till we have faces (gold jingth’s flight)

[Tashe]

Sails extending to their fullest, Ismaroth let himself glide, giving his wings a rest. He wasn't tired, not much anyway. He could still go on for quite a while, especially with the way this flight was going. Opening his mouth, Ismaroth tried to scoop some of the cloud into his mouth. Drinking on the go, he thought, though I don't get much from these. Licking the condensation from around his mouth, the Brown tucked in his legs as he swung his tail downward, pumping his wings he began to gain altitude steadily. Left, right, sideways. He managed to keep up with Jingth as she continually changed direction, his body was considerably more maneuverable than the Golds. And yet he didn't try to overtake her in the circles and turns, sure he might have gotten a little closer, but generally stayed an acceptable distance behind.

Eyes turning onto Mavenath as the Bronze surged upward to momentarily match Jingth's height, Ismaroth rumbled with interest. Pumping his wings, the Brown rose quickly until he was perhaps a muzzle's distance past Chaoth. He rumbled again. A race with in a chase? It sounded kinda funny to him, but perhaps it could prove to be interesting. (He wasn't going to let Mavenath race Jingth alone after all. He might be in good spirits, but that was an unfair advantage if he ever saw one.)

E'rro had briefly turned his attention on T'mund, an eyebrow raised. He could only assume that the boy had done something, or attempted to do something, that wasn't particularly friendly. Meira's reaction told him that much, since he hadn't seen what the younger boy had started to do. Inexperienced follies. Eyes tracking back to the Queen, E'rro was disappointed to see her take the Bronze's hand. Perhaps then, his idea hadn't been a good one? Well he could think of other if... oh! Nevermind. The Brown grinned in response to Meira, although he wanted more than her smile, he settled for absorbing as much attention from her as he could get.

Trotting away from Cr'oph (who was tagged by Meira), E'rro watched the Bronze as he tagged T'mund. Stepping backward slowly, the Brown tied his long mane back into a runner's tail as he eyed the youngest of them all. He was ready to run if the other male tried to come after him. A glance to Merridan showed him that she too had the same idea. Too bad they were in sand. It was definitely five times as hard to run on it than on solid ground... either way, it was going to be fun.

[Ruby]

He was here for her, of course, and that was why he could not relax, could not play. It seemed an easy flight so far, but he had heard his brothers and sisters talking, had seen Rajnith's first flight. Competitors were never to be trusted. Nonetheless, there was no point if the Queen wasn't pleased, so Jagjith made an effort to appear looser, which was adequately successful. It wasn't that he wasn't having fun, in his own way; Jagjith just wasn't obvious in his emotions, ever. As Jingth twisted over him and Chaoth under, Jagjith replied to Jingth's croon with a growl of his own - a playful growl, like a canine chasing a ball, not a threat. Tucking his wings, he executed a tight barrel roll, shooting past the dancing dragons and turning upwards just short of a cloud. See, he could play too! Maybe?

Still, he didn't let the beauty out of his sight even for a second (except when she herself entered cloud banks, nothing he could do about that). Executing a tentative loop or two himself, mostly to take advantage of the same winds Jingth was using, Jagjith continued to climb, staying clear of the other males. While Mavenath canted left, Jagjith drifted right, attempting to match the bronze - closest to Jagjith himself in color, if larger and shinier - stroke for stroke. It didn't quite work, because while Jagjith was big for a brown, he had never quite matched the bronzes. His smaller wingspan needed more beats per minute to keep him in the air, but at least he got the burst of speed and the slight rotation. Close enough - whatever Mavenath could do, he could do better, right?

T'mund struggled for a moment, flailing awkwardly against S'rei's hand, not totally understanding what had intercepted his flight. If he had had more of his mind left, it would have been an easy enough twist to escape, and he could have continued his assault on Cr'oph - but if he had more of his mind left, he never would have considered attacking the much bigger, taller, and stronger rider in the first place. Still, though, S'rei's hand didn't leave T'mund's shoulder, and the Brownrider did not appreciate that. Opening his mouth wide, he - Oh, but Meira was speaking. T'mund froze in the act of biting S'rei's finger, but the Bronzerider was lucky. Meira had taken his attention fast enough, and teeth hadn't even found flesh.

Her frown seemed to make his whole world crumble, and the Brownrider found tears in his muddy, nearsighted eyes. Dashing them away with the back of his hand before the could fall, he spluttered, "But we - we didn't - Mavenath was trying to -" But she was gone, his explanation unheard (or at least incomplete). "You don't understand!" he muttered as she turned away, going back to the big ugly Bronze. He'd only been trying to protect her, to keep her from fouling her wing on the Bronze's, but everyone thought he was being selfish. Story of his life. Crossing his arms, T'mund settled into a full-blown pout, shoulders humped up protectively against the dawn light. Only Cr'oph's touch brought him out of it a little, but that was only because he thought it was Meira, at first.

It wasn't, of course. Looking up sullenly at the Bronzerider, he mumbled, "Not playing," before Jagjith tightened up on his mind. Play nice, she will not appreciate the disruption, and there is nowhere to hide, the Brown warned, turning his attention back to the flight in the sky. "Fine," T'mund said, one hand snaking out to tag Cr'oph again before the Brownrider floundered away, putting E'rro between himself and the Bronzerider. That scar looked dangerous enough to keep Bronzer at bay. "Never said no tag-backs," he taunted, backpedaling until he tripped over a clump of grass, landing on his tail. Ouch.

[Requiem]

There was a decidedly lazy quality to Salenth's flight. Nothing was done swiftly, his path taking him in loose curls through the wider gaps between dragons. He wound about them as if he were one of the smallest of Pern's dragons - though in slow motion - his long form buoyed by the great waves of heat coming off the sand and rocks of the desert. Thermals such as these could be found nowhere else. A man might soar here, with an expanse of leather in a light frame and a suitably high point from which to start. Catch wind and soar high above the clouds. For creatures made to fly...

And here Salenth climbed easiest of all. The sheer surface area of his wings guaranteed that much. This was perhaps one of the only places on Pern, excepting the buffeting winds of a great storm, where the bronze dragon could move with speed surpassing that of chromatic colors. Nor did he use it, really, didn't put too much effort into powering his way upward. Merely cut into this or that air pocket, this or that slipstream, this or that thermal, playing through them with the confidence of decades of flying. All were tools.

Twirling between two browns, he noted the race of his bronze offspring and Chaoth up above, swirling after them with a flick of tail and lazy barrel roll. Straight vertical was so limiting when all the sky stretched out before you. Playing on his winds, Salenth burst through cloud, the dark, metallic gleam of his hide all the brighter for Jingth's glow. He reflected her light as the moons do the suns.

There was a peacefulness to S'rei that was Salenth's influence; the bronze was enjoying himself. The man kept hold of T'mund's shoulder until Meira's sharp voice snapped at him, the bronzerider cocking his head slightly to one side. His acknowledgement of her thanks was no more than a nod. Speaking seemed out of place here. S'rei faded back again, no longer needed and not interested in displaying for Meira. Salenth would chase. If Jingth momentarily lost her mind, Salenth sired strong hatchlings, but there wasn't a dragon here that didn't know her preferences. Besides...Salenth had never suffered His to win Flights for him. Their usual arrogance.

Arms slung loosely over chest, the bronzerider watched the beginnings of the game of tag rather indifferently. The younger men would be competitive toward each other and likely ignore him, so he saw no reason to move. Cr'oph, T'mund, E'rro and Merridan could worry about the game. Not that he wouldn't participate should he be invited...but Salenth was of a generation all his own. Despite Sel'n being close in age to S'rei, even Kaaoloth was a good deal younger than Salenth. They were in the midst of children.

[Avu]

Jingth purred pleasantly in response to Mavenath, the gold arcing away from him in an almost lazy roll, but the acceptance of his challenge flickered bright blue in her eyes; an outward sweep of one wing was drawn outwards from her body to include all of them, the lovely males, although of course she brushed nearly against Mavenath’s side in doing so. It was fitting—he had been the one to suggest it, after all. The next second she’d flicked both wings close against her sides, dipping into a wind to add to the burst of speed that carried her on an unerringly straight path. She could’ve had the advantage in the race of being the one to lead, but it wasn’t intended to deceive. She just wanted to fly.

She kept a cautious gaze below, scanning the trees for some landmark, watching their shadows dip over the dark forest below, until there was a flash of brown in the corner of her eye. Jingth twisted, breaking out of the high-speed race to loop backwards, humming approvingly. How lovely of them to keep up with her, but…she glanced mischievously at Chaoth, rolling over herself to brush her wings over his back, daringly close. Brother… (He was, wasn’t he? Jingth was fairly certain of that.) You’ve done well to earn your wings. The statement was blatantly affectionate. She’d always liked Chaoth; he was nice. (And not Weith—also a very important factor.) Fly with me?

It was an offer for one; Jingth made that clear with the dismissive flick of her tail to the others. Chaoth was good; Chaoth was hers. She didn’t necessarily want to be Caught just yet…but she didn’t see why they couldn’t fly for a while yet, even if the race, the lack of practice over the months, had taken their toll on her wings. It was a pleasant ache, though, and she could push a while further…the gold’s wing brushed over Chaoth’s spine, her playful sideways roll taking her to his side again.




((So. I am so, so, SO sorry that I'm so late on this--and that this post is so full of suck. Just, school has been eating me alive and yeah, I promise the babies will make up for it.))

[Rowana]

The joy of flying was fueling Chaoth's wings as he raced. The others were strong flyers and it was a good competition. He might have felt a touch more competitive under the circumstances, but Jingth's desires were infectious. Win or lose, it was simply amazing to fly at these speeds again. He found himself pushing harder to gain more speed, breathing deeply of the thin, desert air. This was truly what he and his fellow dragons were made for.

Chaoth's pace drew closer to Jingth, eyes brightening at the sight of her so close. She twisted towards him and he rolled with her movements. A deep, loving croon escaped his throat at her invitation. Of course, dear Sister, he chimed back softly. Let us fly. What male could say no to such an honor? Chaoth arched his back and rose with her, his wings brushing hers. They need not hurry, for today the sky was theirs and theirs alone.