Chayath rises again

January 31st 2002
Logged by Shaela


Yiddae walks in from the Central Bowl.

D'baji follows a path of wispy white from shoulder to forearm to slide to the ground from Nverath's neck, landing lightly.

Chayath steps gracefully in from the Central Bowl.
Bralath slides, with utter grace, in from the Central Bowl.
Tyrodinth glides in from the Central Bowl.
Squaln shuffles in from the Central Bowl.

Bralath's is an almost graceful movement, from bowl to beach, his wings flicking into position against his torso even as he rumbles his dark, earthy-tipped greeting. R'ian dismounts, a salute expressed in cheerful greeting, his cry firm: "Ista's duties to the 'reaches!"
R'ian slides from Bralath's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Backstreeth glides in from the Central Bowl.
N'sync slips in from the Central Bowl.

Tyrodinth paces in, not preceisely trailing after Chayath but not unaware of her. Rather, the brown goes to his Yiddae as she stares out across the water. She's not anywhere near Shaela but then, Tyrodinth isn't about to crowd Chayath.

Monaco winks silently in from the smoke and mirrors of ::between::.

Chayath finds the object of her desire and thus curls into a glowing ball of rich earthen golds that flare with the heat of proddyness. Rumbling softly to the gathering, she flirts only a little with the males around her, remaining a little coy.

Backstreeth isn't really paying much attention as of yet. After all, what're a few pre-show disturbances to a tried and true performer such as himself? He's learned through long practice that storing energy for the /real/ show pays off.. and as such, Chayath is merely watched, slitted eyes revolving with a slow pre-show calm that hides and hints of stage fright or nervousness. He'll be ready. Ready to win her heart with /actions/, not silly treats or trinkets. It's the /moves/, babay.

Shaela trundles up along the lakeshore, towel in arm, as she prepares to enjoy the late morning sunning with her lifemate. It'll allow Chayath the opportunity to show off the golden glow she's taken on lately, and Shaela can enhance her already dark skin with whatever 'tan' one can get from the High Reaches sun. She kicks idly at the water with a bare toe, but otherwise just meanders slowly toward the place her lifemate has chosen.

N'ano walks nonchalantly in from the Central Bowl.

Yiddae pays only a little attention to the brown bulk that suddenly loomed up beside her although somewhere along the line, some private commant sparks an exclamation. "Tyrodinth! Don't you remember last time?" Yiddae essays a quick glance down towards the reason for interest and winces. "And it was her too." softly muttered words but colored with resignation. Tyrodinth just rumbles reassuringly at his rider and continues to bestow wistfully sappy long looks on Chayath.

R'ian noticed Chayath. He also, however, noticed his clutchmate - and gives the other bronzerider a wry smile. It's all in the name of experience. Bralath has more affirmed ideas; his low croon is seductive (well…almost), his lengthy wings oustretched just *so*, as if to display them to quite the perfect angle, as he outstretches bronzen hide in the sun. R'ian swallows, and smiles. Sort-of.

Brainth is sitting by the lakeside his tail curled slightly about his rider. Sc'arecrow, content that his job is done, and that his wingleader won't be expecting him back for a good long time is busy relaxing. He is lying, hands behind his head resting against one section of his brown's tail, while the end of said tail is looped around his chest. Just for good measure he brings his feet up to rest against a very pale brown side. Brainth rumbles he happens to open one eye and catch sight of Chayath, but he cuts himself short, and is content to just observe *cough*stare*cough*at*cough* her.

Chayath has chosen the /perfect/ place for a nice, petite gold to lay. Allowing for easy access to the water - for the lifemate - the gold stretches out just a little, showing off her glowing red highlights too. Newcomers are murmured to lazily, however attention remains on soaking up the warm rays of the summer sun.

Maximeth clatters down from above.

D'baji has managed to form the distinct impression that anywhere more north than SeaCliffs is horridly cold. So, he's got his bare arms wrapped around himself as he wanders across the beach, offering a slight wave to R'ian without really taking his arms away from his body. Nverath's not cold at all, though. Nverath has been enjoying their visit to the different Weyr. And Nverath is currently enjoying a casual gaze towards Chayath, offering a very low, very deep, series of rumbles, which could nearly be described as musical to her in greeting.

Nylanth clatters down from above.

"Anyone seen Chelle 'round? Need to talk to her…" Yep, N'ano's just casually popping in like he lives here. It's summer so it's not too bad… Taking notice of the fellow Istans, he gives a half-salute and a "Hey guys, what's shakin'?" as a greeting.

You sense Chayath spins light musical notes through her wine-red hued tones.. « I am going to enjoy this chase. »

G'deon slides from Nylanth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Backstreeth may not be paying much attention, but N'sync seems to be anxious for the show to start. The brownrider - quickly becoming seasoned in the area of wooing and winning, whether flight-related or not - is quick to notice exactly /why/ dragons seem to be gathering on the beach. Brown eyes sliding slowly over the form of the glowing gold, his practiced, winning smile slides into place with a nearly audible 'click.' Turn on the charm! With a quick motion to run a hand through his hair and brush a bit of dust from his leathers, he's sauntering in Shaela's general direction, quite ready to win her heart. Or at least to win /something./

Tyrodinth edges a little closer, shifting around until he's settled nicely on a highish bit of ground where he watch everything. Most particularly his red-gold darling. Seeing she's not too busy, he rumbles softly to her, accompanying the sound with a wisp of mental greeting and a tiny fragment of memory from the last time he saw he like this. And then he backs it up with a pronouncement that she's only gotten more beautiful since.

Shaela had thought that maybe she'd find some peace and quiet out on the beach, but evidently that's not going to happen. She steps over some children's sand toys, and moves around various sunners before reaching her lifemate. The gold gets a loving pat on the muzzle before Shaela sets out her towel. Various other beachlovers whom she knows are noted and waved to, but she makes no moves to join them, instead sitting directly down on her towel. She'll let them approach her, should they wish to. Otherwise, it's time to lay back, close the eyes, and sun her front for, oh, ten minutes?

S'tuff dismounts from his shiny bronzed steed.. er.. dragon, with the ease of a man who's done this many, many times before. Flipping a length of dark, shoulder length hair out of his sight, he then rambles towards the gathering crowd, a specific look in his eye as he lands his gaze upon each other rider in turn. "So…," he states simply, his smile widening as he finally spots the lovely lady of the hour herself. "Nice place to be hiding…" Sickly grin follows. Raising a hand, he brandishes his bottle of wine and states, "Anyone for some drinks?" Yes, he carries alcohol to public beaches… Heck, he carries some to the latrines! (though it's usually to relieve himself of it)

Backstreeth head shifts just enough to better his view of Chayath. Reddish highlights are taken notice of, and a faint, soft rumble indicates approval, but he's not ready to give up his pre-show comfort just yet. Conservation of energy.. there will be enough time for spotlights to show off /his/ highlights (just wait til you see his /moves/!) in a bit.. and he's rather enjoying the show he's getting right now. Lovely.

G'deon slides from Nylanth's shoulders with an almost wary glance towards the other various swimmers, tanners and gawkers, some of whom he actually knows. "Busy morning," he comments drily to his lifemate while taking the riding straps from the bronze's neck and shoulders, meticulously curling them about his own shoulders in precise loops before backing away to find a dry spot to leave the leather.

N'sync is certainly not waiting for /Shaela/ to stir! He has a reputation to maintain. Sauntering directly toward the goldrider, his perfectly-white teeth flash in that darling, oh-so-perfect charmer's smile of his as he intones "Hey there. Looking for some company?" Looking or not, she's likely to get it. But who /wouldn't/ want to be entertained endlessly by bad come-ons and practiced smiles?

Yiddae watches her lifemate with one of those exasperated, resigned and amused expressions that riders of male dragons often seem to get at such moments as these. "Chase if you want. Just don't win." she murmurs to herself, stretching slowly before picking up a stray stone and skipping it neatly across the surface of the lake. Edgily, she looks for Shaela and once she has the goldrider's location pinpointed, carefully turns away.

R'ian stands, rather not moving much, nor looking anywhere in particular - except, perhaps, his lifemate, who earns the occasional frustrated glance. The bronze is otherwise occupied: his rapidly whirling eyes settle upon Chayath, tail slowly outstretching behind him as a suitable position for wooing is taken. If he's noticed that he's not the only one attempting to perform such a deed, he's made no response to it; this one is *his*.

Maximeth shakes himself all over, as though glad to be rid of the burden of his rider. The bronze turns his head ever so slowly to view the glowing gold, but only enough to look and not to be noticed. Rule one of attracting the chicks; don't let 'em know your interested. A healthy curiousity then emminates from the lass, because of your state of indifference.. He knows! He read the book! And just ask Alymath and Lis.. Heh.

Nylanth follows his lifemate's glance with a draconic approximation of a shrug, probably an illusion brought about by the abrupt lowering of his head and shoulders to ease the removal of his straps. Idly whirling eyes scan the beach then, an indolent shade of greenish blue.

D'baji actually gets his arms out of their somewhat folded position to offer N'ano a quick salute. Darn, manners can catch on… "Shakin'?" is questioned towards him with a shrug, and then eyes rove over to Nverath, and proceed to roll about in the man's skull. So D'baji makes a note of trying to attempt to edge closer to R'ian, leaving his dragon to go about exploring the beach. Because even if there /is/ a gold there, and she is particularly radiant, Nverath's never been one for crowds… So, partial attention kept on Chayath, he goes to dip his tail in the water, warbling good-naturedly towards any dragons who may hear him over the interest in the female.

One might say Shaela is in a touch of denial - she and Chayath have had ten turns of experience now with flights, so she should know exactly when her lifemate is due - or maybe she's merely resigned herself to this fact of life, and is willing to take her day as she would any other, with the flight as simply a brief interruption to the usual. "Do you know where Piccath is?" she murmurs aloud to her lifemate, the thought brought about by N'sync's question. "I suppose you could join me.. just be careful that you don't block my sun, eh?" She waves with her hand to indicate that at the moment, he's doing just that.

Pilloeth clatters down from above.

"I'd never dream of it, darling," N'sync responds swiftly, smile flashing a bit more broadly as he settles himself as close to Shaela as he dares.. which is rather close, for N'sync. "The sunlight does such fabulous things for you… it'd be wrong of me to deny that sight to everyone, don't you think." Oh /there/ it is. Such a charmer. Really. Believe it or not, some girls /do/ fall for that.

S'tuff eyes N'sync warily, but hides his outright dislike with another sickly sweet smile. So, the two come together yet again, do they? And this time, it's not over a bath full of young, playful weyrling lasses, but over a gold and her rider instead! Therefore, he holds out his free hand, the one without the wine, towards the other man in greeting. "N'sync. Good to see you… See you've already introduced yourself, neh? Smart man.. But, don't want to come off as a push-over, now do we?" Which is why S'tuff himself waits until Shaela is completely relaxed again, before coughing to announce his presence, making sure to stay out of her sun alright. "The name's S'tuff, rider of bronze Maximeth. 'Tis a pleasure, I'm sure…" And under his breath, he adds, "One that's allll yours.."

R'ian grins wryly, D'baji's movement towards him met with quiet hesitance. "This is rather - different, from what I expected to be doing here." Not really? His hands dig deep into his pockets, his shoulders drooping as he adds, "I wish he'd give up, before he even tried." Mournful tone is aimed towards Bralath, who isn't listening; he's got bigger, more golden, fish to fry.

N'ano goes home.

Sc'arecrow allows eyes of an near-indisguishable green colour to drop open. This is in response to something his dragon has said, and he looks questioningly up towards the brown, a frown of curiousity pulling his eyebrows together. Tilting his head back over his dragon's tail he attempts to take stock of the surrounding croud. "Hmm…" is muttered quietly to his dragon, as if he's not quite master the /inner/ part of an inner dialogue "D'you suppose? She certainly is pretty." His eyebrow-only frown returns, this time in contemplation.

G'deon finishes settling the riding straps on the ground and places his fists on hips while taking in the current scene, dragons and riders especially. "Now just what do you make up that?" he asks his lifemate, peering up at Nylanth while shielding his eyes from the noonday sun. "Maybe that dip in the lake can wait. I'd bet Chanticoth and Ilare wouldn't mind a trip down to an Istan beach. Later on, of course." Ambitious this morning?

D'baji gives a snort in reply to R'ian in reply, accompanied by a wry little grin. "Somewhat, yes… Though one must suppose that so many dragons will provide a fairly good tour of the skies, eh?" And now back to a somewhat broody mood as he eyes his supposedly non-chalant lifemate, who's now drawing things in the water with the tip of his tail. "I'm surprised 'Ver's showing such an interest. Or, trying not to… He acts all noble over such things when there's not a somewhat shiny gold around…" Dragon, however, goes about ignoring his riders, making his ripples in the water go in a nearly heart-shape.

Chayath's reply to her lifemate is a brief snort - she's rather unimpressed that her brown weyrmate is not here to admire with the rest of the boys. But Piccath or no, she'll have a grand old time when she's ready to fly. For the time being, howeever, she's rather enjoying all the attention. Yes, she does look lovely in the sun, does she not? Oh, please, continue the worship. Lay it on thick.

R'zan, on the rather-large-for-his-size brown Moranth, tromps onto the shore from the Bowl, a large sack slung over his back. "This'll do, Moranth, don'tcha think?" Errand-running of course. "Gaw. Morry. Stop keening at me so… seductively." But is it at him? Dismounting, he gives a gleeful wave to the small crowd gathered- "G'day- thought I'd take a break here for a while." Grin.

R'ian's nod is ruefully made, his attention falling back towards his feet - which suddenly, out of nowhere, have a rather fascinating appearance. Not too big, not too small; just right. "Bralath's interested," he responds, very simply. "Very interested." Happy, happy, joy, joy. Bralath does indeed think she looks lovely in the sun - just the right shade to compliment his own, volcanic-like shades. He'll be the stem to her rose, and the fuzz to her champagne.

"A pleasure, S'tuff," Shaela greets the rider by offering her hand before repeating her request for N'sync to stop blocking her sun. Ugh. She glances back at her lifemate as the gold gives her snorting reply, and merely shakes her head. L'shil will arrive, of course - he'll just be his usual late self. No worries, it's all about carefree fun in the sun.

Nylanth isn't looking terribly interested in a swim, having shifted his bronzen bulk to a better position from which to view an extra-shiny Chayath. Ah… there's the molten gold. A low rumble sounds deep in his throat, and his great head swings around to fix a steady gaze on G'deon.

Tyrodinth would never halt the worship. Oh no, never ever ever. He mightn't be her weyrmate but he was her first mate and he's here and admiring. All the way up from Southern. He watches Chayath now with an adoring, soppy expression. His. Or she was once. Maybe again if she likes his brand of worshiping this time around.

D'baji finds his gaze following fellow bronzeriders to the feet, and then blushing a rather deep scarlet towards R'ian for having looked. At this point, of course, eyes close, and face is angled at the sky. "Nverath's not so sure, I don't think… He's rather intrigued, sure. But he's never met her either. Rather distressing thing, this is, for him." And Nverath certainly appears *cough* distressed, gazing rather dreamily towards this gold now, and still doodling things for her in the water with his tail, the occasional sweet little note crooned her way. "But he's not singin' yet, so that's a good sign."

Maximeth rumbles a sound of protest that the gold didn't react to his indifference… Well then… S'pose he tries trick number 2… The love song? With rusty voice that matches his hide, the bronzed dragon begins to croon.. Softly, so as to not disturb the pretties ears with too hurtful of noises. The tune sounds familiar,.. is it possible that the beast actually knows a harper's song?! Impossible. The faint strains of 'I will always love you," must be coming from your imagination.. though, that was the number one Pern hit a few turns back.. It's amazing not every animal with ears and a brain knows it by heart!

Moranth looks intrigued at the sight of the gold- funny how instead of lavishing admiration he's the rather… quirky one, yes. Still, the maple-brown dragon is interested, and boy would he like to fly today. R'zan makes his way over to the crowd, running his fingers through his gently-tossed brown locks, and introduces himself. "R'zan, brown Moranth's rider."

N'sync states up at S'tuff, daggers shooting from the boyishly charming young rider (or at least he /claims/ youth.. and judging from the girls he ussually attracts..). Only when Shaela can't see, though. Of course. "Haven't a clue what you're talking about, man," he replies goodnaturedly, tone at odds with his expression before he turns toward Shaela, eyes widened to show off that darling brown. "And surely you know me, my dear?" After all, he /does/ have a reputation. Groupies, and all that.

Chayath turns from lazy indolence to alert readyness as suddenly the need is upon her. Standing gracelessly, the small queen heads toward the pens, her tail swishing coyly behind her. Flaring unevenly, her golden glow has turned a decidedly reddish tint that enhances her dancer's form.

Backstreeth senses.. something. Or perhaps he's merely getting restless. Whatever it is, he stirs, stretching ever-so-slowly in the light of the sun. Mere backstage lights, these. The spotlight is yet to come. But still, with the moves he has, he must be nimble and ready. His tail loops backward, curving as hindlegs stretch and neck kinks before whipping back around so his gaze can again fix on Chayath.

S'tuff reaches down and softly carresses the riders offered hand, before bringing it slowly towards his lips. "As I said, pleasure.." His mouth makes this odd, yet rather cute kissy sound, and lips shape themselves into a heart shape as they pucker. The faintest scent of cinnamon drifts on the wind, letting you know that he was recently crunching on some sweet or another. As he pulls away, he boyishly grins towards the younger N'sync. "Oh now, my dear lad. I'm sure everyone knows /you/.. I mean.. The drudges /do/ talk, you know.." Smirk.

Brainth shifts so that he can see better and ends up twitching his tail around. S'carecrow feels his prop moving and attempts to get his feet up under him so he can stand, but the fact his face is so much closer to the ground than his feet foils that. Instead he does a bit of a backflip, which turns out to be more of a flop. The result is a happily laughing brownrider, sprawled on the sand.

"Singing?" But R'ian gets no further on that particular comment, for Bralath's leap after Chayath has rather caught more of his attention, visibly seen in his wince. "Faranth's curly nosehair."

* Dragons all move to the Feeding Pens *

G'deon grins up at Nylanth for a moment before he crosses his arms, eyes focusing once more, and this time on his one-time fellow candidate sunning off to the side. "Best of luck, Nyls," he murmurs to his lifemate before shuffling through the sand to the others, already a neat little crowd by now.

Nylanth stops mid-rumble, momentarily frozen as his eyes lock on the gleaming red-gold form. Yes, /this/ was what he wanted. The night-dark bronze snaps to attention, springing with almost impossible lightness to follow, his great wings casting a huge shadow over the beach.
Nylanth stealthily saunters to the Feeding Pens.

Maximeth notices the sudden change, and just as quickly, his crooning halts mid-croak. Wings that pick at the wind as easily as hearts beat, lift themselves to attention, readying himself for that moment when he must spring into action. His tail twitches too, but more in anticipation than anything else, and eyes swirl with pent up passion. Hey baby.. Are your wings tired? 'Cause you've been flying through my thoughts /all/ day!

"You know, I think I may have heard a few things," Shaela admits to the pair of suitors, before turning her head once again to watch her departing lifemate. Indeed, it begins. With a sigh, she rolls up her towel. "It's probably best if we go somewhere a little more.. private," the goldrider remarks. Before all self-control is lost and the mere thought of seeking privacy is beyond them. "Follow me," she declares for those who care to do so, in a somewhat resigned tone.

R'zan emits a chuckle. "Of course. From what Moranth tells me he's begun to take interest.

N'sync's eyes narrow into a positively /dangerous/ gaze… as silly as that looks on this bit of boyish charm and fluff. He's good at come-ons.. but to fight? Well, one never knows, does one? "Better than ancient obscurity, I do imagine," he returns quite pleasantly toward S'tuff as his eyes move tolinger on Shaela. There are more important things to pay attention to, here. "Some," he begins, now quite thoroughly ignoring the bronzer, "Are simply made for the sunlight. Shaela, my love, I do think you're in the wrong weyr.. you should be somewhere that the sun would /never/ stop shining on you. Although…" And now he pauses for another charming smile in the space of innocent musing. "I imagine the dim light of glows sets off your beauty just as well.. perhaps we should meet for dinner sometime and test my theory." Please. Stop. As if the bad poetry weren't enough.. "Ohh.. privacy. /Just/ what I had in mind!" he returns with a triumphant glance toward S'tuff as he rises to follow Shaela. Well. Noone ever said he was the quickest rider in the weyr.

* The riders all move to the Ground Weyrs *

Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened in aeons past by who-knows-what to provide shelter for injured dragons and their mates. Craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, sloping back from the weather-open entrance to a low opening into the infirmary itself. Stacked under rock-shaded cover are low supply chests of sturdy timber, flanked with long tables. Other openings are shaded by wherhide curtains, leading to smaller, private caverns for the dragonhealers' patients.
It is a summer noon.
Settled on rough-hewn ledge are Bansi, Bow-Wow, Kyoei, Vuil, Pix, Stellar, Angel, Sartorius, Ghede, S'tuff, N'sync, and Tenshi.
You see Yiddae here.

G'deon comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
D'baji comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
Lylia comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
R'ian comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

S'tuff is all for privacy, and at the thought he jumps to follow, completely ignoring the comment about his age. Instead, he hums happily to himself, glad for the invitation. See, unlike the young'en's gathered, he's learned one important thing… When you're wooing someone, 'tis best to keep the past in the past, and let her know that She's Your Only Girl. The only one for you… Even if you've already told that to Andair, Samal, or Jenny! Upon arriving at the Ground Weyrs, he finds a comfortable spot nearby and once again offers the wine to Shaela. "Just in case the sun and the walk made you thirsty," he croons.

Well, it's somewhat more private, at the very least. Simply Shaela and her 10-15 potential lovers. The goldrider uses her last few moments of sanity to perch herself up at a decent height atop a table - it adds maybe another three inches to her height, and every bit counts when surrounded by this many tall men - and glance around at the crowd, trying to identify faces. Ah! L'shil is here after all. The brownrider stumbles in, half-drunk, and plants a kiss on his lady's cheek before joining the rest of the crowd in its flight-inspired adoration of her. For Shaela's part, she offers him a warm smile, then slips into her lifemate's perspective of sexual object-of-worship.

Chayath> For the blood is the life… Crimson gleams in a predator's eyes as Druseth slinks through the pens, fangs glimmering with an unearthly sheen. Quiet as a shadow, the brown maintains a whisper-soft movement until the target is sight. The pulse of blood has risen, a warring tide that draws him like a siren's song. One look at you and I can't disguise, I've got hungry eyes… Swoomp. Chomp. A smattering of wing-snaps, and the final snap and strangled death-choke of a 'beast is herd. Mmm. Sweet, sweet surrender.

R'zan, though, is an amiable, yet somewhat sequestered fellow, leaning in the corner and occasionally gazing towards Shaela, beginning to meld his mind with his dragon's. "Wine? Telgarian?" Anything concerning wine perks /him/ up, ya.

Chayath> Nverath may try to be civil about the whole eating thing. But he is a dragon. And the feel of fresh blood sliding down his throat, along with the spectacle of a radiant gold, is enough to make even he jump his occasional bass note to a treble trill of delight. And now for another beast of sorts, killed equally soon in the same back-breaking manner as the first, and settling to his decided eating spot to lap at the juices.

Chayath> Bralath has love in his tummy - yummy, yummy, yummy! - but that's not quite enough. No: he swoops and dives towards another potential meal, calls him dinner, and ends up curled around a nice, bloody meal. Mm-mm. Sweet dreams are made of this - this, and Chayath, whose form fills his gaze, eyes whirling fast, faster, fastest. So this is love, mmm-mm-mmm, so this is love. Wings outstretch, soon-to-be (when he finishes growing) expansive sails fluttered in the breeze, as if to show himself off as he continues to blood.

Chayath> Tyrodinth licks a last drop of red from his muzzle, discarding the drained beast for firelizards. Another best is snatched from the herd with after a long moments consideration. Only the best heart for his beloved and since he needs no more, he offers it with an artless, earnest croon. Melodic, the sound is pure improvisation to convey his adoration.

Chayath> Nylanth has blooded enough, his entire form almost seeming to pulsate with the need that begins to swell within him. But there is something more… noble. Not just his own desire. But a fierce need to protect this gorgeous creature - this is what will drive him forward. He settles back on his great haunches, broad wings fluttering ever so slightly with anticipation of her first move.

Chayath> Shirasuth strides, bringing the scent of warmed sands with him, in from the Beach.

D'baji is just a bit afraid as he follows after the goldrider. However, there's enough Nverath influence left to him that he might find some interest, even a sort of deranged reflected attraction, to the goldrider. And the bronzer remains perfectly quiet, tongue occasionally darting out to lick at dry lips, while hel ooks for a suitable wall, and proceeds to go and lean his back against it. And trying not to look at Shaela, or R'ian's feet.

Chayath> Skirting around the riff-raff and villains among the other males, Pilloeth awakens fully once more, deserting what remains of his wherry in favor of a herbest injured in the press of the stampeding herd. Why waste energy on catching a sound animal? Sucking, drawing on the blood, he growls softly in response to Chayath's rather… intimidating… encouragement. From him, the sound isn't very threatening, but a certain ferocity resides under the lazy tones.

Sc'arecrow really couldn't help but follow. Far be it from him to turn down an invitation like that, even if it wasn't directed at him. Ground weyrs are really so exciting when you think about it, there's just an energetic atmosphere to them that makes one shiver. Which he does. And his head swivels, someone just offered wine, somewhere. Also not directed at him, but that's really quite alright, he makes his way over to the offerer and gives him a glowing curious smile, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to share that with us, would you?" He asks S'tuff /very/ brightly.

"Wine?" Shaela perks up at the offer. A few turns back she may have refused, but time brings changes, and indeed, a drop of liquor is entirely welcome. "I'd looove some," she drawls, batting her lashes at S'tuff.. and then everyone else. Gotta share the flirting around a little - it's still a perfectly even playing field.

R'ian stands: quiet, aloof, eyes focused in dread upon Shaela's form. So perhaps the 'aloof' isn't quite right; he's potentially terrified. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth to say something, and ends up squeaking instead, and does what D'baji manages not to; stare at his feet. Everyone join in - it's like the locomotion.

Yiddae slips into the shadows at the side, defensively taking refuge although her gaze lingers on Shaela - she can *not* manage to keep it away. However, there is enough self control left for an ironic smile at finding herself back here again before she turns her attention to her lifemate.

Chayath> Moranth's next meal is that of another fat herdbeast, and instead of eating the carcass, he sinks in his teeth and lets the blood flow. Yes. Lapping a bit of what spills out of the herdbeast into his maw, he sees some more blood pooling outside, denoting that there's still some left, and deciding he's blooded quite enough, he drags the carcass to Chayath again, as a human man would perhaps present a lady with a rose. Impishness aside, Moranth's guts and glory are to be tested again; this time in a gold flight.

Wine. Lylia likes wine. And the vague feelings slipping from Druseth make her think that yes! She can! He won't notice, he's all blood-happy, right? The brownrider slinks forward, just a step, that precious drink invading her thoughts… When the mental reprove comes. Loudly. Sulk. "Stupid dragon." And Lyli promptly flops down on the ground, curling her legs beneath here. She'll hide here. Yes. Goldriders can be scary…

Chayath> Dsalth paces with regimental gait in from the Beach.

Chayath> Maximeth was too slow on the uptake, it seems.. Sigh. Being old and in love isn't the easiest thing.. Especially when you have so many whippersnappers biting at your heals and trying to block your 'love shack' from making its way towards the greatest prize of all! However, he does get his wise rump towards the pens, landing near a young buck; a beast whom is swiftly disposed of with a quick tear of its neck. Petty revenge, he s'poses, killing one so young, but all's fair in love and flights, neh? Licking the blood from his soaked chin, he lowers his head to feast some more upon the rosy flow that stems forth. That liquid which escapes his maw puddles around his front paws, in a rose-shaped design. It may not be flowers, but he once heard that blood's a glowing gold's best friend anyway.

Chayath> Dsalth watches with interest as P'rru descends carefully

R'zan does not bother to mentally reprimand his dragon for attempt in flight; in fact he's been quite drawn to the sight of the proddy gold. Most proddy golds in fact. Although of course Moranth's only got green flights in his repertoire. Taking a sweetstick out of his pocket, he chews on it, deciding he's not quite in the mood for wine today.

Chayath thinks to you, « It is time to take to the skies, Love. Follow me and we shall lead them on a merry chase.. »

P'rru comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Chayath> Brainth has now officially consumed the exact amount of herdbeast that will take him to the maximum of his not-so-gran physical abilities. Light streaks of red edge up the sides of his muzzle and along his pale neck, as if drawn inwards. The blood, like the flight itself is starting to get to him, sending little tendrils towards his heart. With a slight roll of his swirled shoulders and a sound like fresh straw, Brainth turns so he can get the best view possibly of the red-hued gold. After all that's what he's hear for. Slave for the day to this lovely one, and of course to the whole process.

S'tuff is friendly enough to share his liquid gold with the others gathered. Therefore, he leaves his seat with a slight moan; for older bones do tend to cause some pain, no matter how young at heart one might be. Once glasses have been found, he pours each of them some, keeping the skin for himself. Alas, the lovely goldrider has found herself a mate, however, there's many others gathered about! Shouldn't let good wine go to waste, which is why he sidles up the crouched Lylia. "Hmmm.. Looks like you could use this," he offers, once again smiling ever so sweetly. Wha? There's nothing up this bronzy's sleeves. Really!

D'baji might at least take comfort in the fact that he's got his reasons of being scared stiff, the proverbial herdbeast in front of the dragon. Nverath doesn't have a repertoire that doesn't involve those little ditties the bronze likes to make up, that certain barmaids like so much… Oh shards, barmaids. "R'ian," is hissed as he stares rather pointedly at a place on the floor not occupied by anyone's feet. "If your dragon wins, y'don't /have/ to go with the other rider, do you?" Because obviously someone who's also just learning all this ought to know so much better than he.
Lavinia blinks in from ::between::!

"Wine?" Lylia perks up, eyes glinting as she watches S'tuff. Wine? Winewinewine? Her glance twitches between staring up at the rider and staring down at the proffered drink. "Um… Yes, yes I /really/ could. But /he/ doesn't like it." And by pointing a slender finger vaguely in the direction of the pens, it seems that 'he' is probably Druseth. Bloody dragons.

K'nex comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Chayath> Chayath turns her attention from her lusty suitors to that one last kill that she must squeak in. Licking the last of the blood off of her mouth, she unfolds wings and launches into the air. Wingsails catch the wind, sending the small queen up into the air with a dancer's grace. Skillfully, she rises higher and higher, away from those below her. The summer sun glints red highlights off her earthen gold hide, making her glow even brighter than she should - like a smaller version of Rukbat.

G'deon follows the others at a distance, eyes already distant as he quietly declines an offer of wine from a fellow Inferno rider. Now that isn't quite normal, but he has his reasons, surely. The bronze rider finally spots Shaela again and gives a small, and rather odd smile, just watching curiously as he weaves his way over to her bit by bit, only taking his eyes off to give L'shil a wary nod. He'll leave words to the others and just watch for now.

"Uhh," says R'ian, hissing back to D'baji, his attention rather - distracted at the moment. "Probably." His eyes are rather full of Shaela: "Why wouldn't you want to?" Not, of course, that D'baji has any chance. Not if R'ian's here. He's the experienced one, after all. Isn't he? His feet are still rather attractive to his eyes, although it's a sweeping motion; Shaela, feet, Shaela, feet. Feet. - Shaela!

K'nex pokes his head in the entrance, and then scoots slowly and quietly around the wall hands spread out against the surface as he does so, staying a bit apart from the rest of the crowd that seems to have gathered. Shh, he's not here, you don't see him. Not that it's even really his idea to be here, but somehow he's here none-the-less. Better not to question that one though…

Chayath> …And seemingly in from nowhere a tawny-winged brown appears, having just had a whim of sorts to join in on all the activity. Shirasuth hovers in the air a little, pondering a decision on which animal to choose then -whump-, the brown takes a dive to neatly land on a herdbeast which instantly breaks its neck from the impact and kills it. Mine! The dragon makes a fairly neat chomp in the beast's neck, considering and all, and begins to suck at the blood almost as an afterthought.

* All dragons move up to Above High Reaches *

Chayath> So you go up, up, and up some more, spiralling past ledges and Star Stones and up past the very Spindles themselves.
Chayath> Above High Reaches
Chayath> Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
Chayath> It is a summer noon.

P'rru is slightly late, but that's easily explained by the flask held in one hand as he wobbles into the Ground Weyrs. "Shaela, Lylia my loves.." A bleary blink towards the riders before P'rruseeks the steadying support of one wall. "Looking gorgeous as always." And then the brownrider finds himself turning red and mutters as he turns back to his flask. Things were safer that way.

Shaela takes a long drink of the offered wine, finishing with a long, seductive lick of her lips. Mmm, deeelicious. "Really, you should all try this. It's fabulous." She babbles a touch, and tosses her hair back. She may not be the most feminine or sexual of women under ordinary circumstances, but under these circumstances.. well, anyone can play the stunning object of desire. Halloooo boys! Come and get it!

Chayath> Bralath's up after Chayath in a flash. Love lifts us up where we belong, after all; and he belongs far above the clouds so high, like a bronze dragon in the sky, floating to the sound of an old-fashioned lovesong, with Chayath. Great wings gather breezes to him, filaments of low-flying cloud draping their bronzen expanse, then scurried away as he soars higher. There ain't no sky large enough to keep him from you.

Chayath> Moranth springs into flight after his last meal; now begins the fun part. A lusty violet hue in his eyes is acceded by a deep, husky sensual growl as he rides upon thermal winds to pursue Chayath, the golden treasure which he quests for today. Flipping in a corkscrew maybe once, he quickly rights himself and sails upon thermal winds in chase.

Chayath> Nverath has his lightened hide all fueled up with some good beast-blood now, tinting his colours a semi-tone darker. And thus making him all the more the bouquet of manliness. Oh, and now for the chase! The crescendo of the activities, as it were… A sharp trill is directed towards the gold as his shoulders ripple, wings pumping with a liquid grace as he finds himself in a drunken swirling pursuit. Oh, and such anthems that could be sung of this! And a luminescent gold such as the beautiful Chayath certainly deserves a hymn of her own! First off, everything needs a bit of bass. He can add that with soft bursts of crooning. And the sounds of dragon wings do make a marvelous tremelo to layer a melody over…

G'deon simply laughs softly as he shakes his head a bit a Shaela's comment on the wine. "I think I could be quite content just watching you try it," he responds, winking quickly as an amused grin creases his slightly tanned face, though an almost smouldering light glimmers in his eyes. Whatever Shae's doing, it's working, not that the draconic influence hurts. He does look away, if just briefly, sizing up the other riders for a moment though he doesn't stir from his spot, crowded or not.

Chayath> Pilloeth is up like a… well, perhaps not a shot, but he makes a respectable showing. Wings catch at the air, propelling him up, up, like a shining… mudball. So brown isn't really the most poetic color. Long, slow wingstrokes are no match for Chayath's speed, nor for the more energetic of the suitors, but that suits him fine. Let the young ones tire themselves with shows of speed and acrobatics. He knows enough to bide his time. The hald-lidded violet facets of his eyes follow Chayath through the sky, content for now with a deceptively sleepy gaze and sluggish pace.

Chayath> Nylanth vaults into the air, his powerful hind limbs propelling him upward like a rocket before his great wings finally unfold, pumping strongly in hot pursuit of the gleaming red gold. The sun glints off the highlights in his night-dark hide, warming his blood further as he labors. The other chasers seem close around him, almost wingtip to wingtip, thundering in the clear noon sky, but his sights are set, and this bronzen soldier will not be moved from his mission.

Chayath> Tyrodinth is intent on the chase - the courtship - and he throws energy to his wings in the quest, not for speed, but for height. Height is the key, always. He may not be the frontrunner but he is higher than most of the pack, the noonday sun gilding his massive form and bring out echos of rubescent highlights across his wide wings.

Chayath> A few glazing drips of scarlet trickle into the wind, streaming from Druseth's dark-clad muzzle as he struggles to tame the thermals under his dusted wings. Here comes the sun… Aching in the blood-induced hunger, away from the loving breath of darkness, there's a faint spark of remembrance in his mind. Shiny. Yes, it's the shiny that he must possess. That will quench his hunger. With rosebud-light touches to the winds, he takes a sharp, upwards spiral. He's lookin' for a girl with kaleidoscope eyes…

Sc'arecrow takes his share of the wine with an appreciative wink-smile and an emphatic "Thank you!" He manages to spill some of it immediately however, as he bumps into a chair. Wiping uselessly at a brand new wet splotch on his shirt he does what comes naturally and plunks down in the chair. Wide eyes regard the gold rider from over his cup, and he takes a long gulp. A hand instinctively reaches for his right eyebrow, and he begins to play with a small burn scar there. Eyes shut and shoulders roll luxuriously, a gesture that he and his lifemate often share. When eyes are open again, he scans those nea4rest to him in the room, and spies… Aha. An energetic smile is turned on D'baji, and the brownrider rises with a bit of a twitch. "Hello. I'm Sc'arecrow… You're friends with Izz'y aren't you?"

R'zan is off in his own little world, it seems, eyes glinting weirdly in response to dragon-emotion, and instead of his affable demeanor, he has quickly dropped into a sort of… trance. Such is the method that his dragon tortures him with when Moranth is on the chase- and he sees nothing except what he focuses on. Shaela. Goldrider. Yes.

"Not that I don't /want/ to," D'baji interjects rather quickly towards R'ian, eyes falling onto Shaela, and ears reddening just a tad as he forces them to refocus on the wine. "Just, y'know… Don't want my remains scattered over my weyr… Nverath's not supposed to be flying after dragons he doesn't know." That last sentence a barely audible whisper as he hunches up his shoulders and sends his eyes downwards. Well, if 'Ver's got him looking at Shaela, why not her feet. Her feet aren't hardly as interesting as those other curvy bits… "Yes…" is awarded to Sc'arecrow, as the bronzerider attempts a step further back into the wall. "Why?" This one's a bit too -happy- for this time and this place, as for as Deba's concerned.

Chayath> Dsalth is a bit slower to gain altitude, but once he's up, he's fine. Stretching his wings as far as they'll go, he works all the kinks out and grunt-whuffles in appreciation that he's still 'got it'. The old brown might be older than some of these young dragons, but ol' Dsalth's not one to count out so easily.

Lylia is too afraid to focus on Shaela. Her experience has been one of 'look too long and the goldrider and she goes 'raaawr''. So there's a listless motion to her, fingertips tracing restlessly across the cold floor. The occasional gaze is tossed at R'zan, then drifting along to D'baji and R'ian. Too many men. Must… stay… away. Riiiight.

"Why not?" R'ian's not really paying any attention to D'baji, but he responds as if by force of habit. Lylia's glance, too, is caught, and met, but his gaze turns away rather rapidly; he's distracted. Not thinking. Feet. Ooh.

Chayath> Moranth is quick to gain altitude, but drops into a laaaaazy stroll. That's right. Slow, but quite maneuverable. Speed is not always your best friend. Gliding upon the thermals, he bides his time, deviating away from the chasing crowd just slightly and looking for shortcuts. He drops down a few feet and beats his wings a little to keep up with the gang, though not in their exact path of course.

P'rru continues his one on one conversation with the flask. Wine always made good conversation. More muttered words before he blinks and cradles the flask in the crook of one elbow. Gaze is lifted and directed at first Lylia and then Shaela before P'rru offers both a lopsided grin. And a leer. Cant forget the leer. "Dsalth, you bag of bones.." And P'rru is cursing his lifemate once more, struggling to resettle in his position on the wall while quickly turning away from Lylia and Shaela.

Chayath> Shirasuth is a bit slow on the uptake, mind obviously somewhere else today, and the slight pause from when everyone else springs up, and when he does causes him to find himself a little behind. Golden wings pump furiously, catching hold of thermals now and again, as the brown attempts to catch up, feeling a bit awkward, like a shy boy trying to talk to a girl he thinks is cute, at having to catch up. Quiet planning and plotting though tend to agree with the ruddy brown unlike some of the more flamboyant displays of the other dragons, and he does his best to catch up.

Chayath> Chayath flies higher and higher until she feels the need to twist and turn out of the grasp of an over-eager bronze who thought to just snatch her. She is not the snatching kind, rather she must be won with trinkets and fluff words. Scarlet outlines wings as they catch the skeins of air as muscles play across bone and sinew, causing hide to flow in a river of earthen gold. Grace embodied while in the sky, High Reaches smallest gold sweeps up from her downswing to fly higher into the sky.

Woah. Blink back into reality, boy; Shaela's not the only one in the room, you know. Blinking his eyes once, brownrider R'zan scans the room and scootches a mite closer to the crowd. He seems to stagger, almost, though; his dragon keeps making him blink out of it, and he appears nearly drunk from the effect. He leans against a wall and sips at his glass of wine slowly so as not to spill.

Chayath> Light and crisp, Brainth floats high into the air with little effort. A light burning sensation licks through him as he shoots upwards. Unlike chasing greens, he can't take the tactic of flying above and trying to match acrobatics, in all honesty he can hardly keep up as is. Therefore he abbandons himself to the chase. Still, riding on habit, he swings to the side slightly and has a fairly good view of the field. There they are, all flung after her, the portrait that means romance more than anything to a dragon. The splotches of dark madly careening after a bright mote of sunlight. The thought of the picture they make is lofted towards the gold, an offering perhaps, or as close as Brainth can give.

Chayath> The wind beneath Bralath's wings is hardly noticable, for the bronze is pushing onwards with sheer force of movement, working overtime to gush after Chayath; hers may be a lonely road, now, but it will not be, for Bralath - who is not acting like a fool, love besides - is rather intent on getting near enough to have and to hold, until…the ground do they part. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet: it's Chayath he wants, in this ode to a queen as beautiful as a grecian urn.

Chayath> Moranth tries his next tactic, though one he is apt to frown upon much of the time; so he begins warbling ever-so quietly, winking his violet-chased eyes towards the autumnal-gold Chayath, mentally complimenting her on how well the red streams chase the gold of her hide. He's not one to lavish, but rather compliment with a suave attitude. Winging his way forth, he bides his time, mentally drawing on his rider's overimaginative mind for more.

Chayath> Tyrodinth clings to height, catching a thermal to give him a moments extra lift. Always, his gaze remains on Chayath, fascinated by the play of golden light and vermillion. Indeed, he's fascinated enough to stray into sky-danceing, displaying all that he offers - himself. Words are not his forte although he releases a soft harmony into the winds, seeking to charm, to enchant and to woo.

Shaela slips off her perch - think they'll notice? - and begins moving about the room, brushing up past this rider, squeezing between those other two… some make grabs for her, but she dances neatly away from them. Her size is an advantage in this case, for despite all the sweaty, lust-crazed bodies, she's tiny enough to slip through their fingers.. until she and Chayath are won over by the affections of a rider and his lifemate.

Chayath> Nverath allows a somewhat impressed note to creep into his bass line for the Twists of Chayath. Perhaps he ought to entitle his song that? Small little bronze he is though, and the thought of being caught up in a whole bunch of big lusty bronzes is hardly a good one. So, narrow wings are dipped, and he pours down to fly generally under the main crowd, not unlike the line he's injecting into the song. A song which needs a melody… Something airy, something that goes neatly overtop… And his attention on Chayath doubles.

Chayath> Caramel wings glisten under the day's light, snapping and wrenching as Druseth pulses upwards, seductive butter pecan haunches tight, and the primal, dark chocolate muzzle tilted into the wind. A breath of wind carries over his wings, letting him ride higher, wiry form twisting. Writhing in odd elegance, a low hum escapes from the ruby-smeared throat, a serenade's call from the poorly voiced. Up, glancing blows against the wind. After the glinting gold that blazes against the sky, a far-off gem that only makes his blood-soaked brain scream 'want'.

Chayath> The smallest fruit is often the sweetest, the smallest box may hold the most spectacular treasure, and so it is, even with golds. Pilloeth starts his moves amongst the other males, the finesse of practice giving economy to mis movements. A lazy twist of a wing, and he dodges under this bronze. A twist of his spine, and he slide under another brown's wings, ever closer to that shining ray known as Chayath. No trinkets has he to offer, and his crooning notes are lost on the wind of his wings and other wings, but the intent is there. Not flashy, not the biggest, not the fastest, but quiet confidence shows his lack of worry at not being the closest to the gold.

Chayath> Nylanth seeks not to snatch. He aspires to greater heights, beginning to distance himself from the pack with strong downward beats of his broad wings. To woo this beauty would indeed be sweet, but first he must prove himself worthy. At last he breaks free of the pack, rising up in a sweeping arc that makes the most of his impressive mass, starlight glistening in the night-dark bronze of his hide, warm burgundy beginning to slide into his thoughts, sparking flickering firelight. If he can win this day, he shall have that night to give her. And so he pursues.

"P'rruuuuu." Lylia gives a contented, purring acknowledgement to the other brownrider. Wow. Huh. She didn't notice that. Musta been too caught up in the glory of the ground and all its… ground-ness. "G-g'day," she manages to chirp, a little shaky as she suddenly feels a little… hungry. And shards, that P'rru has a tasty-looking neck. Mmmm. Fleeesh. Druseth's really a horrid influence.

But Shaela is the one to be wooed, and therefore G'deon's goal at hand. And the goal is moving. He blinks once as a somewhat disappointed look flits across his face, then leans back against the table Shaela just left. He does accept a glass of wine this time, though he never takes so much as a whiff, gingerly holding it in his hand, quite forgotten. Sky blue eyes scan the area once more, cooling taking into account the group of riders with a sinking feeling. "Just do your best, Nyls," he mutters to himself, eyes unfocusing as he concentrates on something else.

Chayath> Shirasuth has plenty of trinkets and such in his weyr. All different colors, some rough, some shiny, some even sparkely! Yes…but one would have to be able to appreciate the beauty of rocks to /really/ like them. The ruddy brown, the color of cherry flavored chocolate, blazes after the gold, his mind working feverishly to focus on his Plan and the gold at the same time. Finding thermals comes naturally to him though, as does knowing what phases the moons are in, and he continues after in a rush, gold wings glinting.

R'zan is lustier than usual in the other flights he partakes in- perhaps this is his dragon's first gold flight? Eerily, his eyes rest on Shaela, deep blue orbs trickling down from her head to her feet, flowing upon every nuance of the goldrider. He quells this feeling with another sip of wine. No, he will not. Extending a nod toward Lylia, he bothers to introduce himself. "G'day. I'm R'zan." That is all he speaks during flights, for the most part. He's virtually speechless.

K'nex is still clinging to the wall, body pressed rather tightly against it as if he's trying his very best to blend in with the rock. Not something easily done, really, but the brownrider is trying his hardest. He's also all but ignoring the coversations, hearing but not really thinking about what anyone is saying…or not saying, and the wine is most definantly ignored. Even Shaela isn't really being paid attention to. He's not trying to 'woo' or 'lust' of anyone right now, just be invisible.

Chayath> Chayath collapses wings against her back allowing her red-hued form to fall toward the earth. As of yet, her chocolate trinkets haven't fallen from the sky to woo her feminine soul - or she hasn't seen them yet. Suitors are flirted with as the petite gold folds out her wings to catch the wind again, flying far and fast. A dancer in a daydream, she twines her own romantic notions in her flight patterns.

Sc'arecrow is quite ignorant enough to completely miss the fact that D'baji is moving away from him, and turns his back to the wall, and procedes to lean against it, fairly close to the bronzer. "Oh, Izz'y's in my wing, he's just great don't you think… Me and him and Nua and Brainth all go draggie-surfing together… I think on of the Reaches riders taught him that…. But I'm often wrong. You really should come with us sometime… I've heard very good things about you." As he chatters, the brownrider's face goes through quite remarkable gymnastics, his mouth forming exagerated vowels and his eyebrows moving almost constantly.

Chayath> Moranth's weyr is not littered with trinkets, no, but by Faranth he will find one for Chayath if he manages to catch her, of course. So he continues with the compliments, gradually building on them to more poetic things, like the sparkle in her eyes against the sun, her hide's warm gleam, and purty things like that. Winging his way along, his chocolate hide gleams- sparkling /just/ right in the sky to make it look almost tasty!

D'baji downright scowls at R'ian. Why not indeed… "Because having your remains scattered usually means that there /are/ remains?" He pauses to gawk at the goldrider's legs just a bit more. Shells, his attention's moving up again. "Though she's got nice enough feet." When all else fails, stick to what you know, and all. So of course, eyes close rather firmly after he's made that comment. The gold is Nverath's territory, he doesn't want to cross the line. And really there are about as many lines here as a sappy love song. Or a hop scotch type idea. Or… Somethin'. "Oh, surfing, really?" is asked of Sc'arecrow. "Good that you've heard good, I suppose…" And then thwack, it's a mood change, and eyes are opened and laid on the facially flexible brownrider, along with a wicked little grin. "So do tell me about this dragon surfing… What's it involve?" Uh oh, he's starting to feel social…

R'ian goes silent. He's given up on D'baji; he doesn't understand the poor guy. Instead, he stares, outright, at Shaela. A hundred and one, pounds of fun - that's his little Shaela-bun.

"That it is Lylia. " A wink towards her from P'rru as he lifts his flask, tipping it towards her before bringing it back to his lips and taking a long drink. "Especially since I'm in the company of two fine ladies like yourself and..Shaela." Eyes switch from Lylia to follow Shaela as she moves past, and he continues to watch the smaller Rider. "G'day indeed.."

Chayath senses Bralath seeks - /feels/. His mind, your mind, touching, delving, /thinking/. Softly, molten red and orange envelop his thoughts, which twine in turn; together, you and him?

Chayath> Nverath has no trinkets, alas, unless you count the pon (not a pan, not a pot, but a mix of both, and more pot than pan) hanging on the wall of his and his rider's weyr… Ah, and his flower amidst the desert of the sky, 'his' Chayath, is dropping, and he, Nverath, is underneath the main fray of dragons. So the melody will obviously have to drop to a minor part here, as do his bass notes, his crooning, and himself, folding into a slow dive with all but his tail held perfectly straight. But his tail must keep time to his ballad…

Chayath> He'll be your dream, he'll be your wish, he'll be your fantasy. Druseth is the coal-encrusted diamond, the pretty pink coral bracelet lost in the murky, muddy depths of a river. He's the sweet little teddy bear with holding a red heart, that happens to have fangs and rip out throats. Such is life. The wearying smear of shadowed sepia takes note in some part of his mind as Chayath shifts directions, and barely a thought flitters in his mind before his wings react, slipping down against him as he takes a slight corscrew downwards, flaring the sun-scorched 'sails for a dizzying rise back up. Ever minding the flash of gold, doused in phoenix-fire, that's igniting the ashes of his own undead heart. The feral craving - the side he so denies - has arisen, consumed.

Chayath> Nylanth hovers silently, molten eyes glowing as he follows Chayath's patterns, his own slowing to a gentle crawl before he too folds bronzen wings to body to drop glistening towards the ground, if only for a moment. His trinkets are not always of tangible things, but of soft, salty herdbeasts and wherry wings.

Shaela's mind may be muddled by draconic impulses, and her vision may be impaired as it alternates between the her lifemate's and her own, but she can quite clearly tell that not everyone is giving her the attention she deserves. She bends down to floor-level, and with her finger trails lightly up the arm of one brownrider, finishing off with a teasing ear-nibble. "Come now, Lylia. Have a little fun," she urges, before wandering off to toy with another rider. "Issssssstan," she hisses, setting herself upon R'ian.

R'ian eeps. Well; rather, he stands up straighter, peering at Shaela with a gaze that's rather more confused than comfortable. "Issstan? Oh! Istan, yes. I'm from Ista. Lovely place." He babbles, and then goes, very suddenly, silent. She's rather intimidating for this particular weyrling, who backs up rather suddenly, nearly tripping over his feet.

Chayath> Tyrodinth dips, twists and turns as he dances through the winds, falling into a dive. Now he trades height for speed, raceing to outpace the his rivals and display to his beloved golden Chayath. Chocolate? He is not. He's darker than that, sunlit until mahogany glows with gilt and ebon is lit with Titian flames. Spice instead of sugar and all for her.

"Me?" And Lylia gives a coy little flutter of the 'lashes at P'rru. Little ol' /her/? Awww. This is why brownriders are loved. "I'm Lyliaaa," the brownrider responds, rolling the 'a' over her tounge with a slight smirk as her gaze once more shifts of a nice little sight. "R'zan? Well met, indeed - " But she cuts off, owlish eyes wide as Shaela approaches. "Um. I'm fine. I… Um… Eeeeek," escapes her, along with a relieved, short exhales as Shaela passes on to another rider. Goldriders. In this situation… be afraid, be very afraid.

Chayath> Brainth nearly falls out of the sky, in a reasonably uncharacteristic manner. In his everyday life he's really a quite down to earth. That little twist and dive thing is quite breath taking on such a small but bright creature. Really the pale brown thinks, she must be quite unique, something special… And so logical that she would want something special… Brain is turned back on by the pure intensity of his wanting her. Mind scrambles and calculates what on pern he could give her, while unwittingly the brown's body begins to follow her trail in the sky, and then inverts it, a dance he's more familiar with and which he /could/ lead, given the chance… Perhaps.

Chayath> Moranth abruptly folds giant brown wings and starts into a freefall, though he uses his tail to swish around gently and spiral around the group instead of straight down. His trinkets are intangible, more of love and desire than mere material objects. Such is not worthy of Chayath the Golden Maiden. Chocolatey brown hide brightens gently as he falls quite lazily in a similar path, wings poised to straighten out and fly lest the gold change course

Chayath> Shirasuth simply blinks at first as Chayath makes a rather sudden dive, but his mind works quickly and he too folds his wings against his body to dive down somewhat resembling a chocolate covered strawberry that calls to you from behind the counter, partially wrapped gold foil offering a teasing view of the treat. Then the image is over as Shira's wings shoot out again to catch the air, arching slightly as the brown follows.

Chayath> Bralath is a heart full of love - a heart full of song, and he's doing everything all wrong. Diving downwards, form molten in sky's embrace, his rippled wingsails carry him lower, swirling and weaving in his pattern of metallic beauty; like a necklace, to fasten about Chayath's neck, a gift from above. His is a love beyond all time, a tale as old as time, a bronze falling in the east, flying - leaping.

G'deon's knees begin to bend a little as G'deon follows his dragon's actions and droops gently towards the ground. But catching himself, he blinks back to his own surroundings back down on the solid ground. Peering down at the wine glass in his hand, the bronze rider suddenly frowns and glances about, holding it out to the nearest rider. "Care for some wine?" he asks with a pasted on smile, meant to be charming, but most likely frightening. "I just don't have the stomach for it today." Then he goes back to brooding quietly, blue eyes flashing with a hint of lightning as they fall on Shaela and Lylia.

D'baji swallows. Hard. First she's going towards the floor, where he'd ben looking, and now she's near R'ian. And he's nearish R'ian. So D'baji will happily scooch closer to Sc'arecrow with a nervous little grin to the rider. Yes, he may be starting to socialize more, but still, not with females. Not yet. Eyes drift over towards Yiddae. And ceratinly it won't be the big and impressive goldrider he'd go after first.

Chayath> This is what Pilloeth knew would come. A deft twist, and he slides between and beneath two bronzes, letting himself drop in pursuit of the queen. No chocolate trinkets, perhaps, but his lifemate /has/ been stocking up on sweets in an effort to placate Sasha. Perhaps those would do? He pulls up before Chayath does, wings suddenly picking up speed, instinct telling him that the time for sparing himself is gone. Crooning dragonsong fills the sky, and his is indistinguishable from the rest, but as his wings beat in an attempt to close the distance between himself and Chayath, one can only hope that he, at least, is distinguishable from the mass of male dragons.

Yiddae is perfectly contented to just hide in the shadows, mind far away with Tyrodinth and images of Shaela - memories too! - dance in front of her eyes. No, she'll wait until Chayath is caught before she moves.

R'zan's emotions whirl from lust to coldheartedness, but it is not apparent in the way the man carries himself; he appears more self-assured on the outside. Brownrider runs another hand through his hair in a rather feeble attempt to look sexy, but it most likely doesn't work.

Chayath> Chayath dances and twirls, taking her time in finding the right suitor. Who shall come and dance with her? Who's gift will sweep her into their wings? Strength is flagging as the bright earthen golds dull into antiquate honey with scarlet overtones. Sing to me of dreams, her body calls, sing to me the soft, poetic words of the romantic. The key is who will be the one who has the sugary candy heart labeled, 'Be Mine'?

K'nex doesn't need to be warned to be afraid, certaintly. He already is. Hence why he is determined to do his best darn imiation of the wall as he can. Makes a lovely wall, doesn't he? Quiet, tall, just sort of there…Great wall. Kez is definantly glad he isn't part of the main 'group' as he half-watches everyone. They're all a little scary.

Chayath senses Bralath's mind - once more - invades; thoughtful, thinking, deep. Be /his/. »

Chayath> Dsalth has the greatest trinket in the world. Everyone knew he had a heart of gold. What better a gift then that? And it is Chayaths for the taking. Wings fan the air as the brown steadily gains ground. He may be a little older then the rest, but that's what makes him great. Things get better with age. Or so Dsalth likes to think. Chayath's sleek form is steadily watched as Dsalth sets his focus on that one beauteous form. A small warble towards her is also given as his neck is extended forwards, his all is in this flight

Chayath thinks to you, « I bespoke Bralath with: Chayath's velvety feel slides across the link before the allusive gold disappears into the ether, leaving behind only the romantic longing. »

Chayath> Moranth would gladly be Chayath's… if only she would be his as well. He's a believer in mutual love, at least in flights, and he spirals around the group, this time directing his tail so he swivels around to approach Chayath, lusty indigo-violet eyes focused on his target of desire. His eyes close momentarily in focus, and then open again, this time with a slightly more red-violet edge. Now he's in full chase mode.

Chayath> As long as the moon can keep on shining, and the sun keeps hanging in the sky, Bralath will chase for Chayath's grace, soaring after her glorious path as the bobbing balloon, and the basket of roses. Chantilly lace, a pretty face - her diamond, if that is her best friend. Ay me, sad moments seem long, for summer's lease hath all too short a date - and forever is too long.

Shaela isn't intimidating! At least, not size-wise. But… well, she's a rather experienced lady. "Aww, and just a young thing, too." She tosses a teenager-in-love giggle at R'ian before she turns her deep-blue-I-get-lost-in-your eyes in another direction. Mm, G'deon. The Weyrleader gets a moment's notice in a teasing wink, but that is all for now.. she's set her mind on making Yiddae nervous.

Sc'arecrow closes long lashes slightly, and turns a look towards the goldrider, as she gets fairly close. Brainth /does/ have a point…. But then his eyes snap back to the bronzerider, who has moved closer. Appearantly he's fairly well behaved… And has creative uses for hair dyes… Sounds like someone Sca wants to get to know better. He shifts slightly to better be able to talk to D'baji, and one hand goes to the wall, a little ahead of him, so that he can still lean. "Oh yes… Surfing is really a lot of fun, if your dragon likes water. When you start out you have a bit of a strap around your waist that attatches to the riding straps as usual… Or you can try to do it without, but it's harder to balance. And you sort of stand up and let the dragon ride the waves in…" He realizes that his explanation is sort of lacking important parts, and he laughs, shaking his head and leaning a little forward, "Of course, you have to be out in the water first… And there have to be waves and stuff." Following this he trips, appearantly on thin air, and topples forward, quite out of control. Probably the effect of trying to talk and stare elsewhere at the same time.

R'ian flushes scarlet, as he is wont to do, and shuts his eyes rather rapidly, a sigh of relief heaved as Shaela's gaze turns away from him - and on to soemone who can probably deal with it better than he. Breath deepens, hastens, his eyes suddenly widening, as Bralath's time comes near. "/Go/!"

Chayath> Nylanth croons ever so softly, the sound whipped away instantaneously in the wind. But no matter, it was a mere trifle as the bronze concentrates intensely on folding his wings just so, dipping, then twirling to the side, reckless and yet graceful in this airborn ballet, a waltz for two but still with too many suitors. Muscles strain as he slides this way and that, trying the last of his reserves in order to woo this lady for one last dance while the sun still adds its own touch of gold, no matter how much the dancing queens luster dims in the flight.

Chayath> Ah, the song's been dragged on rather long enough. And now to near the end, and such a symphony as this could hardly be ended with a soft little sputter. No, let us pick up the pace! The tremelo of wings has stayed steady enough, and he flaps his just a bit faster to spiral towards the end. Jaw is snapped in time, tail thrashing as much as it can without throwing the young bronze too far off, and croons are injected, and it's nearly a chaos, his song mingled with those that the others are making as well. And his muse, if only he could attain her… But liquidity of movement will only do so much for so little a bronze, and he'd need the luck of the stars on his side as well. But, what is love, if not a horribly lucky meeting?

Chayath> Druseth has two left feet and a voice of rather unspectacular quality, yet he can give but the blood racing in his veins and the dark, unyeilding passion that burns, slaves as a fire crackling into the night sky. He can give the rose and its thorns over the sugary sweetness, the wild night of running 'cross beaches under glimmering moonlight over boorish dinners. Always the blood in his breath, the shadow-flicker soars up with a feral growl throbbing from his throat, burning into the wind. Upwards! Daffodils can wilt, but the nightblooming rose carries upwards, one gleaming goal in his mind.

Chayath> Tyrodinth snaps out of his dive, spiraling before throwing his heart into this plea. He's hers. Never mind that he's the chaser, in this he is hers - her devoted, adoreing suitor speaking wordlessly with his eyes as he offers a dream of fiery passion fit for the queen she is. Honey she is, darkness he is and he'll strip the thorns off each and every rose for her and slip in candied cherries with chocolate liquer to tempt his darling.

Chayath> Pilloeth is sure he has one of those back in the weyr. A whole bag of the little hearts, sugary as anyone could wish. He shadows the moves of Chayath's dance, keeping tempo with her, but never quite moves exaclty as she does. For dance is an expression of one's self, and his steps are his own - hopefully to come together with Chayath's, to merge into one, but until then, he must dance his own dance. A shadow above, he maintains his altitude above her even through the complicated twists and loops and bends of the dance, never anticipating, but no longer lagging. Ah, the dance. The song. The little candy hearts. Sweet romance.

G'deon begins to frown softly as he struggles to keep his mind separate from that of his lifemate's, but alas, the bond becomes all to strong at moments like these, the rider straightening as blue eyes turn a stormy grey. Rather than tensing, however, he takes on a rather fluid stance, ready to move in an instant should the moment require such action.

Shaela purses her lips and plants one right on the crown of the Southern brownrider's head. "Remember.." is all she really needs to say, and then it hits her. She's… tired? No! There's still so much fun to be had! But.. no, it's more difficult now to wind her way from the clutching and grabbing hands of the crowd, and in a last-ditch effort, she steps back.. and hits the wall. It's coming to the end, the last dance is at hand - oh, if only this night could last forever!

D'baji blinks at the brownrider. Yes, Yiddae was much more interesting. "'Ver likes water, sure… Oh, straps… Well, if you can swim it'd be alright eh?" And now to cast a glance towards every single one of them females… A slightly concerned blink for the goldrider having Sc'arecrows tripping catching him rather off guard. So D'baji ends up plastered against the wall. With a brownrider in his arms. Well, not that bad of an outcome for the flight, eh? If only the brownrider was a she, cause really, those are such pretty nearly-green eyes…

Yiddae blinks, seeing Shaela closer that she was and for a long few moments, her fair skin blushes hotly as lust overlays a dozen different views over reality. "I remember." she manages dazedly, flattening her own hands against the wall as she forces herself to turn her head away and remember it isn't that time so many turns ago.

Chayath> Shirasuth does a bit of twisting and turning too trying to catch up to the Dancing Queen. Although his grace holds true despite his rather large bulk, and he is able to perform the manuevers without even thinking about it. If he is tired, he certaitnly isn't showing it as he continues along, relentless in his persuit. Then all caution is thrown to the wind as the brown lets out a deep long croon, humming a bit to his own tune and dancing to a different beat.

Chayath> Brainth beats his wings in an increasingly frantic rythm, somewhat like the beating of his heart. With the most speed his light form can muster, the smallish brown shoots in a spiral trying to get nearer the breathtakingly beautiful gold. He would very much like to be allowed this dance, he's practiced so hard, he really has. And his gift, the token that begs her to he his 'one'… Only himself, a weave of wicker and straw, tied into knots by this love inside him. He's carefully clipped at the corners and finished neatly and despite any faults, he is beautiful in his own way… Isn't he?

R'zan summons his strength, trying not to burst out in all manner of lust-crazed oddity, though his dragon may have taken his mind for this moment. His eyes glow oddly as his gaze is now focused on The One: Shaela. What else surpasses his emotion at the moment?

P'rru will give a slight frown as one thought or another crosses his mind, before an upwards gaze towards Shaela is taken, to which point he'll finally blush. He's full of that radiant red tonight. And it's not the wine either. Eyes cloud over for a moment as he once more curses the brown in the skies before he offers a smile, more towards himself or some inner thoughts. Mumbling words are then drowned out by a rather healthy dose of wine from the flask. Shaela's movements are caught, as she steps back. No movements are made to grab, rather a steadying hand. "Shaela love, you alright there?" And a red-eyed glance is given towards the Goldrider, his flask still tightly clasped in the crook of his left arm.

Chayath> Chayath finds the dancer in her daydream, even if he does have two left feet. Wings fold back and allows her to fall into Druseth's embarace as she is finally woo'd into being captured. Her valentine: Druseth, her very own chocolate morsel. Down they fall as tails entwine…

Chayath> Bralath's surprise is evident: his horror is equally so. His rumble is outraged, his tail turned in disgust - but suppose that's all an act, and it's probably just minor disappointment.

R'ian yelps, ducks, and makes a run for it. Weyrling is apparently thanking his lucky stars that he got out of here alive.
R'ian leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.

Chayath> Moranth spies Druseth catch, and wings his way aloft once more, away from the romance ensuing. He is not fazed by it, maybe slightly miffed, but easily, he wings his way away to tell his rider it's time to go home.

Chayath> Bralath drops lower into the Weyr's caldera.

Chayath> Tyrodinth suddenly disappears ::between::!

"Me? I'm …" Shaela's voice cracks slightly, then cuts out. "Oh," she says softly, "I feel … fine." Baby's good to me, you know, I'm happy as can be, and all that jazz. Somehow she finds Lylia among them all, and all is made complete.

Chayath> Pilloeth goes home.

Chayath> Nverath gives a contented purr of sorts as the gold and brown fall together, tinged with only a hint of wistful jealousy. Because really, what better a way to end a tune than with a happy chord of sorts?

Hey now…K'nex is the one playing wall here. And he's not sharing, so there. The brownrider suddenly detaches himself- Didn't know he was there, did you? -and makes a run for the exit.
K'nex leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.

Chayath> Druseth is tasty, indeed. Wiry tail coils around his protected prize, his precious, and surrender is given to all that is dark and sweet, all that is forbidden and craved. Blood seems quite not so sweet and this touch….

Rich, earthen golds wrap this dragon in the dusky mystery of her heritage: rivulets of wine-red passions swirl with wild abandon over her pugnacious headknobs and dissipate like laughter into the citrine hues twining a slender, drunken tail. Firelight licks her chest, a distraction from its uncommonly narrow width and the weedy lengths of legs and talons all darkened with greeny purples. Her wings are sparse, almost ragged, despite the once-decadent embroidery that etches stolen gold along those crimson, oh-so-fragile sails.
Chayath is 12 Turns, 4 months, and 13 days old.
She is 72 feet (24m) long, with a wingspan of 120 feet (40m).

Night descends on the dragon's pale, buff hide, to cast shadows over the majority of the ghostly surface. Scarlet splatters his muzzle, blood-red smears his neck; faded tan lingers amongst the shades of his torso, darkening the great hills that are blunt neckridges and settling upon an elongated tail. Mystery and intrigue reign amidst his complexity of razor talons and sharp teeth, yet a softer side is revealed in the sandy glistening of sweeping wings. Innocence too is evident in the serene sunlight-touched beige of his headknobs, abstaining from the drunken revelry that otherwise makes for fanged, feral ferocity.
Shades of midnight solidify as dark blue leather, carefully stitched as sturdy riding straps for the brown. Ripples of violet and forest green seem to blend in with the dyed blue, hints every here and there. The leather is soft and supple, well-fitted to the dragon's hide, and occasional spots show patches of lambskin sewn to increase the comfort for Druseth. Moonlight glints, the steel buckle in the front being well polished, if nearly lost in the dark colors of the straps and hide.
Druseth is 10 Turns, 6 months, and 10 days old.
He is 62 feet (20m) long, with a wingspan of 103 feet (34m).

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