[Log] Maiden, Pt. 2
Who: A'son, Gr'din, I'daur, M'kin, N'thei, Olwyn, R'layn, V'delin, X'ndar, Z'lo
When: Day 31, Month 4, Turn 13
Where: Sky, Telgar Weyr; Olwyn and Aleith's Weyr, Telgar Weyr
What: Aleith rises in her maiden flight. I'daur is one of those caught up in it.
Notes: Find Pt. 2 here.
Zunaeth> 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.
You head up a set of stairs to Aleith's ledge.
Aleith's Ledge
The weyr is a large one, as all that house a gold dragon must be, but smaller than some for the junior-most queenrider at Telgar. The walls have been smoothed by many hands and the centuries, the expanses broken up by carefully hung tapestries in the faded colors of age. In the public area, a large stone couch has been worn by the weight and movement of countless gold dragons into a comfortable wallow. Opposite is a small table with two chairs and a larger desk covered in writing supplies and stacks of hidework.
Through a short corridor separated from the main room by a woolen curtain is Olwyn's smaller bedchamber. There's a clothespress, a rod hung with dresses and other clothing that should not be folded, and a nightstand with a brush and some ribbons scattered on it. The bed is not huge, but comfortably large enough for two, and covered with a luxurious blanket made of various finely-tanned furs.
The afternoon is dark grey and overcast. It is raining heavily, the water coming down in torrents. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air feels a bit nippy. The ground beneath your feet is wet from the last storm.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> Kerinath lets out a long growl of pleasure as he gets swated... more please... and continues to follow the lady queen in hopes of it happening again, picking up speed in an eager burst of youth,
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."
Zunaeth> Deluffath works as hard as he can, twisting agilly through the sky. His lean, tiny frame makes /him/ hard to swat. His glittering violet eyes burn as he arrows after the golden glow in the sky. His bugle is ecstatic as he twists and turns, not caring that he's actually knocked two browns off of their course and caused them to founder downwards and out in his enthusiasm.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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."
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Dragon> Flight sense that Aleith's burbling thoughts echo to all of her suitors, << Which of you loves me most? >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Liaoth spreads the ocean breezes and skies across the land for her, raising a sail bright and rosy as the sun before the queen Aleith, showing her with the vivid glory of the rising Rukbat over paradise rather than with words.
Dragon> Flight sense that Naurimeth croons softly at her, his mental tone blue and soothing... like the gentle istan tired. << Dear... sweet queen.. you could walk all over me and I would love you all that much more.. I would love you no matter what.. you could do as you wanted.. >> Kerinath responds in his sugar coated words Kerinath responds in his sugar coated words
Dragon> Valketh bespoke Flight with << rumbles in amusement << More then fat wherries and heardbeast lined up from one side of the bowl to the other my queen. >> >>
Dragon> Flight sense that Nikoth sends out his strong, vibrant voice, booming forth, like a pounding drum. << Of course it is -I- who love you the most. See how I push forward for you, despite the driving rains, despite the cold and the clouds. I would follow you all through the skies! Discard these older, tired dragons. I am young and strong and it is all for you, dearest Aleith! >>
Dragon> Imirath bespoke Flight with << I am your subject, your admirer. >> Cajoling is in brilliant emeralds, replete with the starstruck earnestness of the flatterer. << Cradle your effervescence in my embrace, o golden one, and the sun will rise and set for only you. >>
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.
Z'lo simply relaxes, letting his body fall under his bronze's sway. A blank gaze settles on Olwyn. "D.... Delu..... you'll...... I trust you..... go....." He whispers softly.
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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Z'lo shakes his head, voice soft. "Deluffath already did...." He chuckles. "That wasn't your lady speaking, it was your gold lady." He gasps at the queen's dive. "NOW Deluffath!!!" He cries out sharply.
Zunaeth> 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!
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> Deluffath cries piteously as he opens his wings, dropping past the two and beating his way back towards Telgar alone.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> Kerinath cries out pitifully at his lose, and disappears between in a poof of dispair
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.
Zunaeth> 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.
Zunaeth> 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.
M'kin groans softly, quickly heading out to go find that poor kitchen girl that was waiting for him.
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.
V'delin's eyes close once more, and he takes a deep, steadying breath before trying to make his clenched muscles work properly. He remembers his jacket, swiping it before he goes, and treads all the more carefully for the puddles.