Myrineth's mating flight

13th February 1999
Logged by Catia

Pearlized iridescent colors glisten in the light, antique gold and silvery blue dancing over deep forest green. Pinks and violets meld with amber hues to defiantly play across this lady's soft hide, fading into the richer greens of a fir tree seemingly hung with faerie lights; tints of fiery red and bronze smoulder over translucent wings. Despite the tapestry of color that enfolds her form, this delicate little beauty of a dragon is most definitely green. She carries herself gracefully, sharp talons glinting with golden taupe hues as she steps out into her world, lifemate by her side.
A definite extra tint suffuses Myrineth's hide today; almost like a neon green blush.
Myrineth is 13 Turns, 4 months, and 9 days old.
She is 22 meters long, with a wingspan of 36 meters.

Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Tucked into a glowlit niche are Han, Gwen, Shavira, Mercutio, Pacem, Noropolo, Phoenix, Lei, Ghost, Orphan, Kynance, Sobrinita, Kyrus, Kerropi, and Mera.

Areiah arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Catia is sat at the Inferno table, snapping at the drudge who's trying to clean it. Yes, not content with terrorizing her own infirmary drudges, the greenrider has come in here as well.

Rubbing delicate hands over either forearm, Areiah steps in, hair a'tumble over either shoulder and still quite wet. Easy steps take her hearth-ward, first, a cup of klah swiftly prepared and taken up before manners are reclaimed and she turns, surveying the room and its' tortured drudge compliment. "G'afternoon, Catia." she greets, a familiar face picked out of the crowd. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" And she's not being sarcastic, either.

"It's /raining/," Catia points out to the weyrling, rubbing at her own damp hair once more. "Hadn't you noticed?" she seems quite sincere, too… even if she does bat a hand at the poor drudge. "Leave it, can't you? You'll take the paint off!" Defeated, the drudge slinks away.

Areiah tilts her head, then, a brief sip taken, followed by a brush of tongue o'er lower lip. "Aye, it's raining, and yes, I'd noticed - I just got in from gliding in it with Ysbryth about ten minutes ago." she replies, a smile crossing her countenance. "The baths work wonders for a quick warm-up."

Catia pushes her own empty klah mug around in circles over the elaborate paintwork of the table. "I've got a bath in my weyr… and I don't have to get wet to get to it, either," she replies, sounding perhaps the tiniest bit smug. "Which is just as well, since Myrineth's asleep."

D'renn strides lightly in from the Central Bowl.
D'renn stretches his short, wiry limbs, as he enters, pushing back dripping, over-long curls from his eyes. "Good-day to you, ladies…" the bluerider offers politely - very politely - as he fetches klah and takes a seat near his favorite goldriding weyrling.

"Ah.. I don't either, really. But I love the rain; it's soothing, somehow." A pause, followed by an airy chuckle from Areiah. "She's asleep? You're lucky.. I couldn't convince Ysbryth to sleep with the weather the way it is for all the herdbeast on Pern." Another pause, another quirk of lips, and another greeting. "Good to see you, D'renn."

"Good-day D'renn," Catia manages, barely civilly. "You could've asked if we wanted more klah, you know," she adds with a faint note of irritation, shouting over to another poor drudge, "Bring a pot of klah over here please!"

D'renn mostly ignores Catia, turning the full force of his smile on Areiah. "Aww, does Ysbryth like the rain, then? Trydanth does… he's just outside, watching all the sparkles."

And look - Areiah doesn't melt with that smile of D'renn's, either. "She does. It fascinates her, the way it falls, lands, sprinkles everywhere.. the way it feels on her hide, the way the ledge stone changes color, she's just endlessly interested." Pausing, she sips again, looking to Catia. "You don't? Like the rain, that is."

Pot delivered, Catia just shrugs at Areiah, and pours herself a fresh mug. "Myrineth prefers to be indoors." 'And I can't blame her' implies Catia's tone.

D'renn beams some more at Areiah, not minding if it doesn't have effect. "Trydanth's particularly keen on the way raindrops sparkle on greens." Oooh, was that a particular emphasis on a particular word? And was that a sly glance at a certain grouchy rider?

Mera chirps softly. Rain is to be avoided. She extends her wings, her lithe body stretching luxuriantly.

"Well, I'm glad Myri's in her weyr in that case," Catia replies tartly, stirring much-needed sweetner into her klah. "I have enough problems without /your/ blue ogling her."

All right. So that'll do it. Areiah smiles right back at D'renn, the smile slowly becoming a lopsided grin at the not-so-subtle turn of phrase. "Mmm. Especially when their hides glow the way they're known to do from time to time, no?" she quips, looking 'tween the rider pair, eyes flicking back and forth beneath half-lowered 'lashes.

The crease of one eye is all that D'renn gives Reia - a mere half-wink. He's not daring to say anything.

"There's nothing wrong with Myrineth," Catia replies hotly, glaring all around the cavern in case anyone dares say there is.

Aaliyah arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Almost soothing creeps into Areiah's light soprano as she shakes her head, gaze settled on Catia, now. "No one said there was, Catia - being proddy is normal for female dragons, now and again." she tries, leaning just so to scoot closer to D'renn. "Right?" This addressed to the bluerider, before attention wavers, goes to the newcomer. A nod suffices greeting, and sapphire eyes return to D'renn.

Reyenna comes down from the workrooms above.

"Oh yeah," D'renn answers, and beams happily, blue eyes a-twinkle. "Just you wait till Ysbryth gets old enough, my dear….."

Aaliyah steps quietly into the room, watching the people in the room with glaring eyes. She almost sits down at her usual table by the hearth, but notices something obviously funny in the manner of that one greenrider over there. Must be proddy, there's no other explanation. So instead, Aaliyah decides that it might be best to stay on the other side of the room, holding up the wall.

Catia manages a smile at that, hiding it behind her klah. Areiah will find out, sure enough… The greenrider manages a relatively polite nod to the newcomers. Seems that she's only taking her mood out on drudges and D'renn.

Reyenna hides a grin behind hand, changing a chuckle into a quiet cough as she gets a mug of klah. Firelizards are good warning systems. She observes silently, listening as she drinks.

Vibo exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Areiah shifts at that, assurance doing little. Well, maybe Catia's reassured, at least. Drudges and D'renn can bear the brunt of it. "Ah, that won't be for a little while, though." she manages, soft and deceptively easy. Another nod, this one for Reyenna, the half-smile is turned back on both of her companions.

Mera warbles to her humanpet, gliding down to rest on her favorite perch, but polite enough to wait for invitation from the woman.
Reyenna calls to Mera, who flies over and lands on her shoulder.

"Not that long," Catia answers in a very clear tone, before turning all her attention back on her klah. It's not going to do anything worthy of her wrath.

D'renn looks smug. That's all.

From Reyenna's shoulder, Mera reluctantly rises again in answer to a silent thought, spreading her wings.
Mera spreads her wings, her green hide shimmering before she disappears ::between::!

A blink, followed by the lifting of one eyebrow. "Oh? She's just barely under two Turns now.. how old is she to be when she first rises?" Areiah inquires, not purposely ignoring the smugness - just leaving interest to give way to curiousity.

"Anything from Two Turns up…." D'renn answers glibly, giving Catia another sideways look. "Not that you have to worry, anyhow… Trydanth won't be chasing any more golds."

Kitiara glides slowly and fluidly in from the Central Bowl.

Catia snorts at D'renn's words, in a most unladylike fashion.

Bob blinks in from ::between::!

Kitiara looks over the crowd cautiously. Odd group.

That's not subtle disappointment in the Weyrling's delicate features. Really, it's not. "Ah." comes Areiah's eventual reply, followed by a light shrug of her shoulders and another sip of her klah. "Blues don't usually chase golds, though, do they?" A chuckle for Catia's snort; amusement more than anything else.

D'renn sneers at Catia - although hopefully she didn't see. His usual expression of cheerfulness appears again, and he nods to the lastest arrival, shaking his head at Areiah. "They just can't keep up… don't have the stamina for those long flights. Neither do many browns."

Central Bowl> Periwinkle hide stirs and shifts as Brainleth moves his pudgy tail from around his hindpaws. He'd had it snuggled around his talons so as to keep them protected from the small amounts of snow on the ground, but he's already forgotten about the cold and so it doesn't matter to him anymore. His rider, St'pid pats his dragon once and heads away, stopping halfway to his destination and turning suddenly. Oh yeah, the Living Caverns are that way.

Central Bowl> Trydanth gives Brainleth what, for a human, would be a cursory glance. Some blues… it's raining, anyhow, and Trydanth is enjoying examining all the sparkly drops.

Mera spreads her wings, her green hide shimmering before she disappears ::between::!
Central Bowl> Mera blinks in, appearing in green splendor from ::between::!

Catia didn't catch the sneer, fortunately. Her klah is far more interesting… and she's distracted from even that by certain flickers at the back of her mind. Hmm.

Central Bowl> Mera is surprised by the rain. She backwings, trying to control her flight, but the wind has other ideas for this tiny green.

"Mmmhmm." Areiah acknowledges, smile warming a shade. "So blues tend to go after greens. Think Trydanth will go up after Myrineth?" Apologetic, then, and suddenly blushing, the young woman reaches for Catia's arm. "Not that I meant.. well, you know what I meant."

Catia shakes Areiah's hand away, fine features contorting into a frown. "Hmmph."

Central Bowl> Brainleth snorts as his rider passes him again, tilting his head curiously. Circling green swims about his eyes and drains in dizzying circles as he regards his rider cross his path. The blue dragon doesn't notice the others along with him, his hide shaking and shivering unconciously in response to the frighteningly cold water pelting down on it.

Reyenna blinks suddenly, her attention taken elsewhere. Under her breath she mutters something inaudible. She rises, heading for the exit to the bowl, then pauses and returns to her seat. Silly little green flit forgot that it's raining.

Central Bowl> Mera spreads her wings, her green hide shimmering before she disappears ::between::!

"Well…. probably…" is D'renn's answering drawl. And he winks again at Areiah.

"I hope he doesn't catch," Catia mutters, not completely under her breath.

D'renn gives another smug smile. "So you think Myri will rise, hmmm?" he addresses Catia. After all, she said…..

Areiah tries again. "Catia, really, honestly.. that wasn't what I meant. I meant, blues go up after greens, and since Trydanth's blue.. well, I mean.. oh, nevermind." she concedes, this followed by a sigh. Oy vey. "She /is/ rising?"

Oh shards. Did she really say that? "I don't know, alright D'renn?" the dragonhealer snaps back.

St'pid, rider of the blue Brainleth, slips into the caverns soaking and yet unknowing of that fact. He heads over to the hearth to grab himself one of the warm drinks that are always sitting there. He takes one in his grasp and sips deeply, pausing for a moment to relish the taste of it. Suddenly, several moments afterwards, he lets out a soft yelp, screaming about how hot it is. A little slow, are we?

Reyenna goes home.
Kitiara steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.

"It's klah. It's usually hot." D'renn points out in a painfully slow voice to St'pid - who was stood rather too close. Returing to the conversation in hand, D'renn actually dares to leer at Catia. "You sure you don't know?"

Sen grins saucily as she perambulates…. in from the Central Bowl.

"She might be, alright?!" Catia nearly yells at D'renn, flinging herself from her seat at the Inferno Table and starting to stalk the caverns. Just keep her away from blueriders, alright?

Sen waddles in, looking decidedly not so happy about the pregnancy now she is near her time, and as big as a dragon. She smiles, however, than blinks, eyes narrowing a bit……perhaps she should try for food another time "Hello…"

"Hello Sen," D'renn greets the very pregnant rider with a warm smile, and then a warning, "Don't go near Catia…."

St'pid heads over to a table near the rest of the riders, not noticing the proddy look of the one greenrider. He usually is oblivious to the fact… any and all facts actually. Nodding slightly to the others, including the pregnant rider that just appeared, he grins at D'renn and murmurs, "I didn't notice."

Sen chuckles at D'renn, nodding, then makes a very wide circle round the healer "suppose I shall talk to Cat later about this then" she murmurs, patting her belly as she makes for the food. And piles a plate high with it, carrying it back to settle with Areiah cautiously "Are you safe?" she queries, sitting heavily.

"Well, klah usually is hot…." D'renn answers, half-patient. Thank Faranth none of his weyrlings, even S'lor, are quite this bad. The volatile bluerider would've killed someone…. "Reia's safe, I think." Even if /he's/ sat next to her.

Healer instincts do take over though, and Catia returns to her seat, looking over Sen. "Aren't you due?"

"Sen!" Areiah's greeting is bright, warm, and altogether cheerful. The greenrider will make a fine distraction, yes indeed. "Goodness, it's been just ages since I last saw you.. congratulations on the baby." A pause, as the one-breath sentance ends, and a reply of sorts is taken in. "I'm safe. Between you and D'renn, I think I'm fairly protected." And look. She's teasing, too.

Sen blinks up at Catia, cringing only slightly; after all, she does know what it is to be proddy "Oh….I think so….a bit overdue, actually" this said with weary resignation, though anticipation still lives in her eyes. Smile is turned towards Areiah "Don't know how much protection I will be…I can barely move…." is teased back, before she asks Cat "The babe should be alright? Even if she isn't ready to be born?" Anxiety rises slightly.

"If she isn't ready yet, then we'll give her a little time before I induce anything," Catia answers Sen, sagging grumpily back into a chair and pouring yet another cup of klah.

Central Bowl> Trydanth is fidgety. No other word for it…. And… hungry. Sort of. With a leap, the electric-blue darts up into the rain, heading for… food. Or something.

Central Bowl> Trydanth takes off.
Pens> Trydanth drops in from above; beasts scatter. Wiser than they look, aren't they?

Central Bowl> Brainleth watches the others of his peers leave and takes of as well, following along with the crowd.

Mera blinks in, appearing in green splendor from ::between::!

D'renn looks around, and then lifts his head, like a canine hearing a distant sound. Hmmm.

L'it comes in from the bowl, slapping drenched leather gloves against drenched leather outfit with disgust "Gah, I hate the rain!" he snarls, temper frayed and snapping as usual. Eyes gaze around the cavern, and he snorts again "Hello."

"Not nice, is it?" Catia replies, not quite as snappy - she found someone to agree with!

Pens> Brainleth alights on a ridge, trumpeting. He does love this game. It's called chase right? At least that's what his rider tells him. Only bad thing is that the loser gets eaten. Luckily for him he's always won. Wings take him off into the rain again, as he snaps his talons together. He's not hungry now, but he likes games. Except when he loses.

Sen smiles gratefully at Catia, then let's the matter drop. Seems Catia might have other things on her mind today. So she digs into her food, munching happily though with an occasional weary glance healer's way, a more relaxed one towards D'renn and Areiah "'s the new weyr?" she asks of the gold rider.

Pens> Trydanth glides over the herd, scattering beasts left right and center before his choice is made… /that/ one. That plump succulent blood-filled herdbeast that he breaks the neck of, settling down atop to gnaw at the spine.

"I still think it's lovely." Areiah offers, smile moving from rider to rider, coming to rest quite soundly on Sen. "The weyr? Oh, it's wonderful, thank you. Warm, comfortable.. just perfect. Ysbryth loves it - it's so quiet. You'll have to stop in sometime after you've had your baby."

Central Bowl> Fuzenth glides purposefully through the air, looking for a challenge… to the Pens.

Catia is quiet again… sneaking glances much as Sen does: from rider to innocent weyrfolk.. and then back again, something jangling out-of-tune all the while at the back of her mind.

Sen smiles, nodding to the invitation "I would love it. I shall bring J'rant along too….he needs to get out more." she chuckles, slicing herdbeast into thin strips for easy rolling around her tuber sticks. "And perhaps the babe, too…."

L'it stalks over to the klah, dripping as he goes, muttering under his breath about the infernal weather of High Reaches. He doesn't sit, however, but rather surveys the room with klah mug in hand, blue eyes piercing and cold and decidedly irked. Can it just be the weather?

Central Bowl> In flight, Myrineth glides in from the central bowl.

"Well, some green or other is rising, if it's not Myrineth…" D'renn calmly interjects into the coversation. "The males have gone to the feeding pens… Trydanth's blooding his kill."

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

"Now that would certainly be wonderful." Areiah replies, lips quirked, expression calm. "I've only met J'rant once or twice; and no doubt Ysbryth would be fascinated by a baby." A pause - brief - followed by another smile, subtly warmer, vaguely tender. "And Finn, I'm sure, would enjoy the company as well. We'd be delighted to have you all for dinner some night."

Pens> And here's the star of the show, come to grace the pens with her presence… Trydanth pauses, midway through sucking blood from a just-dead wherry. Mmm-hmmm.

Pens> Myrineth swoops down, eyes glittering as she launches herself at a fat buck. Talons grip and snap neck easily as she lands upon the beast with a snarl, muzzle dipping to drink lustily.

Pens> Fuzenth drops from the sky with a bitter cry, taking no time to snag a herdbeast in sharp talons before settling on a ledge, seemingly calm as he sucks the life out of the poor beast, head swivelling towards a distant sound…..

Pens> Lightish blue swishes about in the rushing rainwater, smiling happily in the gloomy, dreary gray of the air about Brainleth. He literally pouncies on a large cow and watches the other herdbeasts scatter from about him. Then his eyes return to the dead one between his claws. Oh well, you lose. Teeth are sunken into his kill and he bloods it.

"Oh shards," Catia answers D'renn with a heartfelt sigh, getting to her feet and capturing the klah pot. White, she is, under her summer tan. "If You'd excuse me…"

Pollina dashes out of the coldness of ::between::!

Sen blinks, becoming confused "Finn?" she wonders idly, starting in on her greens…..and casting a weary glance at Catia.

Pens> Mixedth suckles, slurps, all but attacks his cornered beast of choice, wings fluttering idly as he continues. Eyes lift, then, touch on Myrineth, and slurping slows. Doesn't stop - but slows.

D'renn cocks his head to one side, brushing silver-stained curls from his eyes. "Oh aye. So it /is/ Myrineth, after all… Come on then, Catia." Getting to his feet, the bluerider reaches out to take her elbow.

"Leave me be!" Catia responds, glaring at D'renn before disappearing out into the pouring rain.

Bundle up 'gainst snow or sun! The bowl is open to seasons' wrath.
Central Bowl
It is an autumn sunset. Hardly any light penetrates through the thick clouds to colour the sky; it seems more like the sun is simply leaving, tired of the day. Rain still comes down endlessly, blown by the north wind.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Tierras, Jesse, Ria, Cheraes, Monarch, Poldhu, Gunwalloe, and Vibo.
Brown Piccath is here.

In the pens, Fuzenth 's gaze becomes not so distance as he finishes off a wherry, settling back on brown haunches to survey the glowing green, silent and watchful.

Open sky is exchanged for protecting stone.
Ground Weyrs

Pens> Myrineth struggles with the urge to do more than drink and then with a body shudder tosses the drained carcass aside before snagging another. Again muzzle dips, again she drinks not noticing the males in the area, why should she, they will have to prove themselves worthy of her attention if it comes to that. Right now /her/ attention is centered on the limp beast between her talons.

L'it comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Living Cavern> Areiah tips her head once, forward in a nod, first to Catia, then to D'renn, and finally, to Sen. "Sorry, yes, Finn. Fionchadd." Catia captures her attention once more, and pert nose is wrinkled, a sympathetic smile going to D'renn. "It's the dragon." she offers, rising from her seat to, if nothing else, observe. "Coming, Sen? Or is rain not good for you right now?" Wouldn't want to catch cold, after all.

Pens> No notice is taken of the green fire that lands somewhere in the pens along with him and the other dragons, as the blue is completely absorbed in his task. Long, ivory teeth never leave his chosen loser, his tongue coming out to lick every once and a while. Then, finished with this one, he pushes it aside, and lets out a shout of surprise as he notices Myrineth. Hey, she wasn't here just a moment ago, was she?

Living Cavern> Sen shakes her head "I have to experience flights myself…I prefer to avoid others if I can." is said with a smile. "But you go on, Reiah……perhaps you can learn something from it?"

Long, lazy steps bring N'ts into the ground weyr, arms laden with blankets and towels. "Dratted rain.." the aging rider growls, tenor low and far from musical. "Oh, m'sorry.. someone's green going up?" Towels are placed aside, settled onto a table, and stormcloud eyes shift, dance.

Pens> Trydanth watches, electric bright eyes shining benevolently at Myrineth as he continues to suckle up the blood from his second beast. One more… and then he'll wait.

L'it stalks in after Catia, grumbling about a man not being able to finish his klah before silly greens go proddy, although his cold eyes fix on the green's rider with avid fascination not wholly unrelated to a certain browns own watchful pose. He settles with his klah mug, leaning negligently 'gainst the wall, waiting, his fuze very short, temper more frayed than usual.

Living Cavern> D'renn shrugs, giving a very large sigh… and has the presence of mind to take a wineskin with him.
Living Cavern> D'renn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
D'renn comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Living Cavern> Guilt twinges behind sapphire eyes, and, mid-rise, Areiah settles back down. "Oh, no, it's all right. Ysbryth is watching from our ledge; no doubt she can keep me posted. I'll stay." Klah is reclaimed from its almost abandoned spot 'pon the trestle table, sipped at, and seat is cuddled back into.

"Mine." Catia answers N'ts coldly, settling cross-legged onto one of the wooden chest, klah in hand. "There's more in the pitcher if you want," she adds, looking at the complement of riders from beneath lowered lashes.

St'pid struts into the ground weyr, his eyes unfocused, but not in the usual conversation with his dragon, but a different sort of detachment. He's daydreaming. Though, if his everyday personality is any hint, he probably doesn't have much to actually /think/ about. Or rather, nothing to think /with/. "Oh, hi," she says, just now seeing the others.

Pens> Myrineth lifts her muzzle to look skyward for the briefest instant, eyes glittering with a combination of emotions and those same emotions war within her, hunger winning for the meantime. Almost lazily she snatches another young buck and a loud *crack* is heard just before he goes limp. A satisfied expression flickers across her muzzle as she dips once more, wings spread to cover her prize from all those around. Hers! She does /not/ share!

D'renn carries in a wineskin though, swinging it from one hand. "Or there's this," he offers the other rider, taking a perch on a table and swinging his legs in the same way.

Pens> Trydanth chooses his final animal, tossing the buck aside once the deed is done and it's drained of blood. Fuelled now, the blue springs into the air, settling onto a perch to watch, and wait. Mmmm. Nice green… and the rain makes her sparkle, too.

Tenor dips, and N'ts nods, ambling over to the klah pot. She meant him, right? Right. Ooh.. "Hey, sure. Thanks." And N'ts moves to'ard D'renn, taking up a mug and eyeing the 'skin. "What is it?"

D'renn passes the skin genially towards N'ts, keeping one eye on Catia. "Wine. Dunno. I just grabbed it…" D'renn's attention is not wholly on things of the flesh. Some of it's on things of Trydanth's flesh.

Pens> Brainleth's paws skitter across the mud as he snatches another loser, this time a young buck from a huddle of scared silly beasts. Haha, now he's hot. Two in a row! Voice is raised as he yells out in triumph. then he stops. Something is glowing. His swirling eyes follow the eerie green light to the delightful Myrineth, and stay there, wondering at this sight. What's going on? Second kill is forgotten, as many things are when you deal with this blue, and he simply stares at the green, unmoving.

Pens> Mixedth shuffles, cobalt muzzle dropping, pressing into warm flesh 'neath the showering. He does not need anyone to share. He can catch his own. This in mind, sloppy steps are taken closer to his next - and final - prey. An almost-pounce, and the dragon's full weight presses, leaving the beast quite trapped. Bite, suckle, and not another rumble is heard from the heap of fur.

L'it just sips his klah; after all, he needs to be alert now, not soused. Dragon lust is enough to haze any man's judgement without adding spirits to the mix. He settles his shoulders more comfortably, gaze still locked on greenrider's form, never wavering, though not amused; more irritation and hidden emotions are expressed in the cold eyes. He is well named, for his temper is short, and easily Lit, and flights seem to bring out the worst in him despite the usual calmness of his brown.

Catia narrows her dark eyes, still looking covertly at the riders. A soft curse does escape her though…. "Where in the name of Faranth has /T'vim/ got to?!" Outraged, the greenrider leaps from her seat and starts to pace at the weyrs' entrance, not even noticing rain and cold.

"Sweeps?" D'renn offers sagely, daringly too, considering. A large swig of wine will numb him to Trydanth's insistent desires.

Pens> Myrineth tosses aside the latest offering to her loveliness with almost a touch of sadness. Again her head turns skyward, rain dripping down her muzzle to wash what is left of the red away, leaving her in her full beauty of glowing green. Without warning, haunches bunch and wings snap as she takes to the air, leaving the males behind, but then, that was the plan all along.

A punch from Catia might also numb him to Trydanth's desires… but she chooses to ignore D'renn completely. Why break a perfectly good habit?

"Mm. Thanks." N'ts reaches, takes the skin, pours a carefully level amount into his vessel, then leaves his gaze to shift to Catia. "Weyrmate of yours?" Light, subtly curious - music returns. Yes, he sips, and deeply, observing the woman with perhaps a bit of lecherous overcautiousness. This fades, though, dulled by the drink.

Pens> Fuzenth just relaxes, though every muscle is tensed, ready to burst forth with energy at the proper time, the explosion building slowly; and then green rises, and brown follows with sudden intensity, a shot of bronze-brown fire into the sky after glowing form. Left behind, yes. But not for long.

St'pid stops and stares at the proddy rider blankly. T'vim? Who's T'vim? He's not T'vim is he? No he couldn't be or then she wouldn't be wondering where he was.

Pens> Myrineth leaps up Up UP into the air.
Central Bowl> In flight, Myrineth spirals higher, looping up past the Spindles themselves.

High Above the Bowl> Fuzenth shoots up from the dusty pens.

"Yes, T'vim's my weyrmate…" Catia answers through clenched teeth, suddenly whirling and stalking back inside, quite soaked. "D'renn, give me that wineskin."

High Above the Bowl> Trydanth shoots up from the dusty pens.
High Above the Bowl> Dale circles up from the Central bowl.

You what? D'renn meekly hands the skin over, not about to argue. His short, swinging legs slow, blue eyes falling closed. "Ahh, they're off…"

High Above the Bowl> Cynin shoots up from the dusty pens.

L'it's eyes close briefly, a hint of a smile and more of pride overcoming his hewn features for a moment as he is overwhelmed at brown's glory; and then they snap open, riveting on the returning Catia with the intent of a hawk circling his prey, soaring with his lifemate. "Yes…..they are." he mutters, and gulps klah. Whether any of them want it or not.

High Above the Bowl> Myrineth is climbing higher and higher, the rush of wind and rain pelting down adding to her mood. An angry hiss emits from her to be swished away in the gusts of wind as she spies those males climbing after her. She is /not/ some dainty first time flyer, not she. She has the turns of experience and the wisdom of those turns to outwit any that think they may catch her. Wings beat harder as she maintains the distance easily for the moment, her glow shining as a beacon to those that follow.

Catia paces, holding on tightly to the wineskin and taking occasional gulps. If she can't have T'vim, the wine will at least deaden her conscience. Completely ignoring the other riders, she sags into a corner, eyes closed.

High Above the Bowl> Fuzenth follows with almost relaxed ease, despite the explosion of his takeoff. He too is an experienced veteran of flights, and steadfast and strong wins over hasty and winded every time. He flies to follow, not catch, at this point in the game, though he keeps within a fair distance of the green, crafty gaze settling on that flicking tail, the shining glow of her hide. A worth prize to wait for, it seems.

High Above the Bowl> Trydanth has more Turns, and more catches to his name then /she/ could ever have flown. And yet experience may not be enough for the bold blue: wind and rain are enough to buffet him from his chosen course, no matter how keen he is to attain the glowing goal.

High Above the Bowl> Beacon is tracked, wings beat all the harder 'gainst the sky, and Mixedth climbs, climbs, climbs after the green. Not smug, but certainly overzealous, he dips, lifting on the next updraft to spiral on through, rain-spattered and happy. Experience is something he can boast, and likely would, were he not soaring 'neath the sprinkling of silver droplets showering everything.

Rade comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

High Above the Bowl> Brainleth follows after those following her. Oy, he even confuses himself. It won't take much to out wit him, and he doesn't think he can catch her. Well, he doesn't even /think/. Wings are beat through the sheets of water and his eyes follow the green glowing dragon and her tail of blue and brown followers. Experience, he's had, though he can't much remember those few flights that he has attended. He hasn't got much of a brain, you know. The blue is catching up, though slowly… or are the others falling behind?

D'renn opens his eyes, peering with longing at Catia. Or maybe just at the wineskin she clutches… the one she /stole/. "Rade," he greets the weyrling in a weary tone.

High Above the Bowl> Azrieth circles up from the Central bowl.

A blue rider steps over to the crowd of other riders, peering at Catia in that same detatched gaze. St'pid tilts his head to the right, listening in on Brainleth's thoughts and emotions.

"What are /you/ looking at?!" Catia spits out at St'pid, paying only enough attention to the room to know that he /is/ looking at her.

L'it is standing 'gainst a wall, leaning comfortably though his gaze is anything but as he watches Catia with single-minded intensity.

High Above the Bowl> From the lazy bails of wind hails Azrieth; smooth, charming, debonair though late. But that can only help appearances - he is the fashionably late one. Lavender swirling eyes alight in the pale colors from above, the tight, abstract forms he is performing to gain weight lay a difference in the lazy whirls of the warm, warm wind, warm as his beating heart aflutter.

St'pid replies softly, still glaring at the wonderful greenrider, "You."

"Well, don't." Catia snaps back, taking a quick drink of wine and then closing her eyes. If she can't see him, he can't see her?

Rade manages to stagger in, her gawdy blue eyes reflecting D'renn murkily. "D'renn." No exceptions of joy here, no pretense, she simply stamds meekly in the near crowd. Then she eyes Catia, noting to the other woman with a slight smile on her face, "You look so -good- in leather."

N'ts watches from behind the rim of his wineglass, carefully, cautiously. "This one's a real spitfire." he murmurs, this under his breath and directed at D'renn. Lips purse, and idly, he observes. Well, somewhat idly, at least.

High Above the Bowl> Myrineth swoops towards the Star Stones, tail flickering teasingly at those puny males in pursuit. Wings are beating in rythym with her heartbeat as she heads straight for the very apex, slowing down just enough to allow them to draw closer. With a bugle of delight she turns at the last moment and dives, form glowing against the rockface as she plummets in wild abandon.

D'renn shakes his mop of curls, running both hands through them as he watches Catia. "Oh aye… she can be. Very sharp-tongued sometimes," D'renn observes in reply to N'ts.

High Above the Bowl> Aerobatics are Trydanth's delight! Eyes glare fierce-red, laser beams to fix Myrineth in their sights… Copper-tinged wings work hard, swirling the blue between erratic thermals and always, always, as close to Myrineth as he can be… wings folding at the last to follow her dive.

Shrugging, St'pid says, "Okay." He turns away, but his eyes keep darting back to Catia. He can't help it, he's just as brainless as his dragon.

"You what?" Catia opens her eyes and stares bemused at Rade, flashes of green, blue and brown echoing through her mind. "Kiara made them for me," she answes eventually, eyes closing again although one hand curls and uncurls into a fist, settled on her thigh. That sharding 'mate of hers….

High Above the Bowl> Fuzenth's fuse finally snaps at the plummeting forms aerobatic deceit, a snarl left behind as he struggles to get his bulkier form to dive as quickly; wings fold and he drops, bugle trumpeting his intent now. He will catch, and tame, the wild green, his tail just skimming 'gainst the rock which almost became his downfall.

High Above the Bowl> Dip, soar, glide, and Mixedth follows, pulling sharply up and following flawlessly. Not quite losing him yet - rock isn't /that/ hard, after all, is it? Long body glides, presses on through the rain, the storm. Tail flickers, and, streamlined as he is, he leans into the winds, floating, then flying with an almost vengeance.

High Above the Bowl> Azrieth echoes dangerous hurtlements of his voice; a cry startled, raw, and weary beyond the caw of his voice. His spires dabble in the pale light of the sky backgrounding him, sensous hip twisting while he falls aback, pondering the next step he'll take to victory - aloof as if playing chess. Though those wild eyes say other words, facets to another mind of passion.

High Above the Bowl> Wings are turned at a downward angle as Brainleth swoops after his goal of splendored green, his eyes turning in a myriad of mixed colors and talons missing closely between impact between the other challengers'. Ooops, too low. Now he's below everyone. But, not having the thoughts and ideas a /normal/ dragon would have he stays in his below average position. That's okay, at least he's closer. He can't be a loser. All the losers he's know get eaten.

L'it's eyes become colder, but his look becomes hungrier as he pins Catia with his blue gaze, the other riders getting a sullen stares once in a while as well as he feels the jealousy and rivallry of a flight seeping in to irritate and inflame.

Rade smiles, lowering her eyes in mild apprehension. "Sorry, but you do look good in them. Kiara must be a talented weaver, though she wouldn't need much talent for likes of you … " she stops, shifting the weight on her other foot, barely realising what this is. "Why am I here?" she asks no one but herself.

D'renn's blue gaze lands on Rade, more than faintly amused. "It's a flight, dear," he answers her, down from his table now and headed on a perhaps futile mission to retrieve his wineskin. "And she does look good in them, doesn't she?"

Suddenly St'pid begins to tap his hands against the waist-high bedside table that is near him, cutting through the thin overlying cover of silence annoyingly. Deep brown eyes still stare at Catia, though under the cover of his shaggy thick bangs, ricocheting from her to the several other riders in the room from time to time.

D'renn sidles closer to Catia, reaching over her arm and pulling gently at the wineskin. "Catia dear…" he wheedles…

L'it hides a sudden smirk at the conversation on fashion, eyes glittering as he finally makes a comment, lazy and laconic from his position of tense lounging 'gainst stone "She's look better without them." is pointed out with perfect ease, though something else burns deeper in his blue eyes.

Catia releases the skin to D'renn, scowling with her eyes closed. "Take it…." She doesn't hear anything further away; all sounds are blocked out by the thrum of Myrineth's blood, and the howl of wind and rain.

High Above the Bowl> Myrineth is feeling glorious as she drops from the skies, the wind rushing past her body and the rain feeling like has been left behind with the pursuers. Once again, at almost the last possible moment she turns on a wingtip and rolls to one side to attempt one more climb. The exhilaration has taken it's toll though as she falters, wings tiring in spite of the energy she still feels. Tail droops just a little as she endevours to maintain her position away from them, but now it's only a matter of time.

Rade's gentle slope of chin and cheeks wanders o'er L'it - washing as languidly as the sun's kiss. " Yes, she would look better without them." It of course isn't what she's really saying right now, it's the proddiness. Really.

High Above the Bowl> Three beasts Trydanth drained, and still the energy and vigor remain, acting as a force on Trydanth's desires, sending him streaking ever higher in pursuit. Dodging a brown with inborn skill, a twist and a turn borne of pure desparation bring him neatly below the green.. who must surely falter soon.

High Above the Bowl> Yes, energy rises, as does Mixedth, pressing hard into the wind, growling defiance at friction - all that keeps him from the point of interest. Broad wings spread, tilt, push with strength usually untapped until, and just barely, the wall is avoided, air sliced through by sapphire slate.

High Above the Bowl> Fuzenth's drop is fast, too fast, and he has to pull up, though he manages to do so just as Myrineth rolls. Wings snap out, stopping him midair, and he bugles, tail flicking as he reaches out to twine with green, trying to turn her flagging energies and his chance peice of luck to his advantage. Wings strain to maintain position, rain dripping off the 'spars as he glides closer, his intent clear.

D'renn sneaks quietly away from Catia, taking a long drink of much-needed wine… Blood heating with the alcohol much as Trydanth's does with lust. And lust flickers in D'renn's blue eyes, too… He aims to rest an arm on Rade's shoulders, passing her the skin. "Alright, kid?"

High Above the Bowl> Of time, of time, what is time? Liquid is Azrieth; in utterance of the simplicities of his movement, alluring, like the flickering of a candle in darkness. Hypnotising. The membranes of his wings, sails alightening his featherlight body along with Myrineth, trying to capture her. Flickering of a tail is sharp, the wind, the quick beat of his fluttering heart continues as he dodges, presses forth, legiments tearing him side to side wryly as he looses himself in passion - that passion - he comes. He comes. Come hither to him?

L'it grins at Rade briefly before he too is sucked into the maelstrom of dragonlust, the emotion overpowering as brown strives to win green.

Catia slides from her seat, poised lightly to dive or run, whichever Myrineth spurs her to do. Eyes are squeezed tightly shut, one hand worries at the open neck of her blue shirt.

Eyes flutter as she looses herself - finally - to Azrieth. Rade becomes unafraid, watching Catia, the darkness in her eyes continuing to watch and wait; to ponder and comtemplate; to stand as dragons do in the dance of love and lust.

High Above the Bowl> Muzzle is pushed through the incessant winds and water, drenched by the splashes shot at him from his fellow chasers. Excitement pumps through dragon veins and flows from his beating wingsails, only to be washed away by the downpour. The wet wind tears away his slightly drained trumpet, whipping at the tip of his tail in defiance as it does so. The storm cannot be beat! But this Brainleth still tries, flipping suddenly to the right and down and then up in pursuit of the green fire that might warm him free of this biting cold. Leg muscles are tightened against the unseen terror of the rain and he notices Myrineth's dropping. Could this be his chance? Wings carry him slowly upwards, silently sneaking up on the green dragon.

D'renn abandons solicitude and the wineskin both, edging toward Catia with a faint hope burning through his sinews. Did Trydanth….?

Catia is worrying her lower lip, frantic…. and yet still, so very still.

St'pid trots about the room nervously, viewing the scene that his dragon watches firsthand. The tapping of his boots are nearly as annoying as his fingers thrumming on the tabletop. But hey, he's annoying even when he's not trying, right?

Rade isn't trully still. Nay, simply waiting, waiting to *pounce*.

And Catia's poised, still…. nervous gestures betraying her worry. Which will it be? Will she even care?

L'it's snap open glazed and full of fire and lust; he will be very irritable if he must find a way to ease its intensity. But there is always a willing drudge to satisfy dragondesire if his brown wins not.

High Above the Bowl> Myrineth falters for the last time as flagging energies make for capture by bugling boy, his piece of luck and his intent clear and accepted. Almost wearily she allows Fuzenth to twine with her, the rain and the storm covering the remainder of their passion from prying eyes.

Catia turns even paler than before… and runs, pushing past the heavy leather curtain into the fortunately-empty inner ground weyr.

Ducking 'neath the heavy weyrhide curtain, you enter a smaller cavern.
Inner Ground Weyr

Ground Weyr> "Shards!" is D'renn's loud exclamation…. and the bluerider snatches up his wineskin and sags into a corner. Can't even get back to his weyr.

High Above the Bowl> Brainleth watches as all others drop down and off, but he keeps pursuing. He will not be beaten. Then he notices that the green fire that he has been following for so long has been doused. He is a loser. Uh-oh. Hopefully he doesn't get eaten. The blue falls out of the sky, into the bowl to wait for his rider.

High Above the Bowl> Trydanth shivers, rain cascading from electric-blue wings as he banks and dives downwards.
High Above the Bowl> Trydanth drops lower into the Weyr's caldera.

Ground Weyr> Rade rolls her eyes over D'renn and his wine in the corner, wondering; pondering, " Oh, what the heck." She wanders over, asking him, " Can I have some of that wine?"

High Above the Bowl> Fuzeth's wings spread wide, a steadying influence on the rain and wind as they take the weight of both bodies, neck twining with loving lust round Myrineth's, gently lowering both to the ground….

Ground Weyr> She wants to come near D'renn? The bluerider holds out the skin, beckoning Rade closer. "Here. Drink lots. It helps." he tells her in a hoarse voice.

Ground Weyr> L'it stalks after Catia, eyes burning with lust to match his dragons, ignoring the other riders as he follows the one who rides green.

L'it enters.

Ground Weyr> St'pid scruches up his nose and lets out a gasp of failure. Oh well, the flight is now already forgotten and he heads out to wait for his dragon to land.

L'it stands just on this side of the curtain, staring at you with a slight smirking look, icy eyes burning with certain fire, before he moves towards you, his intent clear.

Ground Weyr> " It helps?" Rade's scratchy voice starts. Her slender fingers reach out, yearning for that wine. " Benden?" Asks she, ever so hopefully. Of course, she really doesn't care what brand.

Catia groans, deep in her throat…. clothes already half-ripped aside as she moves towards L'it… her desires just as perfectly clear….. And we all know what happens next, don't we?

A large dark curtain falls on the scene, which is perfectly obvious.

Ground Weyr> D'renn brushes his fingers over Rade's, steadying the skin into her hand. "Drink it…" he groans again. "And I dunno. Red." Blood-red.

Ground Weyr> Blood red, indeed. Delicious. Tongue runs o'er her lips, she lowers herself beside D'renn, brushing back the fingerwidth of curls. " Alright, I'll drink it," Rade takes the glass, tilting her head, swallowing the delicious sour sweet of grapes. Liquid it slides down her throat.

Ground Weyr> Rade scoffs, stopping the gulp to see what little left. " I did! See how generous I am." Well, it's not a little bit. One third.

Ground Weyr> Seeing as D'renn passed it to her only two-thirds full, that's not bad. Red wine is poured swiftly into the bluerider's mouth, his eyes close in enjoyment of this, at least.

Ground Weyr> Now it's Rade to complain. " Hey, I want some more," she says, drunken on her angst. " More!" Although her voice sounds dangerous, she slinks - languidly spread herself on the ground. Not dangerous.

Ground Weyr> D'renn passes the skin back, head cocked to one side as Trydanth is finally allowed to filter his thoughts into D'renn's once more. "Kay's home." he notes, all his worries over. "Enjoy the wine…." and D'renn's gone.
Ground Weyr> D'renn leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License