Sometimes you gotta break {Waroth's Flight}

[Lan]

post-gather

i hurt myself today to see if i still feel
i focus on the pain, the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away but i remember everything

With summer came warmth and sunshine again to take the chill out of rainy and dreary weather. It was bright, full of joy and excitement and, for one redrider, full of memories. There was a gather this season. Had it been so long since the first one? Two turns? She couldn't tell. But, while part of her had been glad to attend, at the same time she had been hoping for any excuse not to. So, with the dwindling excitement that bustled around the Weyr, Nimara rider of red Waroth did her duties behind the scenes as quickly and quietly and efficiently as possible. She didn't want to talk to anyone. Particularly not today. Her humour, usually passive and light, had been found irritable and sullen. She really didn't know why. Perhaps it was because of her decision not to stay at the gather for very long? But she had mainly done that out of duty. Waroth had been snippy lately. Keeping the red dragoness out for long periods of time when she was in such a mood was simply irresponsible. Yet, as much as it was for the good of others, it hurt her not to stay the full time at the gather. Her memories flitted back to O'sho and to the awkward intrusion of one of their last conversations by Fajra. The Weyrwoman had seemed... annoyed, to say the least, at their talking. And Nim couldn't blame her. So she had kept her head down today. She had played it safe. Particularly now more than ever.

Nim, done with her usual chores and duties, had made it safely back to her personal weyr where she figured she would settle in for the late part of the day. Waroth was still, oddly enough, on her ledge resting somewhat peacefully, the only tell-tale signs of her ongoing anxiety the occasional twitch of her long, forked tail. For this, at least, the redhead was grateful. Quiet at last, she slumped down against the stone wall of her weyr and watched the snoozing beast. Her crimson hide was different today, a deeper and more saturated ruby color, and her breaths were drawn in slowly and calmly, hardly causing in noticeable movement beneath her bulky and strong muscle that lined every bit of her torso and powerful legs. She seemed... calm. That really should have been enough to give it away. But the redrider was too exhausted and exasperated by her own relations to that day that she hardly noticed the crimson queen's demeanor was wholly unreasonable for any normal occasion.

It wasn't until the sun was beginning its descent in the sky and Waroth's now luminescent color blending in with the red tints peeking their way across the premature sunset that Nim felt something stir within her. Something was happening. She stood, watching powerful muscles twitch in anticipation under the hide of her lifepartner. Giant ribcage began to move up and down more rapidly, drawing in breath frantically and purposefully. Oh no... oh no, no, no, no, no... this couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when everything was fragile enough as it was. Oh, Faranth... she was going to rise.

Nim braced herself against the wall again, requiring the extra support to keep her standing as her runner's legs threatened even now to give out beneath her. Oh shells, what was she going to do? Memories of her first flight flooded her memory in vivid detail. She knew what was to be expected of her. But she didn't know if she could do it. She knew she didn't want to. Oh, if she could just disappear between in this very moment! But she couldn't! How could she? There was only one person's name in her head as she began to panic --O'sho. But she couldn't reach him. Waroth would be gone by the time she awoke. There was no way she could communicate with the outside world. It was just her and the beast. Her and the red demoness that still lie sleeping before her and would arouse any second, multi-faceted eyes blazing red and hungry for blood to stain her already scarlet hide. She could already feel herself beginning to slip.

Steady now, steady now... Nim, you've got to keep control.

'Help...' Was her pitiful cry, falling on absent ears. Then Waroth's great eye opened.

In a flash the red was up on her feet, muscles tensing and flexing in the blood-dyed sun. Her eyes searched the bowl frantically, her hunger pains strong in her hormonal state. She crouched low, looking as much ready to kill as she was ready to mate. Angry, growling, a low rumble boiled up from the pits of her empty and aching stomach and turned into a loud shriek that pierced every crevice of Dalibor Weyr. HER time had come. And it was time that all within earshot came to acknowledge HER power, HER strength, HER deadly beauty. Talons scraped against rock as she finished her call, letting all know that she had awoken and that it was time to sit up and pay attention. Then she slipped off the ledge, gliding with single-mindedness toward the herdbeast that was to be her meal.

She pounced, voraciously pounding the helpless herdbeast into the ground with a bark of empty victory. Her rough tongue licked at dangerous teeth as she poised to take her first bite into her squealing victim and one free claw raked at its flesh as if to torture it before its time had come.

'Blood it.' Nim, sturdy in her duty to control the raging beast that was Waroth, now spoke strong but steady in their telepathic connection. The red demon crowed and screeched at this command but halted her initial attack. 'Blood it now, Waroth.' The redrider watched from her ledge, eyes squinting and mind reeling despite her apparent control. She didn't need to scream. She didn't need to yell. Waroth would obey. That much she was certain of. One wasn't the rider of a red dragon for eight turns without being able to keep control. So she didn't scream it into the red's head, for it would only cause more rebellion. She remained stern, calm, despite the fact that memories of the past kept boiling up within her mind.

Waroth blooded the first herdbeast, eyes burning with anger at only being allowed that satisfaction. When she was finished she shrieked again, in angst ripping the beast in two and breaking its spine with her claws and throwing both halves in opposite directions. Then she grounded her next victim, once again blooding only although it too she ripped to shreds with her claws. It served them right, these ugly creatures that she could pin with a single foot... they didn't deserve to be whole or sanctified when in HER presence! She blooded three in total before she seemed satisfied, although she ripped a fourth to shreds as if only to be spiteful.

Then after a moment of silence, she glared up at the sky and snarled fiercely. She stretched her neck out, muscles rippling beneath tough crimson hide, and she bellowed out her challenge to all the males who would dare to chase HER. And they had better dare. Oh, they had better!

'LET THEM COME!!'

She launched herself with more power than grace from the ground and beat her wings strongly and brutally against the wind to take off at tremendous speed, already leaving the Weyr and the realms of the two-leggeds far behind. This was HER sky now. It was HER time now. And if a possible suitor was not mangled or dying by the end of the night, she would consider it a disappointment. Waroth, now all ire and might, was looking for blood to go along with her pleasure.

Nimara felt herself slipping into Waroth's consciousness as she took off to the sky, but she fought hard against it. Warnings of tears stung her eyes as she knew the inevitable was coming. She didn't want this to happen. But she was powerless. What could she do? Waroth's anger permeated through her own sorrow and fear, mixing emotions that never ought to be mixed. O'sho was the last thing on her mind as she began to blend fully with the red beast that now was in control. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye before she blinked it furiously out of mind, eyes glaring straight ahead and unable to see anything else but red and hate.

'Let them come...' She mirrored, voice now fully transformed from sweet and gentle to bitter and cruel.

what have i become? my sweetest friend
everyone i know goes away in the end
and you could have it all, my empire of dirt
i will let you down. i will make you hurt.

[/blockquote]

[Reky]

It had been stressful. He'd signed up knowing that it would be, but when he was wading knee-deep into it, he definitely felt its effects. The Gather had been approaching, and as head of the aerial display crew, R'len had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. The aerial display was to be grand! spectacular! awe-inspiring! He knew he still had a fair-enough amount of time left to figure it all out, but R'len liked efficiency. Doing everything last minute would not fly. Especially not with R'len's perfectionism worked into the equation.

In the end, though, things worked out as they had been carefully planned. The aerial display had been a sight to see, indeed, and so had the Gather in its entirety. R'len couldn't say when he'd had that much fun last. Needless to say, the happiness gained from it had lasted quite a while, but it was finally petering out. The decrease in stress, however, was still felt, and for that he was grateful.

Kaezeth was lazing on his dragon couch, tail flicking idly. R'len was spread out on his furs. The sun was beginning to set, and light pooled in through the weyr's opening. Today had been a day off, void of excessive exercise, but still R'len was tired. After all, a 'day off' meant little to him. He liked to keep busy.

How you doing over there, Kaez? R'len asked, yawning.

It was a short while that R'len waited for Kaezeth's answer, which never did come. He felt it, too, though. He felt Kaezeth's sudden distraction. He felt the flightlust seeping into him.

She rises,

[/i] Kaezeth stated. R'len ran out to the weyrledge where Kaezeth leaned over now, both hearts pumping blood furiously. R'len was nervous as hell. You'd think, after having a mature dragon for fifteen Turns, flights would get old, but no. They were always nerve-racking to R'len. He couldn't, for the life of him, tell anyone why, but they did.

Kaezeth's muscular back arced. His wings flared. R'len leaped for the monster's neck, holding tight as they plummeted from the ledge. His breath caught in his lungs. In a blur, he was deposited on another weyrledge, where a fiery haired woman waited, part of her dragon and part of the flight. How Kaezeth knew where she was, R'len would never know. He'd never met her. Not a second passed before Kaezeth had launched himself into the air again, with an answering roar to shake the very foundations of Pern.

Waroth would know he was there.

"I... I... R'len," the ironrider stuttered, fighting for his balance, hands running through his short-cropped hair, as he melded into Kaezeth's consciousness. "Oh, Faranth!" He lost himself, then, and the lust washed over him and pushed the nervousness away.

His wingbeats were strong. Rightly so, for all the trained muscle he possessed. The behemoth iron's eyes were wild with lust, and were only for Waroth. The bloodred beauty flew in front of him, and he pushed forward. He let out another primal roar, letting it speak his words for him. He was there. He was for her. He would chase her to the ends of this world. Kaezeth may not have been the fastest in the air, but his stamina was enviable. He would go as far, as hard, as high as he needed to to reach her. His iron status manifested itself as his driving confidence. He was capable. More than capable.

He would Chase.[/size][/blockquote]

[jack]

A cry of violence split the air, rousing the slumbering creature from his reclining spot. His movements were slow and reserved, purposefully leading him from the depths of his weyr to the ledge. One patient eye stared across the bowl, observing the scene as it erupted, but unwilling to make a move. The herdbeast was dismembered easily, and the rich smell of blood touched the dragon's nose even from this distance, but he was still unaffected as he watched the crimson dragon writhe and shoot into the air. Her scream echoed in his mind...but Sjueth closed his eye and did not move.

T'el was not with him today. The blackette was with M'kiru, most likely just waking--the boy was infamous for sleeping most of the time. The man was strangely absent from his mind as well, but as Sjueth watched and listened for a few more moments, he felt as the man roused and turned his attention to Sjueth. No words came from dragon or rider as T'el turned to look out towards the entrance of M'kiru's weyr, his fingers unconsciously tangling in the blond's soft hair. He worked his jaw absently, unhappily, and his eyes narrowed. Sjueth's eye whirled behind its lid, and his wings twitched slightly, the silent battle of emotions and wills showing subtle visible signs.

The blackette shuddered suddenly, and almost meekly leaned backwards. Sjueth leaned forwards, like a dog tugging against his leash. T'el cringed, and he gave a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he submitted to the other's request. I need you.
I know. Sjueth's eyes snapped open, even the blind one whirling with an odd mixture of red and violet. Waroth wanted blood? Well she would get it. But no matter how many times her claws may try and seek out his flesh, they would miss. He would not allow her to wound him beyond flying, but she could certainly try.

With a triumphant roar, the Iron leapt from his ledge, spiraling down and then upwards like a silver missile, intent on joining the others in the sky. His wingbeats were strong, and while he would never outmaneuver a small dragon, he made up the difference between them surprisingly fast. He made no apology for his lateness, offered up no greeting or salute. He was there, flying for her, offering himself for a target--for a challenge. That was more than enough for a hello.

T'el was much less eager to get moving, but from the way the waves of Sjueth's lust and necessity was crashing over him, it was apparent that he would have to. He twitched slightly from his position partially curled around M'kiru, and his fingers dug into the man's flesh. He didn't want to bother the blond snoozing there, and while he knew M'kiru would be angry at him, knew that he had a responsibility to Sjueth to be where the Iron was. So with a sigh that turned into a shudder, the blackette rolled away from his sleeping beauty and out of the bed.

Pants shrugged on but boots and shirt abandoned, he stalked towards the door, pausing to look back at M'kiru. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled softly, before another wave of Sjueth's emotions hit him and he flinched, shoving his way out of the room with a grunt. He almost ran the way to the redrider's weyr, following nothing but a feeling that it was hers. It was strange, feeling such powerful needs from Sjueth...the iron was generally much less emotional than his rider. But something about Waroth's violent challenge aroused something in the Iron, and now T'el was forced to feel the results.

His eyes were narrowed as he intruded the weyr, almost sashaying his way closer to Nim. The ironrider was careful not to overcross his boundaries, but he eagerly pushed at them, looking her over hungrily before standing steady to the side. A smirk had settled onto his features now...he was not happy to be here--for the most part--but if Sjueth wanted this...well...T'el would let himself enjoy some of it.

[Lan]

i wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts i cannot repair
beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear
you are someone else. i am still right here.

Nim was unaware of the men that now invaded her personal weyr. No; she was gone. Her eyes closed in concentration as her entire being now was flooded with Waroth's presence, and Waroth was intimately connected with her. She saw all the red saw, felt all the red felt, and experienced with the fierce beast all the ire and power and passion that surged through her very ichor. Much like the battle that had happened not many season ago, Nim's identity was lost in the surging and much more powerful persona of the crimson queen.

Waroth pumped her wings with great purpose and power, putting as much distance between herself and the Bowl as possible. For much time she didn't bother to look back at who followed. She was free. Untethered and unfettered by the rider that she bore or the gravity that constrained most creatures to the ground, she was free to soar the skies and do her own bidding. Whatever she wanted was possible. It was as if the very forces of life or death were in her claws. She roared triumphantly, hearing a roar echo in return that was not her own. This pleased her. There was another, more distant roar that came again. This was pleasing too. The red demoness climbed higher and higher into the sky and farther and farther from the tiny crater in the ground that now symbolized Dalibor. If any were to catch her, they would have to fight for the right to have her. Now above the lower level of clouds, she shrieked her challenge again to all that still followed, her trumpeting piercing to the ear and the mind. And then, only then, gliding above the lower cloud level and confident in her position, did she look behind.

There was the loud male that joined her, an iron she had not met before. He was strong and muscular, brave and valiant, yet in her resentful eyes she still found him lacking. Iron though he was, he would have to prove his worth to her. She'd test him hard with her claws and her fangs before she would let him have his way with her. Not far behind him, and gaining, was another iron of lighter color. He had only one working eye. Waroth snarled, a deep and sonorous growl all anger and bloodlust working its way from the pit of her stomach. It was Sjueth. It was the traitor. That fiend! That monster! That ignorant fool! He, of the ones that should have died by her talons, dared to chase HER?! She crowed and roared in unholy fury. Traitor! Murderer! Wherry in disguise! He didn't even deserve to live! Well, she mused in her vengeance-wracked brain made all the more bloodthirsty in flightlust, maybe he'd die now. She'd rip what was left of his good eye right out of his face.

Nim suddenly felt herself back in her body in that instant, confused and only aware that she couldn't let Waroth do as she planned. For a second she felt unconnected, as if her mind had gone between, but then she felt the crimson queen's wrath flood her again. Stay with her... stay with her... Nimara felt their minds merge again. Her dragon's lust consumed her.

Waroth flew higher now, through another layer of cloud that dotted her wings with droplets of unfallen rain. The condensation made her hide sparkle in what was left of the fading sun, not that at the moment her pursuers could see. She was hidden away by the shield of the dense cloud for an instant, and then she turned and dove, talons stretched wide as she came screaming out of the sky toward the one that had been found so disgusting in her eyes. Sjueth. He had challenged her and she was prime for fighting. When she caught sight of him she let out a sick, bloodthirsty squeal only to be compared to maniacal laughter. Her sights set themselves on his neck and face and she was currently diving with uncontrolled speed at just that target. NO! A signal came into her mind and she pulled sharply out of the dive, banking to move out of the way just in time. But she was angry at being restrained. This was HER day! She crowed again, reaching out talons in an attempt to snatch at his back and tail in pure and unfiltered spite as she moved past him.

Then she was gone again, moving in a direction away from both of her suitors. Her wings struggled on as powerfully as she could force them and her muscles felt just as strong, if not stronger, after her attack. She was powerful. She was fierce. She was not to be contained. But her stamina was fading. While still strong, she could feel her endurance sapping out of her body with every wingbeat. Waroth voiced her frustration, her roar not as strong as before, but still just as ireful and passionate. Yet the red demon continued on. She would not give up without a fight.

'Leave or die.' The red called out the challenge to Sjueth, not actually expecting him to leave or wanting him to leave. He had proved entertaining and there was still one more dangerous dance that had yet to be decided. She still wanted all her suitors on the table, no matter how much she resented them. Hatred was her only emotion toward either of them, but soon she would have to choose... and she hated that too.

[jack]

The demoness had caught sight of him. Sjueth's eye gleamed as he recognized that look in her eyes and her body language--a look he'd grown all too familiar of as the turns had flown by. His chest swelled at the challenge of another fight, and his nostrils flared as he pumped his wings and surpassed the other Iron, not giving the dragon half a chance to realize what was happening before he willingly slid into the Red's "trap".

Waroth was diving now, plummeting from the clouds like a bloodied comet, but Sjueth neither backed down nor flinched, his lone eye twirling that crimson violet as he stilled in the sky, letting her take her sweet time and take perfect aim. But before she came close enough for him to warrant an attempt at moving, she was wrenched back by her rider, and her claws were redirected. Sjueth--far from disturbed by her cackling roar--let out a challenging bark of his own, and let himself drop just enough to avoid being crippled as her talons raked through the flesh between his wings and nearly to the tip of his tail. Immediately, he spiraled a bit out of the way, giving her distance while showing keenly that he was far from out of the game. Ichor dripped from his hide in streams, but he seemed to barely notice as the green liquid stained his silver scales, his attention already keenly on her.

I will not leave. He announced, voice booming stubbornly as he gave a strong pump of his wings, taking up a nice chunk of the distance between them, only to bare his teeth and flex his claws towards her, his eye more red than violet now, But I will not die.

--

T'el's eyes glittered with a strange predatory light as he slid a bit further into the weyr, shooting a murderous glare at the other Ironrider--a man whose name he had no intention of discovering. His full attention was on the Redrider; not even a flicker of it on her dragonness. Sjueth was given full control, and while the rider's eyes flickered to and from the sky, the blackette was more than happy to allow Sjueth his way. The iron would never let himself get crippled--never let another handicap touch his skin.

The man grinned, a toothy, violent expression, and slid even closer to Nim, erasing the "polite distance" with one fearless step. His manic self in full display, he cocked an attractively mad little smirk--showing off the same amount of teeth as a hungry shark would--but after a moment, swiped the expression clean, letting himself seethe in cat-like predation at her side. He didn't try to touch her, didn't invade her bubble any further, but he wanted her to be very aware, regardless of who the dragoness chose in the end, that he existed.

--

Sjueth rose up slightly as T'el moved, spreading his wings in a rearing movement that seemed unduly dangerous this high above the ground. But with all teeth and all claws visible, and with streams of burning ichor trailing in six massive lines against his flesh, it was an intimidatingly violent display he was more than happy to risk injury for. Half a second and he was gliding again, rising up above her with a barking snarl. You couldn't kill me if you wanted to!

[Reky]

R'len had no consciousness of his own. The ironrider was completely lost, and all that existed was the iron dragon alone. As such, the rider stood motionless and tense in the redrider's weyr, eyes blanked turned skyward. Kaezeth followed faithfully as Waroth's flight went on. His muscles did not begin to tire for quite some time, and when they finally did, the effects were gradual and slow. His entire body was filled with a sense of power. He was strong. He was healthy. He may be an older dragon, but he was an iron. He was a king! In no way was he weak.

The blood queen's cry made him snarl in reply. It was not directed at himself. Instead, it was sent to her other suitor - the pale-hued iron. Kaezeth and R'len had not been present for the Renegade's attack, but of course they'd heard of it, and they knew which of the riders being housed in Dalibor Weyr were the traitors. In his lust-impaired mind, however, it did not occur to him that this was the renegade T'el's iron. All that came to R'len-Kaezeth was that that iron was being attacked, and not him - not presently, at least. This red was volatile, though. Things could change.

Kaezeth kept near the red, but above the skirmish, his powerful wings keeping him aloft. He gave a thunderous roar, warning Sjueth to bow down to the red's violence and back out. He wanted this demon all for himself. He could take it. He would take her down with him, like his body screamed at him to do. Somewhere, hiding in the dual consciousness, R'len was scared for his and his dragon's wellbeing, but that worry was soon silenced with Kaezeth's intense confidence. An updraft caught his wings, but he quickly adjusted. His fangs were bared, his muscles were ready, and his claws were outstretched, in the event that the danger turned to him.

Whatever happened, though, he would not back out of this. Never. An even stronger, louder scream came forth from his maw, letting it be known. Kaezeth was here.

[/blockquote]

[Lan]

Waroth could hear her opponent getting closer, catching up and now towering over her with long, strong wingbeats. If only she had been allowed to make her mark, then maybe he wouldn't be so smug! She snarled at him, twisting her head around to glare at his large form that dwarfed her by almost a good ten feet. She didn't care. It wasn't size that mattered, it was the strength of the muscles. And she was plenty strong. Strong enough to ream flesh from bone. Strong enough to put nice little grooves all along his back that now dripped sickly green ichor. This made her swell with pride inside. For all her time at Dalibor Weyr, she would know that it was SHE who had made those nice little marks on the iron's body. Won't die, said he? Oh just wait and see... there were worse things than dying. Smart enough to add insult to injury, Waroth's ire-driven mind already was creaking to the tune of lovely methods of getting back at this unworthy dragon she saw before her.

'You couldn't kill me if you wanted to!'

Waroth let out a cry of indignation at this statement. Now she was pissed. For a moment the other iron faded away as she banked toward Sjueth, wings pumping furiously as she seemed to be planning another go at immobilizing him. Her eyes were swirling quickly in her lust, a blood red hue to match her ruby-colored hide. But her intention must have been mistaken. She leveled out, not too far ahead of him, and seemed to just glide a moment in the air. Her tailed flicked about temptingly in front of him and she grunted softly, almost seeming to accept him. Perhaps she had decided? The moment lingered just long enough to wonder...

And then at the last second she spun out of the way, snarling and growling vengefully as she moved farther away from him. A loud roar had caught her interest and she moved toward its source, another lust other than for blood and war permeating her consciousness. It was iron Kaezeth she now turned to, fangs bared and claws outstretched as she all but attempted to tackle him out of the sky, striving to cling to him with a mixture of pleasure and passion that made her attempts at injuring Sjueth seem like child's play. A swirling eye meeting his, she trumpeted loud and clear her decision to the whole of Pern.

'You're MINE.' She struck her claim on him, no longer striving to get away but allowing him to carry her as she glanced with one last disdained look on the iron she had wounded and rejected. Then her attentions were wholly on her suitor, her claws not clasping his own but instead flexing to cling straight to his flesh. Sjueth might have been right. She may not have been able to kill him. But she could reject him. She could break his spirit and turn him down like the dirt and grub he was. And she could have a sharding good time of it, with this other iron now in her embrace.

Kaezeth's calls had pleased her, but it was sheer spite that had won her to him.

Meanwhile, Nimara was overcome with the wave of inhuman emotion and desire that overflowed from Waroth. Eyes open, she sought that man of the red's chosen suitor, on the way stretching out to push the rejected rider out of the way with a strength infused by adrenaline and dragon-fueled fury. She suddenly didn't like him so close to her, and certainly he wasn't welcomed in her weyr anymore. She had practically snarled at T'el, now a scarlet beast herself, before she gave herself over to R'len, embracing him as she only could with flightlust overflowing inside of her.

'I'm yours...' She trembled, for a moment part of her normal self seeping up to the surface. Her heart beat frantically, her hazel eyes for a second cold in her unconfessed fear. But then Waroth took over again, her old self faded, and her lips hungrily sought after his.

and you could have it all, my empire of dirt
i will let you down. i will make you hurt.
if i could start again a million miles away
i would keep myself... i would find a way...

[Reky]

Instinctively, his claws pierced Waroth's blood red flesh as she came at him, and clung to him, and held tight and declared him her winner. She trumpeted her announcement, and Kaezeth roared his victory loud and clear. To his demoness, he gave a confident and lust reply. I am.

[/color]

He gave himself entirely to her, tail snaking around hers. Together, the iron and the red fell, claws keeping each other close. He ignored the pain. The pain was nothing. It was only a wound for each of Waroth's talons, leaking ichor. He could deal with it. All he wanted was this volatile beauty right now. The world could come crashing down, and all he would want right now was Waroth, and Waroth he got. He was the winner. He didn't care how he had won - whether he'd proven himself, or it was simply because Sjueth had disproven himself didn't matter. All that mattered was Waroth.

Bleeding, they fell.

In Nimara's weyr, R'len snapped back to himself. At least, he was partly himself. His thoughts were his own now and Kaezeth was a separate being, but the lust his great iron dragon felt hit him in waves. Hormones drove him to hold Nimara in his strong arms. He didn't want her. He needed her. The only way to end this, he knew, was to satiate his dragon-triggered desires. He felt terrible, though. He always felt terrible. When the rider of the other dragon seemed fine with it, the awful feelings were lessened. R'len was an observant man, though. He caught Nimara's momentary look of fear. It clenched at the ironrider's heart.

He had to have her, though. She was beautiful. She was the rider of Kaezeth's violent prize.

As she was taken over by her dragon again, R'len gave himself completely to her, to be kissed and loved and controlled. It would all be over in the morning, anyways...[/size][/blockquote]

[jack]

T'el let loose a laugh, a wild, manic sound, as he was pushed, his teeth gleaming like a starved cat's in his maw." Lust was running rampant in his body, but it was nothing compared to the intense satisfaction that welled in his throat. He shoved his hands into his pockets as Sjueth touched at his mind, and he turned away from the lovers, walking to Waroth's ledge. The iron--bold and fearless--perched their for only an instant, allowing T'el to scramble onto his broad shoulders.

Ichor stained his pants, but T'el didn't seem to mind as he clucked to the silver hided dragon, Sjueth lifting up into the sky with a powerful pump of his wings. The Iron wasn't very humble for something that had just been rejected, nor did he seem to down. He was injured and dripping green, but that was okay. A hand rubbed at his neck and he tilted, glancing at the rider who gave a soft smile. "Sounds dumb...but it feels good ta lose."
Sjueth was silent, but he didn't disagree as he glided not to his own weyr, but to Thauth's.