====February 15, 2014
====Tuli, K'ane, El'ai, N'zi, Yules, Elicheritath, Dhioth, Zateriyath, Sekhaenkath, Desmeth
====The bronzeriders might want to tell Tuli that they don't wanna be a fool for you, just another player in your game for two, but Elicheritath is the one who decides who goes bye, bye, bye.

Who Tuli, K'ane, El'ai N'zi, Yules, Elicheritath, Dhioth, Zateriyath, Sekhaenkath, Desmeth
What The bronzeriders might want to tell Tuli that they don't wanna be a fool for you, just another player in your game for two, but Elicheritath is the one who decides who goes bye, bye, bye.
When It is late evening of the twenty-second day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where IGW - Lakeshore

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Igen Weyr - Lake Shore
Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

Pacing. Pacing. Of course it's late evening, of course Elicheritath would do this under the cover of darkness. Shadowed in the veil of night, Tuli is digging a track into the soft lakeshore sand, her brow furrowed, her figure tense. She is muttering - to herself, to Elicheritath, to the universe. "Fucking - why aren't you a brown - will you shut up, I'm trying to think -" Question: who let her have that stick? And why does that stick look an awful lot like a CLUB? Overhead, something is swooping, a low buzz carried on the night air. Uh-oh.

BZZT CHK ZZZZ. Elicheritath lands in the Pens with the harsh din of a locust swarm, comes down like something horrible suddenly landed in your bed. She's no bubbly blond decked out in pink: THIS queen has been growing strong on entrails for a sevenday, acquired from any suitor brave enough to risk her lair - and now she's come to wreck her havoc.

It's been a long day, Tuli. Couldn't Elicheritath picked a better time to do this? It's not like K'ane and Dhioth are going to bring ANYTHING to this situation than a bad attitude and hormones. Lots of raging male hormones. K'ane balefully glowers overhead, trundling out in his PAJAMAS. He could have been SLEEPING here, okay? Dhioth's highly-attuned form glide past, soaring overhead towards the Pens. It's easy to see the Elicheritath drives Dhioth crazy… he just can't sleep. He's just so excited… With her out here like that. It doesn't follow through to the humans. "Tuli?" K'ane's voice rises, just a LITTLE alarmed. "Do you have a CLUB?"

Ain't nothin' but a heartache — well, for anyone who doesn't end up victorious, anyway. Zateriyath certainly wants it to go his way — he's all shifting desert sand and rough-weathered rock as he gleams in the fading light, coming to ground with a solid thud and a snap-back of his wings. His attention's all on Elicheritath, with little spared for potential, ah, other suitors.

Darkness is the veil that shades the length of youthful form that has reached the final culmination in growth; El'ai, formerly of Telgar, formerly of Benden, formerly of wherever his sister was has returned to the shores of the weyr that was once a last resort. Perhaps, his steps walk the shores of a desert weyr in remembrance, but never in fear does the once-too-innocent boy walk. Growth has reached apex, and Southern's jungles have added a touch of weathering to features that were once cherubic. Reflective, contemplative; he walks with each step calibrated to the next, which incidentally has him pacing in Tuli's direction. All grown up he may be, but oblivious to the purpose of Sekhaenkath's wanderings is he. K'ane — does he remember who K'ane was? — is noted, which halts his steps. He stands in silence, head canted just a slight angle to the side, arrested in movement.

On top of the world — proverbially — midnight's velvet touch flows along length of lithe form, the shards of dragon-glass pointed spars catching the hints of moonlight available. Sekhaenkath's time has come; the flame-footed bronze lands with the unfurling of predator's aspect, a flowing nectar of a male come to his prime… finally. The whirl of red-orange eyes are beacons set against the utter darkness of coloring, sinister yet softer. For those that would remember a long-ago bronze, Sekhaenkath is kin and not kin. Blood of blood, but not the same. Something pure, something good, exists in the cat-like swish of back end, the flick of tail, the way he toys with the prey that do not elude the raptor-like wickedness of talons.

Dhioth knows that Elicheritath don't want no scrubs. He's just here to ensure that no freakin' scrub gets her love, okay? It's totally platonic, his interest here. Quit looking at him like that. It's not like he wants it that way or anything. Why would he? It's Elicheritath. Go cry him a river. The dominion of dark-and-light descends with the silent power of a thousand harnessed runners, a score of lost souls and all the unholy desire of the darkest parts that the light can never reveal. He revels in the blood he spills, in the meddling of the spinner queen, and in the night, forever the night: but seriously, quit playin' games with his heart.

N'ZI, for crying out loud, N'zi looks a little bit awkward, a little bit like he doesn't actually want to be here, but his better half won this round, so. Zateriyath is in the pens, and N'zi is here in all his wasted-potential glory: dusky features are set in a distinct frown that keeps accidentally hitting the right notes to trip over from prickle into smoulder. For once in your life, N'zi, be a man. "That is very," is clipped, just a little, "large. That is a very large," pause "stick." For once in your life, N'zi.

Screw you, this is clearly the BEST time for this. Tuli ceases in her pacing - but only to brandish the club. (In the dim light, it's hard to tell, but it's in fact part of a pair of crutches. Did she rob the Healers for this?) "I carry what I want to carry, K'ane, I don't have to answer to assholes who don't NAME THEIR CHILDREN - oh," pause, "fuckit." Elicheritath is over in the feeding pens, isn't she? :( The young woman's holler rings out: "BLOOD ONLY. NO BRAINS." At the approaching humans, Tuli has only this to say: "You - need to go bye. Bye. Bye."

If you want to be Elicheritath's lover, it naturally follows that you wanna get with her friends. Or, wait. No. I meant prey. Her PREY. The poor herdbeasts all thought they were done with being pursued for the night, but no. No. The first comes down with a scream, the thick organic scent of rust filling the air. The gold's suitors merit only a low bloody-mauled hiss, a SIGNIFICANT wing rustle: can't you see she's busy, here? Jeez, guys.

How can be, there right there with me, there's an angel, it's a miracle? N'zi's love is like a river, peaceful and deep; El'ai's soul is like a secret that K'ane never could keep. When he looks into Tuli's eyes he knows it must be true… she's a fucking batshit crazy bitch with a crutch. He's going to keep his distance, k, THX. (… bai, not bye. Tules already has enough of those.)

Step by step, ooh baby — he's gonna get to you, girl. It was just a matter of time before Eli pounced, and in the moments after Zateriyath follows. Step one: have fun, step two: the snap-crunch thud of heardbeast death. No one else will ever do.

Growth may be achieved, but El'ai is yet to be a full-grown man yet, resembling more of a cross-between boy and adult, so it is with big eyes — which can be seen by the glint of moonlight off the wet shine as the boy throws his head back at the same time his hands go out protectively — that he eyes the foreign goldrider. "Uh…" The intelligence (or lack there of) in response is enough of a descriptor of the foreign bronze's lack of experience. "Wait. Wait." Tuli is suddenly eyed like a grammy set on a podium of awesome (where everyone else are the carbon copies that just need to be stepped on to get there). "No waySekhaenkath! You traitor!" K'ane, N'zi — it's not that they're not noted; it is that they take a backstreet to the pressing betrayal of his bronze.

Dhioth isn't actually confident that he wants to be Elicheritath's lover or get with her friends, to be COMPLETELY honest. All those creepy spinner games can kind of freak out the bastion of pure justice and unblackened valor currently enjoying the dying lowing of a blood-starved beast, feasting with atavistic glee upon the panick-struck elixir that messes his face as artfully as a Joss Whedon vampire. What? He's not playing any games with anyone's heart… this is just a slight glimpse of what lies behind the light. Wings mantle, a sweet hiss scenting the blood and fear in the air. Come on, Eli. Let Dhioth show you the shape of his… heart.

A brown dragon unfamiliar to most Igenites lands just long enough to let a long, gawky figure slide off his neck before taking off in the direction of the pens. Said long figure huffs into view and mutters under her breath. It sounds suspiciously like 'not again', but Yules eyes the collection of men in the area. Oh GOOD, a familiar face: "El'ai!" she calls and sidles in his direction, steering clear of the one with the club. "Desmeth said we had to come or else." And there's no turning that down… Another eyeful of Tuli-avec-club, "So. This is happening, huh?" She throws her hands up in the air. WAves 'em round like… well, yeah.

Against the jive of age-old music of his lifemate, Sekhaenkath is the sleek flow of notes that represent the future. A future that's full of darkness and light; both flashing when he dives for another of the Igen gold's prey — they are all hers, for in her weyr he walks. Where El'ai is awkward, his lifemate is not. Where the notes jive in high-pitched male voice, the purring rumble that comes through dripping, open maw is anything but. Power resides in sleek muscles that send the young bronze to the skies, only to fall once more. The 90s aren't here, yo. That'd be down the way, in El'ai's corners. He doesn't get the short end of it, but he might be the underdog, to slip under the radar, despite the brilliance of flame-foot hide.

Like a Top 40 radio station flickering in and out, Tuli's concentration is unstable, torn between her lifemate - "Blood, fuck it, I don't care if the meat smells good -" and holding at bay the MALES. With a crutch-club. This is the least dignified way she could have done this; at least there's the cover of darkness. "Until the day my life is through," the goldrider intones, in one of her more 'aware' moments, "I'm going to hate all of you. This I promise you." Every word she says is true, this she promises you.

"Oh," N'zi says, "oh, yeah. I just got paid, I should-" the next word is probably supposed to be 'go,' but it's swallowed on a grimace and a, "never mind." He does not have much of a booty to shake, but apparently someone else is calling the shots, 'cause there's a little bit of a wiggle as he stands by. "Large," he's back to Tuli's club, "like your dragon." Not this again.

Desmeth doesn't even give his rider a bye-bye-byyyye, he's off to the show, wine in (mental) hand and a song in his heart. He's just in like a jet plane, doesn't even take a step or two before Elicheritath is up, and Desmeth is to follow. He's young, he's large, he's… selecting a fine beast to blood. One eye on Elicheritath and the other on the bronzes, but Desmeth isn't put off. Good show, dear fellows…

K'ane believes Tuli's promise. "Say my name," he hoarsely states, then looks guiltily around as if anyone heard him. What? Saying 'Say my name' is a PERFECTLY FINE thing to repeat SEVENTY THOUSAND TIMES in the period of three minutes. He's not actin' shady or playin' any games. Really. "Tuli, maybe you should," say my name, "Put down the club." And no, really. Say my name. What's that? You didn't hear it the first fifty thousand times? Oh yeah, it was say my name.

Truly, it's tearing up Elicheritath's heart. Or, uh. A herdbeast's heart, anyway. She's on her third, lapping greedily, the blood spotting her tar-and-amber hide. And then she - pauses. Sits, a black pit of uncanny silence. Her eyes GLEAM in the darkened air like the creature of nightmares she so often is. And then - with no more forewarning than a sudden bzzzt of her wings - she's UP. Nowtimers On The Block had a bunch of hits. Nerati food makes me sick. And the boys all think it's fly when the golds stop by for the… winter.

"I…" El'ai's voice is whisper-soft; he's the audience, vying for a spot on stage. Vying to be the youthful heartthrob in this circle, that is until Yules's voice is heard over the sound of Tuli's warnings and N'zi's mutterings and K'ane's insane love of his own name. "Oh. Sekhaenkath wanted to come to Igen. To wander, like he normally does." Growth achieved, the boy-man shoves his hands in his pockets, and shoots Yules a smile that's not less than a little lust-driven, which is odd on formerly cherubic lips. A touch of shadow cloaks his cheeks, but Tuli's gilded grammy-prize is too much to resist, which drags those bright blue eyes to the goldrider. LUST. Everyone wants their own grammy.

Grammy's span the ages, from 90's to current days; Sekhaenkath is going to try and slip through the cracks. He's the underdog, a fae-light beacon of enigmatic mystery that cloaks each pull and stretch of muscle beneath darkened-bronze hide. Farthest walker, lacking the bite of his dam, but not lacking the drive to succeed. To prevail. Wings unfurl as the night becomes the warmth of a lover, the beckoning call of dancing fae-lights and twinkling of stars. Predator unfurled, the bronze has finally reached the culmination that's been elusive since he first hatched: true maturity. The first flight that's filled with blood, lust, and a drive for the golden prize given to all who prevail in the arts. Oscars, grammies; he lusts too, and drives him to run for cover. His sense of fear is running thin, flying for cover like a candle in the wind.

Dhioth is empty, spaces filling him up with holes as he lashes land-bound and struggling for the skies. Tempered with patience, his ichor boils within his veins — incomplete. So incomplete. He yearns for the kiss of air against his sails as much as he lusts for the feel of Elicheritath's… bzzt. He launches into the skies with unmitigated fury, his wingbeats as staccato lyrics thrashing against an ill-limned song. He wants to push Elicheritath around. He wants to take her for granted. And he will — he will.

Yules doesn't care who you are, where you're from, or what you did, as long as the scary lady puts the club down. Instead, Yules nods in an attempt to comfort El'ai, "There there. I'm sure he really meant that." Is Yules calling Sekhaenkath a liar? Of course not. As the dragons launch, Yules eyes Tuli with a bit of anticipation. Ooooh baby.

In the air, Zateriyath is Igen incarnate, the land itself aloft: pale in the moonlight that strikes off the desert sands of his 'sails, the lichen'd, weather'd rock of his body; there in the sinuous curve of his belly and tail the river runs dark, still holds some shadow'd secrets as he propels himself upward with a will. He is slim, lean and fast; happy girls and happy boys on the ground may be having some fun, but he's got one goal in mind: getting it on.

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING MY DRAGON FAT ALREADY." Tuli's voice SCREECHES through the night air: the crutch flails towards N'zi. Hopefully the rest of them are quick on their feet, or there's going to be casualties. But most of her attention is in the air, with Elicheritath, cheeks flushed and free fist curling and unfurling at a rapid pace. "Kick their ASSES, Elicheritath!" And yet, there is, rather embarrassedly, a muttered, "Mm." Bop, with the crutch. Duba dop.

Once off the ground, Desmeth is pushing himself, tempering against new air currents that he's not used to pushing against. There's a bit of trouble for the young brown, but he'll master this too. Come, my lady, come come, my lady, he trumpets, offering silken white wine legs down the curvature of a wineglass, be my butterfly, sugar, baby. Do dragons have tongue-rings? Probably best not to find out, in this case, but Desmeth's wings pump against the thinner air.

N'zi is not expecting a crutch, for Faranth's sake: he catches it not with hands but with his body, his, "Ow!" sharp in the night. "I AM NOT CALLING HER FAT, I AM MAKING AN OBSERVATION ABOUT HER SIZE." This is when he stops loving you, Tuli. "SHE IS LARGE. IN COMPARISON." Despite this: he's never leaving.

K'ane yelps at the swing. LISTEN GUYS HE IS IN HIS PAJAMAS (which means he's got some fuzzy pants on, in this cold which he never feels). But he's willing to bleed just to feel like he's alive… or alternately because he has a really sadistic handler that always has him get hurt. "Tuli," he starts, stepping forwards all earnest and shit — it really doesn't work for him, that's Rhiex's gig, but he'll try it. "Maybe you should calm down. Do y' really think th' world wants to see you like this?" REASONABLE. "Everything isn't made t' be broken." Except possibly K'ane's nose in point zero seven seconds…

Elicheritath will your dream, she'll be your wish, she'll be your fantasy. She's be your hope, your love, everything that you need - provided you can CATCH HER FIRST. She's a big Oldtimer gold, a giant amongst dragonkind: her broad wings carry her with pounding beats across the darkened desert sky, shooting over the caldera, out over the plateau beyond. She veers teasingly close to Zateriyath, and then suddenly drops like a ghost out of sight, to reappear with an unearthy insectoid clamor right under Desmeth. She flicks past Sekhaenkath with a mocking BZZT, swooping past Dhioth - and then darts forward, with the heavy drumbeat of her wings to set the pace. The rhythm is gonna GET them (I can do 1980s if I WANT.)

"Yeah, right," El'ai shoots Yules a look, though Tuli's sudden outburst draws his attention back to her. The look he gives the Igen junior is more than a little bit of youthful infatuation. I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy… — it is all writ upon the countenance that shows only the slightest of life's wear. "It's…" Another true-blue glance is tossed to Yules, "… Just like heaven." Wait, what? That's not a 90's boy band? It's in the general HEMISPHERE of music. Kinda. El'ai walks to a different, tune guys. Never more so than now, stumbling against the proverbial grain. "She has a big…" mutter, "… hard… stick." Pause. Then a hiss that's not really a hiss: "Isn't that our job?" To have the hard… sticks?

Dhioth just wants to fly. C'mon, Elicheritath, put your wings around me, baby. Dance a little stranger (shit son, could she dance any stranger, really? She's a freaking dragon modeled off a spid… uh.) Dhioth just wants to fly. Provided nobody steals his sunshine, because that shit is the WORST. He is supposed to be of the light, not of the dark, and when people go around klept'ing CELESTIAL LIGHT SOURCES, it kind of fucks up his grove, y'know? Dark wings kiss the air, and he strives unworried by Elicheritath's genre-shifting ways. He's stoic. All will be resolved by the end of the son… flight. Unless someone really did steal his sunlight. Fuckers.

A racing heart of golden spinner-web'd dreams shoots past Sekhaenkath, causes the bronze to veer and tumble. Brilliant feet wink-wink as the dark shadows of black dragon-glass of his body hide-and-mask his brightness. He is hell bound for the spinner queen, pushing to his limits, as of yet untested. He doesn't care if Monday's blue, Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too; Thursday, he doesn't care about you, but Friday — tonight — he's in love. 'Neath the twinkling stars and velvet-night-sky and corny lyrics. Talons flash, wings swoosh and tail whips. It's time for LOOOOOVE.

Yules is no Barbie girl, dressed in plastic. She ignores El'ai's look entirely, even if he's pretty fly for a white guy; Bailey's brother. C'mon. She ducks a stick that may not even be in her direction, but Yules hisses back to her wingmate, "Yes, unless she has one first." Says the stickless one, in any meaning. K'ane gets an annoyed look just because, and then N'zi, an uncertain one. But back to Tuli - hey, girls gotta stick together right? Except Yules is definitely going to avoid getting brained. So, keeping her mouth shut now.

Zateriyath just wants Eli to surrender all her loving to him; tonight he's gonna set her free. Girl, he's gonna get it started — if he can keep track of her, that is. The argent-wash of his wings stutters as she drops out of sight, but he can get low, low too. Right now. Tonight he's gonna set you free, make love in the skies, do anything you wanna; let your body talk, Elicheritath. Set your body free.

"Only I," says Tuli, more than a little maniacal, "can have a big hard stick here." She thrashes out with it again - possibly there's just enough of everyday Tuli left in there that K'ane and N'zi are the bulk of the targets. Yules and El'ai are INNOCENTS, after all. The demand is considered, and then made: "HAND OVER ANY STICKS YOU HAVE. ONLY I CAN HAVE ONE. Only I -" her dark eyes gleam, horribly, and it's a decent question which half of the gold pair is the more terrifying at the moment "- can slam dunk the funk."

Desmeth was all certain he was doing well, but suddenly there's a bzzt beneath him, and Desmeth looks down, then tries to drop as quickly as possible, only to have been suckered in. Aww, you and me baby ain't nothing but mammals (except they aren't), so let's do it like they… wait. He bugles his dismay, but starts pushing to catch up, even if his wings are starting to tremble a little as they raise for the next stroke of air.

K'ane stares at Tuli for a long moment and then starts to untie the knot at his PJ-pants. "Listen, just remember that y' asked for me t' give it to you." He ain't no scrub, y'dig? He's not going to wait for a century of lonely nights when … admittedly skinny bony-ass Tuli is there to be BONED. "C'mon," he coaxes, his voice a dark laugh. "I can rub you th' right way." It's a taunt. "Your body's sayin' let's go." He even takes a step closer, one hand on the top of his pants. WHAT. SHE TOLD HIM TO GIVE HER HIS STICK. He may not be a genie in a bottle, but he can make her wish come true tonight.

"Tell me what to do now," N'zi says, brusque in a way that says it's trying very hard not to be plaintive, "when I want you back—" What, no. He looks more than a little bit alarmed: at the stupidity falling out of his face and also at the insane goldrider he inexplicably wants thanks to his dirty traitor of a lifemate. She's no good for you, N'zi. K'ane isn't the only one with the same idea: the shorter bronzerider veers closer, one hand on the ties of his pants, the other raised to ward off Tuli's big stick.

Elicheritath may run - from Dhioth - and she may hide - how did she get underneath Zateriyath like that, and not in the good way, in the sudden SPIDER creepy sort of way - when you're screaming her name. But let her tell you, as she blows right past poor Desmeth, it's all too clear there are prices to fame, alright. All her time is spent in flashes of light (her terrible shining EYES, perhaps, as they gleam at Sekhaenkath, before he too is left in the dust). Can't you all see how your love is affecting her reality?

Elicheritath may run - from Dhioth - and she may hide - how did she get underneath Zateriyath like that, and not in the good way, in the sudden SPIDER creepy sort of way - when you're screaming her name. But let her tell you, as she blows right past poor Desmeth, it's all too clear there are prices to fame, alright. All her time is spent in flashes of light (her terrible shining EYES, perhaps, as they gleam at Sekhaenkath, before he too is left in the dust). Can't you all see how your love is affecting her reality?

The end of this music video is nigh, drawing a faint drift of sound from El'ai's voice as he comes to the bridge: "Is he for real?" The younger boy points towards K'ane, and then N'zi and swallows hard. He's pulled towards Tuli, though the buffer of flight-driven emotions is wide between him and his lifemate, sheltered to the end. "… Larger than life," the Southerner mutters, drawn to a strange woman like no other. "I ONLY HAVE MY PENIS AND YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT." The 80s are broken, guys. This is El'ai; foot-in-mouth.

Forget the 80s, forget the cheesy lines; Sekhaenkath's got his flash on, it's true. He needs that picture of you, it's so magical. You know I'll be your papa-paparazzi. The spider's web is brushed aside with proverbial whiskers, the cat at play for the prey that eludes. The bright gleam of her eyes is nothing against the desire for the ultimate, song-winning prize. Lithe, nimble, the foreign bronze is more than man enough to chase. More than male enough to be her biggest fan — and to get her out of the dumb 90s.

Sticks? Sticks? Yules eyes Tuli warily, but the mssage doesn't seem to be for her. Desmeth's exhaustion is starting to make her lag a little because it still takes her a few moments to realize what El'ai's blurted out. Annnnd facepalm. Yules stumbles back a pace, gritting her teeth in frustration. She understand just why she and Tuli can't be lovers, but Yules is trying too much and she can't win, so she lets it go, sagging to her knees.

Dhioth wants it all, or NOTHING AT ALL. Come on, Elicheritath. Are we really just all friends? Don't make him break down like a hyper-emotional pre-pubescent boy band (give it a few years, it'll come out that all of them are FABULOUSLY gay and suddenly all the hysterics MAKE SO MUCH SENSE) with such great lyrics like 'I had the rest of you, now I want the best of you, it's time to show and tell'. The only showing and telling is Dhioth's… oh baby baby. Hit him one more time, Elicheritath.

"I don't - do - DON'T WANT YOUR PENISES," says Tuli. Yowls Tuli. There are goldriders who can do this with dignity, sexy dignity: she does this with violence. K'ane comes perilously close to a crutch to the dick. "I," she rants, "want," she raves, "your sticks." Again, the crutch swings. This time she looks weirdly apologetic about it, like there's been a tiny flash of self-awareness, until the mania sets in again. "OOPS." SWING. "I DID IT AGAIN."

If Elicheritath's alone and she need a friend, someone to make her forget her problems - just come along baby take Zateriyath's … tail, he'll be her lover tonight. Boom, boom, boom. He wants to spend the night together; from now until forever. Or at least until she kicks him off her ledge, anyway. Or maybe hers: spend the night together, together in her room?

Each wing stroke trembles slightly and Desmeth's tail starts flagging. He pushes, pushes, as the taunting faint rattle of spidery senses brushes him again, but he can only wonder, how it feels, when Eli treats him like she does. With a last dismayed bugle, Desmeth starts to peel away. He still finds it so hard to say what he needs to say, but he's running out of lines to do the spinnarette dance with, so he'll go lick his wounds, rest his wings, and head to his ship in the harbour - home.

Everybody's got something they had to leave behind. Like, say, Elicheritath and her suitors. They're just one regret from yesterday that seems to grow with time, you know? There's no use in her looking back or wondering how it could be now or might have been - and yet. All this she knows, but still she can't find ways to let them go. Or falling back into the pack, taunting them. A mis-step, a tiny bit too slow - someone's about to have a dream come true.

Well, that's unfortunate: N'zi dodges to avoid the swinging crutch and loses hold of his pants, and there's his stick for everyone to see; he does, at least, make the effort to duck down and retrieve his pants, but. "WELL WE ONLY HAVE OUR PENISES, GOLDRIDER," is his rejoinder. Sometimes, the feeling is right: you fall in love for the first time. Other times, there's a raving goldrider swinging a crutch, and an excess of bronzerider dick.

Dhioth knows Elicheritath's been hurt before. That's why there's so much to leave behind. But it's okay, he's not like them. AUGH FINE, no build up, forget that shit. The lyrics are dumb anyhow. IT'S GOING TO BE ME DAMMIT. IT'S GOING TO BE ME. …unless it's not. But in case Elicheritath doesn't like it in the light of day, it's okay, because just like night Dhioth is creeping up, angling through the pack with a certain sweet cunning to his wings, a pretty-boy cast to his features and a cocky cant to is swag, reaching to seal the deal. That's right. Just like if Dujour had Backstreet's babies, Dhioth will totally be Elicheritath's back door lover and rock her body right.

The final push, the final road. Sekhaenkath's wings push him after Elicheritath, dodging Dhioth and Desmeth, driving him round 'about to the critical moment. Towards that slight misstep, tumbling towards her. You say you want a revolution, well you know we all want to change the world — let Sekhaenkath change your world. The bugling of sound is reminiscent of even older beats that drive a different heart. Don't you know it's gonna be alright? Alright, alright. You tell me it's the institution, well you know. You had better free your mind, because Sekhaenkath is angling for the win. And that comes with an El'ai. Did we forget to mention that that boy's a VIRGIN?

"But that's all the stick I have! IT'S MY BIGGEST STICK!" El'ai wails right back at her, channeling an inner, long-distant relative with the strength of stride that carries him away from Yules — who is competition now. "The way you flip that stick gets me overwhelmed but it's when you yell at the ground it ain't hard to tell — baby you light up my world like noBODY else!" Angry yelling? Lustful yelling? Pupils dilate as the full effects of Elicheritath's lust, Sekhaenkath's lust, nearly overwhelm and suddenly he is there. Aaaaaaand in the wrong decade, but today's boy bands are no less corny and it's El'ai after all.

Alright, this 'on her knees' thing while there's a lot of dick-waving happening has Yules pushing herself back to her feet, with a nearly desperate, "I have no stick!" in the same way Picard declared there are four lights! They were nearly a boy-band, on TV, in space, right? El'ai's gotten away from her and Yules grinds her teeth a little. but as she weaves with post-flight crash exhaustion, Yules is relegated to observer.

K'ane states companionably enough, "You know, if she shows us the meaning of being lonely," with a glance over to El'ai and N'zi, "We could…" That's right. He's totally suggesting a wonderwall over here. IT'S BY OASIS, IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE.

Honey is sweet but not as sweet as Elicheritath (dum de da de da). Zateriyath will come pick her roses: he strains toward her mis-step, it's admissable, so touchable — she is, at any rate. The only thing he says is (dum de da de da); come to him, baby, please fulfill his wish. Don't take his roses away, Elicheritath: make Igen babies all night long.

(dum de da de da)

An old wher turned nighty-eight. He won the lottery, and died the next day. A black fly in your Chardonnay - a death row pardon two minutes too late. Alanis Morissette writing a song about irony that clearly doesn't understand the distinction between 'irony' and 'things that are unfortunate'. For example, it is ironic that Elicheritath's feint away from Dhioth lands her all too close to another. But it's UNFORTUNATE that poor El'ai is about to be initiated to manhood in a completely terrible way, because Elicheritath just landed in Sekhaenkath's embrace. ISN'T THAT IRONIC.

Don't you think?

Tuli could definitely use a death row pardon at the moment. "Oh COME ON, he's like SIXTEEN." But flight logic is what it is. She's got other things on her mind at the moment.

N'zi's "Oh, thank Faranth," is about as flattering as any and all of his commentary on Elicheritath's size, and just as misconstrued. That's okay, though. He loves girls who love boys who love boys like they're girls, or — something. (He really doesn't.) But K'ane, hey, buddy.

Lacking the youthful fallacies of his rider, Sekhaekath finds himself suddenly with an armful of that GOLDEN, METALLIC, GRAMM— No? Not a grammy? EITHER WAY, they're going DOWN baby. Sekhaenkath's back!

"I am eighteen," El'ai is already making a play for Tuli — SHE IS HIS — and her clothes. "Faranth, girls have so many… clothes." Really, it's the last intelligible thing before awkwardness ensues. NO ONE'S HAVING A GOOD TIME… 'cept the dragons.

K'ane has exactly ZERO problems ending up with N'zi, because he's already starting to do something with his pajamas and moving towards the other man before — "Ugh, shit man, let's get out of here." Because watching El'ai thrashing his virginity out on Tuli would make him feel like a CREEP. Plus, at least he can't IMPREGNATE N'zi.

Someone's going to have to tell Bailey. Yules stares at … No, don't stare at El'ai's… Okay, maybe just an eyeful… But sobriety sets in, and Yules groans. Not the good groan either, but the one that's followed by, "I need a drink…" Where's that wine store she keeps hearing so much about?

Everything is wrong, that's for sure: N'zi's life is a little bit like a country song. (At least one particular country song, anyway). "Hmmmnh?" is very articulate, because his pants are already nominally— "Oh," yeah, no, that's definitely some freaky friday shit going on: he eyes the El'ai/Tuli (what the heck is wrong) mess, then agrees with a hasty, "right behind you." Or in front of, he's not picky. He is, however, out of here.

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