Forgive Us {Alizadehth's Clutching}

[Admin]

Than when you turned away, when you slammed the door,
When you stole the car and drove towards Mexico,
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm,
I was young enough, I still believed in war.

There was a strange orange on the Dalibor sands.

It was a hot summer afternoon at Dalibor, and there was a strange orange.

In her wake, more strange dragons came.

Kalith was not pleased. She roared her defiance at the sight of renegades in her skies, her coppery, veined wings unfurling from her back as she surged onto her hindquarters at her ledge. She would kill them! She would kill the traitors and the trespassers! She would taste their ichor and blood! With another roar, she crouched and launched herself into the sky, intent on the second draconic form that appeared from between. The first had been the orange. Alizadehth. The second was a scarred brown. Abeneth. He was such a daring fool to think to come anywhere near her!

"Dragons do not fight dragons!" The words ripped through the entire Weyr, a mental and physical shout from the Weyrwoman that was passed from dragon to dragon without question. It was sacred pact. Few would dare to break it on principle outside of a flight or hatching. No one would question the rider of the Sr. Queen when she said it and even her own dragon obeyed her, rising higher above the Weyr and circling with anger as she watched the renegades defiantly, but peaceably, appear in her home.

The copper could sense that her rider, standing out on her ledge with her dress of red whipping around her, was not pleased herself. She wheeled closer, back to her weyr, when Abeneth and his rider landed there. The brown hurriedly, not overly fond of defying the Weyrwoman and vicious Queen even when under orders from his rider, deposited D'ror there, by Fajra, who refused to back away from either of them, and fled to the hatching grounds in Alizadehth's path. Once the sounds of the brown's wingbeats and the buffets they caused faded, Fajra looked the renegade before her over with her blue eyes, and then spoke. "What is the meaning of this?" Her voice held no indignation. It was clipped and crisp. She held all emotion out of it, simply making it demanding and to the point.

"I believe you're aware, unlike most, if you made that brown of yours that tried keep his mouth shut, that Alizadehth has flown. She needs a place to clutch. You can't let her eggs die simply because we don't get along, can you?" The brownrider's voice mixed wheedling with being calmly self assured. Behind him, Kalith let out a hiss, a vocal statement that 'yes, they could'. She did not want some filthy rebel lesser Queen on her sands!

For a moment, Fajra considered his words, face never betraying anything except for a careful regard for him that her eyes constantly gave him. "I concede that you do have a point. I will organize guard shifts to protect the eggs. Any pair affiliated with you must remain in the hatching cavern whenever they are here;" she replied, ending it there and leaving no place for anyone to question her. Then she turned and walked away. The light of distantly kept fury never dimmed in her eyes. Her teeth gritted as she strode off. Kalith pressed in on her, indignant of her having agreed to allow the orange to clutch at her Weyr. We cannot leave those eggs to be set out in the wilds, no matter their parents. Inform Nikianeth and Shoth that they will have the dawn to midday shift, Waroth and Kerath that they will have the midday to dusk shift, Risk and Nadysk that they will have the dusk to midnight shift, and Husk and Whisk that they will have the midnight to dawn shift. The Queen let out one last hiss of distaste, hovered for several more minutes as D'ror took his sweet time going over towards the sands, and then settled in her weyr to sulk and give out orders, which she did well even with the stupid whers.

There was a strange orange clutching on the Dalibor sands.

Perched on a tier in the expansive cavern with the warm sands were eggs were lain, Abeneth watched with great pride as Alizadehth produced seven. His seven eggs. All of them were darkly mottled, and did not vary greatly in size, but the brown hardly noticed such qualities. He hardly noticed when his rider joined him after it had started, enraptured with watching Alizadehth and the eggs. Once he was entirely sure that there was seven and only seven, which took a little bit as nothing but a great deal of time would assure of him of this fact, he lay down for a longer wait - for them to hatch. His rider settled against one of his legs and pulled a broad brimmed hat over his face, intent on taking a nap. D'ror had well expected this all to happen. Even a wild dragon such as the ones he drew around him would find a Weyr to clutch at if they became gravid. It was a matter of sense grown instinct. He was just glad that it had all really worked on. Abeneth did not sleep, but kept his head turned and one eye open to watch the entrances to the cavern. The eggs already had two guardians that needed no help. Not that anyone kidded themselves that the red pair and purple pair that arrived to settle at the great openings of the sands were there to guard the eggs. They were there to guard their guardians.

There were seven fateful eggs born of vices on the Dalibor sands.

Well let the poets cry themselves to sleep,
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam,
But me, I'm a single cell on the serpent's tongue,
There's a muddy field where a garden was.

[kyrillion]

What's going on, Rip?
Kyril had been oiling her faithful blue by the lake when several unfamiliar dragons erupted from between. Instantly on edge, her previously serene expression turned hard and unforgiving, and she watched as an irate Kalith launched into the sky. She felt Ripariath tense at her side, ready to take wing and defend his queen from the intruders, but Fajra's ultimatum froze them as surely as it halted Kalith's attack.

She felt Ripariath relax beside her, though she could sense that he was reluctant to do so. Who are they? she demanded, still uncomfortable with these obviously unwelcome visitors invading her Weyr. She hated not being in the loop - what if she could somehow be useful, but was instead soaking up sunshine because she didn't know better? Brows furrowing in thinly-disguised distrust, she waited for Ripariath to come up with the answers they were both eager for.

At long last, the blue proclaimed: They are called Abeneth and Alizadehth. They are weyrless - the orange one has come to use our Sands. Ripariath, every bit as devoted as his rider, was equally wary of the situation, and neither pair of eyes left the unfamiliar dragons as they alternately approached the weyrwoman's ledge and the Hatching Sands. Even when Kyril resumed oiling Ripariath's cornflower-blue hide, polishing it to iridescence in the sunshine, they did not relax their guard. Strange things were afoot, and it seemed there was some sort of past here that neither Kyril nor Ripariath were aware of. Neither Kalith nor Fajra had been happy to see these renegades - and their reactions went far beyond any typical reluctance to allow outsiders in the Weyr.

After some time had gone by and Kyril had finished her task, she took a step back and sat in the grass, resting her arms on her elbows.
Do you trust them?
No. But it would be wrong to turn them away.
True.
It was another moment before Ripariath added his own ultimatum, surprising his rider with his vehemence and uncharacteristic hostility, especially on the tail of his last, well-reasoned comment:
But if any one of them acts against a dragon or rider of our Weyr, dragons will fight dragons!

[4horseshowgirl4]

It was the equivalent of three in the morning for the weary Greenpair, fast asleep in the darkest bowels of the Weyr. Ever since that Orange's well-publicized Flight, that had been witnessed by half a Hold, there was no doubt in anyone's mind of the group of Renegades that had settled on the Western Continent. Their presence was no more an intangible shadow on the lives of those at Dalibor, one that haunted them only at the darkest moments but could be brushed away with little thought. Now, they were a real threat, and Whinae and Whisk had taken more than their share of the worry. Things always seemed scarier when the sun set; and while Whinae wouldn't doubt Whisk's ability to take down any humans without a problem, the Green was discouragingly small against a dragon.

If the Renegades were to attack Dalibor, or try to infiltrate them at night, what use would a handful of whers be? There was no telling how many of the Renegades there actually were; but there was an Orange, a Brown, and an Iron in the group for sure, as those were the ones that had been seen in the Orange's Flight. Even Husk, even Risk, would hardly stand a chance against a big Brown dragon, let alone an Iron. It was worrisome, to say the least. Still, Whinae and Whisk patrolled the Weyr and the lands surrounding it after dark, as was their duty. So far, the Renegades seemed to be making themselves scarce. Perhaps it was this that caused them the most anxiety; Whisk and Whinae knew of a life on their own, and they knew fully well how unpredictable it could be. A group of dragons living outside a Weyr couldn't be expected to follow the rules!

After another tense but mercifully uneventful night, the Greenpair had taken refuge in the Weyr, while the dragons acted as the guards. Sleep came easily to them, with the knowledge that dozens of dragons were protecting their home from danger. It was hot and bright up in the Weyrbowl, but down here, it was cool, quiet, and peaceful. Even paranoid Whisk was cuddled by Whinae, perfectly calm for once.

Then, Fajra's voice shook the very Weyr to its roots. Whisk was instantly to her feet, followed by a slightly-disoriented Whinae. What is going on?!

[/b] she thought wildly, bolting with Whisk towards the Weyrbowl, not chasing her wher for once before the aggressive Green could make trouble, but keeping pace with her, as desperate to find what had caused their Weyrwoman such rage as Whisk was. Whisk paused before leaving the stony enclosure of the Weyr, squinting her eyes against the strong sunlight, but Whinae had no such inhibitions, and she rushed out, searching the sky for answers. Her worst fears were confirmed: a strange Brown dragon in the sky, scarred and certainly not of Dalibor. Fear gripped her suddenly, dropping like a cold stone into her stomach. Dragons did not fight dragons! Was Fajra trying to prevent an attack?

Her intense terror was slightly relieved when she saw it was Kalith, not one of the strangers, who retreated upon the Weyrwoman's words. An invasion, yes... but it was not an attack. They were here for some other reason. As fast as her mind was working this out, as fast as she was sending Whisk her thoughts and images. The wher was fighting a terrible battle with herself: her desire to protect the one home she'd had in a long time was warring with an emotion she despised in herself: she, too, was intimidated, even afraid, of the dragons. She growled quietly, scraping her strong, young claws into the stone ground. But Whinae did not have to restrain her; Whisk, though she was a wher, would not dare disobey the senior dragon Queen.

Whinae was not brave, nor was she as protective as her wher. She was still scared, though her wash of fright had been largely dissipated. She slowly walked back to Whisk, offering a comforting hand out to scratch the wher's eye ridges. The wher was having none of it, ducking her head away. Whinae nor Whisk said nothing when Kalith issued them their orders; they heard them, and Kalith would not want to be bothered by a simple affirmation from a little Green wher. {Whisk, darling, we need to go back to bed if we're to be any use at all late tonight,} Whinae struggled to say in her calmest, most patient voice. She simply stood there, pulling at the wher gently with her mind, waiting for her to respond.

And, almost with a sigh, Whisk did. She was furious with the intruders and frightened of them, and furious of herself for being frightened, but the sun was hurting her eyes, and Hers requested her to relent, so she did. They padded back to their quarters, lying down once again. Two minds raced as one with this turn of events, with the raging emotions, worries of what would happen, and an anxiety for it to be midnight.

Sleep would not come so easily to them now.
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[kia]

Nikianeth was resting peacefully in her weyr when she heard Kalith`s roar. She looked up, her eyes rimmed with orange from distress. Kalith was upset. Something was not right. She stood up without telling her Rider and walked to the ledge of her Weyr. Seeing the Brown, Abeneth, and the other Orange, Alizadehth, she rumbled unhappily with their sight. She knew that they were renegades. Every dragon had the image of these two, and a pesky Iron, in their minds to keep as a memory. She was just as unhappy as Kalith was to see these two dragons. She was about join Kalith in the air when Fajra told them that they were not to fight. Nikianeth settled uneasily on her ledge, watching the Copper as her Rider conversed with the Brown`s Rider. Then, Kalith returned to her Weyr and announced that she now had a job to do. Nikianeth snorted. She was going to be working with that runt of a dragon who was pudgy and not in shape, Shoth. She passed the message onto her Mine.

Nia looked up from her paperwork and sighed. “I had a feeling that this would happen,” she said quietly to herself, standing up and closing the book. She would have to cast off her timid mask and put on her real mask. She would need brains in this job, not innocence. She patted her Orange on the muzzle. “It will be okay. Just deal with Shoth for a time, okay?”

Nikianeth snorted. You ask only because you get along with his Mine. Are you harboring some human crush? Is it because he is a King Rider? Nikiaenth asked her Mine, wondering why the woman was always so kind to others, even Riders of rude dragons.

Nia flinched at Niki`s comment. Her? A crush? Nikianeth had not even Rose yet, so how could she be thinking these things? “No! That is not it! I just do not want to work with him on bad terms,” Nia explained.

Nikianeth rumbled lightly. If you say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ridan was stretched out on his bed, sleeping comfortably. He faintly noticed Risk`s movement next to him as he tried to return to his dream. His bed was very low, seeing as he liked to sleep during the day next to Risk. Risk rumbled a few times, preventing his dream from returning. In fact, he was already beginning to forget what his dream was about. He opened his eyes and looked over at the door. Little strip of light shone through, telling Ridan that it was still daylight out. He sighed and flipped on his other side, pulling the blanket over him.

Mine, we job, came Risk`s calm and beautiful voice. Ridan opened one eye and looked at her. Even in the light, he could see her eyes. They were green, but there was some hint of orange to them. Ridan furrowed his brows together in question. He sat up and looked at her face to face. “What is wrong? And what do you mean we have a job?” he asked, understanding her perfectly after so many years.

Risk breathed heavily. Apparently, whatever it was, it had waked her up and she was still very tired. Renegade Orange Brown, Clutch Sands, we guard later, she said, rumbling sleepily before laying her head down on his bed and closing her eyes. Ridan tried to reach her mentally, but all he saw were colors of pinks, greens, and blues. All happy colors. She was happy once again.

But her words confused and startled him. The renengades were here? His memory took him back to his meeting with one. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around Risk`s large neck. Cuddling into her, even though her hide was a little rough, he found a comfortable spot to go back to sleep. Risk would wake him later. And then, they would start their job.

[Kila]

Alizadehth had made the decision herself. If anyone had thought she would expose her precious to danger by laying them on some obscure part of the wild continent they had another thing coming to them. Varya had known her Orange's unspoken plan as the Queen had become egg-heavy, and had mounted her without question and flown into Dalibor when Alizadehth had announced that it was time. The cautious young woman was far from thrilled to be in the Weyr that she had for so long tried to mask their presence from.

Alizadehth laid her eggs. Seven. Perfect. Beautiful. Their shells were dark and handsomely mottled. The similarity among them was striking, for they were all richly-colored and did not vary significantly in size. This clutch knew that it was sinful and crafted independently of rule. They fit together- with pride in their infamy.

No one was prouder, though, than their mother. When Kalith dared to snarl at her and even make to come towards her, Alizadehth bore her teeth and snarled back venomously. Roar matched roar. Had she not been finishing her clutching she too would have surged forward at this provocation and set into the Dalibor Queen until she killed or was killed. There was no pact that she, as the wild Queen, was bound to. Abeneth! she summoned of her weyrmate, and he was there- filling the space between the two angry female titans. How lucky Kalith was indeed that she heeded her rider and their pact. Like the eggs, Abeneth was HERS, and if Kalith had hurt him, she would have died. An attack on her prince would have been considered a direct attack on her.

Alizadehth smoothed out her snarl and finished laying her last egg as Kalith beat a reluctant retreat. Looking at her work she crooned with satisfaction and wrapped herself around them, nestling them into the sand and making adjustments gently as need be. When Abeneth arrived to watch she did not stop him, and even rewarded him with a small croon of his own. Are they not gorgeous? she purred with pride. Our own. And no weyr-bound soldiers will come near them. To ensure the protection of her clutch, for she had no trust for Dalibor, she would have to allow others to be closer to her and her clutch than she liked and would have normally allowed. She would have to bear it. But for now, everything was ok, because they were safely in the Hatching Cavern, and Dalibor was out.

Varya refused herself to see things so narrowly black and white. She had taken up her position on the sands by Hers as she had begun to clutch, and would not be moving from it until after the eggs had hatched. A strange switch had occurred between rider and dragon once Alizadehth had begun to clutch. Each egg that was produced was seen as the most precious and coveted gold by the dragoness, and she treated each one tenderly and in a way that she only otherwise used for Hers during her worst moments. This doting was deep and compulsive, and if anyone threatened it Alizadehth was sure to snap at once to the complete opposite mood. Were she or her eggs threatened, the offenders blood would decorate her teeth and claws as it had during her flight. As a mother, the Orange was violent and irrational. It was Varya, then, who had become the stable one. To protect her bonded and their clutch, she had unconciously banished any potential threat of hysteria or bipolar sickness from her body. She was a rock, and she would rationalize and defend now when her dragon could not.

Varya too was tolerant of Abeneth when he came in, for she was rather fond of the Brown, and would be tolerant when and if the other renegade dragons came to stand by the clutch. She was still not please, however, to see D'ror. His foot may have healed, and they may have spent the night of Alizadeth's flight passionately together, but she had yet to come to terms with him. It was possible for her to forgive him, but she had never fully trusted him in the first place. He was not that kind of man. At least he was useful, though, for it was he who would be dealing with the Weyrwoman. Varya wanteed nothing to do with her, or any of them for that matter. Outside in the bowl she could see a flurry of curious activity and she viewed with scorn. Given, they were in Dalibor's territory, but that didn't mean they had to like it.