Chayath's mating flight

February 22nd 2004
Logged by Shaela

SHAELA'S COMMENTS: Shaela and L'shil stayed in their weyr to do their own thing, so I sent her half-sister, Taesha (Catia and T'vim's daughter), to join the festivities on the beach. Her brown Ngeth is one of Chayath's sons from Chayath's last PC clutch.

Taesha> Beach
Taesha> Ancient dunes have been flattened by the endless parade of people and dragons that tramp northwest across the bowl, leaving a mere skiff of sand here along lake's beaten edge. Footprints litter the curve of beach, some left turns ago and caught frozen in the heavy clay earth near the water's edge. As the sun sets, shadows invade, creeping like fingers across the gently sloping ground and darkening the distant ledges on the far side of the lake.
Taesha> To the north, dust rises from the redolent pens while the flattened disc of the main bowl is just a step to the northwest.
Taesha> It is a summer noon.
Taesha> Brown Skeseth, blue Braezyth, and bronze Nylanth are here.
Taesha> Elyisabet, G'deon, and L'uc are here.

Freshened breezes from the lake to the south mingle with the stronger scents of herdbeast, wherry, dust and dung, that fill this elliptical enclosure, a faint odor wafting over now and then from the tannery on the far eastern side of the pens. A sturdy fence winds out towards the central bowl, captures an outlet of clear blue lake, and grows into a stout wind-shelter replete with hay and feeding troughs as it meets the bowl wall. Not too far above, a claw-marked series of feeding ledges lie, decorated by a few discarded and bleached-out bones. A few clusters of green sprout, downtrodden, in the hard ground, tracked over by the stampeding of the herds.
Bronze Jydhaeth is here.

Taesha> G'deon is standing a good deal back from the water with arms crossed as he watches his lifemate make a good deal of splashing in the water. This would explain why he's standing so far back, of course. Nylanth is obviously enjoying himself, ducking beneath the water for minutes at a time before resurfacing and sending water in all directions with his fanning wings.

Taesha> "Hold still now. Don't move." L'uc says to his bond. Standing In the water, the 'rider attempts to scrub Jydhaeth clean since he hasn't had a good wash in sevendays. The bronze rumbles and is also in the water when people arrive on the beach. "Jyd. Concentrate?" They go through this every time and it's nothing new. L'uc, for the moment is dressed in his swim trunks and currently standing in water that's waist deep. "You can join Nylanth later." But, Jyd seems to be overly antsy for some reason.

<High Reaches Weyr> Chayath senses that she rustles, rust-red in her awakening. No words, just thought: she extends tendrils of wine and crimson as a come-hither beckoning, then fades away with the twinkling of bells. Chayath is awake. Chayath is /alive./

Chayath drops in from above; beasts scatter. Wiser than they look, aren't they?

Druseth glances about watchfully, slowly slinking in from the Central Bowl.
Uzasnyth glides in from the Central Bowl.
Minoyath steps with stately stride in from the Beach.

Taesha> Nylanth perks up at Jydhaeth's antsy energy and starts to paddle towards shore, when suddenly he stops, feet barely touching the lake's bottom while the bronze cocks his head, listening. Is that a bit more sparkle to his large, faceted eyes? And a bit more red? Yes, indeed. The dragon begins to head up the lake towards the beach where he gives a mighty shake, sending water flying. Particularly in the direction of his doting lifemate, G'deon. However, the bronze has little time to dote back right now, as he continues stalking towards the pens, looking rather intent.

Nylanth stealthily saunters in from the Beach.

You sense that Chayath does not forget you. Never you. Here, her contact is intimate, as always: a heady rush of darkest wine, rich, lush, and exotic. She lilts and teases. Are you ready for this?

Taesha> L'uc attempts to reach upward and start scrubbing his bond's hide, but, Jydhaeth seems elsewhere. Rumbling anxiously, the bronze starts to trek towards land. "Hey, where are you going?" A surprised L'uc stands there, waist deep in the water, as the dragon starts to send waves his way. "Jyd? /Jyd/?" Apparently he's not getting any response mentally, so, the 'rider just stands there in the water. Jydhaeth, on the other hand, is quite certain of where he is going.

Jydhaeth treks with nobility and lanky gait in from the Beach.

It takes mere seconds for Chayath to obtain her first beast. It goes down in a frenzy of ripping claws and screams, but the gold herself is silent as she dips her head to feast, aware of the other dragons gathered around but ignoring them in favor of her prey. Chayath's radiance does more than simply add that extra glow to her fire-bright hide. Unavoidable, inescapable, grounded in time and space with the innate knowledge of self - Chayath is larger than life.

Taesha> G'deon starts to give a shout of protest as half of his freshly laundered outfit is now soaking wet, but as he catches the undertones in his dragon's thoughts, Gid just gives a wicked half smile and runs a hand through his newly damp hair. "Maybe it won't be another dull summer day, eh?" he calls over to L'uc while rubbing his hands together… and noticing they're wet, he starts to dry them off on his equally wet pants. He'll just try the backside instead. There we go.

Somerseth croons as he comes down to land in the pens, bronze hide gleaming in the cold winter sun. He bugles a cry as he notices Chayath, snapping out at a herdbeast that comes within range. He snags it in his giant maw, shaking the beast until it's still before dropping it to the floor and piercing it's neck with his teeth, lowering his muzzle to lap up the scarlet lifeblood that emerges from the wound.

Taesha> M'nty has just thumped his way onto the beach rather disconsolately. He's been getting weird vibes from Minoyath all day, but the sharding dragon hasn't been dishing the gossip. A small wineskin is in hand, just because it would be spiffynice to lay in the sand and just kinda of… soak up whatever sun happens to be there…. However, instead he wanders over towards L'uc and Gideon, eyeing the wet pants with curiosity. "Something seems to be turning interesting…" M'nty's only ever been in a few of these before. Experience always picks up on these before the young ones know what's going on, right? And M'nty counts as a young one.

Patience is the name of the game. Perhaps it's a sign of age, but Druseth takes his time slinking into the pens, his whirling eyes sedately selecting that one beast that looks particularly plump. He can smell the blood, even with the yawning distance between. Lazily, he takes off, quickly swooping down on the prey of choice, a rather decent distance from Chayath. He's just observing now, a slow gameplan being formed. Hot blood bubbles, seeping down his throat and splashing across his muzzle. Its death-cry cut off, the beast sinks to the ground, like a rag doll. Mmm. Tasty.

Nylanth immediately launches into the air once he leaves the beast, circling low around the pens until the poor beasts are driven into even more of a frenzy. The dark bronze hovers a moment, watching Chayath silently. Then, without another moment's thought, he dives for a likely looking herdbeast, exceeding in efficiency as he snaps the thing's neck and takes it a little ways off to blood, his large eyes quickly changing to match the hue of the recently bounding herdbeast's blood. And all the while, he watches the glowing gold, paying little attention to any of the other dragons.

Piccath bugles in praise of his weyrmate, and launches down to the pens to nab a healthy young herdbeast. There is some delay in this action, as instinct kicks in belatedly to distract him from his personal preferenceof simply observing the lovely Chayath from a high-up ledge.

Uzasnyth, on a brief vacation from Southern Weyr, is glad to be back in the vicinity for the pursuit of his dear aunt Chayath - and this is the best part. The junglecat of a dragon stealthily approaches his subject, paws stretching far in front of his body as he pulls himself forward, stalking the unlucky herdbeast choice of the day - and then pounce! the beast is in his grasp and its entire body is sliced, not just the neck, by signature Uza-teeth. Blood and guts, anyone?

Jydhaeth shall not create a huge mess out of this, since it's clearly not his nature to. Everyone knows that noble and poetic dragons, such as himself, don't do such vulgar actions. But, this might be the exception to the rule. Rumbling lowly and springing into the air, he immediately comes down on a beast and sinks his teeth into its warm flesh. Blood oozes and the bronze pauses for a moment until this animal is no more.

Pfensieth slinks into the pens, almost lazy in his motions. His whirling gaze contrasts sharply with his movements; it is swift and awake, watching everything carefully. With a hiss he lunges upon a large beast, pinning it to the ground. He allows it to writhe there for a moment before slashing its neck and spilling its blood. He bends forward to drink, draining the body of life.

Taesha> G'deon has gone from trying to dry his hands to trying to wring out the water from the front of his shirt and pants. With a sigh of distracted frustration, the rider yanks out the neatly tucked-in shirt and tries it that way instead. Finally, the water comes cascading onto the sand as he twists the blue fabric about. "Eh? Oh, hello there, M'nty," Gid says quietly. "Um… yeah. Seems Chayath's taken to blooding all of a sudden." Gid isn't so distracted that he forgets to add a roguish grin. "It's about time Nyls did some chasing. Good for his old bones," the rider adds, his tone both affectionate and teasing. "It's been ages."

Taesha> L'uc is still holding the scrub brush as he stands in the water. "So much for taking a bath." he says to himself. Trudging through the water and towards the beach, the young 'rider just shakes his head. "Unbelievable." Considering how Jyd rarely makes /that/ much of a fuss over taking a bath, he can't help but wonder what's up. That is.. until a familiar feeling of violet lust makes known. "Aye.." is his reply to G'deon. "Well, maybe that's just his excuse to get out of taking a bath. I wouldn't doubt it." Half grinning now, he makes his way out of the water and onto the beach. "Need a towel? I have two." When another bronzer arrives, L'uc nods in greeting. "Hey, M'nty."

Minoyath swoops from where he was hovering slightly above, biding his chance and choosing his prey with care. Talons close on the creature's neck and sink in, snapping it with an audible crack. A likely spot is seen for Mino to blood at and he hunches like a carrion bird over the corpse, his wings arching over his body as he drains the steaming blood from the creature. Mm… Delicious. A nice warm snack. Other bronzes and the few browns are given suspicious looks, but not much mind. Minoyath has learned his lessons and he's focusing today. Actually focusing.

<Local> Chayath senses that she does not give herself to speech, but instead revels in a mlange of color, lush yet cryptic. Fiery hues whirl and cavort as a foreshadowing of the flight to come. And still she beckons.

Ngeth is very much the dutiful son, obeying his mother's call, and coming to attend her need. The brown dragon was maybe a bit tardy in his arrival, but he is here now, and eager to make up for his lateness by taking to blooding his first beast with great gusto.

Taesha> M'nty chuckles lightly as he finally picks up on precisely what's going on. After a series of queries to Minoyath, that is. "Yes… Mino finally answered me. It was almost as if he didn't want me to -know- what was going on. Gah… that sharding dragon." And M'nty frowns lightly before finishing to greet G'deon and L'uc. Now he was rather confused, "Where is… everyone." Meaning everyone, of course.

Druseth may be a broody, self-doubting, giant-hunk-of-hot-brown-dragon, but even his incessant self-reflection won't let him miss a coy look from the gold. Nothing in all of Pern's glories would make him miss that. Time to dance… Another slow swoop, and he snags a second beast. It's time to get the blood pumping in his veins, his ashen heart to come to life again under the ancient magic of a 'beast being sucked dry. He rips at the beast's throat, flesh and muscle wrapping its way around his teeth as the blood begins to flow. He greedily laps at it, nibbles at it, attempting to drink all that the body will give him. The life is /his/, now.

Taesha> Taesha is here, although she's still in the water swimming to shore. That blasted lifemate always has to be late for everything. Nevertheless, despite it being in her nature to be upset about such blunders against tradition, there's no room for anger here. A flight's on, and soon enough, Ngeth's mind will be hers and time and place will fade to irrelevance in the face of the goal. Which is kind of a good thing when the goal is your sister's lifemate.

Taesha> L'uc's swim trunks are dripping water droplets onto his feet, making sand stick to them as he walks. Grabbing one of his towels, he slings it around his neck and offers the other towel to G'deon. "Here. If you need it, take it." Smiling now, the lad nods at M'nty. "I know what you mean. Jyd took off that way and so did Nylanth." Pointing towards the general direction of the feeding pens, he then attempts to dry his blonde hair with the towel around his neck.

Uzasnyth gives Chayath his version of a felinistic grin - perhaps laced with a bit of a smirk or maybe a leer - as he peruses the herdbeasts, still from the ground, yet ready to pounce another. It is his Game, his profession, the Hunt for blood and also for Thread when the time may come - but this time now the Hunt is for Chayath, as well as for his herdbeast. When the poor things aren't expecting it, Uzasnyth catches his prey with a pawswipe like a kitten, sucking it dry of its blood quite heartlessly - he isn't a softhearted dragon, not one bit.

Jydhaeth has some respect for the animal and doesn't mangle it beyond recognition. Instead, he bloods and leaves the body in pursuit of another beast. Eyes whirl a steady reddish color and he hisses when a herdbeast crosses his path, springing towards it and sending it to it's doom. Teeth sink into the flesh and he rumbles lowly to let those around him know that he means business. Being one of the largest bronzes at 'Reaches may, indeed, be an advantage during this flight.

Somerseth swoops down on his next herdbeast, grabbing it's neck with an extremely audible crunch of breaking bones and a blood-curdling scream. the beast falls to the ground with Somerseth eagerly lapping at it's neck as legs give their last kick. With his tail whipping behind him and his wings partially spread, he's ready to leap into action and follow his golden target.

You sense that Chayath thrums with life and tension - but more importantly, with /excitement./ In this moment, the world is hers, and she shares that with you: the red-hot blood of the beasts, the joy of tempting and teasing, and the growing desire to experience the skies.

Nylanth finishes rather neatly with his little meal and steps away, licking the last traces of blood from his claret muzzle. The bronze watches Chayath in flight but makes no immediate movement to follow. Not yet. The calculating rogue is saving his energy, and finally sizing up the "competition" as it where. That dark tail whips about almost languidly, the wings half furled, ready for flight at any moment.

Minoyath flicks his tail, his eyes refocusing on Chayath, changing to a violent shade somewhere between red and brilliant purple. Fuschia perhaps? But only for a moment. Minoyath is still young, however, and unlike Druseth, Minoyath second kill isn't in any way slow. All muscles and legs, Minoyath toys with his next kill a split-second longer than necessary, trailing his talons almost lazily along the herdbeast's back and digging furrows in the warm skin. Each black-tipped talon is now delicately dripping something a little redder as Minoyath flicks his wings and snaps the herdbeast's back, settling over this one with purpose. He's smaller than his brother Jydhaeth, but only a little, and every bit as strong.

Piccath takes his next victim, returning with it to a ledge where he can attend to its demise in a slightly less crowded space. His eyes whirling swiftly, focussed on Chayath while he holds the herdbeast in his paws - no evidence of the clumsy brown here - and sucks it dry.

Pfensieth finishes with his first kill and shoves it aside. He leaps upon the next unsuspecting victim, rumbling his pleasure at the sickening snap of the beast's neck. His strong jaws close about the prone creature, sucking the blood from its body before discarding it as well. Chayath is all but ignored; his focus is instead upon the kill, relishing ever drop of blood spilt.

Taesha> "Thanks," G'deon replies, reaching for the offered towel, though he's no longer paying much attention. Taesha gets a nod, and M'nty is blinked at… Oh yeah, Gid already spoke with him. Distractions are mounting. The rider dabs slightly at his damp clothing, but finally shakes his head. "I think we'll need more wine," he says, voice quietly husky.

Taesha> M'nty greets whoever that female was before thunking himself down on the sad. But not without some apprehension. He -knew- was dragonflights were like. He also knew how dragonflights ended. However… he didn't see anyone he could end it with. That was bad. Time for M'nty to curl up into a fetal position and rock back and forth. An arm shoots up from the small form that M'nty has curled into. In the hand is a wine-skin. "For you, my good man. Let's get drunk out our sense. I think that's a good idea. A very good idea." More wine would also be good. Good seems to be a reoccuring theme.

Taesha> L'uc nods after the older 'rider speaks, shaking his head a little to try and concentrate better. "Aye. Wine is good.." is all he can say for the moment. Jydhaeth and his lust start to surge through his mind and.. is he swaying? Yes, L'uc does that during various flights - sway from side-to-side. But, just slightly right now. Wait until the flight gets going and he might even tip over. "Drunk out our sense? Sounds good." Which means, 'pass the wineskin over here when you're done'.

After felling a third herdbeast, Chayath flaunts herself with an elongated stretch, inviting those gathered to look upon her illuminated form-look, but not touch. She snaps playfully at Ngeth; her children, it's always about her children! Carelessly, she stretches her blood-marred muzzle upwards, attention drifting towards the skies. The ground cannot hold her; the need to fly overpowers consideration of a fourth course, and she springs aloft suddenly and without anticipation, kicking up dust.

Taesha> Taesha wades out of the water, and returns to her belongings, quickly towelling dry before clothing herself in a simple wrap dress. In response to G'deon's nod, she strides over, just in time to hear the suggestion of wine. "Oh, indeed," she replies. "Count me in. Warm greetings to you all on this… fine… afternoon," she adds, drawing out her words with a trace of uncertainty. Yes, wine, please!

This is exactly what Nylanth has been waiting for. Efficiency leaves no room for extra snacks. His head cocks to the side slightly as he interprets Chayath's movements, his feet shuffling slightly as he angles for a better view. That stretch of hers is certainly having its effect, as Nylanth's eyes lose any trace of hues other than red, the deep color whirling intricately while the dragon tenses. Suddenly, his broad wings fly out with a snap, and with one powerful downsweep and an echoing bugle, the bronze is sky-bound.

Chayath leaps up Up UP into the air.
Nylanth leaps up Up UP into the air.

Jydhaeth quickly uses the herdbeast for one sole purpose and then promptly drops the animal as golden Chayath takes to the skies. Turning his head towards the sky, long pinions fan outward as his tail slithers from side to side. Massive legs crouch and he leaps into the air, taking flight immediately as he pumps his wings to gain momentum. Soaring through the warm summer air after a beautiful maiden always puts him in a sentimental mood. A mood of lust and devotion. A mood that inspires him to recite an epic poem about.. Chayath.

Jydhaeth leaps up Up UP into the air.
Druseth leaps up Up UP into the air.
Pfensieth leaps up Up UP into the air.
Somerseth leaps up Up UP into the air.
Minoyath leaps up Up UP into the air.
Uzasnyth leaps up Up UP into the air.

Up up up! Wings beat to lift you up out of the dusty pens.
Above the Feeding Pens
Wayward breezes carry the mixed scent of herdbeast and wherry from below, occasionally fusing with the salty odor of the ocean from afar. Spires overlook and shadow the pens below, often blanketing the scythed, claw-cut ledges used for feeding. Thermals, unusually steady for this area, keep that scent aloft and ever-present, growing stronger as they descend to the feeding grounds below.
It is a summer noon.
Gliding around are Corset, Somerseth, and Uzasnyth.
Gold Chayath, bronze Nylanth, bronze Jydhaeth, brown Druseth, and bronze Minoyath are here.

Bone-crack, wing-snap… Druseth stretches, spine and wings and limbs extending as he feels the blood rush through his veins. A rush of primal fury is beginning to twinge at his mind, that darker other-self whispering what lovely poetry those herdbeast lungs do make. What a lovely thing a gold is to devour. A flip of the tail, and he takes off. Up, up, spiralling into the sky, with wings dusted with beige outstretched to catch the winds. Rrrrrrr..

Uzasnyth is good with the blood-marred part - and it seems that they all look quite the part as Amazon hunter cannibals. Yet he's no poet and he's no artist … just a simple cat making simple moves. Pinning his wings in a certain position and pointing his snout forward, brown propells himself up in the direction of Chayath and the rest of her pursuers. In a word: rawr.

Piccath gets what is quite possibly the latest start around in terms of taking to the skies, and this is compounded by one of the weakest launches. He's easily at the back of the pack, and something just isn't quite feeling right. It may have been the full meal still sitting in his stomach from last night… whatever it is, he makes the snap decision to bow out now, and be the supportive cuddler later. Sorry, love.

Minoyath has chosen his beasts well, it seems, and after his meals he leaps skyward and vocalizes his challenge. The sound is something larger than he should be able to make, but perhaps that would be normal during a flight. Minoyath isn't thinking of how loud he sounds, he's thinking that the girl got a headstart on him and that was bad. Well, not -bad- really, but just that it caused problems. His wings start to pump with great downsweeps. At this point in time the chase is just a matter of gaining altitude.

Taesha> G'deon rolls his shoulders slowly in a useless attempt at loosening the tension he feels there. Useless because it's his lifemate's tension, not his own. As the dragons begin to make the unmistakable lift into the air, G'deon finally relaxes. "I hate waiting," he mutters darkly, finally giving up on the towel and slinging it across his neck. His hands twitch against the towel's ends as he grasps them tightly. "Maybe we should go find that wine," the rider adds, trying to put a cheerful note in his voice.

Ngeth takes the teasing like a challenge, bugling to the gold in a strong response: I am male, hear me roar. Licking the last droplets of blood from his beast, he takes off in a powerful launch - unfortunately, a bit late, due to that greedy finishing lick. Unlike Piccath, however, he seems unaware that starting from so far back can be detrimental to one's chances. Ah well… off he goes, wings beating overtime in an effort to catch up.

Taesha> L'uc pokes M'nty with a toe as the fellow 'rider thunks onto the sand. "You all right there?" Perhaps he's drunk already and he just doesn't want to admit it. Well, maybe he should ask if he is. "You drunk?" Nice, L'uc. G'deon is then nodded at and he grins lopsidedly now. "Wine. Yes. Let's get the wine because.. I'm getting a headache." Yeah, like /wine/ will help out your headache, L'uc. See? Not thinking straight. At all.

Taesha> M'nty has a severe lack of wine if he's going to be getting at least -three- other people drunk. Hrmmm… Uncurling a little bit, he eyes his wineskin suspiciously and a little sadly. He's still rocking when he says… "We need more wine… Much much more wine." But he passes the wineskin to G'deon. The man looked like he needed it the most. "We might get… a little present… from Sein… to help us out." M'nty grins slightly drunkely.

<Local> Chayath senses that Druseth sends a shower of mental ash. He's there, a very dark presence, with colors seeming to vanish into grey within his mindvoice. « Hmmmmmm…. » is his mental rumble, a flash of crimson that quickly is charred away to mental grey. Like a flicker of bloody flame, then lost. « Shall seeee…. » That's about all his blood-muddled brain can get through.

Taesha> G'deon takes the wineskin from M'nty with a grateful smile, but offers it in turn to Taesha. He doesn't so much need /wine/ as just something. Anything at all. This is thirsty business, after all. "Maybe we can get something from the caverns. Or… go someplace quiet at least," the older rider suddenly comments, glancing about the beach as if seeing it for the first time today. "Sand might not be good." That's Gid, always thinking ahead. Way ahead.

Pfensieth launches himself into the air, lagging slightly behind the group. He hisses his displeasure at this, lashing his tail as though to knock the other competitors from the race. He pumps his wings furiously, crashing through the sky in a wavering line, focus still not placed upon Chayath, rather upon the other competitors.

Taesha> L'uc pauses for a moment and then remembers that Sein is in his wing. "Right. Sein. I know her." Of course, he does. And since he and G'deon are in /the/ wine wing, perhaps it's their duty to supply the booze. "Yeah, let's get out of here. The sand is starting to bug me." Could it be that it's in between his toes? Right. Since he's barefoot and wearing only a pair of swim trunks, the young 'rider just.. sways. "All right. Let's go somewhere." Towel is then slung back over his shoulder.

Taesha> Taesha takes the offered wine and downs a healthy swig, before nodding her agreement to the suggestion of a new location. "A good point, G'deon." Nevermind that they're in a rather public place and Taesha is not one to engage in such unseemly behaviour - flight or not.

<Local> Chayath senses that Minoyath lets a wash of brilliant fushia and sunsweetened kiwi from his -own- tropical island pour fourth. It's the bright that contrasts with the dark and depth of his voice. A low mental rumble forms itself into words and causes his mental palm trees to sway and bob. « Beautious. Bright. Stunning » Mino is a force of nature. No sonnets for him. There is only pure power. And when power fails him… pure drive.

Chayath spirals higher, looping up past the Spindles themselves.

So you go up, up, and up some more, spiralling past ledges and Star Stones and up past the very Spindles themselves.
Above High Reaches
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.
It is a summer noon.
Gold Chayath is here.

Jydhaeth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Minoyath shoots up from the dusty pens.
Pfensieth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Nylanth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Druseth shoots up from the dusty pens.

<Local> Chayath senses that Nylanth sees nothing but fire, which is reflected rather intensely in his smoldering mindvoice. The usual coolness of evergreen is replaced with red-hot spice, the intricate aroma so strong it nearly singes the senses.

Uzasnyth shoots up from the dusty pens.

This is what it's all about! Chayath never forgets her pursuers, but she indulges in the play of thermals, seeking out those that will carry her high and far. Up, up, up! Made more brilliant still by the noon sun, the gold loops ever-upwards, clearing the walls of the Bowl and spiraling towards Rukbat. She gains altitude at a dizzying speed, and only then does she release her voice; silent no more, Chayath releases one long, loud note that's pure pleasure.

Taesha> Once they have a game plan, Gid is all set. He nods once to… whoever might be looking, and begins to stride rather purposefully towards the bowl, angling off to the east and a tiny little door at leads to one of the quieter corners of the Weyr, a miracle in and of itself.

Taesha> Taesha follows along after Gid, offering out the skin to whoever may want some wine along the way.

Taesha> Quiet Corners
Taesha> Thick woolen tapestries dull the noise from the rest of the caverns, turning this well-lit little room into a welcome escape. The stairs up place it against the bowl wall somewhere above the living caverns, carpeted against the winters chill or left as cool stone floor in summer. Some high and narrow windows can be opened to the world outside, or secured with their heavy metal-sided shutters and blue-threaded curtains.
Taesha> Glowlight gleams, brightening the well-cushioned stone couches and lighting the weyr residents half-finished projects: knitting undone, sewing only started, leathers being worked soft, and even a hide of sketches or half-finished Thread-chart spread out across one of the tables.
Taesha> G'deon, M'nty, and L'uc are here.

Taesha> M'nty nods and hrms… "Wait… a moment" M'nty is drunk off his ass, but he follows G'deon wherever, entering where the were supposed to come to touch late. "I met a bluerider? Or two. I could actually tell how many there were. But they handed me these." M'nty displays a rather deceny array of liquor to the party. "All with love and kisses from Sein." M'nty grins. "She's such a sweetheart. I need to tell her so." In many different ways.

At this particular moment in time, Nylanth is kind like one of those really annoying drivers during rush hour who simply cannot stand to be behind anyone. He's certainly going out of his way to make sure there's nothing in front of him but the glowing hide of Chayath up ahead. Of course, he's not the only one with this idea. As a younger bronze budges in, nearly clipping Nylanth's wings in the process, Nyls gives a reckless growl and sweeps down with his wings, causing him to suddenly soar higher. He just needs to see the gold up ahead, the jeweled hide twinkling so temptingly. Once he seems to be clear of the other pursuers in their initial climb into the sky, Nylanth settles down a little, his broad wings taking him up at a dizzying pace, though still hanging back far enough from Chayath to watch the fiery dragon's movements.

Jydhaeth slices through the air with as much grace and nobility as he's able to present, going higher and higher still. Large wings pump rhythmically, keeping a steady pace as he soars after Chayath. Her call is answered by his own deep bellow throughout the heavens. Ah, a chivalrous knight pursues his lady. This love-chase happens to involve other males and that is not acceptable. There can only be /one/ knight in shining armor, and that's him. Faceted eyes whirl various shades of violet and red, depicting his mood during this golden chase.

Taesha> G'deon ducks into the cave… room… whatever this place is, and immediately goes to pacing. M'nty's wine is eyed a couple times, and Gid does remember to thank the rider for bringing it, but he makes no move to pour himself any. Not just yet. Did he mention he hates waiting? Yeah. His usually sky-blue eyes are nearly violet in the relative dark of the little room, and as G'deon continues to run his fingers through hair that always seems to be in need of cutting, the blond tangle of curls takes on a decidedly ragged look.

Away, away! There is a strong rhythm to the beat of Druseth's wings, each stroke taken in time, each shift to a thermal done with the utmost care. There's always that question, what is more powerful, the draw of the female or the seduction by the winds? Yet that gold is in his eyes, glittering firelight. He swoops upwards, a low rumble starting in his throat at her call. Upwards, upwards… towards the scorching sun.

For all his effort, Ngeth is still well back of the crowd, and only gaining because because he's free of the pack, and therefore needs not be concerned with clipping wings to his left and right. Pumping his wings with great determination, he continues his pursuit, however much it may be in vain: after all, mama always said that practice makes perfect.

<Local> Chayath senses that she is blood-hot, blood-red, blood-thirsty. « See what? See me! » She answers her own question with the sultry sounds of contralto laughter, and frames it into her own personal litany: « Me, me, me! »

If Nylanth is a speeding driver at rush hour, Uzasnyth is the annoying New York City bus that keeps getting in everyone's way. Tracing after the others with a sort of lazy, confident air, he maneuvers himself to inconveniently directly in front of two young bronzes and an older brown, almost teasing them - and continues to make it impossible for said dragons to pass him. Chayath is the sun if that is the east, but poetry is not for Uzasnyth … Chayath is the Golden Token of the Amazon, and Uzasnyth is the Jumanji. All the others? Alligators.

Minoyath labors a bit in getting' up in the air. Urf… urf. There she is! The shimmering 'X' marks the spot. Time to see if Mino can't get the booty that's just up ahead. Just out of reach. Just a little bit higher. Minoyath keeps his wings pumping in almost a frenzied pace. He needs to go up! Because that's where Chayath seems to be going. Up up and away! The thrill of the chase is in his blood and he echos the clarion note the gold set free. -This- was where when dragons were most alive. This is where the hidden violence in Minoyath is set free.

Taesha> L'uc tugs on a shirt that he grabbed on his way here, trudging up the stairs and finally getting the garment situated. It isn't long at all until he flops down onto one of the small couches and just lays there, still barefoot and in his damp swimming apparel. Oy. But, that's the last of his worries for the moment and he manages to reveal his own wineskin that he snagged from his 'secret' stash. "Got my own, thank ye." is said to M'nty. The lad then takes a swig straight from the 'skin and remains laying on his back. "Have a seat, Gid. You're making me nervous with all that pacing." Grin.

Taesha> Taesha supposes that with all the extra wine, and G'deon's apparently desire to remain substance-free, that the skin in her hands might as well just be hers. Excellent! She knocks back a few, her gaze wandering absentmindedly around the room before settling on the pacing bronzerider. Just the sort of regularity of the mundane that will not distract from the semi-trance she's gone into. Even her drinking has taken to holding to a sort of consistent beat.

Chayath's flight is her dance. She combines the suggestiveness of the tango with the crisp flamboyancy of the flamenco, then throws in a little salsa for spice. And always, up. She crows in delight as dragons begin to drop back and drop out and never, never looks back. Fueled by blood and tempered with the need to fly free and fast, Chayath dips into a devious swerve, then concentrates on achieving the apex. No Icarus, she: Chayath fears no one, not even Rukbat himself.

Taesha> M'nty is only just gratefully to have something to suck down, being that he's probably going to end up dissapointed and hungry. M'nty turns to a small couch-chair and recurls into his ball, a large bottle of something strong tucked between his legs and just generally sipped and chugged at intervals. "You're Welcome to any of the stuff… on the floor." And M'nty's gone. The presents from Sein are still in a pile on the floor though. Which is nice. No more talking from M'nty… He's -long- gone.

Druseth has two left back paws… But that doesn't stop him, awkward and socially unacceptable as he may be, from giving his all out mambo groove. Crimson still streaks down his muzzle, painting across his slender chest and mingling with the natural scarlet tones as he flies in a flurry of bloodlust. His wing pace gets more erratic, the shadow cast over him stretching wider as he begins to dive dowards in a barrel roll… Soon to soar back upwards, keeping his eye on the prize. Another brown is bumped savagely out of the way, giving Druseth a tail-bite in return. Another scar to the heart, perhaps, as he roars and begins to ascend faster and faster.

Chayath thinks to you, « I bespoke Nylanth with: Chayath flickers teasingly, testingly, here then gone again, the will-o-wisp in the dark. But will you follow? »

Nylanth is no slouch when it comes to high flying, and this is no exception. If Chayath wants to dance, this rogue is all too happy to follow, and perchance cut in. The gold's swerve is matched smoothly, but to the bronze's dismay, another of the chasers did not make the transition quite as easily. Nyls quickly folds his wings to his body and drops, nearly missing a midair collision. Calamity avoided, the dragon's passion is mixed with frustration, fueling his desire all the more. The detour has cost him, however, and he has a lot of work in store for him if he's to catch up to the glowing jewel who still seems intent on climbing.

Jydhaeth keeps his eyes on that beautiful glowing gold, never looking away for one moment. Her beauty entrances him and puts him in a state of poetic paradise. He could recite a sonnet if he weren't flying. Hey if Nylanth is the speeding driver, Uzasnyth a bus, then he's just Cadillac gliding through the streets like a boat on water. He's in such a bliss that he just follows Chayath around like a little lost puppy. But.. what's this? She's getting away? Alas! He must fly faster, and so he does.

Uzasnyth likes to dance. In fact, Uzasnyth likes to Tango, with a capital T - and you all know that tangoing takes Two. His nephews are practically unnoticed, his younger brown cousin almost laughed at for his slowness and delay, and the elder cousin - that's you, Druseth - actually noted with respect. Because he's Druseth, master of flights, ther eis no dispute … There's a chance that Uzi could run some complicated maneuvers, but he seems intent on only blocking everyone else, almost as if he's got his mind on someone else getting the prize.

Chayath thinks to you, « I bespoke Jydhaeth with: Chayath shimmers with white-hot potency: a quick flash that lingers as an afterthought only. Chasing mirages, are we? »

Chayath senses Nylanth smoulders in reply to that teasing flicker. Flames lick the edges of his mindvoice, heating it to a nearly unbearable pitch. The rogue is still in this chase, and Faranth help those in his way.

Flamenco sounds like Flamingo… which is just the encouragement that Minoyath needs. He climbs, stretching his back and snapping it forwards again, living for height… for speed. He's tiring, but he's not finished. He's biding his time and, like a smoking volcano, will hopefully explode with that extra burst of speed at any time. But this is only a hope. If the group keeps going up like Minoyath is hoping they will, his muscles might give out before his heart does. But that doesn't mean his spirit won't hold.

Ngeth has definitely lost all chance of catching, unless Chayath makes some kind of rapid drop into his clutches - which would really be cause for concern, because he's a long way down. All that effort expended to try to catch up has backfired, and exhaustion is evident in the slowing pace of his wingflaps, and the slumping form of his body, no longer sleek and stretched out from tip to tail. He keeps going, though, refusing to quit.

Even wings of flesh and bone must tire under the sun's incessant pressure. Defiance builds until Chayath screams her protest, forgetting her games in the face of this greater threat. Each strong pump becomes more laborious, but she fights on with a lashing of her tail that carries into a full-body shimmy. Dipping through an air current, the rusted gold gains a glimpse of those that remain, and she slows minutely as she considers each in turn, lagging unwarily - and who will take advantage?

Jydhaeth courses through the ending stages of the chase, wide wings churning the air tainted with low-lying figures of clouds. 'Oomph' factor lowing, the leggy bronze triumphs over a staggering brown who drops exhaustedly out of the pursuit. Chayath's transitory form passes before his wide field of vision, her image alone staving off the feelings of fatigue until he either has her in his possession or returns unsuccessful to the Weyr. Summer sun accentuates the scintillated sheen of his hide, the blue traces of a kingfisher's feathers almost alive in intensity. Falcate claws rend the thin atmosphere in anticipation, Jydhaeth's yearning like the tragic poet pining after the aristocrat that is out of his caste. That longing, fashioned in the the drive of a released arrow, propels his wings to beat that much harder, his brain to work that much quicker. Aiming for the airspace above the queen, he then moves his 'wrists' inward, ailerons renounced somewhat as he dives for the gleaming object of his desires.

Uzasnyth gives what may be a draconic yawn, as if he's bored with the proceedings - and it looks like Jydhaeth's got the idea, just go for the Gold, literally speaking. Down Uzasnyth goes, letting out a cry of 'love me!' bugling as he shoots toward Chayath, lagging bronzes and browns behind him now ignored. Mineminemine. Maybe. Love him, Chayath, because he's yours.

Taesha> L'uc takes another swig of his sweet peach flavored brandy. "Hey, anyone want some?" Holding out the wineskin to anyone who wants it, he extends his arm. "It's this special flavored wine that came from the Vintner Hall. I forgot who gave it to me.." Right. Poor L'uc is kind of in a 'blah' state right now. Being yanked this way by Jyd and then yanked the other way by the wine, well, he's on quite a trip. For now at least. A wave of Jydhaeth suddenly hits him like a force full of bricks, causing him to jump instinctively. Reflexes like a feline aren't always good. "Wha…"

Taesha> Taesha turns her head just in time to see L'uc jump, "Hey, careful! Don't drop the skin!" she exclaims, reaching out her hands to catch it should it drop. She does want some, after all, now that her own skin is done. It wasn't exactly full to begin with, you see - she's not a total boozer.

Minoyath is hoping that the advantage is his and only his. It's mind over matter in this instance. As Chayath screams, Minoyath bugles his defiance. Winners never quit and quitters never win. Ever. So Minoyath finds that he does have that energy he was almost certain he was lacking. A down sweep, and upsweep and Minoyath dives for the girl. That shining -something-. She is the sparkling sun that Minoyath, the beach bum and permanant resident of his own tropical island, yearns for. So he throws his heart after her, and hopes his body cooperates.

And if Ngeth was to have any chance, this was it… and he totally misses it. Certainly the most amateur effort of the entire flight, he goes up, when everyone else goes down, and it's not until far too late that he finally makes a last-ditch effort to reach out his claws and give what only the most generous might refer to as a catching attempt.

M'nty twitches… really out of it. Not just out of it. REALLY out of it. His large amount of liquor in the bottle in front of him is quite definately almost gone. Which is good-ish for M'nty, being that he's unpleased at having to find someone to dispense with all of this dragonlust. Up up and away. Dancing with the forces of nature. Tigers and Knights and Buses, oh my!! Yeah. M'nty's out of it.

Weariness is clear in his mind and heart, yet the blood is all that it takes to drive him on. Druseth continues to struggle and strive through the winds, whispering to them to carry him onward, upwards. Time draws nearer and nearer, he can feel it into his marrow. Closer and closer, he stretches and creeps, with a final moment of predatory explosion: the remaining energy is channeled, together, and he dives upwards for her, wings outstretched and a growl strangled silent in his throat.

Nylanth labors on madly until he catches a lucky thermal, aiding him greatly in his quest. Over the currents and across the wind he clatters, wings pumping rhythmically as he attempts to regain his height. His darkly hot gaze is for Chayath only as the bronze weaves among the last few dragons still in the chase. As the glowing lady's speed begins to wane, Nylanth gives out another bugle that echoes faintly against the Weyr below. One kiss my bonny sweetheart…. he's finally close enough to try for that prize as he stays a little below, either to catch or to begin the inevitable fall from this invigorating chase.

Taesha> G'deon has finally stopped pacing as his surroundings fade, replaced by his lifemate's view. His dragon's emotions are clearly mirrored in the rider, powerful hunger quite clear as G'deon tenses, staring at a wall… or through it is more likely.

Chayath turns from the sun in favor of those pursuits that are warmer still; the intimacies of another dragon provide what Rukbat, for all its glory, cannot. The heat of blood, the heat of dance, and the heat of the sun combine in Chayath, sharpening the contrast between aureate silver and burnished firelight. She shimmers, here at the height of her glory, then twists her lithe body and stretches to meet Jydhaeth as he comes from above. Let none mistake this as chance: this is a choice, her choice. The Weyr reverberates with the force of her exultation.

Jydhaeth snakes his neck and tail around Chayath, the victor's cup obtained in the flesh and blood personification of a gold dragon. Her wiles ran deep, but his zeal proved to be a better opponent. Pallid pinions brake to snare the wind and slow their dangerous fall. Sweet nothings are whispered through his maw, crooning and rumbling apparent before he breaks free.

Nylanth comes up rather short as gold and bronze entwine ahead of him. Roguish bronze slows, simply watching. With a snort of dismay, he shakes his dark head and angles off towards the east, beating a careless rhythm out and away to burn off any leftover energy.

Ngeth definitely does not need to be watching this - that's his mother, after all! So he continues to dive down, before putting out his wings to begin a soft descent away from the falling pair. Ah well, better luck next time.

Uzasnyth gives a quick trumpet of simple congratulations for his lovely relatives, and bends in the general direction of Nylanth - hello, old friend. At least now his rider will have no reason to be angry at him - no one knows just how peeved a Phea would have been.

Minoyath looks to have thrown his heart and missed by a mile as the prize he was hoping for turned to another. Mino's own clutch-sibling. Mino let loose a bugle of congratulations for his brother mingled with dissapointment for himself. And so he soars up higher, not willing to let the power singing through his blood to be wasted on anything but pure pleasure of flight.

Taesha> G'deon very slowly relaxes, his expression returning to something more normal as he's once again able to focus on the here and now. His blond head turns slightly to regard the others, a confused frown appearing momentarily. "Definitely not a boring summer day," he comments quietly, mellow baritone muted against the stone walls. He slowly picks up the borrowed towel from before and starts to head for the door, perhaps to catch a ride up to his weyr. "I'll return this later," he says to his wingmate, though the other rider might not be paying the greatest attention right now.

Taesha> "I'm careful.. I'm.." L'uc starts to say until he's suddenly side tracked by Jydhaeth once again. Dragon lust reaches an apex and L'uc tosses the wineskin to Taesha before his arm drops. " No worries, Gid. Wow.. Um, hey guys. Jyd wants me to meet him in the Bowl.. and.. y'know.. he says he's got something to tell me." Like he doesn't already know what it is. So, the 'rider rolls off of the couch and makes his way, barefoot, down the stairs and into the caverns. Yep. And he's still in his swim wear.

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