Sylvan Weyr

[Morgan]

Gareth was tiring, but he knew Dafnierth must be too. He had been at the chase for a while now, and the whole thing was slowing down in his perception. He sensed anger from a few of the other chasers, one in particular, for some reason. He pinpointed the reason. Dafnierth was favoring one wing over the other. It wasn’t his fault, surely! Well, there was that stunt earlier, rising to meet her dive, but still… he surged onwards. She was higher, defiantly above the clouds. He would rise to meet her. She rumbled, then roared. A challenge. He would meet that challenge. He knew, instinctually, that there would be no more games. It was now or never.

---

G’wain heard to others, reprimanding him. Reprimanding! Him. He wa just trying to make Theresa more comfortable with what was obviously her dragon’s first Flight. He hesitated, and took a step backward. It was just to placate the others, who were obviously overpossesive. Did they know nothing about flightlust? It was dangerous to those who couldn’t control it. He would leave her alone, and the other men alone, for now. Fighting wouldn’t do at a time like this. Instead, he would wait. After all, Gareth saw that the flight was almost over. He would bide his time.

[akusma]

O'ler grunted as he glanced towards another of the men there, not liking the look in his eyes. It was like he expected a fight, and there was no way O'ler was starting a fight. He wasn't a violant man, and fighting was not something he was fond of. A scowl was firmly fixed on his features, and just to prove that he did not want Theresa to himself he moved backwards, back hitting the wall that he simply leant against. He was not a stupid man, oblivious most of the time maybe, but not stupid. He did have rare moments of empathy, and now was one of them. Everyone here was befuddled with flightlust, even the idiot in front of him, but even then you could still control your actions. He did not have the oldest dragon amoungst the ones here, he was sure G'wain had that pleasure, but he seemed to have the most control here. Except for maybe R'lein, he at least seemed to have some sense. G'wain he viewed as an idiot, even though they were the same age, and S'lock. Did the idiot not realise he was not looking for a fight? Of course, it did not occur to the Brownrider that his gruff tone was not usually one used normally. S'lock had no idea of knowing that O'ler was just like that.

The rider raised an eyebrow as the Crimsonrider spoke, head tilting slightly. What by Faranth was she on about? He nodded slightly as G'wain moved backwards, relaxing slightly now that he knew the Bronzerider was not in Theresa's way. Indeed, it was partly protectiveness of Theresa that made him snap, but also of G'wain, whether willingly or not. Women were a bit more...volatile then men, and when they got angry and scared when they were vunerable, they lashed out at the thing nearest to them. In this case, it would have been G'wain. He sighed as Theresa seemed to pull even more into her shell, even more fragile as she started to shake. Thank the first egg G'wain wasn't trying to get too close.

Treveth kept his song high now, keening lowly in almost mourning as he viewed all of his chances gone, vanished. Bronzes were chasing, a latger Brown, and while he may be fast, and his hide eye catching, was he was as impressive? He doubted it. His wings were beginning to ache, the strain from trying to keep up, especialy at the pace he was trying to set and from the brake he had done to turn and catch up to the Crimson-Star. He was small, possibly the smallest chaser, and he was not built for long distance, and while he was still a respectable size for a Brown, there were Blue's his size in the Weyr. He was tiring fast. Blues would not chase a Gold, and he was the size of one, even now he thought himself barely worth her attention. She was not a Gold, she was better then one.

His mouth was gaping onw, there were pauses in his song until he gave in altogether. He needed the air. The sun was setting, the clouds he had passed through gaining an orange sheen that made them glow in orange fire, orange not red like the Red Star and the Crimson in front of him, ahead of him. And then she stopped. Still keeping his pace he moved forwards, hoping that he was not too late, that he hadn't ruined any chance he had as he gained on the closeness he had lost. Even with a shaking wing she could gain more height and speed then him in a climb, it made sense considering her wingspan was larger. The sun hit her hide and made her glow even more, red becoming tinged in orange fire, a fire that made her only more beautiful instead of burning her. Her growl became a roar, a challenge to her chasers, to him as well. His heart soared. With one final push he flapped lifting his wings higher to try and gain more height, which made the burn in his wings more prominent. He roared in return, the blast short but strong and left him panting, mouth wide and showing the green tinge in his mouth, shadowed by the setting sun.

[Hooxeii]

She continued, despite the impact to her wing. Oh, how Holmth admired her courage, her endurance! She was a prize, no doubt about it...a fine female worthy of only the best males in the whole of Pern.

Holmth quite obviously hoped he was at least in the running. He beat his wings as hard and fast as he could, but he was becoming weary. Desire coursed through his entire being, but even that would not drive him much longer. He could see and feel that the crimson lady was tiring too, and given that she was essentially a different sort of green, he was immensely impressed by the lengthy nature of this chase. It was unusual for a green to fly this long, but, he reminded himself, she was no green. She was red like fire, like the sky as the sun set. Red like the blood of men, like fruit ripe on trees in the springtime.

He eyed the gorgeous wings, the lovely, delicate head. His gaze followed her slender--but powerful!--outline all the way down her long neck to her tail. She simply radiated femininity now, so close to her choosing.

He beat his wings as hard as he could, attempting to get as close to her as he could. He no longer felt he could benefit from remaining behind and biding his time...there was no time left, really.

Loosing a glorious triple-noted bugle that suprised even himself, Holmth continued, hoping luck and the favor of a crimson dragon were his this day.



She was nearing her choice, S'lock could tell. The way she seemed lost in a trance, the expression that read of woman and dragon becoming nearly one entity told of the end of her dragon's flight.

Would she choose him? Would she, when they barely knew each other and might never be together like that again? He couldn't imagine she would, but all of him hoped it might be so. Oh, let it be so! She was so fair, so brave! Deserving of a caring lover such as he! Nevermind that they'd likely not be as close after, nevermind their limited knowledge of each other! Let it be so!

He barely regained control in time. He'd begun to walk towards her, but caught himself and threw himself to the ground. He stared at the terrain beneath him, and at his now scraped hands. This was unlike him.

He liked to think he gave women the proper respect, especially female dragonriders. Here, now, he felt as if he was objectifying her. Theresa, lovely Theresa, was not deserving of this. He was not an animal. He would hold on as long as he could.

He hoped she would choose soon, regardless of whether or not it was him.

[obeah]

Habit watched the crimson's movement, the brown that came in from the side, the other chasers bugling and keening and rumbling. She started to say something, then closed her lips. By the time it was really formed, her mind had moved on to wondering how she was going to convince Theresa to let her clear Dafnierth for wing duties. She hadn't met the red dragon's rider but in passing, an exchange of introductions at dinner once, a passing of water after a long day's groundcrew work, back when she had been exclusively on crutches. But, believe her, she had heard things. "No, I understand, Weyrleader," Habit returned momentarily to the topic that had been at hand before Dafnierth's motion had become erratic. She didn't want A'der to think she had brushed off his most secretly held concerns. "We're certainly not being... lax... in what research we can do." It was just difficult when there really wasn't anything to research. Lost in thought, she turned back to the sky, holding a loosely cupped fist to her lip as she pondered. The flight would be over soon. Hopefully A'der would give her a hand with checking Dafnierth in a few hours. It wasn't that Arreleth's will would be needed to hold the dragon down... but stubborn as Habit was, she could always use a second hand when it came to what she'd heard about Theresa.

---

Oh, if only R'lein were better at the human aspect of healing. Theresa had obviously been hurt deeply... sundered was the word that came to his mind for some reason, and he had no idea how to even start addressing it. Lucky for the taciturn brownrider, there wouldn't be much need in a minute. If she were lucky, she might not even remember the flight afterward. In his experience, the lust she and her fortunate suitor would feel worked even better than the strongest wine to reduce memories of the time before to small snippets--flashes of skin, the feeling of breath on one's neck and shoulders, the dizzying fall of paired wings. He was about to snarl at S'lock, the next to fall all over himself straining toward Theresa, but what Orysth did next tore the breath from his body.

The brown snarled as Holmth managed to cut in front of him, wheeling to the right and diving beneath the flight, then rising sharply just below Dafnierth. The beautiful crimson would have to fall through him if she wanted to end the flight now. Hopefully, it might convince her that she really ought to fall with him rather than into him. It was only several wingbeats later that the pain managed to course its way up from Orysth's leg to his passion-addled mind. In his bold swoop, he had pulled something in his right hindquarter, not hard enough to damage permanently, but certainly hard enough to feel. He screamed and pulled his leg up closer to his body, abdomen suddenly pulled even tauter with pain, but did not waver an inch from his course--working closer and closer to Dafnierth's beautiful body from below.

---

Habit's eyes flashed back to the sky as the tension soared. Dafnierth would be caught soon, if she did not decide. But it was the russet-colored brown still in the running that caught her attention. He was flying lower than the chasers, hoping to rise into Dafnie--"Orysth's out a flank," she reported, pointing. "Right hind, injury close to the abdomen." It didn't look particularly bad, but he would still be out of wing practice for at least two days. "Mild tear, he's carrying it like," she frowned.

[Carni]

Dafnierth' gaze moved between her four chasers, watched their last push, their last energy put into the final rise. All four were still following her tail, still chasing, still making her proud. For a split second she could understand why golds controlled the whole Weyr, why they wanted all the males to themselves. She wanted all of these males too. All four of them. Each of them, bronze or brown, had proven himself worthy in her eyes. Each of them was a possible mate. But the Crimson could only choose one. Only one could catch her. It was horrible! Dafnierth hovered a little longer in the air just above them, hesitating while they came dangerously close. Three would be disappointed, three would loose and somehow the Crimson felt sorry for them. They all had flown so well, answered her challenge with so much strength of body and will. She wanted them to know that they all had done well, that she still had not made her decision until the last second. But she had to choose now! Her gaze moved over every single male once more, her body filled with warmth and love, not just desire, a soft croon coming from her snout.

While only one of them could win her body, all four of them had won her heart....

With one, heavy breath she closed her eyes and allowed the wind to choose for her, gave up all control she had retained. The free wind would choose her mate, would carry her into his warm touch... The males were so close, it was impossible not to touch one, impossible to fail them this last second. Her wingtip brushed over the side of one male, her tail over the leg of another when the wind pulled her down. Her wing was still hurting but the pain grew distant when her chest touched a third of her chasers, her forelegs embracing him before she could slip past him. Dafnierth had chosen and opening her lustful glowing eyes she saw who it was... Orysth..., she whispered when the begun to fall from the sky together...




What had started as a low, helpless whimper turned into a moan when Dafnierth made her choice, washing away Theresas fear, her thoughts, the iron shell she had forged around herself. The thought of either of these males had been rather disturbing but while she had been very scared of G'wain who had tried to make her more comfortable and somehow felt a little better when O'ler and S'lock had stepped in to protect her Dafnierth had somehow chosen the dragon of the rider who had stuck out the least to her. R'lein probably cared about her as much or as little as the others did but with a little luck Theresa would not even remember his face after this flight, not remember what happened, not remember that she wanted him - right there, right now - him or any other male that dared to come to her now. It had been terrifying to see what the flight made her think and feel but all her doubts were forgotten, leaving nothing but a warm emptyness, a bottomless hole that would swallow her memories if she did not try to remember too hard. She would certainly enjoy the flight as long as it would last now...

...but when it was over, she would return to her old self, return to being cold to everyone and males in particular. Theresa was not the person to choose a permanent Weyrmate, not even a friend today. But maybe... just maybe... she would remember that neither of these four had tried to attack her. That they all had behaved and played nice. Maybe she would remember that much of this day...

---

A'der quietly nodded while he too turned his gaze back to the sky, narrowing his eyes when Habit mentioned another injury. "That's two dragons not capable of fighting Thread for at least a short while...", he mumbled, not quite to Habit but more to himself. He sounded grim, knowing that every missing dragon would put more stress on every remaining wingmate. At least the Crimson had not wounded any of her chasers. It was going quite smoothly considering it was her first flight and the first Crimson Sylvan Weyr had seen to rise. Maybe the day wasn't all that bad after all. He still wasn't sure if he wanted the red dragon to clutch or not. He wished that the group of riders they had sent to get help from the northern Continent returned with a Queen, saving him of this conflict but something told him they wouldn't. Sylvan Weyr's future was resting soley in Dafnierth' claws. And A'der hated it.
A'der hated being helpless with a passion.



((And with that... the flight concludes. I'm sorry I took forever to make this final post but at least it is done now.
I had to randomize the winner since I was not able to make a coice myself - everyone did an amazing job, re-reading this makes me hope that every future flight will be as awesome as this one was. Your chances at winning were truely equal and I shall give someone else a chance to win Dafnierth next time
If any of you (in case you return) wants to have a couple of after-flight posts, just go ahead. I'm more than willing to rp a little around this whole ordeal.))

[obeah]

All Orysth could feel for a moment was pain. There was the burn of jealousy as Dafnierth's tail made contact with dragonhide--not his own. There was the sting of the cold air in his lungs. There was the stab that throbbed with each heartbeat pumping blood to his injured leg. R'lein on the ground gritted his teeth. It was hard for him to remain upright.

Then, suddenly, it was hard for him to keep standing for entirely a different reason. He felt Orysth clasped in crimson arms, felt the brown clasp her back, draw his hindquarters up. As the pair fell, endlessly entwined in one another, the world swirled away from R'lein. All he could feel was Dafnierth, and Theresa in his strong embrace.

---

Habit tensed up as the wave of lust passed through the Weyr. For a moment, she turned to leave. She didn't want to be around people when there were emotions she couldn't control in her. The sight of two dragons falling from the sky stopped her in her tracks. She'd never seen it before. Though the air around her practically crackled with broadcast lust, her eyes shone only with curiosity, and she watched as the pair disappeared below the treeline.