It's been a grueling task moving all of his things from his old weyr to his new one. But S'ayde has finally done it and it couldn't have been completed sooner. He's throwing his weyrwarming party tonight. The only hting that has him worried though is that Kataskiath has been showing hints of flying, demanding presents from suitors, wanting S'ayde to kidnap harpers to sing her songs. He just hopes she staves off a bt longer. Looking around, everything is in place. A drudge stands at the bar, ready to serve drinks. Really, it's a shame the way S'ayde caught this awesome weyr with all it's built in comforts. Must have taken the previous owner turns to get it this way. Harpers sit in one corner of the weyr, practicing soft music while S'ayde checks the door to the ledge for the millionth time. All the food is set, all the drinks are ready, now all he needs are his guests. Thank Faranth it's a clear evening, and not too terribly hot.

A woosh of wings and the glint of light on molten bronze hide is likely the first indications of Kabelkath's arrival - he doesn't make a huge external show when he lands lightly on the ledge, but internally he broadcasts with a flash of orange sparks, « I think it's safe for the party to start now - we've arrived! » Sarcasm fills the fiery mindscape, flashing with flickers of fiery amusement. R'ku, astride on the bronze's neck, actually facepalms briefly, his palm rasping slightly over the shadow of stubble left on his cheeks and putting his fledgling new mustache into a slight disarray, "I think we can do without the snark, Bel." He gives a snort of amusement at his dragon as he swings down to land with a thump on the ground. It takes him a bit to do the necessary things - remove straps for comfort and dig out his gift, which appears to be a decorative wood box of some sort. That settled, he'll make one last brush of hands over his formal riding leathers - he tried to dress a bit fancier, apparently - and then he's heading towards the inner weyr. When he sees S'ayde, whenever that may be, he'll offer the man a flash of a grin as he holds up the box in his hands, "Hey! Where are you wanting us to deposit the loot?"

Were she able to see her green in the bowl, Moanna would be horrified to discover that she is glowing, not some subtle soft sheen either, but like a childs nightlight, seemingly lit from with in; a light well suits her dappled hide and washes of iridescence. The green has always been a flirt and up until the party really got underway hadn't been showing many of the usual signs. All this, Moanna is completely unaware of as she makes her way inside the Weyr, Moanna is in costume, the deep blood red of her belly dancing attire matching the decor perfectly. "You are lucky, if we didn't have a rest day you wouldn't have had any performers." The Zingari greenrider tosses casually at S'ayde as she bee-lines for the bar, demanding something far stronger than her usual with a wry smile and a sashay of her hips at the poor drudge, knocking back the drink, before indicating her next with a thump of the glass against the counter.

Never would Divale had guessed that she'd ever be attending a weyrwarming party and yet, here she is. Timing between her earlier break and her duties happen to work out that she can make an appearance and perhaps even enjoy herself. Lukoith will arrive not long after Kabelkath arrives, the dark brown rumbling low in his chest. « Some things don't change, I see? » He dryly remarks to the bronze, as Divale dismounts and goes about the usual routine of removing the straps and setting them somewhere safely aside. Her gift is safely tucked under one arm before she's making her way towards the door and only vaguely aware that Lukoith's leaving for the bowl…likely where Maeveth is currently. Her greeting to S'ayde, should he be the one to answer, will be polite and warm, if quieter than some. Upon spotting R'ku, she'll give him the usual (friendly) smirk and Moanna will receive a small smile, though a notably longer look for the attire she's currently wearing. "This weyr certainly outstrips mine by a long shot," she muses, taking a moment to observe the decor.

There are a lot of places L'xan should probably be, here didn't figure on his list for this evening. BUT Nokteryth wanted to be here, drawn by the gentle strains of music over the water, and the general feeling of the 'glow' that from the ledge announces some kind of gathering is happening. Nokteryths night-dark bronze hide provides a marked contrast to the first bronze, as they finally land and sort thier own trappings out. Nokteryth doesn't join the conversation just yet, other than to send dark smoky tendrils of smugness across the combined mindscapes. "Mine too." L'xan will just invite himself in and into the conversation. Cos there is nothing more awkward than that one older-guy trying to hang out with the younger kids.

Kataskiath peers out from the entrance to her couch as R'ku and his lifemate arrive. «The first are here S'ayde.» The green stretches, much like a feline, jaws opening in a wide yawn. Apparently someone had been napping. «Greetingsss Kabelkath» The hissing spark of Kataskiath's voice comes with a rush of green, purple, and blue flame smelling strongly of burning cedar and cypress, laced with musk and sandalwood. Her flames jump and snap playfully as her eyes whirl blue and green. «Good Evening Lukoith! Nokteryth!» She comes out of her couch to greet the males, leaving her usual comfortable shadows to do so. «Lovely evening, isn't it?» She preens, her hide flickering.
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"R'ku! Come on in and make yourself comfortable." S'ayde grins and greets the man with a handshake and points to the dining table. "Loot can go over there for now, thanks man." S'ayde gives R'ku a clap on the back as Moanna sashays in and S'ayde gives her a wide, charming grin. "Well, then count me the luckiest man on Pern, and I got pretty performers to boot, It's a good day." S'ayde winks at Moanna and leaves her to her drink as Divale Makes an entrance. S'ayde greets her just as warmly. "Please, help yourself to drinks and food, there's plenty." The harpers strike up a lively tune as S'ayde moves to greet L'xan as he arrives. "Thanks for coming!"

Kabelkath is inevitably drawn towards the glowing beacon of Maeveth in the bowl - like a bronze moth to a flame. He is briefly distracted by Lukoith, though, as he quips back with an amused shower of orange sparks, « You got that right, bud. I've always been this amazing. » Another flash of amused sparks, though he sends a flicker of fire towards the glowy Maeveth, « You're going to be blinding unwary passerbys in the bowl with your hide, Maeveth - you should have warned me. » There's a touch of amusement and compliment in the fiery mindvoice. R'ku casts Moanna a rather appraising look, though who knows if it's due to her attire or the fact she just knocked a drink back like a pro. "Didn't know you'd be performing, Moanna," he remarks, his grin wide, "You sure you want to be knocking them back that fast? I would think that'd affect your balance." It's all good-natured teasing - his deep voice is warm and amused, "Granted - maybe it helps your hips sway more. I'm only an expert on the booze part of the equation." At the sound of Divale entering, he'll toss her a return grin to match her smirk, "You got that right about the Weyr. I'm lucky I've got a bed setup in mine. Decorating doesn't seem to be my strong suit." His expression turns a bit rueful, though L'xan's words have him laughing, "At least I'm not the only one." He'll set the decorative box on the dining table as instructed by S'ayde and then he's going to get himself a drink, "Nice night for a drink, I suppose."

« I rather like the glow. » Maeveth admits her smoky alto a purr over Bel's embers, though the green doesn't limit her sending to only the bronze. « Imagine a dance through the sky with the colors like this. » Soft notes of music are slowly swelling with the watery washes of color that punctuate the green's thoughts, launching herself into the air to soar down and land near the pens. Enjoying the beasts in the pens suddenly fleeing before her. She does not hunt yet, but watches, pacing the outside of the pen her motions as slow and sinuous as the dancer inside. Inside Moanna is utterly oblivious, after all she's not laid eyes on her lifemate in hours, but the Zingari dancer has a sort of glow of her own, the powder fine shimmer dust further adding to the effect of her costume. "Yes well someone, decided to randomly move into a haunted weyr and host a party in the middle of one of the Zingari's biggest festivals." She lifts her second drink to her lips as she moves to loop an arm through one of R'ku's with a wry grin. "So I thought I'd do him a favor devil that he is." She grins "Divale, and - I'm not sure we have met?" An almost predatory glance given the other male commenting on the weyr. "I guess Hogback had the pick of them." She notes of the weyr.

Lukoith has only just begun to extend his wings when Kataskiath's stretching and the flicker to her hide catches his attention as well. His mind reaches out, night sky framed in the window of a fire-lit room of polished wood and antique riches, the faint sound of violin drifting in the absence of his voice. Definite interest. « A very lovely evening, indeed, my dear. » Kabelkath's remark brings implied laughter but the dark brown is torn. Two potential greens to court and, perhaps, chase? Ahh, yes. Maeveth is on the move now and Lukoith's watching her now with renewed attentiveness. « It would be stunning. » "Now, R'ku… Are you implying Moanna can't handle a few drinks?" Divale muses dryly as she gives her former clutchmate a sidelong look; her gaze keeps drifting back to Moanna, but now lingers on S'ayde too. She's not so oblivious to the shifting patterns in Lukoith's mind, but she's hoping what's to come doesn't happen now. There's a scoff as he goes on to mention swaying hips and with a shake of her head, adds her gift with the rest. "You've gone all out," she murmurs to S'ayde as she decides to go for a drink. May as well start now? "I've just not had time to decorate…" she adds belatedly to R'ku, only to pause by the bar and look over her shoulder as L'xan enters. She frowns but that soon eases and she nods her head in a respectful greeting to her fellow Wingmate. "Hello again, Moanna."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks for having me! I don't have loot. Marks okay?" L'xan really isn't prepared, or aware that this was his destination when his lifemate suggested a casual flight around the bowl 'to stretch his wings'. Quite frankly, everyone should consider themselves lucky he's dressed okay? Brows quirk at unfamiliar people, pleasant greetings follow as he makes his way to the bar. Ah booze, the eternal social lubrication. Order placed and delivered he toasts the scarlet-clad Moanna and Divale , before tipping his own drink down. "L'xan. Bronze Nokteryth's" Speaking of whom…Nokteryth may not be as familiar with the greens as the other two males appear to be, but that doesn't stop him from finally joining in the banter. « Evenin' ladies. Lovely night for it. » The sultry slicks of dark-rainbow water shimmies across the aether, towards both Maeveth and Kataskiath. He'll flirt with them both, no need to pick favourites yet. There is enough of his bad boy ego to go round.

S'ayde laughs. "It's easy to decorate when you come from the Zingari… We have to put a flare to everything, you can ask Mo, she'll tell you. Ever seen the inside of one of our wagons?" S'ayde jerks his thumb at one of the very colorful pillows upon the couch, "It's like those, but everywhere." S'ayde coughs. "The built in stuff was already here too, figure this had to have been a bronzerider's weyr once upon a time. It's got some good features. Luck of the draw when I got this one." And Kataskiath has her own space, which suits the green just fine. He turns to Moanna with a grin, "Well, I had to act before someone else snagged this place up. I told you why I moved here, it wasn't random." And definitely had nothing to do with Zh'ain, though not getting pegged in the head with random fruit bits might be a bonus! "And I had this planned before the sister clans started showing, thought I still had time." S'ayde turns to Divale, a glint of interest sparking in his own eyes, though he's certainly a bit oblivious to the green outside, he's ignoring her for the moment. "Try checking arounf the Bazaar and Caravan grounds, I'm certain there are people who would be begging for a comission to decorate a rider's weyr."
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Kataskiath listens to the males talk, her fires crackling with amusement. She seems to be glowing herself, a little more with each passing moment. Kataskiath is a sneak-flyer. No one ever knows when she will burst with light, glowing like an emerald beacon. She notes some of Kabelkath's distraction and it forces a bit more light. She cranes her sylven head to look out at the bowl. «Perhapsss we sshould join them.» She suggests, trotting out to the end of her groundlevel ledge. «Ssshall we?» Without waiting for an answer the green trots out to greet Maeveth at the pens. «Herdbeassst iss sssounding particularly tassssty thisss night Maeveth, what think you?» This is asked even as Kataskiath's glowing tail flicks back and forth with her growing urge to pounce on one of the tasty beasties. Not just yet…soon. The green licks her maw, turning to the males, eyes whorling with mischief.

S'ayde also waves off L'xan's offer of marks. "No worries, just help yourself to the fair and have fun!"

Kabelkath traipses along after Maeveth, his mind afire with flying sparks of orange and yellow, « A beautiful beacon. » Though he can't help but add with a touch of his usual humor, mindvoice morphing into dual flickers of flame like eyes, « Sounds like the beginning of a truly sickeningly sweet love poem. The ones with all the pretty flowery language but none of the juicy details. » And when Kataskiath arrives, too, he seems even more interested, « Double trouble? I'm sure there's something poetic to this - two glowing beacons of beauty or something … »%r%rR'ku seems fairly oblivious to the rovings of his lifemate for the moment - he has a drink in hand and a belly dancer twining her arm through his, so it's likely his mind is elsewhere. However, there is a brief flicker of something on his face - a furrow of a brow and a glance towards the outer weyr that is quickly replaced by his usual charming grin at Moanna's further words. "Haunted?" he teases, deep voice full of mischief as he leans closer to her, "I suppose I'd haunt this place, too, if I died and didn't get a chance to use it myself." He tosses back his own drink, only wincing slightly at the burn of the alcohol as it goes down, "You aren't afraid, are you?" He has a mischievous grin that he aims at Moanna, though Divale gets part of it too, "And I wasn't suggesting Moanna can't hold her drink - it's whether she can belly dance without falling over after 2 drinks?" He lifts his eyebrows and also his next drink to L'xan, adding, "R'ku, rider of Bronze Kabelkath." He arches a brow at S'ayde, "I'll have to see if I can find time to ask someone to decorate. I'd be afraid they'd make it pink or something, though." He makes a face and sips at his second drink - slower this time.

Moanna grins at Divale, and her gaze lingers on the brownrider with a wry smile, at least until she notices the way she glances over S'ayde. Her expression shifts and a flicker of conflicting emotions might be read there. She recovers enough to laugh at the comment on color, "I stuck to Maeveth's colors, and the warm golds of the Imani personally." She notes at the color explosion. "Pleasure to meet you L'xan." Moanna purrs the words, dark eyes dancing. If her chest presses just a bit too much against poor R'ku's arm, or a motion intended to draw the eye there happens well, She's not quite herself at the moment. "I really don't get it, such lovely neighbors." Maeveth's motion is quick, and liquid her glow is flashing to it's brightest as she snaps the neck of her prey and taking her sustenance. Eerie notes begin to play, soft and lilting, enticing and frightening at the same time. Her thoughts are splashes of glowing watercolor, fey lights dancing in the dark to lure those daring to brave the darkening sky. A Scream of challenge erupting at the Green who dares to poach her males. The younger launching into the sky with a banshee's scream, calling, beckoning, daring those below to follow or else declare their cowardice or bad taste.

L'xan inspects the residue left in his glass. He should have guessed, Zingari whiskey. Having only recently learned a healthy respect for the beverage, he orders a much less alcoholic chaser. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. For the rest of the evening, he'll be uncharacteristically quiet as he continues to drink and absorb the goings-on around him. He really is that awkward older guy trying to recapture his youth, and then being sufficiently fuddled not to talk his way out of it with his usual charm.

Nokteryth on the other hand is completely in his element as he follows the two glowing greens to the pens with lazy sweeps of his dark wings. « Yes, there's love if you want it. I don't sound like no sonnet, my ladies » He pronounces as the oil-slicks of his mindscape finally catch alight. He'll also continue in much the same manner until the greens make their picks.

"Are either you or Moanna available for commission to decorate?" Divale's tone is heavily bemused, though her mouth remains in one of her usual vague smirks, now turned to S'ayde. She'll note the interest from him and there's perhaps a hint of a wry edge to that smirk now. Drink readied, she'll take a moment to enjoy it as the conversation flows around her and a quick check in to Lukoith just confirms her suspicions from earlier. Well… damn? Damn. R'ku's return comment brings a dry chuckle and a shake of her head, "Don't insult her now, R'ku," she muses and while she has been looking over at S'ayde, her gaze will linger longer on Moanna. Far longer than might be proper. Lukoith's not about to let either green out of his sight and as Kataskiath goes on the move, he will follow, lurking at a respectful distance. That is… until Maeveth makes her fluid move and the first kill. At the scent of blood, it's like a change suddenly overcomes the brown. The chains are gone, the shackles too and with a deep roar, he leaps into those pens and wrecks havoc, the first kill being anything but pleasant for the poor animal. He's never felt so out of control. « You don't even know, what you're doing to me! » He's not such a sweet thing, but oh, what a beautiful feeling!

S'ayde happens to know for a fact that Moanna can still dance after two drinks, he sends her a sly smile at the remark and retrieves a drink for himself. To Divale's question he nods. "I could give a hand if you like." Another smile is given before S'ayde lifts his glass to his lips, ah whiskey, it's the best.
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Kataskiath eyes Maeveth as she bloods and screams her defiance. The elder dragon roars her own response, razor sharp teeth snapping as she bursts into full glow and ransacks the pens. You think Lukoith's kill was messy and unpleasant? Kataskiath rips the poor critter to shreds before leaping into the skies. Her fires roar, flames becoming brilliant shades of red, yellow, green, blue and purple. Kataskiath's screams of defiance fill the air as she too lures the males into the skies. «Come….catch me if you can…» She taunts with a flicker of her spade like tail. «It'll be quite worth it!»

R'ku doesn't seem to be minding having bits of Moanna pressed against him, even though there may be a bit more color in his cheeks or a bit of a wider grin spreading across his face. "Maybe spice colors would do? Cinnamons? I did grow up with a spice merchant as a father," he remarks, pausing only to take another swig of his drink. Something seems to clue him into his lifemate's antics, though, and the thought of colors and decorations are driven from his mind except for one word, "Shit." He glances between Moanna, Divale and S'ayde, eyes starting to glaze a little as his mind starts to be yanked forcibly into his dragon's. So much for another drink. A flurry of bright orange sparks, akin to the rush of color when fresh wood is placed on a campfire, roil up from Kabelkath's mind in a rush of color and emotion at the sudden start of things. Muscles flexing, he surges upwards with wings beating in a thudding rhythm - ooga chaka, ooga chaka. There's a swift snap of a herdbeast's neck and a squish as he lands on the thing, reveling in the blood - he's definitely hooked on that particular feeling. He almost cackles as he surges upwards into the sky after Maeveth and Kataskiath, his bugle of challenge accented by a swirl of embers rushing from his mindvoice. That and the steady thump of his wings - ooga chaka, ooga chaka. « I'm high on believing - that you're in love with me. » Smug, much? It does seem to radiate from his campfire orange mind.

Tavuqth, lo the saurian brown, has been hunting nimble and nubile prey, a pasttime every bit as common as hunting the kind that keeps him vigorous. That these are his wingmates means he has seen them fly, knit wing tip to wing tip, is wise to weakness and strength. For the moment, he's bullying the feeding pens, not requiring the vitality of a quick blood drink as he would with queens. No, he needs less mass, not more of it. That he'll need to halve his focus is not of deep consequence, he believes himself prepared to fly both greens. And Th'bek? He's on the ledge, rallying his wits.

Having sufficiently marshalled his game face, Th'bek saunters into the weyr as if there is not a dual flight occuring. The brownrider is usually MIA during Arroyo flights his lecherous brown invests in, to not cloud his relationships with wingriders. "Why hadn't you invited me here before, S'ayde?" Caught looking around, not at all insulted until he happens to notice the expansive fireplace. "Faranth's teeth that's huge." Now with decor envy, the brownrider looks at those assembled. "Moanna," thinking of his junior rider, "you're comfortable with this?" Tavuqth flocks to the two greens, keeping to the back of the fray as if herding them because I want it that way.

Hogback's temporary wingsecond Janeson, a woman whose wisdom and calm has been earned through bitter experience and only recently recognized by her temporary wingleader. Her brown, a fifteen-turn veteran of Igen by way of Telgar Weyr, is one of the smaller, leaner paragons of his variety: Fastidiously sleek, tumeric-spiced above and clove-hued below with pepper-marked near-golden wingspans. Lately grizzled with healing threadscore, Rzuulth yet arrives with arrow-strike clarity and a smouldering mental touch that drifts over the two greens. Janeson, a late arrival to the ledge itself, lifts a glass in salute to S'ayde, before sliding her attention over to study Moanna - unknown to her.

The younger green gleams as she sails up and up, catching an updraft in the darkening sky. Maeveth looks to see the pursuers behind. Twisting in the air and pinning her wings to her side to dive back twisting through the pursuers, and also to throw off Kataskiath's rhythm, pulling up to trail the desert sand at the last moment. Gaining altitude again. « Delicate, I went through that phase. » She laughs wickedly.

Moanna upon realizing what her green is doing goes wide eyed, and forces herself away from R'ku a little with a deepening frown. Wide eyes are staring at S'ayde in accusation. Moanna had no idea what was going on but surely the older, more experienced greenrider could have given her warning? No? Th'bek's question has her trying to focus on two fronts; her lust crazed green who is taking liberties to show just how much she's learned since they joined Arroyo, and the room of… possibilities. "That depends, if you win am I supposed to cry out 'Oh sir'" Her voice a little high and thready, as she resorts to bad humor to try to gain some perspective on the situation…. which lasts all of five seconds before she's glancing at the man like a starving man eying a feast.

Divale knocks back her drink far faster than she normally would as she wills herself to bring her gaze away from Moanna and focus on S'ayde. "I'd appreciate it. It'd not be anything too spectacular…" Her weyr isn't that large. Conversation abruptly wanes to a stunned sort of silence as Lukoith's behaviour flips and the brown is literally unchained. Her eyes widen a moment, breath inhaled a touch sharply but by the time she exhales, she's in control of herself. "Hell of a party," she drawls, voice low and smirk edging towards a grin. A second drink is procured and she'll meet R'ku's glance, normally amicable towards the bronzerider and now her expression is tainted by the fierceness Lukoith is displaying; which sadly pegs him as competition, along with Th'bek when he arrives too. Lukoith is definitely feeling the rhythm now, even if it's not quite nightfall. His mind is nothing but night and shadow, snarling teeth and terrifying lurking things in stark contrast to the fires and light of both greens; both of which he now craves. Kataskiath's method of killing brings nothing but delight from Lukoith. « Ah, I don't hardly know you! » his voice is a low and harsh guttural growl by now. « But I think I can love you. All… crimson and clover. » He's no poet, but it'll do. Then she's in the skies and with a howl, he will sweep his wings and pursue her, so maddened on blood and flight lust he's lost track of Maeveth until she's diving back towards them. He veers sharply, calling out with a snarled taunt. « Right now you could care less about me, but soon enough you'll care, by the time I'm done! My strength is ten-fold, girl! »

S'ayde 's realization and explitive of "Shit!" will come nearly simultaneously with R'ku's his hazel eyes becoming a bit dazed as he catches brief images of Kataskiath's flight in his mind. His eyes flick across everyone in the room, a slight panic hitting along with the desires of his green. Somewhere in his subconcious he notes that he doesn't like Moanna draped on R'ku as she is, but other things take priority here. S'ayde pulls at the collar of his tunic. Well. This is sure to be one heck of an interesing Weyrwarming. "Uh, well, I just moved in Sir, come by anytime you like." Th'bek would have probably loved S'ayde's old weyr too, but, there's no doubt this one is better. S'ayde turns to Moanna as Th'bek addresses her and raises a brow, aye, is she ok with this? He about dies with laughter at Moanna's laughter. If he wasn't so far away right now he'd kiss her. His gaze swings to Divale. Who would it be? He gulps down the last of his drink, and gets a second, echoing his wingmate's actions. This one is half downed before S'ayde grins. "I do throw a good party!" He jests, really. Could Kat have chosen a better time? apparently not.

«Come now! I'd be a liar if I sssaid we couldn't get much higher!» Kataskiath climbs the skies, powerful wings bringing her to stunning altitudes in a rapid time. «The time to hesitate is through! Come on, light my firessss!» Kat's inner fires explode with excitement as she darts slightly left, seperating herself from the competing younger Maeveth. «If you truly believe I'm in love with you, help me light the night on fire!» Something resembling laughter whirls it's way through Kat's flames as she rolls and darts forward, attempting to gain the attention of the males. Her emerald hide flashes with an inner fire of it's own, the light moving like a flickering flame across Kat's sylven hide. She croons to Lukoith, who seems to admire her viscious approach to killing. «Crimsssoon.. The color our love would make if it became a funeral pyre!» She roars aother challenge and darts around the flying males, taunting them, flirting with them, doing her damndest to keep their attention.

R'ku eyes the remaining alcohol in his glass soberly before he, too, knocks the remainder back in one fell swoop. Swallowing with a grimace, he echoes again, "Shit." He blinks sveral times, eyes focusing on Moanna and then S'ayde, conflicting emotions on his face - lust from his dragon seems to be warring with his self-control. Divale's words seem to break him out of his half-trance briefly and he gives a rumble of a laugh, "Nice addition to the entertainment, I suppose." He sets his empty glass on the bar a bit harder than expected, causing said glass to crack without the bronzerider even noticing. Kabelkath is truly one with the air - small for a bronze, his lean angles seem to allow him to cut through the wind with a lot more agility than might be expected initially. When Maeveth twists, he twists as well, matching her rhythm with dogged determination. « Stop! » The word rushes forth in a shower of sparks and heat as Maeveth rockets back towards him, « … in the name of love. » With a snarl and a burst of orange flame, Kabelkath twists and mirrors the glowing green's dive, rocketing after her like a comet, « You don't want to break my heart, do you? » This last entreaty is sent to both Maeveth and Kataskiath, who he seems to be dividing attentions - after sweeping towards the younger green, Kabelkath swoops into an updraft to keep him in range of Kataskiath, as well. So many feelings - so many things to be hooked on!

Th'bek splashes whatever people are drinking into a vessel he kicks back, then is hastily refilling. He questions his own motives for being here, catching Divale's eye as he sorts her into the category of competitor, or perhaps just desserts. "Oh, right," Th'bek stands corrected to S'ayde, thinking a beat. "Well you never invited me to the old one either, but bygones are bygones." He smiles over his drink before Moanna responds to his question, and he looks at the hand his drink's in, "it's uh, heh, not a requirement." AS Janeson enters the weyr of one of her deceased wingmates, Th'bek notes her knot and nods to her with a short span of deference. "It's hot in here." Tavuqth, caping his wings and Maeveth loops back, spins onto his back to try and root a grip she escapes. « I'm not gonna write you a love song, » so begins. « unless it's a ballad of blood and victory! »

The moons, ghostly galleons on stormy seas, lights the ribbon of moonlight that Rzuuth follows, claret velvet slashed over the shadows of brown, with purple-jewelled eyes atwinkle. Black-eyed Janeson, low whistle sounding, glances to night's window aas if to track the chase, the prizes they are after. Rzuuth with come to thee, Maeveth, Kataskiath. Not hell should bar the way!

But in all chaos there is calculation, and Maeveth doubles bag again through her chasers, edging close enough to some to see if they will break, there is a wicked laughter in the smokey velvet of her voice. And this race is one Maveth intends to win. Meanwhile, Moanna is drinking like the world is going to end crossing the room, with predatory grace that bleeds over from the leopard spotted green in the air. Knocking back the drink before sumarraly planting a heated kiss on Th'bek before spinning away, just as Maeveth passes within reach but not quite of some of the pursuers. « Need to do better than that boys.> She hangs low, dipping into a canyon to force a pair of larger bronzes out, unable to maneuver in the narrow space. »

The tactic works and Lukoith forgets his taunting to Maeveth in favour of allowing Kataskiath to bait and barb him. He pursues her with renewed vigour, teeth bared and snapping menacingly close to any other male who dares come too close or attempt to push him out of the running. « Are you waiting, for my move? » he snarls to the mature flickering, fiery green. « Well, I'm making it! C'mon, little rabbit! Show me where you've got it! » His voice never rises far beyond a growl, shadow cloaked and seething, accompanied by the foreboding sound and notes of cello until he echo Kataskiath's roar and falls prey to her challenge and taunting. Maeveth serves to distract again, but he is not lured away for long; not when she pulls that stunt with the canyon. Divale resists the urge to prowl across the room and while she'd been noticeably admiring Moanna almost since arriving, her gaze is steadily shifting longer and longer to S'ayde as Lukoith's attention is lured by Kataskiath. Her mind is already slipping over, eyes darkened and distant but there's enough of her still stubbornly holding on to finish her drink and follow what conversation there is. "About to get a whole lot hotter," she all but growls, she mutters so low to Th'bek. Jameson's arrival brings a mix of agitation for another competitor and lustful interest, not even registering the connection of a Hogback rider being here.

"What about love boys? Don't you want someone to care about you?» Kataskiath changes direction, attempting to outfly, or taunt, Lukoith. «Come now don't let it slip away!» Seemingly she addresses the whole group, but it is Lukoith she taunts with a flick of her tail. Or is it Rzuuth? Or maybe even Tavuqth? No, he's trying for Mae. WHo knows? But she zigs and zags, laughter threading through her multi-colored flames.

S'ayde is having a hard time keeping up with the converation as Kataskiath's mind takes more and more control. Usually S'ayde is able to keep it together, but with added competition to the flight, Kataskiath yanks the reins of their minds much harder than usual. Focus S'ayde! S'ayde's gaze drifts towards Divale, as Lukoith takes up much of Kataskiath's attention, she hasn't decided on him yet, but it leans heavily in the brown's favor. Maybe. "A whole lot hotter" S'ayde echoes, twitching with the need to move, so he does. He paces to the bar and knocks down the last of his drink. Het sets the glass down. Any moment now a catch could happen, better the glass not be in his hands.

They said no word to the red-lipped brownrider, who draws hand over her long loosed hair. And dark in the night the brown presses sharply, mind burnt like a brand from the searing fires of the greens' minds (sweet black flame in the moonlight!). Upon Maeveth's canyon ruse, he twists his wings behind him, stretches and strains, and veers from the detour with a bonny call « Watch for me by moonlight! » And the ichor in his veins throbs to the the greens' refrains. Nearer and nearer he comes, his eyes like a light!

Tactics can go both ways. Kabelkath gives his wings a rhythmic snap, the sound seeming to provide a drum beat to his frantic chase, as he dives down in hot pursuit of Maeveth. Rather than being scared off by the canyon, he skims low and predatory over the top, waiting for the green to rise back out of the confined space, « Crazy! » A burst of fire - sparks, bright and hot like his emotions, « Crazy little thing called love. » A beat of his wings, limbed in fire, as he chases the younger green greedily, « There goes my baby. She knows how to rock and roll. She drives me crazy …. » An echoing cackle escapes from his mind - gleeful and full of utter excitement at the chase, « She gives me hot and cold fevers! » Kabelkath continues along above the canyon - prowling and ready to try to snatch the green should she surface. R'ku has started to pace to work off his rising lust and competitive anger. He pauses every so often to rub a hand over his head, causing his hair to stick partially on end. "Hot indeed - not the kind of heat I was expecting," he grits out, deep voice husky. Moanna is getting most of his lustful glances now, as focused as Kabelkath is on Maeveth right now. Though he tempers that heat with some cool glares at the other competing riders.

And I'm gonna be hiiiiiiigh as a kite by then…. Talons cinch nothing as Maeveth has come and gone, and Tavuqth throws his shoulder down to right his way in the wind, deep blood-spatter wings marking that transition with the slide of air molecules. The frisson the spike of cool evening air leaves over the glossy hide pits him closer to Rzuuth, a sleek brown he shows oversized teeth to. The cluster around Kataskiath is thinner and he stream for it, arcing the upper bones of his wings and lashing with his tail to speed direction. « You can tell your Ma, I moved to Arkansas. » Which, Tavuqth thinks, is within the Southern Continent. Swamp and carboniferous plants, his mind leaves the imprints to turn to coal later, an exhaled snort, and throat-based growl moves up his neck to rattle the back of his tongue. Th'bek, wanting desperately to drink more, but already burning within, puts up the empty glass and walks away from it like the cinder it seems like.

It is Divale who is treated to the slow trace of a finger over her jaw in passing as Moanna keeps moving around the room. Sayde is eyed to, but the usual heat between them is something more aggressive, and if he is too close with the next twirl, he may wind up being pushed bodily out of her way as she circles back to the hogback rider. The fabric of the slik skirts fluttering as the dancer throws in an articulation of the smooth muscle of her stomach, or a twist and shimmy every so often, she's lost to the flight now. The dappled green erupts from the canyon, into the pale silvery light, just within reach of many of the brave souls who were able to track her path.

« … I'm not a sweet thing. These mysteries of life? Just ain't my thing! » Lukoith's answer is more snarl than words to Kataskiath. Love? He's an idea of it but it's never put to songs… polite songs, that is. « You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything! » He doesn't care who the taunt is for, but it serves it's purpose. He's hooked, snapping at the wings of another male as he ducks beneath them in order to shave off a little more distance as Kataskiath zigs and he zags in a bold attempt to close in on her. « Come on, little rabbit! » he taunts again, teeth bared. « … only thing I know for sure is what I wanna do, anytime, anywhere! » Divale's gaze zeroes in sharply on Moanna when she traces a finger over her jaw, breath inhaled sharply and held for that fleeting moment and her hands curl at her side as she attempts to fight the urge to touch the greenrider… and fails. One hand will dart out in an attempt to touch, to briefly grip before Moanna twirls away. There's a growled curse and she'll watch Moanna for a spell before Lukoith's influence takes control again and she's back to her heightened focus on S'ayde and a darted look for Th'bek, as well as R'ku and the Hogback rider.

« Then she leaves me in a cool, cool sweat … » Kabelkath's mind is awash in frustrated sparks and dual flames like eyes narrowed in concentration as he tracks Maeveth's eventual eruption from the canyon. « I gotta be cool. Relax. Get hip. » Smooth movements of his wings rocket him forward as he slips easily through the rushing wind, focused on the glowing beacon of Maeveth's hide ahead of him. « This thing called love …. I must get 'round to it. » With each word in his mind comes a burst of sparks that seems to correspond with a burst of speed and a downsweep of wings. A snarl escapes him as another male gets close and he surges forward, intent and focused on Maeveth's dappled form. « At last! My love has come along. » He remains tense, ready to spring forward for the catch should the opportunity arise. R'ku actually shoots Divale a narrow-eyed glare - hey, he wanted that attention. It's just a flicker of emotion that he can't seem to separate from his dragon for the moment. When Kabelkath snarls, even he snarls - a deep rumble in his chest. He ends up standing there, hands clutched to his head in some attempt to separate the feelings rushing over him. Don't mind him - it probably doesn't help he's got alcohol in his system, as well as dragon lust. Maybe the two shouldn't mix?

«Maybe I think you're cute and funny,» Kataskiath whirls just out of Lukoith's reach and dart's off. <,Maybe I wanna do what bunnies do, with you, if you know what I mean.» She bugels invitingly at Tavuqth and the Hogback's life mate. She does a barrel roll and dives off in another direction, the speed and flexibility of her color allowing her to turn on a mark mid-air. "Let's get rich and dig our lifmates weyrs in the south, let's get rich and buy everybody sweaters and teach them how to dance! Let's get rich and build a weyr on a mountain making everybody look like ants! From way up here, you and I, yu and I!»

There's enough of S'ayde's sanity left for him to send a slightly jealous look towards Divale, and then any male whom Moanna gets too close to, however, less and less of this appears as his focus is now torn between Divale and Th'bek. Lukoith had almost caught there. S'ayde moves a bit closer to both riders, heated, glazed eyes filling with lust and impatience.

To the other males, Rzuuth sends a sniggering jest «Now keep good watch!» and promises injury back to Tavuqth every turn. Are you deaf that you do not hear? With the white sands of the weyr smoking behind him, and his (uh) rapier brandished high, he shrieks like a madman while candlemarks drag by like turns. A final lurch shatters the moonlight: crimson talons and sinuous tail reaching, reaching for the… trigger. And Janeson, hollow eyes of madness, looks to her priming, to S'ayde, but tracks Moanna, true.

Th'bek can't tell if it's Zingari whiskey or Moanna's kiss that smolders on his mouth, but one thing's for sure, he feels like he's about to ignite from the inside. Composure during green flights the rider's had to work for, Tavuqth handily attending about two dozen a month. Such routines would cripple his role as wingleader. Th'bek overlaps his consciousness with his dragon then expels himself toward the part that is their humanity. "'cuse me, I need a little air," rustling past Janeson. "Wingsecond." The brownrider won't find his way back, the bastard. Tavuqth does not flag, careening, visiting, lunging for each green in freeze frame images sent to Th'bek. It is like catching butterflies. « The things I've done for foolish pride, the me that's never satisfied. »

Lukoith will not be so easily deterred! He may have missed that time, but after a moment of seething anger, he'll fold his wings and resume his chase with double the desire and determination. He'll be pushing himself to his limits but he doesn't care at this point. He's not about to allow Kataskiath to slip through his talons so easily! « They are poachers! » he snarls, meaning his competition. « Hunt you to the ground, they will. » He cannot execute the barrel roll but he can admire her skill and it brings around what he'd voiced before: « I've never felt so out of control, you don't even know what you're doing to me! » His mind fills with the low pounding of drums, still distant but present behind the growling, snarled tones of his voice as he taunts the green. « C'mon and do it to me. Don't you stop! » And when the opportunity presents itself? Lukoith will make to snare the green a second time, no matter how much he has to snap and bare his teeth or even lash out with claws to drive the other males out of his path. The drums are taking over in his mind, drowning out anything else save for their frenzied pace as he seeks to put an end to this blood and flight lust that drives him to near madness with desire. Divale will return R'ku's glare, a not-so friendly one this time unlike their usual back and forth. Her lips twist into a wicked sort of grin that turns sour and agitated to her brown's shifting moods. Briefly, her eyes close and when she opens them again she already finds herself moving… and right towards S'ayde and Th'bek, her glaring following the Wingleader out when he excuses himself. There's little of her left by this point, as Lukoith makes for a second push in his attempt to catch one of the greens.

Divale's momentary capture is rewarded at least with another heated kiss, before Moanna's green flecked eyes fall on the Th'bek and R'ku wavering on her feet. Maveth's at the end of her energy, as she reaches the highest point of the thermal, and she falls.

Kabelkath is nothing if not focused - it's as though the fiery sparks in his mind are fueling him forward in his single focused desire. Even though he missed the first time, he banks sharply around in an agile move to aim directly back at Maeveth again. « There's nothing you can know that isn't known. » Orange flame licks at his mindvoice, bright with excitement as he surges forward, wings pumping furiously. « Nothing you can see that isn't shown. » Twisting to one side, he gives one last mighty downsweep as he rockets forward towards Maeveth as she falls, limbs outstretched to try to snatch her, « All you need is love! Love is all you need. » R'ku suddenly stops his pacing as the flight seems to be nearing its inevitable end. He casts one last glare in Divale and Th'bek's direction before his lust-filled eyes focus on Moanna.

Kataskiath might be trying to get the better of these boys, but something about Lukoith calls to the spy and fire in the emerald green. «To hard to flee, I got the straps on the floor, nothin' on me, and I can't take it no more , it's a hundred degrees.» Kataskiath slows, giving Lukoith time to catch up with her, his lyrics plucking her proverbial strings. «Oh just the thought of you gets me so high, so high. Boy, you're the one I want to want me, and if you want, man boy you've got me. There's nothing I, I wouldn't do, just to get up next to you!» When Lukoith makes his second attempt, he'll be successful, Kataskiath crooning and twining tails with the brown as they fly off to do what dragons do!

S'ayde's indecision is soon rectified as his green makes her choice. There's just enough sanity left in the greenriding spy to intercept Divale as she heads towards him. He grabs her round the waist, stealing a searing kiss before he grabs her hand, hauling her towards his bedroom.. He has no desire, and more respect for Moanna than to be witnness the results of her maiden flight. It'll probably save his sanity in the long run. He moves quickly, and the door clicks silently behind the pair as they disappear. Good luck boys!

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me and leave me to die?. Tavuqth's mind projects a humid heat, the rub of water in the air that Igen does not often see. A carnal quiver that something is watching is steadfast, a heightened fight or flight response the brown so readily evokes. A blue he clubs with the trailing edge on his left wing spar, a brutality to quicken his race to Kataskiath, but that siren's sung, trapped by Lukoith. A course change, an alternation of his axis as all males but the young Lukoith arrow for spitfire Maeveth. His weight in the air sinks in a pull to the ground, but it's really a force to the almost grown green, claws born into hooks.

Better not give up, better not let her down. No, literally. The spiral back to earth is a deadly one but it is Tavuqth's claws catching the young green as the swell of her colors bursts in an aurora of color and fierce joy. And it is Th'bek who will be feeling the greenrider drag him to a more approprieate space for the things to follow. There will be time later for the complete ridiculousness of the situation to wash over everyone then, poor Th'bek. Or maybe not so poor. In case anyone was wondering he does get called Sir….

Lukoith succeeds in snaring Kataskiath, reaching her first before Tavuqth can close in and triumphantly twines around her, seething darkness giving over to the madness of delight and other carnal things. He does not answer her with words, but those drums continue their rhythm as he carries her way, victorious. Far below and inside that weyr, Divale's slammed by the feedback from Lukoith's success. "Fuck…" That's the only word she'll manage to speak, just as snarled from her throat as her lifemate. There is no hesitation as she all but launches herself at S'ayde, returning the kiss without second thought and then allowing herself to be hauled off by the greenrider with not even a single look back.

Kabelkath is not one to take this loss lightly - he snarls in frustration as he swoops past Maeveth, missing the catch. It's probably possible to hear the various inventive profanities being yelled in is fiery spark of am indvoice as he flies off to go sulk. R'ku, struggling under the sudden wave of frustrated defeat from the bronze, snarls as well and sweeps a hand over the bar, sending glassware and booze bottles shattering to the floor in a spectacular cascade of broken glass and alcohol. If he were in his right mind, he'd be scandalized at breaking such a thing - bartender blasphemy! But, as it is, he's stuck reeling for the moment and is forced to stagger off and out of the Weyr. muttering his own inventive curses.

« The lake. » Tavuqth rats out his rider's location as the end of his claws crash into supple flesh. None of his mates leave as they entered, bloodied and rubbed by the spurs of his neck ridges. Maeveth will find herself bound in a lockbox of brown-black wings which open before the landscape of shield dunes. « There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed. » He sinks into the young green's mind as they separate and reascend to loop back to the Weyr.