====September 1, 2013
====Aaron, Br'er, Hannah, Jesha, K'ane, Katarina, NPC-K'shi, Th'seus, NPC-T'ron, Yulena

====Dhiammarath rises; many chase and many watch! The winner: Vossuth!

Who Aaron, Br'er, Hannah, Jesha, K'ane, Katarina, NPC-K'shi, Th'seus, NPC-T'ron, Yulena
What Dhiammarath rises; many chase and many watch! The winner: Vossuth!
When There is 1 turn 4 months and 3 days until the 12th pass.
Where Docks, Feeding Pens, Southern Weyr

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docks.jpg

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Docks
In dark morn and dusky eve fog lies grim and humid against the still waters of Azov Sea. Only the noontime sun burns away the concealing clouds of man's height, revealing that which lies beneath the mist- an awe-inspiring stone pier that stretches far into the inland sea, to the east of the line of orderly boat-slips for the locals and larger, open spaces for transport ships. Fishermen are often as common as seagulls upon the pier's length in particular, ill-concealed and ill-clothed in the loose dun homespun of Southern's natives.
It is Winter and 70 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
On the perch is Rosanthi.
Obvious exits:
Boardwalk Seacraft Stone Complex Sea Lane


-- On Pern --
It is sunset
It is 5:57 PM where you are.
There is 1 turn 4 months and 3 days until the 12th pass.
It is Winter and 70 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.



** Hannah just set the @party! Type @party to check it out! **
Hannah's torturing of Southern's population of male riders is coming to a close, as Dhiammarath's heated touch finally rises to a fever pitch! That's right: Pern's largest gold is taking to the skies, and all chasers, NPC and PC alike, are encouraged to join in! addcom veil=Dance Of Veils and @go sw, we, road, boardwalk, docks to join in on the fun!
  — entered by Hannah on 2013-09-01 18:07 MOO Time. (3 seconds)


feeding_pastures.jpg

Dhiammarath> Feeding Pastures
Dhiammarath> Up the side of the mountain, stone fences mark the lines of the different parts of the feeding pastures. Bovines, woolies, ovines, caprines, herdbeasts; they are all collected here, dotting the hillside in lazy repose to stand stark against the brilliance of the green pastures. Rich, rich grass grows here, fed by the humidity and tropical climate. The sounds here are a blend of bleating, baying, and the thundering of many steps as the different herds move about. Occasionally, the whiff of something foul is carried downwind from the collection of animals that serves as the weyr's food supply.
Dhiammarath> It is Winter and 63 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
Dhiammarath> Bronze Dhioth and brown Sevareth are here.
Dhiammarath> Obvious exits:
Dhiammarath> Fenced Pens



Afternoon has fallen to dusk, and dusk is creeping upon the final stages of twilight. Overhead the stars peek out against the velvet night sky, as western sky lights with the deep blue of shaded turquoise. Rukbat's last gift to the day before night fully claims. Belior and Timor hang high in the vast vale of the night, shining their cool, silvery light down to Pern — and Southern — below. The waters of the Azov sea lap quietly against the creaking wood of the docks, shining a silvery wet beneath the full moon's kiss. Hannah stands, at the end of the longest dock, prepared. Enough notice has been given to know when her lifemate's time has come; enough that she's dressed for sultry tantalization. A dress of delicate webbing, covering just enough to be acceptable and leaving just enough pale skin in view for the purpose of enticement. Pale, moonlight hair hangs around her shoulders and tumbles down her back. Finally, the end has come.

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath has been roused from her dusk-dreaming slumber to enjoy the relative warmth of the winter twilight — though her own heat is more than sufficient to balance the coldest, freezing midnight of High Reaches. She is here, now, focused and eager, the lust radiating off her glowing hide like heatwaves off banked coals; she is the ember, the stuff of banked desire, and the herdbeast she takes in one silent swoop is the fresh kindling to light her lanterns to fevered-pitch. The dual moons light her in shadows and grace, veiling her perfection under the shadows of mantled wing.


Aaron arrives from the general direction of the living caverns with a small group of people that were there, Katarina amongst them. The rider and the Smith were sharing a table, and now they show up at the docks together. "Well, this ought to be interesting, at least," he comments as he makes his way along the familiar pier. "Will Xenokkarath be chasing Dhiammarath up?" he asks, knowing these oldtimers have strange ideas about flights…

Dhiammarath senses that Hannah is grounded in the firmament of the earth, the feel of molten earth shifting and moving beneath the jeweled sands of her lifemate's desert. « Blood. Only blood. » Her will is strong, for it'd have to be strong to hold Dhiammarath as she is now.


Jesha is fairly rakish tonight. Her hair is on point with its loose spikes, and her leathers soft and inviting looking (if musty). She's got one hand in her pocket and the other one is resting on her cane (I love that album), which appears to have once been ornately carved but now just looks interestingly bumpy. Feeling her swagger, she notices the appealing silhouette on the pier and, turning on her heel, makes a limping beeline for the curve of hip and peek of shoulder. "Hey there, everything okay, ma'aaaaah, hey Hannah!" Jesha's pants are now confused. "I didn't realize it was you out here. Heh." Poor pants.

Personally, Br'er would have picked somewhere different: somewhere with less chance of accidental drenchings, for a start. Maybe that's why he's here, though: to be a lifeguard. Make sure no one DROWNS. (Except in lust — that's perfectly natural and wholesome.) The greenrider comes shadowing a trio of burly bronzeriders, his hands folded neatly behind his back. He's just here to spectate, yo.

K'ane was here JUST for Aikari to see her mom. Dammit. And then Dhioth had to go get himself all twitterpated over a big shiny butt. Uh, no offense, Hannah. "Faranth," comes his moody, Paradisian-accented gloomy mutter; "Ain't anyone got any liquor?" He has his flask, of course, but that's …. that's not going to last enough. He eyes over to Hannah a time or two, with the mien of a man who has looked at something once or twice in speculation and is forced to look yet again.

Katarina shakes her head. "He wants too…" And even then her cheeks are just a little flushed, a little more pink than usual. She looks distant for a moment, longer than a moment actually. "It's hard keeping him down. But I don't want him chasing until we are sure of our place here."

Enter K'shi, the man still dons his Igen duds, so skinny even his black tights barely find the skin beneath to cling to. Long strides bring him thus, every bend of the knee and exaggerated angle, as he all but dances down the peer. Long slender hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, even as pieces of hay fall to the ground displaced by the digits, a soft little sung hum, and every few paces a little hop-kick to his step. There is something missing, some deep longing, and there is only one who can fix it. And so he's off to see — - Hannah, as he follows the wooden path of the pier.

You sense Dhiammarath is the rage and the hunger, the might and the lust… oh the lust. She battles Hannah, the instinctive drive for sating that hunger balancing against the yearning of the skies, and velvet air against her sails.


Aaron mmmms softly at the response, barely audible. A hand reaches into a pocket, and out comes a rather large, shiney metal flask. Oh dear, it seems the Smith has been playing with his still again. The top's opened and he takes a swig, lips not touching the metal. "I must be missing something," he says in response, "I rather thought that these flights were pretty much a 'come as you are' event." Soooooo he spends a lot more time in his forge then paying attention to politics and whatnot. That's a good thing, right? "Here, care for a taste? Careful, it's a little strong."

Dhiammarath> Dhioth was visiting, see, his rider having brought the spawn to see her mother. And now he is a balanced presence in the skies ending a herdbeast's life with the simple logistics of his massive weight against the frail thing, head snaking to blood, and blood deep. There is justice in this, life's thirsty enterprise of karma, blood spilt in the gloaming in the creation of the perfect supernova: new life.


Yulena wanders onto the docks, her shoulders loose and at ease until she is swept up into the crowd. The naturally red-faced cook was just trying to enjoy the first day of sunshine and now this. Harrumph. She steps out of the way as best she can, ending up close to a knot of people she's not familiar with, so she glares at them. Gerroff, you. Even despite her height, Yulena's looking up for familiar visages, or anyone she knows. "Have you see…" she starts asking the person next to her but shakes her head. Fergeddaboutit, "I'll look myself." So the cook starts poking through the looser crowd. Sometimes, literally, poking people in the side.

Katarina takes the flask with a slight look of worry in her eyes. She takes a swig from it, lips coming close t the rim but not exactly touching. Her face flushes red and she lets out a slight cough, but seems otherwise unaffected by the brew. "Thanks…" Though her voice sounds like her throat burns. "Wow… what is that Aaron?" She asks, tapping at her chest and fanning her shirt as the heat of it runs through her.

Dhiammarath> Kerifth was here already when the shining gold landed upon the pens, he was here to eat. At least in theory, but he hadn't quite worked up the nerve to slay a beast yet. Skirting around the edges of the gated area as more dragons arrive. Oh, woe is him, did he just wet himself? Perhaps a bit, but he only watches as the others blood. Perhaps just one, a taloned claw swats at a beast who while fleeing another dragon had little fear of the bronze toward whom he was running. Luckily claws stick in just the right places, and his lidded eyes are opened upon a kill. Victory. Cowardly, cowardly victory. And he begins to drain, who wouldn't want this dazzingly specimen of masculinity?


So many people, pressing upon the docks towards their intent: Hannah, and by proxy, Dhiammarath. She battles the gold as she battles the people crowding towards the long finger of wooden boards that serves to choke the males back. Whether the rider is male or female, they are all males. "Back," she warns, husky voice laden with warning but her attention is split two ways, eyes narrowing as she unerringly finds the direction of her lifemate's blooding. "No…" a curl of whisper is the smallest vocalization of the struggle before her green gaze snaps back to the riders. The non-riders, Aaron, Yulena, and others that have appeared, are given a cursory look. Br'er's given a quick, almost grateful look but attention rests on the others. "Stay… back." K'ane can suck it, Dhia's bit butt is not that big. Jesha, "Jesha… you too." Back. Warmth of times past may lurk in her eyes for the dearest of old friends, but for now, Jesha is the challenger.

Dhiammarath senses that Hannah's mental reminder is the whiplash of desire, of heated touch, and of a sky that looms far above. « Blood. Only blood and the higher you will climb! » A lure, yes, but demand and command hold within the cracked earth to expose the molten, heated core beneath. Still waters run deep within this girl.

Dhiammarath> Sevareth lurks. Attractively. Well, maybe. He's pretty old, but you can't say that dragon is not a silver fox of the first degree. He makes no motions to join in the feasting (indeed, his gullet looks plenty rounded and well fed. You know, despite his rock hard abs?), content instead to eyeball his childhood friend with the whirling facets of a stranger, though eventually, after thought, the dusty chocolate of this stud flashes through the minds of the others: « You're purdy. » Smooth, baby.

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath is nothing but strife-filled for a moment, so very unusual for her typical composure: but there is the battle of wills being waged, and for stakes so very high. She yields to the external demand rather than the internal compulsion, however, vicious-strike viper-strike taking the herdbeast at the neck, blood pooling and streaming as a thousand rivers across her muzzle as she drinks deep. Her tail lashes, to-and-fro, a felinoid expression of her last remaining qualms with this course of action; in the same breath, she's dragging her carcass back and towards a corner, covetously, whirling eyes glaring challenge at those amassed to try her in the skies… All of those. Even Sevareth.


Despite warning, Jesha still pulls the hand out of her slacks (whoa) and reaches her fingertips towards Hannah, but it falls after a moment. "Ooo-kay," she drawls, going so far as to half-shuffle back a pace. "Is everything okay? I mean I think I told you 'bout the goldriders we had at 'Reaches. Y'all not 'bout to do a crazy thing, are you? Like jump or try t'gut someone or are you just wantin' to yell cusses?"

Aaron chuckles a little at the flush, grinning. "Just a little something I make in my down time. The last batch was mango, I still have a few bottles of that if you'd like to try it sometime." A familiar voice is heard, and he turns, spying Yulena. He waves her over, smiling. "Kat, Yulena. Yulena, Kat." Hooray introductions. They've made it about halfway down the pier, and Aaron pulls up to a stop. "I /think/ maybe we oughta hang back a bit…" he says, eyeing Hannah over the top of the crowd.

Dhiammarath> Vossuth was quick to catch on to the gold finally rising. She'd been teasing, torturing the entire Weyr for so long now. It seemed almost longer than he could remember back, as if it's been an enternity of wanting. The beasts in the pen call to him first for now, a primal urge driving him to land in their midst and scatter them into a panic. He catches the first fat animal that risks running past too close, his dappled bronze wings spread high to the sky. It's as much out of need as it is for show, to let Dhiammarath know just how broad they are, how long and how well they're going to catch the wind when she finally takes to the skies.


K'ane jerks around in the press of people, bulling up suddenly versus a very leering bronzerider of Benen: and in a moment things shift from a little growling to a junkyard fight. A jeer goes up in the crowd, as two respective bronzeriders of out-weyr draw eachother to the edge of the docks, and then over into the water. The fight doesn't stop, there, either… and now bets are being laid. Go. Figure.

It is a futile effort for K'shi, his bronze probably won't even get up the gall to chase. "What are we supposed to do?" He sways his long body unnaturally far to one side, and then the other as he gazes, "Stare at you?" Poor lad, if he only had a brain.

It's awfully lucky that T'ron and Brunanth arrived when they did, bringing the cold of both 'Reaches and Between with them to war with Southern's hospitable warmth. Dark rider and dark bronze sweep lower and lower, until a hasty landing ends by the rider hurriedly dismounting and heading toward… the most likely crowd. No flight newbie, this one. He smells blood, and Brunanth is no different as he takes off again, heading toward the feeding pastures and the glowing gold.

Dhiammarath> Dhioth was blooding one moment and drawing ichor the next: the contender from Igen is taking himself out, with an outweyr challenger from Benden; there's hissing and ichor and snarling at ground-level, herdbeasts fleeing the scene of the corner of the pens where chaos reigns.


"Best do as the lady tells you," rasps Br'er, sympathetic, faintly amused. "Or she'll drown you." The greenrider takes Hannah's look as de facto permission to… not intrude, exactly, into her territory, but elbow through the group and take up a post towards the front of the milling horde, languid and lazily interested. There's a faint glazing, that telltale sign. Maybe he's really here to convey messages. And do literally NOTHING about the BRAWL in the waters. Except lean over, and take a good look at their wet clothing. Or, er. The contents of the wet clothing, anyway.

Th'seus has enough sense to not show up and directly crowd the shit out of Hannah here on the docks, especially given the mass of people that seem to think this may actually be a good idea. It doesn't take long for the substantially sized rider to push his way through a pair of out-weyr brownriders and insert himself into the middle of things. "Best get the fuck out of her way, so she can get off these docks and back to the weyr. Without you all grabbing at her and sucking away her air." There's a faint hint of 'or else'. Or else Th'seus is going to knock heads, seems to be the underlying message here.

Yulena has finally found who she was looking for, and gives a little smile, "Pretty crowded here, I see." She eyes the flask and mms, "That's probably the best idea." She eyes the number of sheer /men/ in the area, and then the women, including Hannah. "I'm very glad this is happening now," Yulena says, "Couldn't have picked a nicer day for it."

Katarina nods in agreement at Aaron and smiles at Yulena. "Well met Yulena." She offers a hand in greeting. The fight is met with a surprised look and she can't help but giggle when the threat of knocking heads is thrown around. In between events she seems to be struggling with her lifemate mentally.

Dhiammarath> Kerifth gloats, did you see what he did? Truly a normal feat for any other dragon, but when sometimes has to have their rider do it, like when there aren't any really old ones -the kind that fall over dead when they see the dragon land, well he can't just help but strut. Wings flaired, sashay happen' yah. He did that. He showed that vegetarian who was boss. And now he's ready for the bigger prize. He thinks. Maybe.


Not even K'ane getting into the tussle with the other bronzeriders and falling head over into the waters phases Hannah, beyond a laugh of cackling glee. Lest the males around see Br'er as something less than what his inclusion is, her voice whips out, strained. "I will drown you, so you'd best listen to the one man on this dock that can even think to get close." Green eyes narrow even when Th'seus comes to play; he will not curry favor so easily if that be his ploy. "You there, bronzerider — //blood, Dhiammarath, blood — think you can take them out?" A sway of her petite form, the spider-silk dress of smoke-and-coal easily aids in the impression that she's woven of moonlight and mists, has her stepping up the long dock, feet bare, to call out to K'shi. "Yes. You stare and desire. You fight for what you must win." A directive? Perhaps. Only the strongest, most predatory male will win. For her, she sees only the riders. Br'er can handle everyone else. "Jesha," sultry tone a caress, as eyes rake over T'ron, "Do you distract us with dire words?" Everyone, everyone is a challenger!

Dhiammarath senses that Hannah yells with everything she has, pain woven with command. « BLOOD, DHIAMMARATH, BLOOD. THEN FLY. FLY!! »


Aaron passes the flask over to Yulie, finding a handy piling to lean against and just watch the show. Th'seus's dire threats just get a grin from the Smith, then his attention is drawn back over to Yulena. "It is nice to finally see Rukbat again…" he says, trailing off with a little smile for the cook. Hehe.

Understanding dawns in Jesha's eyes and, though she actually manages not to smirk, her eyes take on a twinkle as she raises her free hand, palm outwards and fingers spread in the universal sign of backing down. "No no, just asking," she replies mildly, looking over to Br'er and waggling her eyebrows. Th'seus, too, gets looked at after this, Jesha's neck craning further to give him a smile and a brief thumbs up. "Good call."

Dhiammarath> Brunanth is a killer on the outskirts, snagging a poor beast who was only trying to escape the others, unwittingly heading straight for the dark bronze. It's an easy thing to catch, and soon the animal's blood is darkening the 'Reaches dragon's snout to glimmering ink as his wings spread wide, shading his kill. Whirling eyes are focused on Dhiammarath, and little else.


It's hardly even a question. At least it's hardly a question to him. Whether or not he can take out the ones that crowd the dock like creeping lurches, hoping to strike out at her when Dhiammarath takes off. So the answer to it is simple enough, "Yes." But rather than look at Hannah when he gives it, it's directed at the pair of brownriders he'd recently stepped around with a definite growl as he straightens out his shoulders. And now it's towards them, to push them back (if not completely away, they're not running for the hills out of fright quite yet) and fulfill that promise he'd made.

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath cannot wait. It only takes the blood of one beast to set her embers alit. Fresh life's-blood is as good as red-bull: it gives one wings. Or, well, Dhiammarath possessed those grand sweeps of sail, but mantling over her kill is a far cry from the graceful push of haunches up to air, those glittering sails catching the last dying gleaming of Rukbat's light and the full glory of twinned Belior and Timor. Now she is in the air: now she claims her birthright, and the unleashed intensity of her desire is loosened onto the weyr at large.

Dhiammarath> You fly up, up, up, into the skies.
Dhiammarath> Sky Over Outside Southern Weyr
Dhiammarath> Here thar be (less) dragons than before.
Dhiammarath> Obvious exits:
Dhiammarath> Pastures River Clearing To the Weyr Bowl Fields Above the Jungles Feeding Pastures Above the Sea Hillside Path Fly Clearing
Dhiammarath> You fly in from the Feeding Pastures.


Katarina is soon back to herself. She moves over closer to Yulena and Aaron. "Did I miss anything while I was arguing with Xenok?" She asks, eyes looking alightly unfocused still. She brushes her palms on her pants and looks around. Her hands tremble with the effort of keeping her brown down.

T'ron has lumped his riding gear into his jacket, which is dumped on dry sand before he approaches the crowd on the docks. He pushes past a pair of non-riders, not entirely seeing them as he nears Hannah. And others, too, though they are barely glanced at, lip curling into the smallest of sneers. "Oldtimers, rookies, pricks, and… women," he drawls, coming right up next to Jesha before he turns back to Hannah. "Tell me your ancients at least taught you how to choose decent mates."

Huzzah for being a greenrider! Huzzah for… not really counting as a man right now, apparently, and Br'er WOULD be insulted on principle. But that would take up too much energy! And, besides, there are hot wet dudes brawling mere feet from him, there are gold pheromones starting to work their mischief, and he is not made of stone. Br'er, distracted, makes idle shooing motions at the crowd. "Plenty of time to throw punches or figure out who you're banging, later. Patience, the lot of you."

What's scarier than a gold-rider yelling at you? Yulena gives Hannah a wary eye, nodding to Katarina, "Well met." She accepts the flask and takes a lonnnng swig of it. A headshake at Katarina, "Not terribly - arguing, warnings, so on." You know, the usual. A look to Aaron, and Yulena moves slightly closer to both, "What's this made of?" she asks curiously, "I can't place it." Since Aaron's brews are so varied and all.

Dhiammarath> Kerifth is so busy being proud of himself he misses the gold rise, what he doesn't miss is a bronze leaping towards him to become airborne, and well the bronze throws himself in the air just to not be bowled over, but then it is a tissy of excitement, and he's more or less forced into the chasing pack. Okay. Well. He's up here, and if he can just not fly too close to that brown. Oh Faranth watch out for the bronze! Then maybe he can catch, or at least not die! One has to set realistic goals after all.

Dhiammarath> Vossuth tosses the beast he's slain up into the air, just to display how flashy he can be. When it comes down again he sucks the remaining blood out of its carcass. If it's predatory Dhiammarath wants, she can look no further than him. He's a sleekly muscled dragonic raptor, prepared to cut through the sky like a well-honed knife after his target. That long awaited flash of gold catches his hunter's eye and he abandons the dead animal to the blood soaked grass of the pastures. Flinging himself upwards with a grace betraying the bulk of muscle he carries on his frame, the bronze pushes aggressively past some of the younger more inexperienced chasers. If they're knocked off course or hurt in some way, he's not going to claim responsibility for them.


It is interesting, isn't it? How one bronzerider is markedly absent, in this crush of humanity and draconic lust, a troublemaker, a rabblerouser, semi-reformed drunkard and full-time asshole: but it's entirely accurate, that Q'fex is nowhere to be seen.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Well, Sevareth's ascent into the lofty heavens is more like he threw himself at the ground and missed, but it's practiced and it gets the job done as fast as them young ones. Not as fast as he was the last time he tried to catch his glowing, golden contemporary, though. Much of his movements rely heavily on updrafts, on patient waiting at the outskirts of packs of contesting males rather than darting forward. Gotta conserve that energy there, old guy.

Aaron shivers a little at that first wash of emotion from the rising gold, the smile on his face going just a little broader then usual. "That's pretty much it, yeah," he agrees with Yulena. "Sweetner, mostly. And water and yeast. I got a good deal on some raw sweetner," he explains, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yulie, honey, we oughta be making our way, ah, home…" What? Aaron showing some sense? Where's the fun in that?

K'shi waggles his eyebrows at the goldrider, he isn't the aggressive type. Not normally. No his normal mode with the females, infuriate until they give in, is only amplified in the rising lustful tide. "I could watch you better from close up, baby." He might lack brains, but at least he has more balls than his dragon.

Dhiammarath> Brunanth is not caught off guard, but he takes his time joining the dance. One last lap of blood while the others scurry airborne. One last look at the golden prize, now on the other side of a dust cloud of brown and bronze. Calculating gaze takes in the direction and vector, then dropping the felled beast to the ground, Brune leaps upward, dark wings beating hard to carry him away. The back of the pack adds its own hazards, surely, but even if he's smaller than the glowing gold, he's still fast, and experience? Yeah, he's got that. Swerving to one side, he attempts the hard climb around the group, working intently until the flurry of wings is to one side, with nothing but clear air in front of him.


Br'er has been neutered by Q'fex, and is a greenrider besides. Someone who knows, and so Hannah uses him without compunction. He's here, he's not a male, and so when her bare feet draw her closer, the delicate fabric of lace-and-silk shifting with each movement to give glimpses of milky pale skin beneath the coal-and-shadows of the color, and her hand comes to rest against his back. Small form leans into the greenrider. A glitter of violence, blood-lust, and desire curls within the husky voice, "Prove it." Oh what? Br'er? Is he getting all the action? Holla. Pointedly, she teases the others. T'ron's words do not escape. "You have to be worthy to be chosen, bronzerider." And by her scathing look, the man isn't worthy. Jesha, jesha, jesha — even Hannah is hard pressed to see her as anyone other than her younger self, so long past. But even the brownrider is not spared the baring of teeth while — oh yes, Hannah runs a hand over Br'er's chest. The greenrider must have been paying too much attention to the hot dude squabble in the water. "Stay back!" Hissed, teeth clenched, to K'shi. Breath comes in gasps now, cheeks flushed, as Dhiammarath's flight affects her as much as the others. Momentarily distracted, her eyes lift to the heavens and the sparkle of starlight.

Katarina looks at Yulie and grins. She watches the goings on and is slightly saddened when Aaron mentions leaving, but, she sees the logical side to it. She is unfortunate enough to not have a partner for flight times. She smiles at the to briefly and continues watching.

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath is different, in the air: now she does not share her lifemate's furor at those who chase her; now she does not exist in that strange dichotomy of uncommon rage. She is once again herself, though the incense in her gardens are perfumed with opium, and her lazy spiraling upwards take the cadence of a dance. Sure, there are those who can push and those who can pull, but she is looking for grace, for surety of motion, for that sinking-claws musk of masculinity and the competent know-how of a partner who knows himself. She flies high and straight, driving onwards, ever onwards, the beat of wingstroke the tempo of the tempestuous tango.


Yulena's eyes widen briefly, shaking her head briefly, "Go?" she asks with a bit of confusion. Who would want to go? "Right now?" Hey look, alcohol, and Yulena takes another swig. Great idea - gold flight AND alcohol. Yeah, what's with that common sense anyway?

Bam. Jesha can't help it. "Wwwwow," she manages after a time, every bit of her smiling save for her mouth. And a bit at the edges of her gaze, which isn't NOT panicky. "Um, anything we can do for ya, doll, like, can we… move or get you some water? Or a Br'er, that's good too. Uh, do YOU need anything, Br'er or is this good?" Her question is accompanied by a small nod towards what's quickly becoming a body-cavity search right before everyone's eyes.

Dhiammarath> Kerifth is not a single ounce different in the air, well minus the fact that he no longer has his feet on the ground. A dragon afraid of heights? Maybe a little. But he has managed to straighten himself out and is flying in, at least, the general direction of the gold. He'd like that. Please. Less predatory and more, 'would you please move so I could have that shiny flying thing thank you kindly, the bronze manages to survive a little longer.


It's that first rush of emotion that Dhiammarath washes the weyr with, Th'seus is certainly not immune from it. He never was obviously, if he's there and his dragon has taken to the sky. But this is different, now they're in in. The approaching T'ron and K'shi are much more threatening now than the pair of riders he was originally pushing back. Afterall, they're so easily cowed and he can't be bothered to remain occupied with them now. It's the others that pull him back, "Back off." He growls at the two men, the more intent of the interlopers. For now he hardly notices Br'er, for whatever reason. Despite his closeness to the goldrider.

Br'er is, in fact, getting all the action. Br'er isn't entirely sure he WANTS to be getting all the action, yet there he is, reduced to a mortified (turned-on: Hannah might be thoroughly in the friendzone and his thing is more asshole bronzeriders but COME THE FUCK ON) stripper pole. Patience on a monument, he stands there, an obliging platform for sexy teasing. No one is allowed to remember this part in the morning.

Awashed with desire K'shi is no steady man, his lanky limbs barely enough to hold him up on a normal day. Like a drunk without bones, he oozes closer to Th'seus, an arm looping round his shoulders for support. A finger pushes into the giant man's chest, he's as tall perhaps, but a fifth of the girth. "Quite a dragon you have up there, sir." Woah! The man almost goes down, but recovers, by latching around the bigger bronzer's neck. "And that is quite a fox, over there." A slender finger poke poking in the direction of the gold.

"What are you, her serving wench?" T'ron asks Jesha while shouldering past. That done, he gives her a better look. "Oh wait… no. You must have been her wet nurse once upon a time. How sweet. Why don't you leave this to the men, grandma." He's then close enough to see the show put on by Hannah and Br'er. That gets a small snort, until he's distracted by K'shi. "Seriously?" Prince Charming, right here. Set prior to Beaty and the Beast.

Dhiammarath> Vossuth kicks it into high gear to follow after that blazing gold trail in the sky. This is where he's at home. With speed behind his powerful frame, the bronze unfurls his larger than average wings. What likely looked gangly and awkward on the ground is somehow not here, it's a testament to his natural state in the air. He's a bird of prey, he's a danger to things smaller and weaker than himself that are airborn. And now? Now he's scorching through the skies after this Dhiammarath that's leaving behind such an irresistable pull. A lure that calls to him to work harder.


Aaron gives Kat a smile, and hands her the still half-full flask. "Sorry, m'dear. I'll see you around though, hmmm? Have a /fun/ evening, and just send that by the Smithy when you're done with it." Yes, that leaves poor Yulie alcohol-deprived. "Yes love, we should go, right now." Because otherwise the rest of the Weyr might get quite the show, and he just doesn't love y'all like that.

Dhiammarath> Sevareth balks momentarily, a set of inner lids narrowing against the wind to give Brunanth a Look. Excuse you sir, this is HIS gimmick. Not that he stops his sort of sprint towards the fore, but for SURE he's giving the bronze a loooooong look, as if trying to figure something out. You could fry an egg on his cloud-dewed skull.


Katarina smiles. "Thanks! And I will take some of this if the offer still stands?" She takes the flask and takes a draw from it. She smiles at Yulena. "Have yourself a fun night guys. I'll probably spend mine alone, so have extra fun for me!" She gives a grin and goes back to watching.

Br'er, Br'er, Br'er the stripper pole. Hannah lets out a lusty giggle as she winds her way around the greenrider, yes boys. This is the green rider that's getting all the hot action, when Th'seus, K'shi, and T'ron start tangling together. The girls — Katarina being one of them — of the male dragons seem to hold onto some sensibilities. "Boys, boys… Jesha is no grandma. Jesha is…" The thought is lost, however, as something changes. A subtle flair that arrests Hannah's motions with her hands all over Br'er. Good boy, right? Over her shoulder, she glances back to the sky where a glowing flash of white-gold winks as the flight rises to new heights. The tempo changes, the goldrider twirling on the balls of her feet to push her back to Br'er's front. Cheeks flush, breathing comes in staggered staccato as the the culmination nears.

Dhiammarath> Meanwhile, Brunanth is still only giving cursory attention to the others. Of like mind or not. While some of the smaller browns start to lag, the bronze, in the prime of his life, is still climbing. But is he gaining? All those other wings make it hard work, but this isn't his first time, and it shows as the front of the pack starts to thin out, nature, luck and traffic weeding out the weaker contenders.


Really. Really this strange guy is looping his arm around his neck. Aggression having pushed out his normally even keel temper, Th'seus has virtually zero patience for K'shi attaching himself to his person. While just as tall the fact that he's much more slender means it's a bit easier for him to dislodge the other man. And it's really very unfair that he directs a closed fist punch directly to his face, given the amount of bang he's packing in that oversized arm of his.

Heeeeeey, Yulena's alcohol! She was just getting started, which is part of the problem. She gives Kat a little grin, "You'll be coming by?" Do dragons emit human pheromones? Blinking up, way up at Aaron, "Are you sure?" Somewhere nearby, Hannah is giggling lustily, and Yulena looks over and then back to Aaron and Katarina, "You're always welcome." Maybe that invite should get cleared in front of Aaron, but the cook is looking up at him with a small smile. "Hmm."

"Jesha is a great-grandma," Jesha replies, leaning slightly against the handle of her cane and… well, posing. She loves it. Then a wicked smile comes to her and, lazily, she turns her head towards T'ron. "Which is my excuse for m'dragon's technique up there. Dunno what yours is." Snap.

Katarina raises an eyebrow at Yulena's offer and risks a glance at Aaron. It was certainly an interesting offer. She grins widely at Yulena and laughs, a small tinkling sound. "I would gladly come by… If its not an inconvenience."

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath winds herself northerly, then cuts back in an abrupt one-eighty to wing towards the Sea of Azov, wingbeats steady and the flight starting to increase in tortuous speed. She has no care for Kerifth's fear of heights, Vossuth's drive, Sevareth's balk… though Brunanth's considerable experience seem to interest her for a moment of wafted-jasmine curiosity, before she repels from him in sudden realization of Outsider. They are all unworthy: unworthy of partnering her, unworthy of regard, and only one who distinguishes himself will manage to stay with her natural brilliance.


K'shi was in the process of saying "Bazinga…" When a GIANT fist lands in his face, the man flops backwards as if his joints were made of pudding, a backwards barrel roll and the man sprawls out on his back. Unconcious? No. A hand lifts in defiance. He's alive, damnit, though blood pours from his nose as his arms falls limply back to the ground.

Aaron blinks at the Words coming from Yulena, and is about to bodily pull her away, and that there's that response from the brownrider. Well then. He smiles wickedly, offering his other arm to Kat. "I certainly wouldn't call it an inconvenience, no. Shall we, though?" he asks. Between the goldmotions and the violence, he's getting more then a bit tense.

Let's not even pretend Br'er isn't getting into it. Sure, fine: it's the equivalent of two sorority girls making out for the amusement of a fratboy audience. But he's gold-horny, there's a hot goldrider all over him, and he has so totally forgotten that there's a literal crowd watching the display. The moment Hannah's movements change, as the goldfight above reaches for its inevitable conclusion, might be subtle on her part. It's not on his. There's only one way to interpret the expression on his face, even as his hands tighten futilely on her shoulders: :( Aw, c'mon, he was just getting into it!

Taking advantage of Th'seus and K'shi's tangle, T'ron sidesteps past them, leaving the children, women and would-be bodyguard behind. Oh look, Br'er and Hannah. "Still want proof?" he rumbles huskily, a knowing smile curving his lips. We'll just assume he's talking to Hannah, here.

Dhiammarath> Kerifth could distinguish himself, depending on what the means, he has made it the entire flight. That is a first, and thus distinguishing. Well almost the whole flight. And then his attention is shattered by something happening on the ground. Bronze wings freezing in mid swoop - so close was he to a marking something off his draconic bucket list, fishing a chase. But tonight will not the be night, as wings flaired his speed plummets, any dragons too close behind also driven off course, and so the dragon himself takes a nose dive toward land. No worries friends, he live to coward on another day.

Dhiammarath> Vossuth can follow it all. These are his skies and she's his prey, whether she cares to know it or not. Whether she cares to acknowledge how well he can cut his wings to accept the best that the wind has to offer, how well he can twist his bulk in the thermals and between the others. Or perhaps, she ignores too, how ruthless and cold he can be when encountering the other chasers along the way. They're inconsequential to him and he treats them as such. Insects, nothing more. A smash of his brawny shoulders here, a nip with his teeth or an assault with the cruelly curved talons of his back legs. However none of that cut-throat action will keep him from taking one breathless moment to hurl himself ahead of the back. To unfurl those great wings of his one more time to allow them to slow him, then help drop him, like a perfectly aimed stone from high above to land and catch Dhiammarath. If. He. Can.

Dhiammarath> Brunanth is momentarily sidetracked by a suddenly diving Kerifth. Dark talons just might rake toward the cowardly dragon as they pass in the air, but then Brune is once again fighting toward that gold, spurred onward even more when Dhiammarath practically teases him, coming tantalizingly close. A low, menacing growl emits as he swoops around another bronze, reaching, stretching, putting the last few ounces of strength into closing that gap.


As the nonriders begin to partways, Hannah's movements stilled against Br'er — sad stripper pole now — the look she gives T'ron is frantic. "No. No…" He's cheating! Slipping in while the others are distracted, and yet, above the challenge has been laid by her lifemate; the goldrider leans outward, but not quite losing touch with Br'er — her big teddy Br'er — and hisses, "You, you can try." To prove.

Dhiammarath> Bob. Weave. Tail dodge. The creak of Sevareth's wings calls out even over the bellowing of many sets of dragon lungs. His own breath makes large clouds in the atmosphere, left behind to become ghosts with that of his fellows. Kerifth's kerfluffle makes enough noise, though, to drown him out, to nearly involve him if it weren't for the instinctual extension of his wings, the easy glide he pulls into that yet takes him higher.


Distracted as he is by K'shi, he completely misses T'ron slipping past him. The bronzerider growls deep in his throat and gives the limply flailing man on the ground a disgusted look. He catches his breath just then to twist and turn to see that the other one has moved so close to Hannah. His expression tightens, just as Vossuth makes his daring downward plummet from the sky. That alone freezes the man into place and he tips his chin upwards to watch from below. The rest forgotten.

Yulena was totally ready to be led away, but then giggles slyly, holding out fingertips to Katarina, "Well, then." Unfortunately, the cook then looks over her shoulder, and ooohs, "A fight? Does that always happen?" Innocent cooks in not-innocent times. Then there's stripper-pole Br'er and… usually-respectable Hannah, "Does that usually happen?"

Katarina gives Aaron and Yulena both a winning grin before she has to visably, mentally scold her brown. Then she's back, the grin still in place. She takes another drink out of the flask and offers it to Yulena. She shrugs at Yulena's questions. "It does… or at least it did back in my time. Plenty."

"Nah, I think I got you figured out already," Jesha drawls, giving in fully to the pimp lean she's wanted to do and crossing her hands over the handle of her stick (why, yes, that IS all seasoned skybroom). Only the small grind the foot of it gives the wood of the dock betrays any irritation, a chip coming away at the drilling motion. As casually as she can, she turns to give the fistfight a cursory snicker before fully goggling at the rather fetching pair of Br'er and Hannah. "Wait, have you two ever thought 'bout making kids? 'Cause that would be some cute babies."

Aaron looks briefly over his shoulder. Violence and stripper poles. Yup. "Yeah, the ones that I've seen, it's pretty… normal. Now. Shall we?" And they're off, pushing against the crowd, the bulk that is Aaron forcing a path open and back to the Weyr and some modicum of privacy. Damn holdbred morals….

Dhiammarath> Dhiammarath hangs suspended, her moment in the dark-washed glory of twinned moons stretching eternal, eternal. There is a moment where it looks as though she would drop, drop, drop: drop far below, to the cool waters of the inland sea, to the dimming of her glory. But then there is one to catch her, one to buoy her strength, one to lend her a second wind and another hand on the floor: though his is the raptorial strength, and his is the predator's domain. Nonetheless, Dhiammarath will show Vossuth how it is to dance, in this lengthening sweep of sail and twined tail.



The skies make way for that which finally came: Dhiammarath's choice. Green eyes fall from the skies to the bronzerider paired with Vossuth. Br'er… is finally left alone, to slake his hunger with a Q'fex that surely will come to take care of his lollipop, right? T'ron is denied, K'shi is prone, and Jesha is finally graced with a soft look of times-gone-past, but Th'seus draws her like a lodestone, one hand coming up. Is T'ron still in the way?

Dhiammarath> Brunanth was so close. So close! But just as he's coursing near the hovering Dhiammarath, it's Vossuth she turns to, leaving Brune to glide mere feet above the twining two. Screaming his frustration, eyes glowing blood red against the darkness, he climbs higher, glaring sparks toward the pale gold. Then, it is to further darkness he speeds, leaving his rider to fend for himself for the time being.



Losing is so much sweeter when one is bleeding, and in pain. Oh no wait. It isn't. Don't mind K'shi he's just going to lay here and weep.

Poor Teddy Br'er. He just KNOWS, the moment his tenure as stripper pole/teddy bear/bouncer has ended. He knows, and he is sad :( For… about two seconds, before the wave of GOLDLUST proves a pretty solid distraction. He's off, pushing through the crowd, heading for something or another. That, yeah, was probably just imperiously SUMMONED from its hideyhole some distance Between. It's his turn to use someone as a stripper pole, damnit.

T'ron's knowing smile falters, then goes out when Hannah's gaze slides past him to Th'seus, while the bronzerider senses his lifemate's frustration above. With a dark glare of his own, he mans up and steps aside to let the bitch reach her sharding chosen one. "Figures," the 'Reachian mutters, giving the others scathing looks. Until they land on that grandma. And her cane. And her breasts. He doesn't bother giving voice to the obvious, instead gesturing to her with pointed finger, then to him with hooked thumb, then the Weyr with a lean of his head. In any case, he's heading that direction. Now. "Any sharding wine in this light-forsaken pit of a forgotten Weyr?" Again with the charm.

He'll step over the prone, sobbing body of K'shi if he needs to. And it's to T'ron's benefit that he got out of his way before he made him get out of his way. Th'seus seems to not be in the mood to take any hostages now that Vossuth has so solidly made his claim for him. Because at this point, he'll bulldoze over anyone that attempts to intercept his path Hannah. And while it's probably completely inappropriate to put his hands on her the way he's about to, here in public, goldflight or not, that's exactly what's going to happen. Granted, he'll try to actually get them off the docks before they're completely naked.

"Y'know, I think I have some of that and some bonin' in my weyr, if you just keep following me?" Sure enough, Sevareth glides in, ever the wingman, to provide a ride. Jesha, intentions clear, links a free arm through T'ron's and makes a quick-fast beeline for transport to quiet places.

Dhiammarath> Vossuth And while normally it's the losers that screech at the end of the flight, this time there's the decided sound of it coming from Vossuth himself. Of course it's more victorious than dejected and painful. But still. He sweeps against Dhiammarath's form, to provide her the second wind she needs and the strength to keep in the skies. While somehow allowing her to maintain that grace as he twines and tangles together with her.


And that, is that. Hannah might make a squeaking comment of, "…cove…" but realistically, the pair will be doing things wherever Th'seus can manage to land them. The endless days of proddy are done and the weyr may rest with the waves of heat emanating from the mating dragons. Rumors will start on just how far the bronze and gold will fall before they're done, and how large the clutch may be. For now? There are other matters to attend.
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