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Lysseth's Fourteenth Flight


Date:  February 10, 2000
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Southern Bowl, Feeding Grounds, 
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:  This was, as I said at the time, one *heck* of a 
comeback flight. :)  Lots of chasers, everyone posing beautifully, 
and Kassi finally getting a chance to draw one of her knives on a 
malerider--what could be better? ;)  Many thanks go to all who, in 
their participation, made this flight so fun.  Credit is also due (as
always) to Monty Python for the MP&tHG quotes, as well as to the 
creators of the musical 'Man of La Mancha' for the use of one or two
of their song lines.

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The Log:

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Keara glances up as Pierron hmphs, nodding to Kassima and then noticing
Aidan. "Baker's duties," she says.

Aidan is sitting down at the table as she speaks, her drink placed down in
front of her. She smilesat Keara. "Weavercraft's duties to you." She smiles
at Pierron and Kassima. "And you both as well."

"Welcome to Weyr Benden; we've got fun and games, we've got evil riders,
greenriders we won't name...." Something has Kassi cheerful. Could it be
the large carrisack looped over her shoulder, with its suspicious ichor
stains? The sound of singing fades a bit as she ducks into the kitchen,
ceases altogether there, and by the time she returns with no sack at all,
she's smiling almost placidly. Oh, yes. Her hands are also ichor-marked,
for the record. "I," she announces to the room, "love hunting. Truly, I do.
Did all the Death-In-a-Pot get drunk, or is any left?"

Keara blinks at Kassima, leaning back in her chair. "So this's Benden now?
And I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about the Death-in-a-Pot; I'd not
make something by that name." She smiles, tired.

Aidan smiles at Kassima. "I suppose if it killed everyone who drank it,
then there wouldn't be enough people left to finish it."

Kassima snorts loudly at that. "I *wish*. Nay, the song's about Benden,
'tis all. A'course you wouldn't make M'kla's Klah--only *I* make M'kla's
Klah." Ah, so that's what that pot is on the serving table that's emitting
such an acrid smell. Flipping her cloak back, Kassi slides table-wards,
grabs a mug, and pours just the smallest dollop of the corrosive liquid in.
"I don't think it's actually *killed* anyone yet," she muses, "but y'never
can be sure what 'twould do t'those who aren't greenriders. Either of you
want a mug?" Wow. She's asking, not demanding that they drink. Hunting
really must agree with her.

<Weavers> Kassima notes to Aidan that Kassi would normally be a lot
politer, offering duties and welcome and introduction and stuff. But when
proddy.... ;)

"I think not," says Keara, batting not an eye; proddy greenriders are a
dime a dozen. "Have klah already, and it's wild enough for me as is. 
Black."

<Weavers> J'lyn says, "Translation from Kassi-speak to English: Run like
hell."

<Weavers> Aidan says, "I don't mind :>"

<Weavers> Aidan says, "Aidan does the duties thing to get them out of the
way and that's about it ;)"

<Weavers> Aidan almost considers drinking that stuff ;)

Aidan smiles at Kassima. "I don't normally drink klah. What interesting
things have you spiced the recipe up with?"

"I can't say, Weaver," Kassima replies, with a firm shake of her head. "The
recipe is strictly secret, passed down t'me from its original creator. The
only thing that I can stomach t'drink when Lysseth's glowing." Her upper
lip curls upwards in a disgusted expression as she tops off the rest of her
mug with milk, of all things, diluting the tiny dollop of klah. "A'course,
thanks to Lysseth's timing, I can't drink it in full now. Nor eat raw meat.
Methinks 'tis a *conspiracy*."

Aidan nods. "Conspiracies do tend to pop up every once in awhile, don't
they? So can you stomach the stuff other times or is this the only time?"

Kassima shudders faintly, plunking into her chair at the head of the
Thunderbolt table and propping her booted feet up on the table itself.
Pierron must love this woman. "Faranth, nay," she growls after a couple of
long swallows of the milk-klah mix. "Only drink klah when Lyss's rising.
Disgusting stuff. But it does serve t'be keeping one awake."

Keara seems to be dozing off in front of the hearth, despite the empty klah
mug that threatens to drop from her hand.

Aidan nods and smiles. "I'd agree, at least the klah not being good. Not
that its bad, just that there are better things. And so I think I'll stay
away from that stuff." She nods at the klah concoction. "Because I don't
have a dragon that's glowing. At least I don't have to worry about having
to drink noxious drinks."

Kassima mutters, scrunching down in her seat, "Lucky you. Glowing dragons
are pains in the butt. And they make everyone else act like pains in the
butt. Mart wouldn't even take his pants off for me when I asked him to."
Ohhhh-kay. Keara is slanted a green-eyed glance, and the greenrider
speculates, "Now, *she* needs the Klah."

The mug drops, clunking against the floor. Kea wakes slightly, blinks, and
then shuts her eyes again.

Aidan smiles as she also turns to look at Keara. "Yes, I guess she could
use something. Sleep." She turns back to Kassima. "Well, it seems to me him
not doing what you want isn't a bad thing. A challenge can be good." Not
that she knows at all what she's talking about.

"But he *still* wouldn't do it even after I hit him with the fish!" Kassi
is decidedly petulant. "Even when I chased him around, hitting him with the
fish! All it got me was a bunch of bruises from running into him when he
*stopped*, the wherry-headed idiot." Considering Keara, she mulls, "We
could shave her head while she sleeps."

Aidan smiles. "But then you'd have to deal with her after your dragon flew.
You might not mind dealing with it now, but later it might not be so
interesting a prospect." She grins. "I don't know, I'm not sure if I'd do
everything that you said if you were chasing me around with a fish."

Too bad Kea's not awake; she'd enjoy that story about fish. But as it is,
she starts to snore slightly - maybe she's /dreaming/ about fish.

From somewhere, Faranth only knows where, Kassi produces a sharp-bladed
knife and begins trimming her nails with it. "I'm nay worried," she
assures, with a sardonic smile. "Well, then. If'n you were a brownrider,
what *would* I have t'be doing t'get you t'be drinking yon klah? I covered
him with fish juice and innards, I knocked him over, I threatened t'pour
the klah in his lap and see whether 'twould demasculinize him... naught
worked. Entirely unfair. We could put fish-tails in her hair?"

Aidan laughs. "Or we could let her sleep, that's another possible idea. I'm
sure its better than the headache it would cause later." She smiles. "I
happen to like my hair, so don't get any ideas."

Keara snorks loudly, then it's cut off as she rolls over slightly and curls
up.

Kassima scowls in the Baker's direction. "But if'n we leave her asleep,
she'll keep making those *sounds*," she points out. A bread-roll is snagged
from a nearby plate and hefted consideringly. "Nay worries, Weaver. After
having t'deal with threats to m'own hair, 'tis nay likely 'twould damage
anyone else's. But putting fish tails in it wouldn't *damage* it,
precisely, just...." Make it smell like dead fish?

Xin walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Xin drags himself tiredly into the cavern, done with a long day's work

Lysseth> Veyath backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> K'nan climbs down from Veyath's neck, and arrives on the ground.

Lysseth> The joyful screech of talon on rock is clearly audible in the Bowl
tonight. Lysseth, blissfully oblivious--perhaps--of what aural damage she
might be causing has chosen claw-sharpening as tonight's activity, and many
are the scattered stones that bear her mark. The arriving Veyath is favored
with a ruby-eyed glare and a warning snarl. Don't crowd her, now.

Kassima is sprawled in her chair with her feet propped up on the table,
drinking from a large mug of something. Probably better not to ask what.
"If'n asked," she abruptly asks the Journeywoman Weaver, "could you make a
costume in the shape of a tent peg?"

Lysseth> Veyath settles gracefully to the bowl floor, wings folding back
along her sides.. and she casts Lysseth an almost amused look, eyes
swirling a touch as she sniffs in the other green's direction. She -taught-
Lysseth that claw-scratching thing. So there. She's just moving over to the
far side of the bowl because she wants to. Really. Casting a wary glance
towards the proddy one, K'nan strides along inside..

Xin installs himself at a long table with other faceless and anonymous
lower caverns types. Each is about as tired-looking as the next, or
previous. Which is to say, they're all worn out and overworked.

K'nan walks in from the bowl.

Aidan blinks at Kassima. "Um, I might not be the best and making...unique
outfits. I focus on tapestries, there are better people at making clothing
than me. I could do it, just there are better."

Keara, for her contribution to tired support staff, is asleep in her hearth
chair, empty klah mug on the floor beside her.

"Well, could you pass on the request for such a thing t'someone who *does*
make such?" Kassi questions, over the rim of her DeathKlah mug. "We need
it, y'see. T'be tormenting Mart. But I can't go *between*... and our *dear*
Weyrsecond has decided t'be bloody well grounding me so I can't go
*anywhere* without an escort." That's snarled outright; no, Kassi isn't at
*all* happy about it. And for the moment at least, she's too focused on her
own problems to notice any overworked Staff people. She does, however, call
to all newcoming types, "Hey. Drink the Klah." Not really phrased as a
request, is it?

"I'm not here for klah," K'nan returns firmly, "I'm here t'get myself
something t'eat, an' maybe some wine." He walks along from the bowl
entrance, where he's just walked in, towards his goal.

Aidan nods. "I'll pass on the request ma'am." She smiles at the newcomers
herself. "I woudln't suggest it."

Aidan says "the klah that is."

Xin summons the leverage to lift a mug. Slowly -- painfully -- he lifts the
mug to his lips to drink, nay, to sip.

Kassima corrects, with an edge in her voice, "Kassima. Never ma'am. And I
*would* suggest it." But as the first part registers in her brain, she
relaxes some, and nods. "Excellent. 'Twill also be needing several kilts,
but that's less urgent than this. There's fish and tunnelsnake then, K'nan,
but you really should drink the klah. Really. 'Tis M'kla's--I finally
perfected the recipe she left me."

Telgar Weyr> Xin says, "Perfected? M'kla already achieved perfection a
dozen times over. :)"

"Oh," K'nan seems to change his mind, looking up and over, "M'kla's? I'm
sure y'could never go it s'well as she, but let's have some an' see how
y'did.." He heads over towards the greenrider, then..

Telgar Weyr> Xin says, "She was simply choosing to limit her klah in order
to conform with local arms control regulations!"

I'sai walks here from the Inner Cavern.

I'sai doesn't so much enter the main cavern as to just poke his head out,
scoping out the territory, including who's where ... and where the firing
lines seem to be.

Telgar Weyr> K'nan is not going to comment about kilts. Not after that..
Southern Boll incident.

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Which one?"

Keara snores again, though more quietly this time, her arm flung out over
the chair's edge.

Aidan smiles at Kassima. "So is this what you do when you're dragon is
ready to rise, terrorize people? Sounds fun. What would you use the outfit
for though?"

Kassima's eyes widen in affront. "I *could*," she hisses to K'nan, flinging
her legs off the table to straighten and stalk over to the pot. "I *did*.
It made M'dei *squeak*." A mug is poured, held out, almost in challenge.
"Drink, then!" She's by the serving table at this point, glaring at K'nan,
but everyone else seems safe... for now. "Nay, I terrorize people all the
time," she assures Aidan. "Just in different ways. We're going t'have
L'cher wear it t'be... surprising... an old friend of mine."

Xin juggles his mug to his other hand with surprising agility. Then, slumps
back into his chair, a deep snore sliding out of his lips.

"M'dei jus' needs oiling," comes K'nan's response, his lips curving in a
broad grin as Kassima glares his way.. and he reaches out to curl his
fingers around that out-thrust mug of Klah, "An' you stopped truly
inspiring /terror/ some Turns ago, Kassi.."

I'sai does a second check for -fishing- lines, then walks deeper into the
cavern with a good semblance of nonchalance: after all, it only catches
their attention when you run. No, he's just walking, more or less towards
the hearth.

"How *dare* you," Kassi hisses at K'nan, fingers curling into tight fists.
"If'n 'tis so, then is it nay an insult t'*your* teaching, oh, mentor mine?
But as it happens, 'tis nay so. Even *Mart* still flees from me." Even
Mart? Well, ostensibly, he *has* had the most opportunities to become
immune to Kassi, so....

K'nan sniffs, "Mart flees from /Kena/ sometimes.." And then, lifting the
mug of mysterious goop, he tilts it back to take a long swallow..

Keara continues snoring evenly, her breathing rhythmic and as yet
undisturbed by the goings-on.

"Kena's frightening, too," Kassi objects. "She's *my* Wingsecond, after
all." Wing pride evidently takes precidence over greenrider rivalry. "*All*
right, then, if'n you don't believe--what proof shall I offer this
wher-brain of m'ability t'cause terror?" she demands of the Cavern in
general, flinging out an arm to point to K'nan. "Suggestions? Requests?"

M'rgan walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Pierron raises an appraising eyebrow at the Wingleader of Skyfire.

M'rgan strolls casually but a bit lopsidedly into the living cavern,
humming a bright tune. His hair is damp, as if he just came from the hot
springs. As he catches sight of Kassima the humming stops and he edges over
to the serving table, using passing folk as cover.

I'sai does pick up speed to some degree, lest his entrance be linked with
M'rgan's; once at the hearth, he eases around Keara's chair and keeps it
between himself and the rest of the room as he hunkers down and stretches
out his hands to the warmth: just getting warm, that's the story.

Somebody's making noise, now; Keara pries one eye open and her snoring
stops - but all she sees, in her position, is the fabric of the chair arm.

The klah mug is lowered, and considered.. K'nan's lips pursing as he judges
the worth of the substance within. Or perhaps his heart has failed, and
he's trying to mentally re-start it.

Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth taps the OOC mic. << Heya, all. I'll
be going up over Telgar Weyr real soon now; blooding will start in about
fifteen minutes. Interested males are invited to come on over, and don't
forget to join the +flight channel. :) >>

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Okay, I gotta go! Later!!"

Dragon> Toniath bespoke Flight with << Nooooo, not more Telgari greens! >>

Telgar Weyr> K'nan says, "..odd, that coincidental timing.. ;) Later 
A'lex!"

Telgar Weyr> Neliea chuckles at the timing of that. See ya!

Telgar Weyr> I'sai laughs, and waves!

Telgar Weyr> A'lex really DOES have to go, but that gave me a good out. :)

Dragon> Aminadath bespoke all dragons with << Blood, knives, and
emasculation. Guys, hide. ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Chaedanth seems puzzled << Why not? They are some
of the quickest and most witty of all greens. Why not more? >>

The silence deepens Kassi's frown, of course, and elicits a scowl
distributed equally through the room--a scowl which allows her to notice
the arrival of the maleriders. "Mart! I'sai! Tell K'nan I'm terrifying!"
she demands at her most imperious. Assuming K'nan's still legally in the
land of the living.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth peers at +flights. I don't think it could
handle any *more*. ;)

Aidan smiles sweetly at Kassima. "I believe you, really. There's no doubt
in my mind that you're one of Telgar's most terrifying." She hides a grin
in a sip of her juice.

I'sai, from his hideout, waves ever so deferentially in his wingleader's
direction.

Dragon> Flight sense that Toniath grins. S'what I meant. Talk about
coordinating cycles among friends.

M'rgan pokes his head out from behind one of the burly miners in the line
at the serving table. "You're terrifying." And then he ducks back behind
the larger man, pretending to study the contents of the serving table.

Dragon> Taralyth bespoke Flight with << ...And then it's cold wherry for
the rest of the Turn. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Chaedanth grumbles at the mush

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth grins. We're contagious, I guess. ;)

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << OHOH! Flight! >>

"Adequate," K'nan finally says, nodding towards the mug, "Not quite
M'kla's.. but it'll do, it'll do." A mischevous gleam alights the back of
his eyes, as he turns a bright smile to Kassima.

Rather nice fabric, too, isn't it. Kea pushes herself upward, the fabric's
pattern etched on her cheek.

Kandri walks in from the bowl.

Lysseth> Chaedanth lumbers here from the north.

Zander walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Lysseth> Kazeth backwings for a landing.

Kandri strides in with a smile and a package in hand. Stopping she waves to
those about, then takes a moment to peer. Blye eyes start to search for
someone specific in the caverns, lips pursing slightly.

Kassima spins to beam in a truly satisfied fashion at her mentor. "See?"
she purrs, sounding Smug. Oh, how Smug. "I *am*. They hide from me and tell
me I'm evil and--" Of course, her pride breaks off at this latest from
K'nan. She. Has. Had. Enough. Grabbing for the handle of the klah pot with
one hand, and for the waist of the other greenrider's pants with the other,
she attempts to tip the entire container of M'kla's klah down K'nan's
trousers. It's a good thing it's stopped being scalding hot some time 
since.

I'sai straightens, slowly, the rest of the way; he pushes his sleeves
halfway up his forearms, as if that'd do any good. "So, Keara," he says
amiably enough. "Wouldn't you like to visit the ... training center, right
around now."

Zander wanders in, hitching up his pants with his thumbs and heading over
to inspect the meatrolls.

Lysseth> Kazeth settles himself down gently, Schmitt pulling her jacket
closer about herself with one hand as she unstraps with the other. Her
strap sticks, and she curses as she pulls at it, Kazeth rumbling his
amusement.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth rubs her foreclaws together, and twists
her fake handlebar moustache in anticipation. << All right, then. Can we
get a show of wings from those who've decided to brave the ter--err, chase
me? Yeah, that's the ticket. >>

Keara blinks at I'sai, yawning. Then she glances around, blinks, and
reaches up to straighten her hair. "I would?"

Lysseth> Chaedanth settles down comfortably, wings ruffling, and looks
about the bowl. Contented blueish green eyes spot a glowly lady taking her
ease and rest upon Lysseth for long moment. Then the brown turns his head
to eye the sky, seeming to consider the weather.

Dragon> Flight sense that Kazeth should probably consider backing out,
after /that/. :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Chaedanth raises both wings in his excitement <<
Oh! Me! Me my fair lady! I love trouble, so hopefully I can make it 
double! >>

At the sound of a commotion, M'rgan peeks around the miner once again. And
he smirks broadly at the sight of Kassima trying to pour the klah down
K'nan's pants. Finally a greenrider inflicts damage on another greenrider
and leaves the innocent and sweet brownriders alone. Resuming that humming
he was doing earlier, the brownrider makes his selections from the serving
table.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith trumpets << Ooooh! Ooooh! Mr. Kotter. >>

Lysseth> Lysseth is still huddled around her collection of rocks, claws
busy turning them to dust with as much aural dissonance as naturally
possible. The arrival of yet *more* males--jeeze, aren't there enough of
these guys polluting the atmosphere already?--is greeted by a fang-baring
snarl. Hello. Welcome to Telgar. Now get out of *her* Bowl, why don't you.

Lysseth> A good distance deeper into the bowl, deeper into the sunshine,
that's where Taralyth'd settled; now his head lifts at the foreigners'
arrivals, warbled greeting near-silent, and he rises to a talons-curling
crouch.

Lysseth> Cyameth backwings for a landing.

Dragon> Flight sense that Taralyth waves a wingtip.

Aidan turns and watches Kassima, eyes wide. She doesn't say anything, she
just watches with curiosity.

"/KASSI!/" That yelp is, of course, K'nan's as a good portion of that klah
manages to get down his trousers before he's able to pull away.. eyes
widened, then narrowing as he glares at the other greenrider.. "I'll get
you for that one, Kass.."

Lysseth> Quinaeth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Alane slides down to the ground from Quinaeth's back.

Lysseth> From atop Kazeth, Schmitt yanks harder at her strap, cursing even
more loudly. "Terrilia," she wails, "it won't come loose." Kazeth is
obviously finding this all very amusing, his rumbling laughter encouraging
the other dragons to join his fun.

"You could ask about the smelling and taste connection," I'sai drums up a
reason. "Ceria would be happy to find out, see."

Alane walks in from the kitchen.

Lysseth> Terrilia slides down from Cyameth's neck to the ground. Cyameth
croons contentedly and gently noses his lifemate as he sees she is safely
down.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth beams. Excellent. :) Blooding starts at
your leisure then, gents--Feeding grounds are CB, FG from the Southern 
Bowl.

Keara nods slowly, still dazed from sleep. "Oh. Sure. Of course." Not that
she's any idea what he's talking about."

Kandri goes just a bit wide eyed at the greenrider's pants pouring. "Oh
my." she says plainly, the package in her hands forgotten. Glancing about
she tries to scurry closer to another staring rider. "Have you seen
Maylia?" she asks in a hurried voice.

Lysseth> Terrilia looks up at Schmitt. "You can't get down?" she says in
disbelief. "Where's it stuck? Maybe I can get it."

Alane wanders in looking for...someone. Spotting Kandri she nods. "Heya.
What are you doing here. I've got a message for Jerissa. Reaches duties by
the way."

Dragon> Flight sense that Kazeth ponders the logisitcs of a flight with a
stuck rider, and lol.

Lysseth> Chaedanth growls in a lusty fashion, purple tinging his facets.
With a small leap he goes into a low glide and towards the center bowl.
He's got a nagging for some grub and its not your normal fast food either.

Lysseth> Chaedanth lumbers north.

Telgar-Bowl> Chaedanth springs into the air for a quick flight over the
fence and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Lysseth> Quinaeth lumbers north.

Kassima smiles. Oh, she smiles. That sweet, sweet smile of a greenrider who
has just managed Evil and fears no retribution. "Nay, you won't. You don't
dare, because *I'm* terrifying and *you're* nay, neener, neener, neener!"
This last is accompanied by an impromptu jig. Maybe the greenrider's had a
bit too much klah herself.

Alane just stares at Kassima.

Telgar-Bowl> Above, Ularrith flies over from the south end of the bowl.

Telgar-Bowl> Above, Ularrith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Kandri blinks in suprise at seeing Alane, but smiles and nods. "Hello." she
replies, then grimaces as the rider knows not where Maylia is. "Shards..."
she turns to look for another to ask...preferably not jigging greenrider.
Finding M'gran she smiles at him and asks, "Have you seen maylia?"

Lysseth> From atop Kazeth, Schmitt tugs relentlessly at the unyielding
strap, "Stuck. Here. It won't come loose. Did this the other day and I fell
off when it did come loose."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth thinks she fears that, Kazeth. But your
rider probably should fear it more. ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Cyameth joins the chase, too :)

Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith barrels down into the feeding
grounds, only backwinging at the last second to keep from splatting into
the bowl floor. This causes a great deal of dust to fly and sends the
animals nearby into a stampede that shakes the fence. The brown turns
quickly whirling eyes on this fleeing food.

"Maybe not today, greenrider.. maybe not tomorrow.." K'nan gazes at Kassima
with a rather un-amused look last seen when encouraging a certain bluerider
to 'drink more wine', "..but soon. Oh yes. Soon."

Lysseth> Cyameth 's eyes whirl faster, purple, and he raises his head and
looks toward the feeding pens. He rumbles.

Dragon> Flight sense that Kazeth hmms, it /would/ be interesting. Chortle.

Alane has never quite seen anyone quite like Kassima proddy.
"I...er...uhm...huh, Jerissa for scrolls, I think."

"Well, then," I'sai says, and starts buckling up his flight jacket. "And
we'll just - " he breaks off, all at once.

Dragon> Flight sense that Quinaeth is in.

Lysseth> Taralyth swings a glance towards the pens as well, even as the
first blood-slash tears the calm sky there; and then he turns back to look
long at Lysseth - never mind her rocks, nor Kazeth's strap-troubles - just
looks, and looks, till at last he tosses his head and takes wing.

Lysseth> Taralyth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to
carry him aloft.

Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Chaedanth glides in and over the
grounds low, eyeing the herds as they start. Red tinges begin to taint the
calm blues of his eyes as hunger nags. The first noise uttered, since his
arrival, is a challenging roar upon a dive. Going straight for a clumped
group of fattened wherrys. Their deaths are quick as they become spitted
upon his claws, their blood dribbling over his paws. A shake and they
detatch from the sharp talons and his blooding begins.

M'rgan wipes at his mouth and chin, rubbing out the drippings that stain it
from the slice of wherry he stuffed in his mouth. "Not in the last hour,"
he mumbles through the food. Suddenly his face goes crimson and he
staggers. "Shard it."

Lysseth> Cyameth rumbles louder, looking at Kazeth, then Lysseth, then
toward the feeding pens, then toward Lysseth again.

Kassima only grins at K'nan. Only grins. But my, what numerous teeth you
have, greenrider. "Never," she repeats in a voice brimming with
satisfaction. "Never, never. Fast as fast can be, you'll *never* catch--"
Oh, and speaking thereof; she breaks off abruptly to wheel to face the
Bowl, wide-eyed. "*Lysseth*!" she yells. "Can't you *ever* let me bloody
fardling well finish killing somebody *first*?"

Keara repeats stupidly, "We'll just? Just what?"

Aidan looks at I'sai and then M'rgan, her eyes curious, and just a little
worried about the change.

Kyril> From the air, Taralyth chooses a few short wingbeats to send him
into a glide, casting a long shadow across the bowl as he passes low
overhead, hunting.

Telgar-Bowl> Above, Taralyth flies over from the south end of the bowl.

Alane drops the scroll container from numb fingers and stalks wordlessly
out to the bowl.

"Oh, I think /someone's/ going to catch you tonight, Kassi," K'nan flashes
a sudden, wicked grin, "Have fun." Turning, then, he grumbles, "Someone get
me a towel.. and something else to wear.."

Telgar-Bowl> Quinaeth springs into the air for a quick flight over the
fence and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Lysseth> Kazeth peers over at that green, abruptly leaving off his
amusement. He shifts uneasily, compounding Schmitt's problems. "Hold still,
you lousy lug," she yelps, and then as the strap breaks she pitches off
head-first.

Lysseth> Lysseth drops her stones, all at once, and those sharp, sharp
talons cut into the sand of the Bowl. An irate hiss is tendered towards the
Living Cavern; eyes flare, wings flare, and she's aloft--shrieking a final
parting note to herald her departure.

I'sai rubs his palms up his temples, missing the weaver's glance and nearly
the baker's question; "Never mind," he says. "It was - call it a joke."

Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft.

Telgar-Bowl> Cyameth lumbers here from the south.

Kandri makes a face, but nods and sighs. Moving to ask another rider she
stops suddenly. The blue orbs of her eyes draw distant and a snarl curls
her lips. Carefully, so that her clenching hands do not hard it, she sets
the package for Maylia down. "Looks like I'm stuck here." she says in a
grumpy fashion. Those eyes that were so distant suddenly come into focus on
the dancing greenrider. Only a moment does the brownrider get to glare at
Kassima, before she smiles in a dreamy fashion.

Telgar-Bowl> Above, Taralyth's circle tightens; he stoops, though waits
till his second pass over the pens before he strikes, and kills.

Telgar-Bowl> Cyameth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Lysseth> Kazeth rises up from the bowl.

Lysseth> From the north, Taralyth flies downward towards the feeding 
grounds.

"Go shove a wherry up your nethermost orifice," Kassima suggests to K'nan
in a barely-comprehensible snarl, dropping the klah pot to shatter on the
floor below before storming out to the Bowl. "I am going t'kick *such*
dragon butt."

Lysseth> Kazeth flies towards the north end of the bowl.

Telgar-Bowl> Above, Kazeth flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Quinaeth is known for taking his time
but when he makes a decison he sticks with it. Of course the herdbeast he
just knocked down and stomped on doesn't know that. He doesn't really care
either as the Mighty Quin lowers his maw to drink the rich warm blood.

Alane comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> You fly towards the north end of the bowl.

Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds.

Kandri comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Telgar-LC> M'rgan speaks to the ceiling for an instant as he recovers his
balance. Though his cheeks remain a bright red. "You know, I didn't
/really/ want to take my pants off tonight." He grumbles a few additional
comments under his breath and then stuffs as much food into his mouth as he
can, not paying any attention to niceties like utensils or not displaying a
mouth full of food to others. One way or another this is the last food he's
going to get tonight.

Telgar-LC> Keara curls back up in her chair, "Oh. Well. Fine. It didn't
seem funny, though."

Lysseth> Cyameth bugles, then makes a short, vicious leap to snare a
passing herdbeast. He looks around, eyes whirling violet, then drinks deep
of the poor creature's blood.

Telgar-LC> "Right. But you're going to. And this is your fault, so just
give me your pants before you go, Mart," K'nan declares in defiance of all
logic, holding out one hand to his wingleader.

Telgar-LC> I'sai drops his hands, and eventually says quite politely to
both crafters as he passes them, "I'm sorry. Excuse me. We'll be back. No
doubt it'll be more funny then."

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Okay, real quick, here are the rules
and regs. :) One pose per Lyss-pose, please; no line limit, and no limit on
rider poses. The flight channel will be OOC, the Guest Weyr IC. We'll go up
two skyspaces from the feeding grounds once the blooding stops. Any
questions? :) >>

I'sai comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << Where's the guest weyr? >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Chaedanth raises a wingtip << Can we bring
popcorn? >>

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << From the Southern Bowl, it's 'GW.'
And sure, so long as you share. ;) >>

Terrilia swallows and looks around as riders emerge from the Living Cavern.
Low, to Schmitt, she says, "I wondered why he was so eager..."

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << Thanks. >>

Telgar-LC> M'rgan blinkblinkblinks at K'nan as he lifts his face from his
plate for a few seconds. "What?? If I wouldn't take them off while Kassi
was threatening to skewer me, why would I take them off for you?" And
another slice of wherry gets shoved into that gaping hole he sometimes uses
for speaking.

Lysseth> Kazeth swoops down from the sky and wastes no time in choosing a
fat brown herdbeast, pouncing upon it to quickly bring it down and to its
death, placid eyes glazing over in a few seconds as Kazeth bloods.

Lysseth> Chaedanth greedily nurses from the gut of the first downed wherry.
It's crimson lifeforce leaking down his throat, but also staining brown to
crimson. No remaining blue traces across his facets, which now whirl
tempest-like, and instead are a maelstrom of red and violet. As the green
joins in the fun, they turn to adore her lithe figure. Only for a moment,
though, for the instictual thirst burns hhis own gullet. Chae finishes one
wherry, then the other in relatively quick succession. Then he is on to
more of a variety, going for another round in the drive through. Another
hop lands him a herdbeast burger, as the animal is squished slightly flat
under his bulk.

Alane watches Quinaeth avidly. She swallows in unison with her lifemate as
if she were the one blooding.

Schmitt stays on the ground, finally bringing up a hand to rub at her head.
"Ow," is all she says.

Lysseth> Lysseth does not, for this one time, drop immediately to the
grounds; no, she circles first to survey her choice of victims. Not the
male dragons. Not yet. She has no interest in *those*--the beasts are what
she wants, and once she has one chosen, she drops upon it like the
thunderbolt her Wing is named for to shatter the spine and crush the bones
of the buck herdbeast in one swell foop. Screaming her triumph, she lowers
her teeth to fasten curving fangs into its throat. Sluurrrrrrrrrrp.

Telgar-LC> Aidan smiles at K'nan. "You could always wrap yourself in a
tapestry and walk around that way." She raises the glass to her lips before
pausing and putting it back down. She looks at him. "I wasn't really
serious about that though."

"Shardit, shardit, *shardit*, beast," Kassi chants, hugging her arms close
to herself as she glares, glowers towards the Feeding Grounds and far-off
speck of green. "Don't even fight me. Don't *even*."

Telgar-LC> K'nan shakes his head, offering some more greenrider-esque
logic, "Because I'm your friend, Mart, and I had to deal with you when you
were jus' a kid, me an' Aph, and don't make me bring up.."

Telgar-LC> That trails off, ominously.

Lysseth> Ularrith has his jaws fastened around a bull's neck and he gives
the bovine a few shakes so that his fangs can get a better grip on it. He
doesn't notice the ghastly *crack* that accompanies the last shake though
he does rumble with pleasure as the animal stops that troublesome wriggling
around. Blood begins to drizzle down his chin, mixing with the dirt there.

Kandri walks out from the caverns, following on Kassima's `tail'. The
attention of the brownrider is mainly centered on the same `tail', though
she sees doubles. Both from her lifemate's gaze and her own, lustfully
aimed one.

Lysseth> Cyameth watches the lovely green longingly, raising his head from
the drained herdbeast in his talons. His eyes follow her until she's caught
her own beast

Lysseth> Quinaeth bugles a greeting to the loveliness that is Lysseth. Such
beauty. Such charm. Such a nice glowing hide. What a nice name and what big
teeth you have, my dear. Perhaps his bugle was a challange to the other
males. Either way another herdbeast hits the dust to add the young blue
with it's life giving energy.

Lysseth> Taralyth's talons neatly cage his wherry even in its death throes,
its wings fanning against the underside of his paws, his dark muzzle
releasing its neck only to lave long licks along its throat to sop up the
spurting lifeblood. He's silent but for that, a tidy drinker so early in
his cups, though at the scream - _her_ scream - his neckridges prickle back
and even his wings wrinkle back against the tense muscle of his flanks.

Lysseth> Kazeth takes his time with this first, pleasant herdbeast,
ribboning slivers of hide off with his claws as he drinks deep of the
blood. Finishing, he lifts his head to eye Lysseth, rumbling soft and
ominous as he pierces the thoroughly drained herdbeast with one long, sharp
talon.

Lysseth> Cyameth tosses the carcass he holds away. Another. He launches
himself, does a quick turn, and neatly snares another herdbeast--but
there's nothing neat about the way he tears it open and, hissing, slakes
his thirst.

Telgar-LC> M'rgan shovels up the remaining cooked greens into his hand and
drops the now empty plate onto the table. He looks at his pants, he looks
back at K'nan, and he starts to shake his head. "As much as I fear you,
K'nan, no way." Then, scooping up a napkin, he tosses it towards the
greenrider. "Have this instead," and starts to scoot towards the bowl.

I'sai's fair head lifts from its frame of palms, turning, sniffing at the
air. Something smells... fishy.

Telgar-LC> "Hmf." K'nan declares, accepting the napkin from the air.. then
shaking his head, "Well, fine, then." Darn. And it was such a good bluff, 
too.

M'rgan comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Terrilia sways slightly, shakes her head. She walks over to Schmitt and
offers her a hand up.

Lysseth> The green's arrival has already attracted many attentions, not
limited to the Reachian males. Yet for now the brown of the pair is taking
care of the first nag: blooding. His herdbeast feast was short lived, pun
intended, and now he searches for one last drink. One last victim to finish
off a gloriously well prepared dine out. The answer to his wishes is
answered as Lysseth's presence sends a group of ovines his way. One plump
calf finds it's way into his talons. Huge gouges rake along the small
animal's sides and spill it's blood forth. Just desserts for his appetite.

Lysseth> Lysseth pauses mid-motion in tearing out the throat, her intent
being to feast at *last*, finally have the food so long denied her--but
after so many Turns, her rider knows how to bend her to her will.
Screeching displeasure and defiance, the green nonetheless rends her kill
only enough to let the hot, still-weakly-pumping blood flow into her mouth,
over long teeth, serving to fuel and intensify her Aura of Dragonglow 10'.
Hindclaws lash out before she's even finished to catch the tender
belly-skin of a wherry that wasn't quite fast enough--and with a casual
swat, she dismisses the first carcass to drain and drink the second.

M'rgan vacuums up a few of the cooked greens he's holding, one after
another getting sucked into his mouth as he walks out. His gaze wanders
across the bowl, to where all hell has erupted in the feeding grounds.

Schmitt blinks up at Terrilia. "Shards," she says, "that's going to leave a
knot." Her eyes flick warily over to Kassi, "And I doubt somehow that I've
time to go find a healer. I hate flights."

Kassima closes her eyes and lets a breath go that she didn't know she was
holding. "Good," she breathes. "Good. Blood it, Lyss. We'll need the blood
t'be outflying *them*." Breaking off communion with her dragon for a
moment, she casts a narrow-eyed look around the Bowl at the malerider
contingent, visibly sizing up and dismissing each. She can tackle them all
single-handed. Right.

Alane chuckles as Schmitt's remark. "Not me." But whether she speaks for
herself or Quin it doesn't really matter.

Terrilia swallows, hard. "How many times has Kazeth chased? Cyameth hasn't,
before." She shakes her head, as if to clear her vision.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Does take-off after my next blooding
pose sound all right to everyone? :) >>

Kandri shudders remotely from the link between herself and Chaedanth. His
lusty hunger having the obvious physical effects on his rider. Kan closes
her blue eyes and breathes deeply as her fists now clench and loose.
Gaining some control of her own bodily functions the brownrider opens her
eyes once more. Now a sense of control shows in the wingsecond's orbs and
she smiles slyly.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Whatever you wish, if my 
command! >>

Lysseth> Quinaeth keeps one eye on the 'lovely' lady as he ends the life of
another herdbeast. Flinging it away he accidently throws it against a
brown. Oh well, he was finished with it and his orange/red eyes turn full
on Lysseth. He's ready.

Lysseth> Kazeth draws out his now-scarlet talon quickly, launching his
whiplike body into the air to pounce on an animal of unknown persuasion,
shredded as it is as soon as he's on it. Whatever it was, its blood's half
gone and the blue pauses to bugle towards Lysseth before the rest of the
blood's taken.

Lysseth> Ularrith whips his tail to one side as the dessicated bovine
carcass falls from his mouth, slamming a ram into the wall of the bowl and
flattening it. Twirling around, the dragon bends his head over the pancaked
corpse and after a little bit of slashing from his talons, he proceeds to
lick up the blood pooling there before it can be absorbed by the dry 
ground.

Schmitt decides to stay on the ground, wincing as she pushes herself to a
cross-legged position, and waves of Terri's hand carefully. "A few," she
says somewhat woozily. "Umirieth. Some other green. An' then some other
green. An' maybe another green as well."

Lysseth> Cyameth tosses away the gory remains of his last herdbeast and
just watches Lysseth now. His whole body is taut with tension and his eyes
whirl rapidly. Waiting.

Lysseth> Taralyth abruptly trades one tension for another, paw crumpling
his first kill's corpse with his weight as he launches across and halfway
into a second hapless wherry; this one he deliberately lets pass with but
that bruising impact, in favor of crooning his way up to a terrified
third's throat: chaotic neutral, he.

Lysseth> Chaedanth whips his head up after the draining of his last. Muzzle
opening to the sky as he screams a racous and lusty note to the heavens.
Crimson drips from his chin and rivulets left over run down his neck in
graceful streams. As the notes die from his throat they are thrown about
the bowl's walls and slowly fade into distance. Glowing eyes turn to the
object of everyones desire this night, Lysseth, and he croons a more
singular call to her. The notes rising and falling with his breath.

Terrilia puts her hand back at her side and just nods vaguely to Schmitt,
her breathing quickening. She doesn't seem to see the other riders at all 
now.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth glints blue-diamond, black-diamond: at
last, at -last-. And then as abruptly he's gone; or is he?

Lysseth> Lysseth doesn't stalk so much as prowl away from the wherry once
it's been rendered into nothing but a pile of desanguinated muscle; her
usually-deliberate, sharp movements have changed into something more...
langorous. Slinking. Even her next kill is brought down with casual grace:
a flicked-out talon slashes a crimson grin across the throat of a barren
cow, like *so*, and her tail twists patterns in the churned and bloody muck
as she dips her head to drink. When she raises it again, she doesn't seek
out more prey, but instead looks to the sky and the stars--waiting. It is
*her* will that will start this chase, and nothing less, and the moment
must be right--the moment must be *now*. A flurry of lambent, grey-green
wingsails, charcoal against night's black, and she's gone. She's off.
Follow if you dare!

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.

Alane's bright eyes watch the feeding grounds. Fascinated she watches as
the dragons take off.

Kandri runs a hand through her hair and takes a step forward. Almost
bringing herself abreast of the flight-caught greenrider. While her eyes
remain on the distant grounds for a long moment, she lets them trail to
Kassima. First she looks over the rider's facial features, then lets her
gaze trail downwards. Absorbing everything about the lifemate of her own
lifemate's desire.

Lysseth> You soar upwards and into the open sky above the Weyr.

Lysseth> Quinaeth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Lysseth> Cyameth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Lysseth> Taralyth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Lysseth> Kazeth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Lysseth> Chaedanth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

"*Finally*," Kassima growls, backing up one step, two--then whirling to
shoulder her way through to the dubious relief of the Guest Weyr. Without
passing Go or collecting 200 marks, no less.

You push aside the curtain and enter the weyr.

Lysseth> Ularrith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

I'sai comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Schmitt comes into the weyr from the bowl.

M'rgan comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Terrilia comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Kandri takes the steps two at a time to get to the weyr. As she steps in
she doesn't even look about, but walks forward with a certain sureness.
Moving to stand a respected distance from Kassima, but close enough to not
have anyone obscure the `view'.

Schmitt crawls in, glances around, and makes for a corner, to lean her
throbbing head against the cool stone and slump.

Lysseth> Quinaeth takes off with the suddeness that only a blue of his size
can. Ignoring the other, bigger slower, dragons. Cloudlike wings propel him
through the air as he takes a line of flight directly behind the pretty
green glow that is Lysseth.

Alane comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Terrilia wanders in, looking rather dazed. She carefully finds a seat,
leaning against the wall near Schmitt, and closes her eyes.

I'sai ducks his head, quite unnecessarily, at the threshold; once he's
crossed it he's silent as before, but for the whisper of leather against
leather, leather against stone that's his walk towards the chamber's wall:
not far in, not yet.

Lysseth> Lysseth slashes through the sky as one of her rider's knives
might, wings flattened to carve the wind and slash through whimsical eddies
to the breezes she can use. Slender and streamlined, she attempts no
aerobatics at first--only speed, taking the lead in this chase with all the
determination obsession can lend. A brazen, mocking call resounds back to
those behind--do they really think they can follow *her* lead?

M'rgan wipes the food and grease that still clings to his hands on his
shirt as he walks to the back of the weyr. If fast food had been invented
on Pern, he'd be described as smelling like a burger joint. Once he's in
his favorite spot he leans his head and shoulder back against the wall and
crosses his arms and ankles. Let the exhausting waiting begin.

Lysseth> Cyameth follows the green, up, up, beating his wings with all his
might, the joy of flight singing through him but not distracting him from
his goal. Youthful enthusiasm tempered by determination, he watches her
intently.

Lysseth> Kazeth follows silent for now, only his wings rushing through the
air give any vocal hint to the longing he chases. Upwards, upwards, the
flight itself routine so far, forgotten straps embracing his neck and one
broken one flapping free, now adding a heartbeat of sound as it beats its
tattoo against his blue hide.

Lysseth> Chaedanth was just waiting for take off, his wings quivering for
the release into flight. Now that they soar up into the telgarian skies he
lets their full strength unfurl. Wing beat after wing beat they pull him
higher into the skies. Thermals giving him the needed lift to for him to be
able to take a considerably good vantage on the green. As he manuevers
about the others he finaly settles upon a spot. Witha ll the confidence of
a many-time winner he sets his gaze upon the prey. Now the hunt truly 
begins.

Alane enters the weyr reluctantly, as if she'd rather stay outside and
watch the dragons. She enters only enough so that she is actually /in/ the
weyr. A cautious glance around the weyr and her green eyes close, so she
can follow Quinaeth as he makes Telgar's skies his own for this night.

Kassima is as direct about her course as her dragon, mouth pressed into a
thin line and knuckles tightened white in angry fists. Where's a wall?
Here's a wall. And she whirls about to set her back to it, eyes making it
clear that this is to be *her* wall and there will be no approaching it
without facing the peril.

Kandri doesn't approach the wall, instead stands near and pretty much in
front of the greenrider. Her own arms are corssed, eyes slimmed and a sure
smile on her lips. First time in a while she has been so smug about a
flight, but that she is no less.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth does beg pardon for any rampant Monty
Python quotes. Throwing out at least one reference to the Holy Grail has
become something of a Lyss-flight tradition. (And it's all Mart's fault. ;)

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Woo! I do like that! >>

Lysseth> Ularrith cups the air until his wingsails are stretched so thin
that they twang and hum. Only then does he complete the downbeat, pumping
so forcefully that he is thrust high into the air, flying past the glowlit
weyrs like an arrow shot from a bow. He is burning energy like he was a
blue, not a brown built for a more steady pace.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << How long do you think this will
last Lys? >>

Lysseth> Quinaeth accepts the bold challange of the green and matches her
wing beat for wing beat. No tricks, just speed, but he stays behind and
below slightly. Let her fly and have her fun. He'll be there when she
tires. A gently croon, a teasing note perhaps from the young blue is sent
towards the quarry of this hunt.

Lysseth> Taralyth, towards the midline of the pack, must muster his mass
into momentum; it takes him several long, strong wingbeats to set himself
more truly in motion, before his broad wingsails find and fill with the
light breezes, and even then that challenge must not only resound but
rebound off swifter chasers before it reaches his seeking frame within
these still-close quarters: it's -ahead- that the stars shine freely on.

Dragon> Lienth bespoke Flight with << At least you guys don't have soup. >>

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Not sure. I don't do two or
three-hour flights, though, promise. ;) >>

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Lysseth with << Is it not fun to fly high and
fast? I am right behind you. I like to fly high and fast as well. >>

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Heh, ok. Just wondering. I have an
audition at 8 is all, sooo. =o) >>

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << If that's EST, your late, Chae. >>

If only there were the soft pillows, instead of just the smell of fish, and
the less-remarkable others within these close quarters; I'sai's nose
wrinkles up even as his lips do, baring teeth for a long breath.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << PST >>

Schmitt closes her eyes, hand reaching up to gingerly test her forehead.
Oh. There. Nice, nice big knot. Bleeding slightly, too, as she pulls her
hand away and glances at it, then a wince and she wipes the hand on her 
pants.

M'rgan lifts a shoulder and repositions himself as a rock in the not so
smooth wall digs into his flesh and the pain finally seeps through his
flight-fogged mind. He sucks in one long breath and then two and finally a
third. Each inhalation more ragged than the previous.

Lysseth> Lysseth has built her lead to a degree where now she feels safe in
indulging in a trick or two. What sort of gambler would she be if she
didn't keep cards up her sleeves, the better to force others to fold and
let her claim the winnings for herself? Her northern, upwards course
pauses, veers: west, down, towards... well, the crown of the Bowl's wall,
and quite speedily is she making for it indeed. Only at the last moment
does she flare wings to skim past the jagged peaks that reach for the
tempting pine hide so close above--skim, and up again, twisting in the wind
with an almost audible *snap* of unfurled sails.

Eyes closed, chest rising and falling, the Reachin' Bluerider slides her
rump down the wall to land with a thump on the weyr floor. Her hands rest
on her knees tightly, the only sign of tension in her body.

"Move," Kassima suggests in a soft, deadly voice to Kandri, fingers
crooking into claws. "Get *back*." Too close quarters by far for her taste,
and never mind the smell of fish. She only senses the cool, crisp scent of
Telgar's winds at this point. Well, and maybe Lysseth's herdbeast breath,
but she can ignore that.

Lysseth> Not everyone can do such lovelyt ricks as the green pulls now.
No...truly only a witch could do such daring and evil stunts! She's a
witch! That thought only makes this Reachian brown want to make her burn,
of course. Though NEVER in the usual sense one might think he would want.
Oh no, he wants to make her lust roar with a lust for him. So despite the
fact he really shouldn't, he dives after the green. Managing, using much of
his strength, to play it off smoothly. Brushing the wall's rim barely with
his tail as he turns upwards and after. Now, hopefully, she'll turn his
attentions on him...f only briefly. So if he turns into a newt, will he get
better?

Kandri smiles sweetly and bows just a bit, taking one small step back.
"Does this please you more?" she purrs in a quiet voice. Blue eyes twinkle
as they look at her and do not.

Lysseth> Quinaeth follows behind Lysseth. Like a shadow that can't be
dodged, the cloud that is Quinaeth turns and veers to follow. Jagged rock
walls that will threaten other, larger dragons are easy for him to dodge.
Furling his wings to stop his foreward flight, a twist in the air and the
stormy blue wings snap open to push the air out of his way as he climbs
after Lysseth. That was almost too easy.

Lysseth> Ularrith's scent turns musky as sweat seeps from his pores and his
breath turns almost incendiary at his exertions. Folding one wing back
until it touches his back ridges, the oak brown dragon tilts to one side
and then banks, spiraling down after Lysseth but much more slowly as he
just allows gravity to drag him down.

Lysseth> Taralyth, as yet considerably further behind, has the house's view
of the deal; though he'd begun to drop a breath after she did, from that
span of distance it's easier to shift his lean bulk up and over the
clifftop in time - if slightly more difficult to run between and not -into-
those stalling in the lengths before him, more difficult yet in the
crowded, heated air to see more than a skimming, spinning shadow of the
char-and-coals green beyond.

Lysseth> Kazeth arches his wings as he skims to follow that Telgarian
temptress, rustle of wings changing for a few short seconds to the whistle
of the wind, Tail, sleek and slender, stretches out behind and seeming to
stay in one place even as Kazeth twists and turns. Almost twisting into a
much larger brown, he snarls and the brown likewise responds - twas your
fault, youngling, out of the way! Abashed, the cobalt and navy swirls of
Kazeth find themselves lagging backward, cowed but not for long - soon
wings resume motion move boldly, and he ducks under the brown with space to
spare.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Hope you don't mind the Monty
Python quote, I did it just for you! ;o) >>

Lysseth> Cyameth might be young and enthusiastic, but he has picked up a
few tricks, here and there. As the wall suddenly looms, he twists, quick,
in the air, his smaller size suddenly an advantage as he makes the turn
with room to spare. Makes the turn, but finds himself suddenly under
another blue body. Hissing, he darts to one side and suddenly finds himself
behind the pack. Wings beat even more strongly as he races to catch up.

Schmitt opens her eyes to watch the greenrider with Kazeth-tinted eyes.
Wedged in the corner as she is, it's unlikely she'll be backing up, yet she
tries, huddling into herself again, hair swinging forward over her face.
Alane opens one eye at the exchange between Kassi and Kandri. "She carries
knives you know, Kan," she remarks.

Lysseth> Lysseth whimsically allows the air to bell out her wingsails for a
moment, lifting her back up to star-crossed heights and frosted heavens.
There, through night's black shroud, she slips--seeking disguise? If so,
failing. She burns, oh, she burns, so bright a green, flush with life and
lust and heated blood. So, so; they followed her to the depths, will they
trace her to the heights? Can they? For she is lighter than they, less
obediant to gravity's tether--and her wingbeats slap against the air like
the boom of distant thunder.

Terrilia doesn't seem to see anything, though her eyes are open. She gasps
suddenly, clenching her hands into fists, then shakes her head and relaxes
a little.

Kassima murmurs, eyes losing some of their flight-bond glazing to stare
with bloodshot fury, "*Naught* about you pleases me." Meant for all ears,
evidently; not just Kandri's. Oh, yes, the knives. She'd forgotten those,
hadn't she?

M'rgan closes his eyes as he starts to waver. The confusion of seeing
things through both his own eyes and through Ularrith's giving him vertigo.
With a groan he remarks, "Don't mention knives."

Lysseth> Chaedanth soars upwards after the green as she turns higher and
yet even more higher. The brown follows with the quickness he can best
muster. Yet she is right, he is bound by gravities pull and slows in his
upwards vault. Blues of lighter and quick gait soar past him. Once he sees
that the brown looks for a remedy to his tragedy and finds it. A telgarian
thermal lends it's lifting heat to his outspread sails. They lift him
upwards and after the burning visage of Lysseth.

Lysseth> Quinaeth finds a thermal in this strange Telgari air space. What
luck. Strong blue wings are held at their most extended allowing him to be
lifted higher and higher, following along behind the beautiful object of
his attention, Lysseth. He almost disappears in the night shrouded sky,
just another cloud in the bowl of the heavens. Only this cloud moves fast
and in Lysseths' direction.

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Lysseth with << Is this not wonderful! Flying high
and free with only the wind in your face. Are you tired yet. lovely one? >>

Kandri smiles sweetly as she straightens, one hand going to poise on her
hip. The fire of dragon's lust burns within her eyes and heart and she
shrugs one shoulder. "Minds do change." is her reply to the greenrider's
hiss. Alane doesn't even get a glance at the mention of knives, one brow
simply raises at this new element. "Knives? Long and sharp I hope, for they
would have to be to pierce my heart as certainly as you have."

Lysseth> Cyameth climbs, up and up and up, passing a few slower dragons as
he rises, his eyes fixed on his target, but only just catching up with the
pack. A little more wary now, he is more mindful of their positions, but
all of his mind and body and will are focused on that glowing, gleaming
green star.

Lysseth> Quinaeth senses that Lysseth's reply, such as it is, is faint,
distracted--a flash of icy fury; a hint of mocking laughter. Evidently, she
isn't... yet.

Lysseth> Taralyth surges within the thunder's echoes, if distant indeed, a
sudden lightning rush skewing his path neck-and-neck with he who would be
his leader in the more usual run of wings; in the tumult, wingbeat matches
wingbeat and then overrides, eating up the airspace between them and beyond
in an as yet lower if not slower burn, even as the mountains drop away
beneath them like black-burnt ridges of bone.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Quinaeth allows you to sense below his jaunty
exterior thoughts, the pure lust that drives him and the reserves of
strength that are within his young, powerful blue hide.

Fish - it's fishy - and those winds, deeper into the pack, they're clogged
with musk unpleasantly other-masculine rather than feminine; abruptly I'sai
steps forward, just one pace, leaning as if to bypass here-invisible
blockades.

Lysseth> Kazeth soars, skims, scorches the sky as his lightning tail whips
windwards, seeming to propel him forward through these foreign skies, wings
spread wide and neck dipping downwards, then upwards in another loud bugle.
Lysseth, I am here. What are you going to do about it?

Alane makes no move and says nothing further. Her head lifts up as if the
wind was in her face and not Quinaeth's.

Lysseth> His every sinew tense with effort, Ularrith's hard fought race
with Taralyth ends suddenly as the brown bellows in a cry that could
shatter the sky and then twists away, letting the bronze go on ahead. It
isn't a roar of anger or challenge or triumph that erupts from him but one
of pain. His left wing flops more or less uselessly as he glides towards
the ground. The strain of that long Threadfall a few days ago having
finally caught up with him.

With a gasp that is more gurgle than cry, M'rgan's eyes instantly open and
he pushes away from the wall, his long strides taking him towards the bowl.

Lysseth> Ularrith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

M'rgan leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Schmitt reaches up to brush against her forehead once more, and then she
flops forward to stretch her skinny body out diagonally from her corner,
face down.

Lysseth> Lysseth pounds her wings to lift her up, up, to where the air
begins to thin and dragon-breath casts mists in its chill--high enough.
She... *hesitates* there, a moment, actually letting the males close before
she drops--wings closing, furling, decreasing her resistance to wind and to
gravity, she falls in a rush to dare again the rocky embrace of earth, tail
twisting in playful mockery just out of the range of the forerunners. You
didn't think she'd let herself be caught so *soon*, did you? Lord, what
fools these mortals be! Watch, then, as she comes up with the third Harper
and pulls off a royal flush, wingtips flashing out to cut wounds in the sky
and carry her away from danger. She's brought down one--hah, see, that will
teach his rider not to take off his pants for hers... or maybe the
opposite, all things considered--and crows her triumph, the sound echoing,
at last to fade.

Terrilia 's eyes clear for a moment and she looks up, frowning slightly as
she sees M'rgan leave. Then she sees what her lifemate sees, her eyes
unfocusing once more.

Oh, look, here's one of those knives in Kassi's hand now. "Very long," she
confirms, twirling it between her fingers with deadly, casual grace. "Very
sharp. Don't tempt me t'be showing you how much." Still, it's *she* who
steps back to press against the wall, glaring balefully at each malerider
in turn before tipping her head back to resume her support of her lifemate.

Alaneis startled by one riders cry to open her eyes just in time to see him
leave. Suddenly aware that the rough wall is jabbing her in the back she
pushes herself to stand, legs apart and arms folded in front of her. A
glance Kassima's way is all she allows herself, but a slow smile spreads as
her minds eye sees Lysseth drop.

Lysseth> For shame, for shame, the mockery. Kazeth's silence could kill,
were anyone paying attention to him. Pawn fleeing behind the queen, he can
only follow the moves she makes and with a pawn's limited motion and
knowledge at that. To flaunt and flirt as she does is unknown to him, core
and being, and stronger he flies with her wounds slicing through him and
drawing him yet nearer.

Lysseth> Those lagging at the end do have the advantage, and thus Chaedanth
finds gravitys pull lending him favor. Turning himself on a wingtip her
starts in a downward dive of his own. A slightly barrel only adds to the
pull on his body as he is dragged downwards to the earth. Still no where
near the green he is close enough to calculate when and where to open his
own wings. As she cuts the skies with her burning glory, he mimics. Like a
murky shadow in the twilight he once more begins following. A sudden cry
reaches from his throat, trying to catch her attention. It is a short lived
thing, the sound not being more beyond a `Nei' if it reaches Lysseth.

Lysseth> Cyameth bugles, immediately diving to follow the bright, bright
star that is pulling him onward. He plummets nearly straight down, a blue
comet trailing after green glory. Will he be able to stop, pull himself out
of this steep, almost reckless dive?

Kandri watches those long fingers twirl the knife with an ever growing
approval. One brow arches in a graceful arc and executes a small wiggle.
Then she tilts her head upwards as well, eyes growing distant again in
turn. Still she stays poised, defiant, with one hand on hip thrust sharply
to the side.

Lysseth> Quinaeth folds his wings and drops like a blue stone. Corkscrewing
down as if to open a fine Benden wine, red that is. Snapping his deep blue
wings out above where Telgar's jewel stops her downward flight. A bone
snapping *crack* for ought but a dragon. His perpendicular flight curve
carries him onward following Lysseth. Third Harper? Quin drew the 
craftmaster.

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Lysseth with << That was fun. Would you like to do
that again? >>

Schmitt looks up. To Kassi, the lust of dragon filtering her vision to show
the greenrider with desirable glowing eyes and outstretched wings. Breath
caught in her throat, she's drawn back to reality for only a moment by the
knife, then inches herself forward. Two inches. No more.

Alane edges closer to the greenrider. "Quin just loves to do that, drop
from a height. He got in trouble for it when we were weyrlings." Eyeing the
knife she keeps her distance.

Lysseth> Taralyth twists reflexively out of that scalding cry - his, not
hers - even as those remaining gain height, urgent as the smoky green fire
that signals them on. Higher, higher, and this time - allowed this close -
the trick's harder to catch in time, altitude-iced breath lost in doubling
over to plummet amid all the others that fall as comets do, their few cards
seemingly of a kind with only that not-so-joking harper wild. Lower, lower,
running the numbers down to the ace, ...and then it's time again to wing
out, raise those stakes.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Lovely! BTW, I have to go in 20
min. Hopefully enough time, though iw ould never rush a lady >>

I'sai shies away from Kassima's stare when it finds him, more so than the
knives themselves; but then when the dark head tilts back, he leans in,
pale eyes light on her throat and the pulse that dances there.

Lysseth> Lysseth extends wingsails, cupping a thermal with skillful care to
ride it where it will take her. Fourth hand: ante given, stakes heightened,
more to win--and more to lose, for she is surely diminishing now as the
blood's power drains from her as surely as she drained it from those
beasts. Yet it is not her way to give in and relinquish the impossible
dream of escape. No. She will continue to reach for the stars--hear her
now, O thou bleak and unbearable world! With greater effort, she lifts
again; a final shift of direction, west. Second star to the right and
straight on 'til morning she will go, should it lead towards the wealth of
freedom that she's put on the line in flight's desperate gamble.

Terrilia has caught hold of the end of her long braid now, as something to
play with. Staring at Kassima but barely seeing her, she rolls the tip of
the braid quickly back and forth between her fingers.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth grins. No rush. I'm thinking capture
poses after Lyss's next pose--does that work for everyone?

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Yup >>

Dragon> Taralyth bespoke Flight with << Sounds good! >>

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << Fine with us. >>

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << Spiffy. >>

Kassima's teeth--nasty, big, pointy teeth? No, those belong to
Lysseth--sink into her lower lip; the knife disappears as fingers slide
along the granite of wall, seeking some sort of purchase that might afford
escape. Or maybe she just has a rock fetish. Though her dark lashes tremble
a moment, when her eyes opened, they're filled with a desperate rage--why
can't they just go *away*?

Dragon> Cyameth bespoke Flight with << Sure thing. >>

Lysseth> Westward? If west it is the beauty wants, west she shall get, west
shall she go, but still with this silent, dogged pursuer of the Kazeth
persuasion darting along behind. Persistency. Mind fixed on the one thing
in front, stubbornly ignoring the other chasers - what other chasers? There
can be no others in Kazeth's view, only shadowy obstructions that mingle
around him, obstructing his view of the end of his quest.

Lysseth> Not everyone is going to bet everything they have yet, since
Lysseth still have another trick up her sleeve...or so it seems. Chaedanth
certainly is not one to big everything and his straps with such stakes. So
for now he sets himself at a steady pace. The tempo something he can deal
with and still have some left over. Now he pulls out a joker, tossing it
into the fray with a good bluff face. Down he dives for a moment, catching
at thermals and winds. When he finds what he wants he lays it down on the
table. Let's make it interesting with a tail wind. It's force strong in
these greater heights in the Telgar skies. It's strength fills his sails
and nearly tosses him after Lysseth. He approaches much more quickly now, a
gamble it may be, but he can risk it...or so he thinks.

Lysseth> Cyameth snaps his wings out to stop his dive--just in time, barely
two dragonlengths above disaster. This is not his normal smooth style, and
that dive was faster than any he's ever made before. As he rises again, he
bugles--as much in relief as triumph. Lysseth--where is she? Quickly he
finds her, above him once more and now farther away, and wings beat hard as
he chases, cold air burning with each breath as he seeks just a little more
speed.

Kandri tilts her head and smiles sweetly at Kassima, then takes a step back
and into the shadows. Out of the way, out of view. She dissapears as surely
at her lifemate appears too. Though only she sneaks behind the others in
the weyr, trying to cirle around from behind...or at least flank her.

Lysseth> Quinaeth pushes air out of the way with wings the color of a
storm. He is almost one with the very air, as is coloring suggests. Air
that also separates him from his goal. She is running. He is simply
following, waiting for her to tire of the dance. Dipping his wings to sail
in a westerly direction, he shows little sign of any strain. To him this is
pure pleasure. To fly unfettered and free. To scale the heights and drop to
the depths. Still he follows. Lysseth's personal shadow.

Inchworm, a few more inches every few minutes, Schmitt cautiously nears
Kassima. Near being relative, as she's still more than halfway across the
weyr from the greenrider.

Alane inches closer towards Kassima. "She tires, doesn't she." Surprise
flickers briefly in the blueriders eyes at the husky, lustiness of her own
voice.

Lysseth> Taralyth raises, rises, calling on endurance for that long ascent
with a certain passionate relief as well; as the pack thins even as the air
again does, his wingbeats also steady, less swifter than simply more
efficient than the crowds had earlier permitted. Stars, they're ahead;
Lysseth, likewise, such a slim-edged figure on which to balance that
wager's weight before that long-fallen sun.

As Kassi's pressed pretty firmly back against that wall, getting behind her
isn't apt to work unless one is a toothpick or something. Perhaps not even
then. "We never tire," she refutes, low and hoarse, fingers clawing at
stone. Such a glib liar, she.

Terrilia is still sitting near the wall, though not leaning against it
anymore. She's sitting cross-legged now, rocking back and forth slightly as
if she could urge her lifemate on, wingbeat by wingbeat. Her eyes are fixed
on Kassima in an unblinking stare.

I'sai catches less on words than implication: softly, softly - and maybe
it's just to himself and his own dragon - he dares, "...Prove it."

Alane presses no further towards the greenrider. Why bother? She knows the
outcome even as Kassima denies it. "Of course. Whatever you say."

Schmitt wiggles forward again, pausing as the weyr swims before her eyes.
The blood's trickled down in a thin path of red to the tip of her nose, and
as she shakes her head to clear it a drop or two flings outward. Oh,
whoops, there goes someone's previously white shirt.

Lysseth> Lysseth draws her wings, charcoal-lined pinions streaming out the
last of flickering radiance, closer to her body--a raptor's trick, making
herself smaller so that she may yet have speed. Such small guiles are the
only ones left to her; she will use them as she must, for to rage against
the dying of the light and struggle against the weight of a challenge lost
is bred into her nature as surely as her swiftness and canny utilization of
winds. However, one cannot run forever on wit or wile alone--currents once
friend have become foe, dragging at her, pushing her *back* towards the
fate that waits to claim her as surely as the man who holds the Master
Conclave will claim his own rich prize. A last shriek, shrill,
defiant--catch her, trap her if you must, but nothing says she has to make
it *easy*.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth takes a moment to wingsnug everyone and
note this has been one *heck* of a comeback flight. :) Oh, and I should
mention--anyone who *doesn't* want to win should probably page Kassi at
this point. ;)

Lysseth> Chaedanth soars upwards from below, his wings filled with tail
winds and the momentum of his previous dive. From a supposed blind spot he
comes, flanking the green now as he comes up to speed. Soaring along next
to her for a long moment, not even daring to reach yet. When he sees her
body shhudder and then hears her last cry, that is when he reaches. Wings,
tail, neck and arms all doing their part in the atempted capture. Trying to
rapture her heart to his own, his tail twines down to tease and the attempt
the take of her own. Long neck snakes downwards in a similar attempt,
though more to nuzzle at her if her can. Wings try to beat at her own, to
bring her into his confident and warm embrace. While arms reaches for her
own, to draw her against him and away from the evil attentions of the
others. He casts his hand now, twisting slightly at the last to try and put
himself between an approaching blue and his Lysseth. For he is certain she
is his now!

"You--" Kassi falters a moment, stumbling in words as her lifemate stumbles
in wingbeats above, before regaining her poise: "--wish." A glare to Alane,
frustrated and futile, before she closes her eyes to concentrate. She's not
one for admitting when she's lost, either. Just ask Mart. Or A'lex. Or
R'ehn. Or Maylia. Or... uh... well, almost anyone in the Weyr, really.

Lysseth> There's the joy of the chase thundering though Kazeth, and he
almost overshoots as she slows. Quickly he spins into a turn, spiraling
tightly downward towards the green - directly above her, lined to face the
same direction, and then he folds his wings, dropping, seeking to claim the
mistress of the skies.

Kandri moves closer now, from the flank like she said. A sudden appearance
of a shadow at Kassima's side, ready to reach out and snag the unwary away.

Lysseth> Cyameth has stayed low, concentrating on making up the distance
more than making up the height. From below and behind Lysseth, he sees her
tiring, and wings pump ever harder, straining to cross that ground,
straining to catch her. Perhaps he can come up from below, unexpected.

Lysseth> Quinaeth sympathizes with the green beauty as she shrieks her
defiance attempting one last trick to throw off the males. But all good
things must come to an end even the joy of a wild flight. His flight path
is slightly up and behind his lovely lady. As he sees her falter and the
wind push her back, he lowers his wings slightly, extending talons, neck
and tail, just in case she should slip into his embrace.

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << LOVELY flight Kassi/Lys >>

Closer. Closer. Schmitt creeps along the floor like some greatly mutated
form of tunnelsnake, drawing her nearer with each..creep.

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << Yes indeed. Wonderful. Lot's of
fun, Kassi/Lyss. >>

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << Very spiffy, indeed. >>

Dragon> Cyameth bespoke Flight with << It's been fun! Thanks! >>

Alane ignores the denials and rage, calmly keeping her distance from
Kassima. Not too distant, but safe. She reaches out a hand. "Kassima, I..."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth awwwws. Thanks, all. I know I've gotten
out of practice at this, so I really appreciate y'all's kindness and
patience. :)

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Flight with << You don't look out of practice to
me! >>

Dragon> Chaedanth bespoke Flight with << Out of practice?????????????? >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Taralyth sends his own thanks!

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth hadn't flown since April. Longest span
I've ever gone. :) (I blame this on the last being the thirteenth flight.
Thirteen's a jinxed number and all. ;)

Lysseth> Five of a kind: they could be but lowly twos, had they only
harpers to make good the match; and so Taralyth chances even that
nerves-scraping shriek, prism-blazed wings streaking as comets do into that
freest fall - waiting, waiting as he had in Fall, till ... there; there, he
chooses his moment, and swifts cleanly in from the side just where she
might, just might seek to escape another.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth casts familiar, vivid challenge out
into the dark, even swifter than his body's speed: whether catch or trap,
let it be no gnawing laceration but clean and swift and - despite it all -
true.

Dragon> Flight sense that Chaedanth chuckles and nods!

Dragon> Quinaeth bespoke Lysseth with << You are tired. I will take you
home. We can fly together for awhile and then rest. >>

I'sai does not close his own eyes, only widens them in distant
winds-blinded focus above his sharply indrawn breath; they see not what's
here, after all, but the char-green fulcrum beyond.

Lysseth> Lysseth beats wearied wings once, twice, thrice more, rising as
far as she can--always seeking the heights, even in this last moment when
her bluff is called and she must reveal that her own cards cannot win the
game. And surrender, of course, her stakes. Wailing her despair at the
arrival of this moment of truth, she twists, indeed, hindclaws lashing out
in a vicious attempt to keep her freedom one precious moment longer--but
no; she's caught, captured, jessed by Taralyth's clever ploy and challenge.
With a combined hand fit to take that pot after all--but split between two,
the riches not hoarded, but shared.

Telgar Weyr> Keara says, "But it's not the 22nd. :)"

Lysseth> Quinaeth bugles in disappointment. Wings fold and he drops away
from the happy couple to collect his rider and drown his sorrows.

Kandri glowers at I'sai and quickly withdrawls with a growl,

Kandri leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Lysseth> Chaedanth breaks off with a hiss and a growl.

Lysseth> Kazeth snarls his disappointment and drops on down.

Lysseth> Kazeth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Lysseth> Chaedanth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Lysseth> Cyameth soars up, up, makes up almost all of the ground...almost.
Too late, the prize is taken. He warbles in disappointment and veers off.

Lysseth> Cyameth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Lysseth> Quinaeth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

Schmitt stares in surprise for a moment, then slumps downward, passing out.

Terrilia shudders, then shakes her head. Her vision clears and she takes a
deep breath. And sees Schmitt lying on the floor. Confused, she looks
around. Certainly can't leave her here.

Alane gives one last look towards Kassi and leaves.

Alane leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Can't carry her, but can't leave her. Can't think in this condition,
either. Terrilia hesitates a moment, then grabs Schmitt by both hands and
drags her out behind her.

Terrilia leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Schmitt leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Kassima shudders with phantom impact, breath catching in a gasp as her own
eyes snap open, drawn at once to I'sai/Taralyth. Riders on the floor? What
riders on the floor?

Lysseth> Taralyth's initial shrilled exclamation - those rocks hadn't been
sacrificed to Lysseth's claws for nothing, as the sharp, shallow cut along
one lean flank proves - shifts deeper, throatier even as the lost ichor
smears between their bodies: riches shared, price paid, twisted aye ... but
about each other.

Invisible riders on the floor, surely; I'sai's blind to their escape as
well as he'd been to their presence, reaching out for the only other one
who -knows-.