ANIMAL [Waroth's Second Flight]

Enyo.

Kaezeth had known what was about to happen even before it did - even if he didn't want to. Waroth's wrath was a tempestuous force that he did not wish to incur. He had done it before. He had won her once and betrayed her, and though he heard her call and felt her fire this time, he was hesitant to follow. Doubtless he would leave her again for Callistath like the primal, dutiful beast he was, for his Queen shone like gold and he was her King. He would not inflict that upon Waroth, but more than that, he would not inflict Waroth upon himself.

He had hoped to ignore her flight.

In his draconic concerns, however, he had forgotten His. R'len saw Enyo mottled green and perched upon lamp on his desk. The shadow cast upward threw the silhouette of her wings and long neck onto the wall, tall and flickering, and he nearly tipped his ink over at her entrance. Enyo. The Weyrleader hastily set down his things; grabbed his coat. Nimara. His woman. His love. The electricity in the air, then, was not simply from the swelling storm. The roar and the energy was Waroth's, too.

And as the man fled his quarters, steps swift and determined, he felt a pang of irritance. Why didn't you tell me sooner? he demanded of Kaezeth and faltered on the steps hidden inside the Weyr. His heart caught and he took it back. No, no, no. Sorry, Kaez. No, it's not your fault. What am I saying? Oh, Faranth. And he sucked in a deep breath and set himself to focused purely on moving his feet. Kaezeth forgave him; he felt it, and that was some small solace that lent him some sureness in his steps. Blue Chicken arrived out of between and tangled in the air above him, but R'len had not the time. He waved the lizard away.

How had his work and shut door kept out the portent herdbeasts' screams? A guilt had settled in his gut. Was that how absorbed he was in his work? That he should nearly miss the trying times of his woman? They were Weyrmates, for Faranth's sake, even if they did not share the same quarters due to the animosity of their second winged halves. He should have been two steps ahead. He should have been there already, in her weyr, proving his devotion before her consciousness was swallowed by the red's.

But as he swept into her room, he realized that their was no room for self-berating. The tension was already growing fast, and though it hurt him, he stopped in his tracks not far from Nimara. He wished to sweep her up and take her away; even if Kaezeth was holed up on his stone couch, the dragons' passion was still infectious. R'len felt protective. Possessive. Nimara was his. He loomed near her like a watchwher, guarding her, for when Waroth took her prisoner of choice, R'len would take his woman and he would treat her gently, with a clear mind and with love. Until then, however, he would keep his distance. Nimara was Waroth, now; their mind flew furiously elsewhere.

When she came to him, he would be there. But he wanted Nimara, not her dragon through a human's body, and so he would wait.

you really want it?
wanna make a scene?
show me what you MEAN

As Waroth flew, Nimara climbed. She maintained a hazy enough awareness of her surroundings to be able to make it back to her weyr, but afterward she remained stagnant and uninterested in the world around her. Her chest moved up and down with each labored breath as she felt the stretching and tensing of the muscles in Waroth's powerful frame. She grit her teeth, her lips pulled into a frown. Her hands were balled into tight fists and her eyes were clenched shut. R'len was there, but she was not aware of him. Nor was she aware that he was the only one that had come to her weyr, despite the four dragons who gave chase. Only what Waroth experienced mattered. From her petite frame erupted an inhuman growl. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. How dare they...

The scarlet queen crowed an eerie, gargled scream as she grew closer to the oncoming storm. She felt the swirling winds within her wings threaten to pull her down, but of pure spite she kept going. Her own pain and trial meant nothing to her now. Only the agony that would be her suitors' struggle would raise any reaction from her. With her mind full of violent thoughts she touched the consciousness of each of her would-be suitors. There was a blue, tiny but ambitious. There was a brown, equally ambitious. Perbiath's status as a renegade bastard would have made Waroth attack him right then if she could remember it. As it was, though, she was not yet for attacking anyone. She would prolong her fun for as long as possible. It was the quiet before the storm that made it all the more agonizing.

Two kings from a foreign Weyr were there as well. The bronze and the iron's presence gave Waroth a strong sense of pride. She knew not of their prior experiences chasing Kalith, but she would certainly give them something to remember her by when it was all said and done. Before she reached the bulk of the storm she looped around, aiming herself for Sholth's tiny frame. He didn't belong here! He was not worthy of chasing her! She was upon him quickly and without warning. Her talons reached to score his neck and back as she passed over him. She growled darkly, feeling some form of release in her first act of violence and ever hungry for more. Turning about again (for she was behind them now), she likewise made a pass alongside Beekth with claws aching for flesh. Then, without stopping to admire her handiwork, she continued into the storm--lest she be caught prematurely.

Howling winds buffeted her stocky frame and threatened to rip her wings from her back. She held steady, not simply ignoring the pain but taking pleasure in it. Surely her suitors must be feeling worse than she! Another taunting roar was released, although most of it was lost to the wind and the crashing of thunder. An updraft came from over the sea and pushed her up, up, and into the cloud layer. There the agitated particles tingled in her bones and she breathed heavily to draw in enough oxygen mixed with the moisture. She trumpeted again, as much to taunt her chasers as to clear her longs. A downdraft pushed her downward and back under the cloud layer, where rain poured down and made her already glowing hide glisten. She managed to stop herself just before the crest of the tumultuous waves and with powerful swipes of her wings began her climb again.

She took advantage of another up-draft to carry herself to the clouds again, only this time she fought and pulled with adrenalin-based strength to climb above the cloud layer. It took her what seemed like forever in her lust-ridden mind, but when she came into the thin and comparatively calm air she waited like a wherry stalking its prey. She meant to ambush them. The next suitor to come through the cloud layer, she decided, would deserve a good thrashing for his brashness. She now had the higher ground and she would use it to her best advantage. They would know that this Flight and the pain they would endure was far from over. Oh no... it had only just begun.

let's get it started
let me see what you've got
can you kick it up a notch?

Determination. It was what kept him going. Even as more dragons joined the Flight, Sholth paid them little heed. They were not as fast as him and therefore he still had a chance. Wings were becoming tired now as he struggled to maintain his speed and follow the beautiful red. Waroth. She was magnificent. These Kings thought themselves far too brilliant to truly appreciate the beauty before them. Not to mention the mind of a particular intelligent dragon. He would have tried a different tact had he been prepared but things were not always as simple as that.

He was closer now, flying close to the red. All this Flight he had been near her, edging towards his prize. There was only one problem. Waroth was much larger and had also turned around. Sholth tried to dart out of her way and probably would have succeeded had it not been for the size of the colossal red before him. As the shadow passed over him Sholth dared not cry out or rather that he could not. Pain ripped his shoulders and the blue tumbled from the skies, falling quickly.

Awston flickered in and out of consciousness where she lay, fingers digging into her back as she felt the pain Sholth did. He was quiet and stoic as opposed too arrogant. Perhaps he had finally met his match. Kalith had not been particularly upset with his choice to Chase and so she had never experienced this… Not like this.

He had to go somewhere. At this speed he would surely hit the ground. Between? No something stopped him going there. The pain was stopping his concentration but that was the safest place to go wasn’t it? Sholth took this as another challenge. Through the pain wracking his shoulders, wings that had been previously wrapped around his body snapped open. The pain ripped through his body but wings beat raggedly and the blue just managed to gain some height. Sholth brought his ichor stained head up, attempting to look at the Flight but it had already moved too far away. He would not give up though, not until he knew that Waroth had chosen. Thus, with head hung low and wings beating tiredly, Sholth flew on, talons skimming the ground.
Sholth...

don't think you got it
can't handle the pressure?
get OFF

Waroth was a feral feline of the sky, very large and very dangerous as she bid her time in wait. The storm could not hold them forever. Soon they would break free and she would take them in her domain again. Her barrel-like chest expanded and contracted with each hot breath as muscles tensed in a similar dance to keep her wings going to prop her up. Streams of rain water lined her magnificent, glowing red hide. Her claws were stained green with the ichor of two dragons. She licked her bared fangs, bloodlust coursing through her. More would come. More would follow. She would claim them all. They were hers the moment they laid eyes on her.

Mycroth came up very stealthy indeed; Waroth took no notice of him. She stayed, dead-set and driven to watch the clouds before her. With each passing second she grew more tense, more hungry. She ached to feel the blood and flesh beneath her talons again. Soon a figure emerged from the angry, bubbling clouds and she let out a manic scream.

Down she descended, folding her wings against her back to allow her bulk to fall at full force. Each foot between them was another unit of time used to accelerate her frame. A brown and a purple emerged from the clouds simultaneously, and in the fraction of a second she made her choice. She snapped open her wings, posing like a terrifying gargoyle as she slowed herself just enough to change course. Purple or Brown? It hardly mattered.

Red and brown collided.

But this was not to mate; no. Waroth positioned herself to grab hold of his shoulders from her place atop his back, her claws sinking into his hide as a result of her vice-grip. She then retracted her wings again and let themselves fall so that she dragged him upside-down with her. Into the clouds they sank, gaining speed and energy. Water lie beneath them and all around them, churned violently by the storm. Still, they fell. Soon they were out of the cloud layer, the dark sea visible beneath them. It was then she opened her wings again, angling herself to spin so that they were right-side-up again, and she used the resulting angular momentum to fling Perbiath toward what she hoped would be a watery grave. Her wings snapped fully open. A freak updraft was caught. She rode it back up into the clouds.

Yet the red grew tired of her antics. She grew tired of this struggle. She desired something other than blood and death, but it was a mere inkling to the thirst she naturally held for disaster. No! None of them were worthy! She would fight to survive until every last one of them were but ichor on her claws! Trying to renew her energy, she roared mightily and dangerously. Let them try to stop her!

The fates were not so kind.

On her way, blinking, through the storm she struck something solid. The sound of lightening and thunder further confused her, leaving her open to being snatched from the skies that were hers alone. She shrieked, not wanting to stop her game, but it was already too late. Strong claws ensnared her. She was too weak from the storm to pull away. The unearthly scream from her lips lasted longer and stronger than the thunder clap. Even as she gave in, falling, she snarled.

Her red tail curled around the bronze's, her already ichor-stained talons digging into his flesh as she pulled herself closer. Waroth's eyes full of scarlet fury glared into Beekth's as she wrapped her mind full of dark and terrible things around his. Even as they mated, she struck at him, sinking her teeth into the flesh around his neck. And there she stayed. Throughout their fall she gnawed on him like a canine with a day-old bone. He would remember he was hers. Everyone would see where she had marked him.

MINE.

Nimara knew not where her suitors where. She didn't even care. R'len was claimed with fierce clawing and inhuman growling. She wanted him. She needed him. That was all that mattered. The riders of other dragons hardly held any meaning to her. Even in her Waroth-like state she knew R'len was the only human that could ever be so important in her eyes. So she clung to him, ripping his shirt and kissing his lips with untender passion. Let the others take care of themselves in their own way. R'len was hers, just she was R'len's.

stop talking about it
gotta make this count
let's go