(07.15.2761 - GOLDFLIGHT) Mission: Augment Tomorrow (attn: Embyr/Xyxith, ANY/ALL)

[Betsy]

Xyxith was positively glowing, and Embyr looked a little bit like
death. Of course, one of them had spent the Gather flirting with eager
suitors, both those familiar and those imported for the occasion,
while the other had essentially stalked the first, so submerged within
the psychic bond that she was only peripherally aware of her own
surroundings, haggardly alert for any whiff of drowsiness that might
waft across that primal link.

Guess which one was which.

It hadn’t helped that Xyxith’s proddiness was making the gold
especially miserable this time around, and she’d decided that the one
victim who had the best evidence to not take it personally was Embyr,
and so that was her target. Embyr was doing her best to hang in there…
but it wasn’t easy. For the sevenday before the Gather she was more
than willing to retort right back, and sometimes the game of zinger
and counter-zinger had engaged the gold enough to lift the dragon’s
mood – either that or one of them would say something clever enough to
make them both laugh, and that broke the tension. But being surrounded
by males at the Gather had made Xyxith’s hormones soar, and she’d
teased Embyr relentlessly with promises of rising any minute. Two
whole days of walking around through crowds of people who saw her get
fecked last year, with assurances ringing merrily in her head that the
show was about to happen again!

Ugh.

When they’d gotten back from second night at the Gather, Embyr had
marched her dragon into the large first chamber that held the gold’s
couch, grabbed one of Xyxith’s nostrils to pull her head closer, and
yelled into one of the queen’s eyes:

“HAVING HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE SEE ME GET FECKED WAS NOT LIBERATING! IT
WAS NOT INVIGORATING, IT WAS NOT CATHARTIC.” Deep breath. “If I
remembered any of it, the awkwardness would be paralytic. As it is,
it’s just annoying as feck. So we are NOT going to talk about it
anymore. This is an official veto.”

Two soft words had sighed into the goldrider’s mind, equal parts
sullen and sincere: ((Veto accepted.)) And that had settled the issue…
for the rest of the evening, at least. But Xyxith had come by her
Gather antics honestly – the sun had been high and bright for the last
two days, the tantalizing heat of its rays quickened the flow of lust
beneath her golden hide. It was luck as much as anything that the
young queen hadn’t triggered and been hauled home during the Gather
itself, but the very next day, back at home… a simmer reached a boil.

The sun blazed hot above the sight of Xyxith sprawled across a
wind-worn stretch of the Rim, deep in sleep and yet far from dormant.
The rich sheen of her hide seemed almost alive and very awake in its
own right, hungrily soaking in the bright rays until the molten glow
all but pulsed and roiled across every angle of her form. There was an
intensity to the sight of her that belied the doze that gripped her
conscious mind… but the sunlight was feeding something deep, and now
that something stirred.

The golden spade of her tail slowly lifted, dropping back down to the
stone with just a bit more of a smack than gravity alone would allow
for. And that single motion was as if a cog had begun to turn, setting
a whole system of gears into motion. A heavy tension rippled slowly
through her body, as if testing each muscle in sequence, and lastly it
was her quick mind that whirred fully to life, her consciousness
rousing to the strident cacophony of vice: hunger, violence, speed,
heat, power, lust… Her jeweled eyes snapped open and gleamed like two
enormous rubies, as a low, tense whisper began within her mind as she
surged to her feet, the projection of her thoughts pulsing
ever-outwards with each new hyper-focused fragment – ((Flesh. Meat.
Life. Death.)) She leaped into the open air, allowing her wings to
spread languidly to catch the wind as she glided toward the feeding
pens. ((The notion of violent consumption excites the salivary
glands.))

[[And saliva is inferior to blood!]] The reminder was a hard shout
into the bond, the intensity of Embyr's concentration on her gold
causing her to smack her shoulder on the doorframe of her office as
she skidded into the hallway and stumbled purposefully toward her
weyr. Thank Faranth it was pretty much next door, because if she had
to sprint to get anywhere FAR, she’d probably run smack into a wall
before she got halfway. Xyxith in this bizarre, primal state was so
compelling to Embyr attention that the imperative of where to put her
feet had trouble getting priority.

Tracking the sweep of her shadow over the ground below, Xyxith twisted
and roiled in the air, descending with the aim of letting her shadow
startle no herdbeast… lower and lower, until suddenly she turned hard
and all but dropped from the air with a rapid, intent whisper – ((It
is believed that the capacity for awareness – and therefor pain –
resides in the brain – )) – and CRUNCHED a herdbeast’s head into the
dirt. ((Without awareness life becomes meat.)) Her jaws parted,
dropping hungrily toward the fresh kill’s rounded belly –

[[BLOOD IT! You add ballast and I will smack you – blood’s your fuel,
now BLOOD IT!]]

The snarl that curled Xyxith’s golden lips and tightened her throat
was equal parts obstinate and voracious, but Embyr grip was firm and
the goldrider was digging in with all her own considerable
stubbornness, all but dragging the gold’s head over by sheer force of
you-rose-at-the-Gather-last-time-you-will-NOT-best-me-again will. And
so the queen’s eager maw fastened suddenly upon neck, not gut, her
teeth piercing into the vital reservoir of blood within the beast… and
then what she’d thought was hunger she now found was indeed thirst,
and she drank deeply of the vital stuff, a rush of clarity sharpening
her hormone-tunneled focus. Yes, she needed to drink… and then she
would FLY.



OOC: This takes place at about 1:15 PM the day after the Gather. The
flight is open to anyone who cares to participate, and the winner is
not predetermined. Have fun! ^_^

--
- Betsy

AIM: Suboshigrl
MSN: Subos...@hotmail.com
Yahoo: Sueshijuu

[Allison Herzig]

J'rak rarely indulged.  He didn't drink, he didn't sleep around, feck, he barely even slept most nights.  All he ever did was nap.  Sometimes.  When the weyrlings were busy.  It was harmless and it relaxed him.  So what?  He was allowed.  Right?  And when someone decided to interrupt one of those naps...well, it was J'rak's fecking right to be well and truly pissed off.  Especially if it was the day after the Gather.  Especially if that someone was his own bronze dragon.

[[What, Osirith?  I have the shift off, remember?  I've been up on patrol all night, ran drills at the crack of dawn...I'm sleeping.]]

((Xyxith rises,)) Osirith said simply, ((I chase.))

[[Really, Osirith?  Again?]] J'rak groaned, tossing on a somewhat respectable tunic and straightening out his hair.  There were thick bags under his eyes, but he was awake.  And alert...mostly.  Shards, he hated mating flights, [[Must we?]]

((Yes,)) Osirith urged, surging up into the air to take his place around the weyrbowl.  A shot of awareness shot through J'rak...and suddenly he wasn't so tired any more.  Osirith's eyes whirled a hungry red as he watched Xyxith, muscles bunched tightly beneath him as he surveyed the competition.  He was ready.

OOC: Hope giving him a break is all right!  I figure they have to give whoever's on the night shift some time off and they need to have someone patrolling at night.  If not, let me know and I can edit.  :)

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[Arielle]

They were in the middle of lessons, of drills, of practicing the necessities of their craft, and Xyxith Rose. Had they been younger, it might not have been a problem, but for the first time Polloth wanted to, needed to chase. And he would. It was his right and his duty. At his current size, he was past the smallest length of a full grown bronze. While he would certainly get bigger, the young warrior believed his youth should not stop him from fulfilling his nature-given duty. And that was to chase and please a queen, to sire the next generation of dragons should she pick him. It was the least he could hope and he believed he could do it, especially for Xyxith. She was more cerebral than Channith, who would think a challenge from a whelp such as him was insubordination and laughable. But he had a chance at Xyxith and he wanted to test the air.

Le'car, mounted and strapped to his dragon's back, felt the young bronze go rigid beneath him and knew the instant his lifemate did what the plan was. [[At least let me get out of the straps before you go haring off after her, alright?]] Polloth broke rank and landed, impatient for his rider to do as asked, wanting to get at least one blooded kill in to give his youthful strength an edge against the more mature dragons who would soon rise for their queen. When Lea fumbled at one buckle, his glimmering partner growled, uncharacteristically so. [[Shush, you'll be after her soon,]] he said, equally impatient now that the lust was infecting his blood and brain too. In a breath Le'car was on the ground and Polloth was off, his straps still around his chest and back, no hindrance to his motion.

The young man stumbled away from his classmates, lips tight with contained emotions, while his bronze was off like a shot to the beast pens, bringing down his own snack. The herdbeast's skin tore beneath his claws and teeth like butter to a hot knife and Polloth sucked up the hot blood ravenously. He would need it all if he were to have any chance, truly. He wanted to give his best to Xyxith; she deserved only his best. Meanwhile, Le'car continued away from the barracks and the class he'd just left, trying to remember which was the Junior Weyrwoman's weyr. It was lucky that all of the goldriders' weyrs were on the ground level, or else he might have had trouble arriving on time. Nearly falling down as he attempted to scramble up the steps, he finally found his way to Embyr's quarters, entering cautiously, hoping not to offend the older rider with his youth or his dragon's audacity, despite their understandable reasons.

Blood staining his jaw, Polloth watched as Xyxith went about her own blooding, glimmering in the sunlight, much brighter than he, though he was undeniably more glowing than any of his competition could hope to be. It was one of his assets, as well as his naturally athletic build, that made him think he had even a slim chance at winning. Either way, he was ready to chase when Xyxith wanted to fly.

[Geo]

He'd been waiting for this for some time now. It was her time to fly, and while all were called to the chase, this was special. Umbeleth didn't chase just any gold. She'd been growing brighter the past couple of days, and he intended to win. He knew the competition now, had done this twice and won. Today, taking into account surprises and unforeseen variables, he would chase her again and win. He knew he would be targeted. Bronzes were jealous of their companionship, and browns looked at him in envy. Today he'd prove again why that was so. 

Crouched low, Umbeleth finished blooding his own herdbeast and watched the competition warily. Glancing at Xyxith he debated speaking a moment, then contented himself with a low encouragement. ((Fly high and fly far. I shall endeavor to do the same.)) He was dimly aware of his rider stumbling into Embyr's Weyr, that was all well and good. His boy had other concerns on his mind but they would wait. He never took his eyes off the prize, but was dimly aware of other joining the crowd. Young and old, bronze and brown. Like always it would be a close run thing. Eyes flushed red the brown crouched in readiness, when she took to the sky he would be moments behind. 

----

[[Do ye really 'ave to pull this t'day- don't answer tha'. Get y'er shiny self down there.]] Grumbling about golds and how they always seemed to fly at the work possible time, G'ste put down the straps he'd been working on. It was Xyxith this time, and he was very away that they had a chance for the first time. Sohruth wasn't a novice at this anymore. He'd won more than his fair share of Illy's flights, and was in excellent form. As his bronze blooded a kill, the bronze rider walked briskly towards the goldrider's Weyr. Much as he yearned to win a flight, and see a clutch of their own on the sands, Kale would certainly be waiting for him if it didn't happen this time. Standing against a wall, he felt Sohruth finish blooding as his own blood started to rise. "Right fello. 'Ere we go.' 

The bronze crouched low, waiting. This would be his day, no-one would dare stand in his path. When the gold sprang to flight, he followed with a roar.

Geo~

~The Boys 

[Betsy]

OOC: I'll be posting my next bit on Sunday night. Writers are welcome
to join in after that if anyone's AFK right now, since there'll be NPC
browns and bronzes assumed to be participating, but sooner is better
than later because after they get airborne I'll try to provide
responses that acknowledge all IC chasers. ^_^

[Betsy]

J'rak rarely indulged.  He didn't drink, he didn't sleep around, feck, he barely even slept most nights.  All he ever did was nap.  Sometimes.  When the weyrlings were busy.  It was harmless and it relaxed him.  So what?  He was allowed.  Right?  And when someone decided to interrupt one of those naps...well, it was J'rak's fecking right to be well and truly pissed off.  Especially if it was the day after the Gather.  Especially if that someone was his own bronze dragon

[[What, Osirith?  I have the shift off, remember?  I've been up on patrol all night, ran drills at the crack of dawn...I'm sleeping.]]

((Xyxith rises,)) Osirith said simply, ((I chase.))

[[Really, Osirith?  Again?]] J'rak groaned, tossing on a somewhat respectable tunic and straightening out his hair.  There were thick bags under his eyes, but he was awake.  And alert...mostly.  Shards, he hated mating flights, [[Must we?]]

((Yes,)) Osirith urged, surging up into the air to take his place around the weyrbowl.  A shot of awareness shot through J'rak...and suddenly he wasn't so tired any more.  Osirith's eyes whirled a hungry red as he watched Xyxith, muscles bunched tightly beneath him as he surveyed the competition.  He was ready.

~~~~~

They were in the middle of lessons, of drills, of practicing the necessities of their craft, and Xyxith Rose. Had they been younger, it might not have been a problem, but for the first time Polloth wanted to, needed to chase. And he would. It was his right and his duty. At his current size, he was past the smallest length of a full grown bronze. While he would certainly get bigger, the young warrior believed his youth should not stop him from fulfilling his nature-given duty. And that was to chase and please a queen, to sire the next generation of dragons should she pick him. It was the least he could hope and he believed he could do it, especially for Xyxith. She was more cerebral than Channith, who would think a challenge from a whelp such as him was insubordination and laughable. But he had a chance at Xyxith and he wanted to test the air.

Le'car, mounted and strapped to his dragon's back, felt the young bronze go rigid beneath him and knew the instant his lifemate did what the plan was. [[At least let me get out of the straps before you go haring off after her, alright?]] Polloth broke rank and landed, impatient for his rider to do as asked, wanting to get at least one blooded kill in to give his youthful strength an edge against the more mature dragons who would soon rise for their queen. When Lea fumbled at one buckle, his glimmering partner growled, uncharacteristically so. [[Shush, you'll be after her soon,]] he said, equally impatient now that the lust was infecting his blood and brain too. In a breath Le'car was on the ground and Polloth was off, his straps still around his chest and back, no hindrance to his motion.

The young man stumbled away from his classmates, lips tight with contained emotions, while his bronze was off like a shot to the beast pens, bringing down his own snack. The herdbeast's skin tore beneath his claws and teeth like butter to a hot knife and Polloth sucked up the hot blood ravenously. He would need it all if he were to have any chance, truly. He wanted to give his best to Xyxith; she deserved only his best. Meanwhile, Le'car continued away from the barracks and the class he'd just left, trying to remember which was the Junior Weyrwoman's weyr. It was lucky that all of the goldriders' weyrs were on the ground level, or else he might have had trouble arriving on time. Nearly falling down as he attempted to scramble up the steps, he finally found his way to Embyr's quarters, entering cautiously, hoping not to offend the older rider with his youth or his dragon's audacity, despite their understandable reasons.

Blood staining his jaw, Polloth watched as Xyxith went about her own blooding, glimmering in the sunlight, much brighter than he, though he was undeniably more glowing than any of his competition could hope to be. It was one of his assets, as well as his naturally athletic build, that made him think he had even a slim chance at winning. Either way, he was ready to chase when Xyxith wanted to fly.

~~~~~

He'd been waiting for this for some time now. It was her time to fly, and while all were called to the chase, this was special. Umbeleth didn't chase just any gold. She'd been growing brighter the past couple of days, and he intended to win. He knew the competition now, had done this twice and won. Today, taking into account surprises and unforeseen variables, he would chase her again and win. He knew he would be targeted. Bronzes were jealous of their companionship, and browns looked at him in envy. Today he'd prove again why that was so.

Crouched low, Umbeleth finished blooding his own herdbeast and watched the competition warily. Glancing at Xyxith he debated speaking a moment, then contented himself with a low encouragement. ((Fly high and fly far. I shall endeavor to do the same.)) He was dimly aware of his rider stumbling into Embyr's Weyr, that was all well and good. His boy had other concerns on his mind but they would wait. He never took his eyes off the prize, but was dimly aware of other joining the crowd. Young and old, bronze and brown. Like always it would be a close run thing. Eyes flushed red the brown crouched in readiness, when she took to the sky he would be moments behind.

~~~~~

[[Do ye really 'ave to pull this t'day- don't answer tha'. Get y'er shiny self down there.]] Grumbling about golds and how they always seemed to fly at the work possible time, G'ste put down the straps he'd been working on. It was Xyxith this time, and he was very away that they had a chance for the first time. Sohruth wasn't a novice at this anymore. He'd won more than his fair share of Illy's flights, and was in excellent form. As his bronze blooded a kill, the bronze rider walked briskly towards the goldrider's Weyr. Much as he yearned to win a flight, and see a clutch of their own on the sands, Kale would certainly be waiting for him if it didn't happen this time. Standing against a wall, he felt Sohruth finish blooding as his own blood started to rise. "Right fello. 'Ere we go.'

The bronze crouched low, waiting. This would be his day, no-one would dare stand in his path. When the gold sprang to flight, he followed with a roar.

~~~~~

After much rapid stumbling, Embyr reached her weyr with reality narrowed down to tunnel-vision, her periphery dissolving into the scene before her gold. As she staggered to the couch and leaned against it for stability, the steady rhythm of her heart thudding hard within her chest, an eager, exhilarated grin spread suddenly across the goldrider’s face – this time wasn’t last time, and sweet feckamadoodle did she feel alive, so vitally enmeshed in the bond, in her Xyxith, that it was all but ecstasy. Brilliant, absurd, eccentric ecstasy.

As Xyxith slurped hungrily at the throat of her third herdbeast, her burnished hide seemed all but liquid, the light flowing like water to highlight every primed cord of muscle. The corpse thoroughly drained, the small queen lifted her blood-slick muzzle and swung her head around, surveying the remaining herdbeasts… it happened suddenly, the blood settling warm in her gut as a flood of clarity lit the world in blazing colors, and she initiated the next phase. Her words were soft compared to her previous statements – ((The culmination of death must be life for life to be sustained…)) – but the powerful leap that had her suddenly rocketing skywards was accompanied by a shout: ((WHOSE PURPOSE WILL AUGMENT TOMORROW?))

And as neatly Xyxith found her thermal and sped higher and higher, farther and farther below Embyr’s vision dissolved into nothing but the sky. Time to fly.

[Arielle]

The young bronze had been debating taking down a second herdbeast when his golden prey decided she had had enough. Polloth was off like an arrow after Xyxith when she rocketed into the sky, his wings sure and strong and carrying him after her through the air. Le'car could only bear down and hold on to his senses, following his dragon through the air, digging his fingers into the fabric of his pants. His pulse was pounding in his ears and he was one with his bronze as Polloth replied to Xyxith's challenge with a roar, the roar of a young king coming for his due.

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<As Xyxith slurped hungrily at the throat of her third herdbeast, her burnished hide seemed all but liquid, the light flowing like water to highlight every primed cord of muscle. The corpse thoroughly drained, the small queen lifted her blood-slick muzzle and swung her head around, surveying the remaining herdbeasts… it happened suddenly, the blood settling warm in her gut as a flood of clarity lit the world in blazing colors, and she initiated the next phase. Her words were soft compared to her previous statements – ((The culmination of death must be life for life to be sustained…)) – but the powerful leap that had her suddenly rocketing skywards was accompanied by a shout: ((WHOSE PURPOSE WILL AUGMENT TOMORROW?))>>

With a bugling trumpet of glee and excitement, Kaminath launched himself after Xyxith.

((I'd augment your tomorrow any time, beautiful!)) the brown called out to her cheerfully. ((I shoot for the moon and break through the stars, kicking reason to the curb to go beyond the impossible! The thunderous Wingthird who's twice as hot as an erupting volcano, who do you think I am? THE MIGHTY KAMINATH!)) With that exuberant speech delivered, he high-tailed it after the rising queen.


--Cheshire w/ Kaminath

[Betsy]

OOC: Next post going out sometime this weekend. ^_^

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[alld...@gmail.com]

OOC: thanks for the warning! I've had a crazy week but I'll try and get something out first. Sorry for the delay

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

---

From: Betsy <bfio...@gmail.com>

Sender: easte...@googlegroups.com

Date: Fri, 24 May 2013 19:09:18 -0400

To: <easte...@googlegroups.com>

ReplyTo: easte...@googlegroups.com

Subject: Re: [EasternWeyr] (07.15.2761 - GOLDFLIGHT) Mission: Augment Tomorrow (attn: Embyr/Xyxith, ANY/ALL)

[Geo]

Up she went, and so he followed. Mid-pack for a start, but that was alright. Umbeleth quickly navigated towards the outside of the pack, to one side. Wings straining on the wind, the brown wanted an outside upper corner of the box. The higher in the figurative box, the better chance he had for a diving catch. And if she happened to break for his corner, it'd be that much easier to angle in. The other corner worried him, but it was an acceptable risk, and fueled by desire he flew onwards. Down below, T'ral found himself fully enveloped in the sky and the chase and found himself moving like his brown. Outside of the huddle for now. There would be time later to make a move for the prize. 

----

Sohruth took a more direct route. Barreling upwards after the queen, he roared into the center of the pack, eyes focused on the golden streak ahead and above of him. Body language told a lot about what a flyer would do, and ancients help any competitor who got in the way. Snarling, he shot past a smaller brown who attempted to cut him off, and cut above a bronze. She had to fly a good while longer, but when she was ready it would be him and the front of the pack, ready to grab her from the skies. The bronze was set on winning this. Couldn't not win this one.

Geo~

The bnoys

[Allison Herzig]

((That would be mine, if you please,)) Osirith replied genially, taking off from the rim with a sudden lunge, tossing the herdbeast he'd been bloodying casually to the ground.  Seeing another dragon besides him, a small brown of a rather dull, ordinary color, Osirith called, ((Sorry little brown, but this one's mine.))

With a sudden burst of speed, he broke ahead towards the front, lust pulsing through him.  Osirith had forgotten how much he loved the chase, feeling the full power of his wings pulsing through him as he shot through the sky after a tantalizing glimpse of gold.  His wings ached pleasantly with the strain as he struggled to keep up his speed.  He was a bronze, a scion of the North.  This was what he was made for.

Scanning the sky, Osirith tried to predict which way Xyxith would dart next, without losing his position in the pack.  He was near the front, just one row of chasers ahead of him.  So close, so desperately close...He could do this.  They were just Eastern dragons, lacked his discipline, his training...

((Feck!)) Osirith thought as he suddenly jolted back to reality as a brown brushed past him rushing ahead.  He'd fallen back to the middle, was surrounded on all sides.  He couldn't fly like this.  Dropping down below the others, Osirith shot forward as rapidly as he could.  He'd rejoin them in a bit, once he'd regained some ground.

--

[Kil]

After much rapid stumbling, Embyr reached her weyr with reality narrowed down to tunnel-vision, her periphery dissolving into the scene before her gold. As she staggered to the couch and leaned against it for stability, the steady rhythm of her heart thudding hard within her chest, an eager, exhilarated grin spread suddenly across the goldrider’s face – this time wasn’t last time, and sweet feckamadoodle did she feel alive, so vitally enmeshed in the bond, in her Xyxith, that it was all but ecstasy. Brilliant, absurd, eccentric ecstasy.

As Xyxith slurped hungrily at the throat of her third herdbeast, her burnished hide seemed all but liquid, the light flowing like water to highlight every primed cord of muscle. The corpse thoroughly drained, the small queen lifted her blood-slick muzzle and swung her head around, surveying the remaining herdbeasts… it happened suddenly, the blood settling warm in her gut as a flood of clarity lit the world in blazing colors, and she initiated the next phase. Her words were soft compared to her previous statements – ((The culmination of death must be life for life to be sustained…)) – but the powerful leap that had her suddenly rocketing skywards was accompanied by a shout: ((WHOSE PURPOSE WILL AUGMENT TOMORROW?))

And as neatly Xyxith found her thermal and sped higher and higher, farther and farther below Embyr’s vision dissolved into nothing but the sky. Time to fly.

--------------

Ragnaroth sat at the edge of the pen, wordless and entirely disinterested in the cowering beasts that stamped their hooves and moaned their anxiety. He didn't need to blood, nor did he need to cajole this Eastern Queen. He'd win her by sheer force. Ragnaroth left himself no other option, and as his eyes dropped to a dark maroon, his teeth bared in a half-snarl. Another flight to be won, another duty to be done. 

When she leapt, he was after her a heartbeat later. As he surged forward, he found himself blocked by males who had been closer to Xyxith to begin with or else quicker to catch the thermal. ((Clear the way for Ragnaroth!)) He bellowed, and threw a hard shoulder at the closest chaser.

(OOC: Can happen off-camera or on if someone wants to jump on it. Can also be no big deal, or omg Big Deal/fighttastic)

Kil  

[Arielle]

((OOC: wait, Ragnaroth is going to force himself on her? OMG fight in the offing!))

[Cheshire Pandacat]

(OOC: Well technically, that's what Volth did too, when he caught her last time. ;D If female dragons aren't careful, crafty males will grab them before they choose their mates~)

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[lavalamp.electric]

(OOC: Not at this exact moment, haha. Right now he's trying (sorta) to get into a fight with another chaser)

[Betsy]

The young bronze had been debating taking down a second herdbeast when his golden prey decided she had had enough. Polloth was off like an arrow after Xyxith when she rocketed into the sky, his wings sure and strong and carrying him after her through the air. Le'car could only bear down and hold on to his senses, following his dragon through the air, digging his fingers into the fabric of his pants. His pulse was pounding in his ears and he was one with his bronze as Polloth replied to Xyxith's challenge with a roar, the roar of a young king coming for his due.

~~~~~

With a bugling trumpet of glee and excitement, Kaminath launched himself after Xyxith.

((I'd augment your tomorrow any time, beautiful!)) the brown called out to her cheerfully. ((I shoot for the moon and break through the stars, kicking reason to the curb to go beyond the impossible! The thunderous Wingthird who's twice as hot as an erupting volcano, who do you think I am? THE MIGHTY KAMINATH!)) With that exuberant speech delivered, he high-tailed it after the rising queen.

~~~~~

Up she went, and so he followed. Mid-pack for a start, but that was alright. Umbeleth quickly navigated towards the outside of the pack, to one side. Wings straining on the wind, the brown wanted an outside upper corner of the box. The higher in the figurative box, the better chance he had for a diving catch. And if she happened to break for his corner, it'd be that much easier to angle in. The other corner worried him, but it was an acceptable risk, and fueled by desire he flew onwards. Down below, T'ral found himself fully enveloped in the sky and the chase and found himself moving like his brown. Outside of the huddle for now. There would be time later to make a move for the prize. 

----

Sohruth took a more direct route. Barreling upwards after the queen, he roared into the center of the pack, eyes focused on the golden streak ahead and above of him. Body language told a lot about what a flyer would do, and ancients help any competitor who got in the way. Snarling, he shot past a smaller brown who attempted to cut him off, and cut above a bronze. She had to fly a good while longer, but when she was ready it would be him and the front of the pack, ready to grab her from the skies. The bronze was set on winning this. Couldn't not win this one.

~~~~~

((That would be mine, if you please,)) Osirith replied genially, taking off from the rim with a sudden lunge, tossing the herdbeast he'd been bloodying casually to the ground.  Seeing another dragon besides him, a small brown of a rather dull, ordinary color, Osirith called, ((Sorry little brown, but this one's mine.))

With a sudden burst of speed, he broke ahead towards the front, lust pulsing through him.  Osirith had forgotten how much he loved the chase, feeling the full power of his wings pulsing through him as he shot through the sky after a tantalizing glimpse of gold.  His wings ached pleasantly with the strain as he struggled to keep up his speed.  He was a bronze, a scion of the North.  This was what he was made for.

Scanning the sky, Osirith tried to predict which way Xyxith would dart next, without losing his position in the pack.  He was near the front, just one row of chasers ahead of him.  So close, so desperately close...He could do this.  They were just Eastern dragons, lacked his discipline, his training...

((Feck!)) Osirith thought as he suddenly jolted back to reality as a brown brushed past him rushing ahead.  He'd fallen back to the middle, was surrounded on all sides.  He couldn't fly like this.  Dropping down below the others, Osirith shot forward as rapidly as he could.  He'd rejoin them in a bit, once he'd regained some ground.

~~~~~

Ragnaroth sat at the edge of the pen, wordless and entirely disinterested in the cowering beasts that stamped their hooves and moaned their anxiety. He didn't need to blood, nor did he need to cajole this Eastern Queen. He'd win her by sheer force. Ragnaroth left himself no other option, and as his eyes dropped to a dark maroon, his teeth bared in a half-snarl. Another flight to be won, another duty to be done. 

When she leapt, he was after her a heartbeat later. As he surged forward, he found himself blocked by males who had been closer to Xyxith to begin with or else quicker to catch the thermal. ((Clear the way for Ragnaroth!)) He bellowed, and threw a hard shoulder at the closest chaser.

~~~~~

As the ground plummeted away far below, Xyxith’s instinct-driven intellect shifted into a higher gear – the mundane topography of the earth below dissolved into radiant vectors of possible directions she could veer to take. Fluid, reactive, molten – her clarity of purpose blazed like the sun within her mind, driving her ever upwards toward the actual sun itself, wingsails swollen with a newly-caught thermal… a thick puff of cloud passed near on the left, and she swerved into the cottony cover at such a jagged angle that it was unclear if even she’d expected it. Her tailtip had just barely vanished into the white before she erupted again into view, rocketing exactly sunwards with a surge of speed that belied her runty wings. Higher and higher… her drive was boiling over into mindspeech, the rapid words coming distracted and intense. ((The full execution of one’s potential is necessary to excel. The stage is set, auditions are now underway. Everyone will have a role. The script is still being written.))



OOC:  So so so sorry for the delay!!!!

[Arielle]

Polloth caught Xyxith exiting the cloud before he'd entered it and cut his wings sharply to angle upwards, his feet and belly skimming the cloud without his entire body disappearing into it as he continued following the golden queen. ((Tell me which role to read for and I will do my utmost to perform beyond satisfaction,)) he replied to her, familiar with the concept of a play from some of the books his rider had read to him since their Impression of each other. His blood was singing and the young bronze couldn't be happier than he was at that moment, Chasing a queen like a shooting star.

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<As the ground plummeted away far below, Xyxith’s instinct-driven intellect shifted into a higher gear – the mundane topography of the earth below dissolved into radiant vectors of possible directions she could veer to take. Fluid, reactive, molten – her clarity of purpose blazed like the sun within her mind, driving her ever upwards toward the actual sun itself, wingsails swollen with a newly-caught thermal… a thick puff of cloud passed near on the left, and she swerved into the cottony cover at such a jagged angle that it was unclear if even she’d expected it. Her tailtip had just barely vanished into the white before she erupted again into view, rocketing exactly sunwards with a surge of speed that belied her runty wings. Higher and higher… her drive was boiling over into mindspeech, the rapid words coming distracted and intense. ((The full execution of one’s potential is necessary to excel. The stage is set, auditions are now underway. Everyone will have a role. The script is still being written.))>>

Kaminath surged after Xyxith, following her path with power in his wings but staying in a mostly straight line, only changing altitudes and catching thermals as she did. Because who needed to maneuver when you could JUST KEEP CHARGING FORWARD BOO YAH

((Who do you think I am?)) the brown demanded gleefully. ((I'm the epitome of manly draconitude, the roaring rambunctious rawhide, the ALMIGHTY KAMINATH! I don't follow any script! I blaze my own trail, kicking reason to the curb to go beyond the impossible! That's the way I roll!! Besides,)) Kaminath went on with cheerfully genuine missing-the-point, ((Who'd want to waste time *writing* when we've got *you* right in front of us? Shake that tail, baby, yeah!))


--Cheshire w/ Kaminath

[Allison Herzig]

As the ground plummeted away far below, Xyxith’s instinct-driven intellect shifted into a higher gear – the mundane topography of the earth below dissolved into radiant vectors of possible directions she could veer to take. Fluid, reactive, molten – her clarity of purpose blazed like the sun within her mind, driving her ever upwards toward the actual sun itself, wingsails swollen with a newly-caught thermal… a thick puff of cloud passed near on the left, and she swerved into the cottony cover at such a jagged angle that it was unclear if even she’d expected it. Her tailtip had just barely vanished into the white before she erupted again into view, rocketing exactly sunwards with a surge of speed that belied her runty wings. Higher and higher… her drive was boiling over into mindspeech, the rapid words coming distracted and intense. ((The full execution of one’s potential is necessary to excel. The stage is set, auditions are now underway. Everyone will have a role. The script is still being written.))

Osirith made it all the way to the other side of the queen, flying below away from the bulk of the pack of suitors, before realizing she had gone even higher, leaving him far below, on his own.  Shooting up in another burst of speed, Osirith squinted his eyes against the wind, keeping his gaze on his desired prize.  She was an eloquent one, this Xyxith, even in the midst of flightlust.  A bit full of metaphors for his taste, but, well, one had to indulge queens, particularly witty, pretty queens.  Osirith couldn't see where Xyxith was precisely, his view blocked by the cloud she'd passed through, but did his best to compensate, hoping to emerge right behind her, at the front...if he'd timed it right...if she hadn't made an unexpected move...if she hadn't shot forward again.  He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed the chase.  His wings ached, his lungs burned and he felt alive, fully alive.  He kept silent, rather than indulging her.  He was still out of sight, for no more than a moment, and to speak would be too lose his advantage, but to himself, he thought, The only role I wish today is clutch-father, little gold.  Save the others for the hatchlings.

OOC: Feel free to have him hit another male, if anyone wishes.  He's not paying much attention to where he's flying.

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