Baby, I'm bad news. {Calistoth's Flight}

[reqqy]

It was expected. You couldn't trust a bronze to have a sense of quid pro quo, after all. As far as Jessereth was concerned, Rath had wronged him, and they were still several hurtling herdbeasts away from even. Not that bronzes understood such things. Ridiculously arrogant creatures, and only because of their size. Why they thought being big was so wonderful, anyway, was beyond him. He'd seen a green take down a bronze enough times that it was indelibly engrained in his mind. Color and size really had little to do with ability.

The brown's first instinct was simply to evade and ignore. Calistoth was most important, after all, and if it dissed Rath, all the better. Of course, there was that other thing. Hard to win a Flight if someone decided to slash you to ribbons, after all, and he would like to see a little ichor. In the end, instinct took over. As soon as the displacement of air entered his consciousness he backwinged, rendering the feint somewhat...purposeless. You don't hope someone's just kidding, as a general rule. Even as he dropped behind, he flipped, limbs slashing upward at Rath's underbelly.

They missed by little more than a fraction.

Hard to tell whether that was intentional or if Rath's own evasive maneuver had brought it about, but Jessereth seemed pleased enough with the outcome, sliding down the trailing edge of the loop and into a dive that placed him speeding right through the center of the cluster of chasing blues. The brown didn't wait to see if he'd knocked any off course, though he hoped he had! Jessereth wanted to see Rath bleed, and he'd take any opportunity presented to him, but wouldn't it be much more delicious if he simply won Calistoth? The brown put every bit of his energy into that endeavor.

Quid pro quo.

The young dragon knew better than to attempt that slick little manuever of his brilliant Calistoth. In fact, he was quite certain that she did it just to see who would crash and burn, because that was certainly what he would have done! Ahead of the main pack of blues - save for the sickly one brave (or foolish) enough to attempt it - Jessereth pulled up above the treetops, looping down through the two lonely tress, wings held tight to his sides. He'd like to see Rath do that. Then, just because the blues might be following - or Rath, if the bronze was stupid enough to try the impossible - Jessereth whipped his tail as he passed between the trees, showering branches and leaves everywhere in the hopes that it would throw at least one of his rivals off or take him out of the chase permanently.

This eliminated the need to reduce his speed any further with a turn, Jessereth pursuing Calistoth directly. He climbed with a few powerful strokes of his overlong wings - wings that would have carried half the bronzes at Selenitas with ease - and dipped low, lower than even Calistoth so that his wings sent water flying up behind the green in leaping geysers with every wingstroke. Just to see if he could blind a rival, really. Jessereth so loved the idea of some hapless blue taking a faceplant into the canyon wall. Or Rath, for that matter, but the bronze was probably not so easily gotten rid of.

Insects never were.

[Avu]

Fighting. Fighting! Fighting was not good. Corinth veered on one wing, torn between following Calistoth and breaking up the fight. The lust won over and he banked on the opposite wing, righting his flight pattern and taking care to swerve a good distance away from Rath and Jessereth. Tsk, tsk - did they really expect to be able to fight with each other and keep up with Calistoth at the same time? If they could, well - that would be surprising, no? The bronze shook his head slightly, brief anxiety pervading the purple shades swirling on the jeweled eyes, only to be covered again by deep, brilliant purples and blues. This was Calistoth's Flight. Not a battlefield, no...but if they wanted to fight, risking displeasure from their queen and being left behind by the others, it was their call. He dismissed the pair almost scornfully, concentrating on streamlining his body, keeping his head low, his wings slicing through the air, carrying his lithe form forwards.

He rarely flew slowly, but neither did he usually fly this fast unless His specifically asked him to - this was thrilling, this was like walking the edge, and he loved the feeling. The fact that this was a Flight, with Calistoth so elusively ahead of him - it only heightened the energized thrill. Was she surveying her Chasers? Corinth flipped his wings slightly, the movement sending him higher, arching his neck. See his prettiness, yes? Except - she snarled. Whether or not the snarl was directed at him was impossible to say, although the bronze got the feeling it was; he fell back, flaring his wings, a soft croon of dismayed apology rising from his throat as he followed her, pushing himself to keep up with her speeds.

The trees - they were no good, but they were thinning. Corinth remembered - trees are pain. No trees. Trees weren't good - but he still would have seriously considered going into the trees had Calistoth initiated it - but she didn't. Oh, lovely Calistoth. That was good. Thank you, Calistoth! He didn't actually address her to say such a thing, but the gratitude was felt. His wings would take dire punishment in the trees, as last time had proved, and she hadn't -

She had. He flicked the tip of his tail, studying the setup of her maneuver, but he fell back slightly, letting Enouth take the first attempt. As he was blown sideways, Corinth couldn't repress a slight, amused rumble as he flew skywards, avoiding the trees as he reversed directions in a flip, folding his wings as he arched his body into a circle, his tailtip flicking briefly in sight of his eyes before disappearing again. He fell - it was to be expected - and he briefly left himself drop before he caught himself on his wings. Not too close to the trees; he'd had quite enough experience with trees not to want anymore. He was showing off for Calistoth, no?

Jessereth and Enouth had taken possession of the river, so Corinth had to content himself for following in the sky. If two dragons had already displayed their prowess near the water, surely there was no need for him to, as well?


Snarl. Oops. The bronze hadn't thought he'd approached that closely, but greens were to be respected anyways, no? He dipped his head, crooning apologetically - something he found himself doing quite a lot - and took a step back, spreading his hands in a peaceful sign that came naturally. The croon twined with the one that Corinth uttered, his low, rougher voice melding with the softer, caressing tone that his other half spoke in. He was quite ready to drop down and beg to be Chosen, but his green - she was leaving? No! No. That was not right, he should stay, where he could be admired - leaving wasn't allowed. It wasn't right. The bronze followed instinctively, padding silently after the green, his eyes fixed on the green's form.

[glamourie]

Along the river she flew, wings beating frantically as her gaze whirled scarlet. Behind her she could hear movement in the trees and she lowered herself closer to the water, flying so that her wings brushed the surface with each stroke. Little sprays of water kicked up around her wings, creating a spray of light through droplets, iridescent and highlighted against her glowing hide. She dared a look behind her through the flaring of the waves against the motion of the river (she was moving above the current in the opposite direction) to see who was the first to meet her challenge. She was rewarded with what struck her as a comical sight and a malicious rumble rattled in her chest. So he'd dared to follow her through the trees, had he? But the river got him, that stranger. Pretty blue, even prettier as he was thrown into the jungle. Her eyes whirled wickedly, and to say that she was delighted would have been an understatement. It wasn't personal against him. She wanted to test them, make them prove themselves against her, her perfect grace in the sky. None would be deserving of she, but that did not mean that she would not pick the one who amused her the most. Half the enjoyment she garnered from flights was seeing who managed to survive her obstacle courses and really, she was only getting started.

He wasn't the only daring one, though; she could see Jessereth's quick movements through the tree tops and was privately impressed. Few browns would have dared what she'd done, and it was clear from Corinth's movements that he had no intentions of trying such maneuvers. Silly bronze; if he intended to keep up, he would have to be more daring. She rumbled, then lowered closer, closer to the water, only to propel her tail in a quick lash that sent a large wave of water up behind her, directly at the two following her path the closest. Surprise, boys.

Rather than wait and see the responses of any of her suitors to her trick, Calistoth zoomed further, further ahead, until the waterfall came into view. Her wings beat faster, picking up speed, and she looked for all the world as if she intended to fly directly into it. Only at the last possible moment did she veer up in an almost perfectly vertical ascent, in the process losing some of her hard-earned speed and spraying more water from the crashing falls around her. Higher and higher - only to fall against her wings and turn, quickly, a green's natural agility coming to her aid. That quick bend put her upside down and gliding over head and backwards, the exact way she came, but she righted herself quickly enough. The burning in her wings told her that her stamina was almost up, but still she frantically beat her wings, following the current of the river without looking back. If they intended to catch her, the most magnificent of all the greens, they would have to prove they could turn as quickly as she could. Quite the task for those who were flying at their fastest, but any who failed were undeserving.

She hoped one of them flew straight into the falls. It would serve them right. But despite her darker desires, some part of her also longed for them to continue, and she flicked her tail suggestively behind her as she moved ahead, rapidly ascending again, back away from the Weyr.

Silently aware of their following, K'lir did not speak to his two pretties; words were lost. Enouth and Corinth followed. But he'd lost some of his chasers. He arrived at Rath's weyr to find it empty and cocked his head to the side before backing up. His face was a rapid display of confusion as he stumbled into the entrance... then snarled. Not there? Hiding from him? He was to be chased, not ignored. Stomping over to the shelves, K'lir blindly shoved his hands over each individual one, with no heed for possible breakables. Anything on them hit the ground with a shatter. Rather than wait for a response, however, he turned and ran out of the weyr, down the hallway as fast as he could go. He wanted to break things, destroy things, make them hurt. And he wanted to punish Rath, Jessereth and Thoth for not being there. But more importantly than all of that, he wanted to be chased - they would have to catch him. His feet carried him through the hallways as though he owned the place and he found the stairs leading out to the drumheights. Water - water was needed. He was wet, dripping, but dry - that made no sense. He wanted water and he wanted his missing chasers.

He'd break their faces when he found them. There was no excuse for him to be looking for them. Jessereth, Rath and Thoth all would pay for their rudeness. They would. His fingers tightened, clenching in his palms as he ascended the stairs, up and out of the rider weyrs - out into public, where anyone could see him. If he'd been aware, he probably would have been embarrassed by that, but the anger and confusion he felt was rapidly taking away what little self-control he possessed...

[missa]

Trees, challenges. If a dragon could have smiled, Thoth would have been smirking or beaming, one of the two. These challenges were the one's he adored, the struggles that Calistoth made normal, made look easy. Perhaps it was good that he'd been built for these sorts of sharp turns and climbs, for he was quite happy to weave amoung the trees after her, trilling lightly with a dark look at the other blue. He did not like that stupid blue, he was trying to steal his Calistoth, even if his glorious Calistoth was very angry with him, he was determined to try and fix it.

The way the blue clipped hte leaves made Thoth give a smug little rumble, sniffing at him before focusing on Calistoth. Stupid creature, thinking he could out do Calistoth, Thoth could do his tricks too, he just wasn't going to try it so close to trees. Sheesh, who would? He did add in his own flip as she flew towards the river though, clear of trees and all. See Calistoth? He wanted to be a good boy now.

He was willing enough to fly close to the water, but careful to keep and eye on his lovely green. He knew Calistoth, and he knew, sooner or later she'd throw another obstacle in their path, no matter how long it took. It was going to happen. And he'd been right, swerving to the side from the wave, Thoth was glad he hadn't tried to push past the others, he would now though, he'd strive to prove to Calistoth that though he'd made mistakes he could be a good dragon, he'd never upset her again if he could help it. No, scratch that, he'd never hurt her again full stop.

She headed for the falls then, and Thoth would have guessed that she hoped they'd fly into them. Knowing Calisoth, she'd veer away at the last moment, his clever little green. He hadn't expected her to turn vertically though, not that Thoth let himself hesitate, this was stuff he was good at, it would hurt when he woke, but if it was next to Calistoth, then he was more than happy to take any sort of lashing. Bring it on indeed.

Though he wasn't as comfortable falling back after her, Thoth wasn't about to voice this, only crooning lovingly to her as he forced his body to follow her every twist as fast as he could possibly make it. He didn't think the bronzes had a chance, his only real competition was the blue, and Thoth was sure he could outfly him. Of course he could, yes something like that. He'd fly as long as she did, and that suggestive flick of her tail only encouraged him further, to put on extra speed for her. Only for her.

[reqqy]

In a moment of obstinance, Jessereth simply piled on the speed, powering through the wave. It rocked him a little, but he was a strong enough creature - and it was a familiar enough sensation - that he merely used it to put himself ahead of that sickly blue, lashing out with his own tail in an attempt to clip the little pest. That any such weak creature would think himself worthy of any green's slightest attention was ludicrous, much less Calistoth's.

He'd been expecting, at any moment, for that imposter to make another pass at him - fully intending to make sure to take Rath out of the Flight for good this time. But the bronze was clearly a coward. Jessereth didn't know whether to be disappointed or pleased that his slash at the stupid male's underbelly had frightened him off. He settled for pursuing Calistoth as closely as he was able and giving the rest of the suitors plenty of things to worry about. That was what he was best at, after all.

Another blue pulled ahead of him, Jessereth snapping at the male's tail, which whipped just out of reach. As Calistoth came closer to the waterfall, Jessereth suddenly pulled out of the river, turning tightly - for a brown of his size, at any rate - and shooting upwards, eyeing Thoth contemplatively. Calistoth would have to turn...straight up the waterfall! He huffed. Evil, canny beast. He released his frustration with a tight roll, powering upwards so as not to be left behind. There was the chance she wouldn't take off over the falls and deeper into the jungles, but he would not lose her to any of these other males. She was his, he'd decided. Even if she didn't know it yet. No, Jessereth couldn't match her glorious maliciousness, but he was the only one who came close. None of these others so much as deserved a glance from her. Especially not the coward.

The brown slashed downward, a little ahead and to the side of Calistoth's position. Oh, he wasn't about to be ignored. If Calistoth's former mate was too stupid to realize that Jessereth was a threat, the brown would simply remind him. The green passed him by at top speed, and the young brown slid lithely into his proper place directly behind her, slashing at Thoth's exposed back as he passed over the blue. Then he twisted to one side, working his great wings at a feverish pace. Just let anyone try to get in front of him again. There were none so deliciously, beautifully evil as Calistoth, and he wanted her for himself. Just let them try.

He whirled upwards. He liked up. Up meant those blues were slower than him for a moment. Jessereth twisted again with devilish delight, though he gave over little extra time to silly frills. Couldn't allow them the chance to outpace him. No indeed.

[Avu]

Corinth was considering flying lower to the water as several of his competition were - something he was glad he didn't do when Calistoth sprayed water upwards; he had inadvertantly been dropping lower in flight - but still, he was not quite low enough to get hit by the water. A fine mist of liquid wet his neck and shoulders, adding an extra sheen to his hide - but he liked that. It was soothing, and it made him sparkle even more. He veered, dipping lower, skimming along the clear bank, tilting one wingtip into the water, icy water spurting up behind him as he righted himself a second later, rising slightly higher. The bronze raised his eyes briefly, scanning the fast-approaching waterfall as it came into view - Calistoth. She was flying faster...directly at the waterfall. Her only option, if her suitors were fanned out behind her - would be to go up, down, or through it. Corinth seriously doubted she would go through it, even as he automatically picked up speed too...

Faster. The wind was singing through his wings as he raced the wind, along with the competitors, for possession of the lovely green dancing ahead of him, neck outstretched, swaying to her motions as he kept back slightly. It would do no good to expect her to go up the falls, only to have her go down, and be engulfed himself in the falls. It was better to let her go ahead, see which way she would turn, and have a better chance of making the turn without the falls swallowing him. If he was caught by the roaring waters, it would take much effort to pull out...which meant automatic failure. That would not do - such a prize as Calistoth was not one easily found at just any time, at any place; Corinth was hardly going to let such a lovely green just slip away from him due to sheer, unchecked enthusiasm and idiocy.

The falls loomed ahead, the misty spray cool against Corinth's hide as he stuck to the path that Calistoth chose. Up. Up or down? Which way...? And up it was. Corinth threw back his wings, checking his speed deftly as he swung his hind legs and tail forewards - it was an awkward movement, but one that allowed him to get much closer to the falls than otherwise would have been possible as he was momentarily forming a half-circle, and then he threw his neck and head back, whirling eyes fixing themselves on Calistoth again, and followed her vertical ascent. And then - gone again! Corinth almost growled in frustration. He would have, too, had the lure of the green not been so strong to him. The bronze spun, wings twirling around him as he dropped before he could flare out his wings, stopping his fall, before plunging after Calistoth again. River. The river again...she seemed to very much like the river, yes?

The river was good...Corinth crooned, smugly pleased with himself, and also with Calistoth. Trust Calistoth to choose the hardest path, the most difficult of obstacles...! Yes, he was quite certain. Only Calistoth could make up this course for her Flight. Such a long, lovely Flight, too...the bronze pushed forward, dropping slightly below and behind Calistoth and to the side. Peripheral views did wonders, did they not? He was determined to be acknowledged, determined to be seen at the very least, his existance known by his lovely dancing green.

Where were they going? The bronze still followed, his steps quick with anxiety to keep up with the green ahead of him. Why was s/he going? ...surely nothing was wrong...? He was aware only of what happened in the skies - that some of K'lir's suitors were not there didn't bother him. He knew only that Calistoth had six males to choose from, and he was one of them. A Weyr. Rath's place! Why Rath's place? He didn't deserve it...the younger bronze bared his teeth in silent envy. Why not his Weyr? He would love to have Calistoth come to his Weyr. And clearly, Rath did not recognize the honor...he skulked silently at the door, watching through lust-filled eyes as Calistoth pushed through the shelves. Searching.

Running. Running...whirling instinctively after Calistoth, T'rid/Corinth ran, too. Only the glowing green ahead of him, and how fast his own feet could propel him forwards, was known to him; nothing else mattered for time being. Hehadtobechosen. Stairs. Stairs? He stumbled over the first few before he managed to make his legs move the way he wanted them to, speeding up and out of the Weyrs, following Calistoth blindly. Public...did it matter? No other person mattered but Calistoth. What did he care what they thought? Nothing. They were nothing.

[neeuqtar]

He had been ATTACKED. Truly attacked, not the warning shot he had favored Jessereth with. It infuriated him. Rath pulled back slightly, not bothering to duck between the trees. He was clearly too big; instead, the bronze whipped to the side, slashing the trunk with still-sharpened talons as he passed. Shrapnel flew from the trunk; marks of his rage gouged in bark and living wood rather than in Jessereth's flesh. His was holding him back!

Rath snarled, and powered forward, twisting through the air in a sidewinding motion. Jessereth. He wanted the brown's ichor to stain his talons, to mark his hide. To the waterfall; he knew this place. Had practiced here. The bronze made to slam into waterfall, flipping wings back and tic-tac'ing through the waterfall, powerful muscle of his hind legs not only stopping his motion, but launching him up momentarily against the spray of the massive fall, then through and slightly back to return to the Chase.

The spray flew through the air as he flew, water flying from his glistening wings and form, the pure liquid tracing his scars in silver and gleaming wetness. He followed her along the river, and up, always up. Just behind Jessereth now. He bared his fangs in delight, then surged forwards, snapping at Jessereth's tail in a move which had robbed him of the last meter of his Turns ago, if only he had remembered. Then up with the power in wings larger than the browns, to slash at the brown's wings.

This time with the intent to destroy them.

Calistoth would be HIS!

[glamourie]

Hmm. Were they going to fight? That was Calistoth's mindset as she watched Thoth follow her movements. Privately she was impressed, but only a little; she'd expected him to be able to follow her, be it through the jungle, over the water, or straight to the red star. It was expected of him. Thoth and his blind devotion were something she could count on and if he ever failed her she would rip him to shreds. She was less impressed by him, therefore, than she was by the rest of her chasers. Jessereth's quick turn after her had her attention and she watched him over her shoulder, looking back just in time to see him slash out at Thoth. Part of her was irritated - and part of her was immensely pleased. She was still very angry with Thoth. Not that he'd done anything to really merit it, but that did not stop her from being blindly furious. Calistoth was never a very fair judge and the more angry she became, the less logical she was. Time made it worse and everything happening so close to her flight did not help at all. Thoth's had made hers upset; she could still feel the lingering feelings of hurt. He was not worthy. He could try to impress her all he wanted, but he had a lot of groveling to do to get back in her good graces. She snarled loud enough to be heard even over the falls. All of her chasers would know her anger.

Up, up, further, faster, harder. She growled, wings beating faster to propel her upward into the air at an angle, fast ascending toward the clouds. Altitude. Altitude and speed were needed. Stinging in her wings and chest told her she was going to be pushing herself harder than she was used to - harder than she should have - but she did not care. She would not choose before she reached the clouds, so high above the Weyr as to be little more than a glimmering slash of green, a bolt like eerie lightning moving faster and faster through the sky. But - a glitter of bronze caught her attention. Corinth, not Rath. Corinth who had followed over the trees, but his positioning redeemed him some. So... the bronzie had made it through her obstacle course. That in itself was impressive. Very few bronzes could keep up through her maze of tortures. He hadn't followed each one but he kept up just the same. That made him better in her eyes, but his croon had her eyes whirling dangerously fast...

K'lir stopped at the top of the drumheights, looked around for a moment... and then spun on his heel before running right back down the stairs, in a near perfect mimicry of Calistoth's sudden turn near the waterfall. Rather than wait up, he ran through the hallways, all thoughts of water forgotten. The part of him that was distinctly K'lir was vindictive; the part of him merged with Calistoth wanted speed, to outrun her chasers, make them fall back in exhaustion. He snarled, retracing his own steps as his expression twisted into one of irritation. Anger. Three of his chasers were missing and they would pay. His fingers curled under the bottom of his tunic and pulled it off as he ran, and he threw it back, not caring which of his suitors may well have been smacked in the face with the garment. His footsteps carried him back to R'non's weyr and he jumped over the debris of the mess he'd made earlier, each movement surprisingly graceful. There were some advantages to being particularly small for a male, and an unusual agility was one of them. Calistoth was not the only one with quick twists and turns.

"Unworthy."

That single word was snarled with such a level of irritation that it was clear that at least the land-bound of the pair had decided that Rath was not for him. Not that he was there. Oh, he would pay, he would pay in blood. He could see his claws raking down bronze hide, green ichor spilling forward and --

Hers. How dare he. That thought was the only thing that passed through Calistoth's mind as she took a glance back and saw Rath move toward Jessereth. Her eyes whirled red and she snapped her wings, turning her entire body with one quick movement. Her anger showed clearly in her movements as she flew backwards, straight through the crowd. She blitzed past Corinth with a low croon, recognizing him only for a brief second (and that recognition kept him safe), and past Thoth with a slash toward the blue's flank (deliberately aimed to be anything but lethal; she liked him too much to truly hurt him). Backwards, back, she whipped around the sickly blue who was blown away by the river (as if he deserved one such as her!) and half-collided with the only brown in her flight. Her claws caught him roughly and slammed them both just out of Rath's reach, doubtlessly enough to hurt, but it kept the bronze's swipe from being too dangerous. Only after she'd latched onto Jessereth did she recognize that her own strength was gone, but a cold fury blazed behind her eyes. Rath was entertaining but he wasn't there. He was unworthy. He'd never even so much as acknowledged her before. As if she'd settle for that.

Not that Jessereth was there, either. K'lir whined low in the back of his throat and looked around in confusion. Where was his brown? How could be caught without him? He crinkled up his nose in confusion before his gaze fell on T'rid and he yanked the bronzerider over to him. He'd been there all along, hadn't he? Like Jessereth had. In that moment, he was confused enough to believe the bronzerider he was latching onto was his brown, and his fingers yanked underneath the bottom of T'rid's shirt, pulling him closer. His brown, and he would not share. Were he consciously aware, he would probably have found it highly entertaining that in the process he was dragging T'rid back toward R'non's furs; as it was, his mind was completely blind with flightlust, and in that moment, T'rid was possibly the most lovely creature he'd ever seen.

[reqqy]

He was genuinely caught off-guard when a sharp pain flared down a good portion of his tail, fangs stripping the hide nearly to the bone for a good six or so feet. Rath! He should have known that the coward would flee, then attack him from behind like this. Jessereth snarled his rage, immediately twisting, aware that if he didn't move fast catching Calistoth was going to be the least of his concerns. Sharding coward. Part of him delighted, though, at the excuse to tear Rath apart.

Whether or not his reaction would have been enough to save him became a moot point when the dragon collided with him. Jessereth let out a sharp cry, almost forgetting himself at that moment. For a second, he'd been back in the northern skies, fighting for his life. Fortunately, he recognized Calistoth in short order, the flare of irritation at the green's interruption immediately overtaken by triumph. So she'd caught him. It was a little backwards, but that meant that he won - and Rath didn't.

He'd won the evil vixen. It was right. It was proper. And, ignoring the ichor streaming from the end of his tail, ignoring the pain and the nearly overwhelming desire to make Rath pay, he settled for a better vengeance. Jessereth growled quietly, adjusting his prize that he might bear her easier beneath his great wings. Some might argue they were her wings, seeing as how it was likely he wouldn't have the use of them at all were it not for her. Some. Jess, of course, was quite certain he could have taken Rath.

He settled for the better vengeance. Jessereth twined with Calistoth, leaving Rath to nothing but the bronze's cowardly anger.

[Avu]

Up. They were going up again. Corinth angled his wings, pulling himself upwards as well, following Calistoth as she she shot towards the clouds. The ground spun away, a distant memory, the Weyr growing smaller as the bronze pushed himself harder, trying to remain in that same spot, where Calistoth could see him if she so desired. It was difficult; it would be easier to follow in a different spot, where thermals might be willing to push him up faster, but this was his spot. He liked it; he wanted Calistoth to see him easily, while still being near her and behind her, and this was the best spot. Or so he thought.

She was gone. Or rather, she was going backwards, and not towards him. Corinth flared out his wings, stopping his ascent as Calistoth whirled past him; he, too, swung around, fully preparing to follow her again - had she not collided with Jessereth. That brown? She'd chosen a brown? Or had she just tried to stop Rath from killing him? But she wasn't pulling away - she had chosen him. Corinth hissed in frustration, closing his wings and letting himself drop past the pair, falling at a dizzying speed towards the far-away Weyr. Down, down, down. Through the lower foggy clouds, till each detail on the landscape below could be made out easily, and only then did he flare out his wings, angling himself into the deepest center of a lake, plunging headfirst into the icy water, trying to revive full consciousness, trying to dispel the Flightlust.

- - -

His green had turned again! T'rid/Corinth growled in frustration as he, too, spun, following the form of the green in front of him ran back, retracing the steps they had so recently taken. Back to Rath's weyr. The bronze followed - despite his dislike of Calistoth's looking for Rath, he would go there if it meant he would be seen, would be noticed. He mimicked Corinth's position, behind and diagonal to Calistoth, trying to be seen. He was here, unlike that stupid Rath. And it wasn't as if he was a mere blue, in comparison to Rath's bronze; he was a bronze too! Surely she saw that? He was a wonderful male, too, he was willing to fly for Calistoth - and he was there. Unlike the oddly absent Rath...

But he still wasn't Chosen. Jessereth. T'rid/Corinth, who had just entered Rath's weyr at the time of the choice, growled again, shaking his head as he spun on his heel to leave - except a yank stopped him; he was taken off guard as he twisted and found Calistoth pulling on him. A half-eager, half-questioning whine started in his throat as he took a step towards the green, eyes widening hopefully. And it was so, his green did want him. The combination of rejection and acceptance all at once was a confusing one, but the Flightlust, the desire, was still prominent. The touch of Calistoth under his shirt was enough proof for him. Furs. Furs were good, yes...T'rid's eyes left Calistoth for one brief second as he located Rath's furs. Oh, she was already pulling him towards them? Good. Clever Calistoth; of course she would think of that...

He yanked off his shirt, probably loosening a few stitches in the process, and all but sprang onto Calistoth when he judged them near enough the bed. No, the accompanying fall was anything but graceful, but it still accomplished what needed to be done well enough anyways. Pants. They were no good; they needed to come off. His own were beltless. That was easy, that was good - he kicked them off and started working off Calistoth's.