The World of Pern(tm) copyright (c) 1967 by Anne McCaffrey.
The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.
An online session, recorded by permission of the author for the benefit
of members unable to attend.
=======================================================================

May 16, 1999.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--
Your location's current time: 19:01 on day 1, month 4, Turn 27, of the
Tenth Pass. It is a spring evening.
Cast:  Erissa, E'vrin, Shannen, T'mren, Nya, Leara, Carla, Anya, Taiga,
       Leya, Orome, Daniel, Kalthanan, Josira, Br'mar, Divya, R'lym,
       Tika; T'bin, Melina, L'tan, T'saren, Janelle, Shannen, Sonya,
       Ph'lan, F'ren, Jommel, Jesica

Keroon Hold hosts a Gather that witnesses a mock Threadfall display
and a more serious (and destructive) mating flight shortly thereafter.
=======================================================================
[Just outside the Hold:]

--> Sharath backwings tightly, touching down just long enough to set
free his passenger.

You slide down Sharath's shoulder and foreleg to the ground.
--
Keroon Ramp(#2438RJa)
The 'Ramp' of Keroon Hold is a broad, nearly flat apron of neatly laid
paving stones, rising only a few inches up to the Hold's
gates. Several low stone benches are placed around the edge, and the
tracks of many feet and wagon wheels are worn into the stone. To your
west, the Keroon Hold quadrangle stands two stories high, capped by a
guard tower directly over the main gate; you can see the top of the
much larger Main Hall behind them. The green-white-gold banner of
Keroon Hold floats high above the guard tower, flapping softly in the
breeze.
The Hold's gate is to the west, under the guard tower. A corral lies
to the north. A road to the south leads off towards the coast.
Contents:
Sharath(#9757aes)
Faemirth
Erissa
Empty Tent
Dalegard Trader Camp
--

Sharath springs into the air.

Above, Sharath lands carefully on the roof of the Hold.
--
Sharath> Keroon Hold - Roof
The roof of Keroon Hold is built of tightly-interlocking sandstone
blocks, covered over with thin metal strips and sealed with a black
tarry substance. Shallow channels are filled with blackwater and set
alight when Thread is expected over the Hold. The view from the roof
is quite impressive; mountains are dimly visible to the north, and
grassy, sandy plains extend off to the southwest, while the sea rolls
into shore on the southeast. Directly below to the east, the busy
Courtyard is visible.
A covered trapdoor provides access to the Hold's stairwells. From here
you cannot hear the chatter in the courtyard, but due to a trick of
the walls of the Hold, they can hear you.
Contents:
Genneth
Zarabella
Cevodnioth(#8080OVaes)
--

Erissa nods politely to E'vrin.

E'vrin peers after his mount, absently brushing dust from his orange
finery, then comes back to earth. Oh. Right. "--Sorry," he mutters
Erissa's way. "First visit. Good evening."

Faemirth alights with much more permanence, wings furled along her
sides and settled. She crouches neatly, allowing her rider easy access
to the ground, a foreleg extended to aid the greenrider's
dismount. She lands in a tidy crouch of her own.

Shannen slides down to Faemirth's offered foreleg, pausing a moment as
her lifemate gives her an affectionate whuffle before hopping neatly
to the ground.

Above, Cevodnioth wings up from the roof below.
Above, Cevodnioth angles north, towards the ramp.
Cevodnioth lands neatly.

Sharath> Sharath backwings carefully, steadily, and settles into a
crouch where he can angle his wings for best, last bits of sun-warmth.

Erissa chuckles and shakes her head. "Ista's greetings, and no
problem."

--
      The young woman turns in your direction as you look her
way. Gray eyes, with subtle violet highlights, sweep over you quickly,
returning your gaze. The golden-honey brown hair that frames her face
has been pulled back and fastened at the nape of her neck with a tiny
clasp of gold, decorated with a simple rose carved from white
coral. Taller than her contemporaties, Erissa is of average appearance
with strongly defined features. Her lightly tanned skin is smudged
slightly with a trace of flour on her left cheek.
      Her light blue sarong has a simple pattern of flowing lines and
miniature whirls of dark blue thread, accompanied by the knotwork of
Ista Weyr on one shoulder. Wherhide slippers have been dyed to match
the same light shade of blue as the sarong.
      Appearing to be around 16 Turns, 8 months, and 28 days of age,
Erissa moves with the awkward grace of the young. When she talks,
Erissa's voice displays a soft accent common to the areas surrounding
Lemos Hold.
--

E'vrin grins easy relief. "You're kind. Igen returns the greetings, on
my behalf, anyway. This /is/ the Gather, hmm?"

Erissa looks around and nods. "Yes, I believe so."

Shannen hangs back near her lifemate, adopting a rather absent lean
against the green's jaw. A glance flickers skyward as the bronze
settles, eyes narrowed to take note of the rider. Then she nods and
falls back to her lean once again, waiting.

Sharath> Genneth remains sleeping despite all the activity.

T'mren climbs off the dragon, and hops nimbly to his feet.
T'mren hops off Cevodnioth and grins, "Ready and willing!"

L'tan comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Habrith leaves the corral to join you, shutting the gate carefully.

Rhonneth comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

"Good." E'vrin finishes sidling out of the newcome bronzes' and
brown's way, without coming too close to disturbing the Fortian pair,
and pauses, glancing again at Erissa. "Crowded," he opines. "Thank you
for the welcome, but I think I should go hide up in the Hold. Enjoy
the Gather!"

Anise comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Melina leans over the big brown's neck and slides to the ground.

Erissa nods to E'vrin. "Take care." Looking around she smiles at the
Istanites. "I wonder if more will show up?"

E'vrin ducks his head to the rest of the gathering, abashedly polite,
and hurries up the ramp.

Darieth leaves the corral to join you, shutting the gate carefully.

You pass under the archway and through the gates into the courtyard.
--
Keroon Hold Courtyard(#1515RFJ)
Welcome to Keroon Hold! The courtyard, neatly paved with granite
flagstones, is the center of much of the Hold's activity, and it shows
in the atmosphere of hustle and bustle which surrounds you. The Main
Hall towers to the west, connecting with some lower buildings in the
south. To the east rises the wall of the Hold, and its guard
tower. All the buildings are constructed of pink or grey granite, and
all the windows bear metal shutters, a silent testimony to the
incursions of Thread which plague the planet.
The spicy scents which waft from the windows of the low building to
the south betray the kitchen's position, while a faint runner-like
odour which is carried from the northeast points out the Hold's
Stables. The Gates lie to the east, and to the southeast of the main
entrance a stairway has been carved into the stone, and leads to the
Guard Tower.
Today the sky is blue, and the Gather flags are flying! There is a
bustle of activity throughout the Hold, as crafters, traders, holders,
and weyrfolk alike take advantage of the opportunity of a market day
filled with entertainment and events!
Contents:
Nya
Anya
Leara
Woodsmith Gather Tent(#3617JOe)
Sin
Carla
Taiga(#7265PJce)
Healer Hall Gather Tent(#12753Jes$)
Winecraft Pavillion (WP)(#4493JMe$)
BeastCraft Pens
Pryth(#282DJaeps)
--

E'vrin tugs the last wrinkle from his overtunic, takes a breath, and
plunges with it from the gates' shadow into the courtyard proper.

Nya looks up, a faint shadow of concern crossing her face, "We have
been flying more than usual lately... but she oughtn't to be that
soundly asleep."

--
Short, and thin, Nya's figure is still girlish despite the laugh lines
beginning to appear around her eyes and the contrasting worry lines
across her forehead. This dichotomy is mirrored in voice and manner:
at times joyful and outgoing; at times pensive and withdrawn. Her
complexion is dark, more from natural predisposition than from time
spent in the sun. Her short hair is a brown dark enough to be mistaken
for black in low light, and although usually carefully combed, if a
breeze or her own hands lift the top layers, a flash of silver-grey
can be seen here and there. Brown eyes are set in a face with delicate
yet distinct features.
Today Nya is dressed for the Keroon Gather: a full dress of a deep
purple falls from her shoulders to mid-calf, interrupted only by a
gold belt with a complex knotwork clasp. The fabric is rich, but the
cut is simple and unadorned by embroidery. A Ista Weyr knot, braided
in the pattern reserved for junior weyrwomen, is placed on her
shoulder.
Carrying:
Shoulder Knot
--

Leara slumps back against the rails as the bluerider bounces off, a
mixture of relief and disgust on her dark face. With a slightly
shaking hand she grabs hold of the apprentice and pulls him over to
her, positioning him right in front of the gate to the pens. "You're
taking care of the riders from now on, y'hear?" As the apprentice
gives her a vigorous yet clueless nod of agreement, the woman hobbles
bruskly into the pens again. The perfect place to hide out.
Leara pushes the gate to one side and enters the BeastCraft Pens.

Carla dropped Falstaff.

Falstaff springs into the air.
Above, Falstaff wings up from the courtyard below.

Taiga has connected.

Above, Falstaff veers south and glides down.

On the roof, Sharath, solicitiously, makes sure he's quiet for the
queen's sleep ... but there /is/ that itch along his
haunch. Carefully, he nibbles at it, blue-lantern eyes agog at the
courtyard below.

Nya says irritably, "Excuse me, please."
Nya passes through the archway and gates out onto the Ramp.

E'vrin makes an ambling way towards the tents, elbows tucked to his
sides for fear of random poking, no doubt, and disappears around the
Winecraft's pavillion for a moment.

Leya has arrived.

Leith comes out of *between* and swoops to a landing.

Leya goes into the Woodsmiths' Gather Tent.
Leya comes out of the Woodsmiths' Gather Tent.

Carla looks around and smiles, "Well, almost a moment of peace... it's
amazing how loud riders can be when they have a chance to attend a
Gather," she says with a bit of a laugh.

Anya watches drudges scurry around, cleaning up the worst of the mess
as the crowd moves off to watch the drills.

Above, Habrith wings up from the Ramp.

Anya nods to Carla. "Riders," she says, the comment full of meaning.

Above, Rhonneth wings up from the Ramp.

E'vrin emerges with a pair of leather wine botas clutched delicately
in either hand. "I'm trying to be quiet," he protests virtuously
towards Carla and Anya. "--Eavesdropping, if you'll pardon me, but
quiet all the same."

--
Carla's plaited hair is steadfastly light brown, despite the lingering
scent of citron that indicates that it's not for lack of trying to
make it something a bit more interesting. Her full height places her
squarely at average. Somewhere in her mid to late twenties, Carla's
manner is generally secure and down to earth.
        Her sapphire eyes are her greatest asset, one which she has
not yet outgrown using to her fullest advantage wherever
possible. Generally alive with a spark of mischief, they can deepen in
self-reflection or ignite to anger. Carla's hands are neither reddened
like a drudge's nor lily-white like a privileged daughter of a Lady
Holder, and her arms are well muscled in a way that indicates some
physical labour.
        Her dress today is formal: a dress of rich burgundy,
embroidered with light gold thread about the neck and sleeves in a
knotwork pattern. The knot indicating the rank of junior headwoman
sits on her shoulder.
Carrying:
Slate
--
Anya's face is one of angles. A long, thin nose, softly defined chin,
high cheekbones, and a small mouth elegantly accent her almond shaped
brown-black eyes. Her hair is midnight black, long in the back and
with bangs brushing her eyebrows. She is fairly short, and carries
herself with a fragile grace. As with most things, looks can be
decieving.
Anya's dress shimmers, as one might expect with pride of her home, in
the magnificient colors of the Hold its wearer represents. The high
waisted bodice is of purest white, encrusted with swirling leaves
worked in tiny beads of peridot. The full skirt rustles in frothing
waves from just below the bust to the ground, held out with stiffened
underskirts of gauzey sisal. Its pure sweep of white is as pristine as
the fall of snow on a hillside. The sleeves are sweet drifts of the
same white, slashed along the outside seam, elognated ovals caught up
and separated by fastenings of peridots as well. Golden fabric peeks
through the oval shapes, glinting in the light. As Anya moves, flashes
of golden material lining the skirt peek out, adding to the rich
ambiance of the dress.Anya's hair is loose around her shoulders and
held back from her face by a complicatedly braided headband made from
ribbons in the Hold colors.
--
[Amid the spam, Anya and I agreed that E'vrin made proper obeisance to
 her, the Lady Holder.]

Carla looks over and laughs, coloring faintly, "Oh... you overheard
me."

Taiga finishes her dinner hastily, once the girls' stopped chattering
long enough to eat. Comments heavy with anticipation for the
demonstration about to be launched ripple down the long table, and
gather-goers rise to head for the doors in clusters. Handing her plate
to a passing drudge, Taiga snags her still full glass of wine, and
gets to her feet, too, just as dragons lift from beyond the holds'
gates.

Carla tilts her head and then extends her hand, "In that case I'm
Rachel of Half Circle Seahold, nice to meet you, rider."

Above, Respath wings up from the Ramp.

E'vrin's face isn't without color, itself, but he attempts a
half-bow. "I did, and I'm sorry. Igen's regards to Keroon on the happy
day, I'm E'vrin, and -- my hands are full. Just a moment--" Perilous
shuffling ensues.

Above, Habrith wings in a slow circle, waiting for the wing to form up
behind him. His rider feeds him one last bit of stone and the bronze
gives a tentative cough of flame in order to determine his readiness.

Leya heads toward toward a door with a group of other people, getting
ready to watch the display.

Carla remembers her knot and claps her other hand over it, grinning,
"That's okay, I excuse you from the formalities." She waves to Leya
with a smile.

Anya hmms, eyeing E'vrin.

Above, Rhonneth wings up after the larger bronze, his rider fumbling
with the sack to toss him a stone. That accomplished, he crunches on
the stone, eyes awhirl with his excitement. He falls a bit behind
Habrith and a few others, choosing to watch the others carefully to
properly fly in suit.

Above, Faemirth wings up from the Ramp.
Above, Darieth wings up from the Ramp.
Above, Cevodnioth wings up from the Ramp.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Genneth sleeps, unmovingly. There remains
a quality to the stillness that suggests motion; a chord, perhaps,
unresolved to the dominant key.

Above, Darieth takes up a position higher than the 'fighting
wing'. His rider carries a pot containing paint - nice bright pink
that Anise chose herself.

"Kind of you!" E'vrin says, mid-shuffle, and gives Carla a relieved
smile. "I only took two because it's so dusty, or so it seems, and --
oh, say. There's a display here, too?"

Leya smiles and waves to Carla from her doorway.

Carla nods with a smile, "Ista's leading... it /is/ interesting," she
admits, "Normally one's stuck and shuttered for this sort of thing.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath modulates a faint reply with one
string of his mind: open then closed, belatedly, to mute crystalline
dawnfire.

Above, Trisseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

You say "Or riding in the middle of it, true enough."

Above, Respath takes the tradition position of wingsecond only a few
dragonlengths away from Habrith. He keeps his distance, careful not to
get too close.

Above, Habrith roars out in a traditional challenge to his enemy,
thread as the riders circling above begin dropping paint covered ropes
down through the air.

E'vrin cranes around to see the waver, too, and offers Leya a
tentative smile. It /is/ Gathertime, after all.

--
Leya is about 5'6" with deep set dark blue eyes and if you look
closely you can see a light scattering of freckles across her
nose. She has thick, straight, dark brown hair that falls to the
middle of her back, which she tries to keep out of her face by wearing
it in a simple braid most of the time.
 Leya is currently clad in a long sleeveless dress, tied at the waist
with a deep wine-red sash. Iridescent blue and rich crimson swirl
across the fabric in whirls, complementing the dark brown of her
hair. The upper portion of the dress is cut a bit low in the back, it
outlines its wearer's form admirably. The skirt portion is moderately
full, with some pleating at the edges to cunningly hide the seams, the
overall effect is one of simple elegance. A small label under the hem
of the skirt, bearing the Weavercraft seal, indicates that the maker
is one Apprentice Cygna. Leya is 17 Turns, 5 months, and 4 days old.
Carrying:
Lyra
A Fish Pendant dangles around Leya's neck.
--

Above, Faemirth navigates an easy route up from the ramp, weaving
through the other wings blanketing the sky. She positions herself well
above those lower ranks, a wide circle to survey the entire, unfamilar
scene before she finds someplace to hover for the moment, awaiting a
cue of some sort, it seems.

Above, Cevodnioth heads upwards with Faemirth, snapping his wings
vigorously to gain height above the other dragons.

Anya glances up towards the circling dragons, and shakes her head
ruefully.

Taiga cranes her neck upwards, taking the time to flash the Igen
bronzerider, and the Assistant Headwoman a breif smile. "Wings forming
up above," She comments quietly, "I half expect to get yelled at to
fetch the numbweed, for 'soon enough we'll have injuries comming in'."
Her voice takes on the querrulous tones of one of Fort's
dragonhealers, though just who she's imitating might be beyond those
around her.

--
This adolescent girl captivates the attention of many, with her
sparkling blue eyes that are deepening to grey as she matures, and a
smile that is infectious still. Taiga's energy can fill a room despite
her average size; she'll not grow taller than most of her friends. Her
tumbles of curls shine golden around her face, marked here and there
with darker reddish brown. Cut short in a blunt, yet still feminine
bob, the front hangs rather longer than the back, which curls into
tight ringlets now free of the weight of long tresses. Taiga is
certainly no longer a child, though she appears perhaps a little
younger than her age of 16 Turns, 2 months, and 13 days.
        Taiga is wearing garments appropriate for a gather, if a
little on the plain side. Her dress, and it might be noted she moves
with discomfort in the full skirts, is of a deep blue shade in fabric
suitable for Keroon's spring. A silvered brocade forms a slim
decoration about the garment's neckline and wrists, with a wider
border 'round the hem. But below that embellished hem betrays the
girls' lack of comfort in fancy clothes - everyday work boots.Pinned
to her shoulder is the simple knot of a Fort Weyr resident. While this
adolescent often has a number of firelizards swarming around her, for
now it seems that only two are in attendance. An irridescent gold
perches on her shoulder, while a bronze keeps a wary eye from a
distance.
Carrying:
Clea
--

Above, Rhonneth bugles out a single clear note in the clear sky, his
own challenge to his age old nemisis. He dips a wingtip, positioning
himself to flame the first patch to dare cross his path.

Above, Trisseth angles north, towards the ramp.

Carla grins at Taiga, "Mock aunties?"

Leya smiles at E'vrin then peers upward as the 'thread' begins the
fall from the sky.

Above, Habrith raises his muzzle and fires off a precise blast of
flame which obliverates a blue rope from top to bottom - leaving only
a bit of ash wafting on the wind.

It's beyond E'vrin, anyway, that's patently obvious; but he flashes
her a smile right back. "My Sharath's twitching to join, and I'm
feeling it, too," he admits to Taiga. "But look at them flame!
Pretty." And safe.

Above, Cevodnioth circles up above the other dragons, watching the
'Thread' fall.

Above, The first patch of 'thread' falls toward Rhonneth's
wedge-shaped head. Almost without thought, he angles his wings
sharply, belching flame up at it from below, dodging the flaming,
charred mess at the last minute and letting it tumble harmlessly to
the ground.

Above, Respath turns his head back toward Ph'lan and accepts a large
chunk of firestone. Chewing carefully he swallows and immediately
veers to the side, instinctively avoiding a dripping green strand of
rope. Tilting his head back, a large belch of flame consumes the rope,
the cinders spinning toward the ground.

Orome has connected.
Orome steps out of the Beastcraft area.

Taiga can't help but take a step backwards, towards the 'safety' of
the Hold, as the dyed ropes begin to fall. Sheepishly grinning at
that, and to Carla, she blushes just ever so slightly. "Aunties,
uncles, seems everyone tells someone my age what to do." The
adolescent observes, sending a nod to the Assistant Headwoman. "You're
right, though, they're pretty. Do the ropes burn the same way Thread
does?" She asks of E'vrin, curiosity finally getting the better of
her.

Anya moves quickly towards the side of the courtyard, under the
shelter of an overhang as so not to be under any falling ropes or
ash. "Tell me again," she says to Carla. "How I got talked into
allowing this?"

Above, Yventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!
Above, Silventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, Habrith soars on slowly pumping bronze wings. His head scans
back and forth, tracking the ropes that come within his reach. His
flame is efficient - just enough to destroy what is within easy
reach. He allows his wingriders to pick up the rest.

Above, Silventh angles north, towards the ramp.
Above, Yventh angles north, towards the ramp.

E'vrin stays squinting at the display, after a squirt of wine to
soften his mouth for answering the Fortian teen. "They don't twist the
right way," he finally says. "Thread roils and coils like a live
thing, and it can seem to jump right over your flame, or squeeze
around it, if the winds are right."

Above, Faemirth snakes her own head down, following the grayish
tendrils with whirling eyes. She gives a strange, curious rumble -
that is NOT Thread, Shannen - but never brakes the wide arc she's
begun, easily winging about the circumference of the courtyard. She
neatly avoids a collision with a newly arrived dragon, leaving the
handfull of rope dropped at that moment to shift in a wing-borne gust.

Above, Respath carefully trails behind Habrith, the habits of sticking
with your wingleader dying hard. He spouts out a large lick of flame,
charring the clump Shannen just dropped. The blue dragon roars
defiantely against the 'Thread.' Merely for effect, of course.

On the roof, Sharath makes a queer noise in the back of his throat, at
the sound of Respath's roar, but stays where he is, a guest, though
his eyes are spinning faster, redder, from watching.

Taiga can't fight the shudder that twitches through her spine at
E'vrin's words. "Ugh." Comes her oh-so-eloquent answer. She, too, sips
at her wine, if only just to moisten a suddenly rather dry mouth. But
the revulsion at the thought of just what Thread might really look
like is soon lost, as the girl turns wide eyes skyward again.

Carla listens to E'vrin, fascinated.

Above, Rhonneth dives after the rest of the 'thread' tumbling toward
the ground. He belches a great plume of flame, searing what Habrith
left to him easily. He pulls back sharply, reangling to join the wing
once more. He bugles again, his body alive with the sheer joy of
burning the falling menace.

E'vrin seems to be in need of more drink, too, or at least in doing
what Taiga is: watch the display, forget, just enjoy. After another
swallow, he mutters an apology, adding ruefully to Carla sidelong,
"Maybe riders /are/ too noisy."

Divya comes out of the Winecraft pavillion.

Carla grins, "Well, as long as they don't spook the runners."

Orome quite happily looks up, half-cheering every time a particularly
impressive show is given by the dragons.

Divya goes into the Woodsmiths' Gather Tent.

You say "Hardly! I'd have to bellow, don't you think, and wave my arms
around like a wild thing? No. We're guests; we're watching. --/That's/
a good dive, right there."

Above, Lunarth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Anya peers up over the over hang.

Above, Lunarth angles north, towards the ramp.

Above, One of the larger Istan bronzes isn't quick enough and takes a
'thread' direcly on the muzzle. The pink paint splatters into his
face, startling the bronze between. He doesn't return but instead
chooses to return to the weyr and a bath in the waves.

Daniel has arrived.

Above, A clump of the fake thread tangles in Faemirth's talons and she
gives a start, shaking the oh-so-menacing ropes free of her foreclaws
with a startled and stiffled trumpet. Handfulls of curling, writhing
ropes rain down after her passage, littering the sky in irregular
clumps bound for a flaming death.

"Not the riders that'll spook the runners," Taiga quips, tearing her
eyes from the scene above them, with a grin. Not far off, a clutch of
the adolescent's friends cling to one another, the girls sqealing in
mock-terror at being out in 'threadfall'. With an expression as wry as
the girl can manage, Taiga looks back to Carla. "Not just riders
that're noisy, either."

E'vrin diplomatically sips wine and says nothing.

Carla laughs, "That's true... too true."

Kalthanan walks out from the Main Hall.

Leya sees some movement out of the corner of her, looks over toward,
sees Daniel and waves to him to come join her watching the
'threadfall' from a doorway.

Above, Habrith turns in a slow circle, bringing the wing back under
the rope weilding riders and keeping the fall above the courtyard.

Above, Zyanth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, Respath barely finishes chewing his next piece of stone before
he violent veers right, avoiding a dragon /betweening/ in from
who-knows-where. He cranes his neck skyward, his eyes looking more
amused at he fake 'Thread' than if it had been real. Catching a
thermal, he soars upwards blasting three pieces of paint-soaked rope
in quick succession, while his spade-tipped tail trails behind him.

Daniel catches sight of Leya as she waves, then grins and ambles over,
covering the distance quickly with his long legs.

From Daniel's shoulder, Cinder chirrples a greeting to Leya as Daniel
smiles and says, "Hi. How are things going so far?"

Josira passes under the archway to enter the courtyard.

Above, Zyanth angles north, towards the ramp.

Kalthanan comes from the hold, chatting and laughing with two other
men as he walks. Once out of the main throughfare, he stops, watching
the airal display above.

Br'mar passes under the archway to enter the courtyard.

Above, Rhonneth dips on a wingtip, chasing it around in a tight loop
as he redirects himself once more. An errant clump as clipped his
tail, an oversight he usually wouldn't allow. The pink-stained tail
whips around after him as he flames the offending bunch of ropes. The
'thread' properly dispatched, he bugles, a mixture of mock pain and
triumph. In an instant, he blinks in and out of between, soon
rejoining the Istan dragons.

E'vrin admires, "That blue is a wonderful fighter," from the middle of
a loose clump o' watchers. "--And there goes the brown again! No, he's
back."

Leya smiles at Daniel, then returns her gaze to the sky. "It's going
really well. This is fun to watch, much more fun than the real thing."

Divya comes out of the Woodsmiths' Gather Tent.

Daniel grins and follows Leya's look, "Definately. And it looks like
the dragons are enjoying themselves, too."

Orome seems more amused then anything else by the whole thing. She
begins to walk to a bigger crowd of observers, taking care to dodge
any ropes that make it through. Ash she ignores.

Above, Ashroth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Divya leaves the Woodies' tent and scans the crowd to see who is there.

Above, Faemirth brakes abruptly, a pause in the steady stream of ropes
as she hovers momentarily, almost directly above the courtyard's
center. Her rider, who had been expecting the sharp halt, dumps out
far more than a handful of thread there, the green hovering for
several long seconds. A very large clump cascades toward the
flagstones far beneath, spreading out slightly as it goes.

Taiga gasps, getting caught up in the display overhead, as a green
makes a neck-snapping turn to flame a clump. A giggle quickly folows,
as the girl realizes just how foolish she must appear, head tilted up,
mouth open, and gasping with every close call. But, as this is what
most others are doing, she forgets her adolescent embarassment, and
resumes.

"Divya!" Josira spies the girl across the crowd and waves her over.

Br'mar turns his head around as Josira calls out. "Where?"

Divya grins and walks over to Josira. "Hi there! How's it going for
you two these days?"

Above, Respath beats his wings steadily, rising up toward the dragons
dropping the rope. A rather large clump streams through the air, on
course for a direct hit. Waiting until the last second before the
clump would hit, he blue blinks /between/ and appears slightly above
the offending clump almost as soon as he left. He looses a blast of
flame, bugling the satasfaction that is charring Thread.

Kalthanan looks up when he hears Divya's name. He, too, gives the
crowd a quick scan.

Leya hears a someone call out a familiar name and looks around for
it's owner, spots her and waves cheerful to her.

E'vrin muffles a cheer for who's obviously his favorite, the dashing
blue Respath, looks around the way Taiga had, and buries his nose in
wine. Ahem.

From Daniel's shoulder, Cinder chitters up at the diving and swooping
dragons, clearly enjoying watching the spectacle.

Above, Ashroth glides forward, belching out a flame towards a very
large gobbet that has been dropped. He blows a narrow jet of flame
that winds its way from the center of the gobbet towards the edges. He
then plunges through the ring he has cleared, looking as though he
flew through it. By the time the thread approaches the ground, the
entire clump is nothing but ash.

Lyra chirps, also watching the dragon's but being more quiet about it.

Br'mar smiles and breaks from Josira only long enough to give his
younger sister a hug. "Good, as I hear it's going for you,
too. Congratulations!"

Orome dodges one of the bigger blobs of ash on her way to a group.

Divya grins and turns a bit to show off her new knot. "Looks good,
doesn't it?"

Kalthanan has reconnected.

Above, Rhonneth flanks a good-sized clump, flaming at it as he
passes. He straightens and rises on a thermal, his wingsails filled
with the warm air. He bugles in satisfaction, the charred remains of
ropes falling to the ground.

Kalthanan has partially disconnected.

Br'mar nods, returning to Josira's side. "Looks very good."

Divya grins and says, "Thanks! How's it going for you, Br'mar?"

Taiga has disconnected.

Above, Solarith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Above, Habrith moves to one end of the wing, surrendering the 'leader'
slot to Ashroth. The bronze takes this all with his usual
equamanity. It matters little where you fly as long as you flame well.

Above, Solarith angles north, towards the ramp.

Br'mar gives Josira's arm a squeeze and says, "Very good, thanks."
After a moment, he does remember. "Oh, I've also been selected by
Rilsa to be an assistant weyrlingmaster for Elisanth's upcoming
clutch." :)

Above, Respath snaps his wings back, propelling him forward like a
rocket. He shoots under a clump, and carefully tilts the edges of his
wings down, causing him to turn straight up. Turning his wings
slightly more, he flips his position to point downward sending a
stream of flame forth to eradicate the menance just below him. Tucking
his wings, he corkscrews through the ash before unfurling his wings
and ascending skyward.

E'vrin mutters, "I have /got/ to meet that dragon's rider. No,
Sharath, you aren't nearly that acrobatic; hush." Jealousy reigns on
high.

Above, Zyrieth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Divya squeals and says, "Congratulations! Are you torturing Dendra?"

Above, Zyrieth folds his wings, heading for the courtyard.
Zyrieth lands neatly.

R'lym lovingly pats Zyrieth's neck, swings his leg over the bronze's
neck and hops to the ground.
R'lym waves and looks around.

Br'mar chuckles. "Only if she impresses."

E'vrin squeezes into his watching crowd, away from the Reaches bronze;
tips his rider a polite nod in return (well, someone should).

Above, Rhonneth seems just to be happy to flame in the back of the
pack, searing the leavings of the other dragons as if it were the
first clump falling from the sky.

Anya nods a greeting to R'lym

Leya smiles and waves to R'lym, then looks back up toward the sky.

Carla has disconnected.

R'lym walks over to Anya, "High Reaches duty Keroon and her Lady."

Anya says "and Keroon's to High Reaches."

Divya snorts, "Like she would, hah! She never even wanted to be a
rider!"

Josira responds mildly to Divya's reemark, "The dragons don't often
take that into consideration."

R'lym smiles, "It has been a while since my last visit. I hope I am
finding the Hold well."

Above, Darieth comes to a quick stop and hovers. His rider turns her
back over and sends a cascade of ropes coursing down through the
sky. There are way too many ropes going every which way.

Above, Cevodnioth angles north, towards the ramp.

Above, Faemirth gives a rather unhappy warble as droplets of paint
DARE to splatter her lushly green hide, her lifemate neverminding them
as she further empties her bag. Almost at the end, she glances over at
Cevodnioth, then Darieth, then just dumps the remaining ropes out of
the bag. Her present speed keeps them spread at least somewhat,
several small clusters dancing on a breeze as they plummot.

Br'mar chuckles and nods, agreeing with Josira.

Taiga has connected.

Above, Habrith takes the increase in 'thread' in stride and begins
flaming everything in sight. The effect is rather like an explosion of
fireworks as other dragons begin the same process.

Above, Ashroth roars through the thread, belching an enormous
whirlwind of flame to try not to let any reach the poor nearly
paint-splattered spectators before. The bronze is lost in a clound of
black smoke and red flame.

Divya shrugs, "Well, they should." She doesn't say more becasue she
does like Dendra, after all.

Anya says "well, despite this..."
Anya waves up into the air full of dragons and rope.

Tika comes out from the stables.
Sunset comes out from the stables.

Anya says "we're well, thank you."

Sunset follows Tika at the end of a strong lead rope.

R'lym tilts his head, "Despite...?"

And ash. Mustn't forget the ash. E'vrin's busy wiping the stuff from
his shoulders, one eye on his remaining bota, the other on the sky.

Above, From within the flaming cloud of ash, Ashroth bugles to the
others to catch up, but his bugle sounds rather strained.

On the roof, Genneth suddenly begins to gleam, her hide gaining in a
luminescence far beyond reflection of any source of light other than
within.

Tika unsnaps the lead from Sunset's headstall and turns the runner
loose.

Above, Rhonneth dives from the fury of fire and smoke with a trumpet
that bears no definition. Melina seems unaffected by the odd flight
pattern, just holding on until the brown lands.

Sunset passes through the slatted doors to the stables.

Above, Rhonneth angles north, towards the ramp.

Orome, barely under cover, is getting decidedly
ash-stained. Fortunately, she doesn't appear to care one way or the
other.

Above, Darieth disappears into Between.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath's mind plucks swift, curious
inquiry: she's awake?

Above, Faemirth waits till some of the flame has died beneath her
before she begins a very tight spiral toward the ramp. There's
something very tight and insistent about her rider's expression as the
green alights, great wings tucked neatly against her sides.
Above, Faemirth angles north, towards the ramp.

Above, Habrith wings down to land in the Hold's corrals.

Br'mar turns with a start to look back out to the
ramp. "Uhm.. Silventh?" he says.

R'lym looks up, "It looks like it's going rather well."

Above, As soon as the last of the thread is charred, Ashroth makes a
headlong plunge for the corrals, taking a rather wide-eyed rider with
him.

On the roof, Sharath stretches out his narrow head to see the last of
the display, or perhaps -- Genneth?

Leya looks around the courtyard as the dragon's start to land and sees
Tika. "Tika!" She yells.

Above, Ashroth wings down to land in the Hold's corrals.

Taiga edges back, coughing slightly at the ash that's swirling even in
the air of hte courtyard, far below the demonstration above, and
uselessly flicking her skirts.

On the roof, Genneth twitches at the whithers, instinct perhaps
coursing through her until her tail begins to twitch.

Above, Respath tilts his head skyward only to see the tossers upend
their entire stash of ropes, filling the sky above him. His roar echos
around the hold, as he instinctively locates a thermal and rides it
straight toward the mass of rope. Appearing as though he's going to
cleave through the ropes, the blue has something else in
store. Letting loose a wide, yet controlled arc of fire, an opening
barely large enough for him to fly through is former. Pressing his
wings against his back he flys completely through it,
unscathed. Blinking between he appears levelely with the rest of the
rope and proceeds to plow his way through, charring all the
way. Giving a self satasfied snort he descends toward the ground, his
eyes whirling in alarm.

Divya applauds the skill of the dragons.

Above, Respath angles north, towards the ramp.

On the roof, Sharath needs no more inducement. Madder eyes lead him up
and out through the drifts of ash, the sweep of flame-scent.
On the roof, Sharath springs into the air.
Above, Sharath wings down to land in the Hold's corrals.

Br'mar shuffles his feet a little nervously, then looks at
Josira. "Uhm, I think we might have a..."

Zyrieth springs into the air.
Above, Zyrieth wings up from the courtyard below.

Divya turns to Br'mar and asks, "What's wrong?"

--
Sharath> Corral(#2437RJa)
A large, mostly grassy corral, this is where the herdbeasts stay while
they are waiting - for food, to be sold, to be ridden, or just for the
grass to grow. Several sandy indentations are places where the
runnerbeasts roll for pleasure, and the three or four small trees have
a few more beasts resting in the shade. Some of the beasts are loosely
strung together, and are obviously part of a sellers' chain.
A gate to the south leads back to the Ramp.
Contents:
Zyanth
Melina
Ashroth
Habrith
Rhonneth
Silventh(#775JQaeps)
Solarith(#8900Jaepqs$)
Cevodnioth(#8080OVaes)
--
[/That's/ what was wrong:  all that prize flesh...]

Leya joins Divya in clapping for the dragons, she looks at Daniel who
is standing with her. "That was really neat."

Tika blinks as she walks into the courtyard from the stables. "Ah, so
/this/ was all the racket was about!" she peers about her. "Leya!" she
calls.

Kalthanan waves a hand in front of him to bat away some of the
ash. "Well, all this ash floating about has made me absolutely
parched."

Sharath> Habrith waits patiently until a stampeding runner smacks
right into his side. All the bronze has to do is reach down and drain
the stunned beast dry.

Sharath> T'bin barely has time to slap open his straps and roll away,
even before Ashroth lands, He is trapped in the middle of a corral of
stampeding animals as Ashroth settles to feed, and is screaming "No!!
No!! I specifically ordered...." The rest of his complaint is lost in
a stampede.
Sharath> T'bin unbuckles himself from the straps, preparing to
dismount.
Sharath> T'bin smoothly slides down Ashroth's shoulder and along his
leg.

Josira, who has been staring at the woodsmith tent, turns to her
companion with a smile. "What was that love?"

Above, Zyrieth angles north, towards the ramp.
Above, Zyrieth wings up from the Ramp.
Above, Zyrieth wings down to land in the Hold's corrals.

Br'mar groans and says, simply, "Silventh," and goes back out to the ramp.

Daniel has disconnected.

Sharath> Melina clambers through the fence, a move long since
forgotten from her years of runner riding. She yells something
unintelligable after Rhonneth who seems not to pay her any heed at
all. All he's concerned with is the bloody carcass before him and
draining the blood from it.

Orome applauds at the wonderful show by the dragons, though shortly
she seems distracted enough by the fact that a good portion of the
dragons are looking toward the golden dragon.

Br'mar passes through the archway and gates out onto the Ramp.

Leya grins and peers over people's head, then walks over to Tika and
holds her arms out to give her a hug.

Anya ducks out from her shelter. "Where were those dragons headed?"
she asks, looking in the direction of the corrals."

Sharath> Solarith glides over the fence of the corrals and immediately
swoops on a fat wherry buck, sending proto-feathers flying as talons
close around the unlucky beast's throat. A strangled squawk comes from
the wherry before the bronze snaps its neck and lowers his head to
blood his kill.

Sharath> Sharath plunges the narrow, gem-eyed dirk of his body towards
the thick of the herd, wings trailing bright quillons behind. Mindful
of the others, of the close space, he pulls up sharply, neatly in one
spot, and fans himself down atop the limp runner caught fast --
leaking, but fast -- in his foretalons.

Sharath> Cevodnioth slashes out with one wickedly sharp-clawed foot,
and sends a herdbeast thumping to the ground. He is on it with
frightening speed, opening it's neck with his teeth and drinking
thirstily.

Sharath> Zyrieth soars down into the corrals and quickly chases down a
particularly large runner, breaking its neck and quickly selttling
down to drink the flowing crimson.

Sharath> Zyanth swings his head from side to side, eyes whirling. A
low rumble comes from deep, deep within his chest.

On the roof, Genneth awakens with a bellow, spreading her wings to
their full length. She roars a challenge across the Hold, deafeningly.

R'lym gasps and looks toward the corrals and Zyrieth. "Oh no..." he
mutters.

Kalthanan goes into the Winecraft pavillion.

Daniel has connected.

On the roof, Genneth springs into the air.

E'vrin sucks in a breath -- coughs from the ash thus inhaled -- and
stammers out, towards Carla, Taiga, and the others nearby, "Have to --
sorry -- have to go -- oh, Sharath, you /fool,/ now?"

Taiga has disconnected.

Orome has reconnected.
Orome applauds at the wonderful show by the dragons, though shortly
she seems distracted enough by the fact that a good portion of the
dragons are looking toward the golden dragon.

Josira says "Oh dear..."
Josira passes through the archway and gates out onto the Ramp.

Sharath> Silventh snaps off the neck of a herdbeast quickly and starts
blooding from the beast.

Above, Yventh wings up from the Ramp.

You pass through the archway and the gates, out onto the Ramp.
--
Keroon Ramp(#2438RJa)
Contents:
Shannen(#9987PIJcemq)
Br'mar
Ph'lan
Respath
L'tan(#8525POVcem)
Faemirth
Tellira(#12129PVce)
T'mren
Erissa
T'saren
F'ren
Janelle
Lunarth
Jesica
Trisseth
Nya
Grissa
Empty Tent
Dalegard Trader Camp
--

Above, Yventh disappears into Between.

Br'mar runs out and screams at his dragon from just outside the corrals.

Above, Genneth spies the bronzes blooding below and then shrieks a
challenge at the disappearing gold.

L'tan keeps yelling at Nya, "Bloody... She *was* glowing, Nya. Don't
they teach you anything at Fort. Like to not take your gold somewhere
when she's glowing?"

From the corrals, T'bin's head disappears in a cloud of dust, and he
disappears in the panicing animals. He appears when the dust clears,
closer to the edges of the corral, and makes a mad dash for it. He's
still yelling, but the dragons don't seem to take orders well from
him, even his own.
T'bin leaves the corral to join you, shutting the gate carefully.

T'saren watches his lifemate make his first kill, then turns to survey
the cluster of riders gathering around Nya. He shakes his head again,
then joins the group, frowning.

Nya gasps, "Oh - oh - her mind is - shut -up- L'tan!"

Melina leaves the corral to join you, shutting the gate carefully.

E'vrin, still coughing and clutching a half-empty bota of wine,
plunges out of the gates, ready to follow right in Br'mar's
tracks. Yelling seems appropriate. He'll join in, aiming his invective
at the pale, narrow and nimble bronze in the corral.

Janelle says "Fort, L'tan? She's been at Ista for three times as many
turns as she was at Fort."

Divya comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Shannen flickers a glance toward the Hold's roof, blinking as the
queen launches from it. "SOMEone," she insists, "had better take Nya
inside." Her nose wrinkles as the Keroon stock is attacked by the
males, and then she swings around to FROWN at L'tan. "Don't they teach
you anything at Ista? Like it's not point shouting about it now but
maybe you ought to get her inside."

Sonya comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Above, Genneth wings down to land in the Hold's corrals.
From the corrals, Genneth backwings to a landing.

R'lym comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

T'bin crawls through the fence, looking bruised and much the worse for
wear.

T'mren gulps, "Nya. Come..come on. We need to get inside and away from
here." He reaches for her arm impulsively.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath's mind flicks out, less a string
than a full chord now, played with rising, rapacious fervor: the
harmony of lust, the melody of need.

Br'mar turns around, watching Yventh flee the scene of the glowing
gold, and utters some more unmentionables at his blooding dragon
until, finally, he realizes the cause is lost, and instead
concentrates on making sure he does blood and not gorge himself.

L'tan's eyes narrow at the attack from several sides and he just turns
away from the group with his arms crosses over his chest. Ah, there's
T'bin. He comes up to the Weyrleader and says, "You fix this. It's
your sharding job now."

Nya bites her lip and then says, "No no no."

Sonya hurries down the rampp, haveing just arrived. She spots T'mren
first and rushes to him. "What's happening? Pryth says Genneth is
riseing!"

From the corrals, Zyrieth finishes with a runner and lifts his head
and roars in challenge to the other males and to the glowing Queen.

Melina looks at Shannen, her eyes fogged slightly with confusion. She
spots T'mren and growls under her breath, "I think she's capable of
walking herself" She scans the area then points to the tent, "What
about in there? C'mon, m'lady. Let's all go in there"

Yes yes yes, and oh, yes! E'vrin glares across the way, then huddles
into himself, sulking, seeking balance.

Anya comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Genneth's pulse is for blood.

From the corrals, Ashroth rips open an animal and lowers his head to
drink.

From the corrals, Habrith takes down another beast, blood oozing down
his muzzle and dripping onto the churned up sands.

Ph'lan shake shis head in disbelief. He's a bluerider, he still has
his wits about him. He takes Nya's other arm opposite T'mren, "Let's
get you inside, Weyrwoman." He looks to T'mren, "You need to get
inside too. C'mon."

T'mren bobs his head at Ph'lan, "We all do." He says, with a pointed
glance at Melina.

From the corrals, Solarith raises his head from the downed wherry just
long enough to bugle a greeting to the glowing gold, then returns to
his gulping down of the hot crimson fluid. Soon the corpse is dry and
he moves on to bigger, and more valuable, targets. A prize breeding
stallion goes down beneath the Telgar bronze's snapping teeth.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath croons the descant: then catch
it, and kill it, and blood it quite dry; then up again, up again, and
-- oh, bright queen -- fly!

F'ren chuckles, "I think its Genneth that's going to 'fix this',
L'tan."

From the corrals, Genneth snarls, felling a buck and waving her head
over it greedily. Her tail lashes onto the ground with a dull, hollow
thud.

Erissa moves over to Nya, looking around she calls out. "Is theree
anywhere private for her and the others?"

Anya rushes down from the hold, a stablehand hot on her heels. "What
is this I hear about..." she comes to an abrupt halt, seeing the state
of her corral.

Jommel comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

From the corrals, Silventh drains the first herdbeast and immediately
descends upon another one, which takes less than a second. THis is
-not- like the feeding grounds back home. Silventh bugles and
immediately begins blooding from this unlucky animal.

Nya shivers, "I can't... she's never been like this, ever..."

From the corrals, Rhonneth trumpets to the lovely gold, withdrawing
from /her/ area to find another victim. He lashes out at a flock f
frightened wherries and catches one neatly between his tooth-filled
jaws. With a sickening crack, the beast goes limp, dripping it's life
blood all over the grass.

From the corrals, Cevodnioth negligently tosses aside his first kill,
eyes whirling the color of the blood that dots his muzzle from his
first kill. He licks his muzzle clean with a hungry rumble, and with
the lithe speed of the small Istan bronze, pounces a nearby herdbeast,
crushing it under his considerable weight and opening it's throat with
a quick slash. He drinks, with urgent need.

L'tan turns on F'ren, obviously keyed up beyond tolerance, "Why
doesn't someone tell *him* to shut up then? This isn't even Fort's
sweep. She's our gold."

Shannen doesn't know most of these people, but she knows that Ph'lan
is actually making sense so she nodsnods at whatever it is he's
saying. "Lady Anya, is there someplace we can leave these riders while
Genneth rises?" she asks, approaching the Holder after a furtive and
skyward glance.

Anya thunders. "What is going on here?!?"

T'mren says, urgently," Nya, please, we've /got/ to get out of here."

Sonya steps away from the main bulk of riders, nearly backing into
T'bin. She shakes her head, laughing alittle. "Hush Pryth."

From the corrals, Sharath snarls back at the queen, and any suitors
nearby: indiscriminate uncertainty, unfair emotion. He hops up and
dives down, catches a sleek bay 'neath talons. Look, Anya. He killed
himself a /stallion./

Anya looks to Shannen. "Yes, anywhere but at my hold!"

Jesica blinks a bit and rests herself against Trisseth, "Looks like a
gold is rising." she then looks at Nya and hrms, a frown of concern on
her face.

T'bin sways, blinking at L'tan. The bronzerider's sharp words stops
T'bin's angry cursing, and he just looks at L'tan confusedly. When
Anya speaks up, he says softly, "Sorry...I'm...."

T'mren swallows with effort, "Lady Anya, it's too late for
that. There's no way we can get our dragons out of here now. All we
can do is get this over with as quickly as we can, and tto do that you
must show us to a room we can use during the flight."

Nya says hoarsely, "Shut -up-, do you want her to gorge?" It's not
clear if this is directed at others or at herself.

Jommel peers out, groaning at the sight.

Erissa turns to Anya, her voice controlled. "Ista's duties to Keroon
but I don't think anyone has a choice! Except to minimize the
damage. Do you have a room for them? And wine?"

E'vrin swallows, vicariously and for himself. He has enough presence
of mind to peer vaguely Anya's way -- oh, my -- and then at Nya --
rather, Genneth's rider. /Genneth./

--
Sharath> On a late summer morning, the first ray of sunshine beams
over the trees, kissing the lake with its light yet warm golden
hue. This, then, is the color of Genneth's hide: at the palest end of
the spectrum, her movements and shadows are reminiscent of the play of
sunshine through the dewdrops. Fully stretched out, she measures 41
metres, but she is more likely to be found curled in a sunspot or in
graceful motion. Her movements are well placed and sure: she is a
mature female, although around other dragons she occasionally
manifests the slightest recalcitrance, a touch of the virgin.
--

F'ren just chuckles at the words of the former Ista Weyrleader before
turning his attention back to the dragons.

Leya comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

From the corrals, Habrith reaches out and picks off another
stallion. He shakes the creature by the neck - the snap of its spine
is audible as it flops limply in the bronze's grasp.

Trying to remember to be polite, Shannen hedges, "I'm sorry, Lady, but
there are no other options. You MUST let them inside." She gestures
through the gates toward the outline of the Hold, frowning rather
deeply. "They're already blooding their kill, Lady. It's too late to
leave."

Anya grabs the stablehand by the sleeve and shoves him towards the
corral. She does the say to another nearby rider. "Stop this
slaughter! My stocks are not for dragon food!" Obviously neither is
too keen to try and follow the order.

From the corrals, Genneth begins to feed on the buck indiscriminately,
until she suddenly freezes. She screams on a note of protest, the
sound flowing out shrilly across the valley, as she refuses her
rider's will.

Br'mar looks completely at a loss at this happening at such an
unfamiliar place. He can only keep his concentration on his dragon at
the moment, kneeling to the ground less than a meter from the corral.

Divya tells Leya, "Looks like we've got a goldflight on our hands. Do
you know a safe place where we can watch the dragons?"

Tika comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

From the corrals, Zyrieth rises up again and quickly fells another
frightened beast. Within seconds, he lands and drinks deeply of its
lifeblood.

T'saren gives Lady Anya an apologetic shrug. "Rather hard to stop a
gold from rising," he comments. "And when they rise, they and the
males blood." Never mind what critter his own lifemate just claimed a
short while ago. He'll probably be paying for it for a Turn.

Sonya sighs at all the riders. She pushes at T'bin, trying to clear
the Weyrleaders head. To Anya she hollers over. "It's too late!"
Sonya has disconnected.

Daniel comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

Ph'lan gives up trying to drag Nya inside. Instead, he heads over to
Anya, looking quite angry at her yelling--it's just going to make
matters worse, "There's nothing that can be done." He says rather
testily, "Genneth is rising and that's that." His tone is
matter-of-fact.

From the corrals, Sharath laps his tongue through the ragged throat of
his own dead stallion -- eyeing Habrith now, most definitely -- and
then leaps away and over, a spit of pale bronze, to splash onto a
third beast, this one a mare. He kills her, bloods her, while her foal
squeals and shies, baby eyes so big and dark.

From the corrals, Zyanth :flicks out a foreclaw, snagging a panicked
beast. Its blood spilling out, he buries his muzzle into the opened
belly and drinks.

R'lym nods in agreement, "Too late, definately! Of all the
irresponsible things...." he scowls, but his attention is again drawn
toward the scene in the corrals.

Shannen takes a few steps after the stablehand, a hand on his shoulder
to stay his departure. "No, Lady. I think that's a bad idea. I'm sure
the Weyr is sorry for your stock. These people," she indicates dazed
riders collectively, "need someplace private. Now, please."

Erissa looking between Shannen and Sonya she raises her voice. "There
should be somewhere in the Hold, can we get them inside and sort it
out there?"

Sonya has connected.

Anya gestures angrily towards the stables. "Unless of course you think
my private apartments would suit you better," she spits out.

Confusion reigns, several riders pushing each other nearly at each
other's throats allready.

Blood slowly starts seeping through T'bin's fine hair, now visible
through the blond white. He is pushed where Sonya leads.

From the corrals, Rhonneth hisses at a young bronze too close to
him. He drops the wherry's dry body, lashing out again to catch his
second stallion. The death is so quick, the animal doesn't even know
he's caught.

Dragon> Flight sense that Genneth's thoughts are beyond anger; fury at
her rider, the lust to gorge boiling through her redly.

Tika walks out onto the ramp, and shivers as she watches the
blooding. "Shards... I'm glad I put Sunset in the stable..."

Jommel stays near the gates, staying out of the turmoil.

Kalthanan comes through the archway to join you on the Ramp.

From the corrals, Silventh tosses away the herdbeast and immediately
pounces on a third, against the very vocal objections form his rider
just outside the corral.

Shannen nodsnods most adamently at Anya's next words, her eyes drawn
repeatedly back toward the stables. "I think those apartments would do
very well, Lady," she comments, lower lip chewed at a bit. This is
definitely not a Good Thing.

From the corrals, Zyanth settles back on his haunches, the drained
herdbeast lying at his feet. Lifting his head he roars his challenge
to the others.

Jesica moves over to Shannen, trying to stay out of the mess, "Maybe a
gather tent that could be used? or some private room in the hold,
Shannen?" she says as she stands near her friend, a bit uncertainly.

Leya shakes her head at Divya. "I have no idea where we should go.",
then looks over toward Tika. "Yeah, I think that's where the riders
are going to be."

Divya looks over at Kal and says, "If those Riders have to pay for the
beasts their dragons are killing, they'll be in debt for the rest of
their lives."

Sonya shakes her head as she regards the general confusion. She tries
to catch Ph'lan's eye, another rational person here. "I think we
should use an empty tent." she suggests.

Nya digs the nails of her right hand into T'mren's sleeve and groans
faintly.

Anya looks in utter disbelief at Shannen. "Bad enough they destroyed
my stock. /Again/ They will not be sulling my rooms. What is in that
tent," she points.

From the corrals, Solarith polishes off the breeding stallion's blood,
then snakes his head around to hiss at a brown that comes too close to
him. That warning given, the big bronze chases down another stampeding
critter, this time a nice, juicy mare that's rearing at the fence as
if she's trying to climb it.

From the corrals, Cevodnioth lets his second kill fly over his
shoulder to land in a heap on the ground, scaring several more beasts
out of the way. They don't make it though. At least, one of them
doesn't. Cev trips a beast with his head, slamming it into the fence,
and then straddling it, drinking from the animal while it still lives,
thrashing and squealing violently.

T'mren tries to pat Nya's sleeve absently, vacant eyes drifting from
her to the gold to his bronze and back again.

E'vrin has drifted in the direction of Genneth's rider by now,
lodestone that she is in the hooraw. Biting his lip, he flicks a look
at her, at the corral, and bronze peers faintly through his eyes: hmm.

Ph'lan looks over to Shannen, "Let's round everyone up," He shouts
over the commotion. Waving a hand toward Sonya, he yells over to her,
"Sonya, lend a hand...A tent. Good idea." He runs over to the tent
Sonya mentioned and looks inside.

Daniel tries to stick close to Leya, eventually catching hold of her
sleeve, "Do you have any idea on what we should be doing?" he asks.

From the corrals, Habrith snakes his head out and snarls at a brown
which he perceives to be in his territory. He clobbers another runner
and then instead of feeding from it flings the beast towards the
brown.

Erissa glances at the carnage and carcasses in the corral and
shudders. Turning she moves nearer to Nya. "Come on Nya, there is a
tent over there that has been graciously set aside for you."

From the corrals, Genneth shudders, and brings her head down. Tail
slashes back and forth, her back tense. Then, she acquieses and
fastens muzzle to throat, draining the beast. Next, she fells a mare.

Kalthanan looks at Divya then quickly to the pens. He frowns a
bit. "Well, that'll be between Ista and Keroon to work out."

Tika walks over to Leya and whispers in her ear.

From the corrals, Ashroth bellows in anger, his eyes swirling red
violet as he settles on a second beast to drain. His snakey neck
setttles down to feed, the blood tinging his muzzle.

Nya exhales and lets go her death grip, "I did it."

Shannen got a better reply, anyway, so she nodsnods again. "An empty
tent would probably work as well. Just somewhere, please, Lady." Her
tone is remarkably calm, though she's obviously concerned about this
situation. "Is it empty?" she calls after Ph'lan - who she can almost
tolerate now that she HAS to.

Sonya raises a hand to indicate she's heard Ph'lan. She grabs a nearby
Bronzrider and pushes him towards the tent before grabbing T'bin's
arm, ready to lead him to it as well.

From the corrals, Rhonneth looks up from his meal, hissing at Habrith
now as the runner body hits his flank. He backs away from the crowd,
just watching Genneth now, his bloodthirst sated.

Tika mutters to Leya, "... supposed... Has... like..."

Divya has disconnected.

From the corrals, Sharath arches spine and wings with the same sensual
surrender to blood rush, which pins his talons to the ground, an
unnecessary cage for his last kill, now anchoring him as he spreads
pinions, lowers belly to ground, and watches her. Watches
her. Hungrily.

From the corrals, Silventh doesn't completely drain the third,
listening to his rider for the first time tonight, it seems. He
backwings and seems to eye the glowing gold, not really intently but
almost .. appraisingly.

Nya adds, a sob in her throat, "I don't -want- to do this."

T'saren stands silent now that's he's out of words of wisdom for Lady
Anja, and getting rather caught up in his lifemate's bloody feast in
the corral. When Sonya grabs him and gives him a shove, he recalls
where he is and nods. "I'm going, I'm going."

T'mren squeezes Nya's hand gently, "You must. Be strong, Nya! It'll be
over with soon!"

L'tan just gives in, "Bloody idiocy. T'bin, you're going to be living
this down for turns." He heads for the indicated tent.
L'tan enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.

T'bin's breath is quick and he looks around him in horror and
confusion before Sonya all but shoves him in the tent.

T'saren enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.

Dazed or not, Shannen is not going to touch any of these riders. She
stays near Jesica and the Lady Holder, watching them rounded up by the
others. Almost charitably, she calls toward poor Nya, "It's not so bad
as all that, don't cry!"

Melina enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.

Anya looks around for her stablemaster. "I want an exact accounting of
what has been destroyed here."

Jesica moves with Shannen, to help move the confused riders along, "We
need to get them somewhere, soon Shannen." she says as she helps a few
brownriders over to the tent.

T'bin enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.
F'ren enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.

Leya breaks her eyes away from the awful sight, looking at both Tika
and Daniel. "I have no idea what we should do. This is awful..."

T'mren tugs on Nya's hand gently, helping her into the tent.
T'mren enters the empty tent, sending up a light spray of dust.

Jommel watches the confusion, muttering quietly.

Br'mar looks up and, once Silventh is done blooding, sees the crowd of
riders walk into the tent and follows.

Ph'lan disappears into the tent and tosses out a few items not
recognizable from so far away, and exists waving his hands to Shannen
and Sonya, "Over here! It's empty now!" He pushes some bronze riders
toward the tent and grabs a brown rider or two on the way. Just like
cattle.

--
Empty Tent
The inside of the tent is dusty, with cobwebs hanging from the walls
and the odd dead leaf. A pile of tarps and wagon cover cloths has been
piled in the middle, against the centre pole of the tent.
Contents:
T'mren
F'ren
T'bin
Melina
T'saren
L'tan(#8525POVcem)
--

Br'mar comes in from outside.

Nya comes in from outside.
Nya says in a moment of clarity, "A /tent/..."

T'saren looks at the pile of tarps consideringly, then shakes his head
and goes to stand against the far wall of the tent, muttering
something below his breath about bronzes, golds, and being a rider
with a day off.

E'vrin pushes through, inside at dusty length, and coughs again. Then
... too many bodies! He sidles around the circumference to press
himself to canvas, shivering, waiting, blank eyes on Genneth's rider
(or is it the central pole?).

Br'mar walks into the tent and simply breaks out into laughter. "Yes,
Keroon, dear. We'll have fun," he says in a mocking voice.

T'mren staggers in with Nya, but lets go of her sleeve, standing as
close to her as he can manage in the suddenly crowded tent. His dark
eyes fix on her, and he licks his lips.

Sharath> Solarith leaves the dead mare still half full of blood, then
turns his attention to licking his talons and muzzle clean while one
whirling violet eye is kept fastened on the gold that could take to
the air at any time.

L'tan overhears Nya's comment and chooses to fire off one at her,
"Well, sweets, if you'd done what you should have and kept Genneth at
Ista we could have done this in your own weyr. And I wouldn't have
been there and wouldn't have been part of this sharding circus."

Sharath> Ashroth spreads rippled bronze wings of great length to match
his slender body. He crouches over his last pray, eyes fixed on
Genneth like a runner with his eye on the prize.

Sharath> Sharath shivers his wings out a touch farther, sinks a breath
lower.

Nya starts to tremble from deep within, and she sits down on the pile
of tarps, squirming back until she hits the pole. Her expression is
rather like a deer before it's shot.

Oh, good: E'vrin /was/ staring at the pole, but since she moved by it,
now he can stare at both. Sublimity, amid the dust and the muffled
gore outside.

Br'mar keeps muttering to himself and finds a place to sit down and
lean his back up against a table, sitting cross-legged on the floor
and waiting for things to get going.

F'ren shrugs the flightstraps he's carrying off his shoulder and lets
them land beside him. Taking a deep breath he slowly lets it out as he
closes his eyes.

Sharath> Genneth tosses the empty carcass aside, her hide brightening
a shade. With celerity, she dispatches a third beast, holding it
midair to drain it. Her hide seems to pulse, or the muscles beneath.

Melina's legs give way under her as soon as she is sufficiently in the
tent. She sits heavily down on the ground, watching Nya passively.

Sharath> Ashroth shifts his wings restlessly, still bound by the
flightstraps from the mock threadfall not ten minutes before.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath dares a touch, like a finger held
up to flame. Does she go? Is it time? (Ichor pounds within the dark
caverns of his body, shoots light through the restless rivers of his
mind.)

T'mren stands rigidly near the entrance to the tent, his eyes never
leaving the goldrider now, blinking occasoinally.

Sharath> Solarith finishes his clean-up chores and crouches,
half-spreading his immense wings as he turns both eyes to the one that
will call the shots tonight - Genneth.

Sharath> Genneth stretches her wings, arching her neck, and emits a
loud note: triumph

Sharath> Cevodnioth licks his lips slowly, consideringly, his muscles
flexing beneath burnished bronze hide. his eyes never stray from the
glowing golden form of Genneth as he waits, patiently, for her to
rise.

Sharath> Zyrieth tosses the last of the runners he blooded aside and
lifts his head in a huge ROAR of challenge and anticipation. He furls
and unfurls his wings, flexing muxcles, waiting on the glowing queen

Sharath> Genneth holds the note - the moment of self discovery, of
power. She -is- gold, and has wings - and will now... fly!
Sharath> Genneth spreads her wings and takes flight!

L'tan turns away from Nya, disgusted. He finds an empty piece of floor
and sits on it.

Sharath> Habrith spreads his wings and takes flight!
Sharath> Silventh spreads his wings and takes flight!
Sharath> Solarith spreads his wings and takes flight!

Sharath> Sharath shivers, whole-body -- and goes!

Sharath> Rhonneth spreads his wings and takes flight!
Sharath> Zyrieth spreads his wings and takes flight!
Sharath> Zyanth spreads his wings and takes flight!

Sharath> You spread your wings and take flight!

Sharath> Cevodnioth wings up from the feeding grounds.

T'bin stumbles, or is propelled, into the tent, trips over a shovel,
and falls to his knees. He remains in that kneeling position, his head
down, and resting his hands on his knees.

Sharath> Silventh gets a quick jump from the ground, intent on
starting off well, climbing as high as possible in a short amount of
time.

Sharath> Ashroth wings up from the feeding grounds.

Sharath> Zyrieth pumps his wings hard to gain speed and altitude as
quickly as he can manage. Great bronze wings pull huge amounts of air,
liftin him higher, higher after the lovely fleeing prize.

F'ren murmers, "And now he's into the middle of another Istan
formation." as he stands stock still, eyes still closed.

E'vrin hisses a breath through teeth that shudder and shatter it, and
rolls his head back into the tent wall's flapping embrace.

T'saren's hands clench briefly at his sides, then he exhales in a
long, drawn out sigh and shakes himself to loosen up. "Well, here we
go," he mutters. "Be nice to get this over with quickly so I can
actually *see* the gather."

Sharath> Cevodnioth gives a vigorous snap of his wings and is airborn!
His lithe bronze form sails upwards, tail flashing behind him as his
form rises rapidly. Bronze strength and power make up for speed, he'll
no doubt be hoping, as he rises after Genneth.

Sharath> Habrith springs into the air, bronze hide sliding smoothly
over flexing muscles. His leap places him solidly in the middle of the
pack of straining browns and bronzes, all who have the same goal in
sight - the fair and glorious Genneth - a virgin and untried gold.

Sharath> Ashroth bursts into the sky like a firework from Smithcraft,
spiralling him up into the air. At the top of his ascent, his wings
fully unfurl and he levels off as he begins the chase.

R'lym comes in from outside.
R'lym wraps his hands tightly about himself, his concentration
elsewhere.

Sharath> Genneth motions are joyful, her wings pushing with strength
and assurance. The sky beckons, and she trills, eager to join them
high above. She ignores the dark shapes beneath her - they are
insignificant - the moons are her lovers.

Sharath> Sharath streaks a bowshot's pure path at the target,
shredding others' night-shadows in his pale rise. Up, up -- up! The
first downsweep, then the next galloping wingstrokes, and he's within
the pack now, striving in the hunt.

Sharath> Solarith shots into the air like an arrow loosed from a bow,
flinging up a cloud of dust as he does so. And like an arrow, he has
only one goal, to streak across the sky and claim this lovely token
that's presented herself tonight, like a gather prize.

Sharath> Rhonneth rises after the lovely, shining gold, his wingbeats
strong and sure as he keeps pace with the pack. Genneth is his flame,
the power behind his muscles, the foce that beats his heart. It is she
he strives toward like a moth drawn to the light.

Sharath> Zyanth climbs easily, sliding slightly to his left in an
effort to keep clear air ahead of himself. A low rumble is all that
might be heard coming from his throat.

Sharath> Cevodnioth continues vigorously pumping strong bronze wings
that flash against the sky, his form cleaving the air before him as he
hurtles upwards after her. Conserving his vast storehouse of bronze
strength, he rises with considered, careful expenditure of his energy,
but fast enough never to lose sight of his glowing golden prize.

Nya reaches up behind herself to hold onto the pole, "She's... oh,
Genn." Everyone else, apparently, is for the moment forgotten.

Sharath> If the moons are Genneth's lovers, then Habrith is a
suplicant to her. She belongs with the moons, another stunning object
in the heavens. As bright and life-giving as the sun. As comforting as
the starlight on the calm waters of a endlessly deep lake in the
desert.

E'vrin licks his lips. Squints across the tent. Returns to staring at
the central pole -- Nya -- something.

Sharath> Silventh wings higher into the night sky, keeping his sights
on the rising Genneth as the increasing effort coming from his wings
gives him good speed. The chase for him is not furious,
however.. there's a controlled feeling about the whole thing to
Silventh.

Sharath> Zyrieth continues to fly hard and strong, rising quickly and
gaining momentum. His wings beat hard, great muscles ripling beneath
his bronze hide. Sensing a thermal he spreads his wings and sails up
high into the night sky.

F'ren's shoulders seem to rock forward for a moment and then become
still.

Although half the tent's population seems to be intent on staring at
the center pole, T'saren's eyes are happy to be focused on Nya. He
gazes at her unabashedly, running his line of sight up and down her
form.

Sharath> Ashroth doesn't seem his normal, steady self, instead making
odd breaks to the right, and vocalizing more than the bronze is want
to do in painful bugles as his wings strain towards the gold. The
night lights ripple across his hide as though reflected in a deep,
broad river, reflecting the sky.

T'mren's eyes lock to Nya's form, trying to catch her eyes and
failing. Instead, he settles for staring at her steadily.

Sharath> Genneth is flame itself, her motions liquid. She trills
joyfully, catching a downward current to swoops lower, then veer up
with a burst of heat and motion.

Sharath> Sharath has no comfort complaisant within his narrow, nimble
frame; no rest. His flight is a challenge: if the moons want her,
they'll have to fight him for her! Starlight washes down working
muscles, splashes off the curve of twisting tail, and he pushes
higher, tracing her goldfire wake with afterimage's patience.

Melina's distant eyes make no contact on any one form but
Nya's. Something keeps her from letting her eyes rest too long on the
woman's form and keeps her silently rocking in place.

Sharath> Silventh gives Genneth a bugle in response and continues to
wing higher, climbing in a seemingly unexperienced strategy to catch
the rising gold early in her chase.

Sharath> Yes, she is the flame that the moth that is Rhonneth flies
to, adores, worships. She is his Ra, his Apollo. She is his
everything. She is what keeps him flying. She is what fills his ichor
and completes him. For her, he would fly a million klicks just to
reach her, to touch her, to be with her.

Sharath> Cevodnioth ripples muscles along his shoulder and broad
powerful chest as his wings work the air unceasingly, finding a
helpful thermal to lift him somewhat. He never falters, refusing to
slow (at least, not this early) as he rises after Genneth, eating
patiently at the distance between his imagination and reality, the
achievement of his goal.

Nya quotes softly, "Into the golden vessel of great song / Let us pour
all our passion"

Sharath> Habrith's contemplation upon Genneth's position in the
heavens is broken when a brown jogs directly into his path. The Istan
bronze has to check his forward motion and drops out of the bottom of
the pack. He's lost ground on Genneth but his flight is now unimpeded.

Sharath> Zyrieth flies true and strong, working slowly for a position
above the lovely Genneth, striving for a chance at the glowing, lovely
prize.

Sharath> Zyanth rises higher on wings moved by massive shoulder
muscles. It's a calm movement, not hurried, though his gaze is fixed
upon the soaring gold.

Harper's ears twitch; E'vrin's gaze flinches, then fixes on her -- not
the pole -- for an incredulous, hungry moment.

Sharath> Solarith keeps on a steady line of flight, not going through
the acrobatics the sunrise gold is partaking of. If she is flame, he
is the burning embers that flame produces, rising on the waves of
lusty heat the sight of her golden glow in the air produces in him.

Sharath> Genneth is golden against a black cloud, her wingspan catches
the light to shimmer for a moment, then she flirts with the
moon-lovers to duck into the cloud, disappearing from sight.

A thin trickle of blood trickles down T'bin's forehead and down his
left eyelid. He makes no effort to wipe it away as it catches on his
eyelashes and trickles towards the corner of his eye.

Sharath> Sharath sheathes himself thereby. A cloud? No problem. Into
the mist he plunges, reckless with youth and ichor's heady pulse, with
his tail flipping at the last before sight loses him.

Sharath> Cevodnioth doesn't even slow as he arrows after Gennth
towards the cloud and into it. He will not lose sight of her even in a
cloud! He steers straight and true, hoping to see her more clearly
when she leaves the cloud.

Sharath> Amethyst eyes remain fixed on his flame, Rhonneth's guiding
light. Up he goes then as she dives, so does he. He blindly plunges
into the inky darkness of the cloud below, his bugle a foghorn,
searching for the light to guide his way to safety and happiness once
more.

Sharath> Zyrieth continues to fly straight and high - neverminding the
Gold's antics and tricks. He'll have plenty of reserve energy when she
tires. He roars his challenge again and continues his chase.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath's body may be mist-wrapped --
rapt? -- but his mind's wholly /not,/ and cleaves cleanly through
aether's randy fog to seek that golden spar, the glittering vestial
one. Where?

Sharath> Silventh rumbles and makes his way, not through the cloud,
but above it, winging in a maneuver tactically designed to catch the
gold as she emerges from it.

Sharath> A shriek of surprise, and then a note of challenge! Genneth
emerges, suddenly aware of the chase. Her entire being fills with a
single mood: never you! She darts eastwards, away from the last rays
of the sun, away from the pack that has dared follow -her-!

Sharath> Zyanth fans the air more powerfully now, angling over to his
left even more. In a moment he's off to one side of the cloud and
climbing higher, though completely clear of the cloud.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Genneth hides her thoughts - never - never
is all that emerges.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath cascades wild, merry
assurance. No? --And hunts!

Sharath> Ashroth skims the top of the cloud-- the mists are sliced in
twain as they slip over and underneath his long wings, trailing behind
him in twin streamers that trail off into the night. He skips over the
surface of the cloud four times before Genneth emerges. He sees her
leave, and twists to follow.

Sharath> Habrith's wings cut through the evening air. He's silent as
he inches higher and higher, back towards the pack. Now that he's free
of the unwanted company of the other bronze and browns, he's managed
to gain ground if not height and he has a better view of Genneth -
which is not only useful but pleasing to his sensibilities.

Sharath> Zyrieth quickly banks to correct his flight to follow
Genneth's eastward turn. Still, he remains high above, flying hard and
waiting patiently for his "Golden" opportuniry.

Sharath> Solarith slips on through the sky, never indecisive as
Genneth disappears from sight for the moment. He follows her willingly
into the misty puff, and out of it again on the other side. The dying
sun's light illuminates his target - her rump - so well from this
angle, and after it he wings, sails crackling as they fill with air
and release it.

Nya gasps, blinking. She eyes L'tan... then she looks to T'bin. She
whimpers and drops her hands and her head onto her knees.

R'lym gasps for no apparent reason, then relaxes again, somewhat. His
attention clearly not on anythin in the tent.

Sharath> Rhonneth catches the light tone of Genneth's lilting
song. Her shriek guides him from the depths of the damp cloud and
toward her. Her gold form fills his faceted eyes once more, and he
doubles his efforts, muscles moving smoothly like warm klah under his
smooth hide.

Sharath> Silventh banks lower and eastword, tips of his wing spraying
wisps of the cloud as he starts to dip into his energy reserve,
pumping wings to make his move to catch Genneth, unaware.

Sharath> Sharath heaves himself into the wind with proud head cutting
the wake like a ship's prow. Cloud falls behind, gold gleams ahead:
through and throughout all, he'll catch her yet. Angling higher on a
helpful thermal, he tilts into free flight on a curving arc, and nary
a whimper in the steady beat of his wings.

L'tan isn't paying attention to Nya. In fact on his list of 'places
I'd like to be' this tent has to be just about last. Right above
drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Sharath> Cevodnioth puts on speed now, his wings flexing vigorously
and pounding the air as Genneth increases her own speed. He makes no
sound as he chases eastward after her. The chase is truly on, now that
she is determined to get away, and he persues with an equal
determination to see that she does not escape!

T'saren grimaces as Nya's head drops to her knees, but catches himself
before he can take more than a half-step to her, hand held out in
impotent, and likely unnoticed, comfort.

The tent is stuffy, the dust in the air chokes one , in bits, like a
slow strangulation.

E'vrin bites his lip again, belated blooding. He has no comfort to
give, not when arms are wrapped orangely around torso, and quivers
chase themselves up and down, down and up, his stiff body.

T'mren regards Nya with a flash of sympathy, while he can force his
mind out of his dragon's, but he doesn't move towards her. This isn't
the time.

Melina murmers under her breath, whether in protest to the aweful,
stuffy tent or in encouragement to her Rhonneth, one will never
know. She lets her eyes flicker to Nya a moment and winces in
sympathy, making no move to comfort her at all.

Br'mar's eyes get wide as realization hits the young rider, sensing
just what Silventh is doing.

Sharath> Get away? Why would she want to get away? Habrith begins to
croon - a quiet sound which is likely unnoticed by the fleeing
queen. His song is one of comfort, love, and support. Come back to me
and I will support you. Come back to me and we will face this life
together. Come back to me and we will be one.

Sharath> Zyanth settles down to the chase now, flying at the same
altitude as Genneth. Working hard, he's maintaining his distance, the
only sound that of wind rushing past.

If there was one expression on T'bin's face, sick horror would be
it. He's pale and the blood has reached his cheek. But it is more than
that which contributes to his look. In his expression, it is clear
that what he has tried to work for has been destroyed already, and not
only is he helpless to stop it, he's part of it.

Sharath> Ashroth strains his way through the pack, eyes swirling
violet and red. His lithe form weaves in and out of the other dragons,
smaller and larger, and he strains after the shining gold with all his
might. But it seems like more than night air is holding him up in this
flight, and his tail lashes angrily as he rips his way foreward.

Sharath> Genneth glances back. She falters for a moment, catching
tendrils of thoughts. Her muscles work hard as she rejects them
soundly, a burst of speed. Then, she folds her wings to drop several
dragon lengths, below the brown that would shadow her path.

Sharath> Cevodnioth hopes Genneth's reading thoughts, because his are
likely along the lines of: gosh, aren't you tired yet? Just in case
she isn't, he's pushing towards her with extra speed now, calling on
those strong bronze reserves to get him through the thick of this
flight. Even a bronze must tire though, but he's young yet. Tail
flashing behind him, Cevodnioth continues cleaving the air before him
as he makes his way towards Genneth. She'll falter, and he'll be there
when she does.

Sharath> Down, down, come down, my sweet. Habrith is now at an even
level with Genneth. Her seeming acceptance of his poetic sendings
spurs him on. He redoubles his effort to come to her, a flash of
bronze across the evening sky.

Sharath> Zyrieth folds his wings to match Genneth's drop but only
that. He maintains his altitude and, breaking out of the shallow dive,
continues to beats his wings furiously keeping up with the "pack" and
more importantly, the lovely Gold.

Sharath> Sharath snaps wings out, but momentum wins, and he carries
past Genneth, not diving, not dropping, but continuing helplessly
along his high arc: a leaf in the river of night. Swirling about
furiously, he eels past Cevodnioth to whip once more her way.

Sharath> Rhonneth bugles in suprise, quickly adapting to the new
flight path. He angles his wings sharply, flying at a sharp angle to
catch up with the fire that burns his soul. He reaches toward her like
an old man trying to soak up the warmth from a fire. His talons twitch
spasmotically with the effort of just trying to get closer to her, to
touch that warm, soft hide.

Sharath> Zyanth increases his pace, flying faster now. He does't
decend as Ginneth does, but closes until he is directly
overhead. Dipping a wingtip he circles.

Sharath> Silventh chooses this moment to make his move. He furls his
wings into a power dive, swooping faster and faster as he descends
like a fighter from the sky, heading straight for the leading
Gwenneth.

E'vrin chokes a frustrated noise and snaps his head, shaking it as the
rest of him still. Slitted eyes pin on Genneth's rider: so.

Sharath> Solarith stays on his course as Genneth drops through the
skies. What goes down, must come up, or something like that, and so he
is content to wait for that moment when she rises again. He keeps to
an even pace, slipping through the atmosphere like a lover. And so he
is, for if that beautiful shimmer of gold below decides to come up to
his level again, he will show her how good of a lover he can be.

Sharath> Genneth struggles against a current that would take her
towards Habrith. With a cry she breaks free, her wing motions frantic
until she regains her equilibrium. Gone is the joy of flight, fading
with her luminscence. She goes up, unaware of Solarith at first.

Br'mar jumps up from his seat on the ground and, with a look back at
Nya, tenses up quickly in a straight-standing position.

Sharath> Silventh zooms past the slowing Genneth - and the rest of the
dragons - and instead, keeps gliding down towards the ground, out of
the chase.

Sharath> Ashroth plummets, coming dangerously near Habrith as he does
so. He dips his wing to the side and arcs aaway from him to avoid
missing him, and levels off, twisting this way and that on the course
towards the flashing gold.

T'saren pushes a lock of damp hair from his eyes, taking his eyes from
Nya long enough to glance at his hand, seemingly surprised it's
covered in sweat from the strands he just brushed aside.

Br'mar springs from his tense position and runs out to the tent.

Sharath> Rhonneth snorts as he adjusts yet again to the flickering,
darting flame before him. He strives onward, tail whipping wildly. How
bright she burns, how she dispells the shadows and darkness around
her. Surely Rukbat must pale in jealousy to her.

Sharath> Sharath, already high from the failure to dive, presses his
unexpected advantage. Joy in flight, or joy in capture -- well, let's
try it. Swift slaps of air bring him closer, just past Ashroth's
plummet, and he poises, peering, with the jesses of neck and tail
curving.

Sharath> Habrith bugles out his frustration as Genneth is seemingly
offered and then torn from his grasp by the winds of fate. What is
given can be so easily taken away. He angles his wings and follows her
up. Ashroth gains not even a glance as he flashes past.

Sharath> Zyanth now drops out of his circling, wings folded back he
begins angling towards Genneth, wingtips moving to adjust his course
as he speeds forward.

Sharath> Cevodnioth didn't drop when the others did, he just kept
shadowing Genneth's path from above. Now that what went down comes up
again, he heads towards her stubbornly, passing a nearby bronze from
another weyr on his way towards her, snapping his wings vigorously,
growing almost angry with need as he closes on her. He's not that
close, but closer he gets with each ounce of energy he expends to push
himself through the sky, inexorably in her direction.

Br'mar opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Silventh angles north, towards the ramp.

Nya holds onto her ankles with her hands, "No... no," she says
quietly, "It's wrong."

T'mren gulps softly, "It'll...all be over soon, Nya."

Fresh air! E'vrin takes it at a gulp and clears enough to stare, human
a moment, at Genn--Nya. "Why?"

Sharath> Zyrieth roars as he sees several of the males nearing the
golden prize! He beats his wings hard, increasing speed as he prepars
to dive directly into the pack, directly toward the glowing Genneth.

F'ren 's feet move slightly, though it's more a shifing from foot to
foot. He doesn't move from where he's stood the entire time.

L'tan mumbles a curse under his breath, "Sharding bronze." You decide
which one he's talking about.

Sharath> Solarith can't contain himself as the gleaming loveliness
that is Genneth seems oblivious to his presence as she comes soaring
back up on what seems to be collision course with him. He lets out a
ringing bugle that must be able to be heard back at his home Weyr of
Telgar and shoots forward, hoping to ensnare her before she has time
to blink thrice.

Sharath> Genneth shrieks at the bugle, as she realizes her path is
crossing Solarith's. She finds a space towards open sky and bursts
towards it, evading the Telgar bronze with a bright display of
power. She heads for Timor, for bright white safety.

Nya shakes her head, "I - can't." She shakes her head, breaking
contact with her lifemate.

T'saren draws in a breath as the doorflap is opened, letting his hand
drop back to his side and returning his attention to the junior
weyrwoman. A sudden growl comes from his throat and he balls his hand
into a fist again. "So close..."

Blood seeps into the corner of T'bin's mouth, having found its way
down his cheek. He says softly, with a strained, unsteady voice,
"Please...."

T'mren gulps, "Sure you can Nya. YOu can do it. Just..try!"

Sharath> Sharath hangs pale enough to rival Timor -- oh, but she wants
more flight. Up and away again, the desert bronze flashes forth, muted
and all the more careful now. Higher, shadowing her, bronze to gold
and wings to enfold--

Sharath> Cevodnioth tilts his wings slightly to give himself a bit of
a lift as Genneth sails off. His path dogs hers with an intense
determination, unshakeable as a canine with a bone in its mouth as he
persues her, gaining with strong, sweeping motions of his wings.

Sharath> Habrith croons again, his mental voice in concert with his
physical voice. He again offers Genneth everything that he has -
including safety, supported in the caress of bronze wings.

Sharath> Zyrieth follows Genneth's Flight yet again, glad for his
increased speed, yet delaying his planned dive. She will tire and he
will be there, ready, waiting, string. He TRUMPETS in anticipation!

"Can," E'vrin breathes before a twist of bronze carries him away
again.

Sharath> Rhonneth lowers his head as his flame darts once more in the
impending darkness. His muscles strain as he strives to be with her
once more. Never loosing her golden light against Timor's pale
blinding glory. His wingbeats become rhythmic and measured, fanning
the flame before him and fueling his waning power. Only the thought of
being with her powers him further and faster then ever before.

Sharath> Zyanth swings out of his dive, arcing upwards now as he's
below Genneth, using his built up speed to close the distance with the
the fleeing glod.

Sharath> Solarith crosses Genneth's path just a fraction of a breath
too late, and his seeking tail encounters only empty air. With a
grumble of frustrated desire, the Telgar bronze dips a wingtip and
continues the chase up towards the round object that vainly attempts
to rival the gold for brightest glow in the heavens.

Nya shakes her head, "I never wanted this..." she looks at T'saren and
shudders.

Sharath> Ashroth cuts down and across, a little puffy cloud being
shreded as he passes through it, pulling apart against his slender
torso. His tail lashes back and forth like a fishing line being cast,
and his neck is strained taut with the effort of his flight.

Sharath> Genneth labors frantically, her motions erratic
Sharath> Genneth suggests - escape at all costs. Her flame becomes all
consuming fear of the dark shadows that inhabit her sky, her hide
starting to dull.

T'saren nods his agreement with Nya's comment. "A maiden flight is
never wanted," he murmurs consolingly, and amazingly coherantly. "It
just happens." He tries to manage a wan smile, but all that comes to
his lips is a lust-filled leer.

Sharath> Cevodnioth reaches for Genneth as he closes in on her, tail
twitching and wings reaching for her. He's getting close, nearly close
enough to grab now!

Sharath> Zyriethprepares to dive as he sees Genneth falter! She is
tiring, he is strong! It will be a wonderful union! He roars as he
folds his wings for the dive.

Sharath> Zyanth settles in to a postion off to Genneth's left side,
about a dragonlength away, a low croon now escapes his throat.

Nya shakes her head, and stands up.

Sharath> Sharath is pushing fair to his bounds, himself, but while he
can, he pushes straight and smooth under the wash of moonslight -- and
the sudden flare of fearful fire. Gold beats off desert bronze, sun on
shadow, and he presses into that light, willful and joyful with
incipient immolation.

Sharath> Rhonneth pushes against the burning in his limbs to quell the
burning in his heart. He strains against the weary muscles and erratic
thermals, his talons streatched out to try to touch her body. To brush
against her hide, possibly to draw her near to his body, would sooth
the savage beast. He strains behind and a little above the gold, ready
to descend upon her at a moment's notice.

E'vrin blinks and adjusts his head. The pole moved. --Oh.

Sharath> Habrith continues his approach from below. If he can just get
under her, he could foul her wings and support her through this - a
difficult time in any gold's life let alone a time so unpredicted and
unsought for.

Melina has disconnected.

Sharath> Solarith sees that the shining beacon that's drawing him on
appears to be tiring and dredges up a burst of speed from somewhere
deep inside him. With the sight of her dimming hide to spur him on, he
flings himself after her with reckless abandon, pulling into a flight
path that puts him on a course just below hers, ready and waiting for
her to falter enough to lose height.

L'tan grumbles under his breath, trying to talk his bronze out of this
entire mess, "You'll never get her. Just give up now, would you. We
can go home. Neith's there."

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath's thoughts fleet far ahead,
towards gilded vestibule, and they tangle with each other, but they're
bright, so bright, against the fearful shadows of night.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Genneth is all consumed with fear - fear
and loss - her rider - the night -

R'lym's concentration on the scene outside intensifies. He leans
slightly against the side of the tent.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath blazes light -- light!
Crystalline fire, roseate and aureate, with the thread of his rider's
mind caught safe, unburning, in the flames. /Can/ hold them, /won't/
drop them -- humans and dragons, riders and lovers -- one on one on
one on ... one.

Sharath> Ashroth has given heart and soul and strength. He hasn't got
any shining expressions of devotions in his body language or his
bugle. All he has left for this flight is dogged determination and his
own skill at maneuvering in tight places...a skill outdone by the
clumsiest blue. Still, he roars forward, sure that Genneth is ahead of
him somewhere, and somehow worth it all.

F'ren finally opens his eyes and turns his head, looking over towards
Nya.

T'saren never takes his eyes off Nya as she rises in an odd echo of
her lifemate's movements above the gather. "Soon enough. Soon
a-sharding 'nough."

Nya moves to put the pole between herself and T'saren, shaking her
head.

Melina has connected.

And the pole moves /again./ E'vrin shakes his head, too, shaking some
man back into the the bronzed mix, and gives Nya a surprised
blink. Ah.

T'mren watches Nya silently from the side of the tent, not going any
nearer. He just..watches her. Intently.

Sharath> Genneth stops mid-wingbeat, and emits a shrill note of
distress. This is -wrong-, her tail lashes - not her own thoughts but
those of her rider. She starts to fall.

T'saren heaves a sigh of disappointment as Nya goes around to the
other side of the pole, putting that tall wooden expanse in his view
instead. Oh well, he's a patient man. Sometimes.

Sharath> Cevodnioth cannot allow this! He bugles with alarm as Genneth
thrashes, and dips his wings, heading for her, barrelling through the
sky towards her, really, as he seeks to keep her from falling!

T'mren gasps, "Nya! Stop her! She's going to fall!"

Sharath> Habrith slides a bit to the side, lining himself up
underneath the falling Genneth. If she falls just a bit more she'll
come right to him. His future and hers is now up to the fates and
perhaps up to her - there's aways the posibility that she'll check
herself before he can reach her.

Nya whimpers, "I can't..."

Sharath> Sharath flashes forward on heartbeats' last strength. Small
-- pale -- but bronze yet for all of that, he'll catch her yet, in the
ruddy hearthfire of him, and bear them both through these chancy night
tides, out of the shadows and into bright day.

Sharath> Zyrieth DIVES! Down, down he soars, gaining momentum with
every second and taking full advantage of the altitude he attained
earlier. Down, down into the head of the pack, into the Heart of the
pack, the glowing, lovely Genneth herself. He will get there. Prevent
her fall!

Sharath> Rhonneth pins his wings to his sides, seeing his moment. In a
maneuver that is certain to make his muscles sore for a sevenday, he
follows his falling star, his talons streatched out. He readies to
pluck her from the sky, to save her from her plummet. Just a little
more...

Sharath> Zyanth dips downwards, sliding down and to his right, towards
Genneth.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath reaches, trembling with the
effort of it, and brushes. Crystal. Fire. Dawn's pure light--

T'bin hisses in his best 'order' voice, the one that can slice through
a thread fall. "You /will/. Now, Nya!"

R'lym inhales sharply, dropping to his knees. "Come on... come on...."
he mutters to a distant scene.

Sharath> Solarith is again in the right place at the right time, or so
it seems as Genneth begins to plummet from the skies above him. He
spreads his wings to their fullest, ready to break her decent before
she can dash herself to death on the hard ground of Keroon below. Not
to mention smash more than a few gather-goers.

T'mren growls, "Nya, you must!"

"Wait," E'vrin strangles. "You're -- you're pushing her--" He staggers
forward a step, manages a glare not at Nya but at the suitors pressing
her. "Let her /think,/ will you? Feel. Be with Gen--Genneth--"

Melina looks up at the weyrwoman sollomly and murmers, "Save her,
Nya. Tell her to rise again. If you love her, you'll save her." Her
words are calm but stern, each hitting like lead in their impact.

F'ren speaks finally, his voice quiet and even, "Nya...she's a dragon,
you're a healer. Help her."

"She won't crash. Solarith is there to catch her." Those quiet but
completely honest words come from T'saren, as he takes another
half-step towards the junior weyrwoman.

R'lym inhales sharply, dropping to his knees. "Come on... come on...."
he mutters to a distant scene.

L'tan chooses to stay silent for a change, Nya doesn't need him
telling her what to do, there are plenty of others to do that.

T'mren glares at T'saren.

Nya groans, and grabs hold of the pole. Trust her fellow riders and -
descend into the bestial - or... she freezes at Melina's statement.

E'vrin stops where he is, wide-eyed, solemn-eyed, like a child with
hands clasped before him. This isn't right. Something's ... hmm. He
looks at Nya, tilts his head.

R'lym has disconnected.

Sharath> Genneth spreads her wings, slowing her descent. She arcs
towards the setting sun, laboring.

Melina stands quietly, nodding to Nya, "Show her you love her. Fight
for her."

R'lym has connected.

Sharath> Cevodnioth snaps his wings open again, as Genneth levels off,
and (his own hide is paler now) persues her with less vigour but no
less determination. He reaches for her with open feet, his neck whips
towards her to stop her, and his tail attempts to twine with hers.

Sharath> Rhonneth screams in protest as he labors to follow Genneth up
once more. His muscles strain against the very effort of keeping pace
with her. Not much longer now. Not much more.

Sharath> Habrith uses the reserves that still remain within his
muscles. Reserves that have been built over turns and turns of drills
and sweeps. He remains underneath her, perhaps waiting for her to
falter once again. If she does, he'll be there for her.

Sharath> Zyanth beats the air with his wings, pushing himself forward
and toward Genneth.

T'bin looks at Nya and the others finally, his eyes still cloudy with
pain, his words and tone automatic. Scary...that that tone has become
automatic so quickly. As Genneth heads upwards again, his eyes slip
closed. "Faranth."

Nya's breathing is ragged.

Sharath> Sharath matches her stroke for stroke, still riding that
giddy gust of last energy although he has to maneuver it (and
himself!) around Cevodnioth again. Wings blur red from sunset, flanks
flash white with the moons, and he reaches -- bright, oh so bright --
for her.

T'mren's eyes sink shut as he wills this to get itself over with,
shaking and sweating with his dragon's exertion.

Sharath> Solarith gives a last few thrusts of his wings to carry
himself along on hopefully the same course that Genneth will take as
she tires. As he nears the path her form is taking, he raises his tail
and neck, letting loose a bugle that should tell the golden queen he
is there to save her from sure peril below.

E'vrin sniffles a little -- dust -- and sways a little more. He still
watches her, though, with wide eyes, and he's back to biting his lip,
and frowning.

Sharath> With a ROAR, Zyrieth works hard to beat his wings to pull out
of his dive and back after the lovely, again rising Genneth! He soars
at great speed, banking as well, to turn his momentum in the right
direction.

Sharath> Ashroth has stayed above, too far to have ever had hope of
catching Genneth, but still twitching with simple need. As the gold
unsteadily rises, he slowly propels himself forward again, following
the quivering queen.

Sharath> Genneth moves towards the brightness with her last surge of
energy, blindly, unthinking... into Sharath's path.

Sharath> Silventh wings up from the Ramp.
Sharath> Silventh disappears into Between.

Sharath> Habrith lets out a final bugle of frustration and then begins
to circle down.

L'tan stumbles from the tent.
L'tan opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Rhonneth breaks off from the chase as he watches Sharath near
Genneth's shining form. With a piteous creel of frustration and
sadness, he dips his wingtip, letting his forward momentum carry him
back to the ground.
Sharath> Rhonneth angles north, towards the ramp.

Sharath> Sharath is young enough to betray a bleat of surprise, then
instinct, some scant experience, takes over, and forward they fly
together, bright on bright, to put the very moons -- those pale,
envious moons -- to shame.

Melina nods quietly and turns, walking out of the tent quietly.

Sharath> Habrith angles north, towards the ramp.

F'ren blinks and then bends, gathering up his flightstraps before
moving out of the tent.

Melina opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Habrith wings up from the Ramp.

T'mren opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Nya falls to her knees, whimpering.

Sharath> Habrith disappears into Between.

F'ren opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Solarith grumbles as another dragon gets between himself and
Genneth, claiming what he thought would be his. He banks off to one
side and spirals downward, still grumbling.

Sharath> Cevodnioth angles north, towards the ramp.

Sharath> Zyrieth roars his frustation as Sharath makes good his Catch,
he veers off to find a place to land safely.

R'lym opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Zyanth angles north, towards the ramp.

T'saren gives a sigh and leaves the tent as the chase comes to its
conclusion.
T'saren opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Zyrieth angles north, towards the ramp.
Sharath> Solarith angles north, towards the ramp.

T'bin slowly climbs to his feet and stumbles out.
T'bin opens the flap to admit a breath of fresh air and leaves.

Sharath> Genneth senses that Sharath catches in mind as well, joining
with gold, for brightness. See? It's light all the way down...

Sharath> Ashroth is jostled out of the way at last, and spirals down
in disappointment.
Sharath> Ashroth angles north, towards the ramp.

E'vrin staggers again, and manages to stagger towards her. Fretful
fingers pluck at his tunic's bindings, innocent as gossamer-spinners,
but there's little innocent, alas, in his wide dark eyes.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Genneth reaches for the brighteness, then
capitulates to the core of lust within, with a sparkle of
understanding... and growing heat of passionate flame.

Sharath> Zyanth wings up from the Ramp.
Sharath> Zyanth disappears into Between.

[Rhonneth and Solarith departed, likewise.]

Nya gasps and rolls onto the tarps.
Nya squirms up into her earlier stance against the pole, but she keeps
going, away from E'vrin.

E'vrin won't, ah, be denied, even if he's about as clumsy as can be,
what with trying to wriggle out of overtunic and boots at the same
time he's trying to stalk. "What's--" gasping breath "--what's wrong?
Nya?"

Nya says helplessly, "I want... oh, -Genneth- --" a pause, and then, "
- Sharath - "

E'vrin swallows. Stops. Sense returns, feebly, through dragons'
fire. "Oh," he says weakly. "Have you -- no, this is the first -- we
can -- but /they/ want -- oh, shards, Nya." And he stares miserably at
her, quivering for the want, but...

Nya rises suddenly, pushing against the pole, destabilizing it. As she
reaches the bronzerider, the tent comes down over the pair.

E'vrin goes along, what else can he do? While the tent settles, soft
and flat, atop.

Nya pushes E'vrin down beneath the lowered ceiling, whispering softly,
"She does fly... -we- fly - together." - into darkness.

[Fade to black.  Log ends.]