Lysseth's Fourth Flight



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Lysseth's Fourth Flight


Date:  April 11, 1997
Places:  Benden Weyr's Living Cavern, North Bowl, Feeding Grounds, 
Upper Sky, 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 a terrific flight all around! :)  Not only did
all of the competitors do so marvelously that it took me *forever* to
choose between them (ask any of them if you don't believe me), but the
pre-flight RP was fun, and I had the pleasure of laughing all the way
through the flight due to a plethora of 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail'
references worked into some poses (admittedly including my own).  I never 
would've thought that any flight could beat my second one for me, but I 
believe I was wrong on that now. :)  So, kudos again to everyone who 
participated in making this such a blast!  As far as log-mechanics go, all 
page-foo has been cut out, most dragon-comments have been left in, and 
relevant knot chat can be found scattered throughout.  Anything prefixed
by Lysseth> takes place in the North Bowl, Feeding Grounds, or Upper
Benden Sky, in that order.

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The Log:

Lysseth> K'tyn slides down Prometh's fiery bronze flank to come to rest on 
the ground. Prometh swings his head around to regard his lifemate gently.

Lysseth> K'tyn shudders slightly. "Snow. Why is it always snowing?" He 
grins to himself, then waves, seeing J'cob. "Heyla, greenrider."

Lysseth> A pair of red eyes slowly unlid themselves, accompanied by a 
rumble of irritation from Lysseth's direction as she stares at the 
suddenly-noisy humans.

Lysseth> J'cob yawns, "Because.. because.. because we're in Benden, Kit."

Lysseth> K'tyn bows elaborately at Lysseth, making a flowery apology. 
"Indeed, my friend. In fact, I think I'll just take myself inside...away 
from that...vision of green loveliness."

Lysseth> J'cob laughs, "I'll join you, I think."

J'cob walks in from the bowl.

Lysseth> Lysseth opens her jaw to yawn widely at Kiat, showing off her 
impressively long and sharp fangs. Snapping her mouth shut once more, she 
emits a quiet snarl, then grabs a nearby chunk of rock to sharpen her 
claws on for awhile.

J'cob stomps off his boots, then glides towards Kassima.

K'tyn walks in from the bowl.

Kassima is sitting at the Thunderbolt table, alone--most of the other 
riders have wisely chosen to clear out. Surrounding her are several 
blocks of wood. Some are uncarved, some are half-carved, and some have 
been fully shaped into the crude figures of agonized animals who all seem 
to be screaming... those that have heads, anyway. "What d'you want?" she 
asks J'cob without looking up from her latest work. This one seems to be 
not animal, but human.

J'cob shrugs, "I need some toothpicks. Doen't you make them?"

K'tyn wanders inside, humming absently. He makes his way quietly, to the 
klahpots and pours himself a mugful from one that is still hot. "Anyone 
else like one?"

J'cob shakes his head, "Need toothpicks."

C'vadan walks in from the bowl.

C'vadan just comes in. Yeah. He shakes the snow off his jacket.

"If there's any of M'kla's or Flirk's," Kassi yells over. "If nay, don't 
sharding bother. And believe me, I can tell if you're trying to slip me 
some of that *Watered* stuff." Slicing another chunk of wood from what 
looks to be the humanoid-carving's arm, she frowns at J'cob. "Get your 
own toothpicks. *These* are nay toothpicks. They're works of art." She 
gestures to the exceedingly crude and amateur... things.

C'vadan smiles as he sees Kassima *is* indeed here in the LC. And from 
what Dulath has told him, everything is just perfect for his revenge. 
"Hello, Kassima," he says softly to the greenrider.

J'cob picks up a piece of wood and whittles off a good toothpick, then 
sets down the.. uhm.. well, it was some sort of firelizard.

K'tyn looks at Kassi. "Certainly, my dear. It looks like there's a bit 
left...smells like M'kla's wondrous brew." He fills a second mug for her, 
then turns at the sound of stamping feet in the doorway. "Cav! Some 
klah?"

Kassima scowls at Cav as she spots his entrance, for no apparent reason 
whatsoever. Setting down her finished piece of work--it would seem to be 
some unidentified person with one leg missing and both eyes gouged out--
she reaches for another block of wood. Chip, chip, chip goes the knife as 
she cuts herself another grotesque statuette. "I think these will make a 
lovely display in my room," she mentions to anyone who happens to be 
foolish enough to be nearby.

C'vadan shakes his head at the offer. "No thank you, Kiat. I just returned 
from High Reaches. Got something very tasty to drink there," he says, 
producing a skin from under his jacket. "Very tasty."

"Good," Kassi says shortly. "I can mix that with m'Dragon-Fire and 
actually make a drink stronger than dishwater." Looking up from the crude 
shape in her hands, she eyes Cav's skin of something with distrust. "What 
in the name of the shells of the fardling First Egg is *that*?" is her 
blunt inquiry, as she points the knife in its direction.

K'tyn grins. "As you say, Cav." He carries the two mugs deftly, placing 
the sludge-like acid smelling one near Kassi. "There y'go, sweets." He 
moves back and takes a seat.

C'vadan grins almost feline-like at the proddy greenrider. "This?" he 
asks, holding up the skin containing the liquid he mentioned. "Just 
something I got at the Winter Festival at Reaches."

J'cob works on his teeth.

Kassima picks up the Brew O' Death, blissfully ignorant for the moment of 
any plots of revenge. She occupies herself with pouring the usual small 
bottle's worth of the odd red-gold liquor into it. "Are you aware that you 
look like a bloody feline?" she asks Cav with a snort--but not without 
interest, as she tracks the skin with her eyes. "The Winter Festival. The 
one that I'm missing due to my lifemate's Faranth-cursed timing, you 
mean."

C'vadan nods to the greenrider. "In fact, I got this with you in mind, 
Kassi. A gift, you might say..." He tosses the stoppered skin at her.

Kassima catches the skin deftly, and scrutinizes it with tangible 
suspicion. "Naught that's free can be trusted," she quotes. The greenrider 
unstoppers the skin, and sniffs at it, trying to figure out what's inside 
without actually having to take a drink first.

K'tyn sips his klah, his oddly light colored eyes registering, with 
amusement, the bi-play before him.

One sniff gives nothing more than the smell of the cured skin containing 
the liquid.

Benden Weyr> Alyssa eyes Kassima.

Benden Weyr> Alyssa decides to avoid the glowy greenchick and pounces 
Kiat.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan snugs 'Lys :)

Kassima narrows her eyes as she smells nothing, and taps the last few 
drops of 'Fire from her glass vial before tipping the skin just enough to 
pour some in; perhaps she's hoping that visual sight will provide some 
sort of clue.

Benden Weyr> Alyssa hugs. :)

Benden Weyr> Kassima snarls at Lys, in her best glowy greenchick 
fashion. :)

Benden Weyr> Alyssa bolts the door to the weyr.

Benden Weyr> K'tyn snugs Lys, dropping her into the classic tango pose, 
back arched, leg up. *smooch*!

Benden Weyr> Kassima taps her conductor's baton against her podium, then 
points it at Lysseth. "Begin super-sonic door-shattering scream, now!" ;)

A pale pinkish liquid fills the glass from the skin.

Benden Weyr> Alyssa is swooning mucho at Kiat and misses completely the 
green shriek. :)

Kassima looks just a *trifle* less wary as she sees the liquid's color. 
"Is it diluted blood?" she asks with interest, picking up the glass.

C'vadan arches a brow. "While I had considered such a gift for you, no, 
Kassi. It is not. Taste it. It is quite good."

Kassima raises the glass to her lips, but pauses for just a moment. "By 
the by," she informs Cav, "'tis my personal theory that M'kla's klah and 
Dragon-Fire together can burn out any poison, so if'n you're trying to 
kill me, 'twill nay work." With that, she takes a very small sip of the 
unidentified stuff.

Benden Weyr> Kassima eyes Cav suspiciously. What *are* you up to? ;)

K'tyn freezes, watching the liquid. Watching Kassi. His eyes dart 
questioningly to the Brownrider, and then back again as he swallows 
reflexively. "Ah, as long as it doesn't ...explode..." The humor is back 
around his eyes.

The liquid goes down smooth, having almost a peppermint flavor to it, but 
very light. It tingles the tongue, but tastes pretty good.

C'vadan chuckles. "Relax. I'd never hurt the Weyr by injuring a fellow 
rider." Nevermind the fact that the last time Kassima was proddy, she 
almost stabbed Cav and nearly broke his foot.

Two black eyebrows arch over faintly surprised dark green eyes. "Well," 
says Kassi, after a moment, "'tis nay the Bottle, but... nay bad. 
'Reaches, you say? What's it made from?" Yes, there's still suspicion in 
her voice, albeit less than there was to begin with.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "Me? Nothing at all, Kassi :)"

Benden Weyr> Kassima uh-huhs. And if I would buy that one, you'd have a 
bridge to sell me. :)

C'vadan goes and gets a glass for himself. "I don't rightly know. The old 
uncle brewer I met there wouldn't tell me." He waits for Kassima to fill 
his glass, too.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan grins. Sometimes the best revenge is nothing at 
all. ;)

Kassima does so, grudgingly. "'Tis nay like Boll's Brown Dragon, is it?" 
she inquires, wariness renewed. "Marcus was only willing to tell Aph 
what's in that stuff, and that because he has a crush on her. The 
ingrediants are... terrible." A shudder wracks the black-clad rider, but 
she picks up her drink and sips again regardless. Her knife flashes as she 
returns to the task of carving wood. "So, Cav...." She gestures to all of 
her horrific tortured-animal and mutilated-human wooden carvings. "What 
think you, will these make good Turnday gifts for folk?"

C'vadan tips back the glass after saluting Kassima with it. "I've never 
been much of a carver. Not like you, Kassi," he says calmly.

Kassima hrmphs as she chops off the mostly-unformed head of her current 
carving, sending it skittering across the table. "I like carving things. 
Chopping things, mauling things, mutilating things, slicing things. 
Stabbing things, massacring things, distorting things, destroying things, 
demolishing things...." The list rattles on and on as Kassi proceeds to 
do all of the above to the chunk of wood in her hands.

C'vadan listens as Kassima list off a few of her favorite things.

Benden Weyr> Kassima giggles at Cav!

Benden Weyr> C'vadan grins.

C'vadan turns to K'tyn. "So, Kiat, how are you, Karise and the baby?" he 
asks.

K'tyn looks away from Kassi, and blinks twice at Cav. "Oh! He's fine. The 
Baby. Karise is....fine...too." He clears his throat. "Ah sorry. 
Distracted. How's your family? Dulath?"

"Good to hear," says C'vadan, taking the skin and refilling both his and 
Kassima's glass. "Cait and Caidan are at BeastCraft for about a month. 
Cail is up in the weyr asleep. Duly is outside trying to protect Lysseth 
from the snow and wind. All are well." He downs another glass.

Kassima starts sing-songing, "Killing and cutting and wreaking great 
havoc; slicing and dicing, whether meat or just a block--a blade so keen 
that through the wind it sings, these are a few of my favorite things!" 
She drinks from both the klah mug and the weird pink-liquid glass again as 
she almost cheerfully mauls an inanimate object.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan laughs at Kassi :)

Benden Weyr> Kassima sorries for the delay. I decided to make something up 
on the spur of the moment to go with Cav's pose before. ;)

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "I get partial credit, right ;)"

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "Suuuuuuure you do, if you want to argue the 
point with Kassi. ;)"

K'tyn laughs, "Kassi-love. You do scare me at times." He pushes his empty 
mug back, reclining in his chair to better see the shenanigans.

C'vadan arches a brow at Kassima's impromptu song and shakes his head.

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << Are you comfortable, Lovely One? >>

Kassima hums, "When a green glow comes to Lyss's wings, then all folk can 
tell that I'm due to perform all my favorite things, and that's when they 
run like--" She breaks off, frowning. "Hey! I didn't mean to cut *all* 
his limbs off! Shard it. I'm going t'have t'start again."

C'vadan takes a seat, not in the least interested in getting Kassima more 
wood. "Kassi, you haven't finished your drink," he reminds her.

Lysseth> Dulath senses that Lysseth's mind-tone is most assuredly droll. 
<< It's snowing and freezing cold, my rider is making a fool of herself, 
I haven't been able to sun at Boll for a sevenday, and you ask if I'm 
*comfortable*? >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << I will try to block the wind 
better, Lysseth. And my rider says your rider makes a fool of herself 
routinely. >>

C'vadan blinks, shoots a glance out to the bowl, then cringes.

Kassima frowns and mutters, while picking up another half-done carving and 
taking her hapless blade to it, "I'll finish when I'm fardling well good 
and ready to finish." She casts a glance at Cav out of the corner of her 
eye. "Why? What makes you so eager for--" Oooh, boy. Judging by the rate 
at which Kassi's face turns red with outrage, Lysseth just relayed a 
rather interesting comment. "You say *what*?" she asks the brownrider in 
a voice that is *far* too controlled. Deathly quiet, one might say.

C'vadan smiles at Kassima. "Merely Duly's interpetation on what I said, 
Kassi," he says calmly. "Surely you understand that."

C'vadan reaches out and refills Kassima's glass, making sure not to spill 
a drop.

Lysseth> Dulath senses that Lysseth hisses with anger, eyes gaining in 
speed and orange. << She is my rider, >> the green says forcefully, 
building in intensity, << and only *I* may call her a fool while we both 
live! >>

Benden Weyr> P'tran waves

Benden Weyr> Alyssa says, "P'tran. Run."

Benden Weyr> Alyssa says, "Run far."

Benden Weyr> F'nar says, "What should we do about him?"

Benden Weyr> Alyssa says, "It's not safe here. :)"

Benden Weyr> K'tyn waves! "Heya P'tran."

Benden Weyr> C'vadan salutes the boss :)

Benden Weyr> Tresselin waves P'tran-wards. :)

Benden Weyr> P'tran grins and is ICly a far, far distance doing sweeps or 
something else WEyrleaderly-like :)

The loud, infuriated hissing of a dragon echoes in from the Bowl, 
eliciting a snapped, "Stay out of this, Lysseth!" from Kassima. Turning 
her attention back to Cav, she taps her knife thoughtfully against the 
wood, leaving a few notches in the hapless humanoid carving. "And what 
did you say that would prompt him to tell Lysseth that you think I make a 
fool of m'self on a routine basis?" she asks coldly, ice cracking off of 
every word.

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << Many pardons, Lysseth. Of course 
you should be the only one that acknowledges what everyone knows about 
your rider. >>

Benden Weyr> Alyssa says, "Can I be with you?"

Benden Weyr> Alyssa thought Southern sounded nice :)

Benden Weyr> Kassima wafflesalutes the FL, and awwwwws, no fair! :P ;)

Lavinia walks in from the kitchen.

Lysseth> Lysseth's claws curl around her talon-sharpening rock, shattering 
it into many fragments. Judging by this and by the viciously orange shade 
of her faceted eyes, she is Not a Happy Green.

Lavinia smiles "Hello!:

Lysseth> Dulath sidles a little further away from the angry glowing green.

K'tyn gets to his feet. "Ah, got to ask Keth about something. Be right 
back."

K'tyn walks towards the inner cavern.

C'vadan doesn't answer Kassima's question, hoping that the distraction of 
everyone coming and going will make her forget.

Lysseth> I bespoke Dulath with << What *everyone* knows about my rider? My 
rider is *my rider*, the only one worthy to be so, and even if she is 
strange, nonsensical, stubborn, headstrong, temperamental.... >> The list 
sounds like it might go on forever, but Lysseth is better at breaking off 
rambling than Kassima is. << She is *not* to be ridiculed with 
impunity! >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << I do not ridicule your rider. Nor 
does mine. We *both* feel you and she are a great asset to the Weyr. You 
know I would not tell you an untruth. >>

"You," says Kassima, in that same chilled tone, "have angered my dragon. 
You have insulted me. You have thus insulted her, as goes without saying. 
If it would nay do as much harm to Dulath as 'twould to you, I do believe 
that I'd like to chop off all your limbs, one by one, here and now, where 
you stand." But she doesn't, needless to say. Instead, she turns her chair 
to face the Bowl and stares outside, her expression an ice-cold mask of 
impassivity (assuming that's a word, that is).

C'vadan says quite sincerely, "I apologize, Kassima. It was never my 
intention to insult either of you." He rises and starts for the bowl. "I 
shall take Dulath away so Lysseth doesn't have to deal with his presence. 
Or you with mine."

Lysseth> Dulath senses that Lysseth is a bit mollified, but not by all 
that much. << A fool could not be an asset to the Weyr. Make up your mind 
where you stand, Dulath. >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << I stand by my Weyr, Lysseth. 
Anything else is merely the observations of my rider, who I love dearly, 
even if he does make mistakes. >>

Kassima breaks off from trying to calm her green long enough to glance 
sharply at Cav. "What, when I've obviously been making a great bloody fool 
of m'self *yet again*?" she asks, somewhat drolly. "Faranth forfend anyone 
should leave on account of a lack-witted idiot fool of a greenrider."

C'vadan turns back. "No, Kassi. Shall we have a drink to let bygones be 
bygones?"

Lysseth> Dulath senses that Lysseth rumbles with an echo of former 
annoyance. << Well. I also love my rider more than life, as all dragons 
do, even when she is being a lackwit. It is not a pleasure to hear that 
everyone thinks of her in such a manner. >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << Not everyone does. Nor does my 
rider think this all the time. My rider trusts you and your rider with 
his life every time we fly Thread. He wouldn't do that with a complete 
fool. >>

Benden Weyr> T'ren recites, "And in the frozen land of Nador, they were 
forced to EAT Robin's Minstrels (looking at Kassi as if she were a 
waffle). And there was much rejoicing..."

Kassima sighs. "I suppose," is her definitely begrudging answer. Forgive, 
she might, but forget? Don't bet your life on it. "'Twould be a shame to 
let this pepperminty stuff go undrunk, after all."

Benden Weyr> T'lar says, "Is she reciting Holy Grail again?"

Lysseth> Above, From the Benden Star Stones, M'nar's mint green Gelth 
rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Ularrith and his rider, 
M'rgan of HighReaches Weyr.

C'vadan smiles and approaches Kassima, refilling first her glass and then 
his.

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Ularrith bugles a greeting as he spirals 
down towards the barracks. << Where are the younglings? >>
Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Benden dragons with <<  Sleeping and not bothering 
me. >>

Lysseth> I bespoke Dulath with << No. No one who is *not* a complete fool 
would, after all. >> Probably as close a thing to a compliment as is going 
to come from *her* anytime soon, that's for sure. << Dragons cannot fly 
Thread effectively if they are angered with one another. Neither can 
riders. I will try to calm mine down further, as she does for me. >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Benden dragons with << I thought the reverse was 
true, Nicoth. >>

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "Nee, T'lar! Nee! Nee! ;)"

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "Hey there, T'lar. You going to keep that 
nearsighted brute of yours away from Duly this time? ;)"

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Benden dragons with <<  I'm going to eat you one 
day, blue boy. But you're too small for one meal. >>

Benden Weyr> T'lar says, "Dulath was the one in the way as I remember it."

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "Bronzeriders and their selective memories..."

Benden Weyr> Kassima tosses a knife at T in belated greeting. :)

Benden Weyr> T'lar says, "Yikes!! I prefer waffles, thanks."

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Benden dragons with << Not to worry, Adonith. 
Nicoth will likely catch a wherry and think he has caught you. >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Benden dragons with << Impossible, Dulath. Browns 
are wherry-colored. I am gemstone-hued. >>

Kassima accepts the glass, then hrms and dumps a portion of it into the 
already-lethal klah-liquor mixture and drinks. "Better," she opines. 
"Better this way, certes."

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Nicoth hmmmmms. << Dulath is brown... >>

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Lysseth gripes audibly about braggart 
blues for a moment, then receeds back into simple irate seething.

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Ularrith rumbles in amusement at Dulath. 
<< I thought you were going to say that Adonith would catch a wherry and 
think he has caught a green. >>

C'vadan tsks. "You do a diservice to its creator by mixing it so, Kassi." 
He pours more into her glass. "To friendship," he toasts.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Benden dragons with << No. I have caught greens. 
*I* know what they are like. >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Benden dragons with << No, Ularrith. My 
clutchbrother knows what a green looks like. Now, a gold, he's not so 
sure of. >>

Lysseth> Nicoth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> T'lar slides precipitously down from Nicoth's back.

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Ularrith peers down from on high at 
*image of Lysseth*. << What's her problem? >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Benden dragons with << Lysseth has no problems, 
Ularrith. She is quite perfect. >>

Kassima arches an eyebrow and smirks, rather sardonically. "Aye." She 
drains three-quarters of the glass in a single sip, setting the sinister 
statuette up on the table. "There, I think 'tis done." The likeness is 
rather eerily familiar, though it's hard to say just *who* has been 
captured in this particular pose of horror: the carving's mouth is wide 
in a soundless scream, as he appears to be convulsing in agony. "Best one 
yet, if'n you're asking me. Though I like that one with all the crossbow-
bolts stuck through him as well."

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Prometh yawns! <<Lysseth! How lovely 
you are. My! Look at that shine.>>

C'vadan smiles and downs his glass. He then picks up the skin. "Just a 
glass worth's left, Kassi," he says, pouring it into her glass. "You 
should have the honor."

T'lar walks in from the bowl.

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Lysseth snorts at Prometh. << That's 
what they all say, >> she snaps, rustling her wings irritably.

T'lar comes in shaking off his riding jacket. He smiles tiredly and moves 
over to claim some mulled wine from the pot on the hearth.

C'vadan waves to T'lar, then turns his attention back to Kassima.

T'lar waves to C'vadan and glances from Kassima to the tunnel to the bowl.

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Ularrith is taken aback for a moment but 
eventually the spinners clogging his brain leave for warmer, brighter 
pastures, taking most of their webs with them. << Oh!! So /that's/ how it 
is. >> His mental voice takes on an almost-feline-like purr. << Nice to 
see you again, Lysseth. >>

Kassima peers into the refilled glass with lingering distrust. "You didn't 
pour Aphrael's hallucinogenic herbs into the last of this or something, 
did you? Mayhaps some fellis, or aconite? Or even numbweed?" Sticking her 
finger into the glass proves *that* not to be true, at least. She gestures 
to T'lar with her knife in what might be some odd form of greeting.

Lysseth> Ularrith backwings for a landing.

T'lar says "Hi, Kassi. My, that knife looks sharp." He moves over to sit 
at the same table, but down at the end. "You been taking really good care 
of it I see."

C'vadan blinks, looking painfully hurt at the suggestion. "I guarentee 
there is nothing dangerous in this, Kassi."

Lysseth> Ularrith lands near the other males with great beats of his 
wings, purposely stirring up the dirt and muck.

Lysseth> Dulath warbles at the other dragons, then sidles a little closer 
to Lysseth.

Lysseth> Prometh preens his digits carefully, and not incidentally, 
displays his great ruddy self to its best vantage.

Lysseth> Dulath raises up a wing, protecting Lysseth from the snowy mush 
Ularrith is projecting.

Lysseth> Lysseth flicks a stray bit of muck away with one wing, snarling 
under her breath at the bronzes and browns. She takes three steps--not 
two, not four, but three, that number you get when you subtract seven 
from ten or one from eight--backwards, and turns her head to pointedly 
ignore them.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "One from eight?"

Kassima grimaces. "Aye, well, I wouldn't put it past brownriders to be 
the vengeful sorts. I still suspect 'twas a brownrider who tried to poison 
me with Water that once, and I think I've nearly figured out who...." She 
slides a glance at T'lar and replies shortly, "I have."

Lavinia giggles

Lysseth> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan wipes at his goggles as visibility 
drops close to zero. "Cut it out, Ulie!" A bit more scrubbing and he can 
see again. "Sheesh. Why'd you have to go and do that?" While he unstraps, 
the brown dragon croons apologetically but Ularrith's eyes aren't on his 
rider but the sensual green that he can tell is just longing for the 
strong yet gentle touch of a certain High Reaches brown.

Lysseth> Okay, okay, five from eight. Who says dragons can do math?

T'lar nods. "You always have the best knives."

Lysseth> M'rgan hops down Ularrith's side to the ground, the dragon's 
sparkling eyes watching closely.

Benden Weyr> Kassima is a 11th-grade Calculus student who can't add 
properly, Cav. Sad, isn't it? :P

C'vadan grins at the mention of 'water'. "Oh, Kassi, did you see the 
markings burned into the skin," he asks.

Benden Weyr> F'nar giggles. Don't worry. If you learn how to take a 
derivative, you forget how to add. When you learn integrals, you'll forget 
how to subtract.

Benden Weyr> Kassima grins. I have learned integrals, which is no doubt 
why I said subtracting one from eight would get three. :P :)

Kassima eyes Cav with suspicion flaring back into life like a brushfire. 
"Markings? What markings?" She sets her glass down, pushing it away a bit.

Lysseth> M'rgan, as usual, moves towards the living cavern, oblivious of 
Lysseth's glowing form or Ularrith's aching need for her. Which is 
probably for the best. Since if he was aware of it, he'd be hauling the 
brown dragon out of there post-haste. Hum de dum. Into the cavern he goes. 
And into the fires of hell itself.

C'vadan rocks back and forth on his toes, merely smiling.

M'rgan walks in from the bowl.

C'vadan grins as M'rgan arrives. "Oh, thank you again, Mart, for telling 
me about that brewer."

M'rgan strips off his helmet and gloves as he strolls into the room. A 
faint grin appears on his face as he recognizes a few of the people in the 
room and he lifts a hand in greeting. Poor kid. Little does he know...
"Reaches' duties to Benden. Hiya, Cav. Kassi. T'lar. Oh, hi, Lavinia." 
Stepping closer he asks the brownrider, "Brewer?"

T'lar waves to M'rgan. "Evening. Welcome home." He smirks.

Lavinia smiles "Hi!"

Lysseth> K'tyn sighs at the massive amount of hidework in his arms. "Aie. 
You'd think it was a book I was writing!"

K'tyn walks in from the bowl.

C'vadan nods. "Yup, Kassi, you can thank Mart here for me finding this 
drink for you," he says, still rocking on his toes.

K'tyn wanders back in, arms filled with hides, old, musty and crumbling. 
"Thank Mart? Kassi?"

M'rgan peers at Cav in complete confusion. But since this is the normal 
state for him, you probably wouldn't notice anything unusual. Giving 
C'vadan a dismissive shrug since if he thinks about it anymore his brain 
will explode, the brownrider turns his attention to T'lar as he tucks his 
helmet under his arm. "I don't suppose you know when the weyrlings will be 
out of class. Ularrith wanted to take a peek at them."

Kassima is sitting at a table near the others, grotesque wooden carvings 
of men and animals in tortured death-throes surrounding her. Judging by 
the wood-shavings all over her clothes and the knife in her hand, they're 
her own handiwork, sure enough. Without deigning to notice Mart's 
presence, she snatches up the bottle and stares at the label pointedly.

Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth clears her throat and 
rumblerumbles. << Evening, ladies and gentledragons. My rider wishes me 
to convey that I'll be rising fairly shortly over Benden Weyr (poor 
them!); blooding will begin in about five minutes, and any interested 
parties should join the +flights channel and all that foo. Thanks! >>

Benden Weyr> P'tran has to head out. Night all, and have a nice flight, 
Kassima :)

T'lar shakes his head. "Haven't been paying much attention. Don't get to 
see Meli enough to ask either."

The markings on the skin read: 100% PURE BENDEN WATER - with a hint of 
peppermint oil.

Dragon> Green dragons sense that Gwirith chuckles. "Don't let them catch 
you easily, Lysseth. Make them work for it!"

Benden Weyr> K'tyn waves! G'night, P'tran. :) sleep well.

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "Star Wars, F'nar, not Star Trek. ;) Some guy 
asked me if I was married in the video store the other day, actually. I 
told him that since I'm sixteen, I somehow doubt it... night, FL! And 
thanks! :)"

Benden Weyr> T'lar says, "Night, P'tran. Running from the proddy rider, I 
see."

Benden Weyr> Kassima eyes her lag. Okay, which sick and twisted little Net 
God has it in for me this time?

Benden Weyr> M'rgan tells Kassi that it's the same god that has it in for 
him.

Kassima shrieks and throws the skin right across the Cavern, where it 
bonks poor V'dan on the head. Unheeding of the plight of her fellow 
greenrider--or his groans as he falls off the chair, felled by her deadly 
aim with an empty skin, she snaps--no, more like shrieks, "You gave me 
*Benden Water*?!?"

Lysseth> Adonith backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Alyssa slides down the beautiful purplish blue flank of her 
lifemate to come to a rest on the ground, Adonith swinging his head 
around to regard her adoringly.

C'vadan falls back laughing, clutching his sides.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth taps the mic experimentally. << All 
systems go? >>

T'lar laughs despite himself. "Oh, great. And right when Lysseth is going 
to rise."

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << I am here, oh lovely Lysseth. >>

K'tyn blinks at C'vadan, then turns away, rapidly.

Alyssa walks in from the bowl.

Benden Weyr> T'ren reads +flights "Oh no, it's Kassi AGAIN!"

Benden Weyr> T'ren snugs Kassi. (;

If one were to look at K'tyn, in this moment, one would see his tall form 
shuddering slightly, his head tucked down hands clasped on the table. He 
carefully is not looking at anyone.

Kassima leaps to her feet and runs for the nearest basin or bucket or 
something, sticking her finger down her throat as she goes. Too bad that 
doesn't work. "I'm going to *kill* you for this, Cav!" she screams, and 
unlike last time, sounds like she really means it. "And you too, Mart!" 
Mind, she doesn't realize that Mart had anything to do with this. She's 
just going to kill him on general principal.

C'vadan begins to cough, he is laughing so much.

Benden Weyr> T'saren wonders if tonight will be when the Weyrlings get our 
education in mating flights then. ;)

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Okay... Mousketeer Roll Call? :) >>

Lavinia walks off towards the kitchen.

M'rgan shakes his head a bit sadly as he listens to T'lar. "Your loss, my 
friend. Meli's quite a..." Blink. Blinkity-blink. The sheer force of 
Kassima's shriek sends M'rgan skittering back, his helmet falling from 
frozen fingers. "What the?!!!!" A little longer look at Kassima and the 
brownrider turns as white as the snow covering the Reaches bowl right now. 
"Why doesn't somebody warn a guy," he whine-wails. "Urp," is in answer to 
Kassima's threat.

Nodding quietly to everyone, Alyssa removes her jacket and stops at the 
screech from Kassima. "Greenrider," she says mildly. "Kassima...Please."

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith has come to snuggle with you, Lysseth.

Lysseth> Adonith bugles brightly, happily, and launches himself without 
another pause.

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

Benden Weyr> Kassima thinks the dragons are still too young, Tas, more's 
the pity. ;)

Benden Bowl> Above, Adonith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

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

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

Benden Bowl> Above, Nicoth flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Benden Bowl> Above, Dulath flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

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

Benden Weyr> T'saren chuckles and winks at Kassi.

T'lar looks out at the bowl with a groan. "Not now."

K'tyn looks up, and unholy grin on his face that may be visible to those 
about him. Slowly, he gathers up his mass of hides and take a seat.

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

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

C'vadan suddenly stops laughing. "Oh, no. Not *now*!"

Kassima snarls as she clenches her fingers around the rim of the basin 
she's kneeling in front of, trying desperately--without success--to rid 
her system of that... *stuff*. "They've bloody sharding fardling shell-
blasted well *poisoned* me, and you want me to be *calm*?" No, we are not 
looking at a happy greenrider here.

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

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Adonith wastes no time. None. It's 
as if he's starved himself all day for this momentous feeding. Plummeting 
like blue death from above, he downs a small herdbeast and slices it open, 
stem to stern, with a single slash of the claw. His muzzle presses inward 
to catch the blood, steam simmering upward around his maw, as he settles 
on his haunches to feed.

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Nicoth dives out of the sky toward 
the unsuspecting herds. Backwinging at the last moment, he snatches up a 
large herd buck who screams horribly. Landing off to one side, he rips 
open the beast's neck and begins to suckle the warm life's blood.

M'rgan slumps forward across the nearest table, his hands catching his 
fall just in time. "Oh, Ulie," he says softly, a combination of anguish 
and acceptance of his fate. A glance out of the corner of his eye at Kassi 
and his expression takes on a touch more anguish.

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, On his way into the bowl, Prometh 
snares a fleeing herdbeast buck, rending it and draining it in one smooth 
stroke of claw and tooth.

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Dulath lands on the first beast that 
comes his way, taking it down with a savagry unlike him. He buries his 
muzzle into the beast's belly, sucking un its lifesblood. Steam rises 
from the kill in the chill Benden air.

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith coils deep into himself the 
moment his feet touch the trampled, slushy ground of the feeding pens. 
His turbulently swirling eyes observe all vigilantly though he remains 
frozen in place, poised on the edge of movement. Looking for all the 
world like a statue carved from burnished oak, polished until it gleams.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth all rights, we all know the drill. :) 
<< I'll join y'all at the Feeding Grounds in three minutes or so. Anyone 
who doesn't want to win, be sure to page Kassima sometime before the 
flight's over; otherwise, you're fair game. The channel will be OOC, and 
I don't mind occasional heckling. ;) One dragon pose per Lyss pose, one 
rider pose per Kassi pose--and most importantly, good luck to 
everyone! :) >>

Alyssa kneels beside Kassima, hand on her hair. "Are you all right, 
love?" she inquires gently, immediately concerned despite the homicidal 
gleam to the greenrider's eyes. But what catches her is something 
happening in the bowl -- and it makes her stand up again, hurriedly. "Oh, 
dear..."

T'lar chuckles darkly, then drains the mug of wine. "I guess we now know 
why Kassima has been a bit on edge of late." He glances down the table at 
the still livid greenrider. "Okay, more that a bit on edge."

C'vadan glances at T'lar, trying to smile. But he *never* thought Lysseth 
would rise right now.

Kassima pushes herself away from the basin with an effort, eyes fiery 
against the dark sockets they're set in--testimony to too much headache 
and not enough sleep. "Am I all right? Oh, certes. I'm fardling 
*marvelous.*" If there were such a thing as Essence of Sarcasm, one might 
suspect that she's chosen to pour it all over those words.

"Kassima." The name is spoken softly but firmly, just like the touch of 
Alyssa's hand on the rider's arm. "The males are blooding. You might be 
more comfortable outside."

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Tossing the drained carcass from him 
like so much rubbish, Prometh prowls for a second kill through the 
turned-up sludge that is melting snow and mud and herdbeast offal. Spying 
a lone beast, heavy with winter's fat, he lunges, lightning fast --All 
that can be seen is a spray of blood, misting into the freezing air. The 
beast makes a low gurgle and expires as the ruddy feeds upon it.

Lysseth> Lysseth snaps to attention, with a vengeance; within a moment of 
full waking, she rears up on her haunches to scream at the stars as though 
they had mortally offended her in some manner. She remains locked in this 
pose for a bare moment, before springing aloft in a flurry of wings and 
wind.

T'lar stands, making a neat pile of jacket, gloves and helmet. Motioning 
to a young weyrbrat, he says, "Would you put these out of the way for now. 
Looks like I'm going to be busy for a time." His voice seems deeper and 
harsher. His eyes dart continuously from Kassima to the bowl entrance.

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

Benden Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Dulath finishes with the first beast, 
the blood on his muzzle a strange hue in the light of the twin moons. He 
snaps his tail against the back legs of another herdbeast, taking it down 
with a thud. Again, he draws the energy he will need to give chase from 
its dying body.

Just as Kassi jerks her arm away, a draconic scream echoes in from 
outside, heralding the start of the fun and games. "Dragonskin boots are 
too good for her," the greenrider mutters with an oath as she storms past 
the various people and outside without another word.

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

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

Benden LC> C'vadan starts to take off his jacket, then decides if they are 
going outside, he may as well keep it on. He follows Kassima out.

C'vadan comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds.

Benden LC> Alyssa presses her hand to her forehead. "So much," she 
murmurs, "for a romantic evening..."

Lysseth> Nicoth growls deep within his throat as he turns his bloody 
muzzle toward the scattered herds in the feeding grounds. One deep sweep 
of his wings propels him up and across the pasture to land in the midst of 
the bovines and on top of one in particular. A rake of his back leg opens 
the beast up, entrails steaming in the cold night air. Another growl 
precedes his feeding.

Benden LC> K'tyn sits, quietly stunned. As the others leave, he stands, 
moving mechanically along with them. A faint smile passes across his face 
as Alyssa speaks.

K'tyn comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> Adonith drinks deeply of the herdbeast's crimson essence, 
allowing not an ounce of the precious fluid to be wasted. He is neat, he 
is thorough, and he is centered on his task. Centered, that is, until 
Lysseth appears in her glowing glory. At last he raises his head, rumbling 
abject sounds of sheer, wanton dragonlust for her hearing only.

Benden LC> T'lar walks over and offers Alyssa his arm. His eyes caress her 
form with nothing resembling affection. "Shall we also go outside?"

Lysseth> Lysseth dives from above like a comet, almost seeming to stream 
emerald luminescence behind her as she aims for--and, naturally, hits--the 
body of a terrified wherry. The creature squishes under all the high-
velocity dragonweight with a final shriek of anguish, followed by the 
sharp *crack* of a broken spine. Lysseth grabs the thing in her muzzle, 
shaking it about like a canine with a rag doll, before ripping off the 
head to cast it aside. With a last snarl in the bouncing cerebrum's 
direction, she lowers her head to drink of the spurting life's-bloods.

Benden LC> M'rgan pushes away from the table only to spin around and 
flomp onto the bench, huddling close to himself as the others move towards 
the bowl. Like most things since he became a dragonrider, he is alone with 
his lifemate. All else melts away.

Benden LC> Alyssa takes the proffered arm and sighs. "I suppose we 
should."

Lysseth> Dulath warbles loudly at Lysseth appearance, stretching out his 
wings in preparation to give her chase. Every muscle ripples as he does 
so, taut with excitement brought on by the arrival of the beautiful 
glowing green.

Lysseth> Ularrith's contemplative meditation abruptly ends as a caprine 
blunders into his view, chased by a grey-blue dragon. A sharp talon...a 
delicate throat...a blur of movement...a burbling bleat of pain quickly 
ended. Ularrith hunches over the prize he so easily stole from the blue 
dragon, letting the caprine's hot blood focus his vision away from the 
resounding chaos around him.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << That, my dearest green love, was 
GROSS. >>

T'lar comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

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

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth takes a bow. << Thank you; I try. ;) >>

T'lar walks Alyssa up to stand near the other riders. His eyes transfer 
from her to the greenrider. "I had forgotten how beautiful she can be."

Lysseth> Prometh looks up from his gory feast, tongue flicking out to 
clean his muzzle as Lysseth arrows in and lands, striking her first kill 
from the skies. Respectfully, he backs away from her, bugling a brazzy 
note.

Alyssa glances at Kassima and closes her eyes. "I hadn't."

Kassima rakes tendrils of thick black hair blown by the wind out of her 
face, grinning ferally for a moment as a distant crack resounds. She 
clenches black-gloved fists and chants, "Blood, blood, blood, blood, 
blood, blood...." This she repeats over and over again, like some sort of 
eccentric mantra.

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh lags, Oh joy.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth welcomes Prometh to the club. I think we 
all are, or will be, at some point. :)

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  I forgot I was listening here. >>

C'vadan licks his lips, dry in the winter air. He tries not to think of 
how lovely Kassima is right now, or how his lifemate's need is increasing 
his desire for the unpredictable greenrider. He concentrates on how cold 
his feet are.

Dragon> Flight sense that Aberuth watches with popcorn

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith waves a wing at Last Night's Winner.

K'tyn seems awestruck, himself, peering as he is at Kassima's form. A dry 
tongue scrapes across dryer lips. He moves toward her, a step, two, 
pausing between each to recognize and understand her unique beauty.

Lysseth> Lysseth kicks aside the desiccated carcass in a show of disdain, 
and launches herself aloft again--skimming a brief finger's height over 
the males with a mocking cry. A flurry of movement up ahead catches her 
attention, and she lashes her tail to send the herdbeast beneath her 
crashing into the fence. Slinking towards the bone-shattered beast, she 
slices its throat and takes from therein her own needed nourishment.

Lysseth> Nicoth flicks a distainful tail at an encroaching brown. His 
voice alters from growl to croon as Lysseth joins the rutting males. 
Flinging away the now dry carcass, he lashes out with a wing to down a 
wherry. It too adds to his strength and his lust for the flight.

Lysseth> Herdbeast drained of the rich ruby liquid once needed to sustain 
its recently ended existence, Adonith steps over the wretched mess he had 
created, now firelizard feed, and regards the remaining beasts. A trio of 
lightning-like wing beats propel the blue toward the wherries, where an 
overstuffed male is brought down seconds later. The poor creature's 
unfortunate horror is brought to a sharp end by the snapping of its neck 
and, while it wings off to Wherry Afterlife, Adonith starts in on his 
second kill.

Dragon> Prometh bespoke Flight with << Any rules that need to be spoken? 
I've joined this channel late. >>

Lysseth> As he feels the warmth of her body just over his head, Ularrith 
abandons the caprine to the ravages of time and predators, the luminous 
vision of Lysseth obliterating all thoughts of hunger from his tumultous 
mind. The sight of her brings a sharp clarity to his thoughts as he 
focuses on just one goal, to have her for himself, no matter the cost.
Lysseth> Dulath finishes with his fourth beast and hops away from the mess 
he has created in the snow. He warbles loudly his intention to give chase 
and win the lithesome Lysseth, his eyes whirling with desire and 
determination.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Just the usual ones, Prometh. Page 
if you don't want to win, one-to-one pose ratio, have fun, and good 
luck. :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith wants a handicap.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Aside from his typist. >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << You are a handicap, brother :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Nicoth thwaps Adonith's typist.

Dragon> Flight sense that Dulath snugs Adonith's typist. Her, he likes. :)

Kassima folds her arms and for one ironic moment resembles some sort of 
figure of dark legend, with the black cape flaring behind her and feet 
planted in a firm stance as she stares off into the distance. She is, 
blessedly, ignorant of much of anything going on right now that doesn't 
involve Lysseth's gory viande du jour.

Lysseth> Nicoth settles back and waits. His eye whirl rapidly, red 
changing to violet. All muscles tensed and ready.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth offers to hamstring you on her next 
pass through the grounds, Adonith? ;)

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << I AM the smallest dragon 
here. :> >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Yike. She is feeling a bit 
predatory. >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Smallest and fastest. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Dulath snickers.

Lysseth> Prometh peers at Lysseth with gleaming eyes that are deepening 
from his normal aqua shades to the twilit hues of the evening sky. 
Warbling almost against his will, he offers testament to her fey beauty, 
her strength and perspicacity. Rearining back, wings outstretched, he 
waits for this gleaming beacon to rise, and lead him into pursuit.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Actually, I am... but not by 
much. ;) Unless you're 25-meters too, Adonith? :) >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << No. 27. But...ah...size doesn't 
count. >>

Alyssa has ventured outside sans riding jacket; in fact, her ensemble 
seems as though she had not intended to be out of the weyr for long. Her 
chemise flutters about her ankles, arms hugging herself, gaze 
deliberately averted from Kassima.

T'lar stands rigidly in the cold wind. His grey eyes are dark with the 
needs of his lifemate. One hand comes up and wipes his mouth as if to 
clean away something that is not there. He goes back to waiting.

C'vadan watches the scene in the feeding grounds with some interest, 
mixed with some fear as his plans seemed to have gone awry.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith puffs out his chest. << It's what you 
do with it. >>

Lysseth> Lysseth curls her tail about the shredded meat that remains from 
her last meal, slowly raising herself to her full height. She stares 
silently at the males, meeting the eyes of each for a brief moment, her 
entire posture one of challenge. Then, she is gone--no, not gone; aloft, 
quicker than can be either believed or seen.

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> Ularrith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Wahoo! First in the air 
again. :> >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Aw, shat up, you over grown 
golddragon stealer. :) >>

Lysseth> Nicoth rises up from the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Dulath rises up from the feeding grounds.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth dragon-laughs. << Size matters not. 
Judge me by my size, do you? Sorry, fell into Star Wars mode for a sec 
there. We'll be going up two sky-spaces to save on spam. :) >>

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

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

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

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

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

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh rises up from the feeding grounds.

T'lar moves down a short passage and past a curtain, moving out of sight 
as he enters the Guest Weyr.

K'tyn moves down a short passage and past a curtain, moving out of sight 
as he enters the Guest Weyr.

Kassima's eyes follow Lysseth upward as the dragon ascends. "Let the games 
begin," she mutters, shaking her head to herself as she turns on her heel 
and stalks into the Guest Weyr.

You push aside the curtain and enter the weyr.

C'vadan comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Alyssa comes into the weyr from the bowl.

C'vadan comes into the weyr and takes a position as far away from Kassima 
as he possibly can. No need to court disaster at this time. "Oh, Duly, 
why did it have to be now?" he mutters in the dark.

M'rgan comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Alyssa takes her usual position in the far corner, hudding in her chemise, 
hugging her knees to her. She seems to have the attitude of one who needs 
merely to endure.

Lysseth> Lysseth darts upward with all the fleet-winged speed that she's 
ever shown, though for now she is merely playing; this is the beginning, 
when she has enough strength to call on to do whatever she wants and to 
go to any lengths to elude them--they, behind her; those pursuers who dare 
to think they're worthy of sharing the skies with her! Whimsy leads her to 
spend some of that on a backwards-directed bugle full of brassy challenge. 
Go away, her next bugle seems to add. Go away, or I shall taunt you a 
second time! The next moment, though, she is all business, and deftly 
wings underneath a passing flock of fire-lizards to soar onwards and 
upwards.

Lysseth> Nicoth wings upward into the grey night sky. He seems to hold 
back, allowing the other males to crowd ahead of him. Their wings vie for 
the same space, slowing them down, throwing them off their stride. The 
bronze spreads his wings and catches the rising air right out from under 
the others.

M'rgan wanders into the weyr with a dazed look about him, just following 
after an older rider. He'd probably have followed the other rider into the 
lake if that's where the man had gone. Almost in perfect mimicry, M'rgan 
and the other rider turn and slump against the wall, staring off into 
space.

Kassima claims 'her' space in the weyr, as far away from the others as 
possible and against the rough stone of the wall. Eyes dark, arms crossed, 
posture defiant, she dares anyone to even *try* to get any closer.

Lysseth> Dulath rises high into the dark Benden sky, a shadowy figure 
passing between the beacons of the twin moons. Riding the familiar 
thermals, he glides, saving his energy for when the chase becomes 
interesting. For now, he is content to gaze upon the triumphant mighty 
glowing form of Lysseth, she who owns the air and the sky.

T'lar walks over away from the door and leans back against the wall, arms 
folded across his chest. His eyes are wide open as he stares before him. 
Sometimes, he is focused here, but more often, he is flying with his 
lifemate.

Lysseth> Like a sapphire spear splitting the greyness of the Benden eve 
does Adonith hurtle to the vanward of Lysseth's airborne amours. Does her 
taunting adversely affect him? Not in the least. Every glance, every sound 
she bestows upon the males is an encouragement to fly farther, faster. His 
hearts thrum ichor throughout his frame like fuel for an efficient 
draconic engine, a creation whose sole purpose is the eventual pleasure of 
his green mistress.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Adonith, quit that. >>

C'vadan takes a quick look at Kassima. Bad idea. Caught between his own 
fears and his dragon's needs, he takes a step towards her. He stops, fear 
winning out over desire. As a check against further intrusion, he sits 
down hard on the floor.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Eh? >>

Lysseth> Ularrith soars after Lysseth, much slower but with even more 
confidence. Her taunts wash over him though they come from on high and 
though some of the blood from her kills splatters back at him as she 
bugles. He trumpets after her as his wings beat more strongly, blurring 
like that of a Neratian, not Lemosian, wild avian. Don't run away. Don't 
run away.

Dragon> Flight sense that Dulath thinks he refers to the poetry you call 
posing, brother.

K'tyn follows Kassima into the weyr, seemingly bewitched by her presence. 
He moves, stiltedly, standing with his back at the wall and facing the 
greenrider. With sSlowly, He pulls his riding gear from his head, tucking 
gloves almost automatically into his belt. He simply stares, bemused, at 
Kassima.

Kassima's eyes regain a semblance of sense long enough to flash a warning 
to those already too close, and she abandons her seemingly-casual slouch 
against the wall to step backwards... right into the wall. Maybe standing 
there wasn't such a good idea after all.

Alyssa rests her forehead on her knee as she hugs her legs more tightly to 
her chest. "Please...not tonight," she murmurs, though deep within her a 
stronger emotion begs her lifemate to catch again the green called 
Lysseth.

Dragon> Aberuth bespoke Flight with << Adonith is a great dragon. >> 
Aberuth smooches him to proove it, << And I like his posing. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith would swoon, but Aber's the wrong 
color. :> And thanks, then, guys. But I'm in humbling company.

Dragon> Flight sense that Aberuth also knows better than to go up against 
Adonith in a flight, thank you.

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh leaps upward as soon as he detects 
Lysseth's lithe form crouching to spring upward into the heavens. He 
pushes against the air strongly, leaping almost, from one updraft to 
another as he rises quickly about the main pack of males.

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << Some of us are gluttons for 
punishment ;) >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Adonith may not win that often, but 
his flight is very nice to watch. >>

C'vadan wraps his arms around himself, rocking back and forth, willing his 
dragon to fly and succeed as he always does, but openly fearing that he 
just might. Fate is a cruel trickster.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith comes to these things in the hopes that 
some of these brilliant poses will sink into his brain so that he can spit 
them back out later without having to plagiarize them. ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh thinks that You, Ularrith, do all too 
well.:) :)

Lysseth> Lysseth usually makes for the heights at first, then falls into a 
dive towards the grounds below; thus, it might be expected that she would 
follow this pattern again. That is a mistake. Cannily, she snatches up the 
lesson that experience teaches her, and uses it to guide her wings not up, 
not down--but to the west, streaking forward at a diagonal at a speed that 
leaves any chasers eating her sky-dust... for now. She hurtles through a 
low-slung cloud, trails of the white fog streaming from her wings like 
banners, and slices the sky like a knife as she heads directly for the 
Star Stones.

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh sighs, that was lovely, Kass. :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth fehs. << You're all doing very well, you 
sadists you. You enjoy making choosing hard on me--admit it! ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith nodsnodsnods!

Lysseth> Moisture from the cloud-laden sky clings to Nicoth's hide and 
glistens in the difused light. Night darkens his hide, all but concealing 
the gold and green markings. The only true color in the overcast sky is 
the glowing green that rises above. The heavy air rises slowly, but Nicoth 
turns toward the wall and the warmth issuing from the weyrs. This slower 
spiral brings him nearer the green at first, then away. There is yet time 
for the chase has just begun.

Lysseth> Ularrith struggles in the unfamiliar winds of Benden, his flight 
more shaky, less sure, that those who live here. But he is young and 
arrogant and the breathtaking sight of Lysseth's lithe form adds passion 
and steadying confidence to his wingstrokes. He beats strongly, rising 
higher into the air, flying far above the grey and barren bowl. To the 
heights where mountains are covered in snow that is as white as the 
twinkling stars and as pure as his heart.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth awws and blushes. If dragons *can* 
blush. Thanks, you guys. :)

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  We must give Lysseth the chase she 
deserves. And if the choosing is harder, well, that's payback for the 
proddy rider. ;) >>

"Yessss...." The word, so rarely escaping Kassi's lips without being 
twisted by her brogue, comes out as more of a hiss. "Escape them, love. 
Escape them--" Words break off as her eyes dim, attention back with her 
flying lifemate and otherself.

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh pushes his massive frame through the sky 
turning subtly as Lysseth moves through the sky westward, a gleaming green 
beacon that calls to him like a sirensings her deadly song to a passing 
sailor. He cannot refuse or refute it

Lysseth> Dulath is not fooled by Lysseth's clever and agile maneuver. He 
tilts one ome muddy brown wing, the air flowing past him whistling the 
hunter's song. For that is what he is, the hunter. After the most elusive 
treasure, the noble and elegant Lysseth. There is only one, for beauty is 
cast but once in the fair clay and never to be sculpted again. Driving 
his wings with powerful strokes, he is a javelin cast down from the sky by 
some long forgotten god of thunder to illuminate the path of Lysseth.

A slow smile crosses T'lar's face and he nods in admiration of the green's 
tactic. "Just wait," he mutters. "The flight's only begun."

C'vadan looks up from his huddled position, dark eyes taking in Kassima's 
lithe form. He shuts them again, returning his concentration to his 
lifemate's quest. Willing him to succeed.

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh pushes his massive frame through the sky 
turning subtly as Lysseth moves through the sky westward, a gleaming green 
beacon that calls to him like a sirensings her deadly song to a passing 
sailor. He cannot refuse or refute it--instead, he pulls himself after 
her, only the faintest of gleams from his brilliant hide and purple-hued 
eyes reveal his presence in the sky. (corrected pose.)

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh grrs! i HATE not being able to use semi-
colons. Bleh. Sorry for the spam, friends.

Lysseth> Adonith bugles, not in challenge this time, not in blood lust, 
but in the upsweep of self-indulgent delight that these flights inspire. 
The very fog around Lysseth's glimmering body seems luminescence itself, 
wispy white whirls kissed green by the passage of her grandious glowing. 
How can that not inspire any male dragon? He could be spurred onward in 
this chase by sight alone, driven to maddening desires by the sheer glory 
of her aerial dance.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << EEEEEW >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Sorry. That was about my pose. Not 
Prometh. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh turns a jaundiced eye toward his 
brother. Yea. Right! :)

M'rgan's blue eyes are hooded, hiding the lust gleaming there, as he 
remains deathly still. Every ounce of his energy streams across the bond 
to his lifemate; every bit of his soul joins Ularrith in his hunger.

Alyssa still refuses to look at Kassima, though she appears to have lost 
the chill her scant attire earlier caused. Indeed, like the others, she 
is warm within and without, and her dragon's singleminded desires are 
taking their toll.

Lysseth> Imagine, for a moment, a jade carving--a Master Minecrafter's 
masterpiece, impeccable in its beauty and strength--suddenly given 
animation and the soul of one who deplores losing any challenge. You 
might come close then to approaching the image of Lysseth as she is now: 
quicksilver limning traces starfire over her resplendant green hide, 
shimmering with the illumination in a dazzling dance of fire and ice. Two 
perfect cabochon amethyst glow with life's own flame to pierce through the 
darkness of night, through the snow-laced clouds that would befuddle the 
senses and obscure her way. The Star Stones lie ahead. And it seems for 
one moment that she would rather throw herself at them at maximum speed 
than to be captured by anyone or anything--but it is not so, for she does 
not fall. Wings cupping the wind, she veers straight upwards at the *last 
possible* moment, a manuever that displays every ounce of the agility that 
is rightfully hers as a Benden green.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth apologizes for delays, by the by. I'm 
making all of this up as I go along, so please bear with me. :)

K'tyn shudders slowly, his eyes tearing with the effort to remain focused, 
remain in contact with what is here, and what is now. Golden eyes seem 
molten as they leak moisture, salt trails shining down the planes of his 
cheeks. Blinking, he seems caught up in his own mantra...one that is 
easily understood. "Kassi, Kassi, Kassi!" he repeats, nearly subvocalizing 
them.

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh thinks you do wondrously! I love your 
imagery. :)

Lysseth> Nicoth's flight muscles bunch and relax as he propels himself 
higher into the air above Benden. He flies through swirls of fog left in 
the wake of the other dragons, bisecting them into smaller, more intense 
curls. Cresting the caldera's wall, he spirals back to intersect Lysseth's 
path. Silhouetted dark against the grey sky, he seems to hang on the 
clouds like a bird of prey awaiting the perfect moment to strike and 
claim its rightful prey.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  The best stuff is usually off the 
cuff. To illustrate my point, see Lysseth's last pose. >>

Dragon> Aberuth bespoke Flight with << Nice rhyme there, Nico. >>

Kassima's face mirrors her lifemate's triumph for an instant, lit with an 
indescribable and fierce joy at her lifemate's near-escape from certain 
death. Compared to the exhileration of being one with her dragon at this 
moment in time, perhaps it is little wonder that she is blank to all else 
around her.

Lysseth> Dulath is not a gem. He never claimed to be. Gems are treasures 
to hold and look upon in awe, as he does now to Lysseth as she glides 
through the night sky, Queen of the air and Inspiration to all male 
dragons, especially those who give chase now. Thought he is but one of 
many, he is so singleminded in his pursuit, his desire, his *need* to 
catch her that all others are chaff caught in the jetstream of his 
hurtling body. He is so close he can almost feel her within his grasp.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  I assume you were be facitious as 
I repeated "prey". Wasn't thinking straight. >>

Lysseth> Not having the quickness or agility of Lysseth, the star stones 
loom even more dangerously for Ularrith, quickly filling his sight with 
craggy, cold stone. But when danger rears its ugly head, brave Ularrith 
twists his tail and fled. Fleeing just past the stones, he willingly 
risked his bones. For brave, brave, brave Ularrith...will never let 
Lysseth get away, away.

Dragon> Flight sense that Aberuth meant in the channel pose, "I'm not 
watching the flight, sadly. But I know how killer Lysseth is."

C'vadan clutches his knees tightly, muscles taut as his dragon's. But he 
is too deep into the flight to have total will of his own. His eyes watch 
every move Kassima make, like a feline on the prowl. Some sound escapes 
his lips, almost feline-like in its growl.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth arghs as Ularrith cracks her typist up 
with those Monty Python references. ;) Now I have the Ballad of Brave Sir 
Robin in my head. Sheesh, all... I know I've said it already, but thanks! 
Y'all are pretty darned stellar yourselves. :)

T'lar's breath is coming faster. Running one hand through his short, 
blond curls, he shifts restlessly from foot to foot. He shakes his head 
in a vain attempt to clear the flight induced haze.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Oh, thanks. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith lost his pose. :P Hang on, sorry.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "Hiya, R'val :)"

Benden Weyr> R'val says, "Hiya Cav. Suckered into Lysseth's flight, I 
see? ;)"

Benden Weyr> T'lar waves and wonders why R'val is not in the guest weyr.

Benden Weyr> C'vadan is a glutton for punishment. But I got my revenge :)

Benden Weyr> R'val says, "Cuz Highlander was on. Highlander is more 
important to me than a greenflight :)"

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth pages herself her own pose, and hangs 
on. :) This next one shouldn't be *quite* so spammy as the last, by the 
way.

Lysseth> Adonith curves his wings with infinitessimal precision to brake 
his forward motion the most efficiently and turn his direction of 
propulsion upward most effectively. Not as easily slowed as Lysseth, he 
must do-si-do around the Star Stones as if their partner in a rhythmic 
dance of desire. Indeed, the wind from his wings caresses the topmost 
niche of stone as his azure body speeds past, a brief touch of farewell as 
he seeks to exchange the one dance partner for another: Lysseth. She is 
his chosen partner, she the lady he longs to press to his arching breast 
in a sensuous tango to drive the nearby Holders mad.

Dragon> Flight sense that Adonith sighs again. I HATE losing a pose and 
having to try to recreate it.

Lysseth> Lysseth pulls what may be an unexpected rabbit out of her 
proverbial hat this time. Not only does she not dive once she reaches the 
ultimate height, but she *turns* in the air--flying upside-down for a 
brief instant, skimming back past those pursuers who are not already 
following her lead to the star-spangled heavens. After she achieves a 
sufficient distance of back-tracking along her own trail, she flips back 
over... and does not, yet, dive, despite every caution she ever learned 
screaming that she *must*. She strains her wings instead to fly farther, 
faster, higher than any other dragon would dare to go, as the air grows 
thin and the cloud cover heavy. Except for the glow of unmistakable green, 
she could almost lose herself amongst the opaque grey labyrinth that 
unleashes its ice-crystals down on the grounds below.

The pattern of M'rgan's movements would be familiar to the others in the 
room as he's done it all before. If any of them weren't lost in the ebb 
and flow of the flight, that is. He rocks forward on the balls of his 
feet, arching towards the sky. But then he crashes back down on his heels 
as Ularrith changes direction. His breath grows heavier and more harsh, 
as if he was the one doing all of the work.

Lysseth> Nicoth warbles in confused concern as the green flies higher and 
higher til she is all but lost from sight. That she would stay up amoung 
the clouds, trying to catch the moons, does not occur to him. He jockeys 
for position just at the height of the bowl's rim and waits, staying 
beneath her and hoarding his strength for her return. For she must 
return!

Lysseth> Dulath rises even higher than he was before, using his inner 
strength to keep up with the faster, more agile green. Though she may have 
the cover of the clouds, and they do serve her well as a shroud of misty 
satin, he is so focused on her presense that she could hide behind the 
largest mountain on Pern and he would know exactly where she is. Every 
forward, every racing through the air, Dulath pursues the gloriously 
resourseful Lysseth like a canine on the scent.

Kassima steps a finger's-breadth away from the wall and clasps her hands 
behind her back, pacing back and forth a small distance in front of her 
chosen space. Her steel-shod boot-heels ring against the stone of the 
floor, and her cape swirls behind her almost like the wings of the dragons 
above. Every now and again, she'll turn her head to regard a particular 
rider inscrutably for a moment with an unreadable expression. This 
continues until she has done so with each rider present, at which point 
she returns to simply standing with affected nonchalance whose falsity is 
given away by the burning intensity of the fire behind those dark emerald 
eyes.

Lysseth> From the South, The sound of wind, the snap and creak of tendon 
and sinew over bone are the the only harbinger of Prometh's massive 
presence. Pushing himself through the leaden air, violet eyes afire with 
the flaming green's signal as she rises above teh clouds, nearer to him. 
Snap, creak! He moves closer to her, if possible, trying to gain by 
stealth and guile what he may not gain otherwise.

T'lar squeezes his eyes and fists tightly shut. "Patience, patience," he 
mutters only loud enough for those near to hear. "She will be back. She 
must come back." The clicking of boot heels causes him to snap open his 
eyes and look directly into the searing gaze of the pacing greenrider. He 
manages to hold her eyes, letting her be the one to look away. The sweat 
on his brow shows how truly difficult this was.

C'vadan sigh and rises, his muscles too tense to continue sitting like 
that. He eyes Kassima still, hearing his own heartbeat throbbing in his 
neck. "Come on, Duly. You can do it. You can!"

Lysseth> Ularrith continues to rise, to soar, to travel to heights where 
even the shrubberies won't grow, no matter how well tended. Just for an 
instant, the clouds above him part, washing his brown flesh with the pale 
moonlight and allowing him to see Lysseth in all of her perfection. It's a 
sign. It must be a sign! As his trumpet of triumph begins to reverberate, 
sounding out his joy and welcome, the clouds crash closed again, 
splattering him with snow and ice, like spittle from unfeeling gods. This 
he ignores, preferring to continue to believe in the original sign, though 
he does quiet down.

K'tyn chews on his lower lip, unconsciously worrying. Eyes gleaming, he 
follows Kassima as she paces, a peculiar dread wrestling with a sure 
excitement coiling inside him.

Lysseth> Mayhaps Lysseth becomes one with the labyrinth, but hers is a 
mystique, a puzzle, that Adonith has studied and conquered before. She 
wishes to hide...he will play detective and sniff her out. Seizing upon 
cloudy equivalent of footprints -- the contrails streaming off of 
Lysseth's wings -- Adonith flies higher still, faster yet, stretching his 
body and his limits to dismiss the distance between his quarry and 
himself. He is a tireless pursuer and intends to imprison her. In, of 
course, the sanctity and safety of his wings.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Okay, You guys wear yourselves out 
flying high and chasing her like that. I wait for that dive and be here to 
catch her. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Dulath wishes Nicoth luck :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh has been flying abover her all along, 
Nicoth. :)

Alyssa lifts her head to look at Kassima, dry-mouthed, her amethyst eyes 
smudged dark with growing desire. Her love for the greenrider, a sororal 
affection, changes its tune and grows intense and intent.

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << As have I. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Nicoth's typist pulls out the dictionary for 
that one, Lys.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << What, sororal? >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Yeah, took me a minute. >>

Lysseth> Lysseth's nerves and muscles scream with the effort required to 
keep her here, above the heights any dragon is supposed to be able to fly 
safely. What care has she for safety? For now, in flight, she turns from 
herself to become much more like her rider: reckless and feckless, but 
still with the green's strong underlying sense of caution. It is that 
sense which steps in once she feels her wings beginning to tire to the 
point that she is in danger of falling. So, ironically, she falls. But not 
at any controlled speed, no--she *plummets*, like a rock thrown from 
above, shearing the sky and leaving it raw and bleeding in her 
considerable wake. The only control at all displayed in this simple and 
death-defying motion is that she refuses to come too close to any male, 
relying on twists and turns of trademark green dexterity to carry her 
through uncaught, unfettered, and--most importantly--unconquered!

Lysseth> Dulath sighs as Lysseth plummets past him. Why do they always do 
that. He turns downwards to continue pursuit, folding his wings close to 
his body to reduce wind resistance. But unlike the agile green, he has to 
brake much earlier... or he would break against the stones below. Still, 
all in all, he manages to not lose much ground... er, air... behind her. 
Surely she must be tiring now. Not that he is. Nopenope. Fit as a fiddle 
and ready for looooove.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth hrms and looks at her watch (yes, she 
found a watch big enough to fit on a dragon-sized wrist). << I suspect 
I've been dragging this on long enough, and I don't want to go on so long 
that folk start to get bored. :) So, what say we do capture poses right 
after my next pose? >>

Lysseth> The raw plummet of the green brings an anguished bugle from 
Nicoth's throat. Pure adrenalin courses through his body, giving it 
strength and agility he has not before exhibited. Avoiding a true 
collision, he uses every inch of wingsail and every fiber of muscle to 
remain beneath her. A net set to catch her tiring body and bear it up 
with in love and devotion.

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh watches the green fall. To be expected, 
that was. Snap, creak! He pulls his wings tightly in, arrowing after her, 
though not precisely in her exact path.Lengths lower in the sky, he flares 
his wings outward, cupping the wind in them as a lover cups the cheek of 
his beloved--close, tenderly, and gently--as he speeds after her, still 
above her, still behind her.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Sounds good to me. Want us to pose 
location in relation to you? >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << I didn't mean it that way in my 
last pose, Lysseth. Well, not really :) >>

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << If you can work it in, that would 
be good; if not, c'est la vie. :) >>

Dragon> Prometh bespoke Flight with << sounds fine with me.:) >>

Lysseth> Adonith is an addict to speed. Speed is at times as provocative a 
companion as a glowing green, and this invitation to join Lysseth in her 
dive, a thumbing of the nose at Death, is alluring to the nth degree. In 
go his wings, flat against his sides, outstretched become his limbs to 
diminish wind resistance, and downward flies Adonith at speeds that could 
make a shooting star cringe. He is her shadow, her purplish blue echo in 
the fog-enshrouded eve; like her own shadow Lysseth cannot shake him loose 
or lose him. The ground rises up alarmingly before him, his own shadow 
growing larger by the second, yet he worries not. He knows the bowl, he 
knows her. When she flattens her descent, so will he, perfect shadow that 
he is.

Lysseth> Now it's Ularrith's turn to cry out to Lysseth from on-high as 
she turns and runs away from him. He springs after her like he was 
launched from a catapult, soaring though the air, plunging after her 
racing form. He's a dark shadow growing and growing over her, blocking 
out the moonlight and starlight.

Lysseth> Lysseth again does something unexpected by those who have flown 
the skies with her before; she doesn't spread her wings to buzz the 
ground, but instead veers about a dragonlength above to slow her descent. 
Dangerous, and daring--but the result is apparently one she finds 
worthwhile. She touches the ground with one hindleg just long enough to 
use that leverage to spring herself up again, somehow managing to do this 
without looking like a giant green kangaroo. Up, up, and away she goes--
run away! Run away! her instincts cry to her, fueling her now-laborously 
beating wings with the last of her strength and stamina. But the life 
forces of only two creatures are not up to keeping her at the performance 
level she has been at, nor for allowing her more tricks. And that last one 
cost her; it can be told by the dimming of her hide, and by the strain of 
her movements to keep her aloft. With effort and sheer, 100% obstinance, 
she forces herself back up to the skies, roaring in futile anger at her 
own weakness as she spreads her wings to ride a thermal for whatever 
distance away it will take her. Not enough, still not enough... but there 
is that about this green that will not be caught, nor captured, nor beaten 
without every fight it is within her power to give.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Last chance to escape! Page Kassi 
if, for whatever reason, you don't want to risk actually catching this 
lunatic green. ;) Before the last round of poses (and the Decision from 
Hell, pardon my French), I'd just like to say that you've all been 
unbelievably spectacular tonight. :) >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << Not as wonderful as our 
hostess. ;) >>

Lysseth> Dulath urges himself forward, wanting to be the yang to Lysseth's 
yin. The bass to her treble. The key to her lock. The tinker to her toy. 
The all too excessive user of misfit metaphors in the great chase of love. 
He is ready, willing, and able to be her guiding light in the darkness of 
their love. No, wait. That's not what he meant. He wings ever forward, 
hoping that Lysseth is too enthralled to notice anything that was done 
before. His tail reaches down towards hers, heedless to any other dragon 
jockeying into position.

Kassima's teeth actually bite through her lip with a sudden gasp as she 
senses her lifemate's weariness, blood welling up for a moment before she 
reaches up to absently wipe it away. She steps back again, one step, two--
and there's that wall again, shard it.

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << Hear! Hear! Brother! Thank you, 
Lysseth :) >>

Lysseth> Nicoth slips aside as the suicidal green streaks past to 
seemingly bounce off the bowl floor. A cooler column of air steals some of 
his altitude and sliding him away from the wall. His massive wingspan 
blocks the path of a diving blue putting it out of the chase so close to 
the end. The bronze heaves himself closer to the green as she tries to 
regain height and freedom. Turning on his side, he extends his talons, 
tail, and neck to entangle her from the right side.

C'vadan focuses his attention on Kassima. Though the distance may be great 
between them, it is like they were a whisper away. He has unconsciously 
shrugged off his jacket from the heat.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth dragon-grins and just thanks you all 
for putting up with her Unholy Amounts of Spam <tm>. I'm afraid I blather 
on a bit when I get caught up in things. :P :)

Lysseth> From the South, Prometh nearly squawks as, from his limited 
perspective, Lysseth nearly plunges to the earth. Eeking every last bit 
of strength and manueverability he strives to catch her...and though he 
fails, as he watches her leap again into the sky with an agility and 
strength that should be somehow surprising...and isn't, for this is 
Lysseth that leaps before him. Admiration blossoms in his mighty chest 
for this green, for her stubborn will to be free. She is so worthy of 
being a mate. Being his mate... Will she not see that his strength is 
there, for her...his support is hers, and his undying adoration of her 
will and her fight for her freedom.

T'lar leans forward, his eyes fixed on Kassima with an intensity that 
would embarrass him anywhere but here and now. A wicked grin shows his 
lifemate's confidence in his own cleverness. "Now."

Dragon> Prometh bespoke Flight with << Excellent flight! Yes! I just wish 
my connection was better. I know I missed some of it. >>

Lysseth> Ularrith nearly catches his wing on the bronze falling next to 
him as both veer to follow Lysseth's flight. But by arching his wings even 
higher, he's able to recover...and more importantly, recover above her. 
For though he is willing to risk much...to cross trecherous areas...to 
brave lisping taunts...to fight beasts with many eyes...to battle his own 
father in a duel to (whoops, wrong movie)...he'd rather not splat himself 
into the ground. It would probably slow him down to much to catch her 
after all. Instead, the brown dragon skims down towards her, talons 
extended for the capture.

Lysseth> Adonith is of course dragon tailgaiting Lysseth in singleminded 
intent to have a rear-end collision (albeit a controlled and enjoyable 
one). Consequently Lysseth's spring-like acrobatics leave him sparse room 
and time in which to react and force him to brake before he becomes so 
much splatter on Salless' clean Bowl floor. Brake he does, skimming the 
ground until a dust cloud uplifts to mingle with the fog. In point of fact 
it's a spectacular save, a testamony of aerial adroitness. But it also 
leaves him buzzing the ground rather than arching upward in Lysseth's 
path. Shadow has indeed been shaken loose and finds its purplish blue rump 
too, too close to landing. So land he does, accompanied by a bellow of 
absolute blind fury.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  As always, it's the flight that is 
the most fun. The competition and the writing and the fun on this 
channel. >>

K'tyn raises an arm, toward the greenrider, anguish and need flaring in 
his eyes. "Ah, Kassi," he mumbles, "See me. Let me help."

Alyssa is on her feet in a heartbeat, crying out in tandem with her 
dragon. She lifts the hem of her chemise and hurries out to comfort both 
her lifemate and herself.

Alyssa leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth racks her brains to try and come up 
with a verdict. Since I don't like to use chance, this might take a bit 
of a pause--not *too* long, though, I promise. :) Thank you all again--
you've been terrific! :)

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Thanks, Lysseth. We'll wait. >>

M'rgan's eyes appear sunken, his cheeks sallow as he sucks in a breath. 
Holding it. Holding it. His heart pounds in his skull, a lustful beat that 
demands a response, though he can only wait and hope and dream.

Lysseth> Adonith flies downward towards the north end of the bowl.

C'vadan blinks as Alyssa's movement catches his eyes. But all he is 
thinking about now is Kassima. Well, and his lifemate hanging in the air 
awaiting his fate.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith had a great time, Lysseth. I'm glad 
that you're log crazy cause this is another flight whose poses I'll want 
to study.

Dragon> Prometh bespoke Flight with << THis was awesome! Each of you, my 
fellows, made me wish I were better.:) And that is how it should be. :) >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << You are ALL wonderful. Honestly. 
This was a terrific flight. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Dulath has to agree. I had fun :)

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  It is true that I learn something 
new about posing every time. Thanks guys. Don't forget, she drank Benden 
Water before the flight. This could be interesting.... >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << Now, how did *that* happen? ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth's typist takes a second away from 
deciding and typing up a pose to whack Nicoth's typist for that. She 
didn't *mean* to! ;)

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  I didn't say you did. You were 
tricked. My rider saw. But you did drink it. >>

Benden Weyr> R'val peers at Boba Elle, and then at the flight :)

Benden Weyr> T'lar says, "We're suspended in midair as Lysseth makes up 
her mind. ;)"

Benden Weyr> C'vadan says, "I think drinking the water has addled 
Kassi ;)"

Benden Weyr> Sisirye stand in the bowl, eagerly awaiting the outcome of 
the flight here. :) Lookit all the dragons frozen in mid-air. Cool.

Lysseth> Lysseth gets something of a surprise as her wings stall in 
midair, absolutely refusing to carry her any farther. They've had enough 
of this rough treatment, and are *not* going to stand for any more. What 
a moment for *that* to happen! This does not make for a happy green, 
needless to say, though it might make for a happy pursuer... well, only 
Nicoth can answer that question, as a stray gust of wind catches the 
long-hovering green and throws her right within reach of his wings. 
Curses! Foiled again!

Benden Weyr> Sionelle says, "Like a freeze-frame at the end of CHiPs."

Lysseth> Dulath flies downward towards the north end of the bowl.

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "No, Cav, I *always* take this long about 
deciding. Ask the poor souls who were at my first flight. :P :)"

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Flight with << I see this as tit for tat. I flew 
Juliath, Nicoth catches Lysseth. GREAT flight, all. >>

C'vadan leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

K'tyn drops his hand, his head, and leaves abruptly.

K'tyn leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Lysseth> Nicoth wraps himself around the green as a fortuitous wind 
carries her to him. Holding them both in the night air, he croons to her 
as they glide above the ground.

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Yes, but will Meli speak to my 
rider in the morning. >>

Lysseth> Ularrith is already so close to the ground that it's a simple 
matter for him to backwing and land on the ground. Simple except for the 
screech of anguish that erupts from him as Lysseth is stolen away.

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

Benden Weyr> Sisirye heys at Cav! Though it sounds kinda muffled from 
under the huge snowball Dulath dropped on her. :P :)

T'lar ignores the departing riders and moves to embrace the greenrider as 
his bronze embraces her dragon.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth whews and rubs her head, where a few 
brain cells have short-circuited in the brain-frying decision-making. Not 
that she has any use for sense, or a mind. ;) << *Thank* you, everyone! 
I'm sorry about the overly-long freeze-frame, but it's your own darned 
faults for being so sharding good. :P :) *Dragonsnugs.* Gestena d'hon, 
dester'edren. :) >>

Benden Weyr> R'val says, "Run Sisi, lest a dragon fall upon ye. :)"

M'rgan starts to alertness and plunges out of the weyr.

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

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << Thanks, Lysseth! It was a lot of 
fun :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh nods.:) Anytime, Lysseth. :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth chuckles. << This was a great 
anniversary flight--it was April 11 of last year that a surprised Kassi 
got taken into a Wing as a full rider, you see, which is why I chose this 
date. I can't thank y'all enough for making a special flight also a 
spectacular one. :) (Do I sound enough like a Hallmark card yet?) >>

Dragon> Nicoth bespoke Flight with <<  Happy Anniversary! >>

Dragon> Dulath bespoke Flight with << Cheers, Lysseth :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith congratulates Kassi. << Happy 
Anniversary.>>