Sylvan Weyr

[Carni]

It had been a pleasant day in spring, warm but not too hot thanks to a fresh breeze blowing in from the ocean. Two sevendays or more had passed ever since the very first Threadfall and the Crimsons arrival, one sevenday since the weird flitters had emerged from their Eggs. A normal day for Sylvan, so normal one could almost forget there was no Queen anymore, no hope to keep the Weyr alive. But there had been some odd tension in the air all day, as if the dragons were expecting something to happen. And when the red star rose above the horizon, opening his dark red eye, something did happen...


Dafnierth had been laying in front of their rider-hut all day, soaking up every sunray she could catch with her red skin while she slept the day away. Theresa had been walking up and down in their room, filled with unease while she tried to concentrate on something useful. She had taken over some of the Weyrwomans duties, being allowed to do keep at least the records up to date but facing distrust whenever she tried to do more. Most people were trying to be friendly and Theresa knew she herself wasn't making anything easier, but her dragon was a mutation and she fed her firestone and no one would ever forget she could have taken over the role of a queen, had Theresa not decided to make her breath flames. Some individuals had even blamed her to be responsible for their lack of clutching dragons. Theresa did not care. She was just unhappy with the situation as a whole, rilled up for reasons she did not quite understand. Something was off... and she had yet to discover what it was.

Just when the red star showed up above the horizon, Dafnierth opened one eye, watching Theresa when the woman stalked past her, acting like a trapped tiger. Dafnierth second eye opened when she silently rose from her place in the hot sand, sailing towards the beastpens on a warm thermal without beating her wings often.

Theresa blinked in confusion when she came past the door the next time, staring at the empty space. "...Dafnierth...?", she asked when the first scream came from the corrals.

Seemingly out of nowhere, without any prior warning, the Crimson had landed just on top of a large Herdbeast, taking it down with her weight while it screamed in confusion and pain. Her tail twitched while she watched her prey, indecisively flexing her claws. For a moment it looked as if she did not know what to do now, almost letting go of her catch. But when the herdbeast wriggled free from underneath her, she bit down with a slight growl, dragging it back while she sucked up the blood.

Theresa stood frozen across the bowl in the doorframe to her hut, staring towards her dragon that was about to outshine the red star, glowing in the beginning sunset. A rational part of her mind understood what was going on here, realised that her dragon was about to rise, blooding her kill, but the rest of her simply felt dizzy and shaken. She was unable to tell her Crimson to blood only, keeping her from getting too heavy but aparently Dafnierth did not need her assistance at this point.

The bloodless carcass fell from the Crimsons claws with a thud, laying lifeless to her feet while she licked her lips, her red snout glistening wet with a liquid that was the color of her hide. Her purple eyes narrowed when she caught sight of another herdbeast, pouncing with a loud roar. It wouldn't take long until her bloodlust was sated, fueling her with the power she needed to rise high above the Weyr to sate a much different lust. She did not question herself, did not worry that her color might scare some males away. They were all the same, in the end they would all be chasing her, following her up into the sky.

Theresa stumbled back into her hut, wishing she had a door she could lock between her and the males that would come. She knew they would and a group of needy men was the last she wanted to deal with. But there was no door to lock, no place to run. With a shiver, she sat down on her bed, wrapping her arms around herself while the first wave of feelings washed over her, leaving her caught helpless in a lust that was not her own.

---

She is blooding her kill., Arreleth said, peering over to the beastpens. A'der looked up from the scroll he had been reading in the shadow of a large tree, looking into the same direction. "Who?", he asked, thinking it was one of the Greens getting ready to rise. The Crimson. She is blooding her kill., the bronze said while A'der froze. He had known this day would come but he had somehow hoped it would not be so soon. "Are you... ...going to chase?", he carefully asked his bronze, slowly putting down the scroll. I ate two herdbeasts earlier this day. I'm too heavy to chase anything., the bronze said with a yawn, rolling over onto his other side. A'der let go of a breath he could not remember he had taken, standing up to rub the eyeridges of his dragon. Somehow he was very glad that his dragon would not chase the odd female. He did not know what this day would bring and he was relieved he would not be involved in this whole mess, that he would be able to hold a neutral position even after this flight was over.

He knew there would be riders mad at Theresa for allowing her 'freak' to rise, probably those whose males lost the flight and there would certainly one who would not know whether he should be happy or not. The winner of the flight. A'der was glad he would not have to figure anything out but maybe he should already inform the healers... just in case something bad happened... you never knew... The Crimson was certainly large enough to make some males strain their wings. With a last pat on Arreleth' nose, A'der left the shadow of his tree, heading towards the large building that held the Infirmary. Habit, the Weyrhealer would hopefully be there. He felt like he needed some assistance today and the healer was well respected for doing her job.

---

You may enter any male you want to, included NPCs. Blues are a little less likely to win, but they do have a fair chance.
This is not a Weyrleader-flight, your character will not become Weyrleader because his dragon catches Dafnierth since Theresa is not and will never be Weyrwoman.
The winner will most likely be randomized out of the top three most fitting/active/creative.
Have fun, we shall have a clutch after this flight!

---

[obeah]

Habit pulled the needlethorn away from her patient's skin at the first sound of herdbeast screams, afraid that she or he both would flinch. Typically it was an isolated event, the screaming, and then the eating, so Habit was surprised when a roar shook the Bowl and another herdbeast's scream echoed, a bit quieter than the first. Her suspicions aroused, the perceptive Weyrhealer looked around. Aniqa was conspicuously not around. Admittedly it was her day off, but R'lein, a journeyman dragonhealer, was also nowhere to be found. No wait... that was his form receding into the shade of the trees near the rider's huts.

She gave her patient what she hoped was an apologetic face, resumed the injection, then hurriedly cleaned the site and walked toward the lip of the roof, looking up and out. "They're over there now, I think," Habit's injection patient suggested helpfully, having seen several dragon shadows on the trees that Habit's back would have been turned to. She nodded to him, then crossed to the other side of the large hut, going out the pavilion side that most people respected as the main "doors" to the healers.

By the time A'der would have gotten to the main infirmary entrance, he would have been able to see a slim, dark form looking up past the edge of the sloping infirmary roof. Arms akimbo, she had a thoughtful expression on her face that was a bit gentler than her angular, almost angry posture. "Weyrleader," she greeted him, eyes on the sky for a moment before turning to his face and giving him a respectful nod. She raised her eyebrows, mouth softening a bit. "What can I do for you?"

[Carni]

A'der took one long look back to his dragon before he entered the Infirmary grounds, more hesistant than usuall. He hated the Infirmary. He knew it was needed and that everyone was glad they had this building... ...but to be honest, all he remembered of these rooms were injuries or injured friends. Blood and burns and infections... He shuddered upon these thoughts, straightening his shoulders while he continued his walk towards what one would call the main entry to a building that did not even have walls on all four sides.

Habit was hard to miss, especially if you dared to look down below her knee - something A'der knew to avoid, and aparently she had already noticed the flight, judging by where she looked. "Weyrhealer", he answered her greeting with a slight smile, bowing his head before his gaze went up to where she had been looking for a second. His attention returned quickly but with a frown this time, darkening his face: "I hope nothing... but as you can hear a dragon decided to rise. It's not one of our Greens. It is the Crimson.", he somehow pronounced it in a way that implied he already expected trouble from that fact alone. "I hope there will only be a few strained wings... but I want you to be prepared.", he told her, hoping that she would understand and not feel insulted. He did not come to tell her how to do her job - he had enough to do with his own - but he certainly expected Theresa to cause trouble. And who knew how many instincts were affected by a mutation that could turn a dragon red? Maybe the crimson even turned against her chasers? He hoped not but better safe than sorry...

[obeah]

R'lein had been just about to start his dinner, hidden behind the curtain that cordoned off the healers' private area from patient bedsides. He was ready to leave the Infirmary. It wasn't that he was lazy, it was just that he wasn't particularly good with the human component of the pairs he had to heal, and he would prefer it if he only ever had to talk to dragons, judgmental as he was. Shells, he would probably prefer being a dragon. He put his booted feet up on the table in front of him, leaning back in his chair with a bowl of stew. Orysth, too, was enjoying a meal... although in his case, the dragon took a rather sadistic interest in terrifying herdbeasts. After chasing them with a draconic grin for what felt to R'lein like a full Turn, the dragon finally landed on one, snapping its neck and bearing down for a first bite.

R'lein had been just about to comment mentally to Orysth, something involving 'first do no harm' and a chuckle or two, when something caused both rider and dragon to pause. Orysth spat out the mouthful of meat, his third or fourth, and stared at Dafnierth, eyes suddenly whirling with passion and lust.

She flies, R'lein, he rumbled, stretching his wings slightly to defend his kill and the Crimson before him before other male dragons swooped in. The pretty red one.

R'lein, too, had to spit out what was in his mouth in surprise: namely, a deep quaff of klah, which spattered his boots as he leapt to his feet. Not even bothering to tell Habit--stupid girl was always preening about how perceptive she was anyway, perceptive my Shell, I mean, she couldn't even see that accident coming--he darted from the Infirmary, jogging toward the Rider Huts. Which one was hers again?

Orysth crouched over his kill as he lapped at the herdbeast's blood, crooning to himself as he watched the crimson beauty of the Weyr launch herself from the ground challenging anyone who dared to follow. His reply to her rumbled within his chest, then exploded outward in a fierce, powerful bellow. Gathering himself, he pushed off the ground with his muscular legs, wings beating the air, buffeting those below with wind, with sound. Orysth knew he was rather stockier than Dafnierth, and for that matter, most of the Weyr. He had stamina, but he would need more maneuverability than he had ever shown before. But shells, to have a dragon like Dafnierth, he was sharding well going to try.

{So R'lein is quite handsome--shoulder-length black hair, olive skin, generally quite fit, but he makes snap judgments and holds wicked grudges about anything that doesn't have wings. Strangely enough, he hasn't yet formed one about Theresa, probably because they haven't met outside Fall yet.}

---

Habit nodded, moistening her lips as he spoke the word "Crimson". There was a slight hesitancy in his tone, but it seemed a bit more equitable than some of the things she'd heard regarding Theresa and her bonded in the past while. There was more concern for his Weyr involved than disdain for Theresa, or at least Habit hoped that she had assumed correctly in that regard. She didn't know the crimsonrider well at all, having only met each other in passing, but she was always rather shocked that the rest of the Weyr didn't take as even and calm a perspective on Dafnierth as she herself did. Then again, Habit had always been a slight optimist, even if just in the 'wait and see, this world isn't a bad one' regard.

"I understand," she nodded, watching as more shadows added themselves to the frenzy that was overtaking the Feeding Grounds. Having no dragon was a rather large nuisance in this particular situation, but Habit only let herself dwell on her inability to become a candidate for a fraction of a second. Even that brief lapse sent blood rushing to her ears and cheeks. Luckily for her, A'der wouldn't be able to see it. "Actually, Weyrleader, there's something you could help me with." She indicated the ongoing flight with her chin. "My dragonhealers of sufficient skill all ride. R'lein's already participating, and I haven't seen Aniqa recently either. I'd be more likely to call on one of them than a greenrider, because I don't want to incite more danger." Who knew whether Dafnierth would get madly jealous of a fellow female in the nearby area, like queens were wont to do? If she did, it was possible her masculine nature--she was a flaming dragon, after all--would prompt worse things to come.

"Arreleth's not partaking, I take it," she noted, "but if you've got other things to do, any dragon would do, the larger the better. I just need someone who can stand by with me to mentally hold them still if things--Faranth forbid--really get touchy. Strained wings the rider will probably be able to handle on his or her own, but..." He would know how it was, and possibly the extent of injuries she was planning for in a worst-case scenario. After all, he had been through a Threadfall or two himself, and probably witnessed other dragonhealing, even if the Infirmary did seem to make him rather anxious. "Would it be a trouble?" she asked. She could always find someone else if A'der had something to do, or was too uncomfortable.

[Morgan]

“Gareth, you should see this.” G’wain prodded his bronze urgently. Gareth, like Dafnierth, had been dozing in the sun. The bronze, however, was in no mood to stir himself. Instead, he just laid there and took the prods. His eyes only opened when he heard the wing beats, and when he heard the screaming he jumped to his feet.

Aha! You should have mentioned that a green was Rising, Mine. Thank you for waking me. I will, of course, be chasing her. Gareth readied himself to spring into the sky, but G’wain put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t just a green,” he said, placing special emphasis on his words. “It’s Dafnierth. And if you win…” his words drifted off. Gareth naturally knew what would have come next. If you win, I get Theresa.

I won’t let you down, Mine! Gareth said staunchly. He took to the air and G’wain set off to Theresa’s weyr. The greenriders were all right (Gareth had a thing for the chase, after all) but Theresa was… different. She played hard-to-get, and it intrigued him. That, and her dragon was that brilliant crimson color. But Theresa… those eyes, and that hair, and…

Lust was clouding his thoughts now. The Chase had begun and he was outside of Theresa’s door.

Up in the sky, Gareth had begun darting and twisting, antics that impressed the average green. It would take more to impress Dafnierth though. She was much smarter and he knew it.

Dafnierth, why do you flee from me, your Gareth? No one is more desirable, and the red star doesn’t outshine your brightness. Come back, and I shall bask in your beauteous glory.

[akusma]

She rises. Treveth sighed, sadly watching the form of the Crimson dragon land on her first kill. Her hide was beginning to shine, that that of a Queen, but more stunning then a Gold. GOlds were cold, and this glow was as warm as the Red Star. With the sunsetting she shined brighter, the orange glow adding more to her hide then daylight. He moved, neck stretching out in any attempt to get closer to her. But he stayed put, watching her land upon her second kill. His eyes swirled, a hint of red mixing in with the prominant yellow, no blue or green in sight as he stayed where he was, ledge hard under his claws as they scraped across rock.

He wanted to chase. Every bone in his body, all wrapped up in his strange brown hide wanted to chase. He should fly, up and towards her, find her, win her, or at least try. The trurth was, he was scared to. Dafnierth was not a colour that everyone knew of, she was mysterious, special. He was not. He was Brown as well, while there was no Gold alive, Golds were normally caught by Bronze. He would never place Crimson Dafnierth alongside the Greens of the Weyr; that was not to say that the Greens were not pretty themselves. But Dafnierth was something different, her red hide as dangerous as the Red Star. It pulled and tugged at him; one of the main reasons he'd stayed away, not just because he did not know what title to call her by.

Arreleth was not chasing, the dragon of the Weyrleader either did not want to, had been forced not to, or was too full to. Treveth himself hadn't eaten for a good few hours, hoping to avoid the more...hyper of the Weyrs dragons, who would chase after their kills. Orysth was in the skies already, above the Cromson-Star and trying as hard as he could to impress. A Bronze - Gareth - followed soon after, his wings hitting the air to carry him ahead. Treveth heard the words, heard their eloquence and shivered as he fough the urge to try and be better. He couldn't chase! He was fall far short of what she deserved. With a low keen his will power failed him.

O'ler sighed, hands pulling at his hair as he watched his brown fall atop a 'beast, maw taking most of it's middle into his mouth, blooding only. Meat would make him too heavy. The rider didn't mind, he'd been in a few flights, and Theresa was little more then another person to him. He would treat her with the exact same caution he treated everyone with. He slowly stepped towards her hut, pausing every now and then to look at the other two males moving towards her. He dind't really mind them, but more then two would be a crowd. He stepped towards the door, hands finding their way to his pockets. O'ler wasn't going to try and woo her, shards no, he wasn't the type. He simply stood there, next to G'wain, with a slight scowl on his face. He wasn't going to ruin his dragons chase, but he didn't like it.

Crimson-Star, Dafnierth, let me chase. I am not Bronze, not a colour worthy of your attention, but please: may I chase? Trevath cooed, head bowed as he licked blood off his maw, teeth flashing. He wanted to chase her, but if she did not want him to them he woudln't. He lumbered after another beast, claws rippping through hide and flesh before meeting bone. The scream of the herdbeast wasn't really heard by him, eyes flicking over to the Crimson-Star even as he sucked the carcass in front of him dry, red splashing his chest and legs, coating his maw; he was a messy eater.

[Carni]

((Uhm, sorry for the slight confusion - no, Daf had not left the ground yet but I shall simply weave your posts into mine if you are okay with that if not - just tell me and I shall change it accordingly.))

Dafnierth' eyes rolled up, following his movement when the first possible mate arrived. She sucked her second kill dry, peering for a third when she suddenly jumped from the ground, huge red wings unfolding for the first important wingbeat not far above the earth. She saw two other males, an artistic bronze above her and a second brown splattering his hide with red dots. Three males were more than enough to begin the chase. She was listening quietly to their words, to their calls, a draconic smile on her lips. She steered to one side, going into a barrel roll still dangerously close to the ground to avoid the bronze that called for her while she shot past him. She felt more than that she saw that one of the browns had left the ground too, following her with a powerful jump, his wings cutting through the air...

Catch me if you can..., she rumbled to the bronze, teasingly slowing down in her rise before she realised that among her males, one was missing. She remembered a second brown, blooding his kill to gain the strength to follow her. Her head swung around, finding only the other brown and the bronze in the air but catching sight of him not far below quickly. Prove your worth in the air not on the ground!, she hissed while diving down into his direction. Teeth bared, claws outstretched and wings tucked she seemed more like an eagle going for its prey than a female worth the chase. Her claws, however, did not even come close to his hide when she turned her dive into a rise, muscles tensing under her red skin when she turned her wings into the wind, throwing her body upwards seemingly effordlessly. The bronze was appealing, the other brown was strong... but this one had already been annoying. She would give him a chance but if he did not get himself together quickly, he was not worth her attention anymore. Either he got up and after her now, or she would just leave him behind.

She was wasting time so close to the ground, playing around with her males - especially with one as pitiful as this one - but somehow she did not care. She knew she could outfly all but the largest among them, simply draining their power by staying aloft longer than they would be able to. She felt safe, for now, turning her rise into another dive, this time heading for the other two males. Would they dare to stay in her way while she fell like a stone? She was wondering whether they would risk crashing into her or be freightened and move out of her way. A test of fate, a test of will and she wondered if she would loose it...




Theresa almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the first, soft footsteps in front of her door and for a moment, fear was all she felt. Three, she counted from her dragons mind before the lust begun to take her thoughts away again. With her fear fading away she sat down at the rim of her bed, head turned towards the door. Cold, she thought, cold as ice..., before another rush of feelings came, sending a shiver down her spine. She felt torn, confused, upon the sight of the males, arriving one by one. Part of her wanted to throw them out, yell and scream until they were gone, hiding in fear from her wrath but another part tried to yerk her body up from where she sat, cover the handsome face she saw in kisses and rip his shirt apart until she could feel his skin on hers... No!, she pushed her thoughts away with brute force, staying where she was, sitting on her bed. She turned her face into the only safe expression she knew - empty and cold. It seemed as if nothing could touch her, as if it did not matter what happened outside, as if she was completely untouched by her dragons rise, oblivious to the turmoil inside her. Her cold, blue eyes moved from one male to the other, seizing them up without showing whether she liked what she saw or not.
It seemed as if she would let them stand in the doorframe, not saying a word or showing any other sign of affection, turning the long wait into a torture...

---

A'der turned his head slightly to one side while he was listening to Habits words. He was too much a male, too caught in his own world to notice any hint of her invisible blushing, not even putting any thought into a slight hesitation she might have done. Instead, he soley focused on the topic at hand, the frown on his face deepening even further when she mentioned a point he had not yet noticed. He had not seen the Crimson as a Queen, rather thought of her like a Green but Habit spoke of something he had not seen. She was neither and Habit was probably right to prepare for the worst, considering that Dafnierth shared the same agression with a Queen... ...but extending it towards Greens. She was not a Queen but neither was she a Green... While Golds would simply ignore Greens the Crimson might not feel to do the same...

"He is not", he nodded, pointing towards the direction Arreleth was in. "I will stay here in case you need us, he might feel too heavy to chase but I am sure he will be up in a split second if something happens that requires his help.", he assured her. It was their duty as Weyrleaders after all, as temporary as this position might seem. Until a gold rose above the Weyr, he would hold this position and was responsible for its well-being. Hence the fact he tried to avoid being at the Infirmary at all costs. There was no way around it today. He turned around and away from Habit when he heard the Crimsons hiss, watching her dive for a brown below her like a nightmare come truth. He tensed without realising it, holding his breath until the female turned upwards again without hurting anything but the browns feelings. "I hope this flight is done quickly...", he muttered, more to himself than Habit, relaxing a little until the next maneuver came, more fitting for a Green than a dragon of her size.

[Hooxeii]

Bronze Holmth chasing Crimson Dafnierth:


Trees look unusual from the top. commented the bronze, inspecting the forest he and his rider lived in. Like big green stones.

He and S'lock had been out on a jaunt, enjoying the beautiful weather. And how lovely it was! The sunlight shone brightly--but not too brightly--and the air was just warm enough. There was even a small breeze that caressed the undersides of the dragon's wings and felt nice. Holmth let out a rumble of contentment. On days like these, it was good to be a dragon!

Reading his lifemate's happiness, S'lock stroked his bronze's neck with his right hand. This brought an even deeper rumble of pleasure into his partner's throat.
"You're getting to be a great firelizard, all this rumbling and chirruping over me petting you!" S'lock joked, resting both hands on his hips in an expression of mirth.

The bronze shot him a wily glance and snorted. ...and you are becoming quite the lady, always commenting about the lovely weather and how we should go out and appreciate it. He adopted a dainty posture in midair. Oh, Holmth, let us go and see the flowers! After, we might pick them and decorate my hair!

S'lock's laughter was raucous. "You great tease! I'm not nearly that bad!" He scratched his dragon's withers with enthusiasm. The bronze responded with an unusually throaty rumble. The note at the end of it trilled upwards, and S'lock wasn't sure he liked that tone...

Suddenly, to the east of them, a shining crimson arrow shot up into the air: Dafnierth! One could scarcely mistake her for any other dragon!

Holmth chirped in surprise and delight. She rises! The crimson rises! The bronze's eyes whirled red with sudden flight-lust. He shot towards the crimson female with a powerful thrust of his wings.

"HOLMTH! I'M STILL ON YOU!"

The bronze halted abruptly, a tad chagrined. He swooped down to the ground hurriedly. Get these straps off of me! I want to chase that female! He crooned, nudging his rider.

"I'm working on it!" S'lock replied, trying not to notice the growing tension in his own mind and body. "There," he said, throwing the riding gear on the ground, "...now have a good flight!" He slapped the dragon's foreflank affectionately, a big grin on his face.

He didn't need to tell Holmth twice. The bronze launched himself into the air, barreling towards the ruby-colored she-dragon.

Dafnierth! I come! He bugled as he approached.

[obeah]

R'lein finally reached Theresa's hut, one knee slightly more scuffed and dirty where he had stumbled when Orysth's wings jerked upward for the first time. Though most people around him would be too wrapped up in their own flightlust to notice, R'lein did seem somewhat concerned about the look on Theresa's face as he braced himself against the right post of her doorway. Then, however, Orysth snapped to the left again and R'lein found his humanity slipping out of his grasp like loose sand, snapped up in the raging animalistic lust his bonded was transmitting.

Orysth elongated his muscular body as much as he could, talons drawn up into fists, back legs tense. When Dafnierth dove toward Treveth, he remained above her, merely banking to follow her flight path, eyes narrow. He would need to have the energy to react without thinking in the challenge to come. Instinct and reflexes ought to drive him forward if he was going to win this flight, forces without the moment's delay of conscious thought. Unlike the others, crooning their captivation, Orysth's speech remained taciturn, a wide contrast to his typically loquacious air. He would speak with his wings, with his intent, and even with his voice before his mind would have a turn.

A second bugle rumbled up from his russet throat as Dafnierth reached the peak of her second rise. It rose in pitch as she turned, heading straight back for them. His eyes whirled faster, locked on Dafnierth's, but his course did not waver, not even as she screamed . Moments before they might have collided, he snap rolled to the right, twisting over one shoulder so that they would not crash, but narrowing the chances as best he could of losing any ground. Trilling softly, almost to himself, he beat his muscular wings and continued to chase.

---

"Thank you," the Weyrhealer told A'der sincerely. What few knots of tension had managed to squeeze their way in through Habit's measured calm unworked themselves, and she found herself caught up in the magic that was a real flight. Shells, had it been a long time since there was such a rush of emotions: hope, pride, a quiet but insistent empathic lust, worry, the begrudging feeling that only time could reveal all. The tumult, however, was entirely internal, and she watched three things at once: her Infirmary, her Weyrleader, and her private hopes, symbolized in the beat of crimson-red wings.

Wish it to be over quickly? I don't, Habit thought, eyebrows twitching a bit in amusement and adrenaline rush after the sudden horror of the crimson's first claw-raking dive turned out to be premature. Not if there's any chance this red dragon could clutch. Then I'd want it as long as we could get it, so long as there remained enough dragons to fight the Thread coming next sevenday. There was little chance she'd voice that particular sentiment, but she could definitely see where A'der had to be coming from. "I'd prefer safely, Weyrleader," she smiled gently up at the bronzrider, expression clearly one of agreement with him and a friendly gesture of banter, rather than any sort of challenge. Her eyes soon turned back to the sky, one hand balled into a fist around the fabric that made up the back of her tunic. She rocked gently back and forth from leg to leg a little, though whether it was from excitement or unease it would be hard to tell, possibly even for Habit herself.

[Morgan]

Catch me if you can...

This taunt alone drove Gareth onwards. That, and the realization that one of the browns was almost out for the count. He could, of course, outfly them all. He surged onwards, trailing herfrom underneath and watching, always watching. She was beautiful, the only female worthy of attention. She was the only female who would receive his attentions, for sure. Another bronze joined the chase, too now. That would make for an interesting go. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he would carry on.

Dafnierth was diving. Diving right to where he and the other brown. Gareth considered moving away, risking cowardice. That was not him, was it? He was, after all, a bronze, and bronzes aren’t cowards. But he still wasn’t too sure. He thought of His, then of beautiful Dafnierth, and his eyes flared brightly of purple and renewed purpose. He would win, or he would lose, but he would perform to win.

You make an artful display, fitting for one so beautiful and unique, but it seems rather foolish, does it not. Coming right towards me? Are you tired of playing games, Dafnierth?

Gaining elevation was harder than diving, but Gareth was making a valiant effort to do so, to intercept the female. He twisted around so that he was climbing at a steeper angle than advisable for Threadfighting, and kept going. He was going to try, not meekly get out of the way. Now it was up to Dafnierth and the other males. Belatedly he realized how hard it would be to change directions at this point.

---

G’wain was rather confused, and therefore hung back at the entrance to Theresa’s weyr. Why did she look so… emotionless? Theresa, he knew, was passionate about some things: Dafnierth, for example. They were there, probably locked away. He wondered idly whether this was Dafnierth’s maiden flight. She didn’t look that old. This would also explain why little was known about Dafnierth’s ability to clutch. G’wain hoped that for the Weyr’s sake she would. The queen was gone and the greens were useless in that respect.

[Hooxeii]

The lovely little crimson flickered in and out of Holmth's line of sight as she darted and dove through the sky. She had all the agility of a green, all the lustiness...but the ability to clutch was something she posessed that no mere green could ever claim to have.

And so Holmth was driven to chase her; driven by those instinctive, ancient forces that urged each and every male to leave his mark on this world through offspring. True, if a green had risen he might have also given chase, but the incentive to sire some hatchlings was interesting.

The bronze took stock of his competition: several other bronzes and a brown. Others may yet join. Still, he was not too concerned. He was not the swiftest dragon in the air but he wasn't the slowest either. This would be a long chase. He would test himself; his endurance as well as his speed.

He bugled a cheery good-luck to his fellow males. They'd not have her easy...not with him in the air!



Meanwhile, on the ground, S'lock was beginning to make his way towards the crimson dragon's rider. This was not his first ever mating flight; Holmth had caught a proddy green once, and he'd chased another. Consequently, he knew that he too would experience the thrills and pleasures of the mating.

The journey to find her was suprisingly short, since other men were making their way to her as well. She seemed a bit nervous, a bit uncertain. S'lock wondered privately if she'd ever been through a mating flight before, and he suddenly felt a pang of guilt for being there. It wasn't as though he was particularly interested in her as a lover, after all, but Holmth wanted to chase and he couldn't stop the dragon from doing so.

He shrugged. If Holmth caught the crimson, he'd make this as pleasant as he could for Theresa.

"Theresa," he said, unable to keep his voice from quivering just a little, "my Holmth chases yours." He bowed courteously to her after saying this, and moved a bit away from her. But, he smiled, not too far away. He couldn't deny the intensity of his heartbeat nor the fire in his head as he looked at her.

[akusma]

He was waiting, even as she twisted and twirled in the air in an intricate dance that made his heart keen. She was pulling at a thron stuck deep in his heart, and he hated her for it, but it wasn't hate. Not for her. He could never hate her. He keened after her, head bowed slightly. She dind't want him to chase, he hadn't recieved his answer. Mse drew back to reveal a flash of white teeth, stained the colour of Dafnierth's hide. He would not chase if she did not want him! Treveth was ready to leave, head twisting before his body to face his own ledge. Then he heard her own voice, sounding in his mind like a snarling beacon. She dived towards him, and his own eyes suddenly turned red, a swirling mass of every shade imaginable, twisting and turning like snakes caught in a box. He raored, maw stretching out to meet her even as his own wings unfurled, beating to drag him into the air after her. She had called him!

He rose after her, his body lurching in a movement all dragons committed in flight. His maw was right behind her, he was close enough to smell her. And then she had the advantage, and she was higher then he was. Treceth bugled, head swaying to glance over at the Brown and Bronze the Crimson had more of her attention on. Them. He knew them: Bronze Gareth and Brown Orysth. He bared his fangs at them, shrieking as the Crimson dived towards them. He was soon after her, wings not needing to do much as he cuahg t a current of hot air, allowing him to climb higher before he dropped, gathering speed as he went. Don't land, Crimson-Star, you'll die, he thought miserably, not daring to speak to her anymore after her first reaction to him. It was then that another Bronze made his appearance, Holmth, and Treveth snarled at the dragons seeming indifference to the Crimson's fall. Gareth's arrogance made the speckled Brown speechless. Hedared act that that to one such as Dafnierth?! And Orysth did not even have the bravery to stay and try to halt the Crimson's fall, twisintg over the females shoulder. Treveth knew he would not have the time to catch up, he was falling as fast as he was able, trying in vain to somehow stop the Crimson's fall.

O'ler closed his eyes briefly, hands tensing even with his arms crossed. What was his sharding dragon doing? The Brownrider stayed put, eyes flashing open as soon as he heard someone begin to speak. It was then that the Brownrider actually looked at Theresa. She looked so...empty. Even he didn't look like that all the time, most of the time he looked pretty much confused. Like he did now. He stepped forwards, past the bowing rider and into the hut. He sighed staring around the room slightly before facing her.

"You...really don't want us here...so you?" he murmered, not really wanting to speak any louder then that. Crowds, even ones as small as this one, made him nervous. He was sure he would start babbling if he did speak any louder. As usual, the Brownrider had most likely said the wrong thing, or said something he shouldn't have said. He wasn't goo at speaking to people in general. The flightlust hadn't consumed him yet, mostly because he was so nervous because of the crowd. It would soon though. O'ler was sure of it. He just had to be careful not to act like even more of an idiot until then.

[Carni]

Dafnierth distantly noticed that at least one more male had joined her flight and that the second brown had left the ground too, following her closely. She was too focused on the two in front of her though, to pay them much attention. The brown avoided a crash, getting out of her way the last possible moment with a roll over his one shoulder that certainly looked smooth - it was the bronze though, that held her attention. Not due the fact that his move had been more stunning it was just... more daring. By the time he turned his snout upwards to climb even higher to meet her, she realised that he would not back away and make room for her to pass. Getting herself caught was not just dangerous because of the lack of hight but also because of the momentum she had gained from diving down towards the two males. Turning her dive into another rise clearly wasn't the best option she had, considering how hard the bronze was pushing up, and going sideways wasn't a good idea either with at least one brown at her tail and another that had just turned out of her path. A quick glance around revealed the only path she could take from here on and she opened her wings just enough to correct directions. It would still be close, though.

Moments before she could crash into the bronze, her wings snapped open, catching the wind with the full membrane, a loud noise almost sounding like an overly loud clap echoing through the air. She knew she was loosing a great deal of the speed she had gained, the momentum still driving her forward, almost into the bronzes arms but it couldn't be avoided unless she wanted herself to either get caught or severely wounded. She almost came to a halt just above the bronze, staring down with eyes that only showed a hint of yellow among all the purple. But the moment passed and a second later she had turned away, one quick wingbeat following another while she headed sideways and away from the bronze. Had she been heavier, she wouldn't have been able to pull this off at all, her tail and one of her hindlegs brushing across his shoulder, trailing along the tip of his wing while she headed away from him. Even tho she had been diving down to Gareth before, he was not much slower anymore now and going by the shriek she had heard just a few seconds before, the brown from the ground was catching up, falling and - oh was he fast!

Dafnierth understood the danger a quick male coming from above meant, even tho Tereveth probably wasn't even meaning to catch her yet, the other brown was still around too. Again, there was only one way to go now and Dafnierth tucked her wings once more, continuing her dive before Orysth, Tereveth or even Gareth could catch her. The bronze would probably take a little longer to turn around but either of the three was dangerously close. A low growl rumbled deep inside her chest when she spotted the fourth chaser and pulled out of her continued dive early to head towards him. What almost seemed like a welcome to him soley served the purpose of getting the three males behind her tangled together a little more by adding a fourth chaser taking up room. A handsome bronze. She liked that, but she also felt a tinge of pain in one of her wings when she moved past him and begun to climb higher, hoping that the males were either far enough behind or at her height to risk loosing speed into the rise upwards. No more silly dives now, she thought to herself while every heavy wingbeat carried her higher.

She certainly lacked the experience many of the older females had, something that had almost got her caught by Gareth, but her flight was not over yet, no decision made. She wouldn't allow herself to get caught that easily and her instinct begun to call for greater height, pushing herself instead of caring about the over-used wing that might have needed a break rather than another rise.




Theresa silently watched the males, not recognizing any of them from sight, really, being able to tell what color they rode without looking at their knots, her sight shifting between Dafnierth' and her own. Two of them were silent, the bronzerider and the brownrider first to arrive. She saw the dust on the brownriders knee, the klah on his shoes... but somehow it did not really reach her brain. She managed to keep her cold face unmoving, pulling her arms up to cross them in front of her chest, just staring without loosing a word. The third and fourth to arrive, however, were not as silent. She instantly fit the name of his dragon to a bronze but not the one Dafnierth was heading for that moment, even managed to answer his bow with a slight nod of her head. She did not like the way he looked at her, how his eyes seemed to glow with the same intensity his dragon's eyes glowed with. She quickly turned her gaze away from him before it could become too uncomfortable. Instead, she looked at O'ler when he spoke, opening her mouth to say something just when Dafnierth' tail trailed along Gareth' shoulder. For a split second, the cold mask that hid her feelings so well broke, shattered into pieces and revealed how torn she was, not just need and lust filling her blue eyes but also pain and fear. The moment passed as quickly as Dafnierth moved past the bronze, and while the answer had not been spoken, it was obvious to see that she did not really want any of these males inside her hut. Not even close to, if it were her you asked. Her cold mask was back up quickly but now that everyone had seen what laid below it, it didn't seem almost as untouched as before...




((I'll post a response to Habit tomorrow I need sum sleep first.
Again - if you want to crit something, just say it, it's kinda hard to pay equal attention to four chasers and put it into a post that might actually work without godmoding (too much) ^^ I'll do my best though.))

[Hooxeii]

Holmth had known the crimson female was daring from the moment he'd seen her, but oh, how very nearly she'd been caught by that other bronze! How close she'd come to colliding with him! And yet, she had not been caught, had not collided with him. She was clever and agile, perhaps more so than any mere green.

She had managed to right herself, but her gait seemed slowed somehow after that close call. Perhaps she'd injured herself? Holmth felt a pang of guilt deep in his gut. He'd not like to catch her wounded; she'd be less inclined to have truly chosen him, and anyway, catching a wounded female was no true contest. No fair-minded male would consider it a real victory.

Still, he continued to chase. He wanted her so very badly; wanted her for her daring, her skill, her beauty...but he kept the thought of her possible injury in the corner of his consciousness, reminding himself that if she should seem to be in pain that he must give up the chase.

With a mighty beat of his massive wings, he brought himself closer to the competition and to her. He snaked between several other males, taking care to not touch them if at all possible. He remained behind a couple of the males, though, so as not to seem too eager, too forceful. He wanted her to like him, after all.



S'lock had noted the anxiety in the crimsonrider's eyes the moment he arrived. He'd seen that look before, once, when his bronze had chased a proddy green. That time, the young greenrider has seemed to bear the same expression of sadness, even fear. Holmth had not caught that green, and now that he thought about it, S'lock was grateful. He did not want to take her if she did not want to be taken. Mating was supposed to be a wonderful experience for all involved.

He would retain his composure as long as possible. No, he would not become some ravenous canine slobbering over a piece of meat. His desires were getting stronger and stronger, but no, he would not give in to them.

He wished, though, that Theresa would realize this need not be a fearful thing. She did seem very lovely in the light, and he particularly admired the way her nose was set upon her face, and the delicacy of her hands. Why had he never noticed that before? He'd seen her around the weyr, but had he ever spoken more than a few words to her?

He steadied himself and tried not to look at her. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, the lustiness would subside some.

[Morgan]

Dafnierth’s wings snapped open above with a clap like thunder, mere feet away from Gareth. She was almost his! So close, that if he dared he could have reached out and caught hold of her. It wouldn’t have been right, though, as she was too poorly positioned, and their height was horrible. She stopped for a moment, then fled once more. Gareth shivered with pleasure as her tail and hind leg brushed his shoulder and wing, and on the ground, Gareth did yoo, leaning back against the wall for support.

Dafnierth, you are an excellent flier, Gareth complimented her. But I do not think why you should flee me. You are all I want.

Dafnierth went into another spectacular dive, presumably to escape the brown above her. The problem was that Gareth found himself unable to turn as fast as a brown would have been able to, but his eyes still followed the crimson beauty everywhere. Finally he was there, to see Dafnierth heading towards another bronze. Gareth pumped his wings a little harder, getting higher with every wingbeat. She seemed to have the same idea, and she rose, faster than he, but Gareth was still close behind. Her height was good. Soon, she may make her selection, and Gareth intended that to be himself.

---

A shadow passed across Theresa’s face, just for a second. G’wain felt Dafnierth coming closer to Gareth through their connection, but she avoided him. He let loose a discontented sigh. They were so close! He didn’t much want to win just to win, exactly. This wasn’t a regulare green flight, with a blue or two as competition and a rider that knew him and was comfortable with him. The competition was that of a queen flight, the female in it as skillful and unwilling to be caught as a queen. He saw that Theresa was uncomfortable with him, with all the men, and through the crowd of lust wanted to do something to help her. It wouldn’t do for this woman to be more emotionally scarred then he presumed she already was. Besides, he rather liked Theresa, and winning this may… he’d have to see.

He moved a little closer to Theresa, slowly, and not close enough to touch her. He grinned a little. “Your dragon seems to enjoy flying circles around the chasing males,” he remarked, trying to keep the lust that was hammering at his head to do something to relieve it out of his voice. He was moderately successful, and hoped she would see the remark as a friendly comment, rather than a stab at her dragon.

[akusma]

O'ler didn't miss it. How was he supposed to miss it when all he could sharding look at, was her sharding face. By the first egg he hated flights with a passion. They forced him to act like a fool because of some stupid tradition. He hated flights. Theresa's face was nothing short of a picture, but not the right kind. She just looked so...utterly defeated. He blinked, shocked for a moment. O'ler hadn't spoken to Theresa at all, like he hadn't spoken to everyone here; but what he had heard of her was that she was fiery and passionate, nothing like a broken shell at all. She commanded perhaps a little respect from their Weyrleader, and that should have been good enough for the entire Wyer. There were still people who wanted her gone though, her and her freak of a dragon. But Dafnierth wasn't a freak...just different. People hated different. O'ler scowled, arms tightening across his chest. Great, now he was thinking all...seriously. But one thing was for sure: her dragon had never risen before! And she had never been with a man before, most likely. He glanced over at the men here, glaring at more then a few of them. At least one of them seemed to act calm. But the other was just stupid.

"Get away from her you idiot, have you lost your sharding mind?" he snapped, blinking as a wave of lust caused his vision to faulter. Damn his shrading dragon and his sharding dragons need to chase. He wasn't being possesive, though the guy might think he was. "She doesn't want anyone near her, so if she doesn't want anyone near her, don't go near her. Stop trying to force her to be near people. Ever tried to push a woman past her limits? It hurts," he concluded grumpily. It was true. When women were upset most of them had a tendancy to slap, kick or claw. It really did hurt. He'd made the mistake of trying to get out of a Greenrider's Weyr after a flight, and she'd thrown a hissy fit. It had been her first sharding flight and had wanted some shrading form of sharding commitment. Because she thought that was what a flight sharding well was.

The Brown in the air keened in a mix of relief and worry as the Crimson turned out of the dive only to go straight back into one. What was she doing? Did she want to put her life in danger? He snarled over at the Bronze Dafnierth had just touched, somehow wounded that she had even bothered to do so, despite the fact she may not have had any other choice. Such an arrogant creature dind't deserve a wonder like this one! He shot past the dragon, wings folded slightly to become more streamlined, like Dafnierth herself. He was indeed fast, but that might have been the size advantage he held over the Bronze, and indeed the other Brown. He was small, and usually low to the ground. There wasn't much of him for air to hit, so he had less drag to stop him from going faster.

And then she had turned. He squealed with slightly shock as his wings flared, for a moment holding him in place with a noise like thunder before he began to fall slightly. Then he began to move, body catching a thermal and allowing him to twist after her, loosing speed of course, but he was trying his hardest, catching thermals as he seemed to swerve madly from side to side. He may have been slightly small, but he was going to try his hardest. Still, those further behind may have had the chance to catch up, go ahead and he bugled his own challenge. She was going higher, that beautiful Crimson-Star, and he followed, wings beatings as his body moved to create as much extra momentum as it could. He may not have been Bronze, but he was going to try.

((I thought I'd give O'ler more love, because more seems to happeneing at Theresa's hut then in the air XD Poor love struck Treveth.))

[Hooxeii]

S'lock could feel his eagerness to be nearer to her increasing with every breath he took. She was so, so near already; mere footsteps away really, and yet...still too far. His gaze did not leave the ground for fear of what feelings that looking into her eyes might trigger.

He knew this was natural, that this was how things were with dragonriders. His mind was reeling with the effort of keeping himself human enough to contol the physical urges that were becoming more and more insistant. He could feel his lifemate's desire mounting as well, and oh, how wondrous it would be if they could share in that most special of moments with Theresa and her lovely crimson dragon. He'd felt the pleasures of a successful mating before and knew exactly how beautiful a thing it could be.

...but she seemed so afraid. Eventually she would become as Dafnierth; primal and willing...but until then, she was Theresa, a human woman, and thus deserving of a much more willful coupling. Not, of course, that the dragons' couplings were not willful, but S'lock knew too well that on some occasions the riders were frankly dragged along.

He raised his gaze in time to see the confrontation developing between two other men. One had moved closer to Theresa, the other had scolded him for doing so. This could get ugly, especially if Theresa herself said nothing to indicate if she desired the closer company of the men present. He would stay back for now, certainly, but if it looked as though a fight would break out...

...he'd do his best to stop it. Sear and scorch the pleasures of mating flights! They were dragonriders! This was supposed to be a special, almost sacred event...not some tavern brawl!

He watched the two men carefully.

[Carni]

((The A'der-post I promised - I'll wait on obeah's reply with Daf and Theresa ))


A'ders kept his eyes on the sky, rather than on Habit, oblivious to the turmoil that was waging inside the Weyrhealer. He certainly felt the Emotions coming from both female and her chasers too but he was used to it, used to even stronger urges when his dragon was chasing. He stayed relatively calm during the flight except for a slight flinch when the Crimson almost got herself caught by a Bronze that had been more daring than a brown. Upon her words, his head turned slightly into Habits direction, his gaze flickering to her, always keeping part of his attention on the sky above. "Safely?", he asked, "yes, I understand that... but a short flight would keep the risk to a minimum... and likewise the turmoil that might follow closely. I'm... not sure if I really hope she's able to clutch yet.", he paused, turning his face to the Weyrhealer completely.

"Don't misunderstand me. There is nothing more important than the safety of the Weyr and that includes strong wings to fight Thread. But I'm not sure we'r ready for a clutch that had not been lain by a gold yet. I'm not sure if Pern is ready for this change...", A'der explained, his eyes filled with deep thoughts and possibly worries too. It was probably something that kept him awake at night and busy at day. "I will be grateful for every single healthy dragon that hatches... but I would hate myself for every that is not. I wished there was a different way to solve our problem...", he sighed, turning his face back towards the sky, watching the Crimson climb for greater heights. "I'm not sure if I want her to clutch and safe Sylvan... or if I want her not to clutch and possibly doom our Weyr... If she just were a gold...", he words trailed off after this rare display of trust. He usually did not bother his subordinates with worries like these but obviously he had decided to treat Habit as equal, another part of the leadership that kept the Weyr running.

[obeah]

{Sorry this is so late! I'm kind of functionally homeless for two weeks until my new lease starts in June. I've been crashing with friends and my aunt and stuff. Now that school has started, at least I have regular wireless access in the library!}

The clap of thunder sounding from Dafnierth's suddenly unfurled wings would have thrown off Orysth entirely had he been his usual, cerebral self. He would have turned from the calm and collected brown he was to a shy, silly adolescent. However, there wasn't really anything calm or collected to blow away in her wake--at the moment, Orysth was raw and unfettered, a knifelike instinct borne on wings. R'lein had Impressed young, so Orysth was the oldest dragon of the four, his twelve Turns of Chasing experience surpassing even that of the bronze Gareth. He pulled up sharply, wingtip nearly crashing into one of Treveth's, tail swinging forward like a club to arrest his motion and allow him to turn sharply to remain close to Dafnierth.

He roared in protest, a high, loud, turbulent sound, as the crimson's tail slicked across Gareth's wingjoint. Surely Dafnierth couldn't favor this bronze lump, with such a reckless disregard for her safety? Streaks of red striated the overwhelming violet of lust in his eyes for just a moment, but then the anger left him, and the vacuum was filled with an even stronger desire. Dafnierth dove again, but Orysth forced himself not to follow. In order for her to have a pleasurable flight, she would only rise again. He stayed above her. When she soared upward once more, toward Holmth, he was spared the need to jink out of the other dragons' way. He would save his energy for her, for her, all for Dafnierth.

Another animalistic call to the crimson, and he swung back into the fray, on the side away from her injured wing. Without really thinking about it, the stocky brown just knew that she would have to strain even harder to keep from being pulled toward him just by the physics of the thing alone. Somewhere deep inside him, he liked the idea of that--Dafnierth being unable to resist flying closer and closer. He rumbled, spurring his wings ever onward, front talons clasped into tight fists, back legs tensed to make sudden movements easier.

---

R'lein happened to look down just as Theresa seemed to panic, just as fear and mistrust and a small degree of passion overtook the coldness. Then, the fuel of Gareth's shoulder coming into contact with Dafnierth's tail was no longer an issue, and she lapsed back into coldness. G'wain, however, seemed to still have that sudden flame burning in him, and he came closer to Theresa. R'lein made a fist instinctively, not to defend Theresa as a prize, but as someone who could not consent to this kind of contact at the moment. "G'wain," he started to tell his wingsecond, but then O'ler cut in, and the dragonhealer fell taciturn as usual. "He is right," he finally started again, after the brownrider had pointed out Theresa's unwilling posture. "It is not yet time."

---

Habit nodded as A'der mentioned that a short flight was usually a safe flight. Again, she was more willing to believe that nothing about Dafnierth was certain, but she understood how closely dragonlore had to be based on tradition to survive, and she realized rather sheepishly how much her own desire to Impress despite all odds clouded her thinking on that one. However she was quite taken aback at A'der's next statements. He wasn't a very frank man, preferring to keep to himself, so to hear him say anything at all about his feelings would have been stunning. To hear him speak about his uncertainties was very unnerving to Habit, although she just nodded and listened at first.

Her eyes were intense, almost calculating as she looked at him, and if he called her on it, she would say she was just shaking off empathic lust or some such. Instead, though, she was thinking quite hard about what she was about to say. "Perhaps it's not what we're used to," Habit said, "but I think we're readier for a red dragon's clutch than for the alternative." She hesitated. "Even golds can produce abnormal dragons," she said, thinking both of the most recent firelizard clutch and of a club-footed bronze clutched when she'd been first posted to the Weyr as a senior apprentice. "It wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't stop her rising. Besides, Dafnierth herself is probably the product of a gold... she had to have come from somewhere, after all." She couldn't hide the slight degree of reverence in her tone as she spoke the crimson's name. Hopefully A'der wouldn't take it as an insult, hopefully he would remember that she had earlier spoken the names of Arreleth and Louvrestath with the same wonder and awe. "There was a clutch, about six hundred Turns ago," she said cautiously. "A green, a green who'd chewed, laid two--" She stopped, staring at a place just over the Weyrleader's shoulder.

Something about Dafnierth's motion had suddenly caught Habit's eye, and she pointed at the crimson and her chasers. The Weyrhealer then intertwined her fingers, making a small, diamond-shaped hole between her twined ring fingers. She looked through it, forcing her eye to focus solely on the crimson, blocking out the sunlit rest of Sylvan's surroundings, moving her head only slightly to see beyond her cloud of suitors. "Weyrleader, she's pulling to one side a bit with each stroke," she reported, eyebrows furrowing under the hands that covered most of her eyes. "Mildly, but still present," she said as the crimson continued to ascend.

[Carni]

((It's all fine, obeah, just take your time
One last post for everyone before I shall randomize the winner! (I srsly have no favorite yet, you'r all doing amazing posts! <3) ))

A glancer over her shoulder told Dafnierth that she had not lost any of her chasers yet, ensured her that she was still rising and they still chasing. Two bronzes and two browns, four strong male of whom she already had touched one. She would have prefered more males to chase her, more to choose from but four were just right. She watched Holmth hold back his power, staying a little behind without loosing too much ground, wondering if he was just waiting for his chance or getting tired already. The other bronze, the one who had almost caught her in his reckless move, turned much slower than the two browns, fighting harder to keep up. Somehow she felt a tinge of cruelty, enjoying her tiny revenge when she saw him fight for the height. Served him right, having to work this hard after touching her! She enjoyed Gareth' compliment but somehow she did not feel to waste her thoughts on an answer, sucking it in but not giving anything back. She almost chuckled in her throat watching the smallest brown shoot past her when she turned into her rise, enjoying the fact that she had tricked the swift male even tho it had only been for a mere second. He was still quick to follow her, though, not loosing much ground before he begun to catch up again, his light weight not pulling him down as much as it did the other three. Speaking of three... she spotted the last of her chasers not too far off to her side, realising she had been slightly heading over to him due to the strain she was putting on her wounded wing. With a grunt, her head swung back around, straightening her flight while she kept going, kept rising up into the sky.

The air was already getting cooler, breathing harder and it didn't take long until she opened her maw, every breath running down her throat with a loud rattle while her body begun to show more and more signs of exhaustion. Diving was much easier than rising at this pace, forcing her body up against the gravitys pull instead of relying on warm thermals to carry her up much more slowly. No, she did not wait for the wind, she would outfly it! She wanted to reach the clouds and touch the stars and she wanted it now! Sadly enough, there were no clouds to break through, no barrier she could crush, she only noticed she had passed the clouds when she saw a few below, the last rays of the falling sun carassing her body. She was really getting tired now, her wounded wing shivering from the effort of keeping her aloft, every wingbeat gaining less hight. From time to time she had been steering over to the brown but focusing on her pace had corrected that issue over and over again. Her body was working like a machine, exhaustion and pain clouding her mind while she was still struggling for height. And then, in the last light of the day, she suddenly swung around, hovering not far above the males. Waiting for them to catch up. She would have risen higher had she not wasted so much energy in playing around, had she have more experience in flights. But for her first flight, this height was enough, safe enough to be caught. Going even higher would have forced her into the arms of a male at some point, but she wanted to choose. Wanted to pick the male. A growl rumbled low into her chest when her wing twitched, turning into a full-hearted roar into the males direction. Who dared to come? Who dared to find out whom she had chosen? They had not been far apart when she begun her climb and she doubted any of them would give up now just because she had challegend them to come to her one last time. It was now, that she would choose...








"I'd prefer if she kept doing that...", Theresa whispered, the first few words she had said ever since the males had come to her hut. She did not feel comfortable with one of them getting so close but yet again made no move to make him go away. Her head turned when one of the other males spoke up, obviously stepping in to protect her. She felt as if her head was about to explode, torn between desire and fear, unable to be sure if she wanted protection, something that even sounded slightly possesive. Part of her even realised that things could get out of hand quickly but she made no move to interfier, nothing to calm either of them down. She just sat there, like a rabbit caught in the flashlights of a truck, waiting for her world to explode. Into what? Either pain or pleasure, lust or fear...

Her gaze moved from the two males that seemed about to pick a fight, noting with slight relieve that one had turned his gaze away, that his eyes were not already trying to take her clothes off but the fourth joining the conversation knocked her back onto the topic, feeling the strong urge to back away from either of the four. The way he said it, how he used those few words implied that it would be, indeed, soon time. Time for what? Theresa crossed her arms tighter in front of her chest, a useless shield in which she unknowingly mirrored her dragon when she flinched. She could feel the pain running through Dafnierth wing like it was her own and whilst she did not have wings, her brain turned it into her arm. She tried to draw it even closer but drew her breath in sharply while Dafnierth swung around to face the males. Pain and Lust were echoing through her body, shaking her visibly while she pleed for more time, wished her dragon to keep rising until all the males were gone. Her silent plees, however, did not make it to the Crimson. While the lust in her body begun to build up, the part that was still Theresa wished she could just leave her body for a while and come back when it was over, come back when the males were gone without any memory about the happenings... Apparently... they would soon know whom had to go and whom would stay... ...unless they decided to start fighting over her...

---

A'der took notice of Habits intense stare with a slight raise of one eyebrow but he said nothing, probably taking the hint of lust they all felt into consideration. His frown grew deeper agains while he was listening to her. He had already guessed she would disagree with him but even tho her arguments were good, he did not move from his own position, probably as Habit would've expected from him. "I know about these occurences.", he said, narrowing his eyes as he followed her gaze up to where the Crimson was just straightening up again. Habit certainly had sharp eyes, very useful for a person in her position. "And while I agree that she must've been from a golds clutch... I am not sure... if her mutation is... natural.", his words were hesistant, carefully placed. He knew that mutations occured on occassion, knew about the two dragons that had been slightly off... but a change in color? And these many weird flitters? As far as he knew, it was unheard of. He was pretty sure none of their Weyrhealers would have been able to cause any mutation within an egg, but Theresa sometimes made him wonder whether she truely was from this time or not. Things she had said sounded as if she wasn't. He had no proof yet, but maybe healers from her time...? It sounded way too fictional even to himself and somehow he wished he had not said it aloud, hoped that Habit would not take it as an insult towards the healers in general. Finally, he remembered what Habit had mentioned earlier, returning to the much safer topic.

"I can see it aswell.", he said, narrowing his eyes again "...she probably strained her wing when pulling away from that bronze. At least that does seem like a movement that could have hurt her wing... and trying to take pressure from the wounded part will make her turn over... I think...", but since Dafnierth just kept rising, correcting her path from time to time, there was little they could do about it. The flight would have to end naturally, he couldn't call the males down just because the Crimson had possibly strained one of her wings slightly. He sighed ever so slightly, thinking off the efford it would possibly take to make the rider have someone look at that wing. He did not quite understand why Theresa was so... unwilling to assist the healers when they came to check up on her dragon.