Gold Aleith's Flight - Telgar Weyr.

[blueaid]

RL Date: 9/1/2007
IC Date: 4/31/13

** Wyaeth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

You fly downwards towards the bowl.

Wyaeth lands along with the other Reaches bronzes, Nikoth and Zunaeth, though with his own heavy lack of grace, pretty much just thumping from the air onto the ground hard enough to set his rider's teeth on edge. N'thei is quick to dismount afterward, a dubious look finding its way across unfamiliar terrain; "Get the feeling we're gate-crashing something?"

X'ndar having just arrived back from errands for the weyr, lands in a bowl fast filling with foreign dragons. Well at least foreign to the brown pair. Blue-green eyes narrow but shortly its manners that hold out as the riders arriving are offered greeting "Telgar's duties to-------all the weyrs of Pern?" amusement curls his mouth up enough to crease lines down the sides of it.

Z'lo is shivering as he makes his way across the bowl from where he's left his bronze Deluffath. "S..... Sorry Deluffath. I'll be back out soon for you...... just gotta..... deliver this package....." The young bronzerider chatters out. His teeth are almost rattling. "I'm going to stretch out in the sun and fry when I get back to Ista."

Nikoth bursts from between, just after another High Reaches bronze does. They do the standard circle and land to the ground. A'son gives a look of disgust when he turns his eyes up the sky, taking in full stock of the weather. When he dismounts he comments to N'thei, "Yeah. Awful lot of folks here. By the way, I think this is a terrible place for us to get in any practice. Flames are likely to just be... extinguished." His tone dry as he pulls out his usual knit hat from it's been stuffed into his pocket. The man pulls out over his head, protecting himself somewhat from the weather.

Storming. Just great. V'delin dangles from a strap along Imirath's stocky haunch, trying to reach the pack buffeted about by the rain. "Well, if it'd quit with the lightning already, I could better see what I'm doing," he grumbles, having a quick look about to see who might be seeing him flail, quirking a brow for the business of the bowl. Another attempt secures the pack, and he works at untying it.

Aleith hunkers down on the edge of her ledge, her usual lithe grace momentarily obscured by the queen's obvious bad mood. Sparks of red flicker in her blue-whirled eyes as the gold dragon glares at the storm. Her rain-drenched hide glows eerily in the flashes of distant lightening, the luminescence seeming to last through the moments between the electric light.

As soon as Zunaeth blinks from /between/ into the rain over Telgar Weyr, the old bronze's attention jerks groundward, the gathering below catching his interest and he glides downward to land with his two weyrlings, while I'daur sets his mouth into a frown as he starts to unbuckle himself, muttering a curse. "Faranth. Watchrider said--" A shake of his head, and he slides down himself from his dragon's neck. "That's a bad thing?" is his dry reply to A'son's words.

Gr'din remains under the overhang to the caverns, warily watching the unfamiliar dragons congregate. He offers loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain, "Telgar's duties - watch the lightning there - oh, hey X'ndar! Congratulations! I hear you've got babysitting for the next group of weyrlings." One of the caverns girls appears under the overhang with dry towels and the like. As Aleith hunkers down, Sarieth's head turns that direction, squinting through the rain. Apparently he's not at all put off by the storm, not when there's something shiny to watch.

It's a brave card for N'thei to play; "Maybe you'll avoid roasting yourself this time then." He has to add a baleful look toward the clouds afterward, while Wyaeth seems right at home amid lightning crashes and what-not, already busy taking stock of the sizes of a considerable portion of Pern's bronze dragons.

Z'lo shivers, but his hearing is sharp enough as he passes to catch Gr'din's greetings, just in case they're meant for him he answers. "Th..... thanks...Istas..... to yours...." He chatters. "I have a..... a package.... for the headwoman..... soon's I'm...... done...... I could..... use some..... klah....."

R'layn blinks his eyes as yet more rain runs into them, and it's fairly obvious why the bronze's wings are open and tilted down, the tips resting on the ground - the rain's running down and off them. He's soaked but it just adds to his already wet, watery kind of look. Very nice. Only a few moments after Aleith hunkers down on her ledge does R'layn appear from the lower caverns, not venturing out into the weather for the moment, just staring at his dragon's form when it's illuminated by the lightning flashes.

Talurith blinks his eyes as yet more rain runs into them, and it's fairly obvious why the bronze's wings are open and tilted down, the tips resting on the ground - the rain's running down and off them. He's soaked but it just adds to his already wet, watery kind of look. Very nice. Only a few moments after Aleith hunkers down on her ledge does R'layn appear from the lower caverns, not venturing out into the weather for the moment, just staring at his dragon's form when it's illuminated by the lightning flashes.

A'son holds his hand out, letting the heavy rain hit it "Yeah, if you wanted us to flame stuff, sir?" He replies, eyes drifting around the bowl. N'thei's words cause an instant glare to be sent N'thei's way. "Someone ought to keep their mouth /shut/ about things like that." Without waiting for a response he turns from the other weyrling and sends his attention one more to checking the crowds, and checking his dragon.

"Or anybody standing around him," I'daur snaps back, more irritation behind the words than his usual wry amusement as he looks to N'thei. Zunaeth seems impervious to the rain himself, as much as his rider is. "Shut up, you two," he adds a moment later, when A'son gets in on the sniping--apparently, while he's allowed to do it, they aren't. "Wasn't supposed to be /raining/. Wasn't supposed to get caught up in this, either," a nod toward the gathered males. "You oughta get Nikoth and Wyaeth home, if you still can."

V'delin at last manages to free his delivery, though he's by now drenched over his heavy jacket, water droplets complicating his task. He gives the pack-ties a kick, loses his balance, and dangles again before sliding to the ground, right into a puddle. "Imirath, why didn't you take a step to the side, save me the bathing?" His words fall on deaf ears; the siren's luminescence flashes and burns the image onto lusty whirling dragon eyes, and his attention is riveted on the young queen's ledge.

X'ndar hunches deeper into his flight jacket as the rain starts to trickle its way down the back of his neck. Gr'din's congratulations are met with a wide grin "Aye, it be so. Though I'm hoping less of the baby side o' things?" Valketh's eyes fix on the young queen illuminated by the flashes of lightening, just his tail giving hint to his interest as the other males are ignored for the most part. The banter between what appears to be 'Reaches weyrlingmaster and weyrlings is overheard in snatches and draws a gruff chuckle with words going back to Gr'din "Gonna be old afore me time I think."

M'kin makes his way across the bowl... sure he didn't have a message, or any reason to be there other then the fact that he wanted to be for some odd reason, but there he was, just in time to look up and see the flashing of lightening, and the gold.

Gr'din nods politely to Z'lo. "Just inside. Grab a towel there, Istan," after a quick check of the other man's knot. "If you can't find the headwoman, Brijana's usually just around here. But you may want to clear out in a hurry. Leave the package. Unless you fancy a longer stay." The big man's eyes are on Rei, though he nods to X'ndar. "Looks like it won't be too long to wait, either." Icy blue eyes flick to where Aleith burns away the rain with a heat clearly felt by his bronze. "Anyone seen Wyn around?"

Z'lo looks up and whirls as suddenly Deluffath rises from his slumped position, head turning to watch the young queen. He shakes his head at the older riders and talk of backing out while they still can. "My Deluffath never wins a gold flight. He's tried three times already, and he's only caught a green about two. I'm pretty much gueranteed a loss, but I'll humor him." He sighs to the other riders. "Good luck to all of you though." He tells Gr'din. "Looks like I'm stuck in the hurricane awhile longer. I don't know how you Telgarians /stand/ this kind of weather."

Kerinath perks in this excited way that young dragons can have. The stout little brown dragon probaly didn't have a chance amongst all the bronzes and their stamina, but that didn't stop him from looking up at the queen adoringly

Deluffath growls as he stands, stretches, and yawns. His flexible, dainty little arms all leg and no muscle. He's on the small side for a bronze, but his stance is one of intense interest and so much energy in the way he holds himself that he could easily be a stretched rubber band.

Tegara slides from her dragon's neck, her shoulder having become a waters slide in the rain. "Good ol' Telgar weather," she mutters. "Now -- where's Breena -- I could use a little advice from her." The reason for this request is obvious from the AWLM knot that now adorns her shoulder. Then she spies the gold, gleaming in that special way that she is quite familiar with. "You have an ulterior motive girl? Wanna watch one of the big girls fly?"

Aleith suddenly sits back on her haunches, the red in her eyes blending with the blue until the facets gleam violet. She regards the gathering browns and bronzes imperiously, her gaze stabbing each before she looks back to the storm and snorts with obvious contempt. Finally, she spreads her golden pinions and leaps from the ledge, gliding northwards towards the feeding grounds. She trumpets her triumph, the cry echoed by that of a girl. Olwyn pounds out into the rain from the direction of the hot springs, a towel wrapped around her and a jacket hanging on her by the hood only as the goldrider hastily tries to reach her dragon, but too late. "Aleith! Now?" she gasps out the obvious.

N'thei gives the begged question voice while an eager smile comes to light on his very damp face. "Or what, A'son?" There needs no comparison in size to account for his mirth as he makes a good-tempered pseudo-challenge to the other weyrling, all mirth, though his smile is short-lived when he tunes back to I'daur, eyebrows pulled curiously upwards, hitched even higher when a towel-clad girl comes traipsing onto the scene. "See, now this is more like what I was always told to expect at a Weyr. How soon is too soon to request a transfer, sir?"

Valketh 's lazy observation of Aleith snaps into taught lines as the young queen suddenly launches herself upward and on to the feeding grounds. Anything X'ndar may have been about to say is cut short with muttered "Would appear this knot'll be weighing heavy sooner then I expected." his eyes tracking to the young goldrider that comes flying through the rain from the direction of the springs. Tegara's words of finding Breena are met with a hike of brow from the former Southerner "Look me up when this is over. I might be able to help. X'ndar, that lugs rider." the twitchy brown with the scarred flank pointed out.

Aleith lumbers north.
Aleith has left.

The male dragons follow her to the feeding grounds.

R'layn's mouth drops open as his dragon's motives for coming here become, well, pretty sharding obvious. He barely has time to yell the dragon's name before Talurith has sprung into action, all that twitchy, contained energy suddenly released in a powerful jump and sweep of his wings. Off he goes in pursuit of Aleith! R'layn, still gaping, half steps, half stumbles out into the rain, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I /knew/ it as well, that ruddy...!" He spins on his heel at the arrival of the flustered gold rider, and he closes his eyes so that rain streams from his hair over his eyelids.

Kerinath was eager, and didn't take much encouragement to bound after the queen, in a half run, half glide, keeping low to the ground to adviod the bigger dragons. M'kin on the other hand groans softly.. "Ralla is going to kil me..."

V'delin splashes his way toward the Telgari riders, stomping his boots to try to get some of the wet out, to no avail. He shelters the bundle with his arm and one flap of his jacket, the other up at his temple to brush the raindrops from his eyes. "Fort's duties" mumbled as he approaches, this coinciding with Imirath's restless rumble as Aleith leaps. "While I as hoping to stay and warm up," he commiserates with the Istan messenger, shifting the package. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind--but that sight sure brightens up the afternoon."

A'son sends another clearly irritated look the way of the other man. "Or it doesn't matter how big you are." Is the somewhat bland reply before he snaps his mouth shut and goes to put his hand out onto Nikoth's snout. "If I still can? Why?" He asks to I'daur, tone sounding somewhat perplexed. It's then that the bronze shakes his head, pulling away from him as his attention fixes onto the gold. Nikoth's eyes go blue to violet in a matter of seconds. "Oh..." And then Nikoth is gone, into the sky and to the feeding grounds, apparently.

Wyaeth lumbers north.
Wyaeth has left.

Wyaeth> You spring into the air for a quick flight over the fence and into the feeding grounds, where you settle again. >

I'daur himself eyes Olwyn as she runs past, brows raised much as N'thei's are. "We'll talk to the Weyrleaders when we get back," is his answer to the weyrling's question, distracted at best as Zunaeth leaves him as well. "Y'catch on quick," the weyrlingmaster adds to A'son, tensely. "Don't figure you can drag 'em away now, though."

Wyaeth> Sareith is quick off the mark, practically bouncing into the feeding grounds after Aleith, tail lashing in eager appreciation. Behind him Grae says, with considerable understatment, "Oh. There she is." Ice eyes shade a trifle paler as Rei's emotions start to take control and he makes his first kill, wasting no time. He doesn't posture or bellow. Instead the buck is tilted towards Aleith, a silent tribute, before he bends to suck greedily at the carcass.

Wyaeth> Valketh has talons already reaching for the fat young calf he'd been eyeing ever since Aleith's glowing hide had come to his notice. Landing square on its back, its neck is wrenched around and snapped, maw dropping immediately to its throat as wings mantle over his kill. The other dragons ignored, just the young queen warily eyed for any movements skyward.

Wyaeth> Zunaeth takes a moment to crouch himself, studying Aleith before, laboriously, he gets back airborne to glide the short distance to the feeding peds himself, and effectively crush a herdbeast in landing, one big paw pinning it while his mouth goes to blooding. His wings stay spread, effectively declaring his domain at the same time he tries to avoid aggravating the old injury to his left one--at least not more than what's coming will already.

N'thei rubs his hand across the top of his head thoughtfully while watching Wyaeth first swagger, then quick-glide along with all the other boys, and he laughs ruefully at I'daur's answer. "Sir, I think this is going to put a bigger damper on the firestone training than the thunderstorm did." Brilliant lad, N'thei is.

Wyaeth> Kerinath doesn't imediately hit the food, no, he lays on his belly, watching the queen with what might be considered the dragon version of the puppy dog eyes... it almost says that he's not good enough for her, but would love her forever if she just gave him attention, even if it was to kick him, then, with his tail swishing aggitatedly, he uses it to knock over a tender young herd beast as a gift for her before pouncing an older one to drain dry.

Wyaeth> Weyrs may be different but herdbeasts are all the same. Talurith glides above the grounds, hissing, and reaches for one of the panicking creatures, impaling them with his lonr talons. Suddenly eerily silent, the Istan bronze flicks his wings back, lands, and latches onto the screaming bovine's neck to drink. His eyes are a brilliant red, shot through with purple like two amazing gemstones. They glow brightly as the male fixes them on Aleith.

Wyaeth> Wyaeth hitches up and heads over, somehow accomplishing the feat of making it look like it's just a stroll even in haste. His landing on the food side of the fence is still graceless, but it affords him the chance to scare the bejeezus out of an already panicked buck. Gunshot-quick, he snaps it up and guzzles down, broody eyes flicking around the competition.

Wyaeth> Nikoth flys over and lands, ceremoniously spreading his large wings to show off before catching and killing a young buck. The bronze opens his great maw to the neck and begins to feed, somewhat improperly at first. He stops abruptly, growling into the air and head swinging to stare back momentarily at the bowl. The young dragon then throws his jaws open and goes down once more and sucks the animal dry.

Wyaeth> Aleith circles the feeding grounds in a glide, panicking the already frightened herdbeasts even more, seeming to delight in the aura and aroma of fear rising from them. Finally, she drops like a stone on a wherry, shrieking triumph as she crushes it beneath her. She gracefully steps back off it and arches her long neck to take the dead beast inside it. As she starts to bite down, however, she stops, shaking her head as if trying to rid it of some annoying insect. She drops it, then goes for it again, getting so far as to rip a chunk from it this time before dropping it again.

"Was bound ta happen I reckon." X'ndar exhales in a resigned tone, when Valketh hits that first herdbeast, displaying his clear intent on chasing the young queen. Olwyn gains a brief mark of his attention, then hands get shoved into his pockets. An air of ease settling about the large frame as the other riders seem to draw longer study from the Telgari weyrlingmaster, their various reactions amusing him for some or other reason.

Olwyn blushes faintly and holds tighter to her towel as she notices the large number of people around, but her attention is quickly diverted by the events on the feeding grounds. She stomps her foot in the mud impatiently. "No, Aleith! Drop it! Blood only! I said blood!"

Wyaeth> Imirath springs, leaving V'delin behind with a dousing of water across his back, his lunge carrying him a good way across the bowl, the slight and sinuous queen kept within his hunter's view. The meal to come is disregarded as nothing other than show, and as such, he seizes on the moment to grasp a herdbeast by the neck and to fling it at a squat bronze from Igen, bellowing triumph as it strikes.

M'kin makes his way over to the other riders, the Istan brown rider making no attempt to hide his amusement at the queen's bad timing to get a good look at her rider, despite his protests that some girl was going to kill him.

"Yeah, I'daur. Any chance N'thei and I could get that flight lesson /now/?" Are A'son's words to the Weyrlingmaster. "Because it looks like we're going to get it the old fashioned hands on way /first/." His eyes are following the path of Nikoth as the dragon flies and then disappears. A brief expression of concern and worry flickers over the man's face as his eyes go blank. "No." He mutters, likely only loud enough for those right nearby to hear. Only now when his attention returns from Nikoth does he fully notice Olwyn. His eyebrows lift at her jacket and towel, then he glances a the two men he's with.

Wyaeth> Dragons to the left of them, dragons to the right of them. The herdbeasts are understandably in a panic, and Zunaeth takes advantage of the turmoil the other males are causing to snag with one set of claws a frightened beast that comes too close to him without ever having to leave the ground again. Only once he's dragged it over to him does he release the first, working quickly through them and not wasting time trying to get every drop of blood out--a good thirty turns of practice have made him quite efficient at this. The same procedure works for a third beast, and then he's pausing, slowing to eye Aleith calculatingly, no more fooling about with blood.

R'layn has got over his initial surprise and slight anger, especially with Olwyn nearby. The Istan pats at his wet hair, grumbles a little, and then glances around. "Who else is thinkin' that we need to get out of this weather?" He asks out loud, looking around, blinking away the rainwater.

Wyaeth> Deluffath roars, true, he's a little thing for a bronze, but he's working on it! The little bronze grabs another herdbeast and whirls it around like a child with a kite, squeezing until the neck breaks. He drops it to the ground in front of him with a thud and rakes his talons across its flank. Once disembowled, he drinks hungrily.

Wyaeth> Sareith hisses at an unfamiliar brown as it crowds his wingroom. Then the large bronze takes advantage of the chaos the rain ad the others are causing to snag another beast as it runs past, bawling in terror. A thunderclap punctuates Aleith's resistance, and Rei turns his attention back to the source of his desire, ready to encourage and support his queen, whatever her desires may be. Her rider? Yeah, sure, let her yell. His soul attention is fixed on Aleith, the buck sucked dry as an afterthought.

Wyaeth> Valketh sends a threatening rumble to a younger brown that lands so boldly near him, tail lashing from side to side in his agitation. A powerful leap, buckles another herdbeast under his weight as with a deft flick of talons it's turned over and the soft underbelly exposed to sharp ripping teeth. Entrails slither their way down his gullet as he makes short work of this, his second kill. Distracted just briefly, purple tainted eyes rake appreciatively over the golden form in the killing grounds.

"Faranth," mutters I'daur. He agrees, "Ain't never going to learn to flame at this rate. Well. Least we probably won't win." Which is apparently some comfort to him, as he looks over the two younger bronzeriders with him. "Yeah. Here's the basics. They blood, they fly, somebody gets lucky and the rest get drunk and lucky. Oughta be right up you two's alley," is his sarcastic reply to the request.

Z'lo grinds his jaw. "Queenflights give me a headache, no, flights in general do." He shakes his head from where he's standing next to Gr'din. "Faranth, but Deluffath's determined. I've only seen him swing a herdbeast to kill it once, when we were Weyrlings and the master took us onto the feeding grounds for the first time."

N'thei, amusedly, "I've always preferred the learn-by-doing method myself anyway." So saying, he clearly stops listening to I'daur's words of wisdom at that point, taken up with surveying Olwyn in a downright lascivious way, though his words are utterly benign; "Miss, you might want to..." He suggests with a gesture rather than words the pulling up of the towel, pantomiming the holding closed of a towel at the front of his own chest.

Wyaeth> Talurith doesn't so much as bat an eyelid at Aleith's unusual tactic with the wherry. Nor does he do the big macho thing that most of the other males are doing. The large bronze is sating his desire for blood for the time being, and keeping a careful eye on the young gold. With the bovine drained, he lumbers without grace to swat at a wherry, drawing it in so that when he dips his head to blood his neck arches, showing off the glittering colour of his throat and ridges.

V'delin looks up, regarding the goldrider with even more interest as it seems she's the one battling with the dragon in the feeding grounds. The comments of the weyrlings from High Reaches nearby about the timeliness of flight lessons brings a smirk, and an expression of earnestness is shared with Z'lo. "Ways to handle that, the headache. Telgar brew's the right thing for it, if you can hold your liquor."

A'son's complaint of receiving his flights lessons firsthand draws a rumbling chuckle from X'ndar, the 'Reaches weyrlingmaster offered an almost sympathetic look. Z'lo's comment alters that chuckle into a strained laugh "Ista, you just got to let him be. The headache occurs when you lose and the wine becomes company for the night." in agreement with V'delin. Yup, flights are obviously not a point of distress for this brownrider.

Wyaeth> Aleith, for a few moments, ignores her suitors as she fights with her rider. The queen shakes her head again, reaching for wherry again, but after another hesitation, she complies, going for the neck and drinking deeply. The posturing of the males gets another contemptuous look and snort as she snags a herdbeast galloping past. This time, she goes straight for the throat, gulping down the hot blood greedily.

Gr'din glares at N'thei and moves away from the overhang and out into the pouring rain. A crash of thunder nearby doesn't phase him. Instead he works his way over towards Olwyn, pulling off his jacket with one hand. Looming over her, his movements are surprisingly gentle as he reaches out to try to grab her dangling sleeves to offer them to her, mumuring gruffly, "Don't give 'em any more reason to stare, Wyn." With the other hand, he offers out his own jacket to tie around her waist. Large as it is, it should cover her mostly to her ankles and then some. His expression is concerned, the human rider warring with Sareith's growing excitement and lust.

Wyaeth> Wyaeth hunkers back toward the fence when Aleith makes her belle-of-the-ball entrance, the rumble in his belly a hard read, maybe amused or hungry or threatening. By now, gunmetal talons have disembowelled two more herdbeasts, and buckshot splatters of blood sprinkle his chest and shoulders. He seems, for all the mayhem, to be having a fine ol' time of it, just lining 'em up and knocking 'em back one after another.

Wyaeth> Imirath suckles at the neck of a large beast, his talons having raked a tidy gash across its lifeline. After he's drunk deeply, he slits it clean open, exposing the innards, and drags it toward the conflicted queen Aleith, tempting her with the delicious scents of the fresh, inviting meal. >

R'layn mumbles under his breath when nobody replies. His gaze alights on Olwyn as Gr'din approaches her, and for a moment his face flashes with jealousy; a hunger that is his dragon's and not his own. It's gone by the time he clears his throat, shivering in his sopping clothes. "We need to get her inside somewhere," he says, louder this time, with pointed looks to the other male riders. "She'll freeze out here in, er, just that."

Wyaeth> Nikoth discards the first beast, moving rapidly to the next. It's caught quickly and blood drained with some level of efficiency. Aleith's entrance is rewarded with another one his wing flaring, loud bugeling, look at me set of antics. Ignored or not, he'll be moving onto the next beast, his lust fueling his desire to blood once more.

Wyaeth> Deluffath looks up from his third herdbeast, tongue smacking the edges of his maw to get the last of the blood. He roars in appreciation of the drink, the company, and his good luck to have a shot with a lovely lady. His eyes glitter amathyst like gemstones just unleashed from a box of treasure.

Wyaeth> There's a dangerous sounding growl as some of the younger bronzes try to swat him around, and he digs his talons into the ground to hold him steady, Kerinath was not going to be moved from his place of being able to eye the beautiful lady. >

Olwyn, most of her attention taken up by Aleith, automatically holds out her arms and lets Gr'ding make her a bit more presentable. She relaxes just a bit as the queen finally complies and a bit of sense comes back into her eyes. "Thanks, Grae," she murmurs and dreamily heads for and then up the stairs leading to the queens' weyrs.

Wyaeth> Rain dilutes the blood and gore splattered grounds, turning trampled areas to mud quickly. Sareith tilts his head up, letting the rain wash the stains from his maw after this third kill, dispatched and drunk while Aleith took her second. He snarls softly, hopping away from the pack and perching on an outcropping of rock, amethyst eyes never leaving Aleith. The splashing of the rain washes the mud from his as well, as though his bath were a tribute too to his clutchmate, tail twitching eagerly, wings half spread in anticipation.

Wyaeth> Two herdbeasts down, but Talurith is still thirsty. With a hiss - the first noise he's made in a little while - he gives a little jump that lands him on a second bovine, this one fat and ungainly. Eyes more maroon than purple now, he drains the body of the creature swiftly, before lifting his head and opening his wings, neck arched again and his gaze steadfastedly on Aleith. Let the lady make the first move.

Wyaeth> Zunaeth, sated, watches Aleith now, not the other males and not the herdbeasts. He has a relaxed posture, but he's too still, almost motionless as he saves up energy and studies the queen, her telling little movements, in a last-minute cramming session to prepare for what's soon to come.

A'son rubs his hand along his jaw. "Yeah, well. I guess we can handle that alright, I'daur. Though if it's going to be so easy, why bother ever having a lesson on it?" Is his distracted response to the older man. When Olwyn begins to disappear, it seems as if he automatically begins to follow after her, sporting a blank expression for now.

Wyaeth> Valketh isn't nearly as showy in his feeding. Despatching the second 'beast, the third is efficiently nailed to the ground with a squish of paw, talons spearing it into immobility. Aleith's look of contempt is met with one of intent from the old southern brown. The younger dragons are starting to annoy him now, this evidenced in the continual rumbling coming from his chest.

Wyaeth> Aleith glares at Imirath and turns away from the pre-slain beast, pouncing instead on one of her own. She drinks deeply, letting some of the viscous fluid escape from her jaws and paint her hide briefly before the rain washes it away. The herdbeast drained, she suddenly opens her wings and leaps into the air again, this time heading straight up into the storm.

N'thei smiles at Gr'din's glare, the kind of stupidly confident smile that only a weyrling who's never known what it means to lose a flight could summon up on such an occasion. Or maybe it's the smile of a big guy who's never known much in the way of fear. Suffice it to say, he smiles, and he goes on smiling when Gr'din starts wrapping jackets around the eye-candy. Distracted; "Couldn't you say that about a fair few lessons, A'son?"

"'Cause it sounds easy," replies I'daur, brushing water from his face as he glances around once at Olwyn, keeping track of her distantly. "And it damn well isn't. Let's move." He's one of the first to turn, limping after Olwyn when she sets the destination.

R'layn's lips thin as he looks away from the other riders, nodding at M'kin's agreement. Olwyn's exit causes a brief flare of alarm to darken his face, but that clears and the man strides after the Telgari rider, placing his feet carefully on the wet steps when he reaches them.

X'ndar's jaws tighten as the young goldrider heads off, however Gr'din's actions in helping her cover up is met with a nod of approval for all that he himself had been trying very hard -not- to pay her oddly clad form too much attention. The rankling coming from N'thei swings the blonde-streaked head in his direction, an expressive brow creasing lines into his forehead as it lifts "Does this before bronzeling?" Without bothering to wait for an answer, long strides carry him in the direction that Olwyn had taken.

Z'lo heads after Olwyn, shivering. "I'll warm up a little there, then when I crash and burn I can get both warm and drunk in the living caverns." He reassures himself numbly. His eyes are vacent, the normal glitter dull.

Gr'din follows along after his jacket - uh, after Wyn - though his eyes are on the retreating goldrider's backside. With a little shake of his head to clear it, almost mimicing Aleith's earlier movement in the feeding grounds, he catches N'thei's smirk. Rolling his eyes a bit at the weyrling, he says to X'ndar as he falls in with the man, "Hopefully we won't get stuck with /that/ one for a while."

Wyaeth> Sareith leaps a heartbeat after Aleith, unafraid of the storm, the bronze's hubris carrying him through the pouring rain and flashes of disorienting light. He quickly finds a thermal to carrying him up with the least amount of energy spent, casting after Aleith's glowing form hiding in that curtain of rain.

Wyaeth> Talurith has been waiting for this moment ever since he came to Telgar earlier in the day, and he is not about to let Aleith get away that easily. There's a scant second of delay between her leap and the Istan bronze's great jump, Talurith opening his mouth to bugle as his wings sweep down, pushing through the wet air. He is at one with his emotions and with the storm, water streaming down his sleek form as he arrows up after her.

Wyaeth> Valketh launches himself into the air with a sudden roar of warning to the younger dragons around him as Aleith takes flight. Eyes whirling in purple swirls, zone in on that shining tail, veins pumping with adrenaline for the chase, camouflaged body throbbing with the energy taken from his kills. Barreling past a few of the pack, the brown veers off to one side and seems to be heading off in the wrong direction until his cunning is displayed in the position he now takes up

Wyaeth> Wyaeth gets caught in the middle of guzzling. The way he swings his head and hunches his wings is a swipe short of wiping his mouth and throwing aside his herdbeast. The trigger-happy bronze is late off the mark! With water sheeting off of his dust-hued self, he barrels up after Aleith, shouldering his way toward the quicker dragons.

Wyaeth> And that's what Zunaeth's been waiting for; as soon as he sees the tell-tale signs of an impending take-off he's getting airborne himself--it's a struggle and the few seconds he saves by his study of the gold are likely the only things keeping him from ending up right at the very back. As is, he still wobbles of course as that stiff left wing betrays him, but as stubbornly as his rider he gets the motion under control and starts building up his altitude in pursuit: lacking in speed, but determinedly inexorable. At least for now.

Wyaeth> Imirath leaves the gutted beast behind, barreling over another with a turn of his blunt shoulder and snapping its neck with a twist of his jaw. His indulgence makes him miss her ascent into the storm, and his leap skyward is detained further as the rain obscures his vision, though he manages to toss his discarded meal into the path of another chaser, aiming to deter him. At last, he heavily takes wing.

Wyaeth> Kerinath takes his time getting up in the air, still giving the queen his pleading violet eyed gaze, keeping his flight below hers, crooning at her as he does. Why stress himself out when he could just let her pick on him

Wyaeth> Nikoth drops his half-drained buck before he launches himself up into the air. More extremely loud and probably annoying vocalizations are made on his part as he wings his way into the sky. Bronze wings are flung up and catch the air, getting him airborn with some ease. Any male dragon directly near him will recieve a thunderous and nasty growl on his part, violet eyes lived as he flies in pursuit of the gold.

V'delin nods asset to Z'lo's words. "Ale, ale, and more ale. Not as good as the --" his attention slips to where the queenrider has pulled the attention of all maleriders, and he falls silent, tipping his head quickly before starting after her along with the rest of the fray.

Wyaeth> Once the glowing queen is in the air, her temper vanishes. She soars through the updrafts, spiraling high into the air, trilling her joy of both the flight and the chase before abruptly turning and diving through the pack of males, flirtatiously letting her tail flick across a few of them, including Kerinath, before she adjusts her sails to let her momentum carry her back into the clouds.

M'kin isn't drooling anymore, but he still stares a bit, trying to catch glimpses of soft fleshy bits, following after Ril with another mutter about how his girl was going to kill him for being late.

Olwyn comes to her senses long enough at the entrance to her weyr to look with a bit of alarm at the large number of people, mostly males, following her. She gulps a bit, gives Gr'din an entreating glance, then heads inside.

Z'lo trots beside V'delin. "And no water. Wanna come back to Ista with me when we're done? The beaches are incredible, and besides, we might find ourselves a girl there. And definately more to drink. And this brownrider rider I know, S'ji, makes some wicked dishes with rivergrains." He's shivering, his eyes vacant and empty.

Olwyn heads up a set of stairs to Aleith's ledge.
Olwyn has left.

The bronze and brownriders follow Olwyn to her weyr.

You head up a set of stairs to Aleith's ledge.

Wyaeth> Wyaeth is near enough to Nikoth to receive one of those growls, and he answers it with a chomp of his empty jaws toward his clutchmate. With his talons clicking like spurs behind him, the rangy, slouchy bronze finds his pace early, far too fast for an untried dragon but with just the right level of arrogance to be distinctly his own. Aleith has a heckuva head start on the cowboy bronze.

Gr'din's expression flickers, a stricken look crossing his face at Wyn's mute appeal. Jaw grinds together as the big man, now soaked completely through without his jacket, finds a place where he won't drip on the furniture. Barely audible he urges, "Shard it, Rei - do it this time!"

N'thei's answer is to X'ndar is but a chuckled repetition of the word, "Bronzeling." With the inside of his sleeve, he wipes the water off his chin but fails to wipe the grin off his face in the process. Like a true gentleman, though a smirking one, he stands aside to let most of the others precede him in Olwyn's wake, his eyes turned to the goings on overhead. By and by, he ducks in and subjects Olwyn's furnishings with no less curiosity than he subjected her towel-clad self. To no one in particular, he observes, "I expected fancier digs, for some reason."

Wyaeth> Sareith revels in the bouncing updrafts, hopping from one to the next to the next with abandon. As Aleith made her teasing turn, a growl of jealousy escaped. But none of the pack comes up with her as the prize, and the Telgari bronze relaxes marginally. As she heads back into the cloud cover, he skims along the bottom of the front, allowing each updraft to pop him into the grey to cast around for her, and then back down to make certain he misses no sudden emergance, no change in direction.

Wyaeth> Zunaeth is definitely not the fastest or most agile dragon up there--not even the wiliest, likely. But he's still picked up more than a few tricks, and though he's well in the middle-back of the pack, he flies on stubbornly, his injured wing not yet giving him much trouble with the lust and blood fueling him. Following further back, in fact, lets him have at least some advantage in shortcutting those first turns, and hanging back enough that he has more time to prepare and turn when Aleith barrels back through their midst.

Wyaeth> Talurith revels in the joy of flying in the rain as much as in the thrill of the chase. For a moment he almost seems to have forgotten that he's actually after Aleith, the first lids of his eyes closing as he enjoys the feel of the water on his hide. It's when she dives back straight at the pack that he's jolted back to the task at hand, and with a bugle twists as agiley as he can to follow. When she rises again he's rising, too, his body curving and wings pulled up to thrust him up towards the grey skies with steady wingbeats.

Wyaeth> Valketh turns on his tail faster then most of his color are able to with a grace that belies his size. Sweeping upward with steady, even strokes of his great wings, he keeps himself just behind the pack - the style and measure of the other males carefully taken in. Aleith's tail kept in his peripherals. An older bronze just ahead of him struggling onward is immediately discarded as any kind of competition.

Wyaeth> Nikoth is a streak of bronze in the sky after Aleith. Wyaeth's chomp is returned with the opening and clamping down of his own, much bigger ones. With an arrogant snort to his clutchmate, he pushes himself onward making to put distance between himself and the other males but close the distance to the gold. He's using those large wings of his and his young, youthful energy to power him along through the pouring rain that's wracking the skies, oblivious to it and the clouds. His only objective and desire, Aleith. When she turns so abruptly, it nearly throws the unexperienced bronze for a loop. But soon he's readjusting and making up for it for all he's worth.

V'delin mutely follows the steps of the mostly male crowd into the queen's weyr, managing enough wits about himself to take stock of its luxuries. "So did I," he agrees with N'thei. "But...Nice furs," he manages, only after recalling Z'lo's offer. "Mm, there's a beach bar there, right? I haven't been in turns. And bet it doesn't downpour like this, either."

R'layn drips water all over the place when he enters the weyr - but then, who isn't? "Oh, /bum/," the rider mutters, hanging back near the entrance and looking guilty. His sandy-coloured hair is dark with water; his clothes are soaked and his jacket is dripping wet on the outside. "Typical ruddy weather for a flight." The usually placid rider is irritated, sighing before he steps further in the weyr, near Z'lo and M'kin.

Wyaeth> Imirath is impeded but not daunted by the sheeting rain, and he veers his sinuous neck side to side to sight the glowing target, whirling eyes eerily lit by the flashes of light that break the storm-darkness. There! Among the clouds! Her ethereal radiance is unmistakable, and he shifts his barrelled chest, lashes his whipcord tail about, and makes for her, not so much hesitating as threatening with returning chomps and showings of teeth at his nearest competition.

A'son arrives in the woman's weyr, eyes sweeping over the furnishings, the other men and finally Olwyn herself. A look of pity and an apologetic expression flashes across his face before he leans against an empty space of wall. His soaking wet hat is peeled off of his head. He goes to squeeze it but apparently decides not to drench the goldrider's floor. The damp thing is then jammed into one of his pockets and he quickly ruffles his short hair, flicking water off of it.

I'daur, shuffling into the weyr, rakes a hand over his face to take the worst of the water from it, hands absently rubbed across his shirt even though it's as soaked at the rest of him. The weyr itself gets only a brief look from him, as he takes in the gist of it and no more, finding Olwyn again in the mix. For most of the chasers he has no attention at all; of them, only N'thei and A'son get looks from the weyrlingmaster: that habit dies hard.

Z'lo sighs in relief as he leans back against the wall and sits down. "Warmth." He says with a yawn. His eyes finally blank completely in rapport with his lifemate. "Go on Deluffath. I'm settled now. Don't hold back on my account. You know what to do."

Wyaeth> Aleith remains hidden in the mist for a few minutes, then suddenly bursts out of the cloud cover in a spiral dive, her timing perfect as the move is accompanied by a fantastic blast of blue-violet lightning and the heavy growl of thunder shakes the heavens. She pulls out of the dive and rises again, staying out of the clouds this time as she flies straight ahead, allowing her suitors all to get a proper long look at her.

M'kin finds himself a wall perch. "There's this cute little kitchen girl here.. did I mention she's cute? She could have anyone she wants.. and if I am late she might just do that..."

One by one, the riders filter into the young goldrider's weyr, X'ndar somewhere in that line of them. Not unfamiliar with the way of flights, the brownrider sets himself up against a section of wall. Idle note is made of those still arriving with a curiously upward curl to his mouth that simply lends him a roguish charm. Wide shoulders shift against the rock in an attempt to get comfortable in his lean, maybe it's the unfamiliar surroundings or more likely the chase heating up in the skies above.

Wyaeth> Deluffath is startled by the sudden dive, but dives are his specialty. He folds his wings and drops like a stone. A loud bugle of joy issues from his throat. Oh lovely golden maiden, you are grace itself in the sky! He croons to her, after all, a lady demands respect.

Wyaeth> Valketh uses that long tail of his to whip out at a young bronze that comes too close into his airspace a snap of teeth enforcing the warning << Back off junior! >> The jostling for position behind and around the glowing queen drives the older brown down just enough, to shoot up through a gap left in the bunch and claim some open airspace for himself, from where her beauty and grace can be more easily admired.

Wyaeth> Wyaeth, duly smitten, cranes his neck up to peer at Aleith as she chases out of the clouds and into view, soundless except for a gruff snort of approval at her appearance, not very poetic to say the least. Like that for long, though, and he'll give himself a crick in his neck, considering how far below the queen he managed to position himself, likely a poor tactic. He paces Taleith horizontally fairly well now, but he's lengths below her and rising very, very gradually.

Wyaeth> That's one movement Zunaeth has no attention of following, not when he's worked so hard to get as high as he already has. Instead, while many of the other males pursue her directly, he mimics her lateral motions from well above her, keeping track of where Aleith goes but waiting for her to come back up to him, as he seems certain she will, eventually, do. In the meantime, he glides where possible, making every use of the wind currents he can, though their unfamiliarity makes that task a little more difficult for him than it is at his own home.

Wyaeth> Kerinath croons pitifully at the teasing queen, keeping himself below the cloud line, not rising up to meet her yet, just singing her praises of how he was not worthy of her, but please,please wont she notice him... he liked being tortured by her in this way, and it was just encourage him to keep up with the bigger dragons in akward bursts of speed that made him seem gawky.

V'delin is a scrawny, tall man with oily blonde hair and sharp and glinting blue eyes. Time has smoothed much of the pock-marked complexion of this young twentysomething, the rest masquerading beneath a caterpillar of a moustache crawling across his upper lip and a scrabble of stubble along his chin, the latter suggesting he could always use a shave. His hair falls messily straight to a blunt line at his shoulders. Bedecked in a standard-issue set of leathers kept more carefully oiled and plied than most, his identity as a rider is apparent. One shoulder dips forward a little more into a slouch and at times moves less nimbly than the other, though that may be hard to tell if the weather's cold enough that he's wearing the extra layer provided by a dark blue thigh-length coat, large buttons closing up the front. The wear at his restless fingertips hints at tannery or leatherworking by recent trade. Any pride in his clothing likely rests in his leather boots: while uneven of dyelot, they're well-tanned, and the stitches that join the sole are neat and tidy.

Wyaeth> Ah HAH! There she is! Sareith was in the clouds for her dive, but quickly angles back on her left and above as she takes the long road. He does not voice his compliment, instead making his wing muscles do the talking, as he tries to draw closer to her. Water sheets around him and the speed of his passage drives the rain back so that the inner eyelids drop down to protect himself.

Wyaeth> Nikoth trumpets loudly when Aleith bursts forth into view again. As if he himself were the one to have called her forth and to have had that fantastic streak of lightening decorate the sky. Her glowing golden form is sought after. Not as experienced as some of the other bronzes and browns that are in flight, he still pushes forward. No aerial tricks are displayed today, just his speed, his strength and his overwhelming desire to tangle tails with that beautiful creature gracing the sky above the weyr. Arrowing himself upward, he tries to raise himself into airspace above her, his first at attempt at tactics thus far.

Wyaeth> Talurith is not unused to such tricks. The weather does, however, make the gold's dive unexpected, and his late reaction to the move means that he drops back towards the middle-back of the group of chasers. This seems to anger the bronze, for he pulls out of his dive in a sudden movement and pumps his wings with increased vigour to make up the distance. Growling as darkly as the thunder a scant few moments before, Talurith puts his all into it. He rises, into the mist, only the glow of his eyes visible as he speeds along after Aleith.

N'thei peers toward the inner weyr at the mention of furs, height exaggerated when he leans forward onto his toes for a few seconds to see over the few heads between him and the bed. To V'delin, he makes an iffy gesture with his palm rotating back and forth, and then takes a cue for the veterans. If everyone else is going to hold up the walls, he may as well help, leans casually with his arms crossed and a mercurial expression on his face, sometimes calm self-assurance and sometimes startled bemusement.

Inside the weyr, Olwyn paces sightlessly in a circular track, all of her attention now taken up by the chase in the sky. "Which one, which one. Oh, there's a handsome fellow, but he's so slow. That one is cute, but he is so very young. Which of you loves me most?" she mutters, the barrier between her queen's thoughts and her own taken down to the fullest extent.

Wyaeth> Imirath is steadily beating his wings, the greenish tint of forge residue along his undersides wet with rain that is flung outward with each powerful downstroke. Ergo, when the queen dives, precious moments are lost in admiration and in fending off the nearest brown with a head-butt to the side; then the dischordant bronze is fighting mass and momentum to reverse course, lashing his tail to better straighten out, seeking both the prize and the glory of eliminating the others in the race and trying to keep sight of her through the clouds and streaks of rain.

R'layn finds hismelf a nice section of wall to lean against, his eyes darkened as he watches Olwyn pacing around. Despite his youth, for a moment the rider looks old, the skin under his eyes appearing grey for a moment. Perhaps it's only a trick of the light, helped by the water on his face. Wiping his face on the (wet) sleeve of his jacket, Ril looks normal again, if shiny due to his wet features.

A'son face just remains in that apologetic-looking state. He unbuttons his riding jacket, brushing at it and looking generally uncomfortable. The weyrling watches her pace around the room before sighing, taking a glance at the others and lifting his chin up. His eyes are averted to the ceiling, attention now focused on the flight he can only see through the eye of Nikoth. As he keeps watch on the stone above him, his eyes become more and more distant, he himself associating more with the bronze in the sky than the man in the weyr.

Gr'din's eyes, once closed, flick open at Olwyn's familiar voice. Surprisingly, the Telgari bronzer's blue eyes have shaded to near silver. His expression holds a mixture of shock and joy, agony and lust, written clear for any with eyes to see. Usually as reserved and untouchable as his bronze, the naked emotion and need on his face is like a physical blow. He makes a small noise deep in his throat. Who loves her the most? He does, and it's a revelation that clearly he had no clue of, until this critical moment.

M'kin can't help but groan softly at his dragon's eagerness, and his lateness, and his fustration, staring at the queen rider like he was a predator ready to pounce on his pray.

X'ndar's eyes snap open and teeth bare at a bronzerider, his dragon's warning in the air to the other seemingly transmitting down here too. Blue-green eyes fix on Olwyn with a lingering concentration from under half-lidded eyes. Fists clenching at his sides, the former southerner draws in slow calming breaths, then leans himself back against the wall. The others in the weyr largely ignored other then a passing smirk here and there for those not coping with it all very well.

V'delin doesn't bother with finding a spot along the wall. Instead, he shrugs free of his heavy jacket, sprinkling rain's dampness in a mistaken dewy coating on the floor of the weyr. He's just about sat in place when he notices the puddle, and he stands back up again, shouldering up to his best posture in case Olwyn's pacing reflections take her past him. "We do, pretty lady," he softly calls, his throat's dryness making it a near-croak.

I'daur, as laconic as ever, has nothing to say to Olwyn or to the others, his mind reaching out to his own dragon above them. The Reachian weyrlingmaster is braced himself up by the wall, it the main thing supporting him as he keeps weight off his own injured leg. Distractedly, he rotates his left one, rubbing the shoulder as Zunaeth's growing tiredness with fighting with his own failings reflects in his rider.

N'thei cups a hand around his mouth and shoots toward A'son and I'daur, "You think we should answer her?" There's no other her in the room, but he still dips his head toward Olwyn. He even opens his mouth a second time to formulate a reply to her paced questions, but something-- a look toward Gr'din, in all his distraught glory maybe-- forestalls his words.

Wyaeth> Aleith flaps strongly, regaining altitude once more, but at a cost. There's a faltering edge to her movements as weariness begins to slow down her great bulk, lithe for a queen, but still larger than almost all of her adoring followers. She circles overhead, letting out another trilling call, giving her suitors another long look at her. Then, once more, she dives, striving to scatter the pack again. This time, however, the strength to hold her wings taut falters a bit, slowing her, and giving one lucky male the chance to entwine himself with her.

Wyaeth> Deluffath plunges through the rain, trumpeting mightily. His body is stretched out behind him like a rubber kite as he reaches out long, scrawny copper legs towards Aleith with a bugle fit to wake a Weyr at dawn!

Wyaeth> Valketh has no need of any shows of prowess, the steady thrumming coming from deep in his chest for the young queen exhibits is keen interest in capturing the golden beauty and making her his. A thermal caught, brings him out high above the pack of chasers and allows him full view of the shining form that twists and weaves below in the intricate dance she leads her chasers. Watching, waiting and keeping track, the brown is all attentive patience for just the right moment that will bring him swooping down to offer her his own strength, as hers flags.

Wyaeth> Kerinath lets out a groaning croon as he is either going to win her now or lose her forever... mememe.. please, please pick me... he moves to catch her dive, despite the fact that being lower then her, he might catch a claw.. though maybe he might like that, he wanted so much to catch her from this fall, pushing himself, water streaming from his hide.

Wyaeth> Talurith stays in the mist, an obscure shape among the grey. He matches Aleith move for move as she flies straight, and it's only when she circles that the sneaky bronze emerges from his cover, dropping slowly so as not to expend what remains of his energy. It's when she dives once more that he drops straight for her - not that he's wasting energy on that. He spots her strength falter and /that/ is when the Istan makes his move, his glistening neck reaching to entwine her, his muddy paws outstretched to help him try to catch the gold.

Wyaeth> Wyaeth would crow if he had the strength left for it! His lack of altitude serves him when Aleith dives, and he grunts with a combination of effort and satisfaction. One or two males dive away from the gold's tactic, scattering like tumbleweeds in a stiff wind, but Wyaeth shadows her ever closer as she draws near to his plane. There's no finesse, no cleverness to his tactics. He's a straight-shooter'n all he can aim for is that Aleith continues diving, right into his waiting arms. Er, wings.

Wyaeth> Nikoth has been spending most of his energy gaining altitude up until this point. When Aleith makes a dive, he calls out in a loud, brassy, trumpet of exhilaration. The moment is here! The young bronze takes a dive, gaining speed as he swoops down towards the gold. All his hopes, his dreams ride on this very moment as he pushes himself through clouds, rain and anything else that might get in his way. Closing in on her, wings are pulled open and he dares now in this second to get within a catching distance of her.

Wyaeth> To Aleith's mental words, Zunaeth has no reply, no protestations of love and beauty, no great things he would do for the Telgari queen; he lets his actions tell that story for him, as he continues to shadow her with the rest of the host. He's lagging already as his wing acts up, but so far, though it's plainly exhausting he's doing his level best not to let it affect his speed or his efforts to capture the fleeing gold. Again, she dives toward the pack, and he's waiting this time, delighted surprise in the whirl of purpled eyes as she comes back to where he's struggling so hard, and, in a last-ditch effort he'll probably feel tomorrow, he turns sharply to align himself with her as he strives to tangle his battered old body with her gleaming one.

Wyaeth> Sareith spots the hesitation and angles in on Aleith's left, coming down from above, trying to catch her as her wings tremble. Tail and limbs reach for her, talons sheathed as he attempts to pull her away from those others. A scream of raw need is nearly drowned in a crack of lightning and crash of thunder. Urgency, both his rider's and his own, is etched in every line as he arrows in, his strength in offering to his clutchmate, his queen, and please, his Aleith.

Wyaeth> Imirath has become distracted by the throng of chasers, and they're thick enough around him that he lashes at the pack with a snarling bellow and tears free only by dropping beneath them around the same time that Aleith dives and scatters the group, coming up almost, perhaps close enough? There, to his left, the side of his weaker scarred wing, she appears, diaphanous haze lit by flashes of lightning through the misty haze--he must try, instinct demands it, and his tail reaches outward in invitation even as he whirls, but can he turn on it sharply enough to ensnare the rapturous creamy rose gold?

Gr'din echoes Rei's cry in the skies above, muscles taut and trembling with restraint, eyes fixed on Wyn. Water flings in little drips around him as he stays rooted, that naked emoton still on his face.

R'layn trembles violently when his dragon dives, stepping forward so that his foot is in a puddle of water that he's dripped on the floor. His blank eyes are fixed on Olwyn; his face showing his need for her.

"I don't think she was talking to..." And there A'son trails off in his dry respone to N'thei, mouthing clamping shut. The man jerks his head down, eyes intent on Olwyn as he tries to push himself up even closer to the wall than he already was previously. His eyes are practically burning with a similar desire to his dragons as he watches the woman intently.

M'kin groans the groan of a well teased teenage boy,he has no hope that his dragon will win but he can't help but stare are her, taking a few steps like he was going to pounce on her eagerly if they did win.

Z'lo growls, body taught and trembling. His voice comes out in rattled grunts and growls as he clenches and unclenches his fist, looking fit to burst with the same joy as his petite little bronze with so much life. "Delu.... delu......" He growls softly.

X'ndar inhales sharply, feeling the rush of air with his dragon in his flight. Lips curl into a sardonic grin for the tried and tested tactic the brown uses. Ever darkening eyes that become more dark blue then green, rake over the young goldrider, gone is the restrained brownrider, instead in his place is the human incarnation of dragon, his every fiber reaching out to Olwyn through the strained lines of his body.

V'delin's eyes close and his hand drifts toward his left arm, fingers clenched to the whites of his knuckles with the effort of bolstering it, as though it'd do the same for his lifemate above. Fingers release his thick coat, leaving it to slip to the floor. He sneaks a look at Olwyn, blue eyes blazing with desire, and is unable to stop his intent staring once it begins.

Wyaeth> Aleith's golden hide glimmers with the rain and her heat, shining brilliantly in the faint light as she tries once more to tease her suitors. She slips to one side, avoiding Kerinath's grasp. Her new pathway has her headed straight for Nikoth, but just before she reaches the weyrling bronze, the loudest crack of thunder yet rattles the sky, the lightning accompanying it narrowly missing a lagging brown. She starts, her wings cup and send her up, straight into Sareith's grasp. She stiffens for a moment in surprise, then yields herself to the bronze, wrapping her tail around his and yielding to him with as much eagerness as he chased her.

Wyaeth> Sareith bugles, as much for triumph as to warn the others off, as he tightens his hold around his Aleith, supporting her as the heavens split open, his joy a match for her own.

Wyaeth> Valketh bugles out his dismay when Sareith finds himself twined with Aleith. With a howl of loss, the southern brown spirals dispiritedly down through the driving rain to the bowl below to nurse his wounded pride. Frustration and exhaustion ripples through the camouflaged hide and echoes in his intermittent chuffs.

Gr'din crosses the weyr with a wordless cry, restraint now gone in eagerness to get to Olwyn.

A growl of irritation spills out from X'ndar's throat as a last glance is thrown Olwyn's way. Pushing away from the wall, the goldrider is once again afforded a heated look and then he turns on his heel and is gone back out to the bowl to tend to his dragon. "Overzealous big lug." is heard muttering out from the brownrider in his wake.

Z'lo jerks out of his reverie. "Deluffath!!" He cries out, back arching at his dragon's sharp dip and twist before he heads for home. "Yeah buddy. I'm coming. I'll meet you out there." He runs like the hunting dogs are on his heals for the bowl.

The losers begin to leave, post haste.

Inside the queen's weyr, Olwyn stops in her pacing, her body tense as Aleith dives again. As the golden dragon is caught, she turns, her loose wet hair whipping about as she flings herself at Gr'din.

Wyaeth> Zunaeth, off-balanced, struggles to correct himself, wing nearly giving entirely as he finally catches himself with a grunt, and glides heavily toward, wing held stiffly as he lands to pick up I'daur, limping from the weyr.

Wyaeth> Imirath manages the turn, but not fast enough, and his tail's eagerness made him too slow in the circle. With a distainful cry, he turns and flies downward, leaving the newly-paired behind.

N'thei has a weird look on his face, like a child who suddenly turns to a woman in a crowd of people and discovers that woman is not his mother. "Huh." He hauls himself off the wall he'd been bracing and follows the throngs out of the weyr, with one last glance over his shoulder to be absolutely /sure/ he's reading this situation right. There's Olwyn flinging herself at Gr'din, so yep. He is. Out he goes.

You head down a set of stairs to the the bowl.

Wyaeth> Zunaeth and Nikoth sense that Wyaeth just wants to make one thing perfectly clear: He blames Nikoth.

Dragon> Zunaeth and Wyaeth sense that Nikoth makes one remark before shutting his mind off like a metal door slamming shut. << Shut your trap, you idiot. >>

Dragon> Nikoth and Wyaeth sense that Zunaeth just pictures I'daur's calendar, with the days to graduation ticked off one by one.