkening to that purplish red they took when he chased.
It is time to chase. The stocky brown was quick to take to their weyr ledge. He gazed over the grounds, spying Kalith shimmering like a copper star. He would not blood. No, he would not have the time, she had claimed the grounds. They were hers. He was not one to argue. His wings spread to an impressive length and he plunged from the edge, catching the wind and riding it into the air.
There were others, but they were of little concern. Two irons and a bronze. Impressive, but size was not enough. He would be faster than them. He may not have as much stamina, but he had the speed they did not. He had almost not noticed the blue. A blue? A blue dared to chase their queen? If Rirth were a more impulsive dragon, he would be enraged. He was simply confused. Let the blue chase. He would not last long. He turned his attention to her. It should have never strayed. She was his goal. His queen. He was loyal to her, to his weyr, and he would prove he could bring them strong children.
In his weyr, A'kai just laughed softly. Rirth had chosen to chase the queen? He had no qualms. The brown knew enough to back out if it got too dangerous. Pulling his shirt back on, he started to make his way through the halls. Part of him felt bad, O'sho was his Weyrleader, he had no right to usurp him if his brown won. Though A'kai could not deny that he wanted the weyrwoman. He wanted to love her, and he wanted her to love him. Though he was sure that was the dragonlust speaking. His pace was not overly hurried, but languid. He would get there soon enough. He could go slow, A'kai did not want to intrude too much.
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Admin
Administrator
brect[M:-2154]
Posts: 3,754
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Post by Admin on Mar 1, 2012 0:44:57 GMT -5
Here we are again,
I feel the chemicals kickin' in,
It's getting heavy,
And I wanna run and hide.
((You all wrote beautifully, so my apologies for only this reply!))
Though safely tucked into her aunt's grasp, Tiroshel glowered at F'ton when he spoke. Echelon, however, did succeed in earning a small smile. She was a dragonblooded child, if rather lacking in empathy, and still a toddler as well; the cheerful whistles of a firelizard did much to cheer her up. "This is Tiroshel;" Fahra said, bouncing her toddling niece. However, her words fell on deaf ears, at least when it came to F'ton. He was gone and his next words did not surprise her. Who else would Poseith be chasing? She frowned, her own eyes going out of focus as she settled into Eriputh's mind. The green was looking skyward, following her favorite piece of furniture's progress as he followed Kalith into the air. Shaking her head, Fahra pulled herself back to the present problem: Tiroshel.
Fahra knew the responsible thing to do would be to fly off with Tiroshel and do right by her sister, but what about F'ton? Poor, pathetic F'ton. He reached for her and her mind was immediately made up. "Give me a sec;" she grumbled at the young ironrider, waving one hand at him. Tiroshel glowered at her, as if suspicious. She stuck her tongue out at the child as she bespoke her dragon. I need Kalenna, dearest, my own.
Your sister's dragon is trying to steal my man; Eriputh replied, her voice more amused than agitated.
Your man? Fahra thought; then she shook her head. I think your man is trying to steal my sister's dragon. Kalenna, Eriputh.
The troublesome green buckled instantly under her rider's sudden sternness. Kalesk, bring your handler to F'ton's weyr.
"A moment, a moment;" Fahra told F'ton, voice distant and absentminded. She waved a hand at him, as if that would be any consolation. Bouncing a bored Tiroshel, Fahra leaned against the wall and waited. She wasn't good at waiting and there was nothing entertaining about a stricken F'ton. She would have asked Eriputh for updates on Kalith's progress, but she doubted the flight would be anything but bloody and bloody wasn't funny. However, at long last, at least in her mind, Kalenna arrived and she promptly shoved a disgruntle Tiroshel into the betahandler's grasp. "Have fun! Now run! Run!" Grinning from ear to ear, she shoved the older woman back into the stone hallway. "Take good care of her or Fajra will have your head. And mine. But more yours."
Responsibilities shoved onto another person's shoulders, Fahra turned back to F'ton. "You are so useless;" she muttered in his ear as she threw her arm over his shoulders. Despite her words, she wore a lopsided smile. Her voice was affectionate and fond. "You better be sharding glad I'm your best friend;" she told him as she dragged him towards his bed. "And I hope Poseith loses. And tell him to chase greens. Or pinks. Cyans. Whatever." She shut herself up by giving him a big kiss on the lips.
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Kalith knew each suitor who joined her chase. She did not know them by name, of course, but she knew how they acted, how they flew, and how they moved. Up she climbed and up they followed, an iron, a bronze, another bronze, a second iron, a blue, and a brown. While odd, Sholth gained little of the copper's interest. She had been previously chased by a blue; it had angered her then, but now? It was unimportant. The strange became normal in its time. Truthfully, none of her suitors were important for a number of minutes. She had to fly and they had to followed and they would damn well put up with it. Thus up she flew and up and up and up and up. Then at long last, as thick clouds swirled around her, she arched her body, folded her wings, and dropped towards the distant sea.
All in all, the drop she made was short, only a few times the length of her rather large body. Then she flared her wings and let the air catch her, hurtling forward and up with the help of well-trained muscles. Her suitors jumped to the forefront of her mind, her interest in them only second to her interest in thwarting their efforts. The first iron was dispassionate in her eyes; she liked a little fire, if only because it was far too easy to eat what didn't bite back. The second iron was much the same; he lacked the leadership potential. Even flight-crazed, she knew he didn't stand a chance in her Weyr. The first bronze was acceptable, if a little boring, but at least he kept his distance. The second bronze had more of an issue with that, or at least he could not hold his tongue.
On top of that foreseen insolence in the copper's eyes, Beekth was an interloper. Sholth was at least a loyal subject, ringing a distant bell in her short memory. He was interesting too. In fact, in all her judgments, he fared the best, except for his floundering flight and complete inability to keep up with the big dogs. No, Beekth was worse than any lowly blue, because Beekth did not understand that next to her, he was just as lowly as any blue. They all belonged to her and that was a privilege they were allowed to enjoy, not a right. In part, her judgment of the bronze was also most likely rooted in a need to make an example of someone. She would not croon to each and every one of them. She would not look them over carefully. She would judge and she would judge harshly.
With a flip of one wing, she looped herself back around in a tight circle. Then she let out a shriek, lunging at Beekth, intent on biting his neck. If any of the other wanted to interfere, she'd ripped their bloody wings off and one must believe that their wings would be bloody at that point. However, beneath Kalith's rage, there was another presence. Fajra was one with her Queen, but there was a divide in morality. Or more, there was a divide in common sense. At her core, Fajra knew mauling Beekth was a stupid move. It would be bad. She couldn't articulate why it would be bad at that moment, but she knew it would be unproductive and thus she fought it. She gritted her teeth. She dug in her heels. She shrieked her own defiance at a sky she was physically no where near.
Kalith caved. Or more, redirected their combined interest. She withdrew her neck from the general direction of Beekth, not about to let him entangle her. She had length on him and she had experience mauling suitors. He should be glad to be shown mercy. However, the copper was no longer worrying about Beekth, because as she jerked her body away from him, half rolling, half tumbling through the sky, she collided with Daidoroth. It was an intentionally collision and a forceful one at that. Her claws scrambled over his hide as she tore him from the air. Eventually, her wings entangled with his, her feet found his. Her neck pressed to his. It was hard for Daidoroth to go out of fashion in her mind against blues, interlopers, and useless youth. Knowing how to play the game can be useful. Mine.
As soon as Kalith broke off her attack on Beekth, Fajra sought out O'sho. She knew the instant her dragon picked her latest mate. Or her continued mate, as it were. However, her interest in O'sho went deeper than that. After all, he was truthfully hers, more than Daidoroth would ever belong to Kalith. He was hers.
I wanna run and hide,
I do it every time,
You're killin' me now,
And I won't be.
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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 Mar 2, 2012 0:34:35 GMT -5
Daidoroth climbed after his Queen, feeling the strain in his muscles and wings with delight. Kalith never made things easy for him- Kalith always made him rise to his best- him and all the others. He still paid no attention to his fellow suitors, instead focusing on each intake of cold, thin air and each heavy flap of his wings. His eyes were trained ahead, always fixed on Kalith alone.
He knew her body well enough that he could tell when she was about to dive, though it gave him no advantage other than to hover for a moment and follow all the faster. He could have used it to get ahead, but it wasn’t the job of the suitor to close the distance between himself and Kalith, but her own.
When she turned on them, too fast to avoid if she had you in her sights, he back winged out of the range of her claws. Daidoroth watched as she glared at the other Bronze that chased her and tore towards him with a scream. It was astonishing that Beekth was not torn from the sky. DaidorothO’sho’s logic told them that the unhappy struggle and abandoning of the mauling by the queen was the work of Hers.
Daidoroth braced himself as he saw Kalith’s direction change, and welcomed her sharp claws with desire and satisfaction. Even her cutting him and knocking him from the sky roused his passion. Yours; he agreed lustily as she entangled her claws in his. Wrapping his wings around her possessively and winding his tail around hers so that they were hopelessly entangled, he echoed her sentiments. Mine.
Back in their Weyr, O’sho too braced himself for the collision his other half was to suffer in the sky. When Daidoroth began to fall, he relaxed, but his eyes and focus were more intense than ever before. He stepped forward and opened his arms and Fajra turned and lunged blindly towards him. As they too collided he closed her in tightly against him. ”Mine,” he whispered, playing off of their lifemates. But it was no joke; for as long as she would have him, he was hers alone.
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266
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Post by Lan on Mar 2, 2012 0:53:22 GMT -5
Fahra's attempts at placating him meant nothing. F'ton was not a scrawny dolphineer apprentice who failed at talking to girls, no... in this moment he was the strong and confident Poseith. He followed after the stunning Kalith on wide wings, following her up and up into the expansive sky until it seemed she could bear it no longer. Her wings shining, she dived out of the sky with a majesty that Poseith could never hope to attain. She was glorious and marvelous. All he could do was follow and hope that by some luck of Faranth she would choose him! In truth, he was inexperienced and had none of the luck nor the wisdom in Pern to guide him.
He backed off as the Copper Queen lunged to take out one of the bronzes that flew with him. A pang of something unfamiliar sprang in his draconic emotions: one of fear. Kalith was powerful and capable of killing any one of them. That fact had not settled in until just now, as she saw him with fangs bared to kill the bronze that was not one of their own. Poseith made no move to interfere. He made no move to close the distance between them to sweep her up at the last minute. No, he kept himself far away. He may have been lust-ridden, but he was not a stupid creature. Diving in after Kalith would be suicide.
Of course, she was not for him anyway. Redirecting her movements as graceful as ever, she struck her chosen suitor and plummeted from the sky, leaving Poseith and the other males far behind to merely watch. The iron shook himself. Daidoroth was Kalith's, as he would probably never be. The lust still filled him, although it began to die down as disappointment took its place. He turned on tail and headed home. What the others did hardly concerned him, but he didn't want to be there anymore. He had a weyr to get to.
F'ton came to in his weyr where Fahra was there. Tiroshel was gone now, although he had not seen where, nor did he care in this particular moment. He allowed her to drag him to his bed, not really in a position to fight the matter. He wanted her. So badly he wanted her that it spread like a fire in his chest.
"You better be sharding glad I'm your best friend."
"Aren't I just?" He replied, breathless. He had hoped Poseith lost too. While F'ton could be a sensible fellow when the situation demanded it, he was more chivalrous and helpful than leadership material. None of that mattered now, though. Poseith had lost. F'ton was Fahra's. She kissed him and he immediately responded with a passionate kiss back. She called him useless, but he knew she didn't believe it. They were friends, but he knew it was more than that. Poseith's confidence infected him and he took hold of her, arms stronger than they appeared pulling her body toward his. His fingers caught her blouse and made to pull it up over her head. Friends or otherwise, in this moment definitions hardly mattered. |
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