Snow storm [Noyth's Flight]

[fidelli]

Noyth was not happy. Not that that mattered, because she was rarely happy anymore. The self-titled Queen of the Infirmary was often curled in her couch, irritated at everything and nothing at all. A'mor - who was very used to his dragon's moods - was ignoring her, and that just ticked her off more. She, like all Gray's, were very sensitive to their Rider's, and that he would ignore her every changing bi-polarness... Well, it irritated her QUITE more than necessary. Noyth didn't rise often, you see. Gray's were rare in that aspect - she rose perhaps once every three or four turns, and each time she had done so she had been in different moods. Once, she had been a playful kitten - the next, the gentle but demanding Queen. It wasn't fair for A'mor to know, but Noyth held her Rider in high regards... And that he failed to note this irked her more than necessary.

But she wasn't going to tell him forthright - it wasn't her way. She preferred to coil herself within her mind and hold out - he needed a good surprise in his mind every once in a while.

Even as it was or wasn't particularly nice that she didn't tell him, Noyth was finally enjoying herself the few moments she had to herself when A'mor finally left the Infirmary to B'nyur and Oveth. She had insisted that he come and curl with her on her couch, and the male did it - there was not much he didn't do for the Gray when she asked. It was a comfortable silence, even as he sleepily watched her tail flicker up and down in a tattooed rhythm that could not sit still. They were watching the flurries, outside - winter had come fast, and it was just beginning to start to snow. It was pretty, actually - it had not yet begun hard, but it was beginning to, and A'mor was content to curl with the warmth of his Gray.

Noyth, that Gray, had different ideas, and had suddenly risen, letting the Rider fall on the stone with a heavy, "Off. Noyth?! What the shardit - Noyth?" His irritated tone had suddenly shrunk as he watched the Gray - normally a slow moving, very evenly paced creature - lope to the ledge, throwing herself out into the snow and balancing on the rock. She threw open her wings, and screamed - it was a scream of fury, a scream of challenge, a scream of anger against the world.... And A'mor's face went ashen. Faranth. His Gray was Rising, and he had no F'del to fall back on. The Purplerider was not even in the Weyr - he was visiting family, and even then he would not have let Altith Fly Noyth again.

They were over, and it was time for the Masterdragonhealer to move on. Noyth screamed again and fell from her ledge, catching herself with her wings and gliding over the herdbeasts. She craved their fear, reveled in the stampede she created at once, feeding off of the turmoil of emotions. The Gray may have been the smallest dragon in Dalibor, and one of the smallest on Pern, but tonight, for this moment, she was the biggest. She was the most important, and it was her time, as she feel upon a buck and ripped it's throat out. BLOOD. The call made her scream, as she threw back her head and snarled her fury. HOW. DARE. HE. This was HER TIME. HER TIME AND HER TIME ONLY! With another snarl of fury she was after the kill again, but A'mor was with her, as he always was.

"BLOOD IT NOYTH!" She lashed out against the chain, but he persisted, throwing his whole weight behind the yell. He could see over her back - he was taller than her - yet she was so much more imposing than the surly Grayrider ever could be, and it was daunting to feel all the fury in her mind as she lashed out. Claws stained in red, she threw her kill in the air and lashed out again with her teeth. She sucked down the blood, letting it sing within her veins, and rose to snatch another from the herd. The doe in her claws died just as fast, but Noyth hoisted this one above her head, letting the blood drain down onto her face as she quickly sucked it dry. She fought his call again, but this time it was only to fight, and he sensed that.

The third and the fourth were quickly downed, and by the time she was ready she was bathed in the crimson color, letting it streak her chest and drip down her face, stain her clawws. She screamed again, calling for them to come, to come and find her, to come if they dared to chase her. They would not find their lives easy if they did - she would take none but the best!

A'mor, standing on the ledge and gazing down at her, could only feel nervous. It was her fourth flight - she did not rise often - but she was a veteran when it came to flying. And still, he only watched her. He could see her in the grass, claws carefully shredding the herdbeast in front of her to tiny bits. She was so small - she stood at a little less than six feet at her shoulder. Even Risk was taller than her - although Noyth gave the appearance of being higher, because of her neck and head. The Gray was longer than the Gold, of course, and her thin tail lashed out at the air, stirring the steady falling snow. Her breath tainted the air with clouds of mist as she panted, but the cold seemed not to bother her any more than that. Her wings were mantled, and A'mor, somewhere in his mind, could only note that she looked slightly absurd. Compared to her six foot body, her wingspan stretched at twenty seven feet - she was literally all wings.

The dragon was shining, in the white snow - she was the brightest she would ever get. Marble colored, the taint of unpolished black and white marble that was more gray than anything else. Swirls and slips of various grayscales color her, and even with the bright hue of a Rising female she still looked dull. She was so dark running down her spine and the ridges, nearly black, and she lightened boldly down to the paler gray on her underbelly, bared neck, and chin. Underneath the crimson colors that so shockingly stained her face she darkened to almost a silver, and her wings, so huge that they took up most of the space she occupied, were a darker twist of plain marble, the membrane a cascade of different very light grays.

He knew that Noyth was beautiful, A'mor did, and as he felt her fury and power ingrain in his very mind the Rider could only send her skyward with all of his heart, ignoring the rider's that slowly began to gather around him. This was not his time, not his time to choose - this was Noyth's, as the tiny Queen snarled her fury and leapt into the sky. For how ungainly she was, how peculiar she looked with such a large wingspan on earth, in the air, in her natural element, she out flew them all. She slashed out as one got too close, screaming her rage that her suitors even dared to TOUCH her, and shot off, huge wings giving her one push that it took three for the rest of the airborne creatures. Into the storm she shot, the blood lusting female had no fear for what could and should happen. There were no thermals to play on, no resting here - it was against the blustering winds and the cold that she flew.

And she didn't care what the rest thought, or how they felt. If they Flew with her, they would be prepared to be beaten, or mocked unless they were in fact prepared for her. She was Queen, and she would allow for no fools in HER chase. She longed to rip them all apart even now, that they dared think themselves worthy... But the battle hardened female only shot on, knowing that they would get theirs. It was all about the snow and the beautiful flight - nothing more.

[Nia]

A'li was rather content with wandering around and exploring the Weyr, even in the cold. It might be winter, but he had to explore his new home, did he not? Not that it was very new anymore, considering he'd already been here for a good while... and won a Flight. He almost laughed at that. Beiruth really was quite the womanizer, far worse than A'li could ever be, despite how hard he tried. Lately it'd almost become a competition between the two of them. It was fun... far more fun than trying to strike up an argument with a non-responsive dragon. Sharding passive-aggressive brute.... He really knew how to rub the red-head the wrong way.

He'd been considering going off to visit his sister when Beiruth announced, The pretty Gray lady flies. I'm chasing her.

[/i] The pastel-Purple sounded calm and nonchalant. A'li rubbed his temples in slight annoyance. Really? Again? Why? He asked, sounding rather annoyed. He didn't want the Purple to fly again so sharding soon! He hadn't even met half the people in the Weyr yet and they were going to think he wasn't going to be faithful! ... well, that was almost true, but it wasn't like it was even his fault this time! It was the sharding dragon! I want to, so I am flying. Go find her rider,[/i] and that was all Beiruth had to say to His before he flew off towards where Noyth was already beginning to blood. Ooh, she was fiesty. Good, this wasn't going to be boring, then.

The redhead stumbled through the Weyr. It was a good thing he was already wandering pretty close to the personal Weyrs, or he might have just given up and collapsed where he was. It was also a good thing that he'd taken to thoroughly wandering around to get the feel of the Weyr or he'd never find his way back to the personal weyrs. Shard it... he cursed mentally as he continued stumbling through the hallways, almost knocking over a drudge as he tried to find his way to the weyr. He had no idea who Beiruth was chasing. It was a Gray, but A'li knew no Grayriders. He really only did know a few people. Shards... he cursed again. This was not the first impression he wanted to give to the good people of Dalibor....

It took him way longer than it should have to reach A'mor's weyr, and A'li felt a hint of disappointment when he noticed that it was a male Grayrider, and not female. Well... he'd never really been picky about gender, but still, he would have liked a girl.... Oh well, now wasn't the time to grumble about choices. He hadn't wanted Beiruth to fly anyway. "A'li," he gave a half-wave with his hand to the Grayrider who probably wasn't even mentally there anymore. Well, now he could add his flight-introductions up to two. The redhead sighed and finally gave in to Beiruth's thoughts of lust. It wasn't like anyone could blame him for what his dragon chose to do.

Beiruth lurked about Noyth, watching her. He bugled loudly to announce his arrival into her Flight, letting her know that he was there. Her hide was pretty. Gray. It matched the winter skies. He was smart enough to give Noyth her distance, though, especially after watching her lash out at one. Beiruth felt A'li finally give up on trying to resist and their minds merged seamlessly, A'li's cautiousness helping Beiruth to resist moving closer to the little Gray. So much fire in such a small dragon! This was going to be fun, he could tell. He took off after her, his wings stretching as wide as they could go as he flapped after her. She was all he cared about at the moment, and he didn't need anything else but her. He bugled to her again, a trill of excitement. The winds were harsh, but Beiruth flew on.[/blockquote][/size]

[kyrillion]

Comfortably ensconced within the warm confines of his weyr, Ripariath regarded the gray-white skies with mellow appraisal. It was a beautiful sight; following so many months of humid summer heat, the impending storm was a refreshing change, casting all of Dalibor in an ethereal, gentle light. It softened any sharp edges, felt blissfully peaceful despite the occasional flurries and gusts of wind. It wasn't particularly dark out, either, as it might have been were a rainstorm on the horizon. But the low cloud cover seemed to have something else in store and, sure enough, thick crystals of snow were soon tumbling from the heavens, obscuring his view of the bowl and glazing everything in purest, sugary white. Raising his cornflower-blue head, paler than usual in the snowlight, the blue inched towards the ledge, treasuring the sight. Unlike that cat and 'lizard of Kyrillion's, he didn't mind the crisp chill of autumn, or even the frost of winter. It was invigorating; it set every nerve on fire, begged movement and flight and dancing. He loved storms, rain or snow or hail, and though His had left not long ago to catch up on some of her projects in the forge, he was inclined to call her back. Surely she wouldn't begrudge him a little flying - she enjoyed it as much as he did, after all.

He was halfway to his feet when a shrill scream ripped through the atmosphere of tranquility, and all thoughts of a tame afternoon with his rider fled his mind at once. Instantly alert, eyes whirling, he skipped out to the ledge and spread his wings, testing the turbulence of the wind and surveying what little he could see of the bowl. His attention was riveted on the lithe, slender gray form that was already falling on her first victim; and as he watched her blood herdbeast after herdbeast, dark purple began to bleed into the blues and greens of his eyes. He knew Noyth, just as he knew her rider; and her rider was a him. That was important, according to what he'd occasionally picked up from Kyril's thoughts. For now, though, those were the only considerations he allowed his rider; Noyth's was a him, and that would have to be enough. Decision made, he threw open his jaws and, the chill air like fire in his lungs, let out a bellow; not sweet, or gentle, but strong and steady. He would rise to her challenge! He would prove he was worthy of her!

Kyrillion had sensed from the beginning that something was up with her beloved blue, but beyond one brief inquiry (which he'd ignored), she hadn't pressed the matter further. Even when the sound of Noyth's cries filtered in through the lower caverns, she didn't put two and two together; she was far too focused on forging some more of that special steel she had helped her grandfather develop, and the process took quite a lot of time and patience. Only when she felt Ripariath's sudden spark of steely determination, and felt as much as heard his answer to the gray's challenge, did she realize just what was going on. Eyes widening in shock, she flew to attention, hoping to Faranth she was wrong. An acute apprehension rose in her, so strong it was He couldn't be Chasing, could he? He hadn't exactly shown much interest in Flights before now.

She had her little work-station cleared in record time, and was soon sprinting down the hallway and towards the nearest exit. Though she could see everything through Ripariath's eyes - Noyth's gleaming marble hide in the snow, and how beautiful she seemed to her own dragon - she needed to see it for herself. And sure enough, as soon as she stepped outside she was assailed by a whirlwind of snowflakes, the wind tugging greedily at her short hair. Through the blanket of white, she could only just see Noyth, who she realized must be nearly finished blooding the herdbeasts. This was real. This was really happening. And she knew already that Ripariath, once decided, was about as likely to change his mind as she was. In other words, not likely at all. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, paying no mind to the slight chill of the air and the snow that, as it melted, would have her soaked in no time. All things considered, she supposed this could have been a lot more mortifying an experience; she'd always known that Rip would Chase, eventually, and that the potential for some seriously awkward situations was quite high. But this was A'mor; at least she knew him. At least he was a man; not that that would make it much less awkward should her sharding blue win the Flight. And yet, quite at odds with what else she was feeling, she couldn't help but hope he did - for his sake. She'd hate to see him disappointed. And so, hurrying back inside and out of the storm, she made her way quick as she could to A'mor's weyr, struggling with the firestorm of Ripariath's emotions. She didn't think she could hold them back for long.

Ripariath, for his part, stayed anchored on his own ledge; perceiving Noyth's unbridled rage, he knew better than to venture in close. He remained still as a statue, poised and patient - a silent observer, for now. Through the snow he could see the red painting Noyth's marble hide, a splash of vibrant, livid color amongst the grayscale backdrop. The only color in the weyr; how ironic that Dalibor's only gray could seem brightest, most colorful, most alive in all the Weyr. When at last she spread her wings - not ungainly, to him, but striking - he was ready. When she rose, screaming, like a star into the sky, he followed at once, wings grasping at the turbulent air and propelling him higher. Though he was a fast, agile flier, he was nothing compared to her. But he followed her into the storm all the same, relishing the challenge and ready to prove his worth.

[fidelli]

And they came as the snow fell, whirling and dancing, shrieking their glee as they coated the already gray back and stained everything in THEIR color. No other precipitation did that, claiming everything with their mark, painting the whole world an icy white. Noyth ignored them as they gathered, just as A'mor did, standing on the ledge mindless of the cold. The first to come was Beiruth, announcing his arrival. BAH. She did not care if he was there, although she expected it. A fickle Queen she was, demanding their attention and yet ignoring it. She did not care if he was there, announcing it, but she would have been angry if he was not... She was not in the right mind, this beautiful Gray.

The next was one she knew, slightly - Ripariath. Seeing the Blue tugged Her's as well, and A'mor glanced around groggily. The new Purple transfer... A'li? And there she was. He smiled slightly at Kyril, amused in the part of his mind that was still registering things. He had searched her... And now she was battling for a claim to him. Noyth did not care what A'mor thought - that Kyril had always been pretty and he didn't mind getting in her pants at all - but did mind the Blue as much. At least he was silent, still - paying homage to her like the good pawns they were.

Their were others too, as A'mor looked around. A'toki, with Blue Iasineth that crowed his presence. J'men, pacing, with Bivneth growling softly in the back. He knew D'lee and J'von from his wing, and Noyth allowed Blue's Amisceth and Brillith a glance as well. Um'per, of the Purple Radith - Noyth had always liked the color Purple... N'dir, of Blue Trith. And T'ne was there as well, Black Vacyth making his stand among the dragons. Noyth didn't give them long a glance, shoving herself into the air with a scream of rage - HOW DARE THEY THINK THEMSELVES WORTHY?!

As soon as she was in the air for a little way she pulled her first trick. It was simple, easy enough for a tiny dragon like herself to flip right over in mid air and shoot right back in the middle of the males chasing her... And her claws found their first target. Vacyth received a fierce clawing over his face and shoulders as she screamed and ripped into his flesh, dropping him just as fast and shooting up, up, up, up, UP! A'mor barely registered T'ne running from the room as fast as he could, and Noyth didn't care that Vacyth was dropping from the sky. How DARE a Black think he was worthy of HER?!

Now she spiraled up, knowing that many dragonesses used this trick last but not caring. She shot upwards and out, over the ocean, letting them fall behind her in order. She didn't care about them - she only cared about the blood in her claws and the beauty of Flying, FLYING FREE. A'mor only laughed quietly, full behind her mind and enjoying the scents and sweet air underneath too big wings. Here, she was not the smallest - here, she was the BIGGEST. She was QUEEN. She dropped down, darting up and down and over, spinning down down down down back down to the ocean where she let a claw dip into the waves that were rushing. It was snowing heavier, and when she looked back again she saw that the crowd had shrunk.

Iasineth had not lasted the climb - Brillith had tore a muscle in the dive. Still six flew behind her, and she hissed. TOO MANY. She began to fly harder now, flapping wings that pushed her ahead and over, using the hard wind currents and the limited visibility to her advantage. She slowed then too, letting them almost catching up after Trith pulled off with a scream of rage. She let them get close, closer... And, then, she struck again. Radith had gotten TOO close, and with a scream of fury she lashed out with her back feet, tearing his shoulder apart into raw flesh and flipping over to rake down his back with her front claws. GO!

And then she was hurtling upwards again, working for breath but refusing to give in. She would not bow! She would not be caught! Even as the breath labored into her chest, she flew up and up, back over towards land... Because even she was ready to slowly give in, as A'mor fed her his strength and let her do as she would. When she then looked, so far up in the sky she danced among the clouds, invisible to the fliers, she had three chasers left. Amisceth, Ripariath, and Beiruth. All three were good Fliers, to have chased her long enough, and she darted among the clouds with small hisses and trills, leading them this way and that among the high altitude. Amisceth and Her's knew each other - he was a steady, strong dark Blue who had always treated her well. Beiruth was new, but had proven himself in Flight. Ripariath... He was young, the youngest, but he had kept up very well.

The Gray knew she had to choose, and hated it - but she was tiring. She needed this, as the fury was slowly abating and in its place need. With a final shriek she dropped from her chase into the band, lashing out a claw to scratch at Beiruth and snapping her jaws over Amisceth's head - to Ripariath, she trilled and allowed him to catch her, telling him softly, Come. Tangle with me.

A'mor sagged, dropping back into the room with a steady thump and turning to the girl at his side. It did not matter that he had the female dragon - he had experience on his side, and he scooped her up easily, curling a hand around her waist and another around her cheek, entangling himself with her as the dragons did above, pulling her to his bed and not planning on leaving it for sometime.

[kyrillion]

Vaulting from his ledge, Ripariath rose after her into the heart of the storm, flanked by the half-dozen purples and blues (and the one black) that had answered her challenge. It was a large group; she would be pleased to have plenty of suitors to choose from, but the heightened sense of competition he felt was hardly welcome. Still, he kept his attention resolutely on her as, one by one, they all trailed up and out of the bowl, picking up speed as they gained altitude. But Noyth, as expected, wasn't about to make this easy on them; for no sooner were they clear of the Weyr than, her outline but an indistinct blur among the clouds, she executed a sudden flip and, in the blink of an eye, was hurtling back towards the chasers. Finding little room to maneuver, locked in between Bivneth and Radith, the blue flared his wings to check his momentum and pulled himself unrelentingly up. He gained several quick, vertical feet on the group - and just in time, too. Her scream of rage drew his gaze back down, the sound abrupt and shrill as a jolt of electricity, and he watched as she fell on Vacyth, all rage and acrimony and unchecked temper. Then she was shooting past him again, up and out and away towards the ocean. As the injured black dropped like a stone from the sky, Ripariath coiled himself like a spring and whirled around, clutching unrelentingly at any currents that would carry him after her.

She was by far the fastest of them, but the blue sailed doggedly after her, lithe form shaken from side-to-side by duelling eddies and gusts of wind. He'd always loved flying in storms, dangerous as they could prove to be, and the sharp, cold air was welcome and refreshing. Exhilarating, even. The water, stretching out in all directions below them, was the same color as the sky; nearly the same shade as Noyth, herself, and as she gained distance on the group her sillhouette became indistinct among the flurries of snow - spectral, even, and easy to lose if one wasn't careful. He pressed on, relishing the chase, his blood boiling in his veins. On and on they travelled, until his breath came in short gasps and his lungs screamed for air, but he was far from giviing up; it was not in his nature.

And then Noyth was falling, tumbling gracefully down to dance among the waves, and he did not hesitate to tuck in his wings and follow. Here, his size was to his advantage; his momentum gave him an edge, propelled him faster after her, until he was falling back into place - close behind her, but not too close. He was hardly going to risk sharing Vascyth's fate. As he waited for her to tire, and seized at the opportunity to at least try and catch his breath, he unfurled his wings completely and let himself glide. Skating back-and-forth in broad, sweeping motions, he soon found himself gliding mere feet above the water. His cornflower blue hide was gradually coated in icy ocean spray, every drop a welcome relief to his burning muscles. And he treasured them even more when Noyth began another climb, this one steeper than the last. A few powerful strokes of his wings and he was rocketing away from the water, following in her wake and trying desperately to keep up. Up, they travelled, the four of them that remained, until they had risen above the storm and the clouds and the air grew thin until, at last, he could see that she was slowing down. She was ready to make her decision and then, just like that, she was among them. Momentarily disoriented by the sudden tumult of claws and wings, he veered sharply to the left ot avoid colliding with Amisceth - and found his limbs suddenly entangled with her own.

Come. Tangle with me.[/color] Her voice was like honey, giving him renewed strength as he pulled in his wings and let them fall together. Holding her tightly to him, no longer wary of provoking her anger (let her scratch at him, now - it no longer seemed to matter), he moved to twine his tail possessively with hers. His eyes were overtaken entirely by a deep, murky purple, and he was consumed entirely by...

And that's when Kyril's consciousness came crashing back to earth. Entirely unprepared for the onslaught of emotion, so intense it had her knees buckling, she reached out for the man suddenly foremost in her thoughts - but he was already there, strong arms around her, lifting her easily into the air. She wrapped herself around him instinctively, lips clumsily seeking out his. All inhibitions were gone, and it was all she could do to hold on as she let him take the lead. [/size]