Who

Amani and Zymuraith, F'kan and Quaverilth, Va'os and Tsiroth, Ka'steel and Beyrunth (NPCs, puppetted by Pash), A'hali and Ohanaveth

What

Zymuraith finally takes to the skies for her second flight, drawing chasers from near and far.

Slightly backscened

When

It is evening of the 10th day of the 7th month of the 15th Turn of the 12th Pass.

Where

Living Caverns, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 19 Nov 2018 07:00

 

amani_default.jpg f-kan_default.jpg va-os_default.jpg a-hali_default.jpg
zymuraith_default.jpg quaverilth_default.jpg tsiroth_default.jpg ohanaveth_default.jpg

« In the end, it is all for me to judge. »


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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in a naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophobia. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about, candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next to the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the Weyr's youngest. The rich blue of the Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


It's winter, so it's been raining, the nights as overcast as the days. Some may have been wondering if a brightly-glowing Zymuraith has been deliberately trying to wait it out…which in turn has been driving Amani mad, naturally. Diving into her work and retiring in the evening in the company of a certain frequently-visiting holder's son has been her primary means of escape lately, with the young queen's insistence on waiting. And waiting. And finally there's a break in the clouds to reveal a rain-cleansed sky full of sparkling stars, and the waiting does, in fact, come to a close. Zymuraith wastes no time in bugling her intent to the entire Weyr a few candle marks after dinner, winging with great purpose toward the pens and choosing her prey with aplomb. Meanwhile, Amani is prowling the living caverns toward the Nighthearth…or so it would seem. Wavering between whether she wants to aim for somewhere warmer or to slip out into the chill of the Bowl.

Ever patient and vigilant, Quaverilth has been shadowing Southern's golden queen since her glow has been steadily creeping brighter, much to the chagrin of the brown's rider who's had to deal with a heavily distracted lifemate these past sevens. When Zymuraith finally makes her intent known, Quav's not far and follows directly towards the pen, wasting no time in taking down a largish herdbeast, and blooding his prey hungrily. Being a brown, he knows he's going to need the extra energy if he's to have any chance at all at the golden beauty. F'kan on the other hand is striding into the Living Caverns, buzzing with the excitment pulsing through to him from his lifemate, body tensed as he scans the area with bright blue eyes before catching sight of Amani. "Weyrwoman," he nods respectfully in her direction, although forgoes the salute at this time.

Want to know who else has been waiting out a certain gold? Tsiroth. He's not been too over the top with his conversations (or attempts of), but on this particular evening, the bronze has been keeping a sharper eye on the young gold. All while feigning to be 'dozing', though anyone touching on his mind would get a hint of 'elevator music' soundtrack. At last, the call is given and Tsiroth is on his feet, wings flaring and stretching. « Show time! » he crows delightfully and launches skywards to follow the rest of the exodus to the feeding pens. Va'os was going to enjoy a quiet evening but that's soon thrown aside as he's all but deafened mentally by the barrage of musical choice from his bronze. Sighing wearily, he'll veer course and head for the living caverns instead ? the number one first choice of locations to scout before he braves the outdoors in an attempt to figure out where Amani may (or may not) be.

The news of an open gold flight brings plenty of dragons from across Pern to come visit Southern Weyr. Ka'steel and Beyrunth both arrived a few days ago and were anxiously waiting for the moment of truth. A Bronze, Beyrunth, is built like a burnished metallic engine with orange and red undertones along his belly as if a fire burned within him. Thread has scored this proud bronze numerous times but only shallowly. Scars trace down the bronze's back and etch out furrows in wings. The rider is no less mangled, a pittering of threadscore upon his cheeks and his leather riding jacket has been stitched back together once or thrice. The bugling is lifted by Beyrunth and it sets Ka'steel moving to find the place to be. Billows of steam and the creaking of gears working against each other and starting to crank up echoes between rider and dragon.

Ohanaveth and A'hali have been quite quiet lately- but not today. Today the lumbering brown is making his presence known as he intentions more than known. He takes a moment to compose himself before pushing skyward after the elusive gold. A'hali is behind him, lumbering his way into the caverns before taking up a large tankard of ale. "Weyrwoman." A man of few words, he'll stick to that.

As is always the case with Zymuraith, the young queen knows precisely what she is about in all of this. The bright white bonfire of her mind sparks with variegated color that comes only with her rising, dancing sprite-like among black and white-striped tents and cavorting with breeze-blown leaves. A single card is blown about, too, skirling coyly across the edges of each chaser's mind. « Whose might this be, I wonder? » comes the low and velvet tease as she bloods her kill, while Amani stops in her tracks in the caverns, her body taut as she exerts the control needed to keep her lifemate to just that. Klah-dark eyes flick sharply between the gathering riders. "Well, you've all wasted no time," she teases, and then presses her eyes shut a moment as Zymuraith makes her leap from the pens into the brisk, dark sky. "That's fine; neither is she."

The card sets Beyrunth to move, to fly high then leap down amongst the pens to begin blooding. Ka'steels steps carry him amongst the other riders. Shoulders bumping to others before people fan out a bit. Pistons rattle metaphorically inside Beyrunth's chest and echos within Ka'steel's. Thundering echoes in his mind before he pushes it down. Just blood. Be ready, this is what you want. Be prepared.

A'hali settles himself against a nearby wall, intent on that large ale. He's not drinking it all in one go- but there's quite a lot of it going down his gullet. Occasionally he pauses, wiping stray liquid from his beard, and nods towards all of the other men. A silent challenge from the giant rider to anyone else who might want to come at him. Ohanaveth is the same in the sky, not bothering with any nonsensical acrobatic moves. He's straight and to the point in his flying, even as his mind lays out the possibilities for Zymuraith - of HIS babies warming on the sand. They'll be like little flowers, popping up like daisies.

Tsiroth dives down upon the scattered herds in the pen, lashing out at the final moment to trip up one beast and foul up another dragon about to make his kill. Snorting to himself, he'll claim another and set to blooding, while his wings flare out and tent in a protective manner. Always on guard, but his focus wanders constantly to Zymuraith. How could he ignore such a velvet-limned tease? « Any hints? » he inquires slyly, implied grin in place along with a striking musical cord. Va'os can block most of Tsiroth's influence for now, as accustomed as he is to the bronze's initial interests in a proddy female. It won't last for long, but it gives him enough time to make it to the caverns and catch sight of Amani. He's already had a drink or two and so ignores the offerings on the serving tables, sauntering up instead. "Eagerness isn't a bad sign," he admits with a crooked smirk to the Weyrwoman. "For her. Evening." He skips rank for now, mostly because of the sudden jolt of distraction when Tsiroth roars his melodious challenge before launching up after Zymuraith.

The usually calm lake of Quaverilth's mind ripples expectantly, sending the thick mist obscuring it to swirling in whimsical patterns as whisps creep closer to Zymurtaith's bonfire. « Radiant and as winsome as ever, my dear, I would be happy to play any game indeed. » His youthful mindvoice replies with a subtle edge to it. He's just about done blooding his kill, when Zymuraith takes to the skies, scrambling a little to follow her, galaxy painted wings snapping open and propelling the brown after her in a flash. F'kan for his part keep his distance from Amani for the moment, instead finding a nearby chair to slump into as he pulls a flask out of his back pocket to take a long swig.

Amani is edging toward the Nighthearth by degrees now that Zymuraith is airborne, the klah and hidework she'd been carrying abandoned on the nearest table as her attention homes in on each rider. Or rather, Zymuraith's attention fixes upon each chaser and all together. She has a plan, of course…but any number of things could throw a wrench into it. Higher and higher she pulls herself toward the stars, every now and then dropping and veering to create a less obvious path. The card wheels through each pursuing mind, visitors and natives alike, glimpses of a woman in white surrounded by a green wreath among the clouds made clear by flares of white light and glimmering fairy lights that add to her bonfire. Amani studies the visiting bronzer intently for a moment before her gaze skims past A'hali, not as familiar as the rest but enough for comfort…then to F'kan, which earns a subtle softening of expression before she turns her gaze to Va'os. "She's never lacked for it; it's just…not always easy to pick up…" Her eyes unfocus and she gives a shake of her head, steadying herself with a hand on a chair. "At least it'll likely be done quickly…"

Beyrunth follows the leap and buffets the ground with his wings before taking good solid flight. It seems to take the bronze some time to churn up to full speed. Does his stomach seem to lighten? Reds and Oranges more vibrant? Or just an illusion. « I have flown many flights, you would be happy to have me as yours. I am strong and wise and I have flown many threads. Our clutch would be grand. » Such a charmer. Something is warming Ka'steel up, enough that he undoes his jacket and pulls it free from his shoulders, to hang upon fingers by its collar. The bronzerider is weathered like his dragon, older but still solid. The jacket finally gets dumped upon a table as well.

Tsiroth, top heavy as he is, will not be the quickest of the pack of suitors but the bronze has learned his lessons well on how to use that disadvantage to his advantage. He'll let Zymuraith gain lead, while he soars in her wake, content to lurk behind for now and wait for just the right moment to make his move. No fancy flying (yet) for this bronze! He will, however, boldly interject some of his music to the imagery she shares with them; a lively, stirring tune. To set the mood! Va'os doesn't encroach on Amani's personal space, but he doesn't lurk on the sidelines either. He does, however, almost fumble being relatively suave as he goes to lean on a chair rather than the table's edge and nearly ends up on the floor. Thankfully he recovers himself and adjusts, pretending like it never happened! "Yeah, I guess there's that." he agrees, with a mildly sheepish look for Amani.

« Talk too much. » Ohanaveth's voice reaches out, slow and steady as lava as it approaches the minds of the other. It burns everything in its way, steady and inexhaustible as only a force of nature can be. He surges after the Gold, bumping those less determined out of his way. Down below A'hali snorts at the talk of the others and pushes himself away from the wall to amble about. Va'os, F'kan - both of them get the slightest of nods but Ka'steel totally gets looked at from head to toe.

F'kan frowns as he sees Amani heading towards the Nighthearth, not wanting to get up from the seat he just flopped into. But his urges aren't his own right now and so with Quaverilth's lust wafting over their mindlink, the brownrider gets up to follow the golderider, taking another couple of sips from his flask as he goes. The other males' riders are given cursory glances, Va'os a stiff nod, A'hali as well. The newcomer is studied for a moment, his patchwork of scars catching F'kan's attention for a moment longer. Quaverilth for his part, is fighting hard to keep up with the back, arrow straight body cutting through the winter air with a flick of his wand like tail as stardusted wingsails work in overdrive to push him higher and closer to the prize. His smaller size is probably an asset when the gold makes her fancy maneuvers, slim build means he has a tighter turning radius, and uses that to make up some distance, mirroring her moves.

Amani is leaning against the threshold that separates the caverns from the Nighthearth now, her breathing quickened without her realization and her fingers curled against the wall. "That is for me to judge," slips seemingly apropos of nothing past her lips, though in context, it isn't; it's just something she isn't able to filter from Zymuraith, who takes a moment to scold Ohanaveth. Bickering isn't well-tolerated from her suitors, apparently! The queen dives now, wings pinning to drop her from among the stars and then snapping open to send her swooping up and over the inky jungles and river below. « In the end, it is all for me to judge. » Things have gone precisely her way so far…but they can still try to be the one to twine with her beyond her own machinations, of course. Trying is admirable, after all.

Ka'steel followed along with the group, edging and trailing after Amani like 'lovesick puppies' or something like that. The Nighthearth is reached and thats when Beyrunth makes his move. He was higher, just a bit higher and catches the pull of her wings. A quick flip over and he burns white hot for Zymuraith. « I come for you! » The hiss of steam and thunder of engines rattles from him and amidst the collected imagery. The bronze's head pulls towards the ground and the rest follows as he dives towards the plummeting gold. Ka'steel sways a bit at he sudden movement but Beyrunth is locked on target, closing fast and pushing through other dragons. It takes little effort for Zymuraith to dissuade him of any chances and he misses his grasp.

Tsiroth rumbles outwardly, but inwardly his mind ripples with laughter and echoed further by the upswing in tempo and beat of the music. Now it takes on a more primal flare, deep in bass and drum as the bronze buckles down and prepares to tap into what energy he has left. « We'll see who judges who by the end of this! » Challenge accepted! Steeling himself, Tsiroth surges forwards and up, working furiously to close the gap between him and the gold. His plan (maybe only 11% thought out here, folks) unfurls and he'll do his best to evade any suitor that gets in his way but is not against some dirty tactics if it yields better results (sorry, not sorry!). Tsiroth knows what he wants and he'll do everything in his power to try and gain the upper hand to claim her as his own! Meanwhile, Va'os' gaze has drifted to the other riders and he'll return F'kan's stiff nod with a grim one of his own. A'hail is given a quirked brow but nothing more and Ka'steel is eyed warily. Then the tide is turning and he mutters an rather explicit curse under his breath, gaze turning back sharply to Amani and holding there. He might even hold his breath at one point, when the end approaches and fate is left undecided for a few lingering seconds.

Lava doesn't complain about being scolded. Ohanaveth is FOCUSED. Sensing that it's time to make his move the large brown does so, shoving away at those who do not have his same girth to them. GTFO the way boys, Ohanaveth is COMING IN. A'hali shakes his head at the foolishness of the others before drinking the rest of his ale and setting it firmly down with a BANG on a table-top. Heavy handed a little? Yup.

F'kan's bracing himself with yet more alcohol, for he knows his brown's reaction to losing a flight, especially a gold one, read VERY NOT GOOD, and no matter how determined, he has yet to catch himself a golden prize. But maybe with a couple of green catches under his belt, metaphorically speaking, he might just stand a chance. But the brownrider is cautious, bordering on pessimistic as his bright blue eyes grow darker even with the dragonlust coursing through his mind. Quaverilth is still managing to follow with his feats of acrobatics, diving when Zymuraith does, and pulling his wingsails open just a fraction after the gold does. Finally, he's almost upon her and with a flick of his long tail, makes a sharp turn and comes at her from the side, talons outstretched in their eagerness, a bugle of desperation as he puts his all into this single attempt at the beauty he's grown closer and closer to these turns.

Zymuraith actually hisses at Beyrunth, which momentarily surprises Amani into a very brief moment of lucidity that quickly subsides. She pushes away from the wall, looking poised to spring, for lack of a better word. The queen slews abruptly sideways, letting the visiting bronze overshoot her, speeding past Ohanaveth's pushing for position and dodging Quaverilth's valiant attempt to snare her at last. It's nothing against him, really, or any of them…well. Except for the stranger's impatience perhaps. What she aims for here…is continuity. And the chance at another of her color to bolster their home. Even if it means putting up with Tsiroth's ego in earnest now. « So you think, » is her final taunt before letting herself become entangled with the presiding bronze. As for Amani, she does indeed spring, in a way, a hand shooting forward to take up a grip on Va'os' shirt and pull him with her further into the Nighthearth. Is that where they'll stay? There are only two ways out, so the odds are high. Someone is bound to make sure no one strays that way, surely.

Bah humbug. Ohanaveth's lava's spill over into the sea, hissing as the heat mixes with the water and turning it into steam instantly. That steam covers his disappointment at losing and he turns away. There are other things to do now, life to satiate elsewhere. A'hali grunts and turns away from the Nighthearth. Time to give the Weyrleadership some space. A'hali will just go home to his weyrmate.

Quaverilth's mournful cry echoes as he just manages to miss his golden prize, seeing her in the grips of a bronze he's lost to too many times now. His lust still burns though, and unspent, it drives the brown back towards the Weyr, seeking a willing green to coddle him through his epic disapointment. As if not at all surprised, F'kan shudders as he tilts the last of the contents of his flask down his throat, hissing softly at the burn. He doesn't even acknowlege the other disappointed participants, instead hading straight out to the lower bowl and out towards his new shipweyr where he's sure his weyrmate will be willing to help him expend his frustrations. He's just glad he's in a ground weyr now, and doesn't have to rely on a sulking Quaverilth.

Tsiroth's ego will definitely be the bane of many until draconic memory kicks in and takes the edge off of it! Then it really will only be Va'os and Zymuraith who suffer the brunt but that is their future-selves worry. In the here and now, the bronze will secure the young gold firmly in his grip, exuding a great amount of pride and triumph as he carries her off; just a little longer and higher, before gravity kicks in and things take their natural course. Va'os does not hesitate or resist once Amani springs at him, yielding to that grip on his shirt and allowing himself to be hauled away. Just a single moment of barked laughter from him and then they're gone from view and anyone who doesn't want to be privy to too much should probably well avoid the night hearth… or surrounding area, really.

Being a visiting rider is tough, especially when you lose a goldflight. « I missed! » » You were too impatient. Again. When is the last time you saw the first dragon be the one to secure any chase, let alone a gold like her? « Internal dialogue. But Ka'steel gathers up a jacket while Beyrunth catches himself and glides the rest of the way back down towards the weyr. The older bronzerider vacates the premises and heads off to seek SOMETHING to slake his thirst. Both of his thirsts.

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