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Post by Administrator on Nov 27, 2008 8:09:23 GMT -5
Aslath was sleeping, curled up on her ledge with a fierce shine that made it clear that she was a ticking time bomb. Shmee was watching, her blue eyes accepting this fate. While she knew that Aslath had been kinder toward Salenth, there was always the very strong possibility that he would not be the one who Aslath picked, meaning Shmee would have to tangle with another man-- again. She gritted her teeth anxiously. Shei was already being babysat by another woman, so that was taken care of. Arlo crooned, nuzzling her neck where he sat, perched on her shoulder. But she was ready. She had it all planned out-- she would get dressed the moment she woke up and take a ride with Robika and Kmarath between. It would be an abortion before she even knew if she was pregnant. She would only carry a babe, she decided long before, if it was S'rei's. Still, the burn of sleeping with someone else burned her, but she reassured herself by knowing it wouldn't be anything real. Except, of course, the Weyrleadership.
Aslath began to stir, and Shmee knew it was time. Walking quickly (not running, mind you), she began to move up the long flight of stairs that led to the top of the Falls and, eventually, the path to the Flight rooms. She liked the Flight rooms more than her own weyr for Flights; it didn't feel as much like betrayal in the Flight rooms. But even as she did so, Aslath's violent purple eyes snapped open, and she gave a fierce howl of rage and lust. Shmee picked up her speed ever so slightly, but she was almost there. One more flight of stairs, and then she was ready. Arlo nuzzled her pale neck in encouragement. Already could Shmee feel the harsh whip of Aslath's powerful emotions, and she finally broke into a run just as Aslath pushed herself from the weyrledge. This was her game. The gold circled over the Feeding Grounds, growling hungrily to the poor creatures beneath her. She knew her males would be joining her any moment for this feast.
The gold descended onto her first victim: a slow-moving herdbeast that looked up at her in terror. She grunted as she latched her claws into its back and slammed him against the ground, breaking its neck. Hungrily, she aimed first at its stomach, but Shmee's stern NO. BLOOD ONLY.[/b] kept Aslath from eating. She snarled, and instead threw herself at its neck, draining the blood from the beast. Blood dribbled down Aslath's muzzle as she found a second one. More commands from Shmee, more blood. This was repeated several times with more herdbeasts, and each time was with less resistance to Shmee. Shmee, had managed to get into the Flight rooms, and finally allowed herself to join in Aslath's mind. She licked her lips of the hot blood she felt dribbling from the corners of her mouth. But she cast the last drained animal away and looked up at the sky. It was time for her to fly.
Pushing herself straight into the air, she gave another long howl, but this time, it was a challenge. She expected the bronzes to rise after her immediately, of course. They would be unable to resist a beauty such as she!
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Post by dragon on Nov 27, 2008 10:08:50 GMT -5
"Now pay attention, here. This is important." E'yan was saying, verbally, one section of a scroll held in one hand with vague drawings on it. "Hey! Are you listening to me??" He asked, frustrated. Kindrith spent so much time distracted by the weyr full of female dragons that they almost never got anywhere with thier actual duties. And E'yan was bound and determined to make some of Kindrith's time in the air something besides excersizes gleaned from chasing greens. When he didn't get the blue's attention, he delivered a sharp kick to one of Kindrith's front legs.
Startled, Kindrith's head swung around to look at his rider.
"Pay attention! We have to ... GAR!!" E'yan grumped, as the dragon looked away again. He heaved a sigh, and walked over to a log to sit down and look at what he had drawn on the parchment. "You really need to get your head in the ga-" He paused, when the sound of the Queen's roar bellowed out across the entire weyr.
"Shards! Don't you dare! Don't you dare get off the ground!" E'yan said, leaping to his feet and pointing with one long arm at the blue. "Do you hear me?!"
I hear you. Kindrith said, before leaping off the ground with an answering bellow. He was not bronze, but that did not mean that he would not chase, that he would not try. Kindrith could not resist. The lusty blue answered the call despite the frustrated howls that chased after him from his rider, leaving the poor man stranded in the forest yet again.
"Sharding dragon is going to get himself killed... if not me, too, while he's at it!" E'yan grumped, looking around at the forest around him. It would be just his luck if there were any wild felines or hungry wherries in the area. Resigned to ride out yet another futile flight, E'yan plopped down on the log again and resolved to not move. Kindrith wasn't going to get him running in crazy circles through the woods again, no.
Kindrith circled overhead, warbling happily as he witnessed Aslath's feeding. But he never landed. Blues didn't blood, there was no point in it. He'd end up falling out of the flight before it was half over - but he wasn't one to admit that. She was here. He was here. He answered her call.
When she left the ground, Kindrith swerved aside, getting out of the way of those massive, magnificent golden wings. Circling around behind and below, he fell in behind to follow her through the sky.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Nov 27, 2008 12:01:19 GMT -5
He was resigned to it. Corinth, like many of the bronzes of the Weyr, was attuned to the senior queen and several days previously, he'd commented quietly that she was 'very pretty.' And so she was, and so the Bronzerider had settled to wait. In some way, he was glad for Aslath's Rising. The sooner Corinth Chased and was rejected by gold, the sooner he'd stop this ridiculous, pointed Chasing of only greens with male Riders. Yes, the sooner the better. Aslath could Rise, Corinth could Chase, one of the Wingleading bronzes - Ciceroth or Salenth or Kirayuth - would catch her, as was normal (wasn't it?) and then life could go on at a much happier rate. In the face of this, the bronzeman was not - doing anything. Had not been, for the past few days, either, except for oiling Corinth. Watching the bronze bathe. Watching him fly. As if aerial prowess would ensure that Aslath would Choose him.
T'rid mulled absently over the bronze's form on the Weyrledge, hazel eyes speculative. Corinth was not asleep, no; T'rid could see the gleam of colors in the bronze's eyes, his muzzle hanging over the ledge, chin propped on his foreclaws. The question that was currently rolling around his head was - where on Pern did Corinth get his - ambition from? Certainly not from T'rid. The Bronzerider had never aspired to be Weyrleader. Part of the lack of enthusiasm concerning the rank was the level of responsibility that came with it. What fun was it, dealing with poker-faced Lord Holders all day, not being able to taunt people at Wing Drills, having your day stuffed full of activities that you couldn't draw breath? Neither did the Weyrwoman herself appeal highly to T'rid. He was no great fan of Shmee's, and if it came down to the brutal truth, he'd probably try to foist off the position of Weyrleader on S'rei or Ka'rys or someone else anyways. Really, it was almost too bad, sometimes, that dragons were fully sentient...so much easier, it would be, if dragons just took the opinions of their Riders and left it at that.
But of course, that never happened. That was the unmentioned downside of a dragonrider: There was always a voice in your head that disagreed with you.
The Bronzerider yawned, stretching as he turned to reenter his Weyr, when - Corinth's head shot up - and the all-too-familiar Flightlust - T'rid hissed at the explosion of heat that began in his stomach and spread outwards, tingling through him. He leapt for his bronze's mind, wrested with it. May I go now? the bronze's tones were testy, annoyed, as he spoke. No! No, Corinth, don't - He was supposed to be grateful for this reprieve, but - he wasn't. He didn't want the loss of control, even the slimmest chance of becoming Weyrleader. He didn't want it. At all. Even if it meant bolting out of the Flightrooms after Corinth caught male-Ridden greens. Even if. Too bad. Ignoring T'rid's yelp of fury, the bronze cut off the connection save for the flow of lust that hit T'rid so hard that he staggered - and Corinth took the opportunity.
Wings snapped open, the bronze body launching fluidly from the Weyrledge, a bugle ringing from his throat as Corinth dropped his wings, arching sideways over the edge of the stone ledge and plunging down, the ground rushing up towards him before he caught himself, bugling again as he swept into the Feeding Grounds, a bloodthirsty growl emerging from the bronze as he closed his wings, landing on a large herdbeast and closing his teeth around its throat, sucking on the still-struggling creature till the blood ran in red rivulets around his foreclaws, the brilliant scarlet marked against the bronze of his mouth. His crouched position, wings half-unfurled against his shoulders, haunches tucked under him and tail brought around his side, made him look like some primal beast over its kill; with a flick of his head, the herdbeast's carcass, bloodless, went flying, limbs askew as it fell to the ground.
Another pounce, and a second herdbeast struggled as the bronze sated the thirst, the creature's lifeblood dying the ground and the bronze muzzle and claws as Corinth's eyes whirled faster, the purple depths fixed on Aslath. The herdbeast's body fell limp, and Corinth ignored it, not bothering to toss it away and simply jumping over it, pouncing on another and dragging it to one side, the thirst now replaced by the excitement, the energy, of Chase. Fly, Aslath, fly! His teeth flashed, plunging into hide again, tongue forking out to keep the gushing blood from spilling wastefully onto the ground. Fly, Aslath. The bronze's tail lashed in excitement as he flicked his head, the herdbeast's carcass slamming to the ground a distance away, throwing back his head and arching his neck to croon excitedly. He was ready. He was blooded and ready, and most of all, he was worthy. (Much more worthy, anyways, than the blue that had first showed; was he crazy? There was no way that Aslath would Choose him!)
Ah, was she Rising now? Corinth launched himself into the air, his eyes narrowing in slight irritation at the blue. Did he not deign to blood? Because he knew he was unworthy, or because he thought Aslath unworthy? The latter of these was the one to which Corinth latched onto. It seemed much more likely; if he knew he was unworthy, why Chase at all? The bronze knew that blues were more agile. Quicker. He accepted that. Fine. It didn't matter anyways. No endurance; he'd drop out halfway. In fact, Corinth would be impressed if he managed more than a quarter of the way. The bronze wheeled, putting himself a distance away from Kindrith as he winged after Aslath, following her path in the sky. Tricks came later, when the blue couldn't outdo him and make him look clumsy. For now, it was merely a Chase.
The bronzerider had tried to fight it. He had. Tried to stifle it, to ignore the furious, hot lust pounding through him. To no avail. His mouth was open, panting as he all but writhed, back pressed flat against the wall as he shook his head, trying to disperse the Flightlust. T'rid uttering a slight whine of irritation, his tongue inadvertantly wetting his dry lips as he felt blood running over his tongue, down his throat...he ran a distracted hand through his hair, whirling on his heel, the lust overwhelming human sense, another noise of frustration leaving his lips. But this was not in protest of the violent desire. This was anger, at himself for not already being with Shmee/Aslath. Why was she so far away? He hissed as he tore at his tunic, flinging the offending material in much the same way that Corinth had disposed of his kills, savage satisfaction tightening his eyes for that brief second when his shirt hit the wall, hard, and fell before he spun, darting out the door.
Aslath, Aslath - where was Aslath? Anyone who was in T'rid/Corinth's way was rewarded with a violent shove and a snarl, a wordless reproach that curled his lip in something distinctly menacing. Stupid people...greens, blues, browns, and bronzes. They all got in his way, but none were nearly as lovely as the gold he yearned to see. Where was she? An agitated whine started in the bronze's throat as he threw himself up a flight of stairs, heedless of anyone heading in the opposite direction and probably tripping up quite a number of people. Flightrooms, ahead. And there...Shmee/Aslath.
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Rei
Administrator
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Post by Rei on Nov 27, 2008 16:01:38 GMT -5
Kaaoloth raised his great head and swung it out over the weyrledge to warble in response to Aslath’s cry. Sel’n jumped up from the bed where he had been lounging as the familiar sensation of flight lust hit him like the all encompassing coldness of a trip between. “Kaaoloth no don’t.” His cry was half pleading half cold fear. Unbidden memories of the flight that had tarnished their reputations flew through his mind. He could not stand that again. Was not one gold flight enough? Apparently not.
I am sorry Sel’mine The dragon intoned a slight wave of pity evident in his tone as he awkwardly rose from the ledge and bugled to the glorious queen who now held his undivided attention. She would be his! Her glorious golden form was too much for him to resist. He jumped from the ledge and glided down to the feeding grounds, going so far as to croon at the object of his raging desire.
The brown dropped like a stone upon a herdbeast and fastened his great maw around the struggling beast’s neck draining its blood even as it fought for its survival. He threw that beast’s worthless body aside and was on another only pausing to snarl at the bronze, which was already in attendance, before latching onto the beast and draining its blood much in the same fashion as the first. When Aslath vaulted into the air he was but breaths behind her great golden form his large wings pushing at the air driving him higher and higher.
A flash of blue passed by his lust filled purple whirling eyes. He hissed in irritation. How could the blue disgrace Aslath by even joining in her flight. His lips pulled back over his gleaming fangs but he made no move to approach the blue. He would not disgrace Aslath so. His eyes focused on the gleaming golden form ahead of him. She was all that mattered.
Sel’n didn’t even bother to fight against the all encompassing lust that flowed through him. He had been through enough flights to know how useless such an action was. He allowed his mind to become one with his beloved dragon leaving the flight to him. Sel’n/Kaaoloth vaulted up the stairs to the flight rooms following closely behind the bronze ahead of him. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl. The bronze could try his best but Shmee/Aslath would be his!
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Post by glamourie on Nov 27, 2008 17:48:47 GMT -5
He really should have left. Ka'rys leaned back against the wall of his weyr, rubbing his eyes slightly. The majority of his instincts were screaming for him to flee. Queens were noticeable when close to flight, from the dull glow their hide took, and the bronzes could sense when they'd take to the air long before humans picked up on it. The last time Ciceroth fed, he'd blooded, and Ka'rys swore under his breath. Normally, that would have been a sign to him to run away to Blossom Hold and he wanted to, badly. Queenflights were not fun experiences, and after the last disaster (how dare Ciss actually catch Aslath), he wasn't looking forward to the idea of facing Shmee again. He was also sure Shmee wasn't looking forward to the idea of facing him either. So why did he choose to stay? Answer: Because Ciceroth wanted to. He couldn't bring himself to take his dragon away when it meant something to him to stay, though why, Ka'rys had no idea. It wasn't as if Aslath really liked him. Flightlust was a strange thing. One would think Ciceroth of all the bronzes would realize what a mistake staying put was, but... alas.
Sleep was impossible, though whether that was because of anxiety or just general insomnia, he couldn't say. He chose, instead of sleeping, to sit curled up against the wall of his weyr alone. Ophelie was nestled against his neck, chirruping consolingly. She didn't understand his nervousness at all, and Ka'rys couldn't have explained it in words she would understand. It wasn't just his own worries that stirred in his mind. Savitri didn't function well during queenflights. He remembered very vividly how bad her physical state became when Millieth Rose, and he wasn't eager to see her in such a disarray again. Normally, Ciceroth would have soothed his worries, assured him that Hepaticath would take care of her rider and that he was being silly -- but the bronze had only one gold on his mind, and his attention was completely focused on her. He barely registered his rider's worries, and what little he recognized was ignored. There were more important things at hand.
The pale bronze was lying on his weyrledge, tail flicking animatedly. The agitated whirl of his eyes was more than enough warning. His gaze was fixated on Aslath's slumbering form, entranced, and when she awoke, he rose. Ciceroth made a point to stretch out as much as physically possible, arching his wings around him. The movement highlighted just how large his wings were, almost unnaturally so; the disproportion was noticeable but not necessarily unattractive. Large wings for gliding over long distances.
Over the weyrledge he threw himself and he glided up and out of the canyon. Gracefully, Ciceroth came to land at the edge of the feeding grounds, far enough away from Aslath that he was out of clawing range, but close enough to get a good look at her. He also put a surprising amount of distance between himself and the other males. Territorial, he was. Under most circumstances, Ciceroth was one of the nicer bronzes, perfectly willing to talk to other dragons, particularly those of lesser rank, as if they were equals. He liked the company of browns usually, and particularly of greens. Flightlust changed things. A mingling of personalities bled over between Ciceroth and Ka'rys; the bronzerider took on more of his dragon's patience and consideration, while Ciceroth took on Ka'rys's ruthless practicality. The combination could be frightening. It was more noticeable in Ka'rys, who usually talked more, became more outgoing and expressive -- it was almost like talking to a completely different person. Wisely, no one had ever told Ka'rys, but his personality started shifting at least three days before queenflights. Ka'rys became friendly.
Friendly or not, though, he was still nervous. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed. He inhaled, then exhaled sharply to keep himself in control, even as the beginnings of flightlust stirred through his mind. Through eyes not his own, he could see a shining light moving amongst herdbeasts, tearing them apart. He was hungry, too, but not for flesh or blood; he'd killed the day before, there was no need to do so right before the flight. Ka'rys raised his hands to cover his eyes and took another deep breath, barely noticing as Ophelie disappeared between in a flutter of wings; she seemed to recognize what her pet was experiencing and wanted no part of it. Neither did Ka'rys, but resistance was futile.
Ciceroth circled, tail flipping behind him defiantly. His eyes were locked on Aslath's golden form, watching her every movement with the same intensity a predator had for prey. Each movement was calculated and graceful. He did not register that there were other males around him; they weren't a challenge in his eyes, nor worthy of his notice. Only she was, with her lustrous hide glittering like starlight. Not the sun's harsh orange glow, nor the moon's silver touches, she was a color all her own. He made no noise, nor attempt to speak, instead simply stretching. His eyes never quite left her and with each step, his interest became more and more prevalent. The herdbeasts were hers, and he would not insult her by coming closer. He'd fed before for that purpose. A queen's meal was her own and he had no right to partake. Similarly, he had no desire to move closer... yet. Further back gave him a full view of her impressive body, sleek and slender, built for speed.
The second she launched into the air, he followed, his body propelled upward in a whirl of speed. The sound of her challenge echoed around him and he followed her soundlessly into the sky. His landbound was quickly drowned in the lust he felt, but no part of him moved from his spot; curled into a ball was Ka'rys, and his mind was completely in the air.
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Post by weaving on Nov 27, 2008 22:03:47 GMT -5
He’d been shirking at his duties and now he’d be paying for it. Putting off lesson plans was all fine and dandy until the day before lessons came about. Now he had to spend the entirety of the day in his office lest he find something or someone to distract him. Morendoth was usually good at doing that, but the brown had been quiet today. Last he’d checked, the beast was sunning himself out by the riverbank. He’d probably feed later, bathe and then demand a good oiling, but that wouldn’t be for a few hours yet. I’fael had time to work in peace. Hopefully these plans wouldn’t take too long.
Morendoth stirred in the back of his mind, causing I’fael to frown faintly. If the brown posed to throw a loop into his plans he’d have none of it. This work needed to be done and Morendoth would just have to deal with it. The weyrlingmaster attempted to ignore it, but having been in tune with the brown for well over twenty turns, it was difficult to ignore what was growing painfully obvious.
“Shard it Morendoth! What sort of dimglow are you, chasing after a queen, the Senior queen no less!” I’fael’s voice echoed loudly through the halls as he took off through the weyrling barracks, cursing the brown as he went. He’d never reach the weyr in time, but at least he could get out of the barracks. If he were to somehow find his way into an occupied room while he was in the midst of flight lust…well, he’d resign. There was no way that he would allow himself to inflict that sort of damage on the growing bond of a weyrling pair. Even if they somehow managed to forgive him, he would never forgive himself.
But she is pretty and shiny. Morendoth’s reply was very much meant to merely poke fun at I’fael, who growled as he exited the barracks and ran toward the weyrs. Stupid brown, chasing for no other reason than because her hide was shiny. Stupid, stupid,, stupid brown.
Relax. This will be fun. Morendoth chuckled to himself as he spoke, pausing in his blooding of a herdbeast to glance in direction of his rider. As lovely as Aslath was, he knew that he had little hope in catching her in the air. Still, the enjoyment he received for putting I’fael in this position was worthwhile to the brown. Aslath’s cry recaptured his attention, sending a wave of adrenaline flowing through his veins. With an answering cry, the brown let the dry carcass he held fall, leaping into the air with the other males, the only thing on his mind being the glowing form of Aslath.
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Post by ravenmane on Nov 28, 2008 0:55:00 GMT -5
He knew what was going to happen. There was nothing he could do about it. The blasted beast was determined to Chase Aslath and not any other female. For quite awhile, the Bronze had watched quietly as Greens Rose and roared their challenges, but the male had not taken to the skies after them. Instead, Cyanth had simply studied the sinuous forms before turning away to sleep. P’nor had honestly been shocked by the normally lusty Bronze’s disinterest in the beautiful Greens that took to the sky. Whereas P’nor was… going through a bit of withdrawal as of late. His body had grown used to the constant Flightlust and consequences that followed, but because Cyanth refused to Chase for some unknown reason, P’nor was feeling a bit more wanting then he normally would. In fact, the poor man had begun watching a poor Weyrling with interest during lunch yesterday before he snapped out of it and went to dunk his head in some ice cold water. Cyanth had laughed for a long time that afternoon while Athol showed not-so-appropriate images to him for a few candlemarks. Badbad Biggest and Bigger. They badbad. BAAAAD Bigger and Biggest. “Shut up now, Squee, or I’ll turn you into a nice blue hat.” P’nor growled through tightly clenched teeth as he stared quietly at Cyanth.
Something had caught the Bronze’s attention, and there could only be one thing. Aslath. She would Rise soon, and it was times like these that P’nor cursed both Cyanth’s rank and the Golden Queen’s existence. So far, his dragon had been wounded in every Flight he entered when it came to that Golden nightmare, and if it happened again, P’nor swore that he would take up permanent residence in the farthest South Continent settlement he could find. Being Weyrleader was not something he wanted if it resulted in the wounding of his beloved Bronze every time he Chased. It is almost time., Nor-Mine. Cyanth spoke slowly and quietly, but he did not move from his position except for the twitching of his tail-tip. Both Squee and Athol had begun moving away from the weyrledge and its occupant (and P’nor) cautiously. Although the Blues despised each other, it was times like these that they compromised and became temporary allies. Don’t Chase, Cy. Please don’t. I can’t stand knowing you could get hurt again. P’nor began to walk towards his Bronze, but a howl more primitive animal then draconic surged through the air like lightning.
I can’t resist, Nor-Mine, but I am not sorry. Aslath is a beautiful Queen. Cyanth allowed himself a brief glance at his rider before he heaved himself to his feet and threw himself into the air. An equally feral roar erupted from his mouth, ripping through the sky as the Bronze winged with way to the Feeding Grounds. He would win; No one else would ever claim his beautiful Queen! Lust surged through his veins, drugging his senses, but heightening his emotion like nothing else could do. Only one thing had thrust him forward, and only one thing held his attention like the brightest beacon in the darkest sky. With lust he had resisted before pouring into his veins adding to the lust he felt for the Queen, Cyanth felt invincible. There was no one that could stand in his way and the Bronze would go as far as to attack another for her. As she came into his line of sight, the Bronze growled angrily. So far, a Blue, three other Bronzes, and a single Brown were his only competition but that was one Blue, three Bronzes, and one Brown too many for his tastes. Cyanth struck down a large buck with savage precision as he arrived at the Feeding Grounds. His teeth ripped open the innocent creature’s throat with impatience while the dragon began to drain the carcass of its life’s blood. The Bronze unaware of how many creatures he drained of blood, but it did not matter. Aslath did though. Then, the Queen launched her glowing form into the air, and Cyanth followed with five other males.
Meanwhile, P’nor had been drowned in a flood of Flightlust, more then he had ever experienced, and the man staggered from shock like a man that was too drunk to even get into his own bed, but the Bronzerider some how managed to break out into a run as he hurried to the Flightrooms. His fire-lizard flew around him, chattering with fear. The man never acted like this when the Big One Chased the also much larger females and Athol was unusually worried. An annoyed P’nor swatted furiously at the fire-lizard as he stumbled up the last Flight of stairs. It was enough to aggravate the fire-lizard even more, but Athol was smart enough to between and leave P’nor alone with his ocean of lust. As for P’nor’s state of mind, he was much more occupied with the beauty that stood behind him. She was an astounding creature, and she would be His. No one else would have such a beauty for himself. NO ONE!
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Post by Administrator on Nov 28, 2008 9:07:53 GMT -5
Aslath roared in fury. This was all!? This was all?! There were hardly any dragons! She growled at her followers. She was disappointed even with the few who did show up! The three bronzes were fine beasts, naturally (one of them had even sired her queen daughter!), but two browns and, what was worse, a blue?! It was an insult to her! She screeched again, but she didn't actively descend to attack the blue. He wouldn't last a minute, and therefore, he wasn't worth her time. Instead... she could get rid of him quickly. She was built to get rid of little fools like Kindrith. She knew that little maneuvers, however quick, wouldn't do it unless she did it for a long time, but she knew that if she soared up really quickly and reached really high altitudes, he wouldn't stand a chance. Stupid blue. She so longed to scratch him, but Aslath had more control than that. She'd just exhaust his energy before he even had any.
With this thought in mind, she sharply pulled up, pumping her wings furiously to go as high as she could, as fast as she could. This would, hopefully, lose the insulting little blue. Maybe, if she was lucky, it would even lose the browns! Her three handsome bronzes would be all that was left. And they were very handsome! As she leveled out in the sky, she flicked her tail provocatively at the bronzes. Which one would she like? There was Ciceroth, her queen-sire, already known as faithfully producing strong children, or there was the young buck, Corinth, who she knew well, or maybe Cyanth, who had always Chased her in the past. Those were pretty much her only options. The brown and the blue simply wouldn't do. Only a bronze would be worth her time. Unless, of course, a brown happened to prove he was better. She wouldn't feel guilty about taking a brown, but bronzes were known to be much better.
Innocently, Aslath flipped, executing a textbook-perfect barrel roll. She loved the freedom of the air to move in the ways she liked. She could be the beautiful, stunning, radiant queen, and flaunt this fact by becoming a dancer in the sky. Oh, how it would make the males yearn for her! Undoubtedly, they would try to reach out for her even at the beginning, being unable to resist their glowing temptation. But she would sternly bat them away; nobody would have the chance to catch her quite yet! She would lead them on the wildest chase they could ever imagine, and only then would she choose who it was that would have the chance to sire her next clutch. She had to be careful, of course: She would only accept the very best, regardless of color-- except that stupid little blue.
Shmee hissed as she felt the presence of many males surround her. She was Aslath now, so she wasn't bothered by them. Rather, she was dismayed that there were so few of them! She, like Aslath, understood that there was a severe absence of these males, and she would be sure to raise hell among the Weyr after this Flight. Maybe examine their brains; what bronze could resist her!? She snarled again, and, to soothe herself, grabbed hold of the nearest male-- Sel'n-- and began stroking his arm dangerously, but lustily. Oh, how this contact felt so good...
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Nov 28, 2008 15:15:38 GMT -5
Corinth was almost disappointed, in a perverse twist, at the lack of bronzes that had shown up. (The browns, the single silly blue, didn't - count, really; they were simply too unworthy.) Only two others beside him (and if only Aslath would see that he was better?), and then there were the two browns, and then a single blue. A blue! The bronze nearly sneered, though at Aslath's growl - and properly indignant she was, he supposed, at the lack of Chasers - he uttered an almost consoling croon in response. Some detached, cold part of the bronze was dismayed for the Weyr at the lack of competition - wasn't there something about the more Chasers, the longer the Flight, and, thus, the larger the Clutch? But the part of him wholly controlled by lust - was pleased. Less competition for him to deal with.
The bronze, the youngest in the Flight, couldn't repress the hiss of satisfaction, sent at Kindrith, which slipped into a quiet, encouraging croon to Aslath, at the queen's flight course. Yes! Shed the weakest link. Push higher. Faster. Corinth wasn't doing anything by halves; he used the slightest wind to his advantage as he followed Aslath. This was no Greenflight with the dangerous jungle-dances; this was a real Flight, with a prize worth having. Purposely throwing himself sideways, in front of Kindrith, the bronze maneuvered himself in an attempt to keep himself in front of the much smaller blue, pushing faster, wings scooping at the air in pursuit of the golden queen. Faster, faster...the wind whipped past, the bronze barely noticing, brilliant purple jeweled eyes focused on Aslath.
A barrel roll - Corinth hummed in appreciation. Here was where his small form - though he still, the bronze noted with a vaguely smug pleasure, outsized the browns - could be put to good use, no? The bronze closed his wings, using his momentum to send himself into a forward roll, wings snapping open as he righted himself, tail whipping out for balance. Okay, so strictly speaking he hadn't needed to flip, but as Aslath had chosen to display her skills, and this was, after all, a Flight - why waste the time she'd given? Besides, so early in the Flight, it was no good trying to close the distance between them; she'd merely evade him - Aslath was too senior, too experienced, to be caught so early on!
Humph. Browns and blues. A disgrace...they'd better hope that in the records, they were written out of Aslath's Flight, or they'd have to be reported as miserably falling behind. So thought Corinth as he pushed forward, crooning again in his eagerness, almost encouragingly, wings beating at the air as he followed Aslath. There would be no limits to this Queenflight, surely, with such a lovely queen at its head.
Not many. The blue was - curiously absent, and T'rid/Corinth much prefered it that way. No ridiculous little blue with an oversized ego thinking he could keep up with the senior queen around. Stupid blue. The bronze's eyes narrowed as he regarded the two other bronzes - the only competition, in his eyes - for the briefest moment, a flash of condescension visible in those hazel eyes before he returned his gaze, lust now dominating, to Shmee/Aslath. Such a glowing, gorgeous gold...but wait! Why was she touching a brown?! He wasn't worthy to be within five dragonlengths of her, much less to have her touching him. T'rid/Corinth couldn't repress the quiet, clearly jealous hiss that emerged, his eyes flickering over Sel'n/Kaaoloth and then back to Shmee/Aslath. He could not appreciate her attention like a bronze could, could he now? An anxious half-croon, half-whine slipped from T'rid/Corinth's throat, head tilted to one side as he regarded Shmee/Aslath now.
Wouldn't she give her attention to someone who deserved it?
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Rei
Administrator
Rider Cr'oph Rider Er'ani Rider Elysia Rider/Healer Erilena Wherhandler Sydney Holdbrat Emitre Holdbrat Dileina Weyrbrat Elias Weyrbrat Terilyn
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Post by Rei on Nov 28, 2008 17:30:53 GMT -5
Kaaoloth hummed in appreciation at the great golden Queen, how smart she was, how beautiful, how completely glorious in her element. His large wings cupped the air driving him forward following the golden beacon of his desire. He surged past Kindrith hissing in passing. He avoided the flight path of the bronzes but otherwise paid them no head. They were not worth her attention; surely the queen could see that? The large brown was a bit confused. So few bronzes, Fort flights for queens were never this lacking. Golden Aslath had a right to be angry. Her fury only heightened his resolve and conviction. The bronzes where not worthy of such a prize they had no concept of the majesty that lived in their weyr. Kaaoloth could see her, he could understand. He could sense her rage and desire.
He found an updraft and rode it for a bit, skirting the other chasers, tilting his wings he rolled sideways and righted himself almost purring in contentment. His eyes whirled purple tinged with a little blue. Lust and an abstract feeling of contentment surged through his body. How the brown loved the sky, much better than the horrible ground where he was uncomfortable and awkward. How selfless of Aslath to share her moment of glory with them. He crooned lovingly to her but kept a respectful distance from her great glowing form.
As Aslath rolled Kaaoloth rumbled in appreciation of her maneuver. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Corinth execute his flip, let those bronze fools outdo themselves to impress her. He would get her to notice him through his immense stamina and steadfast resolve. He paced himself carefully using what advantages the wind saw fit to grant him. Leave the showboating to the youngsters surely the queen would notice how strong his wings were. How his scared body broadcasted his immense experience in the field of battle. Let those petty bronze hatchlings try it would be Kaaoloth who shined this day.
Sel’n/Kaaoloth almost hummed in appreciation for the great glowing Queen. He felt his desire surge like a red hot wave through his body. He longed to touch her, to return her affection and attention, but he dare not without her permission. He growled softly, almost lovingly to her. His blue eyes riveted to her graceful dancing form. What a prize she was. These pitiful bronzes did not deserve such a prize. Sel’n/Kaaoloth would treat her as a Queen deserved.
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Post by glamourie on Nov 28, 2008 21:30:56 GMT -5
As Aslath rose in the air, he followed, his large wings beating to carry him upward at an almost perfectly vertical ascent. His surroundings were blocked out from his recognition - there was only Aslath, glowing brighter than the son, and the sky all around him. The only acknowledgment of others being present was subconscious care not to fly into any other dragons... though that was more Ka'rys's influence than his own; in fact, most of Ciceroth's traits in flight were influenced by his rider. The complete lack of acknowledgment toward his competition, though, was all Ciceroth. Just as he'd never understood why Aslath felt threatened by a green, he did not feel threatened by the idea that Aslath had other chasers. He knew his own worth, and she was an intelligent queen. Surely she would recognize that there really was no one who could compare to him at the Weyr. No sense getting riled up over what he felt was obvious.
Upward he went, higher, higher. He was built for flying high, built for rapid rising through the air, and no part of him was intimidated. For a bronze, he was extremely large, almost the same size as Aslath herself. He was built streamline and he used that to his advantage, letting his extra-large wings power him up, up --
When Aslath turned, he watched her, but rather than follow her movements, he flew up higher and leveled out. He twisted into a quick succession of turns, using them to power him forward. His wings were big, and he lost some speed. However, he was higher up, where the air was thinner, and if Aslath started to descend, he'd have the perfect advantage: he'd be able to close his wings and drop like a weight, and his size would be a major benefit. He was keeping some space between the two of them deliberately, though; if Aslath's previous behavior was to be trusted, she would prove herself a worthy challenge with displays of agility reflecting of her smaller size as a queen, and he wasn't going to fly too close and be left in her dust. Let the others make that mistake. He remembered vividly just how quick Aslath could turn - faster than he could, and he prided himself on his fast turns (for a bronze, at least) - and he wasn't about to take such a risk.
Still he remained soundless, following her flight. His spinning finally stilled and Ciceroth spread his wings wide. With the practice that came with flying for Turns, he managed to catch a wind gust to propel him forward and only beat his wings occasionally to keep up. He had no intentions of using up all of his stamina so early, and the longer he could keep up with the air on his side, the more energy he would have to impress her later in the flight - after she'd started to wear herself out. She would surely notice more what bronze could keep up and still have the energy to do twists and turns. He had no doubt that she'd recognize just how impressive he was.
Ka'rys leaned soundlessly against the back wall of his weyr, lost in his own mind. His mind was so far gone that he did not recognize he wasn't standing right next to Aslath. In his eyes, he saw his queen, moving through the sky like a ribbon of light, far enough ahead that he could not touch her, close enough that her glow was like a guiding light to lead him through a silent storm. He rose to his feet, but it wasn't toward Aslath that he moved. Instead, Ka'rys moved around his own weyr, circling the piles of boxes at the center without actually seeing them. To him, all was bright, blue and cloudy: he was lost in the sky, and completely unaware of his location and that he was totally alone. Not that he would have much minded.
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Post by ravenmane on Nov 28, 2008 21:45:53 GMT -5
There was no mistaking the anger in Aslath’s cry. She was greatly annoyed with how few Bronzes had appeared to Chase her Golden hide across the sky. Out of around ten Bronze males, only three had given Chase, including Cyanth, but that also meant he had very few males for competition. Browns and Blues did not count for they were smaller and weaker then the mighty Bronze dragons. Rarely did one Catch a Queen when she Rose, and even then, the clutches they sired were small and not as grand as a Bronze sired clutch. Yes, the Bronze was full of himself, but what male wasn’t when it came to the point. Being the highest ranking male did add to a Bronze’s self-centeredness sometimes. Despite his pleasure about being given less rivals, the Bronze was still annoyed. There would be no sense of accomplishment if he was Chosen for not all of his rivals were present, and of those here, Cyanth was the second oldest male, passed only by a Brown, and the oldest Bronze if his thinking was correct. He snorted with amusement as Corinth and Kaaoloth both displayed their annoyance with Kindrith. The Blue had Chased many tails before, and he was stupid enough to believe he could catch a Queen that was much larger then he. Pathetic Creature.
Cyanth also added his distaste to the rebukes Kindrith had already suffered by swooping close to snap at the Blue’s wings and face. His teeth did not make contact with any blue hide for the Bronze was not crazy enough to wound another dragon even if that dragon was an annoyance. Stop while you are ahead, Blue. There was no mistaking the inflection Cyanth placed on the word ‘Blue’ nor his threatening tone. He would let this Blue misunderstand anything he had said. He pulled away from the male to push himself farther ahead. His purple eyes noted the beautifully perfect barrel roll Aslath performed. Cyanth crooned appreciatively as he pulled his wings close to cork-screw through the air. It was quick, but not as flawless as the Gold’s lovely maneuver, but the male did not want to allow himself to lose altitude. He would not let her slip through his claws again!
Down below, P’nor was standing and staring ahead at the golden woman. Everything about her was perfect from her black hair to her pale blue eyes, but watching her did not satisfy anything. The lust-crazed man wanted to touch her, pull her close and away from his competition even though his mind knew he was not allowed to make any contact. It was wrong, forbidden completely, and it would also lower his chances at gaining her favor… and then the Beauty pulled a Brown close, and a snarl erupted from his throat. How dare that foolish creature step into the spotlight. No Brown, Bronze, or Blue was worthy of the Queen’s attention except Him! Hands clenched into fists as the Bronzerider involuntarily took a step forward to punch out Sel’n’s lights out before he checked himself. Very reluctantly, the man returned to his precious position, but his hands remained ready to connect with the Brown at any point of time. He would not lose!
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Post by Administrator on Nov 28, 2008 23:05:02 GMT -5
Oh, look at her males, doing their little tricks to try and impress her! Aslath was delighted with the efforts of the few chasers she had. Corinth did a funny little flip, and others simply decorated their flight with twists and turns. Even though these sorts of moves were silly, they did say something about how strong the dragon was. It all depended on her mood, she supposed, and today, she liked seeing just what they would do to impress her. She let out a noise that sounded half-purr, half-grunt before aiming herself for another ascent. This one would be much shorter than before, but it would also reach astounding heights, and would shake off the remaining weaklings before she would toy with them some more. She grunted, flicking her tail again before using it as a rutter to help guide her through the cold air. Zipping along, she began to change her course into wild zig-zags, the test of agility. Her tail balanced her out and steered her deftly in her winding route away from her suitors...
Aslath let out a brief, trumpeting blast as another challenge to these boys. Were they still trying to catch up to her, or were they losing the fight for her? Were any weaklings ready to give up? She growled. She was only feeling a mild strain in her wing-joints, but she certainly had enough energy to outlast these slowpokes. Making her zig-zags even tighter, she couldn't deny that it was making even herself dizzy. Because of this, she had to ease to a stop-- with the zig-zags, at least. Bending her wings close to her sides, she did a sort of vertical zig-zah; Aslath went up and down and up and down, quickly going through these wave-motions without a hint of slowing down. Instead, they only seemed to get faster as Aslath continued, and shorter. However, this particular strategy jostled Aslath's stomach too much to a point where she could feel the blood that she had sucked wobbling around inside of her. So she went back to her straight line.
Stretching her wings a bit more, she glided smoothly, trying to catch her breath ever-so-quickly. Her males were far enough behind so that there would be no sneak-attacks on her, so a quick glide would be safe. She could also take advantage of this moment to tease them a little. She crooned tiredly at them, looking behind her and sweeping her body in a way to make sure that they could catch the twinkle of the sun's rays off of her glowing body. She knew that they would want it. It also might restore hope in them, in case she had hurt their pride so much that they would give up willingly. They couldn't resist continuing to Chase a queen like Aslath!
Shmee/Aslath hissed at Sel'n, irritated that he wouldn't touch her back. Pushing him away, she decided that she was done with him (for now, at least). She would find someone new to caress until she decided who it was that she would want. Besides, the woman-dragon thought wickedly, she must keep the morale up for her suitors. Just as Aslath flaunted her glowing body, Shmee/Aslath wickedly approached P'nor, wrapping her arms around his waist and slinking her arms up his shirt. He wanted her, didn't he? Well, he (and the other males) would have to show that to her...
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Post by dragon on Nov 29, 2008 1:27:56 GMT -5
At first Kindrith did really well ... at least, he thought so. All these big, heavy, slow louts. What could they possibly do? It never occured to the perky little blue that he was going to get left behind by those same slow louts later on.
But for now, he was fast, and he was quick, and he was agile ... and oh, bugger. The air was all crowded with those stinking big, slow, lunky dragons. Why wouldn't they just get out of his way?? He couldn't even see the golden queen anymore ... that pretty much ensured that she probably thought he wasn't there anymore.
URG. Time to fix that. Zipping around and between and over and under and through and everything else he could manage, Kindrith sped his way through the pack that had so suddenly formed up around him. And they all stank! Every last one of them was fouling the air up, all smelling like they had been jumping on frightened herdbeasts. Which meant they were covered in more than blood ... they were covered in hair, bits of skin ... and oh,yes. Don't forget the fecal matter that squirts out the other end of the critter, when they get squished like that!
Egh. Putrid. And they expected the Queen to like this?!
Finally breaking free of the pack, where he could see the shining golden Queen again, Kindrith poured on the speed again. He could outspeed even a Queen ... for a short time. But he gave her his all. He worked hard, he flew fast and deft. But it was taking a serious toll on the blue, too. Not as much as it should have - he was a big blue. But he was definitely paying for the speed he was expressing. For now, he was still faster than the bronzes. But she kept climbing ... changing air layers. It was awesome, how she could just go up like that. And Kindrith worked so hard to follow her. But his wings started faltering on him ... this speedy straight flight after having had to dodge all those bronzes and browns...
Slowly, he started losing his speed, until he was barely going faster than the larger dragons. And then he wasn't, anymore. They were gaining on him! NO!!! NO!! Kindrith poured his heart into his wings, and put on one more spurt, trying to catch up to Aslath. And then he was done, wings burning and heart pounding fit to totally rupture his chest.
He was spent. And he knew it.
Kindrith locked his wings, to carry him back down. There was nothing more to give ... he had given his all for the queen, and it hadn't been enough to even see the end of the flight. It was a harsh blow to the little dragon, and it really beat him down. Already losing altitude in a real hurry, Kindrith's only hope now was of a halfway decent landing, rather than a crash. The last spurt had taken everything he'd had.
On the ground, E'yan could feel the emotions flooding from his dragon, and knew that Kindrith's part in the flight was over and done. But ... where was Kindrith going? E'yan had no idea, and was suddenly wondering if he was going to have to enlist another rider and dragon to get him to where his dragon would be holed up for several days until he could fly again.
That would be embarrassing.
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Post by ravenmane on Nov 29, 2008 3:41:28 GMT -5
Cyanth was beginning to feel some strain on his wings, but it wasn’t that much considering his seemingly inexhaustible supply (for now) of energy. Truthfully, the Bronze felt invincible, a dangerous state of mind when it came to the current situation. He was the only one worthy for Aslath; no other male deserved her beautiful self except him, and he was going to prove himself no matter what. Then he noticed Blue Kindrith’s slowing and the signs of weariness. Cyanth snorted with amusement while his eyes flickered red for a moment. Served the pathetic creature right to think he could Catch a Queen. Only Bronzes did with the occasional Brown of course, but mainly the Bronze males flew the Queen. For a moment, though, Cyanth felt a sense of pity for the smaller male. It wasn’t Kindrith’s fault for being a Blue. One thing was certain, he did have courage or was just too stupid to realize when he had bitten off more than he could chew. Land safely, Blue Kindrith. With those strangely kind words, Cyanth directed his attention back to the beautiful Aslath in time to follow her ascending course. His wings kept him Chasing at an even pace more or less. A croon erupted from his mouth, but it was whipped away by the air as Aslath began to zigzag wildly across the sky.
He followed willingly, but his movements did not mirror nor were they as unpredictable as Aslath’s. Cyanth was careful to keep himself colliding with any other males or hurting himself, but the Bronze did put himself out there as much as he could. When the golden beauty challenged her Chasers, his voice was released in a loud bugle. Nothing would ever keep him from answering her Challenge be it larger and more powerful rivals or the Queen’s own fury; Cyanth was determined to Chase until he Caught her or his rider took him away. Either way, the Bronze was completely focused on the glowing figure that was Aslath. An inaudible and faint growl attempted to bubble up in Cyanth’s chest as he followed the Queen in her zigzagging maneuvers. His body nor his stomach appreciated the horrid jostling that occurred from the movements, but the lust-blinded Bronze was too concerned with staying near the Queen to care. Much… His purple whirling eyes closed for a few heartbeats as the male fought to stay oriented enough to Chase. The zigzags had left him dizzy, and when the Gold decided to glide for a small amount of time, Cyanth was grateful. She was resting for a moment until she came up with another challenge, but the Bronze accepted the small reprieve gladly. Then she wiggled flirtatiously and the male could not help but growl with need.
As for P’nor, he was still resisting the urge to physically wound Sel’n for catching Shmee/Aslath’s attention, but the second the female pushed the apparently resistant male away, a small ball of hope clenched in the Bronzerider’s stomach. Which male would the lovely creature choose to play with next? Or would the devilish beauty play with all her males at once? As it was, P’nor could feel his chest tightened at the golden woman began to approach his direction… Would she? Or was there another male near him? Then, he felt her hands reach around his waist, and the rider crooned longingly. A hand reached up with the intention of touching the beautiful face that was before him, but would she although him such a pleasure? Even so, the feeling of skin against skin made his body burn with an unseen fire, and P’nor groaned with longing. Why must she torture him so? It was bad enough not being sure he could touch her, but to know that she could do anything she wanted to him was murderous. How cruel life was! His other hand reached down to his waist, wanting to hold those devilish hands against him while the first hand pulled her head closer.
But the question was, would she let him…
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