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Lysseth's Eleventh Flight
Date: November 18, 1998
Places: Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Southern Bowl, Feeding Grounds,
Upper Skyspace, and Guest Weyr
Game: PernMUSH
Copyright Info: The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.
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Kassi's Note: If flights just keep getting better all the time like
this, I don't think I'm ever going to need to fear burn-out. :) This
was a *great* one--fairly serious, but with a few bits of humor worked
in, including the obligatory Monty Python and the Holy Grail quotes. ;)
Quotes were also taken from Moxy Fruvous songs, and one of Lysseth's
poses involved a mangled version of Diane Duane's 'Lost Queen's Ballad';
let credit for those be given where they're due. The log starts in
the middle of some Living Cavern RP. Anything prefixed by Lysseth>
takes place first in the Southern Bowl, and then follows the usual
flight route.
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The Log:
Aurian ummms, "I think its M'kla's."
Canus sips his Klah, every once in awhile glancing back at K.
Matlin chuckles softly to Dossa. "Ah... Well, it's good anyhow." She takes
another sip.
Dossa looks over at Aurian and smiles. "No, it's a fresh hazelnut brew.
M'kla's is awful." She looks back at Kassima briefly.
Aurian peers in the pitcher, "Oh this won't do."
Jehrina continues talking with Pierron. She pulls a cloth out of her
pocket, folding it this way and that as she talks with the man.
Dossa blinks at Aurian. "B-but it's fresh! Don't pour it out!"
Kassima shakes her head in vehement denial. "Drank the last of that
already. Stuff goes like water. Never be minding, then... 'twill settle
for liquor and hope for the best." She keeps her tone fairly level, though
it's still edged in faint disgust. Unstoppering a vial of something red-
gold in hue, she takes a stab at being conversational: "What's the
strongest drink you've ever heard of?" she asks the strange female. That'd
be Matlin, by the way.
Aurian shakes her head, "I won't dump it out but this won't do." She
places it down and starts a new batch, "I'll have to make the stuff we
made at Healer."
Matlin blinks at the question. She opens her mouth then shuts it. She
looks thoughtful for a moment. "Well.." Checks the knot."... Rider. I've
never had anything real strong. My mother said it wasn't proper." She
hopes it's a good answer...
Canus smiles at the innocent Matlin and knows it could be a /long/ night
for her.
Dossa nods approvingly at Matlin. "Indeed! Ladies only drink wine, and
only in modest amounts. One or two glasses, at most!"
Canus laugh at Dossa. "As if you follow that rule!"
Dossa looks at Canus, and blinks. Her hands begin to tremble. "I'll, go,
check on the kitchens," she stammers, and backs away from the serving
table.
Jehrina throws back her head, and laughs, "You're a wonder, Pierron. I'll
do exactly that. He'll be amazed." With that, she turns, moving to the
head table and settling in comfortably, "Now, there's nothing at all wrong
with a good hard cider, dossa."
Canus smiles gently at Dossa, hoping she knows it was meant in good
taste.
Kassima snorts at the very mention of proper. "Probably nay, at that.
Thanks be to Faranth. If'n I thought 'twas a 'proper lady', methinks
'twould go leaping off a cliff; too many restrictions by far. Take this
stuff...." She waves her mug around a bit. "Nabolese fire-water, White
Lightning, and something M'kla couldn't identify. Nay 'tall proper, but
it's got a sharding sight more of a kick than wine. And you should see the
Bollian Thread!"
Aurian places a mug of viscusly dark klah down in front of Kassima, "Try
that."
Dossa retrieves her broom by the kitchens and starts sweeping, looking
particularly pale and sullen. She looks over at Jehrina, and nods.
Quietly, she replies, "No ma'am."
Kassima peers into the mug of klah with... could it be interest? "Strong?"
she inquires, even as she dumps the entire mug in to mix with her liquor.
Canus ponders whether he's in the drinking mood. He gets up and pours
himself a flagon of hearty ale. He sniffs it and sighs. Gulp, gulp, gulp.
"Ah..."
Matlin blinks and looks blank.. Oviously she's never heard of those types.
Lysseth> Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath
rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Falsanath and his
rider, G'har of Ista Weyr.
Aurian nods to Kassima, "Very strong. The kind of stuff you drink to stay
up more than all night." She wanders to the redfruit.
Matlin takes a drink of her plain ol klah. She's wondering what she's
stepped into.
Lysseth> Falsanath backwings for a landing.
Lysseth> E'vrin walks here from the north.
Kassima seems to find instructing someone on 'Why We Should Worship
Liquor' to be a useful distraction. "'Tis made from all these weird
fermented things, see. Makes you feel like your innards are being
dissolved when you drink 'em. Wonderful stuff... oh, so!" The description
of the klah seems to please her, if mildly. "Nay quite M'kla's, then, but
mayhaps passable. I owe you one."
Lysseth> Falsanath bugles brightly to the dragons, coming to a graceful
landing. G'har, with a slight shake of his head, slides down the dragon's
side.
Lysseth> G'har uses Falsanath's conveniently proffered foreleg as a step,
and goes from his back to the ground.
Lysseth> E'vrin puffs his steamy way through the snow, towards the living
caverns' entrance.
Lysseth> Kvasith rumbles a greeting to the other dragons. His attention is
mostly on Lysseth though.
Dossa hmphs, and grumbles, "I happen to like the hazelnut, myself," as she
sweeps.
Lysseth> E'vrin ignores Lysseth. Ignores the rest of the dragons, too,
although he gives G'har a politely friendly sort of look as he disappears
inside.
E'vrin walks in from the bowl.
Lysseth> Lysseth is sleeping at the moment... or dozing, anyway. It's a
restless doze. Her tail flicks back and forth, back and forth, rather
spasmodically--and pauses for a brief instant as the various greetings
disturb her. Unlidding blazingly red eyes, she snarls what *could* be a
greeting but is more likely the dragon equivalent of 'Bugger off.'
Canus looks back at Dossa, "It's good too, but sometimes you need
something, um.. er... stronger.
Jehrinashrugs at Canus, "Too much of that can be a dangerous thing, too."
She nods in greeting to E'vrin.
Canus nods to E'vrin
Lysseth> G'har groans quietly as he sees Lysseth. He heads towards
Falsanath, clearly intending to leave, but the bronze rumbles a negative,
gaze intent on the green. "You planned this," G'har hisses. "Someone told
you. -Fal-." It's a protest, but one that is ignored. With a shake of his
head, G'har heads for the living cavern, and the inevitible.
Matlin stifles a chuckles and nods her agreement to Dossa. But then she
shakes her head. "I don't know if I could trust something strong. It would
probebly knock me out."
Jehrina chuckles, "In some cases, that's the idea."
Aurian peels a redfruit, "Telgar's duties." She peers at that redfruit and
starts to peel another redfruit. Funny its almost taking on an obsessive
quality.
G'har walks in from the bowl.
G'har calls a quiet, "Ista's duty to Telgar and her queens." Clearly, he
wants to satisfy protocol, but he'd be just as happy if nobody actually
responded to the greeting.
Canus nods to the other rider. He then proceeds to gulp down every bit of
his ale and get up for another serving.
Matlin looks at Jehrina surprised. "Really? Why would anyone want to do
that?"
Dossa must be proddy too, because she kvetches at Aurian as she sweeps by.
"You plan on eating -both- redfruits, Aurie? I don't like to hear Ofira
complain about wasted fruit."
Already peeling another redfruit, Aurian glances to the entry, "Telgar's
duties to Ista and her Queens." She has a pile of nonpeeled and peeled
redfruits.
"Probably," Kassi finds the charity to agree after gulping about two
thirds of the seriously doctored klah. Maybe that explains why her voice
is so raspy. "Probably. Got t'have a *tolerance*. Down side being that
if'n you do have one, 'tis bloody hard t'*get* knocked out by the stuff."
She grants first the mug, and then the arriving-types a decidedly sour
look. "Aye, duties," she replies with some irritation.
Canus chuckles at Matlin's innocemnce (or naivety?) "Brings a smile to the
ole face."
Matlin looks over at Canus a bit confused. "For who.. you or the poor
drinker?"
Canus laughs. "Both usually."
Aurian is contentedly peeling redfruit trying to get the peel off in one
continuous piece.
G'har stares at Kassima for a moment, then prudently avoids the table
where she's sitting, mumbling something about drawings on weyr walls.
Jehrina nods to G'har as well, "Telgar's duties to Ista." To matlin, she
answers, "In some cases, it dulls grief long enough to allow some rest."
Canus chuckles at Aurian, "You've made that an art you have."
E'vrin slides in under the cover of others' entrances, aiming at the Lower
Caverns; and a wise decision, too, to hear the growls from some quarters.
Canus begins to down his second flagon.
Kassima, never one to care for being stared at, gives G'har a defiant
glare in response. "What brings you to the Icy Wastes, Weyrsecond? Or you,
bronzerider?" Uh-oh. She's trying to be social.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath fleets a touch of crystal on stone,
flame on ice: an automatic warning of his rider's proximity to those
needing it.
E'vrin isn't the only bronze rider around. He keeps walking, oh, yes he
does. His shoulders are stiff, though, under creaking leather.
Dossa looks up from her sweeping. "Klah? A bite to eat, visitors?" She
smiles amiably at the two riders, although her eyes are a bit red and
puffy, perhaps from crying.
Aurian works on another redfruit, the juice staining her fingers as she
keeps up her peeling.
Jehrina peers over at the brownrider, 'Aurian, are you going to eat that,
or just mangle it?"
G'har offers Kassi a decidedly nervous smile. "Uh. Well, see, I came to
visit Tria. Only she's not here." A nervous chuckle, and he adds, "Rotten
luck. That'll teach me not to check, hm?"
Matlin starts to respond to the answers given her, but she decides she
best not since they are a bit busy, so she settles for a drink of her
Klah.
E'vrin pauses. Searches. "...Dossa, right?" he tries with a smile. "Maybe
later, if that's all right? I'm hunting someone, and..." And he glances
around the cavern before returning to her, voice dropped. "And maybe later
would be a better time, I think."
Aurian glances to Jehrina, "I'll eat them. I always eat them." She sounds
rather off as she starts on another one.
Dossa blinks at E'vrin. "Hunting? For whom? Perhaps I can help you?" She
smiles, leaning on her broom.
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies with a similar image, but...
twisted. Spikes of black ice guard pools of sluggish, molten lava, their
broken edgings as jagged and sharp as knife-points. An unmistakable
warn-off. She's not in the mood for socializing tonight.
Jehrina grins, "Just makgin sure."
Canus has finished off his second and pours himself a third. An odd smile
seems to have permanently taken the place of his mouth.
E'vrin scoots around to be closer to her (or maybe to the broom; there's
/tension/ around). "Found my father," he informs Dossa, still quietly,
"thanks to Kassima's help -- remember? Time now for my sister. If you're
busy, though..."
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath patently did not get where he is today
by playing it safe. Smugly impenetrable, he inquires, << Something
amiss? >>
Dossa blinks again at E'vrin. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking
about, sir."
Kassima's smile in response is thin and mirthless. "Indeed. Tria will
probably be sorry she missed you. I heard she's playing with a new
Emasculator design for the Hall that she wants t'get opinions of."
Probably a total lie, but she says it so convincingly.
....gulp....gulp...gulp The noises seem to be coming from Canus who has
taken a place right next to where the ale is kept.
E'vrin's expression slips. "Oh. I'm sorry; I could have sworn..." He backs
off, shaking his head. "Pardon me, please. I must have misremembered.
I'll -- be on my way."
Alyssa walks in from the bowl.
G'har can't help but blanch just a bit at Kassi's response. "I'll, uh, be
sure to find her. Yeah. Thanks for telling me, Kassi. I appreciate it."
And he's lying through his teeth, not nearly as convincingly as Kassi. He
smiles, then.
Canus smiles. "Emasculators! Now theres a topic I can speak on.
Dossa shakes her head. "No, no, it's okay... please, sir. Give me
something to recall... I meet so many people every day!"
Jehrina glances up again, then peers around the cavern, "It's hardly a
topic for a place people eat though, hm?"
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies in seething tones, bitter as
the dregs of acid, << *Whatever* would give you that idea? >> Couldn't be
the glow, could it? Nahhh.
Telgar Weyr> Meli really needs to find a picture of an Emasculator and an
Elastrator in her vet books and post it webwards sometime. :)
Aurian slices the redfruit in half. With that she starts nibbling at last.
Canus shrugs. "We've discussed it here before."
Dossa frowns at Canus, and sighs. "Not again. He's sharding drunk. Another
mess to clean..."
Jehrina says "Obviously not while I'm here, then."
Alyssa salutes Jehrina on her way past the weyrwoman, adding Benden's duty
to E'vrin and G'har alike. That done, propriety served, she continues
toward the hearth in her typically unassuming manner.
Telgar Weyr> M'rgan found a picture on the web. I'll have to look for the
addy again sometime and post it. ;)
Maylia enters from the Bowl.
Telgar Weyr> Kindre did find a pic of an emasculator on the web :)
E'vrin folds his arms, puts his head down. "I visited from Igen a month
back," he offers Dossa. "Was hunting family. Let's see ... the wingleader
was there. Aurian--" whom he flicks eyes over, just now seeing her, then
gets sidetracked "--Drunk?"
Canus looks at Dossa. "I'm not drunk, yet. Besides, I'll be more careful
this time."
If looks could kill, Canus would be... well, he'd be bleeding a lot,
that's for sure. "I think the weyrwoman's got an excellent point," G'har
says quickly. "Not a suitable topic at all." He smiles towards Alyssa, but
still looks just a bit uneasy.
Matlin Stays quiet as more people come in. She moves to find herself a
place to sit.
Aurian offers a peeled redfruit to Maylia, "Want one ma'am?"
Telgar Weyr> Meli is prolly still the only one here who's actually used
one though. ;) And with that, I despam.
Jehrina nods at G'har, then makes a face at Alyssa, "Oh stop that until
and unles you're coming here on a more permanent basis, will you?"
Dossa says "No emasculators, -please-, Canus." She mutters something, and
then smiles politely at E'vrin. "Oh, that! I'm so sorry for not
remembering immediately!"
Telgar Weyr> Alyssa smooches Woogawoman and at least know what one is. :P
Kassima is still attempting to be social, though with somewhat less
success. "Try Rhiallya, bronzerider," she tells E'vrin in brief. "She'll
probably know. You men are such wusses," she adds disparagingly to G'har,
eyeing him. "How d'you manage t'get through the day without fainting a
zillion times, I'd like t'know?"
At Jehrina's response Alyssa's mouth opens, then, thinking better of it,
she seals it shut again.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath rubs a fiery thought against the jags;
acid can't eat through crystal immediately. << Normally you are polite, >>
he points out. << So E'vrin reminds me, even as he watches your rider ...
do what she does. Tonight you are not. Did you have a poor meal? >>
Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth takes charge of the OOC mic for a
moment. << Evening! By my player's watch, blooding for my next flight
should begin in, oh, ten minutes or so. Interested parties are invited to
hop over to Telgar and join the flight channel. Thanks! :) >>
Canus smiles. "Okay, no Emasculators." He starts at K's remark. "Why, if
it wasn't for men you women'd not be here right now!"
Maylia strides into the living cavern, at a comfortable pace, a rider from
Southern Weyr by the looks of the wingseconds' knot beside her. "Klah?" is
offered the slightly younger girl, and soon both have mugs and head for
the tables. Settling into a seat, Maylia asks Aurian, "Since when d'you
call me ma'am?" With a grin, and looks like she's inclined to accept the
fruit.
Jehrina glances at Canus, "If it wasn't for your mother, you wouldn't be
here either."
G'har stiffens at Kassima's words, almost as if they're infusing him with
backbone. "C'mon, Kassi. I think that's going just a little far, there."
E'vrin is still fumbling through apologies. "No problem at all, Dossa;
there /are/ a lot of people running around, you're quite right." Kassima
gets a wary glance, a scant nod. Evidently, Dossa is the safer territory
now. She has a broom, see.
Jehrina then turns a grin on Alyssa.
Canus looks to Fehrina. "Agreed. Its a cooph, a cop, a cooperatiph
thingie."
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth's frost immediately combats flame,
steam rising from it in the warning hiss of dry ice. << I'm *proddy*, you
lunkhead, >> she snaps, ever-so-helpfully.
Dossa giggles at E'vrin. "So you're looking for more family now, sir?"
Aurian lets Maylia partake of the fruit, "Since it seemed like fun"
"E'vrin," the Igenite protests politely. "I'm not old enough or ranked
enough for a 'sir,' I promise you. But yes, I am. It still sounds inane,
doesn't it?"
Aurian sucks on her redfruit stained fingers.
Telgar Weyr> Maylia grins, and brings the puppet Shasta down... she's the
one that walked into the LC with May...
Canus sips on his Ale.
Dossa shakes her head. "Not inane at all! It's important to know your
roots. Roots are very important, says my Mum." As an aside, she adds, "She
was originally a hold drudge, so I was fortunate enough to grow up with a
sense of *decency*." She emphasizes the word, aimed somewhat at Kassima.
Dragon> Isadith bespoke Flight with << You go, girl! ;) >>
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath rasps merrily through the steam, safe
in his fire, << Oh, I know. At least you aren't trying to sear everyone's
minds like a few greens we have at Igen. You have /that/ much on your
side. >> He pauses, a slip of blank thought. << ...Unless you are unable
to sear? >> Poor green.
Jehrina wrinkles her nose at Dossa, though apparently not in rebuke of the
girl, "You got lucky. My grandmother .. well."
Matlin spots someone at the back of the cavern, as they slip out of the
LC. Her face lights up with recgnition and moves after....
Kassima gives G'har a glower in response. So much for being social. "Going
a bit far? Oh, nay. If'n I wanted t'do that, I'd have said something
exaggerated, and 'twas *trying* t'be somewhat polite." Oookay. She
continues to ignore Dossa entirely, of course.
Dragon> Juliath bespoke Flight with << SkinnyButt's going up again?
Sheesh, good thing she's not gold, right? >>
E'vrin peers past Dossa at the new voice and finds a sketched salute for
the queen rider. Then he adds, "Too much decency can be constricting,
though."
Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << I think its a cute butt >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Isadith snorts at Juliath.
Jehrina nods at E'vrin. "Truly."
Canus softly sings, "Every beast is sacred....."
Dragon> Flight sense that Tierth grins. And is puppet Muinyth, the
studmuffin brown from Southern Weyr... and he thinks greenbut here's
definetly attractive...
G'har's lips quirk at the exchange. "Of course, Kassi," he says mildly.
Canus's song draws a quick, puzzled look, and a shake of the head.
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth whaps her runnerbeast-reared sibling.
<< Drop dead, dwiddlydwonk. ;) Mousketeer roll call: how many of you are
here to exert your masochistic sides and chase? ;) >>
Canus looks down to the floor and seems to be having a conversation with
an invisable friend.
Dragon> Falsanath bespoke Flight with << Annette! Oh... wait. >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Kvasith flutters all his eyelids at Lysseth,
<< Me oh ME!
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies in a flash of ice that's cold
enough to burn and leave scars in its wake, << I can do whatever I
wish! >> So *there*!
Dragon> Flight sense that Juliath does the draconic pthbbtt at Lyss and
then shuts up.
E'vrin smiles slightly. "My manners," he apologizes to Jehrina. "I'm
E'vrin from Igen, Sharath's rider. Good evening."
Maylia reaches for the fruit, and nabs the peeling knife from Aurian with
a grin, to slice it in half. "Auri, you've met my sister, haven't you?"
She asks, indicating Shasta. Who, unfamilliar with Kassima's ways, isn't
quite managing to ignore the greenrider as well as her elder sister is.
Aurian peers at Shasta, "Um weren't you at a flight?"
Dragon> Flight sense that Isadith lols at Falsanath! And Kvasith!
Jehrina returns E'vrin's smile, "Welcome to Telgar, then. Don't tell me
it'
Jehrina .. " It's still too warm during winter there that you had to come
freeze here?" SHe grins.
With muslin bag aromatically secure within the steaming depths of a mug of
near-boiling water Alyssa leans against the supportive edge of a table,
stirring the beverage while silently observing the conversation. On the
fringe as she is, her participation is from a listening standpoint only.
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth grins and passes out mouse-ears. << Hey
there, hi there, ho there! Who has that glowing sheen? P-R-O D-D-Y
G-R-E-E-N... okay, I'll behave now. ;) Gents, blooding starts at your
leisure; I'll join you in the feeding grounds (CB, FG from the Southern
Bowl) shortly. :) >>
Telgar-Bowl> Sharath springs into the air for a quick flight over the
fence and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.
Dossa resumes sweeping somewhat, E'vrin's attention taken elsewhere.
Lysseth> Kvasith pauses and blinks at Lysseth's lovely hide. Yeee haw!!!
Lysseth> Kvasith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to
carry him aloft.
Lysseth> Above, Kvasith flies towards the north end of the bowl.
Telgar-Bowl> Above, Kvasith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.
"Dreadfully," E'vrin answers with a nice touch of melodrama. He's still
/near/ Dossa, but that attention -- true enough. "No, I'm here on an
errand."
Aurian chews on her redfruit wedge.
Shasta, incapable of paling due to her tan, nods to Aurian. "Southern's
duties, I'm Shasta," She introduces, raising her voice so others might
hear the duties given. "And hers, I believe," is her response to Aurian's
question, with a nod of her chin towards Thunderbolts' wingleader.
Kassima purses her mouth, frowning, but can't seem to find anything to
whine about in a simple 'Yes, Kassi.' Drat. "My what?" she decides to
demand of the Southerner, tone somewhat... strained? Just slightly so.
Telgar-Bowl> Above, Muinyth flies downward towards the feeding grounds.
Jehrina chuckles, "Well, that's no fun at all."
G'har pauses a moment, gaze flickering out of focus. Mumbling something
under his breath, he glares at the bowl. "A leash," he asserts. "A big
one."
Dragon> Flight sense that Isadith hunhs? as she gets Spock ears instead of
mouse-ears. Owait. She's female, that must be why. Logical, and all that.
Not to mention fascinating ;)
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Sharath stoops hard to a kill: bronze
talons splay, bronze wings tent, and bronze head bends, white, white teeth
ripping, gnawing, worrying. His eyes spin through blue into violet into
madder, maddened carnelian, and he growls gore at the next-comers.
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Kvasith snarls as he lands, his wings
spreading enough to direct a herdbeast where he wants it to go. He pounces
on the thing and latches his teeth into the calf. Chezroth's baby. He
suckles happily.
Lysseth> Falsanath lumbers north.
Telgar-Bowl> Falsanath springs into the air for a quick flight over the
fence and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.
Aurian pauses in her redfruit munching, "Sheeeeesh..."
Jehrina raises an eyebrow, then grins a bit, "Well, about time."
Dossa blinks at the sudden mood-change in the living cavern. She looks
from face to face.
E'vrin sucks in a breath. He falls back another step, from both Dossa and
Jehrina, and his voice attenuates into breathy politesse. "Oh," quoth he,
quiet, eyes too wide and dark. "If you ... would excuse me a moment,
please?"
Shasta glances out towards the bowl, muttering some curse or other under
her breath that's cut short. "Uh, g'deve, Wingleader. Your flight. I was
here for, or rather your lovely greens?" The picture of respect, and she's
learned already not to call Kassi ma'am.
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Falsanath snatches up a terrified
buck even as he lands, sandy-bronze hide remaining relatively neat despite
the messiness of his blooding. He munches a bite from the neck, then spits
it out (ptooey), the better to get to the blood.
Canus seems confused.
Dossa's face drains of color. "Oh no. Oh, fardles, no." Sighing, she
discards her broom, and goes over to the kitchens.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath's tenor ripples with the cupric salt
of gore, the maddening heat of life fading into death. Thoughtforms come
and go like islands in a rising tide: << Proddy -- proddy, was it? --Come
play. Come feed. Fly-- >>
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Muinyth folds his wings and plummets
down amongst the herd, catching himslef at the last moment with wings
flared wide, snapping to catch the wind. He lifts again, a still bawling
herdbeast cluched in his talons, legs dangling uselessly below. The medium
sized brown carries his soon-to-be kill off a bit, before casually
disposing of its life, and blooding it.
"Flight," Kassi replies vaguely, eyes unfocused. "Flight. Um. Lovely
green. I don't have a lovely green, actually. I have a flamingly wicked
wench who's *determined* t'make m'life a living nightmare." By the end of
the statement, she's standing, and growling to boot. "Lyss, shardit,
you're losing me two marks!"
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Kvasith sucks the little beast dry
and then drops it in a corner. With a savage snarl he reaches for another
calf around the same age and clutches it close as his teeth pierce its
veins in an almost tender moment.
Maylia leans back in her seat, munching on the redfruit with an amused
grin on her face. She can't seem to decide who's more entertaining, her
Southerner sister, or Kassima.
Canuss eyes open widely as he finally understands. The effect of the ale
drains out of him.
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth snaps back, black and red flaring
together, << I'll come when I'm sharding well good and ready! >> Someone
has been listening to her rider too much lately.
Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Sharath's tongue slops like a fat
finger around his jaws' reddened rims, catching the flow of blood and
sinew; above, eyes whirl to match, to judge and calculate. He backs from
the buck he'd downed, a pallid wraith of a dragon, and watches warily.
Jehrina snickers, and not exactly pleasantly. "This is not a bad thing."
Dossa returns, moments later, with a literal armful of about a dozen
wineskins, which she quite robotically sets out on the serving table.
Aurian leans her head against her hands, "Kvasith...."
Lysseth> Lysseth stirs finally from her drowse, giving a long, sensuous
streeeetch... much like a feline, actually. Except much, much better-
looking. With a final snarl at the world in general, she leaps into the
night.
Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft.
Lysseth> You fly towards the north end of the bowl.
Canus looks about in interest, never having seen this before.
Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath chimes harsh, dissonant amusement.
Fire, ice; smoke, steam; lust, need -- << Come, you'll come -- we wait --
but so few, so small -- /I'm/ here... >>
Lysseth> The amazing Falsanath! He slices, he dices, even makes julienne
herdbeast! Two gleaming talons reach to snatch a passing herdbeast, then
rake along the hide to allow blood to well. His tongue swirls against
hide, then better to catch the crimson fountain.
Shasta rises to her feet, shoulders back in a rather defiant pose, though
not directed at Kassima. "Muinyth, shardit!" A glare is directed at her
sister. "Sure. Laugh. Though it could be worse, could be Tierth going up!"
Both young women make a face at this - but Maylia responds with "You're
assuming your brown could catch her!" Siblings. Silly things.
Kassima gives a snarl of disgust that would sound more appropriate from
her dragon's throat. "Necklace from talons? I'll tell you what I'm going
t'do, you bloody beast! I'll have your eyes for earrings! Giant earrings,
d'you hear me? And your bones for a walking stick, and--" The stream of
invective continues as she storms her way outside.
You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.
Telgar-LC> E'vrin trembles full-body, but manages to keep his feet. Skin
stretches tautly over the bones of brow, cheek, jaw as he balances
towards ... outside. It's cold out there. Cold is good -- even if a hot
green rider is out there.
E'vrin comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Telgar-LC> Dossa winces as Kassima storms past, and starts to cry again.
Fighting past her tears, she goes back into the kitchen to fix more
wineskins.
Lysseth> Adonith flies over the feeding grounds from above the bowl.
Telgar-LC> G'har suggests, gaze following after Kassi, "She'd make an
awfully nice rug." He shakes his head, getting very carefully to his feet.
Moving with taut control, he heads for the bowl.
Lysseth> Kvasith glances up from his kill, he warbles towards the green
before flicking his tounge over his ruddy stained muzzle. With another
leap and bounce he lands on a youthful wherry. A poof of feathers shows
his capture, then he lances his teeth into the small avian.
Telgar-LC> Jehrinawaves her hands, making shoing motions owards the bowl,
"Go on, not like this doesn't happen near on every day."
Aurian comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
G'har comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Telgar-LC> Alyssa's head snaps up and, eyes widening, she whispers, "NO,
do not, Adonith, no NO..."
Aurian mutters, "Sharding dragons."
Telgar-LC> Canus chcuckles at the effects its having on the others.
Lysseth> Muinyth bloods his kill, blood spurting up across his granite
cheek, painting it with obscure pictographs depicting a grisly kill. Umber
wings spread wide, as soon as the first kill is drained, he leaps for
another - no growls, hisses, nor roars does he make, rather, he casually
bowls over a buck with a swipe of a forepaw.
G'har nods his agreement to Aurian's words, expression just a bit sour. He
mutters to himself, "... never forgive..."
Lysseth> Lysseth swoops from the sky, silent as a shadow, but nowhere near
as dark... oh, no. She *glows*. But the light isn't enough to give the
flock sufficient warning; a buck herdbeast is caught up in wicked, curving
talons, lifted aloft with a scream of agony and terror. Well, you'd scream
too if your innards were dangling from your body. With a contemptuous
screech, Lyss lets the thing drop, to be splattered quite picturesquely on
the ground below. Mmmm. Blood.
Telgar-LC> Shasta sighs, and heads out the bowl, with an appologetic
glance back towards Telgar's Weyrlingmaster.
Shasta comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Lysseth> Sharath sinks low to his belly; ribs scrape against muddied,
blooded ground. Across the killing fields -- green. Brown there, brown
there, bronze there, blue there -- and green. And -- bronze /here,/ pale
gold and tawny, matching Lysseth's leap with one of his own onto the
breaking, bawling carcass of herdbeast. Wings sweep forward, and he feeds
from behind the curtain with sounds thick and mumbly-soft.
Telgar-LC> Dossa returns with more wineskins, sniffling. "I hate flights,"
she whimpers. "'specially Lysseth's." She sets the skins out, and counts.
Lysseth> Adonith plummets into the collection of scurrying beasties with a
fury that would find admiration in the most bloodthirsty of drunken Hold
guards. His talons, fully extended, sink into the back of a mid-sized
bovine and there lock, carrying the creature to the bowl with a jarring
-thud-. As he settles in the soft, misty cloud his landing raised, he
rends the hapless creature in twain and, eyes whirling crimson intensity,
begins to blood.
Telgar-LC> Canus asks, "goona be a long night?"
Telgar-LC> "Yes," Alyssa answers wearily, setting aside her tea as she
walks toward the bowl, "it's going to be a dreadfully long night."
"...And I'll have her hide for a cloak, and her teeth for daggers, and her
gizzards for... um... display purposes," Kassima continues to rant, eyes
flashing green. She isn't any more pleased with this than anyone else, you
know. "*Blood* it, you fardling troglodyte, and none of that nonsense out
of you!"
Telgar-LC> Jehrina shrugs, "Lysseth's loud for a green, granted. Depends
on how many dragons she tears up this time."
Lysseth> Falsanath pauses as he catches sight of Lysseth, the herdbeast
still dangling from his mouth. He tosses aside the herdbeast with a
contemptuous flick, not really noticing where it lands, and snatches for
another, his movements taking on a certain urgency even as the whirling of
his eyes quicken.
E'vrin sways in the midst of suitors and steamed breath. He fixes on one
figure (/any/ figure) and tries to follow, led by unfocused, spancelled
eyes. The fact that the figure happens to be swearing the chill air blue
doesn't seem to be reaching him: it's enough if he doesn't fall over, for
now.
Telgar-LC> Maylia glances up toward Dossa, shrugging. "The worst parts'
over, I"d say. She won't be proddy for another turn, a few drunken
lecherous maleriders' wont be too much trouble." After all, this sort of
thing happens several times a sevenday.
Alyssa comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Lysseth> Kvasith tosses a dry avian over his shoulder. He hops up and
lands on a buck who screams as he crushes under the brown's weight. He
laps at the delicate spray of blood.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath slides his thoughts through the
thickened aether like a scalpel of wicked glass. Blood -- echoed from
rider, that injunction, from deep within his own walls -- blood now. Fly!
Where is her ice now?
G'har's gaze flickers briefly out of focus, and he shakes his head,
mumbling something about obligations and hanging, and knots in certain
long tails. Hands thrust deeply into pockets, after G'har tugs open his
jacket.
Aurian licks her fingers, catching the remaining redfruit juice off her
fingers almost mimicking Kvasith's behaviors.
Alyssa's appearance with the other riders is reluctant to say the least.
Arms cross over her narrow frame, shoulders hunch against the cold, and
features attain a stoic expression of forebearance.
Lysseth> Lysseth does her best to drain her kill, but... well, the fact
is, the messy way it met its demise doesn't make drinking very easy. With
a dissatisfied growl, she springs again, rocketing across the Grounds--a
mere handsbreath, if that, over the others; she's confident, this one.
Smug. She knows her own cleverness. Banking back, she lands directly on
the back of another buck herdbeast--she *does* have it in for anything
male tonight, doesn't she?--and crushes it similarly with the crack of
splintering bone. Lowering her head, she begins to drink of the rich life-
liquor within. Here she sits, and here she'll say hello to herdbeast blood
today.
Lysseth> Kvasith licks his muzzle as he watches Lysseth. His eyes whirl
with eagerness as the color begins to shift towards those of draconic
lust.
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets some rules out of the way. :)
<< Pretty standard stuff: one pose for every Lyss-pose, no size limit;
rider poses unlimited. Guest Weyr will be IC, flight channel OOC. Feel
free to joke and heckle over the channel as long as it's good-natured. ;)
We'll go up two skyspaces to save on spam. Be sure to page Kassi sometime
before the end if you don't want to win. And have fun! :) Everything
clear? >>
Lysseth> Sharath shutters his eyes briefly behind milky lids, away from
splatter and bone-cracking chatter -- away, Kvasith; away, all! Messy --
and slithers into new airspace. Up he launches, and down he falls, onto
the back of another herdbeast whose hooves scramble for purchase on life's
precipice, whose blood leaks into eager bronze jaws, whose calf wails and
cries in the herd's safety, her eyes so big, so dark.
Lysseth> Falsanath extracts himself from his final herdbeast, with a snarl
for a brown that moves between himself and Lysseth, obstructing his view
of the green. Head snaps up as she passes over the males--yes, he's
actually trying to catch her before the flight has started, while he's
still on the ground. Naturally, he doesn't quite manage it, but rumbles
smugly for all that. He was -close-, or so he thinks. He settles back to
wait, whirling amethyst eyes intent on the glowing gold.
Lysseth> Muinyth hovers over his recent, blooded kill for a moment, forked
tongue darting out to the streaks of blood across his jaw. His belly, dark
with the blackness of cavern depths, creeps low to the ground as he
casually eyes Lysseth, a soft rumble escaping his throat. But more blood
is desired still, and the brown singles out a wherry and springs for it,
the avian's final ssquack lost in the snapping of neckbones and the soft
ffwumph of dragonwings.
Lysseth> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies in a blaze of heat--anger,
bloodlust... other-lust, too, but that still well-muted. She'll fly when
*she* decides its time, and until then, shall move for no one.
A thick moan in the throat: E'vrin sways again, nearly into Alyssa but
not. ('Way -- away!) Shuddering, he pulls into himself, arms and shoulders
and even eyes, miserable and blind.
Lysseth> Nose burrowed into the entrails of his kill, Adonith busily sucks
gory liquid from the bovine's torso, but his glistening gaze is fixated on
Lysseth as she moves from one side of the grounds to another. His eyes,
ruby echoes of the carnage spilled before him, keep Lysseth company in her
every move. No poetry here, no tuning, no lyric romance in the rending of
this herdbeast and his gorging upon the life's blood of it. This is stark,
plain draconic business, and he is a professional about it.
Aurian takes a steadying breath as she watches her dragon and the others.
She rubs her temples wearily
Shasta follows the cluster of riders, and comes to rest standing a bit
apart, eyes fixed on the scene far off.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath squeezes a reply rich with blood,
riding untrammelled tandem with the echoes of that calf's cries for her
mother: a predator's haughty disdain for prey, and which one is she, hmm?
Kassima is shifting her weight from foot to foot, almost like a little who
has to go to the bathroom... but not for the same reason. Thank Faranth.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," she urges her lifemate impatiently, eager for it
all to be over and *done*.
Eyes slant to the younger rider as Alyssa reaches out a hand to steady
E'vrin. "Careful," she warns, her supple voice roughened by the emotions
Adonith is broadcasting.
E'vrin hisses and avoids the hand. "Don't--" Strangled syllable, less a
word than a cough, or warning, or plea. (Wrong, all wrong, this; where's
the right?)
G'har mutters under his breath, "Not -yet-." Dark brows lower over green
eyes, gaze flickering briefly to E'vrin and Alyssa before moving back,
unerringly, to Kassima.
Alyssa murmurs stiffly, "Concentrate on controlling your dragon,
bronzerider," and says nothing further, her attention required for her own
self-restraint.
Lysseth> Lysseth sits up on her haunches, muzzle sanguine, and the beast
before her drained entirely. Such fuel as was provided has heightened her
glow considerably, and her eyes are amethyst and ruby both; soon, soon
will be the time. But not until *she* declares it. However, perhaps some
of her rider's impatience communicates itself; she spares only long enough
to rip off the head of a wherry and tip it back like a giant wineskin to
embibe of its inner fluids, before throwing it, too, aside--and leaping
into the air with a cry of utter, implacable contempt. Contempt--and
challenge.
Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft -- much to the relief of the wherries.
Lysseth> Adonith rises up from the feeding grounds.
Lysseth> You soar upwards and into the open sky above the Weyr.
Shasta stands patiently, her back rigid, shoulders tossed back. Her eyes
slide to the Igen bronzerider, and back to the feeding grounds far off,
murmuring, "Now."
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Doh. >>
Lysseth> Adonith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.
Lysseth> Sharath flies up from the southern half of the bowl.
Lysseth> Kvasith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.
Lysseth> Muinyth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.
Kassima closes her eyes briefly as the green form streaks into the sky, a
shudder running through her lanky frame. "All right," she mutters,
refusing to actually *look* at any of the riders. "Let's get this over
with, shall we?" And to the Guest Weyr she goes.
You push aside the curtain and enter the weyr.
Shasta comes into the weyr from the bowl.
Lysseth> Sharath explodes on fast-riding wings: higher! He angles behind
Adonith for the slipstream's advantage, and his pale body shines paler
under starshine, led by the madder-fire of part-lidded eyes.
Dragon> Falsanath bespoke Flight with << Ack, lagspam! >>
E'vrin comes into the weyr from the bowl.
Aurian comes into the weyr from the bowl.
Alyssa comes into the weyr from the bowl.
E'vrin reels in after Shasta -- well, nearly /into/ Shasta, while he's
mazed with another's movements -- but rights himself quickly. Over
/there,/ against that cold, calm, solid wall there: he presses his brow
into stone, rolling it, and shivers a moment.
Aurian drops back against the wall. She rubs her temples wearily.
Lysseth> Falsanath flies up from the southern half of the bowl.
Lysseth> Lysseth streaks a blaze across the sky indeed, like a flash of
heat-lightning against paradoxically snow-heavy clouds; she is fast, one
of Telgar's fastest, and a good head-start is just what she needs now.
It's got a logic that you just can't refute! The wind shrieks off of her
windsails, to be drowned out by her own mocking, spiralling cry: fast as
fast can be, you'll never catch me!
G'har comes into the weyr from the bowl.
Telgar Weyr> Dossa says, "I suppose everyone's chasing after Lysseth?"
Lysseth> Kvasith skyrockets with absurd quickness. His wings spread wide
as he follows after Lysseth, his body whips about through the night air.
Telgar Weyr> Canus winks, "Not me."
Lysseth> Adonith expends precious energy and drive in his launch and, head
just tucked in against the wind, propels himself to the vanguard of those
chasing. Wingtips dig deep into the frosty Telgari sky and rise again with
alacrity, a trail of mist underscoring their passage. Against the clouds
Lysseth's shimmering figure is facilely followed, and follow he does. What
the others do, he cares not.
Telgar Weyr> S'dar would, but has some friends over... I'll watch though!
Telgar Weyr> Dossa says, "Silly S'dar, bronzes don't chase greens. :p"
Kassima wastes no time in stalking over to the weyr wall farthest from the
entrance and claiming it as hers. There will be no approaching *her*
demense without facing the terrible peril. With eyes that smolder with
anger, and nothing else just yet, she flicks a glance around to make sure
that none of *them* are too close.
Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Yes, they do. :)"
Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "Voyeurs untie. :)"
Lysseth> Falsanath arrows after Lysseth, though he's definitely to the
back of the pack. His whippy tail sails behind him, incidentally twisting
in the breeze to smack a slightly slower bronze's rump. It's not a kick,
but it'll serve him, apparently.
Telgar Weyr> Dossa says, "And if they did, they're desperate!"
Telgar Weyr> Dossa ducks. ;)
Telgar Weyr> Jehrina says, "sure they do. And too many of them win. ;)"
Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "No, just typically ruddybronzes. :)"
Lysseth> Muinyth springs aloft, leaving the wherry carcass in place where
it ceased to have blood prssure. Let the firelizars eat it, he's got
better things to do. Higher and higher the brown rises, calciferous umber
wings carrying him on rising thermals, his eyes fixed on Lysseth, far
above him so she's little but a glowing beacon. An unlikely effect, a
mudball flung skyward, a chunk of cliff sppeeding upwards, but rise he
does.
Telgar Weyr> Alyssa says, "Yeah! ;)"
Telgar Weyr> S'dar notes that Chezroth is a ruddybronze!
Aurian rubs her brow. "Faranth faranth."
Alyssa finds and folds against the most convenient wall, head bowed
between her upraised knees. She whispers to herself now and again, but
those few words are regarding flight: she is one with her dragon.
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath apologizes in advance, as his lag has
chosen now to strangle him. << Poses will be slow. >>
Telgar Weyr> Aurian snorts.
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath chips in with the same.
Shasta shuffles away from the Igen bronzerider, giving him a glare thats
icier than the weather outside. But she says nothing, the furrow of her
brow smoothing as she forgets her own place in favour of concentrating on
her lifemate.
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Ditto, of course. >>
G'har slumps to the nearest bit of wall to the entrance, the better to
make his escape at the end of the flight. His dark green eyes, however,
are fixed on Kassima, despite being only half-focused.
E'vrin rolls his way around the wall until shoulders can brace him against
it, hold up the teetering near-fall. His face sharpens towards human
recognition in the wake of Shasta's glare, which he returns blankly,
helplessly, furious beyond his own rhyme and reason. And keeps shivering.
Lysseth> Oh, the unspeakable proddy Lysseth! She *is* a cruel one, for no
sooner have the last of her pursuers managed to get themselves settled in
than she twists on a wingtip to make a breakneck dive towards the Rim
below. Almost coyly, she herself turns aside from the rocky threat with
ease... knowing that *they* will have more difficulty. Hah! She's the
trickster, and trick them she will, until she can trick no more. Sort of a
trick-or-treat situation, in its odd way. Having fun yet, mortals?
Lysseth> Sharath rises into the paradox and skirling call, rides the
buffets that accost his narrow frame once out of the slipstream. Down,
around: he follows the diving twist, but who would prefer a mate of jagged
stone to /her/? No. Higher, higher yet: his wings strop the air as a knife
strops the stone, hard and fast and urgent, and if they don't quite draw
sparks ... well, no need to set paradox on fire, is there?
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth isn't lagging *yet*, but all things
considered, may start at any time. So all is forgiven if you promise to
forgive me the same straits. :)
Lysseth> The brown stretches through a cluster of dragons. Kvasith pulls
his wings closer against him as he picks up speed, Lysseth is all he
wants.
Lysseth> Falsanath, like love set fire, streaks after the glorious green,
edging past a pair of dragons. Not sparing breath for a bugle, he lets his
wings show his triumph, rising and falling in a metronomic rhythm and
pushing himself the farther. As she lowers, so he rises, attempting
desperately to cut off her dive and claim him for his own.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath seethes with animal fury. Taunt!
Tease! Be captured -- surrender! Oh, the call of burning ichor, and oh,
the taste of green on the wild winds that still remember snow -- but
surrender to them -- to him!
Kassima's glare didn't last long. She's now just as unfocused as anyone
else, for all that she attempts to retain some decorum in her casual
posture. She's not bothered. No, not at all. And wherries speak, porcines
fly, and the lowest highest point is in New York.
G'har mutters, his voice strained, "Don't. Mention. Lysseth." He closes
his eyes, inhaling a shuddering breath.
Lysseth> As Lysseth dives Adonith likewise twists and, after his
pirouette, lowers his finely shaped muzzle, tucks his wings against his
purplish-blue hide, and arrows toward the green's vanishing figure with a
challenging bellow that echoes his pleasure for the flight. The sound
heralds forth in a whitish cloud of blood-scented breath that hangs for a
half-second until its source disperses it, plunging through the center.
Aurian glances at Kassima lingeringly. She narrows her eyes at the
greenrider and maybe smiles a little.
E'vrin captures a breath, hoards it for his own, and uses it to balance
humanity in his mien like an overfilled water glass. He can look around.
He does. He fixes, after the shivering scan, on the center of calm
(appearances are enough for now). Lysseth's rider. (Kassima?)
Lysseth> Muinyth continues to rise, as the minute glowing form far above
that is Lysseth grows bigger, or seems to, as the green dives. Taking his
time, a single strong wingbeat takes the brown out of the rising thermal,
to wheel slowly in the direction she swoops in. But does he follow her
down? He's been in far to many such chases for that old trick to work -
instead he rides the winds crossing over the bowl, awaiting her return.
Lysseth> Lysseth is paradox, and palindrome; eternally changing and
eternally constant. Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical; dove-feathered
raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Dark, dusky wings trail tantilizing tendrils
of tourmaline illumination, kissing the clouds with their light as she
banks, spins--wheels back up, up, up. There are moons and stars for her to
catch, and surely none could follow her to Belior's surface itself? She
will go to the moon!
Alyssa looks not at the other riders; like her dragon, who studiously
ignores the males nearby, she is centered on the chase and its
consequences. Her eyes are closed tight, body taut with restrained
emotions that cause her body to reverberate in its needs.
Lysseth> Falsanath rumbles quiet frustration as Lysseth lofts once more,
taking her loveliness from her reach. Talons tightening as if plucking
flowers from the moon's surface--if only he were there! Then, at least,
he'd be above Lysseth, the better to swoop upon her. He does, however,
gain some ground, wings moving as if motorized.
Lysseth> Sharath streaks through Muinyth's chary shadow, his back to the
other's belly -- rises. Pale against night and small against vast, the
young male races his own heartbeat (echoed in pinions' proud lope) higher
yet -- oh, higher! -- towards her peak, fit to burst through cloud, into
night, and against the stars, against the moons ... against her.
Lysseth> Kvasith arches upwards higher and higher. He spins towards
Lysseth, with an almost serpentine movement he moves to avoid a blue.
Amber streaked wingsails are almost totally against him.
Kassima closes her eyes again, expression momentarily transfigured to one
of absolute bliss. To fly, perchance to escape... but there is, indeed,
joy in the sheer flying. And she knows better than to scorn the
opportunity to revel inbetween the far more frequent moments of
desperation.
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth is already having far too much fun with
this. Y'all are *fantastic*. :)
Lysseth> What goes up must come down? Muinyth seems to be a bit of a
paradox, as the brown who seems rent from a cliff's peak continues to
amble upwards. But yes! What goes down in a flight, comes back up again!
The brown strokes his wings through the air, casually offering Shareth a
warning snarl, but avaricious talons remain tucked up close to his belly.
Even a mudball such as he is concerned with wind resistance.
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath dragongrins at Lysseth. << It helps
that you're giving us so much to work with. :) >>
Dragon> Sharath bespoke Flight with << O, for a Muse of fire! :) >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Juliath may never Rise again. :)
Aurian slips off her jacket as she settles into a more comfortable place
on the stone. Cold stone rather toasty weyr.
E'vrin's breath hitches and nearly hiccups with surprise. Eyes widen with
other's dark vision, sweep the weyr (the sky?) again with harried urgency.
Hands skitter, discombobulated gossamer-spinners, across the wall, hunting
and seeking. He lurches forward a stiff step.
G'har's hands knot together. He holds his breath for a moment, then
exhales, hands falling to rest on his knees. He shakes his head, fingers
splaying.
Lysseth> Adonith is speed's ally and implores his wings to mirror
Lysseth's blazing demonstration of aerial agility and, mercifully, they do
so without complaint. Membranes luff with the chilly wind of Telgar's
wintry nights, flaring forward as his wings push backward to discard some
of the distance keeping him from that upward-surging female. To the moon
she goes? Then upward shall Adonith go too, sans complaint, sans fatigue,
sans concern.
Lysseth> Lysseth dances with the thermals for a moment longer, allowing
them to partner her in a brief aerial tango as, in the doing, she gains
more distance yet. But alas, alas... the moment must be cut short. Playful
innocence gives way to *purpose*: shall she go and live, or stay, and...?
Never! Wingsails sweep up, propelling her in a rocket-burst of speed that
sends her shooting up over the cloud-cover indeed. Attention, male
dragons: her body is not yet available!
Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Anyone get that last
reference? ;) >>
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Go and live, stay and die...um...
um... >>
Dragon> Falsanath bespoke Flight with << That'd be a no from me. >>
Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Ummmm no >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath is still trying to catch up with posing.
Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << No, no. That one's R&J; I meant the
last sentence. The Cat from Red Dwarf. :) >>
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Nope. >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth didn't think so, but, well... she
couldn't resist. :)
Lysseth> Falsanath hesitates the barest moment as Lysseth disappears, then
spirals after her, wings shattering a section of cloud to mist that seems
to cling to his sandstone-bronze hide for a moment before dissolving in
the heat of his movements. He does not loft as high as Lysseth, of course,
being larger and slower, but mirrors her course in all other respects.
Lysseth> Muinyth aims upwards, unconcerned with stars and moons, let
others strive for them! For he has seen the light, and she is Lysseth. And
she is above. That is all that matters. Again and again, he pushes at the
wind, wings marking the tempo of this dance. But still not the fluttering,
desperate wingstrokes of one frantic to catch up - he's far too laid back
for that. More of a southern drawl, sweet bluegrass rhythm, a gentleman.
Kassima takes a deep breath, eyes refocusing--if hazily--for a moment. It
figures. Her senses finally blurred, and it couldn't last. With a fleeting
scowl, she edges back closer to the sanctity of her cool stone wall. There
will be no welcome at *this* Guest Weyr Anthrax.
Lysseth> Kvasith twists startled at Lysseth. He doesn't give up though,
his determination never wearying as she continues to press onwards and
towards her as close as he can.
Lysseth> Sharath's snarl at Muinyth is lost in winds' rush: wan thunder,
to be sure. But ... no time, no time, as the dance calls, the paradox
chimes ice in fire, and he harries ever on. Through the clouds, which
grasp at him with a fretful lover's hands, he rises on hiccuping
wingbeats, seeking the rhythm and writing the flow.
G'har has gone straight to his own Armageddon, though this is hardly
willing. He manages one final mutter about big bronze throw-rugs, with a
mumbled addition about the need for alcohol. His senses, apparently, have
not quite blurred enough.
E'vrin's second step stilts him forward, then pushes him back over
balance's fulcrum. Stay by the wall, away by the wall, away from /her,/
that wicked, naughty one (but who would ever spank her?). He folds into
himself again, and watches the weyr distrustfully.
Shasta simply stands, wavering back and forth slightly as she rocks from
heels to balls of her feet. Her focus is blurry, her mind fixed on muscles
she does not posess, on sights she does not see - though the experience,
and desire, are shared. HEr breath comes in short, shallow motions, lips
slightly parted as her physical body mirrors the efforts of her lifemate.
Lysseth> Lustrous blue shimmers silvery white while Adonith skims the
surface of the clouds, playing with the thermals underlying that puffy
array of moisture. The thermals are a brief respite from his sprinting
before Lysseth's midair escapades remind him that his dancing partner may
await. He has no rose for her tango but, in all other respects, the pas de
deux he proffers is ever bit as passionate.
Aurian flicks her glance over Kassima. She sighs softly and almost
tenderly but she closes her eyes and rests her head against her hands.
Alyssa's eyes, purplish like her dragon, open to squint about her,
ignoring what she sees until they rest on Lysseth's rider. An
uncharacteristic gleam is within those irises, intensifying the longer
they behold Kassima's familiar figure.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath grasps like those clouds, like those
wraiths and wracks of mist -- where is she? The taste of her, the feel of
her, held by the wind for him to slide into and out of, again and again as
paths cross and recross -- /where/?
Lysseth> Lysseth maintains her blazing speed as long as she can, but...
never forever, nothing lasts forever; the Shadows--death, weariness,
gravity--make sure of that. So shall she still lead them on a merry chase
while her energy lasts? Yes! The moonlight shines upon her, as upon a
wicked blade, and she fares upon the sky-forged trail that fate's own hand
had made. She cries challenge, cold as peak-snows, frosty as the midnight
air, and would seek her refuge in a place, but none is there. She takes
the path quite gladly, aimed for triumph in the sky; sooner or later, she
must fall back... or will she stay there for aye?
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth apologizes for that poetic butchery, but
I've always wanted to use the Lost Queen's Ballad for something. :) Hrm...
capture poses after Lysseth's next?
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Shore >>
Dragon> Falsanath bespoke Flight with << Gotcha. :) >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Tierth, speaking for Muinyth, nodnods. :)
Lysseth> Kvasith continues on. Zipping towards her and her glowing green
zelf. Its been a long night and its starting to tell in Lysseth's flight
as he inches closer and closer.
Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Okies >>
Lysseth> Sharath cuts through Adonith's wind again, angling at Falsanath
for prime position -- for now, for now, for as long as the dance may hold
them in elegant, starfall thrall. Hard through the echoes of her cries, as
well, the pale body slices, on the edge of exhaustion and exhilaration;
his head throws up high, a ship's prow, into the streams, and he races for
the moons' harsh mistress.
Lysseth> Falsanath can't help but respond to Lysseth's challenge with a
bugle of his own, despite the fact that such noise steals needed breath.
His stony-bronze warmth, he is sure, is more than enough to melt that
chill. The bugle, however, dies as Sharath nears him, and his whippy tail
lashes out once more. The other male's nearness seems only to spur him
towards the green, wings beating endlessly with the stamina of his color.
Kassima begins to shake her head, an unconscious denial that her dragon--
she!--could be tiring at all. "Nay, nay, nay; Lyss, you *can't*, nay
now...." She's long lived in the state of confusion, but appears to be
vacationing in the state of denial.
Lysseth> Muinyth pushes on, defying gravity it seems upon earthen wings
that have little place in the sky. Weariness he ignores, and Death might
chase him as he chases Lysseth, but he seems to care little of that.
Naught matters but Lysseth. He eases between a blue and another brown, as
the blue falters with the effort of answering his quarry's call. Silent as
the depths of the caves his shadowed belly resembles, the rock-solid brown
ever continues his chase.
E'vrin has a passing acquaintance there, himself. His face melts and molds
with passing moments' fires, until confusion finds lasting hold. Again he
starts forward -- to the exit, to Lysseth's rider; doesn't matter -- and
again he falls back. Pendulum, wavering in earth's weighty grip ... oh,
but Sharath flies on--
Lysseth> Adonith cleaves the clouds with his elongated torso while, like a
baker with a citron, he asserts his strength to squeeze every drop of
aerial energy from his flagging frame. For countless moments he has warmed
himself, warmed his hearts, by the fiery blaze of her speed and, his prey
similarly fatigued, the time nears in which he proposes to return the
favour. He pays no mind to Sharath's position save a lightning-quick whip
of his tail when the other male nears, stretching himself and his limits
for the joy of answering Lysseth's challenge.
Aurian stands to her full height, short as it is, to glance at Kassima.
Her jacket slides off her lap and onto the floor as she listens to the
sounds of her voice.
G'har rakes a hand through his short hair, fingers clenching briefly in an
almost painful grip. "Faster," he mumbles. "Never mind him. Just go."
Lysseth> Lysseth reacts to the nearing of the dragons as if they
themselves were spurs, pushing ahead to the utmost--flogging herself for
every last bit of speed. If she should lose her strength and fall to the
hungry rocks below, at least she would die free! And yet... and yet. The
winds call, and straight on Lysseth pursues, in vain hope of glorious,
glorious escape. She had her comfort in control, once, but now she feels
remarkably as though destiny has given her a good, swift kick in the
tail.
Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Capture poses now, s'il vous
plait? :) >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith helps the bronzes. << That's to capture
the female, guys. >>
Earlier visible dispassion has given way to a white-hot glare of emotion
from Alyssa, who has risen to her knees and is staring openly at the
greenrider, hunger lending a gravity and darkness otherwise alien to the
gentle rider.
E'vrin's breath skips again; his eyes are on Falsanath's rider, then off.
No words, only sounds: another moan, throttled into determination's growl.
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath thbpppts Adonith. :)
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath gives a martyred sigh and considers
Lysseth instead of that fetching Adonith--
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith preens.
Dragon> Flight sense that Nraith swoons over Adonith... oh, wait...
Oh, serenity has fled the greenrider now. Kassi hasn't even the protection
of her dark glasses anymore, to shade her vision or keep her from seeing
what must be. Her fingers scrabble against the wall behind. How dare they
not leave an exit for her to use, or make the wall soft enough to claw her
way through to freedom?
Lysseth> Kvasith takes this chance now. A whip about a bronze and suddenly
there she is within range. He inches closer and stretches his wings to
foul hers with his. Its an attempt but it needs to be made. He tries....
Lysseth> Falsanath, despite the urgency of his movements, manages a
certain suaveness, an adrenaline-ladened high that pushes him towards the
glorious green, whippy tail and everlasting neck curling from below her
and her right in the hopes of bringing her down from above. A soft croon
of entreaty escapes him.
Lysseth> Approaching from the underside of Lysseth, tail and talons
outspread to envelop her in a secure and supple embrace, Adonith offers to
meld his destiny with hers, his essence with hers, his entire being with
hers. Angled beyond the noisome and deadly grasp of the lesser males, this
blue, this familiar and forthright blue, has position and puissance. She
is for him, and his hissing invitation confirms as much.
Lysseth> Sharath's wings spray laughter into the faces of the stars --
into the dragons near him, too, one streamlined blue and one sandstoned
bronze. The dance has two partners; the call has /one/ answer. And so, he
strains forward into the breach once more, neck and tail and talons
reaching, and he strives to jess Paradox, and he hurries to catch Glory.
G'har's gaze flickers briefly to E'vrin, but, with a dismissive gesture,
he turns quickly back to Kassi, hunger obvious in his gaze.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath tumbles, stumbles, rumbles -- the
ropes tauten with dance's race -- the knots pull and pull and pull -- and
would fire-born, fire-caught crystal prove sword enough to cleave them
both free?
Alyssa pushes to her feet now, sensing the end, sensing the beginning,
too. A steady, thrumming pulse appears in her temple, its beat one of
rampant physicality and desire, while she clenches her fists against the
urge to take command of the situation -now-.
Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Before I consult my judging panel
and try to make an almost impossible decision, I'd like to thank you all
*so* much. This has been an absolutely gorgeous flight, and I'm honored
beyond all telling. :) >>
Aurian heaves a weighty breath mental twining with her dragon tight and
continues to try and focus on something anything in the room.
E'vrin sees Falsanth's rider (mm; probably), but there are more important
issues at stake. Breathing is one. Standing is another. The ultimate,
though, is ... well, what /next/? He weaves forward, into the now.
Lysseth> Muinyth exerts nearly the last of his energy reserves, as he
springs upwards with a powerful surge, a mud-covered granite pebble
launched from a weyrbrat's slingshot! As Lysseth strives forward so does
he, with a calculated trajectory leading him to arc above her. Earthen
wings strive to foul with green, the sandstone cliff arch of his neck
reaching, should he succeed, he'll be ready. No mind is payed to the
others persuing her, the matter not - let them catch stars!
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath heys at Sharath. << That's sandstone!
Not sandstoneD! Not stoned! ;) And thank -you-, Lysseth. It was fun! >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath innocently polishes his halo. Hmm? ;)
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith smooches Lysseth and claps his wings for
the other males. Even the thbbting Falsanath. << This was a superfun
flight, and thanks Lysseth! >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Tierth's thrilled you let Muinyth chase! I've
had a blast :)
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath adds that for a first flight, this was
marvelous. Thanks from us, too. :)
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath smooches Adonith, but in a -manly-
way. ;)
Dragon> Flight sense that Tierth reads back and heeeyyyys, Sharath!
Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Oooh baby ooh baby. >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Kvasith chuckles.
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith twiddles Falsanath's thumbs.
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath yeek. << Neat trick. >>
Lysseth> Lysseth would borrow Death's own white steed if it promised
escape, the trident of Evil if it would provide safety--but she is too far
gone for either of these things. The last of the luminance drains and
bleeds from her, leaving only a dragon... a mortal dragon, exhausted and
faltering. With every last ounce of determination, she works to throw
herself upwards--but no; she is already caught, jessed, trapped. A scream
of denial and fury moderates into something a bit less objectionable as
she clings to Sharath, allowing his embrace to take the place of that of
the denied rocks below.
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith cheers the conquering hero!
Lysseth> Kvasith snarls as he drops away.
Lysseth> Kvasith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.
Dragon> Flight sense that Falsanath woo hoo! :)
Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Congrats >>
Alyssa's explosive reaction propels her toward the bowl, irritation
singing in her voice and actions.
Alyssa leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.
Lysseth> Muinyth never studied calculus, unfortunately for him. His
trajectory brings him over Lysseth, and he plummets, spent, groundwards.
Aurian manages to walk with some decorum as she exits.
Aurian leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.
Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth *whews*. That was one of the hardest
choices I've had to make yet; y'all keep getting better all the time! ;)
*Snugs.* Thank you all, so very much! :)
G'har gives E'vrin an utterly scathing look, but takes it no farther than
that, stumbling from the weyr.
Lysseth> Sharath's flight jerks forward, jerks /up,/ with the surprise --
has her. He has her, and he folds around her, bronze around green, flame
around fire, and his wings fling out again to stroke the air and caress it
and bring them both through the heart of light, together.
G'har leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.
Shasta, with dignity, pivots on her heel and heads out for the bowl, lips
pressed together into a line.
Dragon> Lysseth senses that Sharath falls into light, crystal and wine
through remembered rubies and ice, and perhaps they are both jessed, after
all.
Lysseth> Adonith howls his annoyance as his attempt misses and, rocketing
downward, he aims for the one bit of solace he desires.
Dragon> Flight sense that Tierth belatedly congrats Sharath! Great flight,
everyone!
Lysseth> Adonith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.
Shasta leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.
Dragon> Flight sense that Sharath waves thanks! Then has to go slow his
heartbeat. :}
Lysseth> Muinyth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.
Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith's rider smooches Sharath's rider, then
he leaves the DTU. Thanks again, Lysseth!
Lysseth> Falsanath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.
E'vrin's growls sharpens, then falls away as if sliced: the sword's
fallen, and /he's/ falling, and she's there at the end of the fall,
finally. /Finally./
Escape, denied; fleeing, forgotten--Kassi gives a wordless cry that echoes
her dragon's, reaching out to catch... and be caught in turn.