Twilit Princess (Ebolath’s Maiden Flight)

[Rei]

Raylin ran the brush through her slightly damp hair mechanically, taking a sideways glance every once in a while at the cause of her nervous tension. Ebolath. The green looked stunning, for lack of a better word. Her glowing hide gleamed in perfect health but her restless sleep spoke volumes. The green rider had been waiting for days for her green to rise. Anyone with eyes could see it would be soon. Although her temperament hadn’t changed much, Ebolath’s eating habits had. Yesterday she had killed but not eaten at all. A definite oddity since Ebolath always ate, and ate heavy. Sighing Raylin set the brush down and turned to look at the twitching dragon. Magnificent in her pre flight glow there was no hope of ignoring her to concentrate on anything else.

Ebolath was sprawled out on her couch, tail tip twitching back and forth like a feline. Every once and awhile a slight tremor ran along the green’s length. Her bronze weyrmate, Corinth, was for once absent. That in itself was nerve-wracking. Raylin would have preferred it if T’rid had been in their weyr. At least then she could ignore her green’s imminent rise for awhile longer. Alas, it was only her and Ebolath. Turning to pick up the brush again Raylin froze. The intense feeling of lust and warmth coming from her mind link with Ebolath was enough to make her double over. Not yet. Oh please. She wasn’t ready yet. Truth be told she would never be truly ready, but why now? It was evening. Dragons rose during the day. Didn’t they?

Ebolath however was through with waiting. Opening whirling purple eyes the green rose form her curled position and stretched her entire body slowly making sure everything was in proper working order. Tonight she would fly. Fly far and fast. Perhaps she would never come back down. Turning her head she gave a loving croon to her bonded. Relax Rayminelove. Tonight it is all about us. Tonight we fly. Striding to the weyrledge Ebolath paused for a moment to eye the descending Rukbat. The evening belonged to her. Her and her chasers. Giving a ringing cry of challenge Ebolath sprang from her ledge and opened her wings to the chill night air. Rising quickly, she hovered just above the lip of the canyon to wait. Which males was she worthy of? The green was not vain enough to presume that she would merit much attention. After all she was nowhere near as impressive as most. She was merely Ebolath. She was not some stunning gold, nor was she the beautiful Calistoth. No she was just another green.

Raylin closed her eyes against the feeling of wing beneath her wings, the light of the sunset, and the burning in her veins. What wings? She didn’t have wings…did she? That was her last thought before her mind was claimed by Ebolath. Arrogance shifted on the dresser and gave a annoyed warble before turning his head towards the doorway and hissing once low and menacing. The blue understood enough to know what was going on but it still didn’t stop him from disliking it. With an irritated cry he disappeared between. Why was she sitting? She should be flying. Raylin/Ebolath moved to the center of her weyr, the hem of her purple nightdress swishing about her legs. Stopping she twirled once and examined the room. Where oh where were her chasers? Her lovely males would find her, wouldn’t they?

[Avu]

Space.

It was polite to give her space, and Corinth had done exactly that. He didn’t want to crowd Ebolath, not with her Flight so obviously imminent, and he’d left the weyr very early in the day while the green still slept, waking T’rid at the same time to tell him that he was leaving – and taking Stupid with him, who went with ill grace, given the obscenely early time and the fact that he knew that once he was there, there would be no coming back for Ebolath’s Flight. The bronzerider had had the presence of mind not to wake up Raylin at the time (his complaints about being woken were all addressed at the level of a sleepy mumble) and had promptly gone back to sleep. Not that he’d stayed long; though the bronzerider didn’t want to go to the beach because of the simple fact that if Ebolath Rose while he was there, he’d have a long way to run back and Corinth simply could not be depended upon to give him a ride in such a state of mind, so he’d spent most of the day loitering around the Main Hall and the River with Conspiracy for company; the brown firelizard ranked among the best company ever (never once did he disagree, and he always seemed to think T’rid was absolutely marvelous, which the bronzerider had no complaints with), in his mind.

But it was nearly sunset, and while Corinth could probably sleep on the beach with no problems – indeed, that was exactly what the bronze intended to do – T’rid couldn’t sleep next to the River, and he’d just started the return trip to the weyr when Corinth contacted him, speaking so softly that at first T’rid thought he’d just imagined the words in his mind. But they were definitely there, laced with eagerness, anticipation, the beginnings of lust:

Do you hear…?

And he did hear: The green’s ringing challenge was audible against the night hum, and T’rid froze for an instant before he clicked his tongue thoughtfully. How long did he have before it was overwhelming…? Maybe ten minutes. He wouldn’t care, but – Conspiracy. He had to get Conspiracy – not back to their weyr, but somewhere safe. Main Hall would do; Conspiracy knew how to stay out of trouble, and the Drudges didn’t seem to mind firelizards as long as they were polite, and Conspiracy was nothing if not polite. T’rid closed his eyes momentarily, reaching for Corinth’s mind even as the bronze rose in one sinuous motion from the beach, gleaming wings flaring out, and bent…

T’rid broke into a loping run, but fortunately, he wasn’t far from the Main Hall to begin with; Conspiracy chattered excitedly after him as he set the brown carefully on a table, mentally apologizing fervently for the inconvenience – not that Conspiracy thought it as an inconvenience – before he backtracked out of the place and tilted his head upwards, seeking out the glowing green that must be Ebolath. Corinth wouldn’t have reacted if it wasn’t the green, and there were no others due to Rise anyway. And – he’d recognize Ebolath anywhere, and it was her. He wet his lips nervously; Corinth was confident, was the bronze – not arrogant, but confident that he would, at least, be considered. Females were not entirely given to logic in Flights, it was true, but…he trusted that she’d know. She would know. T’rid was not quite as confident, but it wouldn’t do to let Corinth know that; he hid his own emotions by letting Corinth’s wash over him momentarily, and for one disorienting moment, he was skimming over the beach sand, wings sending up a spray of pale sand, his eyes fixed on Ebolath. His green, she was. His no matter who Caught her.

Don’t mess this up for me, the bronze said, still speaking so softly that T’rid almost didn’t notice the voice in his mind. Five minutes, Mine. I will give you five minutes to get to the weyr, and then I /won’t/ hold back.

Even as he spoke, Corinth was flapping his wings harder, rhythmically, propelling himself upwards towards Ebolath; his eyes were a mixture of purple and green, almost evenly. There was lust, but he actually liked Ebolath, too. His head bowed slightly to her as he slid beneath her, and then flipped to glide on his back to look up at her, crooning softly. Was he honestly the first…? First or not, though, he kept his distance from her. Rude, it was, to crowd her; he hadn’t crowded her previously and Corinth wouldn’t start now, especially not in the midst of her Flight. Neither did he bespeak her; for the moment, he would keep his silence (mentally, in any case). Part of his mind was focused on His, keeping track of where he was in the weyr – and as soon as the bronzerider slid into the weyr, Corinth’s gaze changed hue; the green receded slightly, though it was still very visible, and the temporary dam he’d put into place between himself and His was removed. Usually, he didn’t – but this time, it mattered to him that His was there.

As soon as the door clicked behind him, T’rid felt it. The unmistakable, undeniable lust that rose; he swallowed down on it (more for Raylin’s sake than his own; wasn’t like he hadn’t made a proper fool of himself before) – but she seemed well and truly immersed in Flightlust; T’rid tilted his head to one side curiously, watching her intently, before he bowed his head in greeting, a mimic of Corinth’s first gesture, if belated – his fingers hooked into his belt, and he shuffled sideways so that he wouldn’t block the door – a motion that was distinctly Corinth’s, because that small movement would never have been performed by T’rid. It was for the sake of others, rivals at that. The possessiveness, however, wasn’t Corinth’s. His green. If anyone thought he was sharing, they were much mistaken.

[Rei]

Ebolath saw Corinth long before he reached her and she ducked her head as he bowed to her. Her bronze had decided to chase after all. It made her very happy. He was fond of her, it was no secret that he was, but somehow Ebolath had been under the impression that she may not have been worthy of him. Giving a flick of her tail the dragon turned to examine the canyon below. No other male seemed to desire to heed her call. In truth the green had not expected them to. She was merely not worthy of them, and so she gave a mental shrug and turned her attention to her one and only chaser. Her bronze Corinth. So be it. However Ebolath was not going to make it easy on him. Oh no, if he wanted her he would have to catch her. Giving a cry of challenge to her bronze she folded her wings and dropped towards the river. Catch me if you can. She teased lightly before putting a bit of spin on her dive. It was a flight after all. He would have to catch her to win her.

As Ebolath neared the river she flung her wings wide to stop her descent and smacked the surface of the water with her tail. The impact sent up a glittering spray that caught the dieing light and threw it back along the green’s body, highlighting it for a moment. She reveled in her new found feelings. The green wanted the bronze to catch her, but she wanted him to admire her as well. Never before had she felt worthy of admiration but all the same tonight she wanted it. Ebolath didn’t stay in place very long. If she did Corinth would have an easier time catching her, she didn’t want that. The green wanted to play a bit first. She wanted to make a game of it. Quickly she darted towards the bank before darting back again towards the waterfall. Ebolath turned her head slightly to check Corinth’s location before pumping her wings harder. Speed and agility was what she had over him. The game would be won by his stamina but before then she intended to give him a good game of cat and mouse. Oh yes the chase was half the fun after all.

Raylin raised her head as T’rid entered and crooned softly to him. Her bronze had decided to chase? How nice of him. Slowly she examined the rest of the room before turning back to T’rid. Corinth was her only chaser? Neither anger or sorrow crossed her face, merely acceptance. He was the one she would have probably chosen anyway. If the others sought not to try, far be it form her to expect them to. Slowly she approached the bronze rider, her eyes examining him. So strong was her bronze and handsome to. However she would not be easily won. Oh no, what fun was the game if she wasn’t allowed to play? Sliding around him, Raylin trailed a hand from his shoulder down his back letting her touch linger for a moment before she darted away and opened the door. “Catch me if you can.” She mimicked softly before slipping out of the weyr and trotting out into the hallway. The green rider paused for a moment until she was sure her chaser was following. With a teasing look she slipped around the corner and began to make her way down the stairs. Let the game begin.

[Avu]

Anger. Irrational, but it was there; undeniable anger that flickered in Corinth’s gaze. Not anger at Ebolath – never! – but anger at the other males; what was wrong with them…? She was so lovely, so stunning…and they didn’t Chase. Why didn’t they Chase? Admittedly, she was weyrmated – but still. Much as he hated to think it, greens could be…unpredictable, especially in Flight. Things could happen. And it was an insult that only one had chosen to show up, simple as that. His tail flicked, sweeping through the air, and Corinth’s gaze dropped to sweep the Weyr below, the somnolent dragon forms on their ‘ledges, blue and brown and bronze. None of them. None of them. The bronze dragon turned on a wingtip below Ebolath; his rumble was loud, resounding, challenging. Didn’t they want to see if they could win? So many males didn’t, ever; didn’t they want to see…? Corinth didn’t want competition, usually, but then, he’d never been quite as fond of any female he’d Chased as he was Ebolath; she deserved more and she wasn’t getting more, and it was an insult. Not that she seemed to care (which bothered him a little, too; didn’t she know she deserved it?) – but he did.

It was still there, the anger, as Ebolath dived, though the bronze wasted not a minute in following, though he chose not to truly dive but to fall, closing both wings against his body in a freefall; wind whipped at him before, as he saw Ebolath’s tail smack against the water, he opened both wings, flaring them wide on either side of him and rolling to dip both wingtips, one at a time, into the water below; as he righted himself, water flicked outwards as the bronze crooned softly; the irritation with the other males had faded from his gaze, replaced by a view that was not entirely his but T’rid’s: Fine. If they didn’t want to Chase, it was their loss, not his. Not his loss; served them right, it did. They didn’t see what they were missing, or they simply didn’t care, but – they would care, when months and Turns went by and they didn’t get any tail. They would care. He turned to follow Ebolath, but as she headed towards the waterfall, he veered upwards. The waterfall was an often-used obstacle in greenflights, since the smaller greens could easily avoid it; queenflights never seemed to linger too near the ground. In any case, altitude was an advantage, and it was upwards that the bronze soared, following the green – just above and to one side, instead of directly behind.

“I do not desire to catch you, Ebolath,” and the words were soft, almost gentle, even in their correction. “It is to dance with you that I seek…a dance that you lead will lead.”

Very rarely did Corinth speak in flight – and therefore it was very rare that T’rid did – but they did, as one, the bronze dragon’s inflection in the words. Their voices were more or less the same, but the inflection was wildly different; T’rid’s usual sarcastic drawl could not have contrasted more sharply with Corinth’s soft, almost melodious crooning tone, and now it was Corinth’s tone that emerged from the Rider’s mouth, the sound gentle, calm: Strange, coming from T’rid.

Corinth’s anger had flickered very clearly across T’rid’s features, though it was exactly that – a flicker, before he reasserted himself, still more or less aware of himself and his surroundings, if only to a very small degree. It was an insult, but he (unlike Corinth, who had a sense of morality and fairness) had nothing against it; quite honestly he didn’t want to share Ebolath – er, Raylin – at all and this just made it that much simpler not to. His green. The feeling that it was an unforgivable insult would probably fade over time for Corinth; no doubt it was due to the rush of emotions common to Flightlust that the bronze was so irrationally upset, since it took much to disturb Corinth normally. Raylin’s moving towards the door, however, made the bronzerider turn his head to follow her progress, unblinkingly for a moment, before he moved softly after her. Each step was fluid, graceful; not predatory in the least, but not sulking or dark, either – simply graceful, each motion covering a considerable amount of ground. It was almost gliding, the movement; had he not had Corinth’s help, T’rid would not have been able to do such a thing without feeling downright stupid.

At least now he wouldn’t trip down the stairs and break his arm, right…?

[Rei]

Ebolath stalled her wings at Corinth’s words and swiveled her head around to look at her bronze. The words spoken, so sweet and kind they were, brought a swelling feeling into her breast and her purple eyes shot with momentary green swirls. Of course he wouldn’t want to catch her. It was a partnership that he wanted. A dance that they would have together. With a melodious croon the young green shot upwards towards her beautiful bronze. Working her wings hard and fast, Ebolath zipped above him only to turn in a slow spin around the larger male. Yes Corinth. Let us dance. She pressed those words into his mind in a soft acceptance even as she dipped her wings to dive into a cloud set afire by the setting Rukbat.

In this way Ebolath dove and wound through the clouds with her bronze, her only chaser. In her mind he had become the only one worthy of her attention. The presence of the other males lounging below was forgotten and, at the moment, they did not weigh in her mind. There was only Corinth. As she wound through the clouds delighting in her new found strength the green occasionally passed close to the bronze, brushing him intentionally with a wing tip or tail tip. The touch meant not to tease, but to caress.

Raylin stopped at T’rid’s words, stalling almost as if she had hit a brick wall. Neither indecision or anger flashed across her face, merely a soft realization and acceptance of his words. Of course her bronze would not have to catch her. For he had already done so. A long time ago. Giving a loving croon, the green rider turned and slowly made her way back up the stairs, for that was where Ebolath was also headed. Up, up to her wonderful bronze chaser. The single male worthy of her attention. As she made her way back towards T’rid/Corinth, Raylin locked eyes with him and stepped around him in a graceful pirouette. Ebolath’s words where repeated to T’rid in the same soft loving tone even as she stepped away to dance back the way she had come, bidding him to follow.

Occasionally Raylin drifted back to run a hand down the length of T’rid’s arm or brush slightly up against him, a perfect mimicry of Ebolath’s own dance with Corinth among the clouds. Her own touches where just as feather light and caressing as her dragon counterpart. Finally drawing away, the green rider circled back towards the open doorway of their weyr. There, she waited for her bronze. For all to soon, their dance would have to end. Already she could feel the slight burning in her wing muscles that signaled an end to their dance in the waning evening light.

As Rukbat remained a mere sliver of orange on the horizon Ebolath suddenly turned to drift gently into Corinth. Lovingly she crooned as she twined both neck and tail tightly around her bronze. Now it is your turn to lead my dear Corinth. She said in a soft caressing purr, tightening her grip on her bronze. For that was what he was. Her bronze, for now and forever. Her mate, her Corinth.

As Ebolath joined with Corinth so did Raylin with T’rid, pulling him close and tightening her grip around his neck. Pulling his head down towards hers, she whispered softly. “Now it is your turn to lead my love.” The whisper was only a mere inkling of her thoughts as she tightened her hold on her friend, her lover, her weyrmate. Raylin would never want another, for he had claimed her heart and she would have it no other way.

[Avu]

And dance they would.

Corinth crooned once, and then turned on a wingtip to follow Ebolath’s dive downwards, though one wing flared open to spiral around the green before he pulled out of the dive to fly over one of the clouds that Ebolath had gone under; her motions were mimicked as closely as Corinth could manage – for all of his size and build, he still was a bronze and incapable of the more intricate maneuvers, but he tried and for the most part, succeeded, even if he never achieved the level of grace that Ebolath did – but his motions were mostly the opposite of hers. If the green rose through a cloud, he dove downwards before coming back up again. It had become less of a Flight, Chaser and Green, and more of what he had requested and she had promised: A dance. Long, slender bronze wings skidded across the cloud surfaces, sending the cool droplets whisking across hide; Corinth was always metallic, but when he was wet, and with the colors of sunset reflecting on his hide, he looked to be positively glowing.

Every touch was acknowledged with the faintest of croons, though nothing more: The bronze didn’t reach out to touch Ebolath because that was the same courtesy that he would have offered every other green, any queen, even. Just because he was familiar with her, just because she probably would not have protested the touch – did not mean he intended to. Such would be imposing upon their friendship – and he wouldn’t. If she wished to touch him, that was the right of the Rising female – a right that her Chasers did not share. He would, soon (though he recognized the inevitability with a slight wistfulness because, had there been other Chasers, it would not have been inevitable) – but until then, he would not be the one who reached out to touch.

Her pause, the expression on her face, her words – drew no reply but for the softest croon, almost childishly breathy and airy, and the landbound half of the pair raised one hand slowly, fingers curling around the locks of hair that dangled in front of his eyes to push them back, though his gaze never wavered from the green before him. As she pirouetted around him, the bronze ducked his head to look behind him for a moment before he turned in an undeniably graceful motion that almost mimicked the pirouette, though not quite. He followed her as she moved upwards; though his motions would have looked, to any passing by, simply to be graceful, though not inhuman, it was clear that every movement, every glance, was a mimic of Corinth’s – it was simply his good luck that the bronze did not seek to do any flips or mid-air pirouettes, for he, T’rid, would have not only looked incredibly comical but was also likely to slip and fall – and on a stone staircase, there are not many places that are comfortable enough to fall upon without inflicting a few bruises.

And then –

The sun’s fading light silhouetted the two dragons, even as Corinth backwinged; Ebolath’s turn, and then her neck and tail wrapping around his, made it clear the dance had ended, and it was very gently that Corinth curved his neck around hers, head rubbing once along the length of the green’s neck in clear affection, his tail winding around hers and – because he was big enough to, if only barely, he slowed their fall drastically from the typical free-fall to more of a gentle descent. It was her first time, it was, and he wanted it to be good – something that she wouldn’t shy away from because she was his green. That possessiveness was not all T’rid’s; for the moment, she was his.

All his. T’rid allowed Raylin to pull him down, pressing his forehead against hers for the moment, arms slipping around the greenrider’s waist. The words were noted with no small amount of delight, but the bronzerider didn’t answer. Not vocally, anyway; he tipped his head sideways and kissed her. Very, very gentle, the touch was; lusty he may be, but Corinth still had a good hold over his mind and it wasn’t just senseless; he liked the green – and he was, for a reason unknown to him at the moment (greens didn’t have hatchlings, after all, did they?) he was also very concerned about her well-being: He would be gentle.

“I will /never/ forget this dance…”