Star in the Night [Neisk's Maiden Run]

[randi]

As Neisk, the star, the light, began to speed up, so did Orask, taking his eyes off her to examine their path. The waterfall. If the bronze could have, he would have smirked. For a long time now, he had been too big for the boats of Selenitas, had sunk them the moment they got into the deeper parts of the river. He had been forced to rely on the humid night air and his wings to get him from shore to shore any time he had wanted to cross. He could do this, and do it well for his Queen.

Her leap made a wave of sand crash around him, but the bronze was more focused on the end of the first rock. Oh how beautiful was she in the air that he almost forgot to leap. His hind legs pushed from the rock, his wings flaring to carry him to the next. Each landing and he used his momentum to leap again, gliding further. He slid on the last as he landed, the added speed from the slip allowing him to leap again, met with the spray of Neisk due to his close pursuit. His wings beat against the thick night air to lift him as he landed in the sand, answering her crow with a deep croon. She was doing wonderfully, no lesser Queen could Run like she.

He slowed as he landed, turned towards her, waiting for her to take off again. The dark bronze was ready to follow her in worship once more, back across the rocks if she deemed it so. He had no doubt that she could do it, if she desired. He followed after her in a mimicry of her pace. He could have rushed her then, no doubt, but he would much rather Neisk choose him than to try and force her decision.

Oraru was almost unaware that there were two other people other than he and the golden star in the room. He could feel Orask's fatigue start to eat at him, but he longed to keep pushing, keep Chasing until the beautiful Queen chose and oh how Oraru wanted it to be him.

[irbre]

Neisk watched, amethyst eyes flashing, as the males landed on the far shore, her shore, in turn. Marisk had been the first across, using his wings to aid his leaps so that he landed perfectly on the shore. The leaps had certainly not been a hindrance for him. The next to make it across was Whisk, her brown phantom landing so close to the other male that he had to swear to avoid him. And the more familiar form of Orask followed, landing on the sand with the others. Yet again the chase was on and Neisk surged forward with a crow of exultation and congratulations for her suitors, making them know that she was proud of their capabilities in dealing with the challenge.

While the night air was cool, Neisk was undeniably warm and her racing footsteps brought her closer to the water, paws striking up silvery sprays that splattered against her hide. It was cooler here, and although it wasn't exactly easier to Run, it made for a pleasant change of pace. She allowed her head to twist around to watch them once more, bright eyes following their every movement. Now she was putting more consideration into who she Chose. She allowed her steps to take her back up, into the center of the strip of sand, so that she was before all of them, constantly weaving back and forth, paying favorites to neither, still considering the whole while.

First off, there was the bronze Marisk, who was strong and capable. He was, of course, one of the obvious choices for a Queen to make, both because of his color and age. He was also large, though not horribly bulky, and was one of the more attractive whers, Neisk decided. Tail flicking, she turned her attention to the next one, the only brown who pursued her. Whisk was obviously experienced and determined, not bad traits at all, especially for a gold on her maiden Run. Still, he was a brown, and while Neisk had nothing personal against that specific color of wher, she believed herself worthy of only the best, which generally fell to bronzes, though her phantom was proving himself a worthy definition of the brown wher color. And still there was another bronze, this one familiar and handsome. He was the one she knew from when she had Hatched and thusly the one she was most familiar with, which could be both a plus and a minus. He had proven himself kind enough so far, though for all she knew, that could be a farce. This Run was about the strongest and most worthy, after all, and Neisk placed little stock in feelings and affection. She would make a Clutch for all of wher-kind to be proud of.

It was time for a decision, and Neirin knew it. She leaned away from the safety of her wall until only her fingers brushed the rough stone, drawn closer to the trio before her. One she recognized, two she did not. Still, that didn't matter, for it was her gold her drove her to be here, in the current situation, watching each of the handlers intently. She wove in place, mimicking Neisk's movement, gaze flicking between the handler's just as Neisk's did between her suitors. They were all capable, of course, all worthy, worthy of her golden Neisk, so that meant that they had to be capable of her. Eyes narrowing, Neirin took a step away from the wall, allowing her hands to fall lax to her sides, whole body tensing surely but slowly, waiting patiently for Neisk's imminent decision. It would be soon, she knew, oh so soon.

[ryanne]

Marisk’s hopes heightened as she called back to them, congratulating them. He’d made it across and even though that pesky brown had almost ran him over, he had been the first to the other side. And he wasn’t going to give that position up. No. He was the fastest and the most balanced and he didn’t like being crowded. He resisted the urge to snap at the unknown brown, though, bounding after Neisk instead, crooning at her gently. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, the silver rays reflecting off of her glowing gold hide. She was a true beauty and none other could compare.

With the water flashing around her, the picture was perfected. Cooing his admiration again, he increased his speed, lightly striking the water with each step, his tail trailing behind, making its own ripples through the shallows. The water was cool against his feet, but he barely felt it. He was too intent on watching the wher in front of him, determined to Catch her when she was ready to Choose. He was also careful not to crowd her too much. Even though the end was in sight, instinctively he knew that she would want her space. No one would Choose for her. She was a golden queen and it would be insulting to try and end her Run before she was ready. The clutch would need to be large and healthy and a stunted Run would hurt its prosperity.

So he continued to follow, keeping his distance but still determined to stay in the lead even as his wings ached, folded against his side and his feet began to feel the burn of the exertion. He wasn’t done yet. Marisk was going to see this through until the end.

Mariaki’s eyes widened as Neirin’s gaze floated on to her, lust gleaming through them. She wanted the woman in front of her so much it was almost tangible. Her and her wher’s desire for the pair seemed to float through them, an entity of its own. She made a sound low in her throat as her wher called to Neisk, calling her own queen to her. They were the best and they would show their queen that they were. When Neirin stepped away from the wall, Mariaki took a step as well. There was still plenty of room between them, but it almost hurt for Mariaki, her urge to close it was so strong. She would be patient, though, she would wait for her gold’s Choice.

[randi]

He hadn't a moment for rest. The beautiful star was off again, crowing for them, crowing for him. He had made it across, and though he could feel tiredness nagging at him, Orask wasn't about to give up the Chase, certainly not. His legs began their pace once again, drawing him closer to Neisk.

As she swerved into the water, Orask was immediately in awe of how such a simple thing as the river could make her appear more beautiful than before, as he would have sworn she was as radiant as she could get before her feet got wet. Playfully, the bronze gave a small leap into the water after her, the small wave embracing the air before crashing down behind him. The heat in his feet was relieved by the cool water, though he was aware that it was slowing him down. He wove back up on shore, watching her pattern weaving in front of them all. She would choose right, and he could only hope that was him. He had done well, wouldn't have changed a single step, not even the few times he had slipped.

For a moment, he allowed his attention to be drawn to his competition, not even blinking at the fact that they were older and probably more experienced in this sort of area than he. Did that not, in a sort of way, make him more worthy than they? He had not Chased another female, not even looked at them with the lust he felt for darling Neisk now. He was the best! He was!

She was getting off the wall. That was good. Oraru smiled gently, encouraging her to come out. He wanted her to be comfortable with them, wanted her to be confident in who she chose. She was so lovely, and they all wanted her, all were hers for this moment. Every time her eyes landed on him, he wanted her to step forward to Choose, to Choose him. His heart leapt into his throat with each glance, begging softly in his mind for her to end this torture of nearness and Choose.

[reqqy]

Now she was picking up speed again. Whisk shored up her crow, hoping that somehow it would give him the energy to continue. When he was younger a Run of this length would have been strenous, but he'd probably not be this weary. Oh, beautiful, glorious midnight sun...was she ever to be beyond his reach?

Perhaps. Perhaps. Yet he would still pursue her. He would run until his legs would no longer carry him, until his lungs burst for want of air. To die in pursuit of the gleaming Neisk was to die in bliss. He did not follow her so deep into the water. Whisk stayed off to one side, closer to the bank. The water would tug against them more than it did him, and the brown could only hope that it would even things out a little. His breath pounded - a second heartbeat. Bass to the snare of the thundering heart. For moments at a time, he lost himself to the primal tattoo, forgetting the burning ache in legs and back, in lungs, and simply listening to the hymn his body sung for Neisk the Midnight Sun. She was his goddess, and he, the priest of her temple. The drums pounded. Strained against the fabric of tempo, increasing in fervency. In silence, he worshiped her.

In silence, he offered up his sacrifice.

His legs did not falter, though they quaked beneath him. His stride never broke. Later, there would be time for rest. He spared no energy for the bronzes who, miniature stars, were far outstripped by the glorious beauty of his Neisk. Could she not see that they were merely pale imitations of her glory? He was not so big, nor so strong, but that only meant that he was giving more of himself. Giving everything of himself. The day did not belong to the dawn. It was not the dawn which it could yearn after but never touch. No, it was the night. Day and night, night and day. Light and dark. Brilliance and shadow. This was how it was meant to be. Couldn't she see? Desperation clawed at his throat. It was not the Midnight Sun and her Pale Star that should paint that primal dance. Every sun cast a shadow.

And yet.

And yet how could he blame her? She was divinity, and he merely a priest, doomed to worship whether she smiled or frowned. Doomed to love whether she carressed or demanded he give himself up as a living sacrifice. Who was he to question her? The drums beat harder. Steadily, for now, and that alone told him he had more to give, though his body screamed otherwise. Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep...moving...He crooned to his Midnight Sun, a breathless croon. Where his legs did not falter, the sound came tremulous. Would she despise his weakness? Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Whinny's ramrod posture never softened, throughout the length of the Run. Would not soften until Whisk's resolve was either guttered or drowned in exhaustion. She urged him on, shoring him up with her will, and he continued. How proud she was of her Whisk. How very proud. Blinking, for a moment there she'd slipped and was only seeing whers. Her fingers curled lightly up against her palms. A croon slid from her throat, and she closed her eyes. Yes. It was coming, that moment when Whinny was no longer herself, and she acquiesced with grace. When the pale blues reopened there was nothing of the woman remaining, merely feral, reverent lust. A small tremble took her. Soon, soon, Neisk would choose.

[irbre]

The Run had gone long enough at this point, Neisk's heartbeats finally becoming faster than the strum of each footstep. She was tiring, that much was obvious, though she remained standing still, continuing forward, eyes fixed ahead. Close enough, now, though. Her head twisted to stare once again at her Chasers, examining them each in turn. Bronze and brown, both were shining examples of their color, though Neisk knew that she must make a decision. While her brown phantom was powerful and resilient, she was a Queen, and only deserved the best of bronzes as such. She crooned a soft farewell to him, allowing her steps to take her in front of the two that remained to be choices, inspecting them once again.

She knew who to choose, in the end. They were both worthy of her attention, both of them, but she knew what would be best for her, or at least for her handler. Hopefully, it would be the best choice for her Clutch, but he was a handsome example, having Chased her for so long and against much older suitors. Neisk fell into pace before Orask, trilling softly, eyes gleaming with brilliant amethyst as she inspected him. He was hers, after all, and all thoughts of pity for the bronze Marisk disappeared, replaced only by her desire for Orask. He was hers now, and she was his, so he must move quickly. She called again, more urgently, falling back closer to him, tail held out rigid, wings stretched out, her body twisting, ready to form to him.

This dark knight belonged to her. She knew him more than she knew the others, for he was her clutchbrother, but that mattered little in the muddled bloodlines of whers. He was strong and would sire her a healthy Clutch, or that she was sure. He was handsome and she was beautiful, so they thusly must create beautiful children, healthy wherlets who would add to the nightborne strength of the Weyr. They were better than dragons, after all, able to see when the sun disappeared, while their distant cousins flopped about like blind fish. They were whers, efficient and capable, so much better than any dragon or flitter could ever hope to be.

Neirin moved forward suddenly, sensing the decision, her eyes flicking between the three handlers. Already Neisk was moving and Neirin mimicked her movements, shifting between them all, eyes narrowed and glistening. Almost immediately she put Whinny out of mind, focusing on the last two, just as her Queen did. Two, both bronzehandlers, waiting so intently for her choice. She stepped closer, head tilting slightly to the side, lips parting slowly, her whole body trembling with sudden tension. Then...the decision. Neirin stepped forward without hesitation, towards Oraru, stretching out a slender hand, waiting. Just as with Neiska and Orask, he was hers, and she was his. The others didn't matter, even where they stood, watching, or perhaps they didn't stand there anymore. Neirin wasn't quite sure. All that mattered was Oraru.

[randi]

Orask became aware that Neisk's pace had slowed the slightest bit. She was looking at them again, considering the choice that lay ahead of her. Her dismissal croon caught his head turning to glance slightly at the brown, snorting slightly. He had been deemed unworthy, which meant, he realized rather slowly, that it stood between him and the other bronze. His attention focused intently again on Neisk.

Suddenly, the golden star was moving, moving for him. Her inspection was met with a deep croon, adoring her, praising her for her spectacular performance, for choosing finally the best among her suitors to be hers. Any of the grumpy Orask that might have taken reign had she turned her eyes to the other faded the moment she crooned a second time, encouraging him to act quickly, which he did without a second thought.

Oraru watched Neirin move out towards them, a smile lighting up on his face. She was ready to choose! The dismissal of one would have normally sent him into shifts of impatience, but for now, he was just looking at her, catching her trembles, afraid for a moment that she would turn elsewhere. A pleading whine stirred, moving up to him before he felt and saw the choice. The extension of her hand was met with one of his own, the spark almost driving him insane from need. Neirin was his.