Reach For The Stars {Feast!}

[Admin]

We write a thousand pages,
They're torn and on the floor,
Headlights hammer the windows,
We're locked behind these doors.

The solid but also furious presence of O'sho beside her, his arm left in her grip, soothed Fajra more than she was likely to ever go about admitting. Nim was quick to come and she sized up the young rider with quick eyes. Zucherroth could find Osro, but how could he go about doing that? She didn't waver. She just thought it over. If she stopped thinking, everything would fall apart. How were they going to proceed? Rationalizing the situation took effort in that moment, but she did it. Right then, rationalizing was more important than plenty of moments where she had chosen to rationalize in her life. The tense calmness that plagued her screamed death. She knew Zucherroth could find her son, but how could he do that? Her head gave a dull ache, screaming of emotional pain, but she ignored it. She simply blinked in response.

"I need you to find him. It's as simple as that;" she told Anima in a tight voice, looking at the younger woman. "Go get ready. Figure it out." She knew she was demanding simply results, offering nothing else. She would have liked to have done more, to have been able to offer something, but she had nothing to offer. She had to save her son, and she couldn't do it herself. She felt useful and tattered, so she clung to what she had, as she always had done. With a nod that was mostly to herself, her eyes turned away from the whiterider, the only whiterider at Dalibor, the only rider of white Zucherroth the eerily perceptive, so she could scan the hall. A blind white and his young rider couldn't be allowed to go out on a hunt themselves, but there were so many logistics she had to factor. It was about more than her son, to her fury.

Fajra, while a Weyrwoman and not a Weyrleader, had an excellent mind for war. Thread wasn't her specialty. She would concede that. However, when it came to the tactics of a true battle, she could manage just fine. It wasn't the most useful skill to have in their world, in a world where dragons weren't supposed to fight dragons and people feared thread, but she had it. They needed people to stay back. The Weyr had been breached, and it had to be defended. She had to stay. O'sho had to stay. They need their wingleaders, and most of their wings. How many renegades were there? It was impossible to know for sure. Varya. D'ror. A blackrider. An ironrider. They didn't have a King to spare, not in terms to match an iron, and she didn't wish to think too much of that. Who could run a solid formation, and keep up with Zucherroth?

"L'can, A'kai, J'men, R'ori, O'ris, D'lee, A'toki, Marae, R'hon! Be in full riding gear and out in the bowl now;" she ordered, drawing out the names without a question. One wingsecond, two mature but less active brownriders, two greenriders, a cyanrider, a blackrider, and two blueriders would work well. After a decisive nod, finding nodding to be soothing since it hinted at affirmation, she finally truly look at O'sho. She realized she was holding her arm and slowly released it, withdrawing her hand awkwardly. Despite that, and the ever burning knowledge of the knot twisting in her stomach along with a fiery fury she was trying to work over, she didn't slump. Giving a stiff jerk of her head, words failing her, to tell him to go watch the team with a look to tell him he wasn't to go with them, she turned and marched off. She needed to change.

I won't forget this. I won't forget.
Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
Your eyes see right through me.
Let the walls have their say.

[xena2009]

Arsana and Vhreth

Arsana walked into the room. She was dressed in one of her favorite skirt and blouse outfits she'd bought last turn. She had left her hair down this time. She was only a few minutes late and was excited to see the new Weyrlings. She had thoroughly enjoyed the Hatching. She looked around, observing everyone interacting. A drudge passed with a tray of wine. She snatched a cup as the drudge passed by. She took a sip and smiled. A good turn of wine.

She walked around the room, smiling and waving at a few of the Riders assembled that she knew. She took a sip of her wine when she saw the Weyrwoman, Fajra, enter the room again. And she didn't relish the look on the Weyrwoman's face. Something, or someone, had really, really pissed her off. Out side she could hear the roaring. Vhreth?! What is going on?

The Weyrwoman's hatchling is missing! vhreth roared in anger. The roar was loud and fierce, draining to a screech. We will help! The last was sent to Kalith.

Arsana nodded her head in agreement with her beloved orange lifemate. She quickly walked over to where O'sho and Fajra stood. "I will help in any way I can, Weyrwoman, Weyrleader," Arsana spoke with sincerity and conviction. Her eyes had a hard glint in them. "In any way Vhreth and I can."

Xarca

Xarca had decided to go to the Feast. She wanted to give the new Weyrlings her congratulations. She was in her best dress, a beautiful dark slate gray with black trim. She walked in and stood there for a moment, wondering what to do now. Would they laugh at her for not impressing, yet again? She still couldn't decide when she heard, "Where, in Faranth's name, is my son!"

Xarca looked up and saw Weyrwoman Fajra up on at the high table. And she looked pissed! Her son? Her son was missing? Shards. She didn't know what to think. Suddenly, there was a pink blurr. Spirit flew onto her right padded shoulder, chirping and squeeling. "Spirit! Calm yourself, now!"

"F'del, W'al, S'rial, Savrent, all weyrlings and candidates are to be in the barracks"

"Oh, shard it." She looked around and spotted an alcove. She hurried to it and waited for a moment. "Spirit! Stop it you little ... Spirit, stop making a ruckus." She felt like giving up completely, on everything.

[kia]

If this had been another day on better terms, Lio might have actually enjoyed this Hatching feast. But, rather, his head hung low, his eyes occasionally looking up over in a certain direction, making sure he was not being noticed by the one he was publicly spying on. He saw happy P`nay in the distance, just his lovable self. Lio felt torn on the inside. He was happy for P`nay and R`ish, but where did that leave him? A third wheel again to use the earth expression. He sighed and grabbed a second cup of wine that he had managed to convince the kitchen drudges to bring to him. He would get drunk tonight. Dead drunk, go to bed, sleep tomorrow away, wake up, and see what happened. But, what if he was still depressed? He felt his heart leap into his throat. He should have seen it from the beginning. He would have never made it. At least he was a Wingsecond, temporary Wingleader until his Wing had a new leader, which would be soon, he hoped. But he trusted O`sho. The man had never steered them wrong.

The Weyrwoman`s shouts rang louder in his already tipsy head. He looked up as he heard his name being called. So, the woman`s son had been kidnapped, and they were going to follow and protect Anima and Zucherroth. He seemed to grin at the idea. Work! What a better way to get drunk was to drown in work! He stood up and nodded to the Weyrwoman. "All right, you heard the Weyrwoman! I want to see you in the bowl now!" he shouted, his words slightly slurred with beginnings of being drunk swimming in his mind. But he could still think. He reached over and ruffled O`ris` hair. "Come on, boy, you can talk to your girl later," he said, catching O`ris as the young man was trying to enter the dining hall. O`ris seemed to blush slightly and sighed as he got the message from Rhyolith, who was being relayed by Mikidith.

Mikidith bugled, letting the dragons he was to take with him know to get their arses down to the bowl now. Lio walked down to the bowl, his gear on and ready, and looked around as others began to show. O`ris was still adjusting Rhyolith`s straps. Where in Pern was R`iori and his pretty little Green? He climbed onto Mikdith`s back. Now they had to wait for Anima and Zucherroth to arrive before they could get going. But he doubted they would be long.

[Lan]

Nimara had not attended the joyous Hatching celebration, or at least not stayed long enough to see anything good. She had made sure the Weyrwoman saw her, to be sure, but she had not been in the mood for lighthearted niceties and cheery dispositions. Smiling faces and ringing laughter would only be a bane to her consciousness... and would remind her that her life had not quite been in sorts for the past several months.

While Waroth had, thank Faranth, not risen again during the past two turns at the Weyr, she had been particularly difficult to deal with after the initial Gather to celebrate the opening of Crescent Hold. It seemed that such merriment and ability to be on her own had upset her life partner, and the dangerous red beauty had since then become very possessive of Her Own. As angry and restless as a proddy green, the violent crimson beast had growled at anyone that so much as looked at her rider, much more anyone who had the gall to try to TALK to Nimara. This made even the simplest of Nim's duties difficult to manage, particularly that of appearing pleasant at a Hatching Celebration: where she would be expected to converse with many of the Weyr's guests and residents. Even her usual pleasantry of being able to talk soothingly to the candidates was shirked, in favor of stilling Waroth's infernal rage to keep the guests from being frightened.

'Quiet yourself, my love,' Nim whispered, her head resting against the fiery crown of Waroth's as she attempted with her small body mass to hold the swaying dragon still. 'They are just hear to see the hatching and Kalith and the Weyrwoman Fajra... they are not here to take me away from you.' But Waroth was not to be placated. While she stopped swaying so restlessly, she snorted with contempt and layed her head between her forelegs. Her multi-faceted eyes whirling slowed from a distressed orange to the slight alarm of yellow, with hints of greys and greens mixed in. 'There, there,' Nimara nestled herself within the confines of Waroth's strong forelegs, with her torso and face propped up against her beloved's large ruby-colored head, 'Was that so hard?'

'I'm still not happy,' Waroth said definitively, as if there could be any debating that topic. But, as she felt the presence of Her Own so intimately near her, she calmed down to where her eyes had returned to an apathetic blue. 'But you are here with me now. And you shall not leave me... right?' Nim knew Waroth well enough to deduct that what was a question was meant as a command. She sighed and buried her face tight against her beautiful dragon's thick, musty hide.

'I shall NEVER leave you, my love.' Her mind projected the words with great strength of affection and adoration. 'How many times must I tell you that before you will believe me?'

'Many, many more times for me to be certain,' Waroth teased, although it was an ultimately true statement. She hummed pleasantly in a thick voice that began at her stomach and resonated all the way up her thick throat, tickling her rider who was leaning against her. Nim laughed pleasantly. Times like these, she thought, were the best part about being a rider. When Waroth was calmed and happy, Nim knew she had someone who loved her so intensely that she would never be alone again. At times she was a bit sad of this, missing the moments when she could be alone in her thoughts when running traces, but all in all she was most incredibly happy with having a life-long partner that knew her innermost thoughts without even trying.

Alas, her pleasant moment was broken my Waroth raising her head in alarm and the bugles of dragons, upset and blood-thirsty. She jerked up to her feet, keeping a solemn hand on Waroth's leg as she looked out to the place where feasting and merriment were supposed to be commencing.

'They may not have stolen you away... but they took someone else.' Waroth rose to her feet quickly and growled at her rider to mount quickly. Nim followed the direction, quickly tying Waroth's riding saddle and adorning riding gear before striding to the great red dragon's back. Although too slow for Waroth's taste, she didn't complain and when she felt Nim's familiar weight on her back she pounced quickly into the sky, landing close to the dining hall a mere moment later. She all but leaped off of Waroth's back, hitting the ground already at a spring and looking for someone who could tell her what was going on. She knew better than to ask Waroth, who was unable to name anyone else but her.

Amongst the chaos of riders going to adorn riding gear and dragons taking off and everyone in a panic, Nim kept a cool head and, weaving her way through many tangled bodies of one large alarmed organism, she found O'sho, Weyrleader of Dalibor. Surely he would know what was going on. But, before she could get to him, she heard already from the shouts what had happened. Osro had been missing. The name was familiar to her... wasn't that... Fajra's son? Shards. Her pace quickened to get to the Weyrleader. While she knew it would be an impertinence to bother him, and that she probably couldn't help, if she didn't do anything useful the suspense was going to kill her. Fajra had not only been her Weyrwoman, but also her Wingleader... and she was somewhat partial to the only other red-headed woman that had been there during her first few days.

'Let me do something,' She asked O'sho when she had finally reached him, in a quiet voice that was barely audible above the chaos. 'I don't know what I can do, but I want to help.'

---

'Shards!' C'lin was risen from sleep by an anxious Reyith, who was projecting very agitating images into his head. He had just drifted off into slumberland after attending the Hatching, as proscribed by his station, and he had been expecting to not wake up until the wee hours of the next morning. He had not been feeling well. Rather, he had been feeling horrible. It seemed, with all the hustle and bustle, that no one had time for old C'lin anymore. And that left him, roughly, depressed and upset... and tired most of the time. He had been sleeping a lot more lately, to the point where he would rather be napping than eating. That was a rare thing for C'lin, who enjoyed eating almost as much as he enjoyed flirting with anyone and everyone who would pay him half a mind of attention. Alas, no one was paying him attention currently, and he doubted he get any attention on the feasting celebrations. So he had snuck out when the time was appropriate without anyone seeing him. At least in his dreams, he thought, he might have a bit of fun.

But now what filled his mind was far more disturbing than any melodramatic ideas he had previously gotten into his head. A joyous feast gone sour by the disappearance of... who it was he couldn't rightfully say. The images were too distorted. Yet, just as he thought that, the image of Fajra popped into his head. Fajra missing? No... that couldn't be. Suddenly the stern countenance of O'sho again filled his thoughts. O'sho and Fajra...? He was too tired for these guessing games. With a groan he sprouted from his furs, crossing the room to pull on the shirt he had shucked off seemingly moments before. After quickly grabbing his riding gear, as instructed by the non-vocal black dragon, he fitted a saddle onto his dear friend and climbed on.

'Now... what happened?' He asked telepathically as he yawned. Reyith had not yet moved, obviously concentrating on something other than the present. There was no communication from Reyith for a while, until suddenly an entirely new wave of images flooded his mind. Dragons leaving the bowl, searching for whomever it was that was missing, and Fajra furious and O'sho upset and... well, everything else was confusing, but he got the gist of it. 'Their kid? Osro's missing?' He asked his partner, resting his head against the back of Reyith's slender black neck to nurse his headache from the intense wave of images. A soothing apologetic feeling flowed between the gentle black beast and himself, along with an affirmative to his inference.

'Shards and shells,' C'lin muttered with frustration, sitting upright in the saddle as he pat Reyith on the back of the neck to signal that he was awake enough to ride now. He felt his partner give a hum of affection before jumping off of the ledge of their personal weyr and making the short hop to the dining hall where the festivities had recently been broken up by the tense, possibly war-starting incident that had just occurred. C'lin sighed. It was bad enough knowing that he wasn't going to have any fun at such a joyous occasion... but no one else having any fun too? He was half disheartened, and half glad that he wasn't the only one suffering. He felt a bit guilty about the last part, but he couldn't deny feeling that way.

He slipped off of Reyith's back into a sea of confusion and, to some extent, despair. The wingrider quickly jumped out of the way of those streaming past him as he made his way into the decorated dining hall, all the while trying in vain to get someone to tell him what actions were being taken and where he might be needed. No one, absolutely no one, paid him any mind as they rushed by acting as one organism that couldn't be bothered with the puny likes of the blackrider. He grumbled inaudible curses beneath his breath. This was really getting frustrating. Wasn't there anyone on this shell-forsaken piece of rock that could tell him what was going on? He felt like he might as well be a bug on the wall.

Amidst the hustle and bustle C'lin thought for a moment he saw P'nay, which only made his mood worse. The memories of that time they spent at the gather at Crescent Hold were of a bittersweet nature. First of all, he had ignored P'nay since that day, practically dropped off the face of Pern. And, as a result, P'nay was now with some proddy pinkrider... what was his name again? R'ash? He didn't care to figure it out. All that mattered was that P'nay was not with him. He wasn't sure why this bothered him. After all, it was him that had not continued the relationship. And he wouldn't have been the publicly affectionate lover that P'nay wanted. But it did bothered him. That was what counted. And he was going to hold onto that grudge for as long as possible. For all he knew this pinkrider could have been a great person... but for the moment he considered him an enemy.

Soothing waves from Reyith soon calmed his frustrations as he backed against a wall to keep from being pushed around by the crowd. He closed his eyes, bowing his chin deep into his chest and heaving a sigh. 'I love you.' The words resounded strongly in his mind and in his very heart and soul. Reyith, while being a dragon of few words, always knew the right thing to say or do when dealing with C'lin. If any rider and dragon were destined to be together, it was this black dragon and his rider. Without the other, neither could stand. They had become a whole entity during their years together, to the point where their identities had become intertwined to the point where no one could tell where C'lin ended and Reyith began, and visa versa. It was a beautiful thing... if only C'lin wasn't so messed up and Reyith wasn't so quiet.

C'lin opened his eyes and, standing to his full height, looked over the heads of those surrounding him to try to identify someone who could tell him what to do. There wasn't much of a precedent for Weyr kidnappings, so following protocol at this point was out of the question.

[Kila]

O’sho stood by silent and strong as Fajra gathered herself and gave out orders. Nim had come quickly, Faranath bless her. The orders she was given were short, nondescript, and not very helpful, but there was nothing else that the Weyrleaders could do or say just then. It was Nim who they needed to do things- to work her magic. They knew that she and Zucherroth could find Osro, but they did not know how. Instincts? Faith? Proven ability? Regardless, the short orders were all that they could give her.

In his head, O’sho approved of the riders that Fajra called out. She was wise in her choice- she had not sent out their Kings or Wingleaders that they might need in the event of a conflict. Even still, Nim and Zucherroth would be well-protected and backed. He stared forward, his mind racing, but he slowly turned his head when he felt her eyes on him. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time since entering in the room. Self-conscious, she awkwardly pulled her hand back from his arm, though he hardly registered it. He understood her nod, yet another of their wordless cues and communications, and nodded back in affirmation. Yes, he would go supervise the impromptu wing gear up and assemble. He looked to the door that lead out as she turned and marched out.

Before he could go, two women approached him, concerned and anguished. Both Arsana and Nimara offered to help- wanted to help. Wanted to do anything. He forced himself to focus, to be in the there and the present. ”Arsana, Nimara…. Thank you. Forgive me for my absent mind. Yes, I could use both of your help. We need you here in the Weyr, so you cannot go with the others. If you and Yours would both go stand watch on the cliffs it would be a tremendous help. I am touched and deeply endebted to you for your help,” he said, bowing to the two women. He came down from the high table and took their hands. ”But please, stay away from Kalith. It would not be safe for you to interact with her right now.” He forced a smile, which was an obvious difference, and walked purposefully out into the Bowl.

[Lan]

Nimara paused at O'sho's words, and acknowledged the presence of the orangerider. She nodded respectfully, then looked again to the Weyrleader for their instructions. The redrider was slightly embarrassed that she had not noticed Arsana's presence before. Then again, there was much chaos around in the dining hall. She had only focused on O'sho's strong, commanding form, using him as an bright island in a dark sea to direct her movements. It was no wonder she hadn't noticed Arsana, who had arrived merely seconds before she had. Satisfied with this conclusion, she clung to the words of the Weyrleader as they came. She really wanted to help. Osro having gone missing was a terrible thing, and she would do anything she could. Even if it meant having numbweed duty.

Stand watch at the cliffs... Nim almost jumped immediately to move to her station, but he was not finished. After he bowed she once again moved to turn, but found her hand encompassed by O'sho's own, strong, rough ones. Again she paused, looking into his eyes that she had never really had the gall to look into before. They were an interesting grey, mixed with hues of blue and green, but right now they were troubled. She looked at him with no reaction on her face, her thoughts not showing by even the merest twitch of her countenance. It was during these times that Nim shined as being logical, practical, and strong in willpower and responsibility. So why was she noticing such things now, of any other moment? She swallowed, nodded. Stay away from Kalith... got it. It made sense. The copper queen would be in a rage right now, and rightfully so.

Her hand was dropped a moment after that speech, and action followed by O'sho with a forced smile and a solemn walk toward the bowl. It took the redhead a moment to regain her usual composure, filled with sympathy and distraught for the Weyrleader who was now experiencing the kidnapping of his son. It was any parent's greatest fear, so Nim had observed, and she truly felt for him. However, there was work to be done. She took to her feet with the agility and speed of her runner days and quickly made her way to the bowl where Waroth had been waiting impatiently for her.

'I was calling you... didn't you hear me?!' Waroth cried plaintively when Nimara had fitted herself into the saddle. She took to the air quickly, beating strong wings with such voracity that Nim could feel the intense movements of strong, sinewy muscles beneath the read dragoness' thick crimson hide. She didn't respond to Waroth, instead giving her coordinates to the place where they were meant to stand watch in the bowl. Her lovely beast was not at all pleased with not having her complaints answered, and she hovered a moment before moving to where Her Own had instructed her to go.

'Didn't you hear me?' While angry in tone, the voice was also full of fear and sadness. Nim took a breath, still caught in the moment of the incident and needing to be of service and doing her duty to the Weyr, and quickly replied both aloud and in her mind.

'No... I didn't. Please take us where we need to go... Now.' Waroth, stunned at a tone her rider had never used with her before, quieted instantly and then took them to the rim where they were to stand watch. Nim was frustrated and confused. She didn't know why she hadn't heard Waroth. It had never happened before. And, while she felt bad, at the same time she wasn't in the mood to deal with Waroth's irritation humor. She'd apologize later. In the meantime she would have some peace to be in her thoughts and do her job -currently her only comfort.

[fidelli]

She couldn't seem to catch her breath, and her heart wouldn't stop beating. You never take into account a heart rate until its pounding in your ears, not leaving you be. She swallowed, hard, and tried to stop her fingers from shaking by clenching them into fists. It wasn't all fear - it was anger too, anger roiling in the pit of her stomach. She had been a young child once - they all had, but she had been a young child about to be handed over by no will of her own. She understood Orso's predicament slightly, and she wanted to rip something apart, to hit something, to take the emotions she couldn't stop broiling around in her head out on SOMEBODY. Thankfully, she had something else. Mine, breath. It is alright. We can fix this.

Thank Faranth for Zucherroth. She tried to breath, slowly down and focusing on the steady inhale and exhale, and by the time she made it to the Weyrleader's, she was better. The Weyrwoman's eyes met her, and she tried to stand tall beneath them even though she felt ridiculous. She hated dresses, and this would be the last time A'mor would ever torture her into one. The. Worst. Night. Ever. 'I need you to find him. It's as simple as that.' Admittedly, it was a stupid question. Only she and Zucherroth knew the extent of his seeing, and even then, she and him had never really tested it. They had been so busy working on passing Weyrlinghood and being just as good as any rider, she had not spent the adequate amount of time on the strange abilities her White possessed. But that wasn't fair, and her face hardened at the Weyrwoman's clipped response. Simple as that! 'Go get ready. Figure it out.' Her face twisted in anger, her mouth opened to argue - but she had something that stopped her.

Mine! Hush. She is afraid. Kalith and her are oozing fear and pain. Tell her it will be alright, and we will fix it. Zuchie had never stirred her wrong before... "It will be alright, Weyrwoman. Me'n Zuchie will find him." It was harder than she thought, being strong. Putting a strong face on for the rest of the people, as she gave a short bow and turned on her heel and strode out of the dining hall, when all she wanted to do was break into a run, fling herself on Zuchie, and fly far far away. But there was something else - she had met the young child, once. It had not been for long, but on one of his escaping moments he had almost run by her. She had caught him purely out of reflex, and returned him to the nurse chasing him, but... He had smiled, laughed, and been so happy. Determination and anger filled her, a warm and cold shiver that slipped down her spine and made the young woman stand straighter.

They could do this.

Zucherroth had ignored the other dragons and slipped down to the bowl floor, so as she walked out she could throw herself on him and he could gently spiral up the Weyr. Aren was sulking there (she was quite upset she could not join the party) but Nim had left her there partly as a guide as well. Zucherroth landed with her as his reference point, and Nim tumbled from him, quickly grabbing the clothing that A'mor had gotten for her and tugging it on. As she did, ripping herself out of the dress, she spoke to the White greeting the happily dancing dog. Zuchie, how are we going to do this? She wailed to him, and the White shifted his head to look at her. I do not know... For the first time, he sounded almost insecure, and she stopped her tugging of a boot to sooth him.

"I mean, we can do it, of course. I just... I mean, how?" The White was never one to be weary for long, and he settled down, looking at her with sightless eyes. I am not like other dragons. Nim hurriedly opened her mouth to argue with him, but the sweet little White gently declined her words. I am not. I am not able to see, and others can. But I see the living things around me, yes? In my mind... Nim knelt next to his head, frowning. "You see them like... Through their emotions, their minds. But you don't see images." Zucherroth agreed with this, still thinking. I am sure I can find him if I can find his mind... His emotions would be strong, yes?

An impatient bugle from outside made Nim start, looking up from where she had been concentrating on the very pale yellow patch that Zuchie had on his paw absently, and shook her head. "Keep thinking about it." She hurried to get his straps on him, thanking F'del for the time and time he had made them put into them. She could at least stand infront of riders and look presentable. Zuchie was oddly quiet, but she let him think as she directed him to the... Zuchie. Why in Faranth's great oversized waste is there so many dragons out there. That's a sharding full sized WING. The White landed infront of them and to the side, mind still absent. Kalith's decided to give us a guard. It is a clever idea - we are very small, even together.

Nim didn't have time to panic. She just gripped her straps tighter and wove her fingers around the leather, focusing on Zuchie and sending Glomp away when the Bronze decided to pop in. Now was not the time - he could go sulk with canine in their Weyr. Zuchie? The White finally came too, speaking rapidly and with the same cheer in his voice as always. I think I may have it. He has a... The White struggled for words to explain it to His. A signature? A pattern? One that is his, and his alone, of his mind and emotions. I just had to find that, and we can follow it? The girl almost laughed, glancing back at the rider's worriedly. Don't ask me, just do it.

The White did just that then, reaching out with his mind and searching. It wasn't that hard - all dragon's did it, to find Their's or another dragon. This one just... Reached out farther, stretching to where he knew the mind had last left. Panic, confusion, anger - it beat on him from every side, and Nim hurriedly tried to take some of the strain from his mind. He nuzzled her greatfully, but his search did not wander, and soon enough he came to a very, very, very faint glimmer. We go. The White leapt into the air, wings beating steadily, before leveling off and following his mind, still searching, flying. Nim was, as always, his physical mind, and the pair didn't bother about the rest of the riders. They were there, or they were not. Plain and simple.