Who

Alyna & Haquith, D'har & Searuth, Rielle & Obhaeroth, Th'res & Jedameth(cameo), Veena & Czrygheth, W'lin & Khasvith T'nim & blue Soriolth (NPCed by Ibrahim)

What

Haquith invites the boys to dance and they accept.

Mild flight stuff

When

It is sunset of the seventh day of the sixth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Garden Terrace, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 11 Mar 2018 05:00

 

Alyna_gif15.gif d-har_default.jpg rielle_default.jpg th-res_default.jpg veena_default.jpg w-lin_default.jpg
haquith_default.jpg searuth_default.jpg obhaeroth_default.jpg jedameth_default.jpg czrygheth_default.jpg khasv3.jpg

"Well it's about fucking time."


garden_terrace.jpg

Garden Terrace

Tucked-away and bejeweled, here is a hidden treasure of Southern, beckoning and beguiling those who may trod the entrance of weyrbridge: steps cut upwards, switching back and outer-railed, to terminate in a sheltered ledge of stone. Here, greenery blooms in fragrant profusion, scenting the air and quieting the minds of those who stroll amongst the cultivated rows of cultivars. Flowers, and tiny fruit-bearing trees limn the walkways. Tables and benches scatter organic throughout the rambling concourse, providing easy rest for those who challenged the stairs… or the craft shops beyond the scrolled wooden door at the innermost part of the terraced ledge.


At least it's not raining. is the prevalent thought running through Alyna's mind as she lays on a bench tucked way at the back of the garden terraces, her riding jacket bunched up under her head to cushion it. One arm is thrown lazily over her face, shielding her eyes every now and then from the sunlight that peeks through the intermittent clouds. Her other hand is holding a sealed jar of clear liquid, cradled to her chest. An almost identical jar is sitting on the ground next to the bench, unlidded and empty. One leg is outstretched, foot hanging off the end, the other bent at the knee, foot flat on the bench, boots be damned. She's wearing a worn pair of leather pants, skin peeking through several threadbare spots on her knees and thighs. Her top is a simple peasant shirt, sleeves swept off her ivory shoulders, in a pale blue that matches her eye color almost exactly. Disheveled mane of wavy blond hair is tousled and cascades over riding jacket pillow and off the edge of the bench. It looks like she's been there awhile, and any outside observer would probably guess she was sleeping.

Her dragon on the other hand has been sleeping most of the day sprawled on a ledge overlooking the lower bowl, Haquith's chartreuse hide has been growing steadily more luminous with each passing candlemark. When the light of the late afternoon hits her napping spot, her glow is unmistakable as she begins to rouse and submits all those males in the immediate vicinity with a cacophony of buzzing dragonfly wings carried on her special crisply clean floral smell with fresh lemony undertones, thick and enticing. Raising her head, the green trills gaudily to alert all and sundry that she is going to fly. « Hey boys..Who wants to dance? » She taunts them once she is sitting back on her ample haunches, shimmying them enticingly, as her whip like tail flicks to and fro, head held prettily on her curved neck, a sultry croon vibrating through her in time with the intense buzzing of her mind voice. Lime pale wingsails are half unfurled, rustling restlessly.

"Well it's about fucking time." Alyna mutters as she feels the first touch of her awakening dragon's flight lust wash over her, a familiar feeling after almost thirteen turns bonded. The fact that her green has been slowly glowing brighter for over three sevens now, which is unusually long for the sassy green, has really taken it's toll on the diminuative blonde, not to mention didn't help how she reacted to certain situations during that time. So Alyna is just so ready for it to be over. A small smirk plays on her lips as she places the jar of clear liquid down next to the empty one, wondering how many riders are going to find her in this out of the way spot, because she has no intentions of moving, her dragon's penchant for making her suitors dance to her her beat is rubbing off on the greenrider as she lets her mind sink into the soft buzz of her lifemate's mindvoice.

What's the old adage about fortune and timing? Veena isn't of mind to recall any, but she wasn't intending to stay in Southern Weyr very long. Her place is back in Black Rock Hold, as one of their watch riders. She was only suppose to be here, briefly, on duty and business. That concluded and she'd been catching up quick with some familiar faces of clutch siblings and friends, when she feels that shift in Czrygheth's awareness. Very little often rouses the blue before sunset and it doesn't take the bluerider long to pinpoint why. "… well that's a first." Or at least, a first in a long while. Veena chuckles to herself, then sighs in a resigned manner as she starts to hunt down where this shindig will be happening. Czrygheth will merely glide from his vantage point to a ledge closer to Haquith and will rumble low, while dipping his head in silent, respectful greeting. He'll dance!

Searuth, having been watching Haquith closely for some time now, can sense when something shifts, nudging D'har into motion with the carefully planted urge to search Alyna out. Then Haquith makes her initial tease, and the dark blue glides to meet her - or at least as far as he's allowed - with a crooned greeting of his own. His mindscape has condensed to a far more intimate glade compared to his sprawling midnight forest, flickers of candlelight flickering upon a shadowed stream, the feeling of intent eyes watching from the darkness of the trees unnervingly close. « I would be delighted to, my dear Haquith. » First D'har tries at the Kitten, given how much Alyna's been hitting the booze lately, then discovers she'd been seen rather unsteadily making her way up to the Garden Terrace. So there he goes, taking care on the somewhat damp steps and proceeding to search about once he arrives. Finding her all the way at the back of the Terrace, he looks down upon her with a slight tilt of his head, ebony eyes dancing with heated amusement. "Moonshine, is it?" he ventures. "Seems a bit…harsh."

Rielle wanders up to the Terrace looking rather amusedly resigned. It's her default state when Obaeroth wants to chase, since he hasn't caught but once in all his attempts thus far. She doesn't mean to doubt her lifemate, but with his record…she's already got a destination planned for once this is over. It probably involves Va'os, wherever he turns out to be. Her ambling is slow, particularly when she notices a few arrivals already. Obhaeroth will give it his all, and enthusiastic swirling of glittering dust motes ruffling the pages of the thick tome that dominates the old, carved table in the midst of his mindscape. « I'm up for it! I love a good dance. »

Stepping from the craft shops hoping to make it to the Weyr entrance and then off to the beach for some fishing, Th'res is a man on a mission. That is until Jedameth seems to get roped into this new experience as the usual curious and friendly blue wings down to join the other dragons. Th'res is very lost right now as he is more a wherry in the dragon sights for the moment but resigns himself to joining in he walks over and finds a seat out of the way, pulling out his own jar from his hip satchel…Seems Alyna has been raiding his stash of shine.

Khasvith doesn't miss much, and he's especially been interested in the glowings-on of the greens of his new home. He hasn't done much to make an impression any of them; watching and observing is enough for the shadow-sculpted bronze, until the came. And indeed, waiting and biding his time has been fruitful. It's Haquith's siren call that draws the Telgari-born dragon from his exploring high above the heavy jungle canopy, sending him directly her way with a determined bellow. « Mine, » is his direct reply, pungent earth scents fragrantly accompanying his growled statement of possessiveness. "Shit and a half, Khasv! Now!?" Halfway through a dedicated perusal of the Weyr archives, it's a deeply disappointed and disheveled W'lin who rushes to find the rider associated with Haquith's flight. He sadly going to have to spend some time staggering around the Weyr, because he's new and he doesn't know WHO THIS PERSON IS. He might be wandering around for hours. He might get lucky. Stay tuned.

Soriolth is here — a midnight blue wearing a cloak of stars and something wicked across the tip of his nose: a random streak of lavender like a thumbprint. He's drowsing like a true champion until that challenging cry wakes him up. «What's this?» Had he actual ears, they'd be pricked with interest right now. «A dance? Yes, I do believe I have time…» Somewhere in the Garden, T'nim is rolling his dark eyes and grumbling beneath his breath — it's so inconvenient, just when he thought he had a little more time to explore this lovely garden!

And what good shine it is too, she'll thank Th'res later. When Alyna is discovered by D'har, she merely smirks up at him, "It's been a harsh couple sevens." and then the rest of the riders of those males being called by her green's offer of a dance. So with some reluctance, and with a sway that betrays how much she's drunk already, the blond will sit up before reaching for and opening the full jar, taking a long swig as easy as if it were water. In the Lower Bowl, Haquith turns her head first to the unfamiliar Czrygheth, flipping a wing in his direction. Then Searuth is there and she can't help but croon softly in the dark blue's directions. Brown Obhaeroth is given the once over and the green likes what she sees. To Jedameth a playfull trill as she wraps him up in her floral scent. But Khasvith, who calls out in that possessive way, will elicit a loud hiss from the green. « Don't get ahead of yourself, you have to catch me first. » Soriolth is given a wide eyed, coquettish look when he arrives. And then, with little warning except for a subtle shimmy of her hips, Haquith bunches her powerful hindquarters up under her and launches herself into the air with one powerful leap, leaving them all behind as she arrows straight up into the sky.

Brash and to the point! Czrygheth approves of Haquith's boldness and with an almost amused and rolling rumbled sound he will gather himself under powerful haunches and limbs and spring aloft after her bright glowing form. Sluggishness is shed like a rough skin; the blue is rapidly folding into his element as he climbs the thermals in his pursuit, as steadily and silent as any predatory shadow. Below, Veena is turned around twice before she's finally on the right path towards the Terrace. No doubt aided by the influx of other riders all veering towards the same location — telling sign, that! Even now that she can spot Alyna, the young bluerider holds back to regroup. "Faranth's sake," she mutters between breaths. "Forgot how this place is a literal maze!" But she's here!

What's this? No blooding? Searuth is quite happy to just be off, diving from his perch to gain speed and snapping star-sheened wings open to to surge upward with a bright, clear bugle announcing his chase. In mind, he hovers close, an enticing musk lingering at the edge of scent. Breath sighs teasingly against the neck, heat passes from skin to skin without touching, a heavy cloak flutters in the breeze and teases an enfolding. « And you dance so beautifully from the start, » he declares, his voice a deep whisper of seduction, playing about the ear like smoke around an extinguished candle. D'har utters a low, deep laugh, sighing as he feels the elated determination of Searuth's pursuit wash over him. "I certainly can't argue that," he counters, and registers the others in his periphery. But just as his dragon is intent on Haquith, so is the bluerider intent on Alyna. "Please don't make yourself sick off that," he half-teases as he watches her take that swig. "I do know some hangover cures, but…" Better to avoid one altogether. Probably a bit late for that now, though.

« Woohoo! » No mistaking Obhaeroth as a gust of glimmering, mote-laden breeze flings the pages of his mystical tome wide for the minds of all to read, inked words and painted illustrations coming into focus as a lily-pad laden pond flanked by babbling cascade. The buzzing of Haquith's mind is rendered into dozens of dragonflies, the brown himself manifesting as a small, shaggy grey puppy making careful little bounds upon the pads, trying to catch one without falling in. Rielle chuckles and rubs a hand over her eyes as she takes in this attempt at enticing Haquith, looking up as Veena arrives. "At least it's a relatively straightforward maze?" she ventures. "I swear I've been to a Hold or two that's worse."

Haquith's hiss and subsequent brush off only aids in entertaining the bronze further, as he eases into the chase, behind some of the quicker suitors, with powerful wing strokes. « Tease, » Khasvith retorts, verdant jungle vines twisting their way into his words. It's not quite a direct statement: He loves a challenge, and it only quickens his desire for the jaunty green. He's not worried about the other males - he's too assured of his own win. W'lin had to stop for directions. "Take a.. a left? And then a right.. uh huh.."

Soriolth eyes Haquith right back, curving his neck to better expose the slim, graceful lines, the beauty of his sleek young body — but wait, she's gone, up into the sky. He's up and after her like a shot, wings beating the air as he crows in delight. A dance! A sky dance! T'nim comes wandering through the garden, trailing flowers — from his hair, his fingers; what was he doing back there, anyway? Don't ask if you know what's good for you. Where's that rider, anyway… here, a turn, there, a turn, everywhere a turn-turn. But finally, he comes upon the swaying Alyna, and smiles. "Hey." He greets, wry.

As the crowd of riders continues to grow around her, Alyna can feel herself bristling for a moment at D'har and how he tries to tell her what not to do. That will earn him a piercing icy gaze as she takes another full swig, smacking her lips dramatically. But then she feels her dragon take to the skies and experinces that familiar layering of their two identities into one, her body seeming to vibrate with Haquith's mindbuzz. Rising higher and higher, lime green wingsails pumping and free, Haquish swishes her tail and hindquarters teasingly at her pursuers. When called a tease, though she bugles her mirth at that statement, « You haven't seen anything yet. » And true to her word, the green dragon suddenly veers, wings pulled to her side as she turns on her tail to dive back at the pursuing pack. Just as she is almost in reach of the males, wings snap open with force as she corners sharply to the left, tight circles pirouetting her up up and away, a resonating mental giggle trailing after her pursuers as she dances off. Alyna's eyes close now as she clutches at the bench to keep from swaying too badly.

Czrygheth doesn't quite fall for Haquith's trap and trickery, but the blue will sharply dip from his previous path and turn almost on wingtip to keep from being thrown off. « Impressive! » His deep bass voice rolls out, smoky growled tones meshing with an implied grin, among the endless night of his mind, while an alien city of stone and metal glows vibrantly below. Still tempted by the lure of her, he presses onwards in single-minded determinedness. Veena takes a deep breath, rooted as she is to the ground physically even if her mind is trying to tell her otherwise. "Black Rock was like that," she admits with a faint grin to Rielle. Pardon her distractedness! Or the lack of salutes or any form of proper greeting. Her gaze turns to Alyna, to study her a moment but the bluerider does not approach.

D'har only has an increasingly rakish grin to counter Alyna's gaze, the glittering of his ebony eyes increasing as Searuth's hold tightens bit by bit. At least he made it a request and not a demand! Searuth's mental tone is a rolling baritone laugh in counterpoint to Haquith's giggle, somewhat wicked as the sensation of fingertips teased along bared skin glides across the mind link, candlelight flickering upon flowing water, the press of the trees ensconcing a midnight tryst. He veers after her agilely, his lean form well suited to following such a maneuver despite lacking Haquith's finesse. « A worthier pursuit shall never be found, beautiful one. »

Oh, she's gonna play that game is she? Soriolth veers left as Haquith comes diving out of nowhere at them all «Clever girl!» and wheels after her, streaking under the wing of a bigger brown and sidling past a blue or two. «But I, I shall keep up with you.» And onward he goes, reeking of youthful desperation. Them hips don't lie, and they have him entranced! Meanwhile, T'nim is all the facepalming, heartily wishing himself elsewhere; his dragon's overt desire to catch this particular green is quite embarassing — even as the dragon-link slowly comes to weigh more in his mind. Maybe they'll both get through this if someone doesn't lose his grip… whether it be human or dragon remains to be seen.

Frustration rolls off of W'lin in waves when he finally he breaks through the flowering trees, swatting petals from his hair. "You," he says, raggedly, blue eyes catching the same fire to be found in Khasvith's projecting mind voice. Undoubtedly, the bronzerider is speaking of Alyna, whom he makes his way towards without a thought for any of the other riders lingering about; like dragon, like rider. Should someone get shoved out of the way on his path to the greenrider, so be it. Later, he'll apologize, but for now there is only longing and resolve and irascibility. « You are cunning, » Khasvith tells Haquith, feeding her the compliment with a heavy dose of appreciation. He is not as quick to turn as some of the other, but he recovers well, barreling towards the green, the sun catching glints of magma in his sails.

Rielle stops to lean a hip and shoulder against a nearby tree, folding her arms and watching the greenrider across the way intently. "Exactly," she says to Veena's mention of Black Rock, a quick grin shot to the bluerider. She doesn't care that she's not getting any salutes; it's a flight, and no one is in duty mode. The flower-trailing T'nim is surveyed and smirked at, and W'lin is given a distracted once-over or teal eyes before before one of Obhaeroth's antics makes her wince. He's caught off guard by Haquith's turn - typical - but takes right off after her again, ever eager. "He still hasn't learned to anticipate that," she mutters, sighing heavily.

Haquith's hips don't lie indeed, and the way they are shimmying and shaking as if they have a mind of their own. In an impressive display of what a green lady can do, she twirls and dips, drops and then rises again higher, lust providing the rhythm for her moves as she trills and warbles as she curls her neck back at the pack, surveyring each male in turn, her gaze focused instead of wild. Now which one is the most worthy of her as a prize? Her mind pond ripples subtly as she skips from lily pad to lily pad, each softly muffled splash raising a thick wafting of her signature lily-of-the-valley scent which reaches out along the mind link. Another long trill of joy and she is off again, her aerial two-step jiving her across the early evening sky, forgotten is everything but making these males dance to her tune. Alyna is no longer here though, she is with her dragon, as her breathing catches in her throat with each cunning turn her lifemate makes in the air above the Weyr.

Natural rhythms and following instinct's path is all something Czrygheth can grasp and understand! He'll leave Haquith to display her skill, silent in his admiration of the glowing green's abilities. A worthy challenge! Dance to her tune he will,
matching the rhythm in eerie tandem from a distance until the right time. Just as she gave no warning, neither will he — once he sees his chance, he does not hesitate and throws himself into the cause. All his strength, what remains of it, is put to sweeping beat of his wings as he builds speed and height, only to then fold them and plummet, aiming to come at Haquith from above and evade those who may get in his way. As distance closes, his talons stretch out, readying… And below, Veena merely closes her eyes and sets her jaws as she waits for the fallout, whichever way things may swing.

D'har is steadily shifting closer, more and more fully wrapped up in Searuth. The blue bugles his appreciation of Haquith's aerobatics, swerving with her twirling, diving with her dipping and dropping and throwing in a tightly spiraling barrel roll of his own as he gains his peak momentum. He stretches to reach her, yearning and sure, the dark cloak of his mind billowing closer around her with a caressing night breeze in the hidden twilight glade of his mind. Gooseflesh rises with feathered breath and touch, lips hover at the neck, a claiming imminent if no resistance to the hypnotic pull of a dark lover is to be had. « Come to me, dear Haquith. Let me be the one to bear you through the night. »

Rielle finally moves with more dedicated purpose, pushing away from the tree and beginning to close some distance toward Alyna. Obhaeroth is not as fast as the blues, but he is lean and capable of quite a bit of momentum when it's properly aimed. He's actually rather adept at that…though it may not be enough to lessen the gap. Still, the little mental puppy of his crouches and wriggles on the lily pad, golden eyes fixed upon a lime green and emerald dragonfly as he readies to pounce. As some of the other chasers do, he folds his wings tight and dives to gain speed, unfurling them again and rising powerfully in hopes of coming up closer behind than anyone's anticipating.

Oh, a two-step! That's a new one! Soriolth will try something else: not dancing at all. He'll try aiming at her from the side, streaking like a falling star; reaching, reaching — will he make it? One never knows the value of a well-timed duck and roll, there. T'nim will slowly inch a bit closer, wondering what the result of his blue's final gamnit will be.

Sweetness like sticky honey from the comb and the salty tang of bright blue waters are the promises Khasvith lays down at the feet of Haquith, if she chooses him. He can't make the promises of time and unparalleled love - they're only meant for the day - but he's ardent about his intentions, pressing her with the ferventness of his mind touch. When he catches a break in the line of passionate chasers, to slip forward and reach for the green, he does not hesitate to aim to catch her up in his grasp. W'lin isn't being casual about being overcome with the flight and his dragon's emotions, and shares a heated moment with a brownrider when he accidentally trods on that man's toes. They glare. They posture. They look about they're about to start flexing it out, but Khasvith's attempt at catching the green has the bronzerider's eyes flicking back to Alyna, his jaw tightening with inaction.

Finally Haquith has chosen her partner for this dance as she veers just in time to miss Czrygheth and Soriolth's attempts at catching her. « Sorry boys! » she calls back playfully with a long croon. Obhaeroth is certainly cute as she skims past him with a taunting warble. She almost gets caught in the sticky sweetness of Khasvith but before he can quite reach her, she slips into the dark cloak of Searuth's mind, as the dark blue's reaching catches hold of her as she joins him for their big finale, « Dearest blue, shall we? » Alyna gasps softly as her icy blue eyes flutter open and meet the ebony gaze of D'har who had been shifting steadily closer, a soft smirk curling the corners of her mouth.

Alas, it was not to be! Czrygheth growls in frustration but leaves it be. Such is the risk of these flights and disappointment is born well, as the blue drifts away to find somewhere to land and recover. Veena will exhale heavily, letting go of held breath as she clicks her tongue. "For the best," she mutters and starts to turn to walk away. Whether or not she ends up leaving alone? Well, that's for the bluerider to know. It's not like she'll be getting back to Black Rock anytime soon!

Obhaeroth makes his grab and fails, and that grey puppy of his belly flops unceremoniously into his mental pond, the splash of water darkening at the edges into ink the bleeds into the edges of the ancient page that contains this tale. Another comedy of errors in the books! Rielle lets out a whoosh of breath, flushing as her brown's flight lust ebbs from her mind. A sympathetically wry graze is cast over those left, flickering briefly to Alyna and her winning rider before the Serval wingleader turns and makes a brisk exit down the stairs. Time to make good on getting to that intended destination! Whether or not her intentions prove to be convenient for her intended target will come to light soon enough.

Khasvith is the sorest of sore losers, veins of liquid fire destroying all he had built for the green in his promises, stripping everything back to inky black soil. « What a waste. » He drops altitude as he backwings away, putting as much distance between him and other dragons as possible; he has to go sulk. Ire flashes across W'lin's face and then eases, and a sigh of relief leaves him before he turns, still looking mildly frazzled, and motions to that brownrider he tried to fight. "Buy you a drink," he mutters weakly. He'll exit the garden with the other dragonrider, heading to the closest bar and the succor of a mind-numbing drink.

Sorielth is the most dejected of the dejected, floating off like a bit of chaff, while his rider finds himself some company elsewhere to work off that buildup of excitement.

Victory! The cloak enfolds, the embrace completes, a tightly-knit tableau of shadowed desires forming in the twilight glade Searuth has reserved for himself and his intended. With a triumphant bellow he catches Haquith to him, necks and tails snugly entwining as D'har reaches down to catch Alyna up against him. He's going to spirit her off to somewhere secluded nearby as quickly as he can manage, playing out the success of his lifemate's chase well away from other eyes.

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