Blood and Lust (Aslath's Flight)

[Administrator]

It had been a couple weeks since she had given birth, and Shmee was already in a state of panic. Recently, Aslath's hide had begun to glow, which made Shmee frightened for numerous reasons. One was that she knew she shouldn't have a Flight so soon after giving birth, and another was that S'rei wasn't here. Unless a miracle happened, he wouldn't be here to have Salenth catch Aslath, which would mean she would be forced to have someone else in her furs and take up the Weyrleader role. This thought was positively terrifying-- she would have to face so much physical and emotional pain at once due to this stupid Flight... And, of course, her pregnancy hormones, her fright, and Aslath's proddiness was turning her into a near monster. She was sulking on her couch, with Robika looking down on her firmly. "Shmee, you know I can't leave you right now. I don't want you to drop Shei if Aslath takes to the air," she told the woman.

Shei was cradled in Shmee's arms, sleeping soundly. The babe's hair was dark, but was lighter than what it was at birth only slightly. Miguel was playing with a toy in the center of the room, giggling to himself happily as he played with it. But he went unnoticed by Shmee, who's angry attention was focused on Robika. "Don't tell me what to do. I'm a good mother without you hovering around telling me what to do!" she hissed. Robika flinched. Shmee had never been this sharp with her, and it was hurtful, to say the least. But she had to keep telling herself that it was just Shmee's hormone overload...

"Shmee, I'll help you with this plan, and then you can choose never to speak with me again," Robika said firmly, fervently hoping that Shmee would still be her friend after this. "As soon as Aslath Rises, I'll take Miguel and Shei along with that sack we've got prepacked-- it's got a skin of milk, toys for Miguel, a blanket, and some other things-- up to my weyr, then we'll come back down an hour after the Flight ends, kick the guy out, and carry on with your life," she told the Weyrwoman gently. Shmee clenched her jaw. She didn't want to get mixed up with anyone else as a result of this Flight, or of anything else, ever, ever...

From the weyrledge, Aslath screeched. Shmee froze, her blue eyes wide open as she stared at the entrance to the weyrledge. Robika instantly moved, grabbing Shei into her hold and seizing the sack from beside the couch. "Miguel, let's go!" she said with dangerous firmness.

He looked up from his toy, his blue eyes wide in confusion. "But Mee?" he asked, pointing to his fostermother. "She gets to stay here," Robika replied, jerking her head. "We'll get to ride on Kmarath." The boy squealed, darting out before Robika. Hopefully, Kaegan was out of here-- they had told her to go just when they realized that Aslath was glowing. Well, Kaegan wasn't stupid, of course, so she must be at a hold somewhere or something. Robika also hoped that she resisted the urge to ignore the babes and find Zadari. Queen flights were always so strong.

Shmee, meanwhile, was becoming one with Aslath. She didn't even bother trying to resist the pull, being too weak in mind to do so. She growled simultaneously with Aslath. She wanted her males! Aslath's growl escalated into a bugle as she pushed herself from the weyrledge, rising up to circle the feeding grounds. She descended onto a plump herdbeast. She wanted to eat it, to rip the flesh from the bone! She plunged into the stomach before Shmee's mind-voice struck the queen's mind like a slap.

"BLOOD ONLY! DON'T GORGE!" Shmee screamed, both out loud and in her mind. Aslath hissed, focusing now on the neck. Biting it, she drained the blood from the poor beast's neck, the hot blood running down her throat and covering her snout. She snorted, looking around the feeding ground. The males would have to join her, the males must blood if they even wanted to attempt keeping up with her. She pushed up again, her eyes revolving a violent blood-red with swirls of lusty purple. Diving for another beast, she tried to resist Shmee's commands once again, wanting to eat the entrails from the stomach. But Shmee's shout burned in her mind, and she shrieked, going for the neck once again.

This procedure repeated itself with four more herdbeasts, and each time, Aslath resisted Shmee's shouts less and less. He entire snout was dripping in the blood of herdbeasts by the time she had finished her last one. Looking up, she trumpeted loudly to the males. She would have them! Pushing herself into the air, she bugled triumphantly, challenging the males to just try to rise to her level. She was their queen, and they needed to chase her! If not... they would be the next creatures that she would blood. Lust and violence coursed through her veins, and Shmee, from down below, shared in it. Bring on the males!

[marissa]

Aslath was very obviously ready to fly for the past sevenday. She had been glowing beautifully, as Ermieth had commented to his rider many, many times. Of course, this received no reply other than 'It doesn't matter how beautiful she is, she is the Senior Gold. You shall Catch her'. Eh. Good enough for the bronze, although if it might have been on a different topic, there could have been a rebuke along the lines of, 'Now, who is the bronze here, Mine?' Strange relationship, but a relationship nonetheless.

Still, now is not the time to dissect the relationship between bronze and bronzer. Now was the time to hope for some kind of a relationship between bronze and gold. Sadly, Aslath had been showing Ermieth no favor, as of late. Still, he was a bronze, and he kept his eye on her throughout the sevenday, making sure that he would be ready when she was... to Fly.

Today was obviously the day. It had started extremely early in the morning... it seemed that Ermieth had been waking up this early for awhile, to see if Aslath showed any close signs of Flight. Today is the day, Mine. You need to get up and get ready. I do not know what time it will be when she decides to Fly, but Aslath is ready. You fed me four days ago... I am ready. You need to be ready, for Salenth's is yet to appear. We have an even larger chance of winning. For sure, A'noan was soon as ready as you could be, simply waiting for Aslath to take to the skies, so he could make his way to Shmee's weyr.

Considering Ermieth had woken him so early, there was quite a wait. A'noan had the bronze tell Liassa not to come for their usual lesssons today... which usually consisted of Ermieth glaring at the girl, and asking His why she had to be here... after all, she was a simple girl-candidate, followed by the bronzer trying to teach her some about the care of dragons. After this, there was usually a short fight, followed by which she left, and he went down to the kitchens to get some food. Which was, indeed, much better since she had become A'noan's apprentice. Eh. It worked out alright.

In fact, A'noan was debating whether or not he should get a drudge to bring him some food when he heard Ermieth's surprisingly calm mind-voice. She is awake. She calls for us to blood with her. Go to her room.[/color] The bronzerider was immediately on his feet, heading towards the Werywoman's weyr, as fast as his feet would take him. In fact, he actually passed Robika, travelling to Shmee's weyr, firm in his hope to be the first one there, just as Ermieth was doing. They were the most dedicated, after all.

Ermieth bugled in return to the golden beauty, landing as gracefully on a ledge, scanning the herd for a moment before launching off of it and grabbing hold of the beast by its neck. Goign to a lower ledge, the bronze barely needed his rider's call for him to blood. The bronze still had his wits about him, not totally overwhelmed by the intensity of the Flight... not yet. He only took two more, however, blooding both hungrily, before A'noan forced him to stop. They had been through enough Flights to know that to blood too much would be to over energize... at least, it was for Ermieth, which caused him to be the slightest bit distracted during the Flight.

And, in a Flight, you had to always be there, ready.

[glamourie]

Don't you dare.
I fail to understand why you are so opposed to me chasing any dragon here.
I don't mind you chasing the greens. I wouldn't have minded you chasing Millieth.
You complained when Millieth rose, had us leave.
Well -- the greens?
I am tired of chasing greens.

The argument had spanned off and on for close to three days, when Ka'rys first noticed the glow to Aslath's hide. Ciceroth was very insistant on chasing - a fact which agitated Ka'rys on a purely primal level. Greens were safe. Queens weren't. While he understood most bronzes felt it instinctive to give chase when a queen rose, never had Ka'rys welcomed the idea of Ciceroth doing so. The first time Aslath rose, he was careful to leave Selenitas. The same was true when Millieth rose, and had Paryal and Aezanth survived, the same would be true of them as well. Ka'rys did not embrace the idea of having attention drawn to him in any way and chasing queens was... definitely not discreet. As it was, he liked to pretend most people forgot he was a bronzerider at all, since he held no official rank, and hadn't ever tried to change that. Ambition of a rock? More like a desire for secrecy. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ciceroth was not going to cooperate with Ka'rys's desire to linger in the shadows. He'd flat out refused to leave the Weyr except on official business, and when the bronze put his mind to it, he could be extraordinarily stubborn.

So they argued, dragon and rider, argued until words had last a point and nothing more than a sheer contest of wills took place... but Ciceroth had won; he knew he'd won even when their arguments began. Ka'rys may not have wanted to chase - may not have had any interest in Shmee whatsoever - but Ciceroth was beyond caring. There was a time and a place for his petty behavior. He could be angry later, Ciceroth would accept that, but Aslath would Rise, he would Chase, and Ka'rys would forget his protests soon enough. They were fading away already, along with the individual thoughts.

Ciceroth's eyes whirled as he bugled back to Aslath before sweeping from the end of his weyr's ledge down to the ledges surrounding the hunting areas. Hints of scarlet reached his eyes as he landed, gracefully, well away from Ermieth, and not quite close enough to Aslath to get himself scratched up should she find her space intruded on. His gaze scanned the beasts below before he swooped down to catch one by the neck, then landed back on his ledge. The beast was thrown hard to the ground with a sickening crunch of bones breaking, the ribcage shattering up through its fur and flesh. Warm, sticky blood, hot and tempting, spilled from the herdbeast's belly and Ciceroth lowered his head to blood his kill - but his gaze was on Aslath the entire time, watching, waiting, expecting. The anticipation was exciting in its own way. Any and every regret he'd had was washed away in the rush of sensation.

Unlike his bronze, Ka'rys was not so pleased, even as his feet carried him seemingly of their own will. His hands came up to his face, covering his eyes. The layout of the Weyr was extremely familiar to him, known from the Turns he'd spent there, but the movements were not conscious his. What he saw, his vision and mind, was less and less his own. He was clinging to the semblance of thought he had, desperately, for no matter how fond of Aslath he was (and he did like the Senior Queen despite not speaking to her; her rider was another story), he had no desire to be anywhere near Shmee... and the risk of becoming Weyrleader wasn't one he wanted. Risk, that was what it was. A risk he couldn't afford with things in such a disarray in the north. A risk he couldn't afford with a young firelizard to care for as well. (Where had Ophelie gone...?) Bad Ciceroth, bad Cicer---

--- A second beast was grabbed up greedily and smashed against the ledge in much the same fashion as the first. As soon as he finished with it, he moved to the edge of the ledge, poised to strike. Unlike some dragons, he did not need to be reminded to blood his kills; part of that was fortune on his part, since Ka'rys was literally doing everything in his power to keep him on the ground. The bodies were left on one side of the ledge as Ciceroth moved, a low and primal sound in the middle of his throat like a steady growl less of anger and more of something completely basic filled him.

I'm never going to forgive you ---
I can live with that. Can you?

Any other response Ka'rys might have had was drowned out as Aslath took to the air, and Ciceroth answered with a call of his own before throwing himself from his high perch and into the air. Competition or not, he intended to win. Defying Ka'rys had its price, and he would not settle for failure.

[randi]

The glow radiating from the golden queen's hide had not been unnoticed, surely, by anyone in the Weyr who happened to spot her in the past few days. The fact that Bearinth had been excitable with unusual frequency in the last few days only fueled K'nam's deep unhappiness, only to be matched with the fact that his closest companion was nowhere to be found, with good reason.

Scamp, of course, was not the least bit understanding with Bearinth's unspoken obsession with the near-Rising queen. Images of green things flashed from the mind of the hatchling salamandyr, though they were, for the moment, welcome distractions from Bearinth's too-silent mind. He was ready for the senior queen, whenever she chose to take to the skies.

When he had heard that Kaegan had needed to leave, he had felt the old need to be unrecognized, though he was surely past that point now, swelling in him, demanding that he flee as well. Despite the bronze's adamant rejections to the premise, K'nam knew better. He didn't need to lead anyone, shardit. He had seen, from early on in life, how well that worked out. He could if he needed to, but surely there would be someone better?

It had been Bearinth's insistance that he would be as good a leader as any that had made him stay. He had forgotten, when matters were serious, how persuasive his partner could be. K'nam's head was appropriately buried in his hands, eyes closed, trying to reject the idea of what was soon to be when Aslath's screech shook him to his heart.

At once, Bearinth was ready to answer her challenge, leaping off his own weyrledge, leaving behind a disgruntled blue salamandyr as he soared. He saw no need to inform K'nam of the situation, as he could feel the man rejecting the idea that they had not, as they had before, fled from the radius of the queen's glow. Aslath needed for them to blood as well. As other bronzes launched at the herdbeasts below, Bearinth took the briefest moment to inform His that Aslath's was in her weyr, not the Flightweyrs. Thanking him for that small courtesy, K'nam stood, feeling a deep need rising with a small growl towards the surface as his dragon's eyes began to whirl quick, dark purple.

Bearinth snatched up a herdbeast as the rider made his way, with reluctance and yet longing, to his destination, feeling a growing tug on his mind as Bearinth drained the beast of its blood. As he launched for a second, dropping the other without much thought, Bearinth's calling to his own mind became stronger, forcing K'nam to close his eyes, leaning against the wall. Biting his tongue, he forced himself to stay in his body, though Aslath's challenge as she became airborne again made it so much harder. He could have sworn his own dark eyes would begin showing traces of purple in but a few minutes.

He was urged to continue as Bearinth leapt off his perch, once again letting the drained corpse fall into the herd below as he pumped his wings, ascending slowly towards Aslath. Every muscle was prepared to Chase, strung tightly, making him prepared for anything. She would be his, her golden glory belonging to only the sky and to him! These others were unworthy! He answered her challenge with her challenge with a low hum, confident, sure of himself.

K'nam's own throat seemed to reciprocate the hum, the groan hurting his vocal cords as he looked upon Shmee, his eyes focused on her, almost certain he could see a golden glow about her. Bearinth's pull was too strong, and he before he was lost to the bronze's conciousness, he became aware of a small flicker of agreement becoming a flame within him. They would do fine. Smirking, an expression that rarely passed the often friendly or passive face, K'nam became one with Bearinth, prepared to Chase his gold until she conceded victory unto him.

[ravenmane]

It had been quite obvious for the past sevenday that Aslath would Rise soon, and the unease P’nor was experiencing was growing day by day. Cyanth had become a talkative monster, but the only topics the Bronze chose were about Aslath or what it would be like to be Weyrleader. Due to an extreme dislike for Flights (and at the moment his dragon), P’nor had developed quite a temper, and the man had lashed out at everyone and everything for the last few days especially Athol, Squee, and Cyanth. Since a rather nasty incident the other day, Squee and Athol had been absent from P’nor’s presence. The two had bothered him mental instead with Squee’s obscene commentaries and Athol’s multitude embarrassing pictures. Aslath is looking much brighter today then she did yester— SHUT UP, YOU BRONZE DIMGLOW! I bet a Weyrleader is very stressed like you are! Wherry-Brained, Flit-Intelligent, Smart-Arse, Nosey Monster! Go Between! P’nor snarled at the dragon.

Out on Cyanth’s weyrledge, the Bronze rumbled with laughter, but his chuckling was cut short as a wild screech shot through the air. Cyanth heaved himself to his feet and was in the sky before P’nor could scramble to his feet. I told you she looked brighter! I’m feeding you to the Weyr at the next clutching feast! Don’t worry, Mine! I will win this Beauty! P’nor cradled his head in his hands in despair. “That’s what I’m worried about…” With a great reluctance, P’nor managed to stumble to his feet only to be hit in the gut with a giant ball of lust. The Bronzerider grunted and lurched forward, almost falling on his face in the process. Don’t hurt yourself! I wouldn’t if you resisted Chasing! But…But I can’t! She’s too beautiful! Too Tempting and amazing to resist. I have to Chase…

Cyanth landed heavily in the beast pen and skewered a nice-sized creature on a claw. His teeth locked onto the herdbeast’s throat as vibrant purple eyes sought the glowing Gold hide among all the Bronze. Ah. There She was. The Golden Beauty that was Aslath. There was no denying how beautiful and elegant the Gold appeared despite the fact that her muzzle was bloody and her cries were savage. To the Bronze, the viciousness only declared the power the Queen held. As the steaming hot liquid dripped down his throat, a raging fire of lust grew in Cyanth’s belly. His wings ached to soar, and his very being demanded that he Fly, but until the almighty Aslath leaped into the sky, Cyanth would have to remain earthbound. Quickly snaring another beast in his jaws, Cyanth switched back and forth from growling at his competition and draining the blood from his beast.

[missa]

Resting his head against the floor in boredom, W'liam watched Rinth with all the interest of someone who expected their dragon to do something extremely entertaining any moment, any moment now. He wasn't doing anything, which was a change considering most of the time W'liam had more trouble keeping the bronze still and quiet rather than the other way round. Now, he was just, lying there. It was boring to watch, there was nothing to do since he'd chosen to spend the day with Rinth, expecting constant chatter and getting silence.

"What are you doing?" W'liam raised a brow at Rinth as the bronze tensed slightly, looking out over the weyrledge as though searching for something.
Watching. Waiting. Came the simple reply, very different to the cheerful, playful tone he'd been expecting. In all honesty, he'd expected a whole tirade of what exactly the bronze was doing looking out over the ledge like that. Instead, he got a two word answer.
"Well obviously, I meant what are you watching? What are you waiting for-"

His question broke off as a loud shriek echoed around the weyr, and Rinth rumbled softly, turning his head to look at W'liam,
Aslath rises. She calls us to blood with her, to chase, and that is what I am going to do. With those words to his bonded, Rinth bugled as he took off from his weyr, swooping down to the herdbeasts, grabbing one and making his way back tot he ledges aroudn the feeding grounds, barely needing the command from W'liam before latching his teeth onto the neck.

Another beast grabbed, blooded, and left, the young bronze now watching the golden beauty that was Aslath. Waiting, watching for the moment all the bronze's were crouched waiting for. Then, with her shriek, it came, with her puching herself into the sky. Adding his own vocie to that of the others, Rinth pushed off after her, he could win this.

[Administrator]

Only five bronzes?! This was all!? Surely a magnificent queen like herself deserved all the bronzes on Pern! Growling at her suitors, Aslath made a sharp ascent. Did not even weakling browns dare give chase? Well, she would show them. She would fly so hard that those stupid males would regret not chasing her for the rest of their lives. But for now, she needed to concentrate on the males at hand. Five strong, handsome bronzes. Ermieth, Ciceroth, Bearinth, Cyanth, and Rinth. They would have to work if they wanted to Fly her! Not even Salenth would be able to catch her, but he wasn't here. Her eyes whirled furiously as she pushed her golden body higher and higher at dangerously steep angle. Would she be able to knock them out of the sky this way? She ignored the protest of her wings at going so quickly into such a high altitude. Chances were that the other bronzes would be feeling the same way if she was, which meant she was one step closer to knocking them out! This would be the perfect plan. It was survival of the fittest; while she may tire herself out intentionally now, it would weed out the weaker ones until she was left with only those who could match her ability. Why didn't she think of this before?!

She flicked her tail flirtatiously as she reached the pinnacle of her height, urging them after her. Didn't they want to try harder to try and catch her? Wouldn't they love the chance to be the sire of her clutch? She taunted them with another flick of her glowing tail before sprint-flying straight ahead. She caught a thermal here, and let it carry her further. However, she didn't stop pumping her wings. She needed to drop them all behind her. They would be left in her dust. She wouldn't waste violence on them today; she wouldn't claw them, bite them, or scratch them. Today was about her. This was the first Flight where she could do what she wanted. At her last one, Morsrath was terrorizing her. But not today! These males would be at her mercy today!

When the thermal faded, she dipped a wing so that she was horizontal to the ground. Spinning, she catapulted herself further into the sky in a completely new direction. Pumping her wings harder and harder as she soared further, she caught another thermal. Pleased with this find, she trumpeted. She was the queen of Pern! She ignored the tiredness of her wings for now; she was high, and she was fast. Undoubtedly she would have a fine clutch! Let the males try her now!

[marissa]

Determined to win this Flight, to join with this glowing beauty in the skies, Ermieth didn’t hesitate to imitate Aslath, veering so that he was flying almost vertical angle and beating his wings as hard as he could to keep up. His muscles protested almost immediately, and continued to protest profusely, but the bronze refused to give up. Any other day, any other Flight? The bronze would probably refuse to do such a thing… not because he couldn’t, of course, but because he didn’t want to. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself whenever the greens he used for practice tried to pull a stunt like this one. But now? This was the golden, Senior Queen, Aslath’s Flight. Not only this, but she was a beautiful creature, more lovely than any green, and the only one worthy of Ermieth’s affections. Maybe it was only now, but the bronze was actually beginning to ponder – to take his mind off the searing pain in his wings – if even he was worthy of this lovely beast’s affections.

No, no, what was he thinking? She might be golden, Senior Queen Aslath, but he was Bronze Ermieth of the Rider A’noan. He was amazing in every way, shape, and form. Still, the Senior Queen was such a beautiful creature, and it would be an honor to Catch her, if only because he would become the Queen’s Mate.

But he shouldn’t even be focusing on anything but the prize right now… and such a beautiful prize it was. The bronze barely even registered that he had competition, for he was sure in the fact that he was the best. And if he didn’t care about anyone else, why should Aslath? Unknowingly, he used the gold’s phrase: It was survival of the fittest, in this Flight, and Ermieth was sure that he was the best, the most able, the best choice for the queen. So, of course, the only logical reasoning is that he would be given the opportunity to Catch her… in which, of course, he would do so.

As Aslath flicked her tail, Ermieth beat his wings just a bit harder, his tail twitching in pain as he strained his muscles even more. In a very distant part of his/A’noan’s mind, the bronze heard some protest – probably his rider’s. It was a warning, not to strain too hard. He would get this position no matter what – they were the best, of course. However, like a lot of the time, Ermieth failed to listen to His. This was the golden, lovely prize, and he would stop at nothing to gain the position of her mate, if only it concluded in him joining with her in the skies just this one time, this single time.

Thank Faranth, however, that her climb had finished. The air was thin, and breaths were short, but at least the strain on his wings and body was no longer so great. Of course, it was still there, still very apparent, as he tried to dance in the skies after this lovely jewel. Thankfully, a thermal caught the gold up, and as soon as Ermieth even suspected what is was that Aslath was now in, he mimicked her as closely as possible to catch it, as well… and, thankfully, succeeded. However, he still followed her example in continuing the beat of his wings. No, thank you – being left behind was an option that he didn’t want to examine!!

Sadly, the thermal was soon gone, and with it so was the gold. She had gone… oh! There she was. Aslath had left his direction so quickly that he had missed her actions, leaving Ermieth to dip, spin, and rise once more, beating his wings quickly to catch up once more with the glowing gold. Thankfully – although this time it was simply by chance, not by skill – the bronze caught the same thermal, or at least one close to it… he couldn’t tell, his wings causing him pain, however much he tried to put it out of his mind. At least his eyes were only for Aslath, and no matter how bad the pain was, he wouldn’t let it destroy his chances to win this Flight. Anyways, the pain wasn’t so bad. As long as he focused on his prize, the prize that would soon be his own, the pain was shoved to the back of his mind, almost forgotten. He would win. There was no other option.

((Yes, I actually got this up! I was having such trouble with my internet connection... Hopefully this'll post. I can't get to quick reply, my page isn't loading all the way, so I'm trying it in this little box for the first time.))

[randi]

He refused to wait to watch her next move, bound and determined that he would keep up with her, and that trying to avoid the ascent which Aslath now climbed was completely useless. Bearinth would not avoid following her, through anything she tried to put them through. Thus, he wings pumped after her, his eyes focused on her alone. The other four bronzes were only minor details in his mind, details that he could afford, for the moment, to ignore.

The air grew thinner, his wings crying out in protest, but the bronze pushed them all from his thoughts, his purple whirling eyes focused on the radiant queen before him. It was becoming harder to breathe, and the feeling of tiredness was becoming stronger with every wingbeat, yet he continued on, urged onwards by the flick of her tail. The teasing was like inspiration, beautiful and taunting, fleeting a moment later.

As she darted ahead, Bearinth gave a final pump of his wings, catching the wind that carried her on. The momentary relief as he gave the smallest pause spread quickly through him, a cold wind soothing the hot muscles and inner workings, if only for a moment. Noting that she continued to use her wings, he soon followed suit, having fallen a small bit behind. Yet, his momentum soon caught, his wings beating long, full strokes to make him speed closer to her. When he deemed himself safe enough, he dipped out of the thermal shortly before it died, continuing to fly fast from the speed he had built himself up to.

So, when the golden goddess changed directions completely, it was almost difficult for Bearinth to follow. Twisting himself, making it look like he writhed mid-air, he managed to right himself, though his body screamed protest throughout. However, he could not afford another moment of fleeting relief. Instead, he pushed against the pain, ignoring the screeches his wings gave out as he caught the second wind. At her trumpet, K'nam uttered a low chuckle, a deep rumble leaving the bronze. He crooned in a low tone, continuing to push.

He may be tired, but so long as she Flew, he would pursue. Distantly, a small bit of human logic reminded him of his competitors, but, to him, they mattered not. He continued to follow after her, riding the wind which he so graciously borrowed as it passed her wings. Bearinth dropped slightly out of the wind, contuining below her, concerned only with that which all sources of light should envy and which no shadows would dare touch.

[llew]

(OOC: I¡¯m kinda late joining, sooo this first post is a little behind the current action. XD;; )

- - -

His consciousness blurred, and the bronzerider began to lose himself.

Iron, sweat, anticipation boiled on N¡¯tia¡¯s tongue. Blood trickled down his throat, coating his insides and setting them afire. He dipped his neck to drink in the life pooling at his feet as his stomach tightened with every minute that passed like a century.

It was hard to admit, but he was nervous. For weeks Aslath had glowed, and Kirayuth knew what her sparkling flesh meant. And today was that day of days, the rise of a Queen that would determine whether his prayers would be answered, or if he was to wait turns more.

Kirayuth crushed another herdbeast, and N¡¯tia drank with him. He trembled alone in his weyr, but through the dragon¡¯s eyes he saw the crimson lake stain his feet and the glowing queen standing yards away, filling her belly with the same fuel. Kirayuth hissed softly with a growing hunger for both blood and gold.

When he had waked that morning, N¡¯tia had truly hesitated. Kirayuth had never Chased before, not even a green. Was it absurd to hope that he might catch a Queen on a first try? But he shook the doubts out of his bones. Fly high, he told Kirayuth. He would be Weyrleader. If not now ¨C no, he told himself, it would be now.

Their breathing grew heavier. Neither dragon nor rider needed to speak a word: their hearts beat a single, steady rhythm. Kirayuth continued to blood, and, as if in a trance, N¡¯tia stood and walked.

He had wanted this all his life, nineteen turns full of dreams and patience. He knew what made a Weyrleader, and he was ready. Kirayuth was ready. Was fortune?

Aslath screamed, and burst into the air. N'tia felt a cry bubbling up through his body, erupting as Kirayuth arched his neck and trumpeted his ambitions to the sky. He beat his wings and launched into the air in hot pursuit of the golden glow high above him.

They had been waiting for this moment, the chance to prove their worth. It was a gamble that had to be made.

[llew]

He was late. Two other bronzes had outpaced him while he blooded, and Aslath was but a glimmer in the distance. Pumping his wings furiously, straining every muscle, Kirayuth drove himself higher and higher into the sky. He had never chased before, but it seemed his mind had gone numb with his body as blades of wind cut at his back. Today there was no room for nerves, or for fears of competition.

He was alive. Though his body ached and his lungs heaved to take in the thinning air, he had never before felt this kind of elation. Kirayuth had lost himself to a world bathed in golden light where there was nothing but fly, chase, win. The other dragons melted into the blue, and there was only him and the queen.

He was hurting. Just when he thought his veins would burst, she finally stopped climbing and sped straight ahead. Oh, he could play that game. Ascent was the difficulty, with both gravity and the weight of his body pulling at his wings. Now, it was a matter of endurance, and later, speed. He would save his strength, waiting for fatigue to pluck his rivals from the sky one by one. Then she would be his.

He was gaining. He saw the queen and the two bronze ahead of him shoot forward; a voice in his mind dimly warned him to prepare for the thrust of a thermal. He stiffened his muscles, bracing for an updraft. It hit his wings hard, carrying him higher, and faster. He grunted with strain and satisfaction, and beat and beat and beat. He would not lose so easily.

- - -

N¡¯tia stumbled along the weyr corridors, barely able to see or think as the wind from Kirayuth¡¯s wings tore at his mind. Where was ¨C ? Halls, stairs and stairs. Walking, faster, running. He was going, going to, going. . . he was. . .

He reeled into his destination, a room with five men and a woman ¨C riders, and Shmee, his brain buzzed feebly. An anger churned somewhere inside him. What were they doing here? He knew why. They were rivals, vying for the same prize. But he was here. Kirayuth would not fail. These riders were of no consequence.

[missa]

It seemed to Rinth that the moment after the gold saw them - or perhaps how many were chaing her - she made up her mind to make it as difficult as she could. For herself as well as those chasing. The steep ascent into the skies would tire them all quickly, would just that prove to her which was most worthy? Well, if so, Rinth was just going to have to fly harder wasn't he?

The steep climb wasn't easy on him, and he found his wings very quickly protesting the movement, but he wasn't giving into such a minimal pain. He could prove to Aslath that he was just as good as any of the others, that he could win her over. He could be a good mate. He could be.

She flicked her tail at them, teasing? Or beckoning on? Rinth chose to believe the later, crooning low in his throat to her as he flew forward, determined. She was flying straight now, that was better he could last longer like that. Good. Crooning again, Rinth barely glanced at any of the others, what good would wasting his energy do? None. None at all. He just had to keep following her.

(I'd write more, but there's lightning around and don't want you guys to have to wait anymore. Sorry.)

[glamourie]

As Aslath curved upward, higher into the sky, Ciceroth flared his wings to follow. Higher and higher he climbed in the sky, paying only a minute amount of attention to his competition - but, perhaps, more than most of the other bronzes. Ciceroth, like Ka'rys, was a creature of intense paranoia, and while his focus was near completely captured by the golden beauty rising higher into the sky bright enough to blot out the sun, he was also on his guard. (Typically, Ka'rys was the more paranoid of the two - but at that moment there was no Ka'rys or Ciceroth, but merely a combination; together as one they were, as intensely bound as ever before, and Ka'rys's fear of being caught off guard melted into Ciceroth like water in a crack, barely noticeable on the outside but undeniably there, lurking, beneath the surface.) He was hatched at Fort, and he knew all about war - enough to know that flights were an excellent time to strike an attack for all the dragons were thoroughly distracted. While every other bronze in the sky was doubtlessly as blinded by Aslath's glory as he was, he would not be caught unaware; he would not be taken down for a moment of lapse in security. So he rose, wings spreading and beating, pulling himself higher into the sky after the queen, and he listened. His guard was as down as it would ever be, but he heard, he saw - and he felt. Let the others become so distracted; he was more than the best there, and he was also the smartest. Of that he was completely, utterly sure. Ciceroth was never a creature to doubt his own worth.

Rather than rise as steadily as the other bronzes might have (he was only listening for sounds of any coming close to him; he wasn't actually watching them), Ciceroth used the ascent to pick up an unusual amount of speed. His muscles burned from the pressure of rising so high so quickly, and rather than stop where Aslath did, Ciceroth continued up higher - and higher - until he could barely breath at all... and then he turned to glide, catching a completely different gust of wind that wound under his unusually large wings and kept him aloft above the other dragons, and doubtlessly near the back of the group of bronzes. Being behind the rest gave him the chance to look them over, while using the gliding to 'rest' and regain some of his strength. The higher altitude, though extraordinarily uncomfortable, would make it easier for him to pick up speed again when he descended.

His position at the back of the group gave him an advantage when Aslath turned, and he spun on his wing with a surprising show of agility for his size -- though it was absolutely nothing in comparison to what browns could accomplish, let alone greens and blues, Ciceroth was a large bronze and surprisingly well trained in the air. Turns of combat training had granted him an unusual ability for turning on the split of a second. He never lost sight of the glitter of gold and he followed her, descending rapidly to her level to pick up speed. His size helped, and he finally settled at the same altitude as the queen, moving at at impressive speed as he took to beating his wings rapidly again. Yet he was silent; Ciceroth did not feel the need to make many calls to show his worth. He would outfly the rest by sheer agility and experience in the air, not born from chasing queens, but from fighting dragon-to-dragon. The only competition he was very worried about at all was Ermiath... and Ciceroth did not welcome competition. He was half-tempted to deliberately sabotage the other bronze out of the flight, as was Ka'rys's nature: eliminate those in his way. The only thing that stopped him was the simple, perhaps even arrogant, belief that he could win without cheating. He could, and he would, because he was Ciceroth... and he didn't settle for second best.

[Administrator]

((*wince* Because the clutching is in three days and I'm in exam week, I'm getting this over with...))

Aslath grunted, pushing herself further and further, but the fast, heavy flying was exhausting. She wasn't used to this-- she admitted, she hadn't been flying much since Shmee had returned, nor since Shmee had been abducted... This was straining her muscles. But she couldn't give up, couldn't give up... She needed a big, strong clutch! She chanced a look back at the bronzes. She growled. She couldn't let them win so easily! She regretted not having taken a few practice Flights. How could she be so stupid!? Her eyes began to whirl red. Well, she knew just how she could take out her anger... She fell back slightly, enough to catch up with the laboring bronzes. Not looking at who it was, she struck Kirayuth with her claws, scratching across his back, perhaps deep enough to draw ichor. She hissed at him. It was the bronzes' fault, naturally, that she was so out of shape. They hadn't bothered to come flirt with her to remind her that her Flight was approaching. So now she'd strike back at each of them!

Swerving towards Ermieth, she clawed at his face. She didn't like him, no. He bothered her exceedingly. But she didn't hurt him enough to blind him-- she just sliced enough to maybe get some ichor, like she did with Kirayuth. But even in her lusty rage, she wouldn't harm him terribly. Even if she didn't like him, he was a bronze, and important to the Weyr. She pulled back away from him, not sparing a look at either him or Kirayuth. They weren't worth her gaze. Now, who were the others? Cyanth, Ciceroth, Bearinth... She didn't approve of Bearinth. Was he a queen chaser? She growled. Did he try toying with every queen he saw in Flight?! Fortunately, Millieth had had the sense not to pick him... Dipping back toward him, she struck out again, raking her claws along his back. She wanted them all to suffer, she wanted them to fall out of the sky! She bugled triumphantly. Two left. Two more bronzes to trash.

Lazily circling around Cyanth and Ciceroth, she couldn't feel her rider mimic her aerial moves. Yet Shmee was doing exactly that. The Weyrwoman had fallen into the bronzeriders, striking with her fingernails at the chest. A'noan had the misfortune of having his face fall victim to her nails, which were decently sized. Definitely enough to leave scratches, unless they were somehow lucky. Shmee snarled at them, and turned her attention to P'nor and Ka'rys. They would be next, they would be next...

Aslath slid beneath the remaining bronzes. Angling herself so that she was at an angle to the ground, she struck both her claws towards the bronzes underbellies. Her eyes whirled their purple-red. She was tired, but she needed to keep going. Her wings kept beating against the protesting muscles. It was her duty as queen. She would fly forever, and forever, and forever...

But a freak gust of wind pushed Aslath into the bronzes. Surprised, she screeched, trying to wrench herself away, but it was no use. It was either let one of them catch her, or fall to a certain death. Her wings were beating out of pattern and would not serve her well if she fell at this angle. Snarling, she reached, grabbing Ciceroth towards her, with her claws digging into his hide. So much for trying to destroy the bronzes-- instead, this had ensured her capture! Shmee, simultaneously, grabbed at Ka'rys, letting her nails sink into his arms as she pulled him violently towards her. Her original fears about this Flight had dissipated. Now, it was only the sky, and Ciceroth.

[marissa]

Eh. Ermieth was doing pretty well, if he could say so himself. He had been aware that Aslath was going to Fly… so he was somewhat in shape… somewhat. After all, he had been positive that he would win this Flight, because he was the best… at least, he had been before he started Flying. Now, with the golden jewel in front of him, the bronze was still the best, and he was very aware – but would Aslath realize this? He didn’t know. Especially when the gold fell back with fatigue, and began clawing at one of the bronzes – Kirayuth. Whether or not she drew ichor, Ermieth didn’t care. All he cared about was that there was a very good chance that he could be in the line of fire, next… and there was nothing, nothing at all, he could do about it, if Aslath didn’t like him. He wanted to win this Flight, but there would be nothing he could do if she started clawing at him.

And that was exactly what Aslath was going to do, apparently. Ermieth tried to drop as Aslath came towards him, fully aware of her intentions, but he didn’t quite move from her line of fire. The talons connected straight with his eyes, just deep enough to draw some ichor at the edges. Thankfully, somehow Aslath managed to miss blinding him, and Ermieth pulled away as she did, hissing in pain and anger. The bronze didn’t even care who she might choose – it so obviously wasn’t him, he could find out from his rider once he recooperated. It was a mistake, though, that the gold hadn’t chosen him. He was so obviously the best bronze, and he always would be… but that glowing gold was obviously too much of a romantic female to realize that even if she didn’t necessarily like him, he was what was best for the Weyr. It was as simple as that! Landing on the ground, on the outskirts of the Feeding Grounds (for he had somehow drifted back this way… Ermieth didn’t even know what happened), the bronze lay his head down, and simply waited for A’noan to arrive and dress his wounds. No need for him to bother about it.

A’noan barely even noticed that Shmee had left scratch marks, bleeding in spots, all over his face. All that really registered was that she had acted like a deadglow and not chosen the best bronzepair, and had now left his dragon injured. The rider left the weyr, hissing along with Ermieth his distate, anger, and pain. However, he didn’t even get to leave the flightledge before he had fully regained his senses, looked around, and called for his bronze. If you want me to help you with your wounds, you’d better come to me, Ermieth. I am not walking all the way out there. Sorry – no. Alright, so he sounded spoiled. At this point, the rider did not care.

Fine. I’m coming. Surprisingly submissive, it was true, but Ermieth was truly too tired, too pained, and too hurt in his pride to argue at this point. It was only a few minutes and a few wingbeats before A’noan was astride his dragon, and the goldflight had already come to a close. There was a great amount of lust in the air, and Ermieth was curling with a green as soon as they landed, while A’noan dragged a little drudge to his weyr. He would take care of Ermieth and himself later… now he just needed to get this all off his chest.

{I'm not quite sure how crappy this post is going to be... I've got graduation tomorrow, and I just wanted to get this out there. Sorry!}