Glass on the Wind [[Nikeath and Tiny Rise]]

[neeuqtar]

Tiramnet hated dawdling. Lazing about had never been her style, and she was finding her self-imposed day of rest to be completely stifling. Nikeath almost completely blocked the external entrance to their weyr, in deep and dreamless sleep. The light levels in the weyr slowly fluctuated with the dragon's slow breathing as Tira paced, Suzerain clinging to her hair and blessedly silent. That likely had a lot to do with Tiny having removed herself to sleep on the other green a few hours ago.

Nikeath had been sleeping for nearly thirty candlemarks. Even the rain had not wakened the dragon.

With a growl of frustration, Tiramnet grabbed an empty mug of what had been klah and chucked it at the narrow sliver of sky and canyon that was visible above Nikeath. The cup sailed through the air into nothingness, doing almost nothing to relieve Tira's cabin fever. Suzerain imitated his chosen's growl. Magnif'cent waste, Suzerain say![/i] Tira rolled her eyes. Never had she heard of a salamandyr so obsessed with eloquence as her Suzerain. At least the little arrogant beastie was trainable, after a fashion. So long as his bad behavior got no notice, and his good behavior got lavish attention, he was a very well-behaved 'mandyr indeed.

"I love you, too," she said. On the weyrledge, Nikeath houghed, suddenly waking up. The dragon leapt to her feet, wings mantled, her gray-green hide glinting in the misty rain as if she was burnished sea-glass. The band of emerald green around her eyes shone the brightest, a stunning setting for the red-violet gemstones which were the dragon's eyes. Tiramnet almost staggered from the expected flood of Flight-lust, her face paling visibly as Suzerain's talons dug into her scalp. The dragon snarled loudly, turning to look out at the Weyr. Oh, was she ready to Rise!

Perched on the dragon's muzzle, Tiny surveyed the world. The fire-lizard was as green as Nikeath's mask, and gleamed as bright. She trilled, a sound swallowed up by the deep growl emanating from her mount's chest and throat. She didn't fly often, but when she did, she was oh-so-pretty. And she did intend to Fly. Oh yes she did!

The bronze salamandyr was ignored despite his protests that he did not like this. Tiramnet strode forward towards her dragon, tracing her fingers along the gleaming hide of her dearest mind-mate, to finally stop with her hand resting on Nikeath's shoulder. The dragon gave no sign that she noticed as Tira closed her eyes, breathing slowly as she let the Flight run in her mind's eye. Where she could Run, where Nikeath could Fly. The stairs; the thermals. The Chase. The Choice.

Voicing a call half bugle, half roar, Nikeath leapt from her weyrledge with a thunder of wingbeats, leaving Tira standing on the ledge, lifting her arms to the sky. The green dropped into the canyon, building speed and heading downriver. Tiramnet started laughing, a sound of delirious joy. A small form peeled off of the dragon, tumbling through the air nose over tail-tip before stabilizing, catching a breeze and lifting higher. Tiny sneezed, slightly offended at Nikeath's behavior, and spread her wings to the cold wind. In a slightly feminine motion, Tira tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, eyes scanning rapidly over the weyr and the ground she was about to traverse.

Without further pause, the woman stepped out along her weyrledge, treading the paths to the top of the canyon without hardly thinking. Her heart beat faster from the adrenaline and from desire, and her lips parted with heated breath. The water in the air beaded her braided and mussed hair, crowning her in droplets of glass as she strode up onto the canyon road. Tiramnet rolled her shoulders and smiled in expectation, a feral expression more akin to a baring of teeth. Oh, boys~

Atop her head, Suzerain sulked. This was the worst.

Nikeath swooped over the river, searching for a thermal. Her massive form swept towards the beach -- there! Flaring her wings, the green dragon caught the pillar of roiling, warmer air lifting from the sand of the beach. The air was not hot by any standard. Everything was cold. Misting rain drifted on the cool winds, and Nikeath voiced another bugle, calling the males of the Weyr. Who would dare to Chase her -- her, the largest green, a proven warrior, the most worthy female in the Weyr! Was she not stunning, deserving of the finest? She hesitated to climb to the clouds just yet, for if they could not see her, how could they begin the Chase? Impatiently, she glided in and out of the thermal, maintaining altitude in a clear holding pattern. The green snapped her tail, sending the sharp sound of a whipcrack into the canyon.

They needed to COME!!

[Sheari]

Inside the weyr Weith slumbered. He and His had finally fallen asleep after countless sleepless hours during the night. The bronze dragon's "depression" had taken quite the toll on His, though fortunately it only amounted to irritability and not what humans considered depression. In fact, one might have thought the man, now hidden under a pile of blankets on his bed might be dead! He didn't stir until the evening meal usually, had no Wing to report to nor a profession to work at, thus had no responsibilities beyond that of taking care of Weith. All of it equated to he got to be lazy until someone yelled at him about it.

The roar that bordered on bugle (or was it the other way around?) stirred him, but all he did was mumble and roll over. Weith didn't even twitch. The pair continued to sleep undisturbed, no pets to scream in their heads or chatter and chirp in their ears. Life was peaceful to them, let others bother themselves with the day, they would join the whers in the evening. The second call was answered by a roar in comparison. Weith had woken and was ready to Chase. The crack from Nikeath's tail echoed in the weyr with the bronze dragon's reply. R'men was sufficiently awake now.

The man rolled from his bed, discarding the blankets on it and quickly pulling clothes on before the whole situation hit him. His head snapped up and he looked at Weith in dismay. "Weith, didn't you just cha-" Silence![/i] The world flooded his mind and was followed by a wave of Flight lust. R'men fought it off; he knew what to expect this time! She is the largest of the greens, perhaps I can redeem myself and...he may not be there.[/i] The dragonrider knew whom Weith referred. No, chances were Kierjaarth would not follow the loud green.

R'men was displeased by being woken up, but either way, Weith was going to Chase. Throwing a coat on to stave off both the wet and cold, R'men began walking. Eventually he would know where to go, he didn't know why or how, but he would know, like he had with Jingth and Meira. Weith slipped off of his weyrledge and allowed himself to glide towards Nikeath, maintaining a respectful distance. No, he would not put his whole into this until she decided to begin.

[tarra]

You should reconsider, S'kor turned the straps over, the floor of his weyr rough beneath him as he began scrubbing down their opposite side in long, clean strokes, Because when I tell you why, you won't be happy.

Why ever not? Surely it is obvious, the bronze stretched out his wings as he spoke, eyes whirling in his gaze across the river and the 'falls, The Weyrleader's Wing forms the bulk of our Wings. We have enough riders to need squads, and we have the widest specializations amongst the Wings. And now we have the two from the Wasteland Weyr as well. Is it not right to say that we form a kind of sorting ground for S'rei to consider riders he is uncertain of placing elsewhere?

Yes, S'kor sighed. Images were flickering in his mind, views of the river and the opposite wall of weyrs: probably what Morreliath was seeing as he observed the general bustle of the Weyr outside. It was somewhat odd to receive them (Morry did not usually send random images to his rider), though he could see no reason for complaint. Thankfully though, Sky was not around just at that moment - he was off on one of his regular 'patrols' across the cliffs, telling everyone (and everything) he could find just what they were doing wrongly with whatever they were doing. A dull buzz ringing in his ears told him the 'mandyr was at it just then, but he was usually capable of tuning most of it out (or stepping in when he felt the buzz reached a certain level of pitch and intensity). He continued, But when you think about it, Mi'rah was also his Wingsecond for a while before he took up his own Wing. It's not right to say we'll be taken off Wingleadership permanently just because....

He paused. The images were getting stronger, gaining focus on a particular section of the weyrs. He aimed a questioning pulse of thought at his dragon, Morry?

I think... the bronze was standing now, tail flicking back and forth, cat-like, I should go.

He was gone before S'kor could say more, sunlight dancing over the burnished hide as he soared over the river towards the feeding grounds. He stood, scrambled open-mouthed to the weyrledge through a tangle of straps, and stared at the receding form going over the cliffs.

A snarl echoed up and down the canyon, magnified by the enclosing walls. And then the lust hit him.

He staggered and caught himself before he could go over the ledge, his dumbfounded mind struggling to make sense of it. Morreliath was...Chasing? But none of the golds were due to rise yet, which meant, which meant...

Nikeath, the word slid smooth into his mind even as he felt the bronze descend on a luckless herdbeast, huge talons crushing the life out of it on impact. The name jerked him upright, sweat beginning to break on his forehead despite the cold as he caught his breath. Chasing - Morreliath was going to chase a green, something he had never done before, not even with his old lover Tally and her Merinath! He recovered with the next pulse of desire, flooding his veins like fire, and barked a harsh laugh into the frigid air. So, his dragon was finally taking his advice!

Indeed, why not - if they are worthy of it? Standing over his bloodied kill, the great bronze raised his red-stained muzzle to the green dragon rising into the sky. She was large for her colour, a powerful fighter, an efficient killer; just as he was. She had been his clutchsister and in some sense a weyrlinghood arch-rival as well, a situation born of what had happened at their Hatching. He had taken care to ignore her for turns, despising her openly to spite her and the woman who had always seemed so capable of taking his rider's attention from him at a whim. But no longer! With a low questing whine he lowered his jaws to the kill and blooded it, cleanly and efficiently, before a massive leap took him to a second buck. Razor teeth tore the life out of the unfortunate herdbeast before he took its blood as well, excess spurts of crimson staining his lips and the base of his throat. A saddening waste, one might say - this was only a greenflight, wasn't it? But Morreliath differed on that point. Because when he had chosen to fly, he gave all.

With a cry he rose into the air with a surging leap, glossy wings flashing down as he drove after the green form now sweeping towards the beach. Violet-bright eyes appraised the massive female, appreciation for her formidable strength and natural prowess coursing through his blood as he slipped a light caress over her mind - a signal, as it were, of his intent and admiration . Yet there was something inherently taunting and teasingly playful about it as well: would she give as good as she promised? Could she give all even as she was being given all? She was the first green he had ever deemed worthy to chase, and would likely be the last - let her make this a flight to remember!

The caress of his mind was gone in the next moment as his wild trumpet answered her bugle, and he swerved to catch his own thermal over the beach for a leap in altitude towards her.

Unable to fly after them, S'kor whirled and ran back through his weyr, tripping over the harness straps and recovering just in time to stumble through the door. The near-fall brought him back to his senses enough to make him jog down the passages instead of tearing through them at a headlong run. He had every reason to hasten as well: Tiramnet's weyr was on the opposite canyon wall, and the bridge between them was far from where he was.

Which meant, of course, that he would have to swim. And to swim, he would first have to get to a lower level for a plunge into the chilling waters of the Selenitas River. It would be cold, wet and uncomfortable; but S'kor had just about grown up on the banks of this river, and now that Morreliath was about to make history he would not let something so small keep him from participating in this flight. Especially not this flight. His eyes misted, and he dashed a hand across them. After so long, it was finally happening...

He found the staircases and made the descent to the first floor at speed. An empty weyrledge presented itself, and without a second thought he ripped off the belt at his waist and kicked his shoes off as he dived. Fortunately for him the spot was far enough from the 'falls that the water turbulence was manageable. S'kor was a strong swimmer, and with firm, swift strokes he began the push for the other side.

[Ember]

"You try and chase more often now," Iskierka observed darkly, glancing at the blue. This one is interesting. She's a green that is larger than me. May I try? It is doubtful she'll pick me. "Whatever." The bluerider didn't move even as Ioth leapt off his weyrledge. There was the chance he'd be rejected the chance to chase by the green. There was still time to leave the weyrling barracks and head towards...the top of the canyon? Pah. Greenriders should know better than to run about the weyr with their beasts ready for some tail.

The blue looked at the other two males present and felt dwarfed in comparison. Normally green flights were full of blues and some browns. Never before had he seen two bronzes in the same green flight. Assuming she let him chase it would prove to be an interesting flight. He flew underneath Nikeath and asked, May I join the fair green's Flight? Yes, he was being charming. He was also less determined to win. Curious how he was oddly more confident when there was no personal connection to the green.

Iskierka finally got up, regardless of whether or not Nikeath accepted Ioth. Her paperwork was done and none of the weyrlings were likely to come to her if they saw Ioth involved in a flight. She started at an easy walking pace towards the bridge spanning the gorge. She was in no hurry. Ioth's lust was hardly affecting her at all. There was no unbearable desire for the green he wanted to chase. Merely a healthy interest. It was the easiest kind of flight to block out and she'd had lots of practice.

-----

Mother was the only one besides Nuoth that was actually awake in the weyr. His was napping. Charming was out somewhere, most likely with Ellie and/or R'wign. Diva and Sweetheart were asleep. The former had tired herself out from screeching at the latter. Sweetheart was but a hatchling and still tired quickly. The bronze was...bored. There was no littles to comfort, no awake His to keep in high spirits. No one but himself to entertain.

The lack of anything to do was probably why he was attracted by the green firelizard rising. The bronze was perched at the edge of the weyr and the weyerledge, watching the rain as it were. Mother was well behind schedule for his first flight experience but the bronze had never minded. His was more important than anything else. Not to mention her shoulder was quite comfortable. Still, as the bronze saw Tiny tumbling in the air he leapt into the cold rain and rose towards her. At first it was mere concern but as he got closer and she righted herself the lust began to take over. He brushed the green's mind warmly. He was there~

[Ruby]

You want Shells whozitwhat?

I said, no chance you'd chase a dragon, is there?

Shells snorted, turning around on Piden's shoulder so his tail end was closest to Piden's face. Firegold or failgreen?

Piden turned at the wall, pacing back across the room again. A green, but she's lovely, and very large. Almost a gold. Shells huffed out a string of general obscenities and Pidesk lifted his head, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "And what about you, lazy?" Piden growled, raising his voice so he could be heard over Shells' mental chatter. Pidesk tilted his head at his Handler, eyes gowing purple-blue in the darkness of the apartment. Pidesk had chased a Green dragon before, he reminded Piden, but it had been nearly night and so stormy that he could see outside. Even that had hurt his eyes. It may be raining now, but it was sure to be bright out. Too bright for Wher-eyes.

"Well, I can't just sit around here," Piden commented to no one in particular, eyeing the door. "I'm just going to drive myself nuts. What the shards is wrong with me, Desk? I don't care if she sleeps with someone else, I know she probably has already, but I'm still... just... argh!" Jealous? "No, not jealous, I just wish I had a chance. It's not knowing that she'll sleep with someone else that's the problem, it's that I don't even get a shot. I'm shut out." Pidesk nuzzled into Piden's ribcage as far as he could, then shoved his handler towards the door. Go for a long walk, far from the Weyr. She'd be done by the time he got back. "Fah! I hate my life."

Piden had been keeping an eye on Nikeath ever since Pidesk had mentioned that she looked especially shiny. The roar and whip-crack could have been any dragon, of course, but that was one of the benefits of sharding telepathic pets: they knew, so Piden knew. And it made him want to hit something.

He tried to leave Shells behind, but the Bronze stuck to his owner like an especially painful burr. Three and Red, Handler-owned all the way, were both asleep despite the noise. As soon as Piden cleared the door of the apartments (sheilding his eyes; daytime was bright), Shells sent a questioning thought his way. Which one you want me chase? Huge fatty or minipet? Piden quirked an eyebrow, eyes squinted as he looked up through the rain. Yes, there was another speck up there, infinitely smaller than Nikeath. "Tiny? She's going up too?"

What I ask, no? Stupid fluffface, sasshole.

"Tiny... would.. be..... good," Piden said, brain melting away as he spotted a familiar figure atop the canyon. "Tira," he whispered, even as Shells rolled his eyes, frilled once, and hopped off his handler's shoulder and heading for whatever ledge would get him closest to Tiny. Tira was still far away, and Piden kept his distance - Shells wasn't 100% committed to chasing something so stupid and not gold (Tiny didn't even TALK!), but Pidesk had promised him a special treat if he helped Piden out. He'd take a look. Touches of desire leaked over, of course, but only enough to make Piden wary. The last thing he wanted to do was intrude or make Tira mad. For the first time ever, Piden half wished he rode a dragon.

---

Big Brother de-tangled himself from his current contortion, eyeing the little green. He had no particular connection to Tiny, but he couldn't think of any schemes she might be planning (at the moment anyway), and that was major points in the blue's book. He took wing after just a moment of deliberation, offering a general explaination to Tenlie.

Somewhere, a Greenweyrling blushed.

[neeuqtar]

Nikeath was rapidly growing bored of waiting -- nevermind that she had been gliding for perhaps half of a minute when dragons started taking to the skies. A bronze, keeping his distance, maybe trying to show respect for her. Maybe trying to keep away from the dragon with the unpredictable temper. A touch on her mind, and Nikeath's head whipped around, to watch as a bloodied Morreliath took to the skies after her. She bared her teeth momentarily, half in antagonism, half in dark delight. So her rival and brother finally deigned to Chase a green, did he? Well, she was certainly worthy.

The green didn't even notice the blue dragon until he bespoke her. As a rule, Nikeath ignored blues in her Flights -- they were smaller than her in general, and also in general did not have the endurance to keep up with her Flights. But she was feeling frisky, and was pleased enough to have Morreliath there (if only to embarrass him) that she decided not to tear into the impudent little one. She flexed her foretalons as he passed underneath of her. Try your wings for me, blue, she purred to him, flaring her own wider and catching the wind.

With a final call to her males, Nikeath slipped back into the thermal, the heated air buoying her form up to the scudding clouds. Without a backward glance, she powered upwards, her gleaming form cutting a path through the clouds up into clearer air. The wind in the low clouds was cooler, and the clouds colder still. What fell as rain below was the smallest flakes of ice up here, and the frost sang against the green's hide with frozen kisses melting into cold water. If it wasn't for her internal heat, her muscles would have rapidly cooled and stiffened, but flying kept her warm.

With a moment's pause -- it was early still, after all -- Nikeath selected a crosswind. She canted to the side, catching the gust and shooting off sideways, before looping (in what might have been a flip for a smaller creature) and dropping into a dive, piercing through the clouds back into the haze of the rain. It was not a vertical dive, though she was capable of those. Rather, she took them down towards the jungle and canyon of the old Weyr, above the falls. Time to build some speed~

---

Tira paced as Nikeath waited, watching with sharp eyes for who came. She couldn't necessarily see much -- particularly as she was not wearing her glasses -- but she could sense where her Chasers were, through her dragon. Weith's, walking the cliffs. The blue's, crossing the gorge. Morreliath's... swimming? She licked her lips, waiting, waiting, even as Nikeath climbed to higher altitudes. Tiramnet had been through many Flights in the Turns since she had Bonded with Nikeath, and though greenflights were generally hard and fast, it took longer for the greenrider to fade out completely into lust. She could still think, vaguely.

At the back of Tiramnet's mind -- and Nikeath's -- was Tiny, a happy soul collecting her own males. But that cheer hardly affect Tira as she stopped pacing at the edge of the cliff, her muscles trembling with the desire to run, to be Chased. Soon they would be here -- soon -- Giving in to the desire, Tira turned from looking out into the canyon and started striding in the general direction of the bridge. Her strides soon turned to a slow, loping trot as she headed for Iskierka. She wouldn't go all the way there, of course, but the blue was little and brave to come, and the bronzes were strong and arrogant. Perhaps they needed to be taken down a notch.

---

A bronze was the first there, and Tiny trilled in greeting, keeping her distance from him for the moment, though she acknowledged his mental touch with a welcome of her own. Then a blue appeared, and Tiny greeted him, too, delighted. And! A salamandyr, one she recognized as owning the red-haired one Hers liked so well. She swooped towards the ledge, tempting him with her lithe form and aerial grace. Did he like her, too~?

Tiny hovered for a moment, but, seeing that no one else was soon to come, cried out to her trio and dove, sticking close to the canyon wall. Her long wings were held close to her body as she skimmed near to the stone. Flaring her wing out, the green shot out along a weyrledge into the open air, raindrops flying off her wings as she tucked into a barrel roll and shot sideways, dancing through the mists.

[Sheari]

Yes, she had begun! Weith saw that another bronze had entered his bid, Morreliath. The younger of the two was large for a bronze, so out of the three in the flight, he'd probably be the slowest. In spite of that, Weith followed the green up towards the clouds. She was large for a green, larger than a typical blue (a tiny brown in size?) so she'd be slower than average as well. Into the mist and could he went. She was up and as he had learned, staying low would preserve him from making embarrassing mistakes and would keep him from losing her in the formations.

Once above, her stayed low to the tops of the clouds as Nikeath lead them away from the gray world below and into the clear, blue and white one above. He watched with candor before executing similar moves, though on a more toned down scale. When the green looped and dove back under the clouds, Weith followed with a loop of his own. He flared his wings to their widest and pulled as tight a loop as draconically possible for a beast his size, before snapping them shut to follow down, gaining speed as he went. Towards the old Weyr she guided them, and Weith opened his wings to help pull him into more the angle Nikeath had adopted.

A subtle brush of the mind, a question perhaps? Weith was timid to ask, but he really wanted to know, were they going towards the jungle to play in the trees? In his mind he kept his thoughts to himself. With the wet that was on their hide the leaves would cling to them and they would hide the beautiful glow that encompassed Nikeath. Only the shear force of the wind they created around themselves would remove the offending leaves that were not there.

Out...outside? R'men allowed Weith's knowledge of where Nikeath's was to guide his feet and he certainly hadn't returned to the weyr. He shoved his hands into his pockets in dismay as he felt the wave of lust threaten to crash over him, right now his weak barriers were leaking. His vision occasionally changed, as though a warp in the world. Sometimes the path seemed to narrow and sometimes it widened, though gradually and hardly noticeable, vertigo. As he continued walking, R'men's fervor began anew from his dwindling steps on the ledges. Soon he found himself approaching a woman, glancing up from the ground through his dark, lank hair that had taken to falling in his eyes. He wiped away drops of condensations from his face to see better.

[Ruby]

Piden hung back, almost retreating into the apartments again. For a second it seemed like Tira was heading away, down the river and out of sight, but her path brought her around after a stride or two - she was heading for the bridge across the canyon, the bridge that connected to HIS wall. Torn between heading out into the jungle and heading for Tira after all, Piden instead plastered himself against the edge of the stone doorway that led down to the Handler's apartments. Now was not the time for decisions.

Shells, however, had made his. Pidesk's original offer had been vague, but when the salamandyr hesitated on the edge of the precipice (and muttered Hateface, fugly minithing, worth nothing this, mercifully under his breath), Pidesk sweetened the deal. He'd seen a firelizard nest out among the trees, he'd tell Shells where it was if he just did this one thing. The big, leggy Bronze's eyes flashed instantly purple and he threw himself over into the canyon, seeming to clutch the wall with only the very tips of his talons. His wings might be useless, but Shells had way too much leg, and he put it to good use, scurrying along the wall as if there were no such thing as gravity.

Her turn was too quick for him, though, so Shells was forced to run under the Weyrledge instead or be left hopelessly in the dust. once he cleared the obtrusive stone outcrop, he performed a daring directional change, releasing all but one of his clawed feet and using his momentum and woefully undersized wings to perform a neat 180, directing him back up the cliff face. Tiny was shooting out now, into open air, and Shells knew he'd be useless there; but he had a plan. It was towards the bridge he ran, keeping one eye on Tiny and the other on his path. Not too far, now!

---

Big Brother slid sideways off the ledge, barely having landed before Tiny was off. With a mind-bending twist, he re-directed, fluttering weirdly like a falling piece of hide might. He allowed this slow downward float to continue for a moment or two before planting his back feet solidly on the stone wall of the Weyr and shooting directly out above the river. With careful wing adjustments he swooped around, sliding in behind Tiny just as she hopped over the weyrledge. He stuck exactly to her pattern for a few wingbeats before canting off to one side, eschering through a complex series of knots and flips that would put any contortionist to shame.

---

It was Nikeath's call that woke Futh, who had been attempting to sun (yes, rain and all) on his weyrledge. When the Blue was determined to do something, he would do it no matter what. Weather be damned. That hadn't worked so well for the sky-blue dragon, who was now soaked to the bone. Luckily he had plenty of extra fat to keep him warm, even in this sort of weather.

Nikeath's retreating form was given a longing look, but that green was big, AND she had two bronzes after her. Even with all of his extra bulk, Futh didn't even start to compare. Not to mention Kyrahth, of course, whose influence still made Futh think twice about chasing. He'd really rather just chase her again. For now, he would just -

The Blue had fully intended to go back to sleep, but it was a good thing he didn't. Only seconds later, a tiny green form flashed past right where he was about to lay, followed by a blue. Quite the day for chases, apparently! Rearing up on his hindquarters in surprise, Futh made a split-second decision. Instead of settling back to his ledge, he pushed off, catching himself awkwardly on a thermal shooting up from the canyon floor. Wasting no time with pleasantries, he settled for a simple trumpeting roar, half challenge, half delight. Using all of his (admittedly limited) skill, he curved up in a diagonal twist, using the same thermal Nikeath had to make up some ground. He still trailed fairly distinctly, but it wasn't a lost cause quite yet.

Back in the jungle, M'kai started unwrapping his left hand, peeling off the protective strips of cloth he and A'emi used during chess-boxing. Shirtless and damp, with a nice, solid bruise blooming on his right shoulder, M'kai had one destination in mind: his weyr, with it's blessedly private en-suite bathroom. Every time he wondered why he'd taken on Weyrlings, he reminded himself of that room. It was about half the size of a closet, sure, but literally anything beat taking his clothes off in front of the assorted Weyr denizens. In his pre-private-bathroom days, he'd been mercilessly teased for bathing in a clout, or in the middle of the night.

Instead, of course, a now-familiar wave of lust hit him. Quashing the obviously flight-fueled desire to go back and and jump his oh so masculine chess-boxing partner, M'kai looked instead for it's source. With a sigh that was, perhaps, half-groan, he spotted her, striding away from him towards the bridge. At least it was a her. Forgetting whatever it was he was doing with his hands, M'kai veered off-course, blinking mist out of his eyes. Nikeath.

[tarra]

The warm winds over the beach buoyed him upward, and Morreliath took those seconds of ascension to consider his competition. Weith, a younger though larger bronze, and unfortunate victim of the wily Kierjaath at Jingth's maiden flight. Ioth, the sole blue in this oddly metallic-strong flight, looking tiny alongside the rest. One inexperienced, the other too small for note; unless another bronze or brown joined the flight (or his sister somehow decided to put the finishing touches to their long-held rivalry), he could see no competition worth his watching.

The flash of Nikeath's teeth turned his gaze. He raised his own wings as she called out to them, powerful downbeats driving his sturdy bronze frame upwards on the hilt of the rising thermals. She was moving in defiance of gravity, flaring though the clouds into the clean skies above, and he followed her line without haste or flurry as she made her way above the falling rain. It was still early, and Morreliath had flown enough goldflights to know that a steep upward climb this soon usually preceded a sudden fall. To rush now would be to crowd her by coming too close, and he had little wish to do so.

Sure enough it was not long before the massive green above him swerved to one side, describing a superbly executed loop the loop before dropping straight into a dive, cutting back through the thin clouds to mist into the hazing rain. The humbled appreciation that afflicted the bronze in goldflights flared in him at the sight. In those brief hours or minutes of passion his aloof arrogance would fall away, leaving only the glory of the flight and the magnificent beauty of what he was Chasing. Whether it might be as powerful in greenflights was questionable of course, but he felt it enough now that he crooned his appreciation, the fleeting touch of his mind echoing to Nikeath what his voice would never have through the distance between them.

Because he had taken his time in rising after Nikeath, he was now somewhat ahead of her as she fell back through the clouds towards them - albeit a good enough distance away that he would never have caught her as she dived. Not that he wanted to either; the big green had a nasty habit of resisting when forced into anything, and the last thing he wanted was to feel her talons marring his hide. Instead he timed himself to her drop, and as she entered the region of air twenty feet above him he leveled out his flight towards her direction, then folded his wings as he twisted himself into a mid-air roll. The roil of his muscles produced a full barrel-roll, his glossy hide shimmering from the blooding, before he lost enough speed for gravity to pull him into a descent as well, falling nearly side by side with her from the sky. And still a respectful distance away, of course, though nearer than he had been at any point thus far.

She was taking them back towards the jungle and the yawning canyon of the waters upstream from the waterfall, building up speed as they went. Morreliath extended his wingtips just enough to guide his direction, keeping his form streamlined to gather more speed even as small flicks of the wingtips angled him to stay behind Nikeath but a healthy way off Weith as well. Ioth he ignored - it was the blue's duty to stay out of his way, since any impact they might have would hurt the smaller dragon far more than he. A flash of sky blue against the clouds ahead caught the periphery of his vision, and his purple whirling eyes turned just long enough to identify Futh. Yet anther blue. Well. Turning his attention back to the glowing frame of the green, he held his wings ready for wherever else she might take them, whatever else she might do.

*******************

The waters were cold - freezing, in fact - and S'kor found himself shivering as he pulled up on the opposite bank by clambering up a crumble of rocks leading to an old abandoned weyr near the water's edge. He began to jog at once, shaking out his damped hair and the waterlogged clothes as he went, allowing the movements to force the cold from his body. The distant sensations of the flight were beginning to settle in as he found the corridors and loped along them seeking the stairs. He knew exactly where Tiramnet was along the cliffs, could sense the presence of his rivals in their scattered locations, and above all felt his lips begin to curl into a snarl. The same circumstances that made Morreliath a humbler beast had the opposite effect on his rider, turning the usually gentle and mild character into a vicious predator with only one goal in mind. The inexorable change came slower with a greenflight however, and with nothing more than a sharper glint to his eyes the man found the staircases and began to bound up them towards the cliffs, taking two steps at a time.

[Ember]

Ioth let out a purring croon when Nikeath granted him permission to stay. He had trained to be a quick, agile dragon but turns of experience had given him knowledge how to use the wind to his advantage and conserve his strength. Nikeath would not be impressed if he was forced out of her flight early because he was tired, now would she? As the green rose the blue danced in and out of a couple thermals. It wasted more energy than sticking to one but it was still less work than rising completely on his own power.

He slipped through the clouds, the colour of them matching well with his hide. Not that Nikeath was likely to see but it gave Ioth confidence. It was cold though so he emerged on the other side of them quickly. He had let Nikeath take a good lead in the chase. In fact, he was enjoying some almost leaisurely flying near Weith. Hello young bronzeling. When the green again dropped through the clouds the blue didn't bother catching up to her and then dropping. Instead he let himself fall through the clouds so that he might see where she was going.

Ah, towards the jungle? The blue altered his dive so that his course met close to where he expected hers to go, using his wings occasionally to give him a little more speed. He wondered if she intended to have them dance in the jungle. Such antics were better suited to the smaller greens, in the blue's opinion. He was eager to see how Nikeath would steer the chase from that moment on. At the very least it ought to be interesting and perhaps he could win her favour for himself.

Interesting. With Ioth's increased lust, Iskierka was quite aware of Tiramnet's location. She hadn't expected the greenrider to head in her direction though. What a bother. She increased her pace a little to make sure the greenrider didn't end up too close to the bridge. It wasn't concern for the greenrider that drove her to do so, but concern for herself. The bridges were not meant fr a bunch of flightlusted people and Iskierka would not be caught on it. When she got to the other side of the bridge she headed towards the stairs. Really. What was wrong with the flightrooms?

----

Mother was nothing if not pleasant to the other chasers as well. The others were greeted similarily as Tiny had been before he allowed their presences to fade in his mind. Perhaps they could talk another time but for now it was the green who was important. When she dove, the bronze dove as well. He didn't stick even half as close to the canyon wall as the green did but he did well enough for a bronze that spent over half his time on the shoulder of His.

As the green followed the path of a weyrledge into open air Mother actually landed on the edge of the ledge and gave himself a powerful push into open air. He broke into a simple spin for a moment before straightening out. He was not so graceful in the air as she or the blue but he would certainly try.

[neeuqtar]

He was clever, the young bronze, to stay below her. He did not display his strength, but mirrored her movements below her, skimming the roofs of the clouds. She appreciated his intelligence and caution, at the same time that the beast in her -- the beast which demanded all with the base cry of instinct -- scorned it. Morreliath, too, showed caution in his flying, not over-committing to a high climb early in the Flight. His roll was impressive, though if he thought she would miss the maneuver closer to her glorious self he was sadly mistaken. The blue danced behind her. She could see him out of the back of her vision, moving from thermal to thermal before dropping behind her young bronze. Nikeath was not yet impressed with any of them, but then, she had always been difficult to please.

The arrival of blue Futh startled the big green; she hadn't expected any more males to join the Chase once she started her first climb. Nikeath missed a wingbeat in her moment of thought, but recovered almost seamlessly, folding her wings and dipping into a vertical dive down into the canyon, pulling up into a cloverleaf flip to switch directions, shooting along the river in the opposite direction of what she had been previously flying. She glided for a moment, before using massive wingbeats to give her altitude over the dead air of the canyon, lifting her high enough to catch a tailwind and soaring out over the waterfall. The dragon passed over the bridge before flaring out her wings, turning speed into altitude once more.

The green dragon powered skyward, keeping a wary eye for any males who had maintained altitude and would hope to snatch her from the skies without earning her first. Indeed, Nikeath half-hoped one would try, just so she could set him straight. Straining against the cold misted skies, the green kept to her punishing climb, a move intended to winnow those without her strength and endurance. For the two blues in the Flight, this would be the challenge -- the bronzes would have their trouble soon enough!

---

R'men's sudden appearance startled Tira in much the same matter that Futh's had startled Nikeath. Though she was not moving very quickly, the woman veered to the side, leaving the beaten dirt track of the canyonside road for the soaking grasses at the jungle's edge. She floundered through the weeds for a few moments before jumping up an grabbing a branch, pulling herself up with her arms to get higher into the tree. With the ease of training, Tiramnet started running along the edge of the jungle through the trees, crouched and often leaping from one branch to another. Truly, she did not want them to follow her exactly -- more to see if they could figure out how to get to her. Silly males.

Something tugged the woman towards the other side of the canyon, though she could not for the life of her discern what. Her males were all here, were they not? Her brother's she could sense behind her, just below the canyon lip; the two blues came at her from right angles, one from the bridge, and the other from behind. The young bronze she had nearly touched in passing. A moment's hesitation before deciding, and she surged forward towards a fallen tree, leaves brown from the stress of frost and torn roots. The greenrider leapt from her branch, scrabbling for a purchase on the trunk before racing up it with sure feet. Fearlessly, Tiramnet launched herself into the air, soaring over the muck and weeds by the jungle to tuck and roll on the dirt road. She kicked her legs for purchase, skidding along the ground for a moment before getting up and starting running for real, a loping, ground-eating stride.

She ignored the bridge. Too restricting, and with the chance of falling into the water. It would foul her wings and be a terrible place to consummate a Flight. A tiny, wicked smile crossed her face. Somewhere along the way, she had lost Suzerain -- probably in the jungle. Her scalp bled sluggishly, but Tira didn't notice. Playfully, laughingly, she turned and frolicked, almost skipping, letting her males get close to her... then without warning, she lashed out at whoever was closest and broke free, dashing at full sprint up the narrow stairway towards the drumheights atop the waterfall cliffs. Tiramnet knew the steps; she'd been here many times. But oh, her males -- would they be quick enough to follow where she led after this climb?

---

They followed her, her pretty ones. Tiny was delighted to have them as she tested the open air. The small fire-lizard closed her wings and dropped down again, parallel to the cliff-face. They were close enough to the waterfall for spray to mix with the rain in the air, and the turbulence was just what she wanted. Tiny caught an updraft, shooting vertical before flipping over her wingtip into an inverted wingover, letting herself get sucked down into the mist before catching another updraft, powering higher, towards the cliffs again. Her narrow wings stroked rapidly, taking her up along the rock face. Then -- there! The powerful updraft from the fall itself sent her small form rocketing higher, an almost invisible speck against the mist.

Her destination was almost obvious: the bridge. It was a playground for firelizards, and she intended to play. Could her males follow her wending path in this most delightful game of tag~?

[Sheari]

Weith followed almost loyaly. He followed in her climb, put his wingbeats into a stedy, measured rhythm. When Nikeath dove, the bronze snapped his wings shut and pointed his nows groundward after her. He allowed gravity to pull him, and relaxed his body into dead weight. He pulled up a second behind the green, allowing hus bulk more room to meneuver. He opened his wings to their widest and tilted upward, pursuing in the cloverleaf as best he could.

Ah, she reversed her direction? Weith turned to follow, allowing himself room once again to meneuver behind the beautiful green. So lovely was she! The bronze turned his gaze away for a moment, confident that he'd be able to. Weith looked at his competition again, to Morreliath and Ioth. Futh had come late and was checked off in the bronzes mind as not being of competition. Rolling his eyes back to Nikeath he flapped his wings to gain altitude with the green.

The flightlust was less intense than with Jingth's flight, R'men was pleased with. However, his being stuck out in the rain chaffed him a bit. Then...she ran? The man thought is was bad enough that she had decided to go outside but...now they had to chase her? For the love of...! Half mindedly he cursed his dragon for his choice, but he had to admit that the woman was pretty. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, R'men began running, the long grasses lashing at his pants and the wet dampening his boots.

She was crazy! This woman was now climbing trees, leaping from branch to branch! R'men followed on the ground, jumping vines and low branches when they caught in his way. His breath puffed almost painfully, the cold air ripping into his lungs and his throat was drying despite the wetness of the air. His hair fell in his eyes and he brought up his arm to clear the water from them, roughly forcing his hair back with his hand. A stitch was beginning in his side and he allowed Weith into his mind more to allow him to have the endurance to keep up the pace.

At the baseof the steps, R'men abandoned his coat, leaving it to have less of a burden and to relieve his overheating. The steps were slick and slippery with rain and his boots were now thoroughly soaked, he coudl feel his socks chaff at his ankles in them. On all fours he followed, for the peace of mind. He was confident, yes, that he wouldn't fall, he just wanted the extra assurance.

[Ember]

Ioth folded his wings and followed Nikeath in a dive though he intended to keep a height advantage. Invariably greens rose into the sky for the final wing of the flight. When she switched directions he crooned as a compliment. Well executed! If the croon happened to draw attention to himself then he'd use it to try and impress her. He broke out of his dive, beating his wings powerfully to power him into a graceful loop. He twisted out of it so he ended upright. It wasn't easy to do so tight a maneouvre, even for him.

The blue had gone low enough that he needed to rise again, though it was considerably less of a distance than the green needed to rise. Ioth positioned himself so he could fly above and behind her, checking on his energy idly. Well, he was tiring but he'd be able to continue for a while yet provided he kept his wits and flew conservatively. When she started upwards again he sped up to make sure he'd be close to her. It was not his intention to force a catch. He'd never been the type for such things.

Instead the blue spiraled upward loosely around Nikeath. It used to much energy though so he dropped down a bit and let Nikeath lead him up into the skies. His wings ached but he ignored it. The whole upward thing was a pain but if and when she leveled off he would be able to catch a small break. Iskierka would be proud; the flight was a good way to push at his abilities.

The bluerider was anything but pleased though. She was stuck chasing after a greenrider through the jungle.... So not happening. The bluerider did keep up a moderately quick pace but she stayed out of the trees. Let the ones lost to the lust do silly things. The only times she went into the jungle was to hunt felines with Ioth. Otherwise she steered well clear of it. The jungle held no other appeal for her. When Tiramnet led them to a staircase Iskierka waited and allowed the other chasers to go first. She'd be there soon enough, unfortunately.

----

Down, up, down, up. It was somewhat dizzying...and worrying. The bronze was quite concerned that the green would get hurt or lose control in the weather. His worries seemed to be for naught as she played with the updrafts. He joined her antics, as much to follow her as because he was curious. He nearly collided once with another chaser having been too focused on Tiny. He brushed the other firelizard's mind apologetically as he rode an updraft for the final time.

Mother slipped out of the updraft a bit early, claiming the lower air. He angled upwards towards Tiny and kept her within his sight. What next? The updrafts had been fun!

[tarra]

If there was one thing in any Flight that could thrill Morreliath more than the anticipation of Catching his prize, it was the unexpected twists and turns she might bring them through as she looped and spun, rose and fell, weeding out the weakest of her prospects. Old scars, most long faded, marked where he had brushed walls or crashed into trees in his earliest Chases. Nikeath's abrupt vertical stoop thus gave him pause, his mind projecting quickly how she might correct her dive and how those around her might move in response. The big bronze fanned his wings further, stalling his fall to let the others move ahead whilst creating greater altitude and space for himself to maneuver. He was no light and small blue, and restricting canyon walls were a major concern when you knew the female in question was about to pull up from a steep dive.

Nikeath recovered herself just then, executing a cloverleaf that suddenly saw her moving at odds with her previous direction. Morreliath rumbled his appreciation of the move - well-done in such a space! - and immediately turned his dive vertical as well. Fortunately his stall had slowed him enough that he was still above the canyon and had the space to make a sharp twist as he fell, spinning towards the river below for a brief moment before his wings flared again to arrest his fall and pull up with a steep turn that saw him shooting level after Nikeath and the rest. A powerful flap, just one to balance out, and his wingtips threw twin sprays of water across the river surface as he regained some height on that heaving downbeat of his wingsails - so close to disaster had the mid-air twist brought him.

But disaster, of course, would never happen to him. Not with his exacting calculations. And if she was impressed with how he flew for her, all the better for him!

Nikeath began to climb again and Morreliath followed, his massive wings still glowing with the effect of the blooding as he pumped his wingsails in long, apparently effortless strokes, each beat easily large enough to cover more ground than his green sister's as he strove to catch up. They overflew the 'falls and the bridge, and he softened out his wingbeats as he cast about for the rest. Weith was still going strong. Ioth was, of course, ahead of them and twirling little circles around and about the green already, but the bronze paid him no heed - he would pay for his aerobatics in stamina soon enough. This steep climb, sans the aid of thermals, would require more than gymnastics: only the strong and enduring would come out of it without becoming fully breathless. He placed his wings in slow but careful beats, using the very few rising spheres of warm air from the canyon below whenever he could and making the most of each downflap to conserve as much energy as he might.

********************

S'kor reached the top of the canyon panting, having left a small trail of damp that grew smaller the further he came from where he had pulled himself out of the river. The run up the stairs, so soon after the strenuous swim through the freezing Selenitas, had taken its toll and he paused a moment to suck in deep breaths of the cold air as he sought out the rest. Tira, true to form, had eschewed the safety of the Flightrooms and was now somewhere outside - in the forest, to be precise, and from the sense of things she seemed to be heading for the Drumtower. He took off at a sprint that slowed to a jog as he met the grasses of the jungle edge, mindful of his footing on the wet vegetation even as he ran, head low and questing as his eyes and nose and ears worked as one to steer him towards her.

He found her running light-footed through the trees, using each interconnecting branch to loop to the next. Below and behind her ran the other chasers, more than one seemingly incredulous that they were being made to race across country instead of bunking into the safety of a Flightroom. The mild haze of his hazel eyes had dissipated by now, leaving only the sharp, harsh glare of the predator on the prowl. Flights usually affected him badly enough that he lost all rational thought, and he hardly even wondered now why he was being made to do this. There was only dispassionate disgust reflected on his features now as he regarded his competitors, Why, was a little running too harsh for them?

Picking up speed between the trees, he leapt from foot to foot to weave through them, head angled to keep track of the woman flitting through the boughs above. Tira jumped and scampered up a fallen tree, then launched herself to land rolling before regaining her feet in a flat-out run. S'kor grinned, showing his teeth - what a run and what a girl she was! Setting himself to the race with renewed vigour, he dove past two trees and whirled around a third to try and cut some distance towards her.

She skipped ahead of them teasingly, but even as they closed she struck out abruptly and then dashed off again. The bronzerider twisted, hardly felt the glancing blow she left across her ribs, but his breaths came slightly short as he recovered in mid-stumble and bolted after her again. Perhaps he'd feel the bruise tomorrow, though it hardly touched his wild raw senses at this point.

A long stairwell loomed before him - yet more stairs! - and he went up without thinking twice. He was fit enough from the constant drills and training that had hardened him into a seasoned rider over the turns, but his breaths were coming fast and short, his lungs burning. Few of the other chasers had had as punishing a run as he, but he was not willing to relinquish his place just yet. He had swam the Selenitas River, surely these stairs were not half as bad as that. Head lowered and shoulders sloped forward, he paced with his eyes burning up the steps on Tira's heels.

[Ruby]

Futh dropped as low as he could in the canyon, skimming the river's slipstream in an attempt to make up lost ground. He shouldn't have bothered! In a mind-boggling manuver, Nikeath was passing above him, soaring over the bridge he'd just passed under. Too tight in here for a wingtip turn (not that Futh had that kind of agility anyway), and a straightforward loop would waste too much energy, especially in a flight that was guaranteed to be long and difficult. He had to make some sort of decision, though - Nikeath was already exiting the canyon at the other end!

Rising about three quarters of the way up the canyon, Futh suddenly moved in as tight as he could to the west wall. With a deliberate flap of just one wing, the Blue slingshoted himself up and over, tucking his wings in tight and using his momentum to clear the light jungle above. Once he was sure he had enough room to open his wings again, he did, snapping them out perpendicular to the jungle canopy and executing a daring 180 less than a length above the ground. Behind, still, but at least he was going the right direction, now, with momentum to spare. Staying clear of the canyon's useless currents, he caught what thermals he could, chasing Nikeath up into the sky with the least effort possible. He was still expending far more energy than he wanted to, but he figured if he didn't give here, he might as well just drop out. If that was what she wanted, Nikeath could tell him herself; if not, he'd fly until his wings fell off.

Literally.

M'kai, on the other hand, had caught up quickly and held his position in the slowly increasing pack of chasers. He loved to run, and with legs like his, it was something he did extraordinarily well. The world seemed to slow for a second as he found his stride, feet pounding on the slick grass in time with his heartbeat.

Then, without warning, the world sped up again, and Tira was in the trees. M'kai used trunks, roots, and fallen logs to stay above the choking jungle undergrowth, easily keeping pace with the other dragons in the forest. It was only Morreliath between him and her now, and not for long - oh wait. They'd come out of the trees without M'kai even noticing, and the staircase was so slick and wet the Blue didn't want to pass anyone until they were on less dangerous ground. Relegated to the dubious position just in front of Ioth, who had actually allowed him to go first, M'kai took his time, not wanting to risk anyone's life. Nikeath was worth plenty, but no mating flight was worth death.

---

Clever trick! Big Brother imitated Tiny's waterfall plunge, his drab hide flashing with a shine it had never had before. If only the sun was out; he knew if he twisted around just right, he could scatter rainbows with this sort of mositure on his hide. Something to remember for future flights. A near collision with the other firelizard chaser was avoided, and Big Brother looped Mother once or twice, trilling his own apology. No collision, no problem!

Tiny's destination was obvious, and Big Brother swooped sideways, looping one of the bridge's rope railings, only to be forcibly displaced by a red (??) salamandyr. How did it get to be that color? No matter; the Blue ignored the superficial scratches, barely leaking ichor, in favor of Tiny. He'd keep up!

---

Shells, having gained the bridge, stuck tight to the railing closest to Tiny. He had a plan, all he needed was for one of those ugly lizards to get close enough, then he'd use them to launch himself at Tiny and force this whole thing to be over! Really, he wasn't convinced he should even stay. Firelizard eggs were good, but he could find the nest on his own, he was certain. So: plan in motion, as soon as they were close enough...

Suddenly, the little blue had not only passed the point where Red could use him as a springboard, but he'd also gotten so close to Shells that he blocked any chance the Salamandyr had of leaping on the other bronze! Swiping out with a fisful of dangerous claws, Shells shoved the Blue away, growling. One more stunt like that and he was out.