Supernova (Aslath's Flight)

[glamourie]

[ Dragon, I godmoded you a teenie bit. Hope it's okay. I can edit it out if not, but I figured this would give you more to reply to. Plus I figured it'd be funner this way. Also, disclaimer, CICEROTH'S INTERPRETATIONS AREN'T FACT. ]

* * * * * *

For the first time since he rose into the air, Ciceroth noticed the other dragons. With that acknowledgment came a vague sense of understanding; his senses were still clouded by flightlust, but at the same time, he was aware of a blue in between the two bronzes and a brown. A blue he barely recognized in his entranced state, but a blue nonetheless. His curiosity was heightened when said blue suddenly dropped down out of the sky, wings clamped tight to his body. He was higher up and further back, so he could see clearly, and he was puzzled - unbelievably puzzled. Why did two strong bronzes and a brown feel threatened by a mere blue, bold though he clearly was? Why were they (from what he could see) deliberately trying to sabotage him, when he was no real competition for any of them? He was angered, and the temper he drew on was only half his own; some of it was Ka'rys. His eyes rapidly swirled scarlet, a deadly touch of venom that should have been a warning, and he growled. The sound carried over the air, all around him, leaving no doubt to just how angry he was.

The blue seemed to be rapidly dropping in the sky, and Ciceroth snapped his wings shut. It was a bold move and undoubtedly would cost him the flight, but in that moment, he was more focused on making sure that the smaller dragon landed safely. That one movement made him plummet rapidly through the sky, a bronze ribbon swirling downward at alarming speeds. His size and initial speed kept him going, spinning faster and faster toward Kindrith.

"Fools."

That one word was spoken in unison, Ciceroth's private thoughts and Ka'rys's words out loud. The human half of the pair stopped circling his table and stared out blankly over the ledge of his weyr, though all he could see was sky - powdery blue - and Kindrith's plummeting form. He recognized Kindrith and Ka'rys's memories told him they were clutchsiblings. The exact same clutch had hatched them both. Was it any wonder, then, that he felt protective? Though his reasoning had little to do with that: Kindrith was as much dragon as any of them, and it was ridiculous, nay, disgusting that two bronzes felt threatened enough to try and render a blue out of a queen flight. Like he'd ever had a chance to begin with. Punishment for chasing should have been dealt by Aslath, not them. The brown he could at least understand - browns and blues frequently competed for greens - but two bronzes... He longed to go straight for their throats.

He didn't. Ka'rys's movements mimicked Ciceroth's in his own weyr. Each movement was subconscious; he was totally unaware of what he was doing and in that moment, it didn't matter. The cold rage he felt was obvious in his movements, and around him all he saw was air. It was sheer good fortune that his feet carried him over solid stone and not off a weyrledge in the direction of Corinth, Cyanth or Kaaoloth.

Ka'rys-Ciceroth was going to make sure Kindrith was safe, and by Faranth, he would then make them pay. But the priority was making sure that the blue was unharmed, even if he knew that meant incurring Aslath's wrath. Kindrith. Trust me. He didn't add any more to that, but it warned the blue he was fast approaching. As he came close, he grabbed Kindrith and spun backwards, his wings spreading suddenly to break their speed. You will smash your entire body along the ground, descending at that kind of speed, he scolded. And then those fools will have won. Only once he was sure that Kindrith could fly normally did he release him and he flapped his own wings to put a respectable distance between himself and the blue. They don't deserve to win.

Each word and action was mimicked by Ka'rys, midair; it didn't dawn on him that he was alone. As Ciceroth grabbed Kindrith, Ka'rys turned and slipped soundlessly out of his weyr. He couldn't. His mind was completely lost, but he spoke at the same time as his dragon. He circled up through the hallways of the rider weyrs, just as Ciceroth backwinged. It didn't take him long to arrive, though he lurked near the back, and his eyes flicked toward his queen - his glowing gold. If she could abide by that, he would be astounded. They'd nearly killed one of her dragons with their ignorance, intentional or not. It was possible he misunderstood what he saw, but irregardless, none of them had any right whatsoever to deliberately risk harm coming to one of their own. Where did they think they were? Benden? Selenitas dragons didn't act like that. They were better than that. Fools, the three of them, and none deserving of her golden radiance. None.

Rather than wait for a response from Kindrith (they could talk later), Ciceroth rapidly beat his wings, ascending as fast as his long and slender body could. He was pitifully behind the rest, and there was almost no chance of catching up, but he had no intentions of surrender. Not to those three creatures, barely deserving of the name of dragon. His rage gave him strength and he barreled through the sky as fast as he could in the direction that Aslath went. They didn't deserve her. None of them did. Even if he didn't manage to catch her, he fully intended to prove to them that they were lesser. Any dragon who felt threatened by a blue was his inferior. Any and all.

[Administrator]

Aslath had all but forgotten about the blue in the spirit of the Chase. She crooned, she taunted, she flicked her magnificent tail at her collection of males. She was their queen, and they would have to prove themselves if they wanted even the littlest bit of her glory. After the brief moment of gliding, she made a slow arc with her body before plummeting downward in a sharp descent. However, she hadn't made it far before pulling herself up sharply, and flying just as quickly back up to higher altitudes. She predicted she would have enough endurance for a few more of those before making her choice. She knew her males would be absolutely thrilled about that, but she would still have to decide. Hmm... Who would she want to sire her next batch of eggs? It would have to be the strongest male, the very best male. Aslath would accept nothing less than 'best'. But which of these males demonstrated that?

Where did Ciceroth go? She truly hadn't expected him to drop out of her Flight! Sparing a brief look down, she saw his bronze form accompanying Kindrith's blue form to the ground. She didn't know whether to be pleased or angry. Pleased in the fact that he helped out a smaller creature, but angry in the fact that he left her for it. She hissed, before forcing her body even higher. If he were to catch up, he'd have to do it quickly. She wasn't going to go back to pick him to mate with. No, she didn't want to go very far to find her mate! But she needed an outlet for her rage. Yes, yes, Ciceroth had done an honorable thing, but she may have chosen him! He had done well to bear her one queen daughter and a strong clutch, and now, she would have to pick someone else. But first, an anger outlet...

Morendoth. He was only a brown, not worth her time for too much. Hissing, Aslath flipped back (and a literal flip, too, which she was quite proud of) and aimed her claws at Morendoth. Quickly, she slashed at his back. If she had struck him, his back would be a gaping, bloody mess. But if she missed, he would be fine. Either way, the striking motion of her claws sated her. In one smooth motion, she dove again. The wind against her hot hide felt good. But this would be her last dive; if she wanted a good clutch, she'd have to be high. Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of the dive to soar upwards one more time. Soon, she would choose. Yes, very soon...

Shmee/Aslath crooned as she lowered her dark head beneath P'nor's shirt. Kissing his stomach needily, she even paused long enough to make sure one of them left a red mark, signaling that she had been there. However, she wanted to give the other males a taste of her, so she removed herself and pushed him toward the wall. She eyed the rest of her companions thoughtfully. Who now? How about... Ka'rys... looking around, she growled. Where was he? Oh... probably with that stupid blue, and not here. She hissed, angry. Winding her way toward I'fael, she screeched, and aimed a slapping scratch at his face. She was too quick to know if her nails had left marks, but she hoped they did. She backed, looking at her males. Ah, she had left out T'rid. Smiling in a dizzy way, she approached him dangerously. Reaching his face, she touched his jawline lingeringly as she placed her other hand up his shirt and along his side. Would he be able to resist touching her back?

[Avu]

That the other Chasers showed displeasure at the blue's precense, again, offered a most definitely perverse pleasure to the youngest Chaser. At least these others recognized the worth of the queen in the air, that no mere blue would ever, ever be worthy of her, that even an attempt would be to disgrace her. Hmph. The creature would drop out before the others actually took physical measures against him, surely, as Cyanth had so clearly threatened to do by snapping at him? No, perhaps he wouldn't go that far, Corinth thought vaguely, flicking another distasteful glance at the tiny blue. He wasn't worth the energy anyways. Now, if Aslath specifically wanted it, then he would. She was worth the effort. And - what was he doing?

Dropping out! He'd dropped out of the Flight. And - so had Ciceroth? A mild confusion flashed through Corinth's purple, jeweled eyes as the bronze flicked a sideways glance at the older bronze. He was - catching Kindrith. Well, if he wanted to coddle the blue, that was his choice. His loss, not Corinth's; it was Ciceroth who was missing the chance of winning Aslath. And truth be told, Corinth was in no way protesting. If by getting rid of Kindrith they'd gotten rid of one of the three bronzes of the Flight and he, Corinth, was still in it - that was perfectly fine to him, and though it was clear Ciceroth was trying to return to the Flight - could he? He'd dropped so far in order to save that blue.

Following the queen's zig-zag flight pattern, her descent, her ascent, Corinth responded with a croon that was almost - soothing to her hiss. She shouldn't be upset. Yes, Ciceroth was an idiot for leaving, but that was in no way her fault. Her flip had the bronze whipping around, wings flared in order to turn himself around, a pleased hiss of his own emerging as Aslath slashed at Morendoth. Another down...did that mean it was between himself, and Cyanth? No, he supposed, grudgingly, that he had to include Kaaoloth as well, even if he was a mere brown. Dropping his wings against his sides, Corinth's eyes narrowed as he followed the queen's dive, the wind rushing by as he tucked his wings tighter, all but dropping after Aslath.

As she pulled out of it, so, too, did Corinth, his wings snapping open, the wind filling them and stopping his headlong fall, the bronze arching his back to follow the queen in yet another ascent. This, though, pleased him. There was no trickery, no forests and no dangerous drops near the canyon walls where rocks could snag on tender wing - this was just flying. Endurance. And no dragon could fly forever, Aslath included.

T'rid/Corinth couldn't repress the small, satisfied hiss that slipped from him as Shmee/Aslath pushed away the brown, clearly displeased. She had every right to be displeased by him. So unresponsive to her caresses. He ought to be melting. But he hadn't, and now he was paying for it by the lack of attention, wasn't he? The ghost of a smirk flitted across the young bronze's lips, his head inclined as his eyes swept disdainfully over Sel'n/Kaaoloth in something vaguely akin to an ironic acknowledgement at his loss, though there was clearly pleased amusement in that knowledge. T'rid/Corinth's gaze settled on Shmee/Aslath again, the bronze moving restlessly from foot to foot. Why P'nor/Cyanth? But after a while, she moved away from him to - I'fael/Morendoth? No.

She'd slapped at I'fael/Morendoth, and a pleased hiss emerged from the bronze, a mimic of Corinth's, lips curling back in savage amusement. What he'd done to aggravate her - seemed to be nothing at all, but - Ka'rys/Ciceroth definitely deserved to be slapped. All thoughts of scorn towards I'fael/Morendoth and Ka'rys/Ciceroth, though, were lost as she approached - him. Her touch had T'rid/Corinth groaning, the Flightlust growing as he reached up, his hands sliding over hers and curling almost possessively there, hazel eyes trying to catch her gaze as he solemnly drew the hand that had previously been on his jawline to his mouth and pressed his lips softly to her wrist. Some small part of him recognized that he couldn't simply seize her, that was the queen's right to flirt with her suitors.

That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate her, though, did it?

[weaving]

He had held back early on in the flight, not wishing to use up his stamina so early in the flight. Hanging toward the back of the males, he had a clear view of everyone’s movements, though the main focus was always Aslath, the brightly shining light that guided his way. Though he hadn’t originally joined in this flight with the hopes of winning, flightlust had taken over. Aslath was what he wanted. The fact that he was a brown didn’t discourage him in the slightest, not any longer. There were only three bronzes who had bothered to take to the skies and chase this daunting beauty. Surely he was just as good, if not better?

As Aslath descended, Morendoth began inching forward. He didn’t follow her all the way down, and was glad of his foresight. As quickly as Aslath had descended she now rose. She would tire soon, she had to. He could feel his own wings threatening to tighten and complain of overuse. Such flying wasn’t done everyday. He continued moving closer, urging his body faster. Aslath would falter soon enough and he wanted to be the one there waiting for her.

Without warning, his golden beauty flipped backward. Growling, Morendoth was forced to roll to one side in order to avoid razor sharp claws aimed for him. As she passed over him, he felt them brush against his hide, though no pain accompanied it. He had just barely dodged it then. Crooning to Aslath, he was forced to the back of the pack once more. What had he done to offend? Her actions confused him greatly, though he wouldn’t give up yet. Not until Aslath’s final choice was made would he give up.

She dove again but he hung back, afraid that drawing too close would once more spark Aslath’s anger. He crooned out to her, hoping to soothe her anger in that way. Perhaps all was forgiven now? Aslath began to ascend once more and dutifully Morendoth followed. He began climbing forward once more, though was still wary of drawing too close to the queen and her murderous claws. Stupid of him really. How did he expect her to choose him if he was all the way back here? Pushing past his fear, Morendoth surged closer to Aslath, though not close enough to aggravate. Simply close enough to let her know he was still there.

I’fael/Morendoth had somehow, in his mad flightlust, managed to find the flight rooms. His eyes hungrily watched Shmee/Aslath as she moved about between her suitors, flirting with them. Eyes widened as she came toward him, his heart pumping faster. Would she choose him above the others? That hope disappeared as soon as he felt nails digging into his cheek, accompanied by a stinging slap. Clutching at his burning cheek, I’fael/Morendoth stepped back, though his eyes were still fixed on Shmee/Aslath, his gaze confused and hurt. What had he done to deserve this pain?

[dragon]

Kindrith wobbled in his decent, dead tired. And that ground was approaching a lot faster than he had planned on. Oh, but his wings hurt! His very being hurt terribly bad. Only now was he realizing the idiocy of his audacity and gall to join in this particular flight. If he managed to survive the landing at all, it would be a minor miracle. Though one that was liable to ground him for many moons to come.

This was gonna huuuuurrrrrt

And then a voice called out to him - something that he had not been expecting at all, and the surprise of it made him wobble dangerously again as fatiqued, burning muscles twitched. Kindrith. Trust me. That voice ... it sounded so familliar. Who was that? That is was a bronze speaking to him was evident, Kindrith knew that much. But who was it? Trust them? In a flight? Why in the world would he do something as weird as that? But he didn't have much in the way of choice of anything ... he was falling out of the sky awfully fast.

And then the said bronze was on top of him suddenly, and grabbing him. Kindrith panicked. He was already out of the race, didn't they see that? Why was he attacking?! Kindrith squirmed in Ciceroth's hold, but could manage little more than that - he was still falling, and still dead tired.

And then suddenly he was not ... the bronze was catching him? In the middle of a flight? That was quite odd! But Kindrith was grateful even still, cooperating with the bronze in every way he could ...

You will smash your entire body along the ground, descending at that kind of speed the bronze scolded. And then those fools will have won. Only once he was sure that Kindrith could fly normally did he release him and he flapped his own wings to put a respectable distance between himself and the blue. They don't deserve to win. [/i]

Then memory struck, as Kindrith's wings supported him again for a moment. Ciceroth! Kindrith knew him ... had grown up with him. Much grateful to his larger clutch sibling, Kindrith warbled his grattitude. He didn't make any kind of comment in response to anything Ciceroth had said ... it was either fact, or was close enough to not matter. And Kindrith was still concerned with landing safely. He was going slower now, and had a better chance of a softer landing. Thanks to the bronze who had probably just sacrificed every chance he had at winning the flight to save him. That spoke volumes to the blue.

Kindrith wobbled again, after being released by Ciceroth, and then steadied, straining to hold his wings out and open as he glided down. He extended his legs to brace for impact, as he tilted his wings slightly to steer for water. Softer landing ... softer landing. The blue hoped the water was deeper than it looked.

He touched down with a magnificent splash, sending cascades of water up into the air to rain back down in a spectacular display. The water had been deep enough to cushion the impact, but not deep enough to stall all the momentum. Kindrith hit bottom anyway, without ever becoming entirely submerged. His feet hit bottom, braced, and buckled. His body whumped heavily off the silt under the water, clouding the water all around him for quite a distance.

Groaning in agony, Kindrith started crawling for shore. He was alive ... he was intact, and unbroken. But he was going to have some serious bruising all over his legs and belly. Not to mention the strains.

It was a good thing he was already blue, or he would have been quite blue. Flopping down on the beach half out of the pond/wide spot in the river, Kindrith let his head rest on the ground as he huffed for air.

Ouch.


Out in the forest, E'yan grew more and more worried for his dragon as he seemed to not be managing a proper decent. But there was nothing he could do ... not a sharding thing at all. Except climbg to his feet on the log he was sitting on, and watch in mute horror. And then he saw a bronze break from the pack and dive after him. Now that was weird. What was the bronze thinking? E'yan hoped it wasn't to attack the blue for his gall. Fear wrapped its icy hands around the pit of his stomach for his blue - but it wasn't entirely his own, either. Much of what he was feeling was Kindrith's own trepidation.

And then the most miraculous of things ... that bronze caught Kindrith, and helped him both slow and get his wings back under control. E'yan was most grateful for the profound, kindhearted act. He'd have to find out who that dragon was, the next chance he got, as he hopped down off the log and started sprinting through the forest as quickly as he could manage, toward where he had seen the bronze release Kindrith. He was still quite concerned for his dragon, but not as badly as he had been. Now he knew his blue had half a chance of landing alive.

And then the impact and blow Kindrith sustained in landing knocked the air out of E'yan, and sent the man tumbling across the ground as his feet stopped supporting him in his run. E'yan groaned in utter misery, clutching at his own bruised body once he stopped tumbling and rolling, upside-downish against a treetrunk. He felt his dragon's woes, as well as his own, and he was not happy about it in the slightest.

"Kindrith, you IDIOT!" E'yan roared at the woods in general, in pained frustration.

[glamourie]

Faster and faster he ascended, putting as much power behind his wings as he possibly could. Catching up was harder than it looked, and it took a great deal of effort to pick up speed. All of Ciceroth's energy was poured into that one function, his wings moving quickly, putting power behind them. He flew at an angle, rising upward but not sharply, so as to keep from straining his own wings. The worry he felt over Kindrith lingered, heightened by the distant sound of splashing, but he'd done what he could; he'd definitely broken the blue's fall. Short of completely forsaking the flight to make sure he landed safely, there was nothing else he could do to help him. That thought was pushed away as any trepidation he felt vanished. All that remained was the anger and a fierce sense of competitiveness that was fueled by it; before, he hadn't acknowledged the other dragons because they were simply lesser. Their actions reinforced that to him, but in recognizing that he was their superior, he was quite intensely focused on proving it to all of Pern. He would catch up, and he'd show them all that it didn't take trying to sabotage others to win. Cowards.

Barreling forward, Ciceroth soared upward. So what if he wasn't acrobatic; so what if he wasn't showy. What he was, was intelligent, and confident. The disgust he felt for the trio was blatantly obvious in the whirl of his eyes and the lowest growl in the back of his throat that none could hear, given how far back he was. They couldn't possibly understand what a high compliment Kindrith paid Aslath by chasing in a flight he had no chance of winning. They would never understand that every dragon had their worth, even the lesser colors. There was a reason he preferred the company of smaller dragons to other bronzes. They weren't intelligent enough to socialize with.

The wind felt cold and bitter against his hide as he propelled himself forward as fast as he could. He was on the large side for a bronze, but built slender; not necessarily a powerhouse, but lean enough to acquire speed. He had no competition on the smaller dragon colors or even smaller bronzes, but the dedication it took to push forward so quickly from being so far behind was obvious. Each wingbeat brought him closer to his beauty, and he wasn't going to give up just because of a disadvantage. He was not about to let falling behind discourage him.

She turned, and his eyes flared scarlet. That quick flip gave him the time he needed, and as Aslath turned on Morendoth, Ciceroth managed to catch up to the back end of the group of chasers. His place near the back, higher up, was resumed, and the rapid beating of his wings slowed slightly. His golden beauty dove, but he did not follow her with anything but his gaze. She would rise again soon enough, catch air and move higher at rapid speeds, and it would be easier to turn to an ascent from his position than if he followed her every movement. He was not about to waste what stamina he had left with tricks of twists and turns. While he was certain he did not look anywhere near as graceful as some of the others, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make; keeping Kindrith from completely splattering himself was more important to him than looking like a shiny dancer in the sky. The only one worthy of that level of beauty was Aslath, after all, and he would never have dared to challenge her show.

Confusion painted itself over Ka'rys's face as he realized for the first time where he'd gone. He hung near the back of the flight weyr and bowed his head slightly, a few paces away from all who'd arrived. Stone? No, not stone - air, so much air, stinging in his arms from flying too fast and he was at the back. His chin remained tilted downward, though he watched Shmee-Aslath, the glowing queen, with an almost curious intensity. Her focus seemed to shift between the different males, from slashing to twists and turns, diving and rising; he was in no hurry to gain recognition, though. She would notice him eventually. How could she not? There were only three bronzes there, and two of them were foolish enough to feel threatened by a blue. As if dragons so insecure as that would ever be worthy of her.

[Rei]

Kaaoloth followed Aslath diligently watching her perform various maneuvers to highlight her speed, endurance, and agility. What a clever queen to make these bronze ones squirm so. He hummed low and lusty in his throat and mirrored her zig-zag pattern almost perfectly. The aching in his wings was beginning but he wouldn’t let that stop him. The browns endurance was not yet spent. He leveled out and felt the air rush past him as Aslath flipped and lunged viciously at Morendoth. There was neither rhyme nor reason to her attack, but such things happened in queen flights where emotions ran high.

He had noticed the blue Kindrith’s decent and the bronze that followed. He was nothing but a fool to leave the flight and its golden conductor. The blue had deserved whatever fate he earned for his insult. What blue thought so much of himself that he thought he deserved a queen? The senior queen no less. No the Blue was a dim glow, the bronze just as bad for deserting. Ah but now Ciceroth was questing to catch up? Stupid bronze, no matter he would exhaust himself.

The brown could not blame Aslath for her show of anger. Her bronzes had failed to show an insult to such a beauty as Aslath. Her anger only heightened his desire for her. Those bronzes who failed to show were not worthy of such a beautiful Queen. Kaaoloth surged forward to follow the Queen as she climbed higher into the sky. He hummed in appreciation as the sunlight glinted off her golden body. How he desired her. He bugled in response to her challenge. Now was the time! He would give his all for this glorious golden beauty.

There was new energy in his wing beats now. He surged after her one of the forerunners of the pack. He was aware of nothing but golden Aslath she held his complete and undivided attention. He had forgotten the other chasers long ago there was only her. The brown decorated his upward flight with rolls and slight twists to better showcase his immense wings. Humming in appreciation at how high she was. She truly was queen of the sky.

Sel’n/Kaaoloth felt a pang of regret as Aslath roughly pushed him aside. Perhaps he should have returned her attention but he stood by his decision. He snarled his lip uplifted as she flirted with the bronzes. Those creatures did not deserve her attention. Sel’n/Kaaoloth kept his eyes locked on Shmee/Aslath, he absolutely ignored the bronzes she was the only one worth noticing.

[Administrator]

Imperceptibly, Aslath began to slow her pace. It was almost time to decide, yes. She was tired, and she wanted to finally reward the one chaser that she would choose. Even the browns had fought hard for this. Still, Aslath was determined to give them one last bump in the ride. With a tired trumpet, she made another descent. This time, she went lower than she did last time, going much further downward. Still, she was quite far above the tree-tops when she pulled back up in another sharp ascent. She wanted to get back high into the air. At least she had done her last bit of showing off. She had to show Selenitas what a real queen was. Not only a real queen, but the best queen Selenitas had and ever would hope to have. She loved the feeling of having these males willing to lick her feet for a few hours with her. And children... Many, many strong children would come from these Flight.

Aslath leveled off, looking behind her. She had her few choices of males. But which one... She wanted Ciceroth, since he was a good sire, but the idiot was still in the back. She growled, angry. He should never have left her. Yes, it was noble to chase after the silly blue who had fallen, but his attention had been diverted from her for even that brief second. No, she would not choose Ciceroth. Her mate needed to be a bronze that paid attention only to her. Yes, bronze. She wasn't interested in the browns. What she wanted was the bronzes, and a bronze that wasn't Ciceroth. This narrowed her options down considerably: Corinth or Cyanth.

Cyanth was older, but she also knew that he was foolish. He had snapped at the blue. Even though that she was insulted a blue dared Chase, she wasn't a fan of picking on the small to prove strength. No, she found that it was very foolish of Cyanth to do that. This left her one choice...

Crooning, Aslath tiredly let herself fall back. Gracelessly, she plummeted against him, letting him catch her wingjoints. Quickly, she twined her neck and tail with his, nuzzling him lovingly. Her sweet, handsome, strong Corinth. This was the one bronze that would be worth her time on this lovely afternoon. She crooned again. Her bronze.

Shmee/Aslath smiled wickedly as T'rid kissed her wrist. He would be able to kiss more than that now! Without any regard to anyone else in the room, she pressed herself against his body as the hand at his side urgently began to undo his pants. Aslath massive emotions were taking over her mind, and all Shmee/Aslath could think of was the climax of this Flight. Her handsome bronze, and the need to mate... Nothing else was in Shmee's world but this.

[Avu]

Surely, surely the time was drawing near. Corinth could feel the slight twinge in his wing joints, hovering on the borderline between pain and a tingle, merely a warning so far that he could fly only so much farther. He cocked his head slightly as a blur of bronze motion caught his eye, at first thinking that some other ridiculous bronze had just joined the Flight - but no. Ciceroth. Again? Did he never give up? He'd all but dropped out entirely already and - well, he had made up the lost ground efficiently, he supposed, but that still landed him in the rear, behind even the browns. Corinth pressed harder, his wings scooping at the air, tail steering him slightly to one side of Aslath - all the better to make sure he didn't accidentally get tangled with one of the other males.

And yet - Aslath still dove, and Corinth followed, eyes spinning faster as the wind raced over his wings, his streamlined body dropping in altitude, and then - up again. Up, in the open air, where a Flight should be. Not in the stifling depths of the jungle, no - open air, with a lovely, glowing gold ahead of him. No mere green! Yes. This was joy, this was freedom. Faster and faster he pushed himself, trying to stay ahead of the main pack as much as he could, though it was more of an effort than he would have hoped it to be. At least, he thought with a smug flash, Ciceroth remained at the rear - payment, so to speak, for insulting the queen so deeply as to leave her Flight to make sure a lusty blue managed to land - surely he would have without aid? Necessity breeds solution. No dragon would let himself crash headlong without some attempt at slowing down, tired or otherwise. It simply wasn't done to accept death.

The twinge had grown, but the wingbeats did not falter. Stubbornly ignoring the warning, Corinth dropped slightly lower than Aslath, almost instinctively, his eyes tracing over her form intently, and - him! He was Chosen! New strength surged through him as he flared his wings to prepare for the impact, the touch of the golden hide against his sending a wave of sheer ecstasy through the bronze as he caught her gently, spreading his wings, the slight pain forgotten as he stopped their fall, wings straining from the effort - Aslath was larger than he, after all - but the strain forgotten, dismissed in the delight of Flight. He had won!

Chosen! As Corinth and Aslath twined in the skies, so far above, the lust broke through the gentle kiss and the lust was no longer desire, but need. The desire to take her overwhelmed the vague desire to hiss at the rejected males in open defiance, and he dropped his head, claiming her mouth as he steered Shmee/Aslath towards the bed, his breath coming more quickly in his eagerness. Clothing. In his way. A faintly frustrated noise started in the bronze's throat, but that problem was quite easily solved. Cloth was fragile, and the need was strong, after all. The other suitors were forgotten in his urgency.

((And now the Weyr will explode. ^^ Corinth loves ya, Mush.))