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Post by tarra on Jul 11, 2010 4:13:34 GMT -5
The sting of Jingth's words was not lost on him; but though they burned in his intellect, they were lost in Morreliath's consciousness even as he lost himself in the power and rhythm of the Flight. So it was that he missed Behruth's greeting completely, his entire attention focused on the words the golden queen spoke. Later in replaying the scenes mentally he might recall the brown's odd dip of a wing as he approached, but at the moment all was swept away in the fire and adrenaline of Flight. Let her be angry with him; oh yes, let her eat him if she wished. In Flight he was what he would never be in reality, even as his rider took on the aggression he would never accept in daily life. He spread his wings wide as he continued to follow her upwards, the touch of his mind no less gentle than before.
I come late from patrolling the territories, it murmured, I was late from defending these lands.
His own muscles were beginning to burn - he had not blooded any bucks like the others, he had come straight from patrol and was weary. But he was bronze, and to follow her Flight despite everything was an honour granted her that he would not rescind, I come in Flight in spite of all.
She folded her wings then, and plunged. Morreliath stalled his ascent for just the briefest of seconds as the golden form, sunlike, fell through the pack of males just before him. He was not within the flock itself but away on its fringes, which gave him space to make his own drop to follow her. But he did not fall as other males did, in plunging descent - his own drop was gradual, an incline, offering him a perfect view from above of everything. He rolled as he fell, expanding his depleting energies with skill and wit, generating a display of wings and talons and graceful flashing neck with a minimum of effort even as he sought to keep a height advantage. If he went too far down now he might not find the strength to meet a steep climb again.
She broke away then towards the river's mouth and he whirled with great wings flashing to follow her. Having been behind at first, he was now ahead as she doubled back towards the Weyr, and the dance she danced for them took any regret he might have felt at his lateness away in a breath. This was worth it, whether he won or not, it was all worth it. Wary still of the other males (in particular those bronzes) he followed her ascent as she rose once more, ignoring the burning strain in his lungs and limbs as he spoke.
Beautiful you are, so beautiful.
S'kor saw the blank disapproval in Meira's eyes, but did not back down. He did hold his ground, however, head bowed to acknowledge her wishes. Competitive cunning told him that submission was the best action at this point in time, and that she would choose her suitor. At her invitation, the dear beauty, though really couldn't she see he was the best? Could she not see that what he did, he did for her? That he was proving himself the strongest, the most capable and most able of this lot for her? Animal instinct had all but replaced his own humanity already, and if he had been a dragon his eyes would have shone a purest purple.
He felt more than saw other males crowding in - browns mostly, and with a hiss S'kor raised his head to glare back at them, his Flight-glazed eyes glaring and brazen. It was something that would never have happened with the mild-mannered bronzerider in his normal senses, but there was nothing normal at all about now. His gaze settled in particular on two: a young man showing a silent snarl, lips pulled back to show teeth; and an older one with a hand clenched into a fist. His own features became a smirk, daring Sel'n and R'ven (names did not come to mind of course, but their expressions burned in his sight) to do something. Did they think this was a game - just a flight for the sake of flying like one of those common greenflights that occured almost daily? The apparent reluctance they had, the way they held back and kept holding back, all showed seemed to imply it. Couldn't they show a little spirit, a little recognition that this goldrider deserved more than continual hesitation in the way her suitors approached her?
So lost in lust already was S'kor that he failed to comprehend at all it was Meira's first Flight, and the rest might be holding back for her sake. Flightlust had always hit him hard, unbearably so; and he was now lost irrevocably to it even as Morreliath lost himself to the power of Jingth's flight.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Jul 11, 2010 10:34:38 GMT -5
The male watched Jingth's passing form for a moment, admiring her beauty and grace, before he gently overlaid his mind over Chaoth's just as if they were working together as part of a wing, bypassing the talking and letting the brown know his intentions as they surfaced. And in turn reading the younger male's. Oh yes that seemed like fun! He twisted in a loop, marking Chaoth's path just before the other brown hit his dive and plummeted with startling velocity. Behruth let the displaced air drag him down after the bigger male, keeping his own body streamlined in the loose coil around his twisting brother. It was difficult to keep up that speed, but other divers around him helped drag the male down faster, and he did nothing to resist them.
In fact, he allowed himself to plunge further than Chaoth and most of the other chasers, putting himself below Jingth when she suddenly turned back. Brushing his brown friend's mind encouragingly, he let the male in on the secret of flying at angles to the large-winged males, letting their wingstrokes add buoyance to your own. Come Chaoth should take one side and he'd take the other and they'd save their wings a bit, yes? The small male noticeably was buffeted higher as he tacked into first Trilaranth's strokes, and then Dsoleth's. Behruth brushed the male's mind, as he wasn't one of the brawlers or the ominous brooders. Read: Weith, Kierjaarth, Morreliath, Kaaoloth and Trilaranth. Play a little leapfrog? He promised it worked, as long as you let the air generated by the others' wings help you up. Ruth felt his muscles taking on the familiar ache, but he wasn't intending to stop any more than any of the others.
M'ta blinked for a moment at Morreliath, eyes drifting toward Trilaranth and Kaaoloth, then narrowing on the other two lingerers who looked more - lost - than intense like the first three. Tch, so few dancers. He flashed a bright smile at Meira. That was okay, though, because two others were joining in. Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet in time to Chaoth's clapping, an appreciative grin was given Dsoleth. Dancing! He took a step back and spun in place, then skipped over to Chaoth, catching her by the elbow to swing her around with him. Back toward Jingth, elbow catching with hers in a rather...spirited...form of a do si do. He bounced over toward Dsoleth, rounding him in the same way and pushing him toward Jingth. Dance, dance! Jingth wanted to so why wouldn't they?
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Post by Sheari on Jul 11, 2010 11:49:49 GMT -5
If she didn't want me to Chase, she would have dismissed me. She did not, and so I Chase.[/i] The words were bland a very matter-of-fact, almost a monotone. He didn't add the 'and you may deal with it' that he so desperately wanted to; no point in distracting himself with banter to a rival that would rather push him from the competition. The younger bronze didn't expect to win, but he would put forth the effort to show he wasn't lazy either.
Flying so close was dangerous, even to the elder dragons and the brush from Kierjaarth scared him. Weith faltered in his wing beats and lost a bit of ground. He had now fallen to the back of the pack and it frustrated him immensely...until Jingth fell again. The dragon found he was able to position himself quite nicely in the flock of bodies and wings. He felt himself diverting his attention from Jingth just enough to keep an eye on Kierjaarth. He would not let the bronze get so close again, the fear had faded but had left the film of slight paranoia in its wake.
The trick was quick and not expected. Weith struggled with it, being the least experienced follower. He tried to maneuver himself in a twist, closing his wings to flip himself faster, before the gold twisted upwards again. What was she doing? The violet hues had a lace of orange jealousy wind through them before it was snuffed out as Jingth broke away again.
The level line of flight helped Weith maintain speed and increase it as needed, fixating himself towards the middle. The currents of wind and the drag from the smaller browns helped him reserve energy and strength. Why work harder than you had to? The ascent was more gradual this time, and she was leading them back to the weyr, but Weith felt there were more tricks to come.
R'men walked forward more, getting close until Meira held her hand out to gesture S'kor to stop his advance. Yes, the male should have known better than to violate the wishes of the Riser. His lip twitched as he frowned towards Morreliath. When he realized the hand was not for him, he continued, until he was a good four feet behind the other man. The blanket billowed softly, and it fell completely from his shoulders. R'men didn't feel the length of fabric slip, hands still yet grasping the corners.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Jul 11, 2010 17:04:29 GMT -5
He was having much more fun than any bronze should be in a gold flight and actually Kierjaarth would smile if it was possible for dragon muscles to move that way. Perhaps he shouldn't get so ahead of himself though. There was company and a major wrench in his plans. While the actual chasing part wasn't much of a bother for the twenty turn old veteran - his muscles ached only slightly, noticeably but not horribly - there was something of a moral question in his mind now. You see, he couldn't exactly remember why - dragons hardly ever did - but he knew he had shared time on a wing with this new comer. Actually he remembered something of some bad feelings coming off of that Turn old situation from the hatching grounds.
He huffed audibly. Morreliath was insufferable, and while teasing and prodding Weith was fun, it served more selfish purposes if he were to take out some of his aggressions on the other bronze, but then, he had promised Jingth that he would handle the situation with her bronze clutchbrother. Indeed she did not seem all that pleased with the appearance of the last late comer, but would it only inspire her ire more if he were to go above and beyond and bother him wouldn't it? It would be a presumptuous tactic....but, but, just a little bit of a taunt couldn't hurt anything? How could he have his cake and eat it too?
Pleased with the sight of a vexed baby bronze, Kierjaarth pulled away again and turned his attentions seemingly on the race and race alone so that he may not be caught off guard by the queen's change of direction. Doubling back like that could very well cause a pile up of big bulky brown and bronze, but all disaster was avoided, and like all the others he found room enough to throw his wings out and pivot his body around with a twist of his tail for a bit of flair and functionality. Not to be out done, he tried his own hand at leading the pack and using the bit of finesse his slimmer build gifted him. Sure the browns could take advantage of his hard work slicing holes in the air, but he had no qualms with any of the non-metallic dragons anyway, all of them were regularly more tolerable in day to day life. Kierjaarth pulled up next to Morreliath and with a certain shake of his head the dragon was daring him to a challenge, though words were saved for now. He didn't want to waste too much time with some extra curricular activities.
Seriously? Hands right over his face as he slumped down against the wall he had chosen. Mi'rah was virtually beside himself with the arrogance and extremely poor timing of the late S'kor. There was a desire more than anything to just reach out and literally bonk the man on the head...just like a whack-a-mole...but no. He was doing an astoundingly good job not being a rabble rouser despite the emotion that had washed over to him from Kier. Practice, experience, and a little bit of stubborness though played a large part in his control
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jul 11, 2010 17:45:11 GMT -5
She made no response to Morreliath. Part of her knew that Selenitas in its entirety was much more important than herself, but – that part wasn’t dominant and there was a flare of bright fury. So no other dragon could have taken patrol? This was her day, her Flight, all hers, and he sought to make excuses for his lateness? It was tempting to dismiss him entirely, and how easy it would be…and yet…and yet. Jingth didn’t. His presence was one of many, did not register as being important. Trilaranth’s offer was generous…Whether he is here or not does not matter to me, the gold replied, brushed light thanks and approval across the brown’s mind.
They were beginning to dance for her. Jingth crooned to Behruth and Chaoth, flicking her tail lightly, blues touching the violet of her gaze momentarily before she twisted upwards in another near-vertical rise. The gold paused a moment, glancing across her males, an almost affectionate touch fleetingly offered to each – including Weith and Morreliath. Despite her disapproval (one of them much more personal than the other), they had still come and she was pleased that they had.
She continued upwards, the final ascent. Her wings throbbed from the effort of the ups and downs that her Flight had taken, and most of her pursuers were brown – she didn’t want to wear them out before the end, didn’t want to be left with only the bronzes, two of which she particularly objected to, to choose from. And yet…the gold hit a rising thermal, let it carry her up, higher, faster, until the ground below sprawled like a living map beneath them…and yet, which of them…?
Morreliath and Weith were dismissed fairly rapidly in her mind – the former was late and the insult was not made up by his words, pretty though they were; the latter was simply unacceptable to her. Kierjaarth? Her co-conspirator, partner in crime…she was happy that he had had fun for the duration of her Flight, and even more pleased by his choice of victim. But he was bronze. Jingth twirled in the sky, heading ever upwards, with occasional quick almost-horizontal breaks to allow her wings time to rest. Dismissal was brushed against the minds of the three bronzes – Kierjaarth’s laced with quiet approval and amusement.
In the end, she preferred her browns, did Jingth.
Kaaoloth, Dsoleth, Chaoth, Trilaranth, Behruth.
Behruth and Dsoleth were undoubtedly her favorites of the five – but did favoritism really matter in Flight? Her wingtips trembled slightly with the strain of continuing her upwards path, the gold momentarily closing her eyes as if it would ease the pain. The other three had been lovely too, Kaaoloth in his loyal pursuit; Chaoth with his dance with Behruth; Trilaranth and his concern regarding Morreliath…
When her eyes opened, she was startled to find the males closer than she had anticipated, Jingth’s wings flaring wide to put distance between herself and Chaoth, more reflexive than rational. The sudden change in direction hurt – her ascent faltered, and the next moment, she was clinging to familiar brown hide, her own wings straining to hold them up. Jingth crooned, eyes sliding closed trustingly, and she whispered, quiet and content, a pleased rumble starting in her throat, Dance with me.
It was rather a belated concern, that she might be paying too much attention to just M’ta, not enough to any others – and not one she had time to linger on. Meira smiled shyly at Merridan, pleased that the other brown would want to join in, and then at T’san. She almost went over to him then, but then M’ta returned from his brief dancing with Merridan and she followed his lead. Jingth’s dismissal of the bronzes came almost immediately after she was released, Meira turning back to S’kor.
“You can go,” she said, softly, and nodded at R’men to indicate that he was included in the dismissal – and then Mi’rah, although there was a quieter “Thank you” added to the tail end of it, a flicker of a smile. Then she turned back to her browns, stepping towards them, a little more confidently now that one had been Chosen. She reached out to catch T’san’s hands in hers, tugging lightly, and whispered, a mimicry of Jingth, “Dance with me…”
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