Golden storm (millieth's flight)

[Requiem]

He was not amused. Idith was left alone. Technically, the hatchling ranked alongside him, at least for now, but Kierjaarth was his, and in that sense Salenth was at least in part responsible for his unforgivable lateness. The male expressed this displeasure by cutting Kierjaarth off, his tail passing almost within biting distance of the other bronze. His growl may well be lost to the storm, but that hardly mattered. The sentiment should be clear enough.

Too bad his second had won Millieth's dismissal so early, though. Salenth touched his mind briefly. No, he didn't want Dsoleth to steal Millieth from him, obviously, but the brown had still responded as most of the bronzes hadn't. It was a good representation of Salenth's wing, and for that he was grateful. Not that he wasted more than a brief moment on that.

The bronze sliced high, higher into the buffeting winds, feeling them tugging at him as if they wished to tear him apart and bugling his challenge to them. Let them try! He rolled with the gusts, slipping in and out of the streams, playing them and the clouds as the lightning grew more vicious. He coiled tightly, finding the stream he most desired and tacking into it, his wings folding flat to his sides. Even a dragon so great as the bronze was like little more than a leaf tossed on a mischievous breeze in the winds over the seas, from gust to gust and current to current, but he simply skipped himself in and out of them, finding ones that took him the direction he wanted. Playing around Millieth and not fighting the wind.

Behruth was struggling. He'd descended to the trail she followed, as a respite from the buffeting winds, but the beaches and the ocean...these were open. Even low the wind tugged at him, pulling. He didn't fight it much, but he had to fight it a little, because it was trying to take him away from Millieth. The brown was becoming worried, actually, as the waves were quite large and to be knocked down by one would not at all be good, but the winds above were even more dangerous. His membranes threatened to tear at the higher elevations.

Yet giving up and going back wasn't an option. He wouldn't do that to Millieth, and anyway, the winds were all pulling this direction and he wasn't even sure he could fight them enough to get back to the Weyr. There was no other choice then, and he made that decision bravely, clutching his precious branch tight to his chest. He could do this. He could. He would have to, because failure could mean more than just disappointment in this dangerous weather.

His rider's faith shored him up, and he plunged low between the waves where the winds weren't as terrible, skimming along the darkened seas that wished to snatch him out of the skies themselves. Behruth rolled, bucked, tacked into the less tumultuous breezes stirring the water's surface. He flew as fast as he could, the wave curling above, over, imprisoning him in an ever contracting tunnel. And then he was threw, spraying water droplets on the tips of his wings and twirling upwards into an updraft that shot him up and tossed him about. Couldn't keep his wings open here. He rolled, flicking his tail, extending his legs, the wind tossing him carelessly.

Slipped out of the worst of the wind and used his wings to find relative safety near Millieth for a moment before the higher altitudes drove him back down toward the waves and the other, equally powerful enemy.

---

He was trembling, a flicker of apprehension and fear in his eyes. M'ta managed a shy smile for Kaegan, concentrating on her as much as he could, her and Millieth and the waves. His hands had curled into tight fists, and he'd faded back against the wall, for support. He shielded the worry from Behruth in its entirety. This he knew because Behruth thought he had no doubts. But he did. Only the doubts wouldn't help the brown, not now, and he desperately wished he didn't lose himself, that he could have had enough power over his dragon to keep him from Chasing in this weather. And part of him was upset with Millieth. Behruth was her son. He didn't know not to chase, but she had to know that he shouldn't have been. Why hadn't she dismissed him? Better disappointment than...but now, Behruth was managing fine. As long as he didn't get tired.

But what would they do when the Flight ended? The wind and waves would still be there. M'ta's trembling wouldn't stop.

The bronzerider watched the beautiful woman in silence, patient as he'd always been, the desire undiminished. He watched her dismiss the brown...and couldn't say he was entirely pleased that she allowed the bronze in. He was late. Why should he be given a chance? But the competition itself was welcome, and of course Millieth was perfect. She must just see the reason that escaped his grasp. That was all. He straightened his shoulders and spared a brief glance around at the other contenders. Mmm. Millieth was definitely the more interesting sight. His gaze returned to her.

[mierce]

Iorath remained relatively low even as the Queen entered the clouds. He tried to follow her yes, but he knew determination meant nothing in the face of nature’s raging. So, he flew as high as he dared, where he could still maintain a relatively straight and somewhat graceful path despite the winds trying to throw him about. He was getting tired though but the coast was coming up. If only he could—

Millieth appeared then, seemingly dropping down to where her chasers flew. A moment of puzzlement flashed through Iorath’s eyes, but the Gold’s actions were soon clear as she briskly cut him off. He flew a bit more, not sure how to take being dismissed rather than being forced to give up. After a bit of deliberation, he decided that at least she Queen had acknowledged him and that it was, in fact, essentially helping him save face in light of the foolish adventure. Pleased with the outcome, he lowered himself to the river where the winds were not as strong and carefully perched on one of the large boulders protruding from the rough waters. The rain was turning into something or a torrential downpour and a part of him realized that even if he hadn’t been dismissed, he would have had to give up rather soon afterward anyway.

The remaining dragons continued in their pursuit, but not without a warning from the brilliant Gold. Iorath watched for a few minutes as he caught his breath, then rumbled towards the darkened skies and began the flight back towards the Weyr. He was in high spirits, doing a few tired tumbles along the way until he landed heavily on the ledge, thick rivers of water cascading over his hide. He had barely a chance to shake off the water when His appeared in the doorway with a partially crafted arrow in one hand and a whittling knife in the other. Her expression and mind were both unreadable, so he puffed up his chest and arched his neck proudly against the stormy background.

Evrgarde stared at him a moment longer, then rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the weyr. She reappeared moments later with an earthen jug and a few towels. Iorath watched her curiously, but his unspoken questions were quickly answered when she knelt down besides his hindquarters. At some point he had acquired quite a gash. It wasn’t anything too serious, but blood was mixing with rainwater and flowed freely down his leg.

Foolish dragon, she muttered as she dried the area around the wound and began to apply the salve.

[Rowana]

Millieth was rising higher than ever now. Ruskeath's muscles ached with the effort to keep up, but he didn't care. It was a small discomfort to endure for the glory of the chase. The wind was swifter now, more unpredictable. He fought it at ever turn in a war against being blow off course. Twice he nearly was, but he still managed to keep himself behind his queen.

Rain was starting to drench them, making Millieth's hide glow all the brighter. She was truly beautiful, even in this weather. Ruskeath bellowed loudly in answer to the thunder and her cry. Water was his element, as natural to him as air. He fear not the storm or her tests. He would best them all if it would please her. The clouds were like a sea of their own, making it hard to see what lay ahead. He could just make out the twinkle of gold that was Millieth. She was slowing down. Surely she could not be ready to chose? No, she wasn't. Ruskeath felt a rush of determination. She had dismissed two of the others and he did not wish to be the third. He wanted to show he was worthy of the chase.

Here she was diving again, following the human path to the ocean shore. Ruskeath's eyes danced as he followed her. Tucking his wings he dropped again, spinning through the wind and rain before righting himself above the road. Had she seen? Even in this weather he could have fun. And here was the ocean! He let the wind take him just over the crashing waves, cutting through one with his tail as he rose higher after his queen. He wasn't afraid of the looming water and high crests. He knew this place far too well. Perhaps here he could show her he was worthy!

G'tor was sorry to see Dsoleth go. He had been a worthy rival. He was also worried. Would he be next? Kaegan had so far shown no interest in anyone besides to dismiss two. She seemed angry at Kierjaarth, but then why not? He might be a bronze, but did that give him the right to be late? As if Millieth were not worthy of instant response. G'tor ignored him and looked back to Kaegan. Would he warrant more attention? He hoped at least, she would not be angry with him. At least he was trying his best.

[Kisha-Ra]

Idith twitched with guilt when he felt the eyes of the queen brush him. She knew he was there, and she knew he was late, the question was: was she in a forgiving mood or not? He was sorry to be so late, and he did have a good reason; if things were left to his they’d now be far away. However Millieth was not required to pay the slightest mind to his sorrow or his reasons if she didn’t want to. She was his queen, and he should have been in the air the instant that she was.

The clouds closed around Idith a second time, no less thick, no less strange, than before, and yet now there was a goal in sight to take the surreal edge away from traversing the maze of clouds, illuminated as they were by the glow of the golden queen before him.

She took them high, higher than Idith had ventured in his effort to catch up to the flight, into more perilous air currents. She wished to test their bravery then. For a while sheer mass allowed Idith to prevail on a more or less under control course after the gold Trecherous winds did their best to blow him off course, or toss him away compleately but he mastered them all for his queen. He was a master of the skies! He was- caught in a crosswind that shook him about unmercifully for his arrogance while thunder growled around him, mocking him.

Idith folded his wings, dropped and rolled away from the bar air current, seeking something new to carry him along. For a few moments he skipped from current to current, using anything that might carry him in the right direction. Then, their queen was among them, dismissing the unworthy from her court. Two were cut off, then she came to Idith, for a moment he feared he would suffer their fate but she passed him by, granting a temporary reprieve from her ire.

Out over the ocean he flew boldly, it was wilder out here, more elemental, the ideal testing ground, and as yet Idith gave no thought to the fate of those who failed. The rian fell down and he seas rose up so much that at times Idith was confused as to which way up he was, he solved the problem by randomly rotating as the winds caught him. It didn’t really matter as long as he was with his queen.

[glamourie]

Checkoth turned to follow her near the end of the pack, beating his wings to make up the speed he’d lost by following at a lower pass. The movement gave him a clear view of the other dragons being essentially cut off from the chase and he felt sorry for them – especially that blue; he was brave to chase at all. Just the same, he spun forward, his attention wavering between Millieth and Behruth. Yes, she was his central focus, but… he couldn’t let his brother get hurt; if she took offense at that, he would be upset but not apologetic. He could only be who he was, and he cared about Behruth more than most others – R’wign, perhaps, as the only person who exceeded his fondness for his brown brother. And the growing winds were frightening. It was just getting more and more dangerous to fly in.

He didn’t dare follow Millieth into the clouds, instead remaining well enough above the ground to be out of the reach of the debris kicked up by the storm, but low enough to not be blown around by the wind. He was able to follow Millieth from the sight of her glow, outlined in the black storm clouds, and he used that to his advantage. If she stayed up in the clouds, maybe she’d run her own stamina down fighting against the wind – it was a thought that was more R’wign than Checkoth, but nevertheless prominent. Staying further down kept Behruth in his line of sight, too, and he cared enough about his clutchbrother to want to be near in case the wind and the rain became too much.

Not that he didn’t have faith in Behruth. He did. If any dragon could masterfully weave through the wind gusts, it was his clutchbrother. But the storm was bad, even Checkoth acknowledged it, and he was scared for the smaller dragon. Very, very scared.

He also really wished she’d stay either up or down – both was exhausting in the shearing winds. Not even the scenery, lit up by the lightning as it was, reassured him. It was only sheer stubbornness that kept Checkoth from landing and giving up; he wasn’t as strong as the bronzes or any of the other large browns, and he couldn’t hope to compare to them in terms of stamina. Intellectually, he knew that was what queenflights were about – greens were fast and agile, but queens were able to last longer. He just… wanted to believe he had a chance, even if His didn’t feel the same. Unfortunately, if Millieth kept flying up and down into the wind that way, he wouldn’t be able to catch gusts to keep up anymore, and he’d have to drop out. The brown resisted the urge to squeak in embarrassment, his gaze never quite leaving Millieth’s glowing golden form; at least it was easy to keep track of her through the storm. That was a boon in his favor, if nothing else was. The violet whirl of his eyes was rapidly increasing in speed. He didn’t have to turn to know that more bronzes had finally arrived – and the part of him that was R’wign was angry with them for showing their hides late; the part of him that was still R’wign was annoyed that anyone would disrespect the Senior Goldpair by not arriving immediately. The part of him that was Checkoth ignored them – only Millieth needed to have his attention and the storm was too bad to focus on anything else.

Loud thunder made him actually twitch his wings and waver, angling off to the side. His body flipped to fly at an angle to help deflect some of the wind gusts, propelling himself forward as they approached the water. He spied his clutchbrother out of the corner of his eye and a hint of anxiety filled him; was Behruth okay down there? He was tempted to ask, and only the fact that Behruth seemed okay stopped him. His clutchbrother was near the water as they soared over it and Checkoth stayed up – between the clouds and the waves both, just in case. He wasn’t going to get himself struck by lightning high above and with his luck he would get hit. He wasn’t the best at dodging. Couldn’t Millieth go back to the land where it was safe and not billowing with high waves? Maybe if he wished hard enough she’d do it; he was steadily growing more tired with the force of fighting against the wind.

[Lotty]

Let them be pissed. Let them be smug and turn up their noses at him because he was a little bit behind...wait, scratch that thought. He wasn't late at all in his mind, they were just early out the gate. Kierjaarth only needed the approval of the queen, and though it was reluctantly given to him, he was just pleased to find it granted. One could even say the two other dragons were excused to make room for him, but that would be just a smidge presumptuous. What he didn't expect was for Salenth to be so perturbed by his late arrival? Aww...how nice of him to show that he cared. What with being cut off and all? It was just so cute...well cute if Kierjaarth wasn't a hypersexualized bronze vessel of terror who would be willing to destroy anything in the way of his ultimate goal of reaching the queen. In his throat he felt the curdling vibrations of a deep growl, as he held back the desire to stretch his neck forward and take a chunk out of the other bronze's tail.

Instead he continued to trail behind. He was smaller than Salenth, he could use him as a shield, use him as a buffer against the high winds and rain. No reason to put yourself through unnecessary struggles, not at this stage in the game anyway....but this strategy would prove to be fruitless. It couldn't last long based on what Millieth did next, flying under him, warning him to put on his game or face the same fate that the blue and the brown did. The only way to ensure this, to garner the appropriate - and positive - attention that he needed, was to break away from the path being beaten by his slightly elder wingleader. Which is exactly what he did.

He split away, taking a lower route than did some of the other dragons when his dear Millieth went out to sea. What an appropriate route, her roar caught them and they were all hooked, leading the males out to into the tempestuous waters in the tradition of the mythical siren's from ages long forgotten. Kierjaarth skirted along the waves, pulling up here and there to avoid the rogue tides that tried to claim him for their own. The winds were trouble enough, with their twists and turns; hands pulling at his wings in all directions. He couldn't have that, he needed to be steadfast, he needed to be persistent, because you see, she was his and nobody else's. Having hatched at the same weyr gave him an added sense of possessiveness.

The counterpart back on land - Mi'rah - stoically withstood the harsh judgmental gaze and disapproving pose of the woman in front of him. Apologies were weak and unbecoming in situations like these, though that notion came more from the dragon side of him than anything. Faranth knows that if the rider was at all himself he'd be filled with regrets, but he watched her go, without a word of protest. She might fancy one of the others more, but this was only a temporary set back. He'd have her favorable glances soon enough.

[Ember]

Dsoleth watch the sky's rumble with one of his own when Millieth dsimissed one of her chasers. Ah, poor little blue. He should have known the queen would ask him to leave eventually. It was not safe for such a little dragon in a chase meant for bronzes. The browns were already testing their luck. In a moment though, Dsoleth found himself seperated from the other chasers, facing Millieth alone. No..not him too? As she left him the brown crooned dully, the violet hues being chased away by a more pathetic colour. Oh he had known all along he was not worthy but...to be dismissed hurt. Not even choosing another over him, he simply wasn't even worth being a contender.

The wind tossed him about like a ragged cloth for a moment before the brown felt another in his mind, comforting but not overtly so. He fought back power from the storm and watched the leaving gold and her suitors. She would not be his...Dsoleth folded his wings and let himself plummet closer to the earth, to where the winds were safer. He was very good at down but he much prefered to just float, catching the gentle breezes to keep him up. His spirits, too, seemed to go down easily. A tentative and still fuzzy mind made contact with him...and then withdrew. His knew it pained the brown. She'd...thought him little better than the blue. The blue could at least be considered brave, but what could be said about him?

Dsoleth finally stopped himself from falling further. He was sad but as long as he had His he would never wish for death. That was just foolish, and that was something he refused to be. Instead the brown made it to the shore and landed. Ah how his wings ached. Testament to the strength of nature. He did not seek out His for the plant stuff that took away pain though. Instead he curled up on the wet sand and shielded his head with his wings. He would wait...and weather the storm.

Slightly before Kaegan turned to him, T'san felt an aching sensation and knew it was about to end. He'd made no impression? None at all? It saddened him to think that the late bronzes were more worthy than he but if she told him to go he could not stay. He leaned slightly into the gold's touch before the lust finally let go of his mind. No longer was his mind clouded, though as always there was still the desire...He fought it off long enough to check on Dsoleth and sighed at the state of the brown's mind. He'd be moping around for a few days. Oh well. There was always that risk. Now then, it was easier to take care of his urges than wait them out so he left the room to locate a flightmoth...

[Tashe]

As she turned, Millieth watched momentarily, the smaller Browns as they battled the swells and the winds. Descending to the level that Behruth flew, the Queen glided next to him for a few moments deciding whether or not his participation was worth the risk. He in her mind, stood a very low chance of even making it into her top contenders circle, but he had been very impressive. Cresting a wave, Millieth swung her head toward the Brown and rumbled at him, dismissing him from the flight and allowing him to return to the safety of the mainland. Hesitating, she pulled away from his side and rose higher, spinning and dropping slightly to keep her altitude. Repeating the process of gliding directly beside of her next chaser, the Gold tilted her head so that she could inspect Checkoth. He had been a good contender, but as with Behruth, the brown wasn't very high up on her list at the moment. The slowly increasing rain was forcing her to make decisions faster than she would have wished, making her compensate in more than one way. The storm, was no longer fun. Letting herself slow so that their heads were parallel to each other, Millieth brushed Checkoths mind, excusing him as she had done with the others. The thunder would have drowned out any noise she would have made.

Peeling away from the Brown she rose to the heights where her slightly larger competitors were waiting...

--

Wondering away from G'tor (she had wondered there only moments ago to admire), Millieth paused in front of the small Brown. Pausing in front of him, the Queen reached out and tucked some of his hair behind his ear before resting her hand on his cheek. He had been courageous. And he should be glad he was able to last so long in this weather! She did not want to make him sad, not after having heeded her call so quickly. But he was dismissed. Slowly dropping her hand, Millieth turned and left the Brown to his own devices... maybe she would go and play with Salenth...

---

Now who was left? Salenth, Ruskeath, Idith... and that Bronze who she knew nothing of. It seemed as though she always had one Brown that made it far into the chase, maybe it spoke of a true pleasure that was hidden. What ever the case may be, she would have to eliminate another quickly, she was growing tired. Flaring her wings, Millieth let the winds propel her back toward land, it was over land that she would make the final climb. The sea was much to dangerous to even think of preforming it there. As soon as she hit land, she angled upward, only to drop down again and change direction. Up again, she spiraled upward so that her path crossed with Kierjaarth's, avoiding him at the last moment. She pressed against his mind firmly, so that there was no mistake that he had been dismissed from her flight. Leaving him in her wake, Millieth began to climb, leading her final three males higher into the air.

---

Although she didn't give Kierjaarth the same tender touch farewell as she had given Behruth, the Queen laid a hand on his shoulder gently smiling up at him. He might not be familiar, but he at least deserved to be sent off kindly. Pacing away, she stopped by G'tor to tug on his arm, signaling him to follow her. Walking backward with her hands behind her back, Millieth/Kaegan gave both her remaining suiters a flirtatious smile. They should be honored to have made it so far! They were in her final grouping, and soon to be in her final two...

---

Arching her back, she did her best to fall in a straight line, eventually leveling out a good few dragon lengths away from her intended spot. She rumbled unhappily as she flapped her way over to Idith. Brushing his mind, much lighter than she had done with Kierjaarth, she let him know that he was done. Dismissed. He, although at fault for being late, had done a fine job in the storm. But he did not stand out like her Brown and her Bronze. Drifting away from him, she began to Rise once more, climbing higher and higher. It was when she reached the zenith of her climb, did she finally decide on who she wanted. Letting herself drop, she angled her self straight... at...

--

He was hers! He was her Salenth now, he would be King again. Stepping deftly forward, she pressed herself up against the taller man, her hands sliding up his chest. She was pleased with her choice. And he should be very pleased as well. All she wanted was to be enveloped in his embrace... Her Salenth...

[Requiem]

It was all he could do to keep his expression noncommittal. He wasn't consumed by Flightlust. But spitting at Kaegan was worthless. The woman wasn't the one who'd left Behruth to the storm and the seas, not even realizing that he couldn't fight the winds lashing outwards from the mainland. Just left him high and dry. No, of course he didn't expect her to personally help, but she could have easily nudged one of the other dragons... M'ta slid from the room, feeling sick to his stomach.

Behruth was a little disappointed, but not surprised. He might have been surprised by the emotions of His had not the brownrider still been shielding him from them. Millieth was perfect, after all. He only regretted he couldn't weather the storm. Of course...there was the issue of returning against the headwinds. He twisted, banking wildly to miss a wave that almost caught him broadside. His wings were getting so tired... The pain in his muscles ached, but they were cold, and he knew that wasn't right. Worked muscles should not be cold. Millieth had passed by Checkoth, too.

He wouldn't have asked normally, not when Checkoth still had a chance, but his clutchbrother had been rejected too. Behruth touched on his mind hesitantly....Checkbrother...the wind, it's-
But of course his weyrmate already knew. Beloved clutchbrother. Beloved Checkoth. He crooned, helping his weyrmate fly as best he could as the pair fought the terrible winds, flying low. Only when they could use the land to shield them from the worst of it did Checkoth let go, but even then he flew close. Just in case, as like as not. Behruth settled on their ledge warily, disappearing out of the cold and rain, trembling from reaction and fatigue as he pressed close against his weyrmate.

The branch was placed between them. Millieth gave it to us. Isn't it pretty? He didn't hear Checkoth's response, distracted by the sodden healer rushing out. Behruth's head dipped. Tired. He was asleep instantly.

---

Dragons were leaving. Dismissed. To say that he was surprised he wasn't among their number would be a lie. The first to chase, one of the strongest...if she didn't seriously consider him, she would have been a fool. And it seemed that she wasn't, considering she was cutting this short. Even though he was focused on Millieth, it hadn't gone unnoticed that most of the browns were having trouble with the storm. It would be rather unfortunate to lose any, who had only wished to pay the queen her due. (Of course none of them could actually think they had a chance.)

Just him and one of the larger of the browns remaining. He used his strength - which was being tested in these conditions more than it had in a good while - to maintain his position. Waiting. Did she wish one last trial? He would show himself superior there, too. No offense to the brown, of course, but Ruskeath couldn't compare, not without other dragons to distract Millieth's attention.

No, it seemed she was through testing them. He crooned to her. Smart, beautiful one.

His croon was deepthroated, as her hands slid up his chest, the first sound he'd made since entering the room. This was as it should be. Unlike the younger ones likely would have reacted to her attentions, he relished her closeness, the demand inherent in it - and made the Queen wait a few precious moments before reacting. She'd yielded herself to him, and he intended to take his time with it. Why rush his conquest? It would be over soon enough either way.

The man's arms enfolded her. He bent, pressed a kiss to her forehead, lowering until his hands kneaded the back of her thighs where they coiled to lift her gently. Her arms would find his neck, he was certain, and...if not...he wasn't going far. A glance was cast over his shoulder, expression stern. To any who hadn't left the room immediately, the message was clear. He wanted to be alone with his queen.