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Post by kia on Dec 14, 2009 23:03:24 GMT -5
Kalith`s Flight had been magnificent. Kalith`s Flight had ended several days ago. And to the large Orange that was close to Rising, Kalith`s Flight had been the beginning. Nikianeth sat on the ledge that led to her weyr. She was moody. She was proddy. And her temper was something to match the Sr. Queen of the Weyr. She knew she was a sub-Queen, but she believed herself to be a Queen in these moments. She would out do that wherry-brained Renegade Queen. Her Flight had been short and quick with no significance. Well, Nikianeth would make her Flight longer and she would have the greatest Flight that an Orange could have. She mentally chuckled to herself, content with the thoughts. Yes, she would have the best Flight ever.
Armania, or Nia as she preferred to be known around the Weyr unless it was for formal reason like meetings with the Weyrwoman, sat at her desk, busying herself with feeding little Nix. The little Blue was still quite young and needed a lot of attention. Nia had not had any time to read or write letters to her father in the Weyr she last lived in. The last letter she had sent to him had been about Nikianeth`s recent change in mood and brightness in hide. His letter, in responding, was that he was proud of her and told her to just be herself. Also, the words that B`nyur had given her managed to calm her nerves. She was no longer worried about Nikianeth being fit for Flight. The Dragonhealer had given the Orange his approval. He had also given her some advice about the end result of the Flight. Nia was still very nervous about that, but she rid that nervousness behind the doting of her dragon and Fire Lizards.
Nia sat back in her seat, looking at Nix as the Blue sat there, his eyes green and blue with happiness, chirping at her with pleasure. The little Blue walked over to her hand and began to caress her skin with his small head. Nia smiled at the Blue, glad she had attended the Hatching after all. Nix and Flare, along with Nikianeth, were her pride and joy. And, while she had earlier feared that Flare would feel jealousy for the other Blue, Flare had become a big brother to the little Blue. Both Blue could be seen on the window sill together, chirping to one another. Though, it was mostly Flare chirping to Nix, teaching the little Fire Lizard the ways of being a Fire Lizard to their Mine. Because both Fire Lizards were Blue, she could perch them both on her shoulders without feeling weighed down. It was also easy to tell them apart, Flare being a dark color than Nix. But when they were flying above her head in circles, it could sometimes be confusing.
Feeling drawn to look at the small window in her room, she turned her head to watch the clouds passing by in her view. It was a lovely day, and Nikianeth had been quiet most of the day. But, every now and then, Nia would reach out to touch the Orange`s mind with her own just to make sure the Orange was okay. The Orange would rumble every time, annoyed that her Mine was reaching out to her so often, but held her tongue and let the woman enter her mind. Nia read and saw thoughts of Nikianeth beating Alizadehth in Flights and make believe war. The Orange was truly revengeful of the Renegade Queen in this state. And despite her proddiness and her near deviance to Kalith, Nikianeth still seemed to hold reverence to the Copper Queen. This relieved Nia. At least the Orange was never going to plan to attack the Weyr`s Queen. She believed Nikianeth had come to respect the Queen and looked to her for reassurance half the time. Nia closed her eyes, letting her mind relax and become tranquil. But she felt hungry and the need to fly soon came to her mind…
Nia`s eyes shot opened as she looked over at her Orange. Were these her own thoughts? Were these her own desires? The purple in Nikianeth`s eyes told her that they were not; that these thoughts and feelings belonged to the bond that connected the Rider and dragon. Nia felt her body begin to shake in terror and nervousness. Nikianeth sat there, so still so silently. She reached her mind out to the dragon, but the dragon growled louder than normal this time at her trying to reach out. Nia felt taken aback at this. She had to get Nikianeth under control, and soon. The Orange was Rising!
With a sudden burst of speed that Nia had not known her dragon to be capable of, the Orange launched herself into the sky, the sun gleaming off her brilliant hide. She may not have been a metallic Queen, but her hide was just as beautiful, she thought. She bugled loudly, letting her presence be known among the Weyr, challenging the “capable” males to come and chase her. She twisted in the air, showing off, doing little antics to gain the male`s attentions. She would prove herself a worthy female, someone worth being chased by the males of this Weyr. Come, she thought, let`s see who is worthy of being my mate. She bugled again, but this time she dove down toward the ground, down toward the field where the human`s beasts were kept.
Nia did not have much time to react after the Orange had flown into the sky. She stood up, feeling the pulls and urges of her dragon`s wants and desires. Nix chirped at her, confused, scared, not understanding what was going on with his Mine. Nia stared at the Blue, trying to gain some sort of consciousness to help her poor, precious Fire Lizard. Flare`s deeper chirp managed to do the trick as the woman blinked, seeing the larger Blue hovering in her face. “Flare, take Nix away from here. Now! To the fields!” she said quickly, hurriedly, as her feet began to move toward the door of her weyr. She was being caught up in the emotions, the feels, the needs. Flare chirped in obedience. He landed on the desk and nudged the smaller Blue into the air, giving him the image. Both Fire Lizards soon disappeared by between, the sounds of their chirping now far from human ears.
Nikianeth took her first victim in her mouth, her large and razor sharp teeth cutting through the flesh and bones. The warm blood poured out of the poor creature. It tasted so good. Her tongue moved forward to taste the meat. So warm and fresh, still pumping from being alive just seconds ago. Nikianeth`s teeth clamped on the dead beast more, wanting to swallow the meat that was in her mouth. She tilted her head slightly, ready to slice the beast into pieces to eat. Stop! Don`t you dare! came Nia`s voice, trying to gain command over her dragon. Nikianeth growled again, not wanting to listen. Nikianeth, blood it! NOW! Nia mentally shouted, using Nikianeth`s full name instead of her nickname in this time of emergency.
Nikianeth, trying to fight her Rider, finally obeyed Nia and blooded the creature. She let the blood flow to the back of her throat, swallowing it and letting the warmth fill the inside of her throat. Once she finished her first beast, she threw the creature to the side, hissing at it from annoyance and anger that she could not eat the precious meat that the creature carried. She flew in the air again, landing on another unsuspecting beast. The creature cried out, which only fueled Nikianeth`s anger. She clamped her teeth down, one of them breaking the creature`s neck. The fight between Rider and dragon went on again, Nia winning the fight over and over again.
Nia looked around her room, gaining momentary ability to see where she was going and conscious thinking. She was clinging to the wall, gripping onto something invisible, her heart pounding, skin shivering and pressing up against the cold, stone wall. She was near the door, and she was away from the ledge. But being near the door made her even more nervous. In a few moments, after Nikianeth finished blooding her last creature, the males would begin to chase and their Riders would begin to line up outside her door. Her head hurt and was pounding as Nikianeth`s Flight brought her back to her dragon`s mind.
Now that she was done blooding the creatures, she bugled again, letting the males know that she was ready for Flight. With a pump of her wings, she was in the air, soaring over the Weyr, above the Weyr that was now her home. Let them come. Let those males who think they are worthy of me chase me, she and Nia thought together. The Rider and dragon were becoming one. Nia, through Nikianeth`s eyes, could see the Weyr, the sky, and the plains that laid out before her. Alizadehth will be jealous of me. I will prove that I am the superior Orange in Western Continent!
The Flight had begun. Nikianeth/Nia pumped her wings and was off with the speed that she could gain in her wings. She bugled and danced in the sky, challenging and tempting the males of the Weyr to come after her. She was worthy! She was mighty! She was Nikianeth, the Orange Queen of Western Continent. Forget Alizadehth. She only wished that she was as great as Nikianeth. The Orange mused this over in her mind and nearly gave a dragonic laugh. Yes, this was her day to shine. All eyes were on her. And today was her day to be Queen!
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Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on Dec 15, 2009 0:58:59 GMT -5
I have often dreamed Of a far off place Where a hero's welcome Would be waiting for me
Unlike many of the suitors whose dragons would undoubtedly be going after Nikianeth, L'ven was perfectly oblivious to the Orange's Flight. Yes, some part of him was aware that the sub-Queen was due to Rise, but it didn't affect him. He wasn't a Candidate, so he wouldn't be affected if she clutched. And, well, obviously his dragon was still far too young to Chase, much as he felt like he could win every dragon who had ever Flown! L'ven felt a surge of affection for the large Bronze that was sprawled out on his dragon couch. He could deal with a little ego, a little flirtatiousness. Much as those two traits of Valleth's could get on his nerves at time, they were as undeniably a part of Valleth as ambition was part of L'ven. Besides, what kind of proper King could Valleth be if he didn't have a good dose of pride and a healthy helping of charm? The answer was simple: he wouldn't be. He'd be a stupid lug like Detritath and his 'Rider. L'ven was terribly proud of his dragon, his massive form with his lean muscling, still a teenaged ropey instead of the powerful, bulky structures they would become. He was proud of the way the Bronze's hide shone with health and his natural metallic glint. He was proud of what they had accomplished together so far: Wingsecond of their wing!
Where the crowds will cheer When they see my face And a voice keeps saying This is where I'm meant to be
It was a lazy afternoon day, and Valleth had been almost immobile since lunch. His own sleepy emotions were bleeding into L'ven, and despite the hardworking Bronzeweyrling's best attempts to be productive, he, too, was finding it rather unsavory to do anything but lay on his back on his bed, throwing a crumpled up ball of paper into the air and catching it, over and over and over again. They sat in perfect silence like this for a while, but it didn't take long for L'ven's almost obsessive need to always be doing something to take over. He sat up on the cot, swinging his legs over the side. "Valleth!" he said forcefully. The Bronze didn't stir; all he did to acknowledge that he'd heard L'ven was half open one bleary eye. "Come on, you lazy lug, let's go out for a practice fly or something. Our exams are soon!" L'ven said, slipping off of the cot and laying a hand on the Bronze's shoulder. Our exams are not for months, [/color] Valleth drawled. A Flight does sound lovely, though...[/color] he said, finally stirring and slowly lumbering to his feet. L'ven was already grabbing the straps, having completely missed the suggestive tone in the Bronze's voice that could only mean trouble. [/right] I'll be there someday I can go the distance I will find my way If I can be strong I know ev'ry mile Will be worth my while When I go the distance I'll be right where I belongA bugle sounded from across the Weyr. L'ven ignored it; with so many dragons in one place, they were a common sound: greetings, challenges, even notices of something important happening. However, Valleth did not. His head shot up instantly, and almost immediately he transformed from a languid beast to the picture of alertness. L'ven, turned to grab his straps from where they were hung up on the wall, didn't see the metamorphosis, but he felt it. He didn't feel Valleth's change in energy as much as he experienced a sudden flush of desire, low in his chest, a warm ball hovering comfortably there. Instantly, his thoughts turned to Lynx, the girl he adored, the girl he was growing increasingly sure he loved. He'd never had a motive for doing anything besides his own ambition before, but now he found himself working ever harder to impress her, not just to achieve rank. It was a strange feeling, but a wonderful one. He had felt love before, for his parents, for his old craft, for his little Green Sibilance, and, of course, for Valleth, but this was something different. Lynx wasn't as free with her love as the aforementioned creatures and things. She had to be earned. Somehow, that just made L'ven love her all the more. Down an unknown road To embrace my fate Though the road may wander It will lead me to youL'ven smiled a small smile but a privately happy one. He felt a great sense of contentment, thinking of Lynx, thinking of his Bronze, thinking about the joy of soaring through the air with his. The quietly jovial emotions swelled and filled him. It was like waking up after a particularly nice dream. However, that contentment was short-lived, overrun after a moment by another torrent of lust, sheer and undiluted. L'ven stiffened and almost dropped the straps in surprise. This was... strange. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked heavily several times, trying to clear his eyes. He paused for a moment to regather the bundle of leathers together, the small, busy activity clearing his mind for a moment. He must have eaten something funny at lunch or something. Yes. That was the rational explanation for that. A good long fly in the skies would resolve that! However, it became painfully clear what was happening as soon as he turned around to take the straps over to Valleth. L'ven's jaw dropped as realization crashed over him. He stuttered for a few seconds, before beginning to cough out one word. "No...!" And a thousand years Would be worth the wait It may take a lifetime But somehow I'll see it throughAll it took was one look, the smallest glance at the Bronze's head. His eyes stood out on the shiny, dusty-brown face, for they were whirling a fiercer shade, a more dangerous shade, than L'ven had ever seen on his dragon. Purple. Bright, vivid purple. The color of lust. L'ven locked eyes with his dragon for a moment, and in that moment, he was overcome by another wave of lust. His knees nearly crumpled with the strength of the emotion. It had been bottling up in Valleth for a Turn and a half now, and it was desperate to be released. "Valleth, no!" L'ven protested again, forcing himself to straighten and exerting his own pressure, his own will, on the dragon's mind. "You're too young! You're not supposed to be able to Chase for another half a Turn!" L'ven said, pulling with all of his significant mental strength on the dragon's mind, the good, solid weight of facts aiding him. Valleth pushed forward, taking two powerful steps towards the ledge. Nikianeth calls, Mine! [/color] the Bronze declared passionately, as the Orange's bugle rang out again. And why should simple numbers keep me from her?[/color] His voice was hoarse, longing, and he shook his head, tearing his mind from L'ven's grasp with the unnatural ease of one who had been waiting far too long for this moment.[/right] And I won't look back I can go the distance And I'll stay on track No I won't accept defeat
L'ven stood there as helpless as a wherry, trying to meet Valleth's glance one more time. He did, and did something that L'ven rarely did: he implored. His eyes begged Valleth to think this through, to be sensible. Valleth tore his gaze from L'ven's again, ripping the last shred of control out of the Weyrling's hands. L'ven exhaled noisily, in frustration, in fear, in despair. Oh, Mine, it could be worse! [/color] Valleth said lightly with his old, teasing tone. It was only him and His for a few seconds more. I could be making you lose your virginity to a male![/color] he said impishly before pulling open his wings, stretching them, preparing him for the task ahead. L'ven had trained him well for this-- it was too bad His was so reluctant about this! L'ven was too shocked at this whole situation to reply for a moment, but when he found his voice, he was surprisingly in control, managing to beat away the most recent flood of lust. "I am not a virgin!" L'ven protested hotly. Oh, Mine, you do know how pointless it is to try and lie to me, don't you?[/color] Valleth drawled easily, confidently. L'ven was left perfectly speechless. The Bronze gathered up his muscles and leapt powerfully off of the ledge, pinning his wings against his side and soaring upwards, relying on only his propulsion. Then, he twisted, and began to fall. When he was a mere dozen feet from the ground, his wings snapped open, carrying him effortlessly back up into the air.[/right] It's an uphill slope But I won't lose hope Till I go the distance And my journey is complete
Valleth roared, asserting his presence. His voice was well matured, as strong and mighty as Nikianeth's, but it was deep, booming, and unmistakably male. It was the voice of a King! In the sky, it was difficult to tell for those that did not know him that he was still but a Weyrling. His huge form, high up as he was, created vast shadows on the floor of the Bowl, and while Valleth still had growing to do, he was already the size of a proper Bronze, bigger than any mere Brown or Purple could ever hope to be. He was still slimmer than most adults, still growing into his large frame. However, there was no denying that he was mature. He was ready for this! This was for what he and His had been training, almost from day one! Valleth had been shelled to win females. He had been trained to win females. His instinct to charm, to Chase, to emerge victorious ran deeper than just into his heart: it ran into his very being. He circled several times above the herdbeasts, him still in control of his lust, still able to turn his attention to the creatures below him. With deadly precision, Valleth dived, sinking his claws into the neck of one of the herdbeasts. He dragged his kill off to the side, as close to Nikianeth as he dared, before piercing the poor beast's jugular with his fangs and suck its veins dry. He didn't have to be reminded by L'ven to blood, which was fortunate, as the poor sap wasn't capable of remembering anything right now. Valleth just knew. It was right. But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part For a hero's strength is measured by his heartL'ven's world had turned upside down. It almost would have been easier if it had just been as simple as the metaphor implied; he was fairly sure he could navigate the Weyr upside down, but he was struggling severely to keep out Valleth's influence long enough to figure out what the shard he was supposed to be doing. Okay, Valleth was Chasing Nikianeth, which meant he had to go to... oh, shells, what was her name? Images that weren't from L'ven's own eyes flashed in his head, clouding his mind, preventing him from thinking straight. Armania! That's what it was! But where was her weyr? For a moment, L'ven thought it might almost be better to lock himself into his weyr and just wait for it to be over, but he staggered before he could even finish that thought, blinded by Valleth's desire again. Then, something amazing happened. L'ven gave up. He didn't want to deal with this. He wasn't ready. He wanted Lynx, not this Orangerider he had never met! But, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't stop Valleth now. So, he simply surrendered, gave up his mind to Valleth. And, then, his feet started moving, almost on their own. L'ven almost couldn't see any more, but it was almost as if he didn't need directing anymore. Valleth's lust was guiding him, Valleth's, to Nikianeth's. Like a shooting star I can go the distance I will search the world I will face its harmsValleth bled only one herdbeast. He didn't need more. He had been secretly preparing himself for this day for the past sevenday, unbeknown to His. Nikianeth deserved no less dedication and planning ahead, after all! He pushed the carcass roughly off to the side before crouching down slightly, filling his eyes with the beauty that was Nikianeth. In her wild beauty, she was flawless, impeccable, perfect. She was gorgeous, ravishing, enrapturing. There was no adjective wonderful enough to even begin to describe her. Her sheer perfection was far more inspiration than Valleth needed. He wanted her, wanted to feel her hot hide against his, twine her neck with his own. He wouldn't rest until he had won her attention! He would pour out ever bit of strength he had in his Bronze body for her! He would prove to her that he was everything a King should be and more! He would show her that he was far more than just a Weyrling dragon in over his head! And he would win! I don't care how far I can go the distance Till I find my hero's welcome Waiting in your arms...When Nikianeth leapt into the air, Valleth was ready. He rocked back onto his hindquarters, well-toned if still smaller muscles standing out against his hide, coiling himself together. He held himself there for a moment more, building up energy, before releasing, pushing himself off powerful. He rocketed into the air after Nikianeth, wings pumping fast and furiously four, five times before he settled into his rhythm. He pulled in a deep lungful of air before singing out to her. The melody was unfamiliar but undeniably passionate. Valleth was improvising, pulling the notes from his heart, stringing them together in lovely chords that could only pretend to be as beautiful as Nikianeth. He paused to inhale deeply before his song began to ring out again, trying to communicate to Nikianeth just how much he desired her. He was not worthy of her, but he was worthier than any dragon on Pern! His song reached a climatic note as His reached Armania's weyr, laying besotted eyes on her for the first time. Valleth's lust fully hit him, and L'ven, too, wanted to reach out and take Nikianeth's as his own, but he couldn't. Not yet. The pure emotions of the two combined before Valleth's voice began to trail off, getting softer and gentler, more affectionate, before ending with a quiet, loving croon. He was flying easily, ready for anything she would throw at him, ready to show himself as Dalibor's strongest male. All for her. Everything was for her! I will search the world I will face its harms Till I find my hero's welcome Waiting in your arms...[/font]
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Post by Admin on Dec 16, 2009 5:48:07 GMT -5
Hey, soul sister, ain't the Mr. Mister, On the radio, stereo, The way you move ain't fair, you know! Hey, soul sister, I don't want to miss, A single thing you do tonight, hey, hey!
Swimming reminded W'al of growing up, a fisherman's son, a man of the sea. He knew how to swim perfectly well. He'd just never liked it much. Memories of his childhood did him no good. He preferred thoughts of his Weyr life, good and bad. However, a lazy spring day at the lake with Kerath? Plenty of fun. He didn't have any weyrlings to teach until the next day. They had chores and personal things to do and other lectures to attend. So, after a light meal, he stretched out comfortably on a rock and proceeded to take a nice nap until he burned to a crisp. Kerath waded into the water, send waves rippling out in front of him with his long wings. Awkward steps on the ground gave way to more grace in the water and he paddled contently about, blowing bubbles out his nose and enjoying the cool water on his sun warmed hide. Though obviously not a weyrling, a properly formed purple in all respects with some experience under his wings, he looked playfully, zipping about the lake and breaking its placid surface with quick strokes and lazy wags of his tail. He watched the sky, considering it and thinking on what the weather might turn into if it didn't remain as fair as it had been. He liked to think upon such things at times.
It didn't take the purple too long to turn to less solitary things. He eyed his rider with one multifaceted eye, careful to keep a low profile in thought and action. He slithered into the shallows, until his claws brushed the sands and rocks of the bottom. With a single beat of his wings, he covered his dozing rider in a nice wave of water. Rumbling with laughter, making little waves appear around his chest, he darted away, adding a playful spurt of water with a slap of his tail to send a little more water drizzling on his rider. W'al shook water from his hair, spluttering behind a grin to remove liquid from his face. However, he only opened one eye to give his retreating, amused purple a look. He closed it as he sat up, pretending to be so high and mighty and above such childish and idiotic things. He pried his shirt from his body and flung it to the side, along with the sandals he'd been wearing. He snuggled closer to his comfy rock, acting as if nothing had changed in the slightest. Kerath wasn't convinced, and with good reason. His rider lazily plotted his revenge. Between the two of them, it didn't have to be quick, and it might be forgotten altogether. In the end, he would pay his dragon back in some way, or they'd go prank someone else.
However, it was not revenge or pranks or other tomfoolery that roused the young weyrlingmaster from his spot on the shore of the lake. There was a bugle, and the sound of rustling wings against water. The emotions that these sounds meant and triggered slipped slowly into his mind as his eyes snapped open. He raised his head. Kerath's head hovered inches from his face. That didn't really bother him. His purple's eye swirled a more vibrant mix of purple than his dragon's hide. That didn't really bother him. He simply tilted his head and then twisted his body around, scanning the bowl. His fingers clenched the rock. The emotions of a flight were familiar to him. He wasn't so out of place in his youth with his position. They were overwhelming, overpowering, passionate, amazing, gripping. They weren't scary, and Kerath was right there, waiting for him. Whichever dragon he wished to fly, she wasn't flying yet, and he wasn't too far gone. Who was flying, who was flying. He knew Kalith had flown, but that had been several days ago. One of the greens? A pink? He'd been so busy with the Freedomfighters. Flights and relationships hadn't been so much on his mind. Oh! He should have known, remembering. He smiled.
It was Nikianeth, one of the Weyr's two oranges. He should have known she was flying! She'd been vibrant for days, enough so that she'd been sent away when Kalith had flown. He scolded himself, but focused back on Kerath as the purple joined in on the chiding, still standing right in front of him. The chiding he got from his dragon was for different reasons, and brought on a confusion of thoughts mixed between them. He should have known because Nikianeth was so beautiful! He should have known because there was none more worthy for him to fly for! He should have known because he wanted to chase her until the ends of Pern and the sky and to the dawn sisters and to the moons and to the Red Star where they would defeat thread together as they fell from the sky! Half lost in the wander of his brilliant purple's wondrous ideas and dreams, W'al did his best to focus his eyes on the waiting dragon in front of him. Have fun; he consent, grip on the rock he still sat on loosening. The grin across his face was half from half begun lust and half from amusement at all the reasons behind it. They were as countless as the stars, those reasons, for no star could match Nikianeth! No moon! Not a single thing could match Nikianeth!
The purple hadn't even properly set eyes upon the orange, only seen her shiny hide in the distance as she moved from her weyr that day and the few days before, and he knew all of that already. With his rider having consented, for they made a better team than a pair at odds, he surged upward. He trailed water from the lake, dripping it upon his rider as he beat his wings. Rumbling with amusement at that, for he saw no reason to not be perfectly amused and in the best of moods at that time, he soared across the bowl. She wasn't hard to find. He'd known where she was from the moment she had called. He had eyes only for her as he settled on a ledge near the pens to watch her. She was blooding her kills, and there couldn't be a more magnificent sight! She was poetry in motion, so strong and powerful! There was some young bronze, a very young bronze, blooding a kill of his own there as well, but Kerath didn't care about the shiny little Kingling! Simple orange beat shiny metallics any day! Wouldn't his purple hide look so beautiful against hers? Purple and orange were such pretty colors, though she was certainly prettier than him! She was beautiful, radiant, perfect, brilliant! He bugled to her, his first greeting to her, as she continued to blood, voice not powerful but melodic and clear.
Rather than blooding a kill, Kerath remained on his perch, simply watching. He didn't need the burst of energy. He wanted to chase as he was. It wasn't the time to think of eating or consuming anything. It was the time to think of flying, and he flew well! His eyes never leaving her as she selected another beast, he began to stretch. It was one muscle at a time, each of his legs, the top portion and the bottom. He flexed his wings, rolling his shoulders and twisting his neck with it to stretch the muscles through them so they would be ready. He would be ready to fly her. It was a careful science, except that he knew no science, taking those few moments to prepare himself. His claws splayed against rock, warm from light that did so much more for the beauty and magnificence of Nikianeth, under his feet, not digging in but simply straining the little appendages of his toes. Every part of him would be ready for her. All of him would be for her! His tail curled around his body and then flicked behind him. He crouched, waiting, watching her, enjoying those moments were he could easily see her beauty. She would become a much harder prize to see in only quick moments. He felt little anticipation. It was all connected, no strain between.
Once his dragon was long gone and occupied, W'al launched himself off the rock and hit the ground running. He ran for the weyr of Nikianeth's, ran without even having to think. He simply followed his feet and the throbbing in his body. A pleasant smile was plastered across his face, his mood light and airy with his drifting feelings and emotions and thoughts. Flights were a magical thing, if one happened to have so little stake in it and an adoration of the occurrence! However, it was the magic of the flight that kept him from remembering that he was dripping bits of water and didn't have shoes or a shirt until he was almost at the weyr. He paused and tried to straighten out his wet, brilliant blond hair. Then he felt the flight really starting to begin behind him, raucous voices filling his head in a reverberating, echoed call. He hurried forward. He vaguely saw that L'ven had also reached the space, but mainly he thought on Nia. She was pretty. Beyond the flight lust, he would have found her pretty, did find her pretty, with her dark hair and gray eyes against pale skin. She was small and slender. She was pretty and young, though too old for L'ven, too old for the weyrling. Perhaps that was Kerath thinking for him, but Kerath hardly seemed to care about the bronze. The confusion made him smile.
W'al was quite comfortable, hanging back from Nia and away from L'ven. He was fine with Kerath chasing. He didn't mind. The purple had done it before, and he would do it again. It was so the life of a rider went. He offered no protest. Nikianeth and Armania were a fine pair, and any outcome was fine with him. At the very least, Kerath wasn't trying to fly Kalith. The purple, and perhaps himself, might have one thought some small ambition to it, but they had never been an ambitious pair. He had no interest in ending up in bed with the Weyrwoman. In truth, the formidable woman only a few turns older than him scared him shirtless. The pun came to mind, in the sometimes mixed world of his mind that was even more mixed up by the flight, and he giggled, the silly noise entirely out of place in the serious, passionate atmosphere of the flight. However, it seemed quite appropriate for him. Nia had all of his respect and adoration at that time, as Nikianeth had all of Kerath in the sky. He simply wasn't a serious fellow. Neither of them were. Even in the tumultuous emotions of the flight, they were quite in stride with each other, quite happy with life, quite mischievous and playful. They would offer nothing that Valleth had but plenty more.
Watching Armania, vaguely concerned for her but not wishing to approach, he leaned against a wall, before feeling it prickle against his bare flesh and he hurriedly straightened. He felt peaceful, at ease in the flight rather than strained, but he was still on edge and highly alert. He had to fly with Kerath, though he could never match the purple's skill. He was just baggage with a head upon his shoulders. He believed in the purple, though, that the purple might win. Perhaps not. Maybe so. He was neutral on the subject, aside from a ton of things, like the flurry of emotions from Kerath and an attraction to Nia. Oh, he wanted to win. It wasn't in his nature to go and lose. In fact, he was probably more competitive than Kerath by a long shot. However, no devastation waited on the other side for them. They flew with light hearts and an airiness! He swayed slightly, smiling. Orange hide and dark hair blurred together. He felt surrounded in beautiful. It was a beautiful day. He felt Kerath, the other half of himself, agree. Oh, it was definitely a beautiful day. He felt himself stretching his wings wide. He flexed his fingers at his side. This is why he had never been a fisherman. He had, in some lifetime, been born to fly! On dragon wings and dragon dreams!
Nikianeth surged into the sky, and Kerath launched himself right behind her. He saw Valleth rocket right into her wake, scrambling with his wings at first. A dragon's smirk played across the purple's playful face. His wings beat quickly and rhythmically at his sides, sending him sailing after her with ease. For him, the test would come later, in endurance, where the larger, younger King might be able to best him. However, in those first moments? He flew with an ease that was fitting of him. He was at home in the sky. He felt and sensed the wind, catching it with his first strokes in the only right way to bend it to his will. It whispered in his ears, telling him its secrets and jokes for his amusements. His long body and long wings were adapted for the task. A dragon was meant to fly, and he was meant to fly more than most! He wasn't a King, but he could be her sky king! Perhaps a soul worthy of her queenly favor if he was that! She would be the ruler of the sky, but he would be right there with her. He would show her how well he could fly. He would prove that she had to pick him. Maybe! Hopefully! If she choose! He flew on dreams and ideas and wishes, with the wind.
Challenging them, she bugled again, and he heard it, flying on after her with great swiftness. He heard Valleth, who repeatedly faded from his attention as he was not naturally competitive, sing her some flyaway song. If only he could sing for her! He let out a trumpet of his own, letting her know that he answered her call. However, he saw how she danced, so quick and swift in the air, so intriguing and alluring! He danced back to her as he chased, following her up into the air. He twisted and darted, following no straight path. Fleet and light of wing, he kept up with her with his rhythmic, swirling movements. He painted her a song in the sky, showing her all that he could do. He was careful to keep from taxing himself too much, but it was so much fun to dance with her in the sky! He added one roll, flipping himself around in the playful motion, and then streaked after her with a joyous cry that had nothing to do with challenge. Oh, how pretty she was! Oh, how pretty the sky was! Oh, how much more beautiful she was! She made his heart sing. She made him want to dance and play. She made him what to prove himself. What was he to do? He flew! He flew for her! He flew and breathed and lived for her! Oh, he flew!
Just in time, I'm so glad, You have a one-track mind like me, You gave my life direction, A game show love connection we can't deny, I'm so obsessed.
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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 Dec 16, 2009 20:03:51 GMT -5
From far away on his favorite island of the Western Ring, Yusriyath suddenly raised his head, his eyes whirring with curiosity. His was not the only head raised, however. Almost instantaneously a larger, beautiful Orange head snapped up as well. Both of the two riders nearby also raised their heads in question. In a comical way, each ones expression mirrored that of their bonded. Y’nis cocked his head curiously, listening for some sound that he could not yet hear that his Purple did. What could it be? Varya, as well as Alizadehth, were far more serious. The Orange knew precisely what the sound she was hearing was, and Varya read it from her mind and frowned.
YuMine, what is it? he implored from where he was sprawled nearby. Varya and Alizadehth had come to visit, for the riders were old friends. They were both sitting in the sand talking and enjoying the heat of the sun that always seemed to penetrate this particular little island. Even in the winter it had not seemed so cold there in its proximity to the sea. Varya, it seemed, had a lot of woe to tell and had been lying on her back with her head near to Y’nis’s lap. He sympathized with his friend as she told him all of her troubles with D’ror, stroking her hair and nodding and making sympathetic noises where appropriate. Yes, yes- men were scum. He had to bite his lip to hide a smile when she told him o D’ror’s involvement with T’el. It was of course not funny that she was so cut up about it, and tactically D’ror had made a very stupid move (in his head Y’nis recalled that he was not unknown for these), but he too was guilty of tangling with the dirty IronRider. What fun it had been when T’el had paid him a visit on his little sunshiney island! Y’nis had not seen him again, though. He supposed that men such as he got more of a kick out of less willing victims.
But the peaceful scene had quickly changed when the dragons were made alert by some sound. Varya had sat up and abandoned her story mid-sentence and Y’nis looked to His with interest. It’s… a mating call, YaMine! Yusriyath said with excitement, placing the sound. Yes, now he knew it with perfect clarity: it was the sound of a female on the rise and eager for followers! A mating call? Yusriyath stretched his mind further, touching the brilliant female that gave the alluring cry. It’s Orange Nikaineth, from Dalibor, he reported, his eyes beginning to swirl with colors of a dark, lusty hue.
He was so caught up in finding this information, rising to his feet as he did so, that he was oblivious to Alizadehth’s reaction. Yusriyath turned in surprise as Alizadehth let out a low, dangerous snarl. Yes, she remembered seeing another Orange that first time she and Abeneth had met Dalibor’s Queen Wing in the sky. Alizadehth loathed Kalith, the domesticated Dalibor Queen, with every fiber of her immense being, but this Nikaineth lit a new spark of hatred in the jealous place of her heart. Alizadehth… Varya said warningly, getting to her feet with a face a serious as death. She could feel the anger rising within her bonded. Yusriyath was already being pulled back towards the call, his thoughts distant, which made things all the more worse.
”Renegade dragons do not fly Dalibor scum!” Varya spat, turning on Y’nis with some of the fury that her dragon increasingly felt. ”You saw what happened when D’ror was foolish enough to let Abeneth chase Kalith-“ Alizadeth unleashed a terrible roar at this reminder. She had been furious at what that Copper monster had done to her Abeneth. HERS! All of the renegade males belonged to her! Even Yusriyath, the Purple who usually admired her. Even Sjueth, whom she had never cared to meet. And now when there was a rival of the same hue as her in the sky, one of her males was looking to it, prepared to fly. She would not have it!
Alizadehth bellowed viciously as Yusriyath took flight, lunging forward with the intent of ripping him from the sky. ”NO!” Varya commanded aloud, her voice practically a scream. Her words were meaningful enough that Alizadehth remained poised for a fraction of a second. That fraction was all that nimble Yusriyath needed. Grabbing Y’nis in one of his claws, he veered out over the water and betweened in an instant. He left behind the echoing cries of an angry pair and reappeared to the vibrations of the challenging roars of the one he wished to follow. Nikaineth did not mean as much to him as Alizadehth, he knew this as he dropped Y’nis unceremoniously near Dalibor as he shot up and after her. He let out an eager, admiring bugle and soared to her shadow, giving the Dalibor males wide birth. He did not want to end up like Abeneth, but he adored Niki as he sung to her and flew after her with the most light-hearted and eager of swoops and twirls. Would she allow him to chase her? Only time would tell, but until he tired or was removed by force he was incapable of pulling himself away.
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Post by jack on Dec 18, 2009 17:12:50 GMT -5
Kalith's Flight had made him grumpy. For so long he had waited, healing and growing stronger so that he could show that foolish creature that he wasn't just some half-sized tunnelsnake. But that shining monster had chosen again, and again, it was that same oversized lizard. Shoth's claws dug deep into the earth and he growled, snapping his jaws to the side at nothing. At his side, B'rak merely glanced at him, a hand gently reaching up to pat the great Bronze hide.
Personally, B'rak wasn't bothered by losing again. He had had B'nyur to come to once again, and his chest tightened in glee as he remembered the evening following that Flight. A soft smile spread onto his lips and he turned the page of his book lazily, running a hand through his hair before adjusting the way he was leaning against Shoth. The dragon gave a soft grumble and settled down a bit, stretching out his neck against the stone. "Sulking won't help." His offered after a moment, glancing to the Bronze, "But Kalith...Kalith won't let you Fly her. You know that."
The Bronze snorted and flicked his tail, closing his eyes stubbornly, On the contrary. I won't Chase. B'rak smirked, and shook his head, gently scratching the creature's beautiful hide. Shoth shifted and flicked his tail once more, seeming now content to settle into a nap. But, as though the world were conspiring against his naptimes, a bugle split the sky.
His head shot up, wings fluttering slightly, and B'rak grunted as the animal's interest flooded into him. Nikianeth. "The Orange...?" Yes. Without warning the dragon rose, his neck arched and wings partially lifted as he slid to the ledge of their weyr, staring out over the world silently. B'rak--left to lean on nothing--laid back against the stone, watching his partner with curious eyes. Curiosity bled to lust, however, when the dragon suddenly let loose a wave of Flight urge, and the white-haired man gave a soft grunt as he arched his back against the floor. Grumbling, he sat up stormily, giving Shoth a glare as he tossed his book to the side.
B'rak wandered away--hunting down B'nyur--and Shoth gave a draconic grin, his eyes whirling as he let loose his roar. More confident than with Kalith--who was a rude little flit with too many scales and a nasty squishy--he launched himself into the sky. Higher and higher he flew, circling above even Nikianeth as he hunted her down. Wings shining with metallic beauty he glided, and as that beautfiul Orange came into view, he dove. Not coming anywhere near touching her, he fell past her, then with a snap of his wings, he sailed up and twisted himself into a barrel roll, moving to circle only once he'd slowed himself as much as he liked.
The largest of the gathered, Shoth bugled his power and his pride to the Orange, flexing himself and showing just how gallavant he could appear as he sang. She deserved no less than something as handsome as he! Two Purples--one foreign and stinking of renegade--had come to her. She was a Queen! A great Orange Queen, and what made them worthy to Chase? And a Weyrling! A baby would Fly her? He roared, and turned his attention on Valleth, his eyes flashing a deeper shade. The anger of being ignored by Kalith blossomed in his chest, and he felt his claws twitch, the urge to rip and tear and blood everything flashing into his mind.
Immediately, warm miners hands seemed to press against his wings, pulling gently back. Shoth grew oddly still and silent as he circled the great Orange, always keeping his distance but never letting her drift too far. B'rak's grip, gentle yet insistent, flashed predominately in his mind, and he took in a deep breath, relaxing despite the rush of Flight. The rider withdrew after a moment and Shoth lifted his head to Nikianeth, a soft crooning call rumbling in his chest. She was beautiful, she was strong. She would be the fastest and most gorgeous Orange ever to fly. He would make certain--no one who she did not choose would touch her! He would ouftly them all, and she would shine brighter than any over-sized metal Queen could!
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Post by kyrillion on Dec 19, 2009 1:01:09 GMT -5
It was a lovely, temperate spring day that saw S'rial and Duareth lounging in the weyrbowl. The pastel-light brown, stretched out in the cool grass and occupying a surprising amount of space for one of his color, was immensely enjoying the opportunity to soak up some of Rukbat's rays. Even S'rial, sprawled out on his back by his dragon's side, arms pillowing his head and drowsy eyes fixed on the clouds, was more than happy to take a break. This time of day would usually find the brownpair practicing drills and putting in some flying time; with Duareth, remaining fit and strong was a point of pride, and his rider matched him in diligence. But today was special - today, all the Weyr could feel that spring was here at last, and the air felt almost festive. It was like a holiday, and they weren't the only ones treating it as such. All around the bowl, other dragons and riders were taking the opportunity to enjoy some leisure time, and as far as S'rial was concerned it was a sharding good idea. Everybody needed a break, now and then, and if there was work to be done it could surely wait until tomorrow. Smiling contentedly, the young man let his eyes close and his mind wander, and soon enough sleep was tempting him, doing its best to drag him into the world of dreams. And yet, as much as he wished to acquiesce, he resisted. Something was not quite right. Thing's felt... off, and as he racked his brain in an effort to pinpoint the source he gradually noticed that Duareth did not seem quite so laid-back anymore. In fact, he was suddenly radiating tension - and S'rial thought he might just know why. Sitting up, he turned to regard his dragon who, head raised and head tilted, had an all-too-familiar purple color bleeding into the normal blues and greens of his eyes. Nikianeth was rising; just as every eligible male in the Weyr, they had both been well aware of this possibility. He did not know the rider, Armania, particularly well, but she had seemed quite pleasant on the few occasions he'd interacted with her. It hardly surprised him that Duareth would want to chase, and who was he to deny him?
Standing abruptly and taking a moment to stretch and coax some feeling back into his sleepy muscles, he waved almost dismissively at the brown. What are you waiting for? Show these southern dragons how it's done. His mindvoice radiated with good humor and confidence; this would be the pair's first Flight at Dalibor, but S'rial was confident in Duareth's abilities. Perhaps not as confident as Duareth himself, but even his dear brown could only benefit from some encouragement.
Ignoring his rider's comment, or at least deigning not to reply in lieu of better things to focus his attention on (Nikianeth, for instance), Duareth stood promptly and threw himself into the air with surprising grace for one of his size. Gliding leisurely down into the bowl, he kept on eye on the beautiful orange who, at that moment, seemed to be the most stunning creature he'd ever laid eyes upon. Sweeping low over the herdbeasts, but making sure to give the queen (for she was a queen in his eyes) plenty of space, he fell upon a young buck and dispatched it promptly. His rider did not have to warn him to blood it; this would not be Duareth's first Flight.
Sucking the carcass dry of blood, he moved back and waited patiently for Nikianeth to finish her own meal. He scarcely noticed the other suitors, though he did take a moment to survey the competition. He noted, with some surprise, that a very young bronze looked as though he would be chasing; fit as he seemed, Duareth nevertheless considered the others much stiffer competition. They were all young and healthy, and most of them as experienced, or more so, than the brown himself. It would be quite a challenge - but he would prove to this gorgeous orange that he was worthy of her, that he adored her. He would outshine all the others! He would prove himself strong and diligent, considerate and regal. Perhaps not a king by birth, he nevertheless felt regal in his heart as any bronze or iron. He would do his rider proud, and he would do his best to win this lovely lady's affections.
At last, Nikianeth gave a final, challenging cry and shot into the air like a star. She was dazzling! A rush of adrenaline flooded Duareth's systems, setting every fiber on fire and filling his heart with emotion - he felt light as a feather, fleet as the wind! He gave a strong, forceful bugle in answer to her call, and as he spread his wings and tensed every muscle he sang to let her know he would Chase her as far as she wished to fly!
All of that tension was released as he launched forward, flinging himself into the sky, broad wings pumping strongly and lending him a burst of speed as he soared after Nikianeth. All of those practice hours had molded him into a powerful flier, and he was eager to show the orange just what he was capable of. Sailing easily up, up, and away from the Weyr, the ground feel away beneath him, but he scarcely noticed. He only had eyes for her.
S'rial, forcing himself to stay sharp despite the wave of Flight-lust that was spilling over from his dragon, eventually managed to stagger his way up and through the corridors until he reached what he presumed was Nia's weyr (if the group of men gathered outside was any indication). As soon as he'd reached this destination, he gave himself over completely to the Flight - Duareth needed him in this. They were stronger as a team, and both determined as in anything else to be victorious. Suddenly, the brown-haired man had wings - he could feel the rush of the air beneath him and the firm strength in the lean, aerodynamic form that was Duareth. He relished the sensations of flight, and the so rarely attainable sense of absolute oneness with his dragon. They had attained such perfect teamwork, the man dared believe that there was nothing they couldn't accomplish.
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Post by kia on Dec 19, 2009 20:35:18 GMT -5
Nikianeth pumped her wings, not very fast at the moment, but with great strength that she had in her. She was fit and healthy. After all, B`nyur had even said that she looked great. Of course she looked great! How could she not look great? Her hide was a perfect bright orange, an orange to rival any other Orange`s hide. She pumped her wings again, heading toward the sky, toward the clouds, almost toward Rukbat. She could feel her Mine holding onto her with all the strength she had. Nikianeth would protect her Mine. Her Mine just needed to trust her. She turned her head slightly to view the males in her wake.
The first male that she took notice of was a Bronze. He seemed… young. Then she remembered who the Bronze was. It was Valleth, the Bronze from Kalith`s first Clutch. The Orange almost laughed out loud. So, the young Bronze had reached maturity before the rest of his class. She was not that surprised in the least. Even as a young dragonet, he had already seemed interested in the female dragons. And now, the Bronze sought to prove himself already by entering this Flight. Well, a nice, young male would make for an interesting mate and possible father of her Clutch
The second dragon that she took notice of was a Purple she did not recognize. She caught a slight scent of Renegade, even a slight scent of that other Orange, Alizadehth. But, this Purple, Yusriyath, she had seen him once. He was a Renegade, but not as prominently known to Dalibor as that Orange, Brown, and Iron had been. A slight feeling of rebellion shot through Nikianeth. What if a Renegade sired her clutch or even won her Flight? It was different. She would be gloriously known for doing things differently. But the question of whether this decision would be accepted or not rose to the front of her mind. No matter! This was her Flight and her decision!
The next dragon that she noticed was someone new to Dalibor and someone of great importance. This dragon was Brown Duareth, one of the CandidateMasters of the Weyr. He was fairly large for a Brown, but in great shape. Already, she knew he would make a great mate to choose from. But, then again, weren`t they all? But, was already catching up with the rest of the group and showing great promise. She faintly remembered meeting the Brown once, at a meeting, and the man had seemed kind enough. But, what his dragon the same or was he a let down?
Another flash shown in her eyes. Her head turned a bit more to view the dragon. She almost faltered in her Flight at the sight of Shoth. Shoth was chasing her, after ridiculing and mocking her the first time her Mine and his Mine had met. Anger filled her eyes for a moment, but she remembered Kalith`s Flight. The Bronze may have mocked her, still believing he had a chance with Kalith before it became clear the Queen would not have him. Nikianeth rumbled silently. Maybe… the Bronze would give her another chance to prove she was a Queen worth respecting. Yes! She accepted his presence with pride. Unlike Kalith, she would not shun Shoth in her Flight.
Finally, she set her attentions on the final dragon that was chasing her. Kerath, a Purple but another dragon of great importance in the Weyr. He was one of the WeyrlingMaster`s dragons. But Kerath certainly had to be a strong individual for him to keep control of Alizadehth`s Clutch. Well, if Kerath could keep them in control, then choosing the Purple that was over the Renengade Queen`s Clutch would certainly be like sand in a human`s eye. It would mean she would have Risen above the other Orange, making her better! Yes! She liked the thoughts. Everything rationalized soo well.
The Orange gave a bugle. Would no one else join her in her Flight and dance above the Weyr? It would seem so. She echoed a warning bugle to any other male that thought about chasing her. Let them beware her fury! She would not take any leniency to males who were late. She would sooner attack them and shorten her Flight then to let them win her over. She was a Queen, and her called should be answered immediately, like the males that were chasing her now. She flew higher and higher before reaching the pinnacle of her height, tucking her wings in and diving towards the oceans around the Weyr. Let`s see who can keep up with me, she thought.
The Flightlust in Nia had led her to the door of her weyr, opening it and exposing her to the view of the men that had gathered at her door. Each of them was in their Flightlust, battling, like her, the need to reach out and cling to something. She could feel Nikianeth`s hatred toward the Orange Renegade Queen fuel her Flight. Nia reached her mind out, gently tugging on the Orange to calm the dragon. If she did not hold onto her dragon, the rage of beating the evil Queen might send the dragon between forever. Nikianeth sensed her Mine`s worry and slowly backed her mind away from such foolish thoughts. This Flight was to prove what males were worthy of her, to allow her some freedom of flying, and to in the least to have some fun. Nia held onto doorframe of her weyr, her eyes glazed over with images of flying over the Weyr and towards the oceans.
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Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on Dec 21, 2009 0:47:10 GMT -5
Valleth knew that the odds were stacked against him in this Flight. It had everything to do with the title he bore on his broad, strong shoulders. Weyrling. Weyrling. The Bronze had not quite realized until this point what an ugly word it was. If anything, it was the ugliest word on Pern, because it in its simplicity might keep him from Nikianeth! It might keep her from taking him seriously, from thinking that he was the closest of them all to being worthy of her! Well, Valleth was going to prove that he was no green, clumsy youngster who should be simply ignored because he was a Weyrling, therefore he must have no chance! No, not Valleth! That stereotype would work for many dragons, but not for him! He was exceptional! Hadn't he already proved that by being the only one of the four Kings and sub-Kings in his class to answer her call? Hadn't he been one of the few that had had the decency to answer her call, the good judgement to see what a gem she was, how beautiful, how incredible? Well, he had! And he was going to take that one step further and prove to be the best of this meager lot, the only one that came close to being good enough for her! He was going to win! It was just him and the great Orange in the skies. None of the other males mattered to him, and, soon, they shouldn't matter to Nikianeth either. They just couldn't measure up.
He knew that he had erred in the very first part of the flight, the takeoff, trying to scramble into the air too fast after her and having to struggle for those critical first seconds, leaving him behind the other four. He heard their bugles and their croons, the rush of wingbeats around him, the flashes of their hides obscuring Nikianeth from his vision. Valleth pulled his lips back into a snarl but let loose no roar. He took quick stock of the others that had dragged themselves to certain defeat, but his previous annoyance of starting behind faded into triumph that he was the only proper King here. That shiny-hided midget was no bigger than a sub-King. Valleth was shiny, too, and he was big. Big was good and wonderful. Big meant a larger, higher-colored clutch for Nikianeth, and surely a dragoness as perfect and intelligent as she was was aware of that fact! Nevertheless, Valleth could not just rely on his hide to win this for him! And he couldn't stay behind! The Bronze gave one almighty thrust of his wings and was off, flying furiously after Nikianeth. He was not worried about reserving stamina for the end. He was fit, he was healthy, and reaching her was the only thing that mattered. He cut underneath one of the other suitors before edging up next to another, his size only allowing him to gain mere inches at a time at his fastest against the smaller, more agile males. But, each of these inches was another inch closer to Nikianeth!
She was looking at him! That marvelous Orange beauty was looking at him! She was considering him! He had to make these few vital seconds count, or he might not get a second look! Valleth crooned again, his voice deep and rumbling. The Bronze had plenty of air to spare. No hints of tiredness were touching his wings yet, and he was just now settling into stride. His muscles were just beginning to pleasantly stretch and become supple and limber. He was no lithe lower color, but a King and having all of the troubles with agility and incredible stamina that was associated with the rank. It had taken him longer to warm to the work, but Nikianeth hadn't looked back until now! Now was the time to make his move! He swung towards the outside of the pack. Then, he twisted so his great back was toward her, neck craned backwards with his eyes searching for hers, wings perpendicular to the ground. He let his momentum carry him forwards, ever upwards, after her. The second he started to flat, gravity beginning to win the fight, he completed the barrel roll before surging after her again. She was still soaring ever higher, her brilliance challenging that of Rukbat itself, but Valleth would not shy away from such a task. This was nothing, compared to what he would put himself through to get to her. This measly climb was only a chance for him to show off his prowess in the air, show her that not only was big and strong and enduring, but he was agile and creative! He was not going to just tag along after her like a useless wherry! She was truly Queen of the Skies, and he would be her King, and this would be their domain! It was impossible to outshine her, not that he wanted to, but he was clearly far superior to all of these other dragons. He was worthy of a second and third and fourth look! He was the worthiest of become her mate! He was!
L'ven was confused, overwhelmed, awash with emotions that weren't his. He was Valleth, and he didn't want to be Valleth! The minutely small part of him that was still himself (and whether that part even existed anymore was negligible) didn't want to be here. The little speck of identity he had was screaming at the Valleth part of him to get out of the air before Callistath, or, worse, Gneith found out what he was doing. However, it wasn't the rational part of him that was in charge. For the first time since Valleth had been shelled, the balance between him and L'ven had been broken, and it was Valleth who was fully in charge. L'ven had known this was coming, but he never would have expected it to happen so soon, and he hadn't had time to adequately prepare for this. He hadn't had time to reinforce in Valleth's mind that relationships were good things and beat out the part that seemed destined to become a dragon P'nay. And now, L'ven was drowning in emotions he didn't own, desires that couldn't be fulfilled without the worst of consequences. That didn't matter to him. The future didn't matter. Only the present did. L'ven was struggling with himself, part of him yearning to reach out to Armania and pull her into his arms, another section of him keeping him from doing so, knowing that it wasn't yet time. He couldn't take her; she had to take him.
Valleth was most displeased when Nikianeth began to look at her other suitors. It took all of his little self-control and L'ven's more impressive inhibition to keep from calling out to her, to bring her attention back to him. Valleth was not a stupid dragon, and he very grudgingly acknowledged the fact that Nikianeth had to address her other suitors as well. If she didn't, they might not Chase her next time around, or buckle or quit on her in the air. Obviously, Valleth would Chase the glorious dragoness every time she Rose, and he wouldn't even begin to consider quitting on her, but there was no telling what those lesser males might do without her encouragement. And, besides, there might be one or two among the bunch that were long shots to win this, and Nikianeth should consider every male carefully. Every female should. All of them had experience, and most of them had rank, on Valleth. None of them had to worry about unfair, injust titles stamped in front of their names, like he did. They were all older, undeniably mature males, expected to rise after Nikianeth like males of their ages and colors were supposed to. They were boring, unsurprising, and predictable. They had nothing to prove. They had already done that, with deeds outside of Flight. Valleth couldn't remember exactly what they had done to deserve respect, but he knew they had done something. What it was wasn't important. But, Valleth... Valleth was something new, exciting, enigmatic! He and His had achieved as much as they could hope for a Weyrlingpair, but that wasn't enough for the Bronze! He had to push the envelope, bend the rules, strive for things no dragon his age was supposed to! Valleth pushed forward one more foot, then another, and another, flying as fast as he could, immune to the exertion as of yet.
The Bronze was confident almost to a fault. As much as he agonized over being called a Weyrling, being expected to perform like one in this Flight, he wasn't going to let it keep him from winning. He knew he was going to win. He was simply the best dragon here. There was no denying it. He was the biggest, the boldest, the most affectionate, the most chivalrous, the strongest. He was egotistical, yes, but no other dragon could hear his thoughts. They only served as electricity in his veins, combining with the adrenaline and testosterone to make a potent mix that would push him to victory. His cockiness led to optimism; his optimism led him to believe he actually had a chance in this. Standing back and viewing the situation objectively, the average person would scoff at the Bronze's chances, even though he was, well, a Bronze, and the size of a slightly below average representative of his color even at his age. He was a Weyrling, this was his first Flight, and he was still growing into himself. However, Valleth's attitude, laughable as it was, made him a contender not to be simply ignored because of how old he was. His desire for Nikianeth, as was his desire for almost all females that he laid eyes on, was as strong as the instinct that kept Queens clutching, the drive that kept plants growing towards Rukbat's warm rays, even the force that kept Pern in its place in the sky. His desire was matched by His's own assiduousness to keep Valleth as fit as possible, molding him into the perfect flying machine. And, yes, that training was coming back to haunt L'ven, but it was not L'ven or even Armania that mattered right now. It all came back to Nikianeth, Nikianeth and Valleth. Both of them; together. It would happen. He would make it happen.
Nikianeth was everything. Right now, there was nothing else. No Gneith. No Callistath. No Oorth. No Rhyolith. There was even no L'ven. The Bronze had never been so focused on one dragoness in his entire lifetime. The more he filled his eyes with her, the more she filled him. The longer he stared, the more he doubted that he would ever be able to tear his eyes away. The farther he flew after her, the less reason he saw for ever Chasing another female. She was beautiful, wonderful, absolutely perfect in every way. Every small movement in her sinuous, sensual form was made of pure grace, every tiny gesture that was or was not meant for the males served only to stir up still greater desire and courage from the young Bronze. How had he never really noticed her before? How had he committed the greatest error in neglecting to try and charm her, make her feel loved and adored? Why had it taken a Flight for him to finally work up the bravery to test the waters outside of his own Weyrling class? It was absolutely unacceptable. However, Valleth was not one to dwell on his past mistakes. All he could do was try to make up for them in the present, and that's what he was doing. All the love and devotion that he should have shown Nikianeth in months past were being expressed now. She was done surveying the males. Valleth crooned again, loud enough that she would hear him if she cared to listen, soft enough that the other males present wouldn't be forced to hear him. His sweet call was for Nikianeth only, to remind her that he was still here, still fighting, for her. He would not let himself be forgotten. Perhaps he was being too pushy, but he couldn't afford not to be. There was too much at stake! He stood a chance at losing her if he stayed silent, stayed passive, let his reputation speak for itself like some of the others might get away with doing! He couldn't lose her! He couldn't!
A tiny pang of tiredness began to shoot through his shoulders as Nikianeth bugled one more time, a final challenge. He set his jaw and continued to rocket forward, both eyes on the great, glorious dragoness flying so temptingly in front of him, but his other senses searching for thermals and other small deviations in the air that could help or hinder him on his quest for her. He was not experienced with spring air. Shamefully, this was his first spring able to fly at this altitude. He was finding little help, but he refused to allow such small, insignificant setbacks derail him. It took him several minutes to even notice that his muscles were beginning to ache, but when he did realize this unfortunate fact, the first thought that came to his mind was that he was that much closer to having Nikianeth twined with him. He hadn't expected this to be easy; he hadn't wanted it to be easy. He wanted to prove without a doubt in any dragon's mind that he had earned this, that he was the only deserving one of the great privilege Nikianeth had to offer them. If he was beginning to feel the lightest touch of fatigue, the others must be feeling many times the effect. They were built for speed; they had outdone him there, but now was his time to show what he was made of! He roughly shoved aside the pain and the weariness, slashed his tail through the air, and accelerated still more, each breath of the thin, cold air beginning to sear at his lungs. He didn't care. He would take anything for Nikianeth. If he had to fly through Thread to win her, he gladly would have. She deserved everything he had to offer and more-- if he could fly with the strength of a Weyrfull of dragons, it still would not have done her glory justice.
Suddenly, their climb was over. She was tucking her wings in, and for a brief, frantic moment, Valleth thought that it was over; she was falling to her victor now. That moment was followed by another of sheer desperation as he lunged forward, willing himself to hear her voice in his mind, selecting him out as the best among the good. However, it was merely a false alarm. She was diving. Valleth's eyes whirled still stronger with lust. She was not going to make this easy! Well, let her test them! Let her test him! He would prove his strength, his tenacity, his worthiness to be her mate! Valleth didn't even have to think about how he would handle this newest challenge. While she dived, he passed her in the air, soaring, if anything, farther up. Instead of simply dropping like a stone, like any dragon could, he coaxed his tiring wings into another tremendous effort, pulling him straight up, before tipping his nose backwards and letting his body smoothly follow, upside down for a moment before his momentum carried him all the way through the loop and soared downward. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered that move impressing another female before, but if it were any female, it had to be Nikianeth. He was shaped impeccably for a dive like this, near vertical from nose to tailtip, wings and limbs flattened against his barrel. The wind screamed past him, making it difficult to draw breath, but Valleth hardly felt the iron bands settling around his ribs. His entire attention was focused on Nikianeth, trying to squeeze his body into a still narrower cylinder, wanting to fall faster and faster to draw him closer to the Orange. He had no intentions of pulling out of the dive early. He would not spread his wings until the Orange Queen spread hers or until he had no choice to fly or crash into the water. He would risk everything for her.
Valleth's human spirit was visibly struggling not to simply take Nikianeth's when she appeared at the doorway. It took him a long moment to get a handle on himself and straighten, relaxing back against the stone wall and outwardly content to just let his eyes wander over her gorgeous, enrapturing form. Inwardly, of course, the battle would continue to fight itself out until the very last moment, until she made her decision, his utterly overwhelming lust for her and his revulsion of standing still waiting for others to make the first move making a strong stand against the part of him that was screaming for him to remain sensible and wait for her to choose him. Victory would be far sweeter that way, and he wouldn't get beat to a pulp by the four others gathered there that wanted Nikianeth's almost as much as he did. By this point, the part of him that was L'ven had been shoved into oblivion. His feet weren't on the ground, they were clamped tightly against his belly. His eyes weren't on a beautiful human female, they were locked onto the form of an extraordinary Orange dragoness. He wasn't standing still, he was plummeting towards the ocean. He didn't have a second half anymore, close but distinct. The halves had fused together into one entity, Chasing after another. They flew as one-- it didn't matter that they only had one pair of wings between the two of them. They strove as one-- the fact that one had to exert all the energy while the other was chained to inactivity was meaningless. They Chased as one. They fought as one. And soon, very soon, they might win as one.
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Admin
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brect[M:-2154]
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Post by Admin on Dec 21, 2009 8:31:42 GMT -5
Well, I had a dream, I stood beneath an orange sky, Yes, I had a dream, I stood beneath an orange sky.
Oh, the sky! His faithful friend! Every since the skinny, long, awkward purple had hatched, had been shelled, been born, been alive, been growing, been in existence, he and the sky had been friends. The ground was a cumbersome thing, but it was long gone. There had been a few seasons, a few long months, where he hadn't known. There had only been W'al then, to protect him. He hadn't known back then, a poor, innocent soul. He couldn't remember such times as those though, except for indistinct thoughts from his rider. He forgot many things. He learned, but such lessons were unconnected to things from way back when, before he had flown. He couldn't imagine such a time, because then he had flown. Longs wings and awkward limbs became assets to him, and all hindrances had disappeared. He and the sky were old friends. Freedom rushed through his veins with each beat of his wings. It knew his secrets. It had seen the deaths of friends he had known. It had seen him fly before. He knew its secrets. It was impossible to tame and unfathomable, but so he was. He was a proper dragon. All complacency from him was in good fun. He might be simple, but he didn't mind. So as long as the sky wouldn't send into the ground and clip his wings, let him always keep on learning its tricks, he wouldn't mind who he was. He couldn't mind who he was. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing like that matter, because only Nikianeth mattered. He couldn't remember anything else. Being simple was good. He didn't need to be complicated for her. He didn't want to be. He just wanted to know her like the sky! He had flown in the sky for turns. He wanted Nikianeth for just a moment! It couldn't be too hard! He didn't even dare hope for one turn with her! The sky wasn't enough for him! He needed Nikianeth.
Of course, that made sense. Nikianeth wasn't the sky, and she was far better than it. He did hope she wouldn't ground him either. At the very least, he wanted to see every last glimmer of her hide, even if only from a distance, from that day until the end of Pern. She was more beautiful than everything. Did he need to say what? He would tell them all, if she wished, though he thought her too perfect to want to hear such silly things! He knew he was a silly creature, but he could think of so many examples! Perhaps, one day, one moment, he would get to tell her! He dreamed of the future, drifting and soaring easily in the sky. She was more beautiful than all the flowers of every single southern meadow. She was more beautiful than Rukbat, wrapped in the hazy mist of a late evening fall cloud so that all could see it by some twist of luck. She was more beautiful than the Red Star, barely visible in the early mornings, for she had all the dangerous of it though she was far kinder and far better. She was more beautiful than all the stars that shone in the sky; she was a far prettier shade than any of them. She was more beautiful than the sight of waves breaking against the cliffs of the coast with spray and mist mixing in a beautiful swirl of gray on gray in the air. She was more beautiful than rainbows, even the ones where it was still lightly raining and the clouds framed it like nothing else. Kerath could think of so many examples, and he would say them over and over again if needed. However, he mainly flew. He flew for her, flew in the moment. His ideas didn't matter, not yet. The moment mattered. The sky mattered, but only for her! Beautiful, magnificent, gorgeous, shining, radiant orange Nikianeth!
Eyes, her swirling eyes, crossed his vision and then became emblazoned in his mind. They shone, like rubies or amethysts or a new mix of both that was so much better. They glittered. He could see that she was smart, intelligent, wonderful, strong, fierce, passionate, perfect in those eyes. Those eyes that saw him. He darted in her sight, danced with her motions, danced for her with wisps of airs and wisps of clouds. He pressed forward, then to the side, then up, then down. He twirled, fainted, always in a constant set of motions. Knowing that she saw him, acknowledged him, sent him to more technical, subtle feats. They became less about grandeur and more about almost perfection in execution. Each beat of his wings was perfect, drawing on every bit of knowledge he had. He ached for his rider, begged for him to help, and took every bit of information he could drag into his mind into hand. He needed no less for her. He wanted no less for her! To the right, to the left, never looking away from her, never forgetting the sight of her eyes, he slipped his wings through the air as if it were nothing, like a hot knife cutting through melted butter. It taxed him, but only as every motion should. Everything had a reaction, a price. The consideration of it thrilled him. He liked how he knew. He liked how he could work it so that he did everything with a semblance of order and knowledge in his chaos. He liked how he might be able to do it so well from that to please her. He was swift and quick. He showed it, never stopping. He did not try to overtake her or out show her. He only tried to match her excellence, to catch her eye, to aid her dance. That not knowing, not being able to be assured, pleased him even more than all the things he knew, which were fleeting then. He liked that he didn't dare to begin to predict her.
Cold stones against his back, W'al closed his eyes. Kerath called to him and he complied, digging through his mind for what he knew and could remember. It was good, that they worked so well together. He didn't know if it was good because Kerath wanted him to think it was so in order for him to win or because it was just a generally good thing, but he didn't mind it either way. He wanted Kerath to be happy. Flight training. Wing training. The dynamics of flight. How it worked. From his new perspective as teacher, from the perspective of a weyrling, from the perspective of a wingrider, from the perspective of a dragon's lifemate, he viewed all options. It was odd, thinking with everything rushing about in his head, but it worked. He normally didn't think that much. In that event of entire opposites, where the balance of everything shifted, there was some sense that he would go and think. It was a perfect mix of spontaneity and a mental staying power, the perfect mix of a perfect pair. He believed Kerath could win. His beautiful purple could win. Kerath lacked the ambition to care. He, however, not an ambitious man much of the time, didn't. On life and limb, on wing and wind, they could win. Waves of lust rolled over him, and he wanted to win. He was alright with that want. He was alright with the passion. He felt it stronger than Kerath, and Kerath's was ridiculously strong in and of itself. It rolled over him, through them, between them. They pushed each other on, to new levels of the passion, the lust. They made no efforts to escape the embrace of it.
Dimly, he knew that others had joined him and L'ven, more aware of them than Kerath was of the others that chased Nikianeth with him in the sky. He dragged his eyes open reluctantly, letting the purple dance by himself, wistfully wishing he could dance in the sky too. S'rial. He knew S'rial. He was a candidatemaster. He liked S'rial, except not very much in that moment. Why did Duareth have to try? Nikianeth, Armania, was going to be his and Kerath's! They wanted her! He wavered, tapping his fingers against the wall and shifting his weight. L'ven. He'd already seen L'ven. Old news, him and Valleth. He closed his eyes again. They were all boring. He didn't even bother with B'rak, Shoth. One was missing. He frowned, blinking his eyes open again. There was another purple. It wasn't Altith. His mind, not on thoughts important to the flight, moved slowly. Renegade. Boring. Grinning faintly to himself, his eyes slid back shut and he leaned his head back. Lust flickered through him again. His grin grew. He was so confident. He showed no weakness, nothing behind that grin. Contradicting his usual method, he used his mind. The influence he painstakingly exacted was subtle, his contribution. Neither Kerath or him were stupid, even with instincts ruling their bodies. That, and the fact Kerath was awesome, was going to be their advantage. Theirs. One and the same. No separation. That wasn't any time to be two entities in mind. Their weyrlings had been taught to work with their dragons. They would go and show them just how important that lesson was!
Dark wings drew across the sky, turning it purple in a blur of motions. He was deeper in color than most of the others. He didn't really think about them. He only knew that neither of the bronzes were dark, that the brown was a pastel, that the other purple was electrically colored. Though he couldn't recall it, he had seen them. Compared to them, he was dark, hide a healthy red purple that darkened across his wings. Perhaps he was handsome? He didn't care. Nikianeth was transcendent of beauty. He couldn't hope to be handsome enough to match her. The content but unworthy soul followed in her climb, letting out a subtle, crooning call in response to her. He didn't try to upstage. He didn't push the envelope. He simply kept up his dancing, swooped upward. His wings curled around his body with each stroke, the awkward motion making his climb strong and agile. He loved it, as he loved her then. He loved flying without having anything to stop him. Higher and higher, he pursued her in a fleeting, hurried, quick fashion, surging after her and then hovering in the air for a split second before fluidly continuing on in her wake. Higher and higher, the height didn't matter to him. Each part of flight was the same to him. Each part could be exemplified, for her! The sky, his companion in the flight, changed as they went higher, but it didn't pose a trial. The only trial was her. She was the trial. She was the test. The only thing that made the entire thing difficult was her. That was why she was wondrous, that was why he rose on, higher and higher, after her. His dance became slighter with the increasing altitude, but it didn't end. It changed, to dips and bobs, playing with changes in the air and the change in how he had to follow her in order to pursue.
Then she dove, the pretty orange with the eyes and the beauty he would never forget, for that was a detail he could remember. He tucked in his wings, flipped in the air, and pursued her, not missing a single beat. She played with the air so well, diving as she did, thinking to do such a thing! He could dive just as well! His angular, arrow-shaped head cut through the air. It crashed over him like a wave breaking on a cliff. He was a cliff, strong and tall and unmovable. The wind made him smooth, made his hide slick and healthy! No, no, wait, he wasn't a cliff. He wasn't strong and tall. He was a playful purple, and proud of it, and proud of the fact such a thing might create alliteration, one of the funnest things his rider had ever taught to him. His dive shifted. He turned in the air and darted to the side, circling the falling Nikianeth behind her. Then he straightened out again and fell faster, forcing himself smaller, quicker even when it was simply gravity carrying him, to catch up with her. He did it again and again, danced in the sky, refusing to simply fall and let it break over him, until she stopped. Then he would be after her quickest! He didn't need to fall for her quickest! He could think ahead! He had been through flights before! He would be after her quickest, surest, best! The force of the air wasn't so strong when he danced. He finally let out a proper call for her, pulling in air somehow and singing out a few sweet, trumpeting notes in the air. It was best to be in the middle, to show her the perfect respect and flit on the edges with his little flares. He could see her then. He didn't want to force himself. He simply wanted to try. He simply wanted to be, to fly, to dance, to look upon only her, for he wished to look nowhere else, no matter what it took.
After another twist, he dipped down, after her fleeting form. Why did she have to run? Couldn't they simply dance in the sky forever? Couldn't she pick him? His childish dreams and ideals danced in his motions, in the sway of his slim body that moved even as he focused on slipping down after her. He saw only her, not the ground below them. The ground didn't matter. He didn't like the ground. He liked the sky. He liked her. He would fly with her until the ends of the sky, and then he would go onwards, for she would not stop there unless she chose. He would follow her past where time and space fell apart, in something odder and darker and more warped place than between. He would follow her on to the place where all would be put to the test, to the place where things all melted together, to the place where it all flowed into a puddle where only she and those worthy of her would stand. He would follow her through any test, and she would take him to such places. He could see it, in the blaze off her brilliant eyes and hide across his desperate, joyful mind. He saw her beyond everything else. He saw how far he could go. So, he danced as he fell, swirled in the sky, trying to push himself to that limit. He wanted to go beyond the blue sky he zipped through at that time. He wanted to go to an orange sky where things were better than they were there, in the blue sky where things were nice enough already. He wanted to go to an orange sky. She was his orange sky. She would go on for all the eternity that mattered, and he would go with her until her fair weather turned to things not meant for him. An ache flickered through his wings. He shifted his wings and didn't falter. Another twist of flight, another test to prove himself against.
W'al opened his eyes to the sight of Armania. Nothing more beautiful than her. He wanted to dance with her, like his dragon danced with hers in the sky. He wanted to reach out and brush his fingers across her face, her arms, her waist. It wasn't even the lust of a dragon that drove him. It was a ridiculous wonderment. Simple lust wasn't silly enough for the pair of them. It was there, but it brought out a tumble of so much else and they basked in it, just as he basked in the beauty of the woman in front of her. It was true! All of it was true! They weren't liars! Armania was beautiful. Nikianeth was beautiful. Maybe things fueled them at that time. Maybe it was a little bit warped in their eyes. However, it wasn't a lie that the pair was beautiful. It wasn't even simply a physical beauty. The logically illogical part of his mind, still engaged to win, told him that they were good. They served the Weyr; they served the Weyrwoman, just as he and Kerath did. Oh, couldn't they be friends? Couldn't they be good together? The ridiculous thoughts overwhelmed him. One hand, previously hanging limp against his side except for a tension that rippled through his entire body from the feelings of the flight, raised halfway. He reached out for her, eyes like that off a man who was sleep walking, not truly focused on what he saw. What he saw. No lies. No illusions. A warped truth, but a beautiful truth that wouldn't be shattered. He caught himself. One couldn't trust dreams. He settled back against the wall. He pressed himself against the stone, pretending to grow roots into it so he would be stuck and couldn't move. He smiled a little grin of a fool's wisdom.
Then he closed them again. Nikianeth, her eyes and hide, were struck across his mind, just as they were left upon Kerath's short focused brain. He saw only her, feeling each beat of his purple's wing as they rippled through his arms and made his body shake. The lust rolled over him, stronger now and growing stronger yet with each passing second as he fell and twisted and darted and rolled with his dragon in pursuit of the orange beauty. He didn't try to fight it. It wasn't hard for him to keep it under control. He swallowed, bottled it up inside his chest like a net over fluttering insects. It wasn't yet a firelizard, impossible to catch unless it was fed. Not yet. Not yet. The end would come. He could feel it growing nearer with the prickliness of an ignored exhaustion that wasn't his own. Another flight to be won or lost. If only it were that simple. If only dragons were that simple. As simple as it was to him, it was not a simple thing. It was the rush of wings, emotions, wind, feelings, thoughts, ideas, dreams, hopes, wishes, twists, turns, adrenaline, need, want, desire, lust, wonder, desperation, realization, and everything else in the world, all rolled up and tossed together with a careless hand. It was a dance, of which no one knew the exact way to dance it. Nikianeth had the best idea, but she was only a piece of the puzzle. The best piece of the puzzle, the largest piece, the core and most important piece, of course, but only a part of the dance. However, he and Kerath had the rhythm. They could see it in the flutter of wings and in the currents of the wind. This was their puzzle, to be solved, even if only by sheer luck. He absently tapped his foot in a broken tempo.
Here is what I know now, Goes like this, In your love, my salvation lies, In your love, my salvation lies.
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Post by kyrillion on Dec 21, 2009 18:02:01 GMT -5
The air was crisp and refreshing; colder up here than it had been in the bowl, certainly, but the chill was invigorating. Duareth breathed it in eagerly as he climbed steadily after Nikianeth, relishing the feeling of the ice traveling through his veins, so at odds with the burning in his wings and the turmoil of his emotions. Each powerful pump of his wings propelled him higher, higher after the beautiful orange. And though the climb had his heart racing and his shoulders protesting at the sudden and unexpected exertion, he felt light as a feather on the breeze. His focus was fixed on the orange with single-minded stubbornness, and he was ignoring the physical strain so intensely that flying felt all but effortless. There was nothing in that moment but her; how could there be? How could he spare a moment's thought for anything else when she had demanded his attention? And he was more than happy to give her that attention; she was a queen in her own right! Lovely and strong and worthy - it was his own job to convince her that he was worthy. And he would succeed!
Silent encouragement from His buoyed him on, faster and higher and with fiercer determination. Excitement and desire battled with patience and diligence as he spun after her, carefully avoiding the other chasers while keeping Nikianeth in view. Only time would tell how this Flight unfolded; until then, he would do his best and hope for the best. Even that pesky weyrling was turning out to be a worthy enough competitor - Nikianeth had a touch choice ahead of her.
The calm spring day made for excellent flying, but its previously lackadaisical feel only served to irritate the brown. It should not be so calm, so lazy-feeling when such a fierce competition was being fought out! And yet the whole paradoxical scene was like a breathe of fresh air; lovely, like the orange of his desires, but serene. It tempered is feelings and his instincts slightly, just enough to allow his rational mind to retain control despite the turbulent feelings that came with every Flight. It helped his rider, back at the Weyr, exercise some control, for which he was grateful.
Nikianeth's focus seemed fixed on the climb, and for some time she deigned notice her males only when she felt a challenge was in order. But, eventually, she began to acknowledge each of them, examining her potential choices. And then she turned her gaze on him! Eyes churning furiously, he spread his wings and gave an extra burst of speed, angling so that the sun shone brilliantly upon his pastel hide. He moved easily through the air despite his size; he was not the fastest or the most agile, but rather somewhere in between. He may not have had the metallic sheen of a king, either, but he was healthy and in prime condition, and eager to let her see it. He sang softly, his call deep and baritone, and in it he weaved his adoration and devotion and praise for her. For she was magnificent, and deserved only the best! And she would surely choose, in the end, the dragon that was best for her; he only hoped to be worthy of consideration. He would do whatever she asked of him, and more!
When at last she tucked her wings in and dove, like a shooting star above the ocean, Duareth bellowed his delight, and his acceptance of her challenge. Leveling off, he hung suspended for only a moment before he let gravity take him. His own weight pulled him inexorably towards the earth, where the sun glinted off the turquoise waves and dappled them with gold. He felt unstoppable, fast and powerful and mighty as his momentum increased and he fell back to earth after Nikianeth. Though he kept nearby, and made sure that the lovely orange was always in his view, he was careful not to crowd her. He took care to give her the space she needed to choose; for her choice would surely come soon.
Though for all intents and purposes S'rial was high above the ocean with his dragon, he was dimly aware of Armania appearing at the door to her weyr. Of course he felt an impulse to reach out and take her in his arms, but his own self-control quashed the notion. He merely gazed at her, basking in her beauty as Duareth relished Nikianeth's, and struggled to keep his emotions in check. Soon enough, one of these men before her door would be hers; until then, there was nothing to do but wait, and to give all his strength and help to his brown who was still fighting valiantly for the orange's affections.
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Post by jack on Dec 21, 2009 23:49:40 GMT -5
While B'rak was wandering deep into the weyr--searching out his favorite Blue rider--Shoth's eyes were glued on Niki. Now in the air, his wings stretched wide and his body gleaming with the sheem a Bronze should have, the only thing on his mind was her...only her. The other competitors fell away in his mind, their size and colors nothing but a blur to him as he pushed himself further, soaring effortlessly in time with that beauty.
Muscles flexed and contracted in perfect unison as the creature sailed through the air, his wings flashing as they reflected the light around him. He took an easy place near Valleth, a powerful thrust of his wings sending him a neck ahead of him and closer to Her. But he would not dare cross into her space, nor did he have any intention of doing so. She was the Queen in the skies now--the world and the choice of who entered it was hers.
Up and up the Orange went, and so up and up went Shoth. Legs tucked carefully against his belly, his neck stretched out and eyes whirling with odd peace, he looked very little like himself as he pumped his wings and soared after her. Quiet, nearly soundless in his flight, he did nothing but broadcast feelings of interest and intrigue, filling her head with his own knowledge of just how beautiful--how strong and flawless--she really was. Very softly, he crooned, the trumpet-like sound echoing longer than it should be able before he lapsed into quiet once more. There was no need for him to holler and howl like a drooling dog at her heels--he would let her know just how suitable he was for her by actions. She had called for fliers! For winged suitors who knew the air and would pursue hard and long enough that their wings would ache! He would show her, he would show her that he would be just that dragon!
That beautiful queen of an Orange turned in the air and dove like a rocket, and Shoth slid into a barrel roll, spiraling after her. With the ease of a ballet dancer he controlled the drastic move, his smaller body giving him the agility of a fighter even while his bulk gave him the endurance required to chase Queens. With a flex of his wings he stopped his spiral and clamped his wings tight against his body. Like an arrow he shot down, catching up with that stunning gem stubbornly. He wouldn't let her escape, wouldn't let her fly too far from his claws. No matter how far or how fast, Shoth would pursue. Pursue that which shone like a fire in the sky!
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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 Dec 22, 2009 1:17:14 GMT -5
The flight led Yusriyath and the other males upward, so it was upward that the Purple unwaveringly went. They past the tallest trees, birds, and clouds, and Nikianeth did not strike him from the sky. She flew, taunted, and sized up her suitors all at once, no task impeding the other. Each flap of her wings, twist of her neck, bat of the eye was done with the utmost grace. Though she could turn her attention back to her sky when she was done with them, Yusriyath could not tear his eyes from her.
He crooned sweetly to her when she turned her head and graced them with her glance, knowing that it might prove as equally harmful or helpful to his cause. She only studied him, however, before glancing at the next. Her eyes were even more captivating than her body, and they made Ysriyath’s heart beat in a funny way. While he was in her sights he sang his heart to her a twisted showily with easy agile grace. His body was built for speed and was capable of the trickiest maneuvers. He would not try to win her with a show of brute force, for the emotions that he felt were sweet and tender, not bellicose and brutish.
Yusriyath was pleased too that none of the other followers attacked him. Like he, they were too dazzled by the beautiful Queen before them. There was another Purple, a Brown, and two Bronzes that were his sworn rivals in this emotional game. The older but smaller Bronze did show some initial hostility, but he was eventually calmed. Even with that threat of danger Yusriyath could not dwell on such petty things as other dragons for long. There may has well have been only one other dragon in the sky, for she was the only one he saw.
Yusriyath flapped his wings faster as they got higher, relishing in the shortness of air, the moisture of the clouds he tore through, and the stark clearness of the sky above the cloud line. It was perfect here: Nikianeth glowed like Rubkat with no other objects or living creatures to pull focus from her. And there, at the top of her flight, Niki let out a harmonious bugle to all that followed her- all that dared. Latecomers? No dragon that had heard her call and hesitated for an instant deserved to have her! The idea made Yusriyath want to hiss. Instead, he let out a melodic bugle of his own in immediate answer and snapped his wings against his body. It means I adore you, I want you, I love you, I hope that I deserve you,[/color] Yu thought as he plummeted downward. He fell so that he was close to her and she could hear his song whistle in the raging wind as they plummeted towards the ground. [/size]
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Post by kia on Dec 23, 2009 0:10:35 GMT -5
Nikianeth dove straight down, toward the oceans, wings and legs tucked in tightly as the air blew past her. The air screamed in her ears or whatever dragons used to hear with. The wind was a mix of cool air mixing with the heated, salt air rising from the oceans. Water wherries squawk with fear as they escaped the initial path that the Orange was set on. As for Nikianeth, the Orange did not care who or what was in her path, unless it was another Queen or sub-Queen. But, if there had been another, they would have been in the sky already. But there was no other. It was only her. Only her and the males that Chased.
They were still following her, very closely, and they were all trying their hardest to impress her with their skills, intelligence, and their songs/praises of beauty and love. The praises were not falling on deaf ears and thoughts, and Nikianeth truly did appreciate them. She crooned with pleasure, her eyes flickering soft colors of green to show how it pleased her. But, she was not a fool of a dragon. She knew that no matter what male she chose, they would always be tempted to chase after some other female and they would do so happily. She snorted with the thought. Well, at least they were hers for the moment, even if that moment was almost over. This dive was her final move, her final decision.
She felt her Mine struggling inwardly with herself. The Flight was starting to take its toll on the young woman who had never been through this before. Nikianeth understood. This was her Flight, too, but this feeling of flying felt so natural. She wanted to keep going, but the strength in her wings was starting to get weaker and weaker. There were aches and pains as she opened her wings to start slowing down. The wind, fighting against her wings, seemed to want to push her toward the males. Not just yet. Just a little longer. She watched them as they got closer and closer to her, using the dive to their advantages to take them a step closer. The ocean was getting closer.
She arched her neck, wings flaring out, catching the sea breeze and gliding across the water. She tilted her wings and subtly started turning back toward the Weyr. The males were watching her, waiting for her to make her decision. The purple started to slowly disappear from Nikianeth`s eyes. She reached her mind out toward her Mine, Armania. She felt the woman give a sharp flinch, realizing that her dragon was warning her that the end was coming. Nia smiled, mentally and physically, sending a wave of emotion of love to the Orange. The Orange crooned and flapped her wings, slowing her down as she began to make her way toward the males. She crooned to them all, as if thanking them for participating in this Flight.
She looked at Yusriyath carefully before pulling away from him. She might have chosen him, but the stink of Alizadehth still hung on him and she would not have that. Maybe if he had not had that stink on him, she might have chosen him. And, then there was Shoth. He was very close by, but she moved away from him as well. There would be other times, and she would not shun him from further Flights. He would always have a chance with her. As for Valleth, she felt he was too young, letting his desires take him faster. She crooned a special message to him, telling him to get bigger and stronger for the next time. As for Kerath, he was special too, but his Mine and her Mine had barely met and she would have preferred to have known him better. She moved closer to Duareth and crooned to him lovingly. Duareth, she said to him, pronouncing him her winner.
Nia felt a huge wave of emotion hit her once Nikianeth pronounced her winner. Hands, feet, lips, and body went forward in search of the Rider of Nikianeth`s winner. Her mind was trying to come up with the name of the Rider whose Brown had won this Flight. She found someone, mouth closing in on their lips, hands moving. The name came to her. S`rial, Rider of Brown Duareth and CandidateMaster of Dalibor Weyr. She let out a sigh, but she was not sure it was mentally or physically. It could have been worse as some conscious thought returned for a moment. Not that Nikianeth would have cared, but if she had chosen Shoth, who would have helped Nia? But, that was a thought for another time as Nikianeth made her descent with her new weyrmate.
(( Here is in order of who was closer than whom in this Flight: 1. Duareth 2. Yusriyath 3. Shoth 4. Valleth 5. Kerath There you go! ))
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Admin
Administrator
brect[M:-2154]
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Post by Admin on Dec 24, 2009 18:09:22 GMT -5
And the answer that you're seeking, For the question that you found, Drives you further to confusion, As you lose your sense of ground.
The dive ended, and Kerath continued after her, continuing to dance after her, having no intention of stopping. He paid only a small heed to her glances and her looks. They only made his tiring wings feel lighter and his heart pound all the faster to keep ichor pumping quickly through his veins. He flew on, wings never stopping. She slowed. He ran wide, darting in and back, weaving, not slowing but keeping an odd pace. She begin to loop back and he swiftly followed, arching his wings out wide and shifting his shoulder to catch an opposing wind to push him after her with greater ease. Never would he stop! Never did they need to stop! Faster, slower, to the Weyr and to nowhere and back again! He would go on, after her. He still dreamed, and he flew oblivious to all else. His eyes only saw her, only her and all of her orange beauty.
But then another dive came, and he was not a part of it. Her calling out to Duareth hit him like a ton of bricks, like colliding with a fully grown gold in the air though he'd never done that. He no longer felt like he needed to have such an experience. It was crushing, heart wrenching. He had one last glimpse of her, and then she was gone, and he couldn't turn himself to see her again. Desperately, he clung to the image, the final picture of her that he was allowed to have, but it slipped from his grasp. Reality slipped back over him, and he knew he had lost. He accepted it, but it hurt, a sense of the loss washing over him. Tiredness sunk out his wings. Suddenly, he was exhausted. The lightness that he had felt faded and left him with the truth of how he was. No more dreams. No more ideals. No more hopes. At least then, none of those things were left alive.
Kerath dived himself, but not with Duareth and Nikianeth. He dropped from the air, and then deftly swept back towards the Weyr. The motion felt dead to him. She had chosen someone that wasn't him, and the flight was over. He could have flown longer, quicker, better! He accepted her choice, but he felt disappointed in himself. Doubts clouded his mind as he sank back towards the Weyr, too tired to between across the distance, the danger too great with his mind unfocused. He wasn't too tired, anyway, so he could still fly. The endurance was out of him, and all he did was suddenly sloppier as adrenaline fled. He would always be able to fly, though; he would always be able to fly on just a little bit more. But that hadn't been enough. Drawing in a breathe of sweet spring air, he dipped into the bowl, almost clipping the rim as he went.
W'al left Nia to S'rial numbly. The emotions weren't so quick to flee, and they hurt. He made his way back to his weyr without a thought. He stood out on the ledge, waiting for Kerath. The purple landed heavily beside him. It was natural for them to take the blow hard. They had been invested, emotionally involved in the flight, together, as a pair. They leaned into each other, letting the exhaustion of the flight overwhelm them. They hadn't know Nia or Nikianeth well, but they had cared in the flight. They had been serious. In their own lighthearted ways, they had been serious. They had put in the effort, beyond their playfulness, so much had been put into the flight, and it hurt after losing. It was a dull ache, some mix of the true exhaustion and the sheer feeling of loss that made the exhaustion, not so bad, feel all the worse, all the deeper.
However, then W'al grinned, looking up into the slowly swirling eyes of his long purple. The disappoint could be set aside. They would bounce back. The moments of self doubt began to fade, and it got better. Their investment began to seem sound again, their abilities becoming clear to themselves. They could bounce back, unharmed, a little tired but no worse for wear. Straightening a bit, Kerath looked back at him, and his lips curled in a draconic grin of his own. Oh, Nikianeth had been beautiful, so beautiful, but he had had his rider and the feelings faded. She had Duareth and she would be happy and that was good. He felt better. It didn't matter. Well, it did, but he had tried his hardest and there was nothing he could do. He and what he had of the sky had tried their best, and there wasn't anything he could. He still had his. That was good.
They didn't speak, but Kerath felt alright, happy enough, as he moved to collapse into his couch to sleep. He tucked his long wings carefully against his back. They had served him well, and they needed to rest. He fell asleep, tiredness taking over all else, as soon as soon as his nose touched his tail as he curled up into a comfortable position. He went out heavily, and, then, finally, dreams returned to him, flickering back into his simple, sleeping mind to be found again in the morning. It would all be fine in the morning. Both of them knew that. Wavering, feelings like those of a dream still lingering, out of place in him, W'al swayed off to his furs to sleep, alone, by himself. He fell asleep a little slower, not actually exhausted even if he felt like he should have been. Losing hurt. Even when one didn't care, it hurt. Why did it have to be like that?
So don't forget to breathe, Don't forget to breathe, Your whole life is here, No eleventh hour reprieve.
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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 Dec 25, 2009 15:54:49 GMT -5
Yusriyath fell without a second thought after the elusive Queen of his dreams. Only when she snapped out her wings and pulled up to skim along the ocean did he follow suite, cutting through the air and spray above the water like a knife. She was so close! She seemed to hesitate though- Yusriyath could sense it. The end would not be long in coming.
It was untraditional that Nikaineth slowed and whirled to face them, considering them each as she hovered in front of them before choosing her mate. Nothing she could have done would have seemed unorthodox to Yu, though. Today Nikaineth could only do right. His heart fluttered as she crooned to them and then looked at him carefully. Was it him that she wanted?
Alas, no. Her eyes lingered on him momentarily before carrying on down the line. Yusriyath keened sadly as she tangled with the Brown. Feeling rather deflated, he turned and betweened to where His stood in a bit of a stupor. Y’nis was standing at the very edge of the woods by the Weyr. Had anyone been looking for him they probably would have been able to pick him out, but no one was alert to his uncanny presence. Some uncharacteristic surge of self-restraint had kept him from stumbling after the other men into Nia’s weyr. If Yu had won he would have run to her, but fortunately he had not had cause to run. The outcome could have been very bad for him: Dalibor was not very fond of the renegades.
YuMine…. YaMine. Y’nis reached up and stroked Yusriyath’s muzzle when the Purple landed beside him, seeming quite deflated. I always lose, Yusriyath said sadly. No, no. You’re a winner. You’re perfect, Y’nis consoled him, pressing his forehead against Yu’s jaw. None of these females have been smart enough to pick you. They don’t know what they’re missing. But as long as I’ve got you all to myself let’s get out of here, okay love? Yusriyath agreed, beginning to bounce back already. It was not in his nature to stay down. He crooned lovingly as Y’nis hopped shakily on his back and they took off. Ah, and Yu…. We might want to steer clear of Alizadehth for a while.
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