[LOG] - B'haal: Chasing the Gold
Title: Chasing the Gold
Summary: Yet again, B'haal's work is interrupted. Yet again, Mephixath decides it's time to chase a gold in flight. It does not go well.
Characters: Al'dru, B'haal, C'vryn, Emeliuth, Eranzath, Mephixath, Neyuni, R'en, Sindrieth, Zuhth
Location: South Bowl, Igen Weyr
Time: N/A
RL Date: 09/08/2014
Neyuni is actually semi industrious where she's at, innocently enough fixing a hole in the fence wall to the feeding grounds. Zuhth is on the rim so much farther above, sleeping lightly. The swish of a golden tail strokes the layers of sandstone as the sun slips towards the opposite rim and shadows begin to creep across the bowl floor. It lights her hide in that tellingish glow, which her rider has quite positively got her back to, completely ignoring as she curses at the ... fence.
He's here on business, really. Or, rather, -was- here on business. No sooner than Mephixath touches down and B'haal dismounts to remove several bags from the beast than the bronze is craning his head up to stare at the slumbering, distant queen. The rider, for his part, spares only a sidelong look for the beast that's poised so motionlessly and soundlessly in the bowl. No words are shared - and the hooded, cloaked figure shifts the bags on his shoulders. His gaze briefly cuts to the cursing goldrider near the fence - but he, for the moment, denies whatever urge there is to approach for the sake of finding somewhere to dump his burden.
C'vryn is not on duty at the moment and as such, doing one of the two things he seems to spend so much time at, either searching for Janja or hiding from her. And as he's tense but moving without much purpose, it could easilly be either at the moment. But after a short, silent conversation with his own bright bronze, his tension eases for the moment. His hazel eyes finally catch site of the glowing gold spotlighted by the setting sun and a new tension enters his body.
R'en has been at Igen for a while, he'd come to meet one of the healers in their infirmary that has experience in something that he doesn't. A satchel is slung over his shoulder as he makes his way back to where Sindrieth waits, the bronze seemingly asleep in a quiet area off to the side of the bowl where his tail only gives the briefest twitch to prove that he's more awake than he appears. R'en pauses as B'haal dismounts giving the man and his own dragon a look over before he follows their gaze towards the goldrider. "Monaco Bay's duties." He offers politely, completely ignoring the fact there's a gold anywhere near by that might be glowing.
Al'dru swings down from Eranzath's neck with a bit of a cocky swagger, giving Erry a hearty pat as he lands on the sandy floor of the bowl. Eranzath is antsy, barely tolerating getting his flying straps off before he his half hopping, half flying toward the feeding grounds now, eyes whirling. "I might have known it would be soon. I just should have known."
Neyuni tosses her tool onto the ground, swearing again. "Well I'll just blow the whole thing up!" seems the solution to fixing a small fence hole is to make a bigger one. On the rim above the queen stirs more and her rider spins to lean her back against the nearest post and wipe at her brow. Or at least half-way, as her motion pauses as she catches the growing occupation of this end of the bowl.
B'haal's burden is finally dispensed with - namely, by handing it off to some poor passing soul in the bowl with stern instructions on what to do with it - and a low-hissed, "Mephixath help you if you fail." The youth flees with the pair of bags, leaving the Iernian visitor free to flip his hood back and work at unfastening the cloak. The strap-clad Mephixath flexes and shifts, just a little, and angles a warning look - laced with luminous red to blur with burgeoning purple - at his rider. For his part, B'haal's look is grim - with naught else to betray his true thoughts. To the riders that have begun to congregate, he offers a customary, "Ierne's duties," and nothing more. What more needs to be said? A glance is given to Neyuni again when she speaks, but the working of his throat yields nary a word. The bulk of his attention weighs on the serpentine-sleek bronze - and -his- eyes are locked on the glowing gold.
Becomeing a little more wary at the arrival of Al'dru, C'vryn gives the older rider a terse nod of greeting. However, rather than approach his fellow Igenite, Ryn steers over closer to where Emeliuth is rousing from his own lazy nap. With tail lashing, the bronze seems to become even more agitated as Zuhth moves. A grin breaks across C'vryn's face as the Weyrwoman shows some explosive tendencies but as he doesn't respond to them, he must not take them seriously. "Neyuni." He greets calmly, all while in the process of removing himself from the direct path between dragons and feeding grounds. Emeliuth, for his part is now fully alert, eyes whirling rapidly and fixed fully on the slowly waking queen.
R'en doesn't spend too much time trying to play nice, instead he makes his way towards where Sindrieth is and starts shoving the things he brought with him into the pouches on the dragon so they can get ready to leave. "Come on, Sindrieth, get up." He attempts at rousing the bronze as he glances towards where C'vryn and Al'dru are. Something's going on - but he's not clued in at all yet considering he doesn't really know any of them. Starting to move towards a sitting position, the bronze lifts his gaze towards the glowing gold as his rider follows it. "Oh, no. No no. We're going to be leaving." He clues in quickly enough to know this is not going to be a good thing.
It is with slightly less than any grace that Eranzath lands in the feeding grounds, but he does manage a kill that he starts to blood, tearing into the throat of a hapless ovine before he bends to drink. His attention split between food for flying and then the object of that soon to be flight. Zuhth is gazed upon, before the bronze is moving, leaving behind his kill as he scatters the herds milling around again. Al takes a moment and continues to back up slowly, until he finds a part of the fence that Neyuni wasn't working on or blowing up, to steady himself. "This, how do the dragons from elsewhere always know to come at this time?"
Zuhth doesn't give her rider a chance to answer C'vryn's greeting. Eyes snap open and she roars long and loud. The sound echoes through the bowl as she flares her wings and looks positively pleased with the effect, letting the final rays of the sun soak into her body before diving from the rim into the feeding grounds below. It's a call that demands attention and makes her rider wince. "Now?" Any chance of those lured here leaving vanish as quickly as water in the desert, and the hunt for its hidden oasis begins inthe scarlet that floods the feeding grounds. Yuni gives Al'dru a look and then has to focus upon the chore at hand, mentalling pulling the glowing gold back from the tasiest of entrails that tempt her.
He knows his place in all of this. B'haal makes the cursory attempt at approaching Mephixath, but the beast hisses and mantles his wings briefly. The straps will remain on, it seems, and the Iernian rider moves to distance himself from the chaos to come - which is to say that he finds himself drawn into the midst of the human drama to unfold. "Make no promise you cannot keep," is the only verbal utterance given to the tensed bronze. Mephixath is not the first to blood - but he makes his move in short order. It's a fluid leap over that finds some poor beast under his claws; a beast that's deftly eviscerated and drained before he considers a second. His eyes are a lurid red-purple, rapidly whirling - and only for -her- and that powerful roar of hers. There is no answering call; no need. His promises are writ large in his posture; made manifest in movement. B'haal's attention lands on Al'dru when he speaks and his reply is a flat, if somewhat grim, "I asked him once." His mouth pulls slightly to one side. "He said that some things were not meant for us to know."
Emeliuth is pulled by Eranzath's shadow passing over into the feeding grounds, unwilling to let another get a jump on him. So it is by luck alone that he makes it to the first kill before Zuhth's own arrival into the fray. His is a silent kill, without the posturing others might take but his focus is perhaps a bit too much on the desert queen and not nearly enough on the business of blooding. A fountain of red sprays over the bronze muzzle at the gold's bellow and with so much of the precious ruby lost to face and ground, he must kill again quickly to replace the lost energy. C'vryn greets this with a groan of frustration. "Figures." He warily approaches closer to the fence where the other riders are gathering in the tense and uncomfortable blooding scrum. "At least Janja was out of the Weyr for the day."
Any hope that R'en had of holding the bronze back is quickly fading as he bolts up and takes off towards the feeding grounds leaving his rider with nothing but the satchel he started with in his hands and an utter look of dismay. If R'en had /any/ idea that there was a glowing gold on the horizon he would not have come to Igen at all, that much is for certain. He grabs his satchel and just sighs as he walks over towards where the others are with resignation. Sindrieth, however, gives no sound as he chooses his own beast to dismantle without the usual intent of cataloguing. His gaze is fixed on Zuhth, offering no gifts nor words to try and lure her with - no, the bronze is deafeningly silent in his ministrations and keeping his attention focused despite the fact he's one of the later to arrive.
Eranzath is blooding his second kill, leaving the caprine dessicated and dry before the darker bronze moves on, leaving it behind as he focuses now simply on the queen as she arrives into the feeding grounds as well. A third kill is made only when a startled wherry moves to close to not be killed, temptation overriding other instincts for a moment. Al leaves his hands out on the fencepost, fingers pulling at the wood before he gives a startled glance to the rider from Ierne and a commiserating glance toward C'vryn. "It is good she decided to leave." Al's quiet after that, contemplative as he watches the dragons before he simply continues to watch.
Neyuni keeps control long enough for Zuhth to satiate the lust for blood, and transform it into a lust for something even more primative. Stained muzzle turns skywards and without thought she is airborn. Body glows warmly against the shadow of the sandstone walls as she rises, cutting westwards towards the irregular wind worn stone of that wall. Its air currents as unpredictable as her current state she manages to find those which aide her in climbing swiftly from the bowl, up past the rim and into the glow of the sunset sky. Returned to the Weyr of her birth she rises above it, calling her claim and tempting those that follow to prove themselves worthy of her and all that spreads below billowing sails. The speck of her rider now far below is mostly along for the rider. Neyuni manages to get a quick look at those gathering but few faces register and she closes her eyes tiling her face skywards and leaning back harder against the fence post.
Mephixath dines on a second unfortunate victim, laying its insides out as a ritual sacrifice - of sorts. A third is slain, but the red river that flows from it is allowed to soak into the ground and the limbs are arranged, just so. Such strange symbolism is likely lost on the others; an anomaly and nothing more. Blood-soaked talons sink into the soil and he tenses, body shifting with serpentine temptation. His hide is alive with sparks of bronze and gold, every movement teasing out the flecks that are scattered along his form. And when she seeks the skies? He follows like so much smoke, a promise on the wing - and on the wind. At the fence, B'haal is but a shadow of himself, cloak draped over his forearm and gaze ostensibly fixed on the creature that holds him in a familiar state of thrall. His expression is stony and distant; his eyes glazed and empty.
Sindrieth is not about to rush after the gold, no, he is instead biding his time and finishing off his prey with his harlequin quartz claws dug into a bloodied neck to assure he has the strength to fully chase after this golden prize. He's nearly as large as the queen herself, and it seems like only a heartbeat or two before he takes to the skies. His wings flare, the dazzling underneath of them glinting in the sun for a moment before he wings to catch up. Unfamiliar wind patterns are definitely not proving to be his companion, as they veer him in a direction that doesn't seem complimentary for keeping up with the pack. R'en on the other hand, looks about as pissed off as a person could be without actually yelling curses. He glares up towards the sky where the dragons have become nearly pinpoints, as if he could will his dragon into losing. "Whose gold is that?" He asks, since he obviously doesn't know.
C'vryn nods just once at Al'dru's comments but like the other rider, he is soon lost in watching the display going on before and above them. With Zuhth rising into the setting sun, Emeluith is quick to follow, dangerously shorting his blooding to keep up with the eradic path of the fleeing gold. Stark determination and hometown knowledge allows the golden bronze to find his own thermals up. Oversized wings cup the updrafts and air currents, pushing him higher and higher in pursuit. His bright hide melds with the colors of the sunset on desert sands until the bronze is liken to a mirage slipping in and out of sight for both those above and below. Yet nearly invisiblely far below, C'vryn's eyes remain locked on where his mate should be if he were more clearly visible. R'en's question is given a gruff. "Neyuni's." And a nod towards where the senior Weyrwoman leans against the fence.
Eranzath is up into the air, perhaps not the first dragon, but do not let it be said that he is the last to follow into the chase. Making his way into the skies after the brilliantly glowing hide of the queen before him he settles into pushing himself upwards and away from the bowl walls of the weyr. A quick change of his wings, tilting on the differing wind currents here as the winds race against the desert as he rises higher into the air. Al'dru moves to hang on to the fence post, his knuckles turning a slight white, as his mental will clashes with Eranzath's before they both give way into struggling for their common goal now and Al'dru closes his eyes to better focus on what is happening above.
Zuhth rises higher above Igen in ever widening circles. The air cools the more she climbs, colors around her fading as night settles in. The glow of her hide starts to dissapear into a sky filling with stars. Neither moon has yet risen, only pale starlight twinkles on the chasers and the land below. The initial lust of the sky's freedom fades and she snakes her head around to look behind. The array of bronzes from golded to shadowed struggle onwards, and one that seems rather ... sparkly... and so she gazes, momentarily mezmerized. Neyuni blinks a few times, clearly sharing the puzzlement of her queen. Some distant braincell makes a note to check with the herders on what kind of "special grass" exactly those herdbeasts have been fed. Hearing her name she looks at the group which seem suddely all strangers and in that moment of lost focus the queen above angles a wing and sends herself into a sharp turn as if to cut across the front of the pack and both show off herself and get a closer look at those who have so far managed to keep up. Perhaps even a bit too close...
Mephixath seizes the sky with strange familiarity; he's been in these skies before, perhaps turns ago, and it shows. A tilt of the wings, a ripple of his body, and he's undulating ever higher to seek a vantage that's far removed from the rapidly building knot of chasers. To Zuhth, he sends his promises - wordless reassurances on a mental sigh of smoke and sparks. There is no sweetness there; only the whisper of psychic silk meant to tantalize. Ah! But it seems there is no need to tempt and cajole; a moment presents itself and the opportunistic serpent of a dragon takes it. He strikes quickly, descending with partially furled wings in an attempt to strike from above and ensnare her while she moves closer to the twisting knot of bronzes - but will he succeed? B'haal knows not - but he's hardly privy to such things. Some things are not for him to know, not yet. The bronzer has no eyes for the goldrider that looks at them; his head is still tipped back, as if he might yet see the distant flight.
Eranzath isn't so far behind that he doesn't attempt to make the most of this attempt when Zuhth appears to have made the first mistake of her flight and he tries to come closer, to edge out those others also trying to reach for the queen. In the hustle and bustle of the jostling crowd he is bumped and that sends him down quite a ways, a struggle that he does not quite make it back up from although he makes a valent attempt to muscle past some of the others that have now moved closer and have blocked his access. Even with this struggle he is not ready to give up just yet.
Sindreith is usually not so adamant about flights, but in this one he heads straight for the centre of where all the bronzes seem so close to the gold yet still so very far. He is large, and uses his size to his advantage as he all but shoves one out of the running and uses it to propel him farther. This gold, this one will be his, and any bronze that gets too close to him will feel the wrath of his blood tipped talons. Bright wings flicker in the starlight, seeking to figure out the thermals and get him the advantage he needs as he defiantly strikes out towards Mephixath in an attempt to keep him from ensnaring the golden prize. Bloody talons reach towards the gold as she gets frustratingly close to him, yet still seemingly so far away. R'en just shudders as he stands there, waiting to see if the defeat he is expecting is what he will feel.
Emeliuth is rapidly running into a lack of camouflage when Zuhth makes her turn. It is now or never for the bronze and so he pushes foward just one last time. As the starlight catches the last bit of filagree on the bronzen wing, Emeluith pulls those wings in sharply, turning and diving in one step. Just as he reaches the closest approach to Zuhth's side, he stretches neck and legs towards her, hoping to snag the queen from the sky before sailing past. Far below, C'vryn gasps, snatching at the air before him. "NO, not yet!" He protests but the dragons are far to far away to hear.
Zuhth realizes that she has cut her fly by far to close as the bronzes seem to so suddenly close in. Wings pull in further in reaction to movement above, but falling only brings her deeper into the surging mass of bronze. A final twist ofher body and she escapes Emeliuth's attempt, and in the next moment gaze finds Eranzath but the other bronze is much to far and another ensnares with surprising speed. The currents work to Sindrieth's favor, and together the pair fall away from the pack and into the starlit skies.
It's with an audible hiss of irritation that Mephixath peels away. Once again, his promises are denied; once again, his efforts at subverting another soul to his side have failed. He banks sharply, his sinuous form twisting away to seek solace in distant sands - somewhere. In that moment, B'haal snaps back into awareness with a guttural sound. Whatever he says sounds suspiciously like 'too old for this business' and he turns away, a hand lifted to rub at his temples. Back to work for him - and, later, the harder work will need to be done.
Summary: Yet again, B'haal's work is interrupted. Yet again, Mephixath decides it's time to chase a gold in flight. It does not go well.
Characters: Al'dru, B'haal, C'vryn, Emeliuth, Eranzath, Mephixath, Neyuni, R'en, Sindrieth, Zuhth
Location: South Bowl, Igen Weyr
Time: N/A
RL Date: 09/08/2014
Neyuni is actually semi industrious where she's at, innocently enough fixing a hole in the fence wall to the feeding grounds. Zuhth is on the rim so much farther above, sleeping lightly. The swish of a golden tail strokes the layers of sandstone as the sun slips towards the opposite rim and shadows begin to creep across the bowl floor. It lights her hide in that tellingish glow, which her rider has quite positively got her back to, completely ignoring as she curses at the ... fence.
He's here on business, really. Or, rather, -was- here on business. No sooner than Mephixath touches down and B'haal dismounts to remove several bags from the beast than the bronze is craning his head up to stare at the slumbering, distant queen. The rider, for his part, spares only a sidelong look for the beast that's poised so motionlessly and soundlessly in the bowl. No words are shared - and the hooded, cloaked figure shifts the bags on his shoulders. His gaze briefly cuts to the cursing goldrider near the fence - but he, for the moment, denies whatever urge there is to approach for the sake of finding somewhere to dump his burden.
C'vryn is not on duty at the moment and as such, doing one of the two things he seems to spend so much time at, either searching for Janja or hiding from her. And as he's tense but moving without much purpose, it could easilly be either at the moment. But after a short, silent conversation with his own bright bronze, his tension eases for the moment. His hazel eyes finally catch site of the glowing gold spotlighted by the setting sun and a new tension enters his body.
R'en has been at Igen for a while, he'd come to meet one of the healers in their infirmary that has experience in something that he doesn't. A satchel is slung over his shoulder as he makes his way back to where Sindrieth waits, the bronze seemingly asleep in a quiet area off to the side of the bowl where his tail only gives the briefest twitch to prove that he's more awake than he appears. R'en pauses as B'haal dismounts giving the man and his own dragon a look over before he follows their gaze towards the goldrider. "Monaco Bay's duties." He offers politely, completely ignoring the fact there's a gold anywhere near by that might be glowing.
Al'dru swings down from Eranzath's neck with a bit of a cocky swagger, giving Erry a hearty pat as he lands on the sandy floor of the bowl. Eranzath is antsy, barely tolerating getting his flying straps off before he his half hopping, half flying toward the feeding grounds now, eyes whirling. "I might have known it would be soon. I just should have known."
Neyuni tosses her tool onto the ground, swearing again. "Well I'll just blow the whole thing up!" seems the solution to fixing a small fence hole is to make a bigger one. On the rim above the queen stirs more and her rider spins to lean her back against the nearest post and wipe at her brow. Or at least half-way, as her motion pauses as she catches the growing occupation of this end of the bowl.
B'haal's burden is finally dispensed with - namely, by handing it off to some poor passing soul in the bowl with stern instructions on what to do with it - and a low-hissed, "Mephixath help you if you fail." The youth flees with the pair of bags, leaving the Iernian visitor free to flip his hood back and work at unfastening the cloak. The strap-clad Mephixath flexes and shifts, just a little, and angles a warning look - laced with luminous red to blur with burgeoning purple - at his rider. For his part, B'haal's look is grim - with naught else to betray his true thoughts. To the riders that have begun to congregate, he offers a customary, "Ierne's duties," and nothing more. What more needs to be said? A glance is given to Neyuni again when she speaks, but the working of his throat yields nary a word. The bulk of his attention weighs on the serpentine-sleek bronze - and -his- eyes are locked on the glowing gold.
Becomeing a little more wary at the arrival of Al'dru, C'vryn gives the older rider a terse nod of greeting. However, rather than approach his fellow Igenite, Ryn steers over closer to where Emeliuth is rousing from his own lazy nap. With tail lashing, the bronze seems to become even more agitated as Zuhth moves. A grin breaks across C'vryn's face as the Weyrwoman shows some explosive tendencies but as he doesn't respond to them, he must not take them seriously. "Neyuni." He greets calmly, all while in the process of removing himself from the direct path between dragons and feeding grounds. Emeliuth, for his part is now fully alert, eyes whirling rapidly and fixed fully on the slowly waking queen.
R'en doesn't spend too much time trying to play nice, instead he makes his way towards where Sindrieth is and starts shoving the things he brought with him into the pouches on the dragon so they can get ready to leave. "Come on, Sindrieth, get up." He attempts at rousing the bronze as he glances towards where C'vryn and Al'dru are. Something's going on - but he's not clued in at all yet considering he doesn't really know any of them. Starting to move towards a sitting position, the bronze lifts his gaze towards the glowing gold as his rider follows it. "Oh, no. No no. We're going to be leaving." He clues in quickly enough to know this is not going to be a good thing.
It is with slightly less than any grace that Eranzath lands in the feeding grounds, but he does manage a kill that he starts to blood, tearing into the throat of a hapless ovine before he bends to drink. His attention split between food for flying and then the object of that soon to be flight. Zuhth is gazed upon, before the bronze is moving, leaving behind his kill as he scatters the herds milling around again. Al takes a moment and continues to back up slowly, until he finds a part of the fence that Neyuni wasn't working on or blowing up, to steady himself. "This, how do the dragons from elsewhere always know to come at this time?"
Zuhth doesn't give her rider a chance to answer C'vryn's greeting. Eyes snap open and she roars long and loud. The sound echoes through the bowl as she flares her wings and looks positively pleased with the effect, letting the final rays of the sun soak into her body before diving from the rim into the feeding grounds below. It's a call that demands attention and makes her rider wince. "Now?" Any chance of those lured here leaving vanish as quickly as water in the desert, and the hunt for its hidden oasis begins inthe scarlet that floods the feeding grounds. Yuni gives Al'dru a look and then has to focus upon the chore at hand, mentalling pulling the glowing gold back from the tasiest of entrails that tempt her.
He knows his place in all of this. B'haal makes the cursory attempt at approaching Mephixath, but the beast hisses and mantles his wings briefly. The straps will remain on, it seems, and the Iernian rider moves to distance himself from the chaos to come - which is to say that he finds himself drawn into the midst of the human drama to unfold. "Make no promise you cannot keep," is the only verbal utterance given to the tensed bronze. Mephixath is not the first to blood - but he makes his move in short order. It's a fluid leap over that finds some poor beast under his claws; a beast that's deftly eviscerated and drained before he considers a second. His eyes are a lurid red-purple, rapidly whirling - and only for -her- and that powerful roar of hers. There is no answering call; no need. His promises are writ large in his posture; made manifest in movement. B'haal's attention lands on Al'dru when he speaks and his reply is a flat, if somewhat grim, "I asked him once." His mouth pulls slightly to one side. "He said that some things were not meant for us to know."
Emeliuth is pulled by Eranzath's shadow passing over into the feeding grounds, unwilling to let another get a jump on him. So it is by luck alone that he makes it to the first kill before Zuhth's own arrival into the fray. His is a silent kill, without the posturing others might take but his focus is perhaps a bit too much on the desert queen and not nearly enough on the business of blooding. A fountain of red sprays over the bronze muzzle at the gold's bellow and with so much of the precious ruby lost to face and ground, he must kill again quickly to replace the lost energy. C'vryn greets this with a groan of frustration. "Figures." He warily approaches closer to the fence where the other riders are gathering in the tense and uncomfortable blooding scrum. "At least Janja was out of the Weyr for the day."
Any hope that R'en had of holding the bronze back is quickly fading as he bolts up and takes off towards the feeding grounds leaving his rider with nothing but the satchel he started with in his hands and an utter look of dismay. If R'en had /any/ idea that there was a glowing gold on the horizon he would not have come to Igen at all, that much is for certain. He grabs his satchel and just sighs as he walks over towards where the others are with resignation. Sindrieth, however, gives no sound as he chooses his own beast to dismantle without the usual intent of cataloguing. His gaze is fixed on Zuhth, offering no gifts nor words to try and lure her with - no, the bronze is deafeningly silent in his ministrations and keeping his attention focused despite the fact he's one of the later to arrive.
Eranzath is blooding his second kill, leaving the caprine dessicated and dry before the darker bronze moves on, leaving it behind as he focuses now simply on the queen as she arrives into the feeding grounds as well. A third kill is made only when a startled wherry moves to close to not be killed, temptation overriding other instincts for a moment. Al leaves his hands out on the fencepost, fingers pulling at the wood before he gives a startled glance to the rider from Ierne and a commiserating glance toward C'vryn. "It is good she decided to leave." Al's quiet after that, contemplative as he watches the dragons before he simply continues to watch.
Neyuni keeps control long enough for Zuhth to satiate the lust for blood, and transform it into a lust for something even more primative. Stained muzzle turns skywards and without thought she is airborn. Body glows warmly against the shadow of the sandstone walls as she rises, cutting westwards towards the irregular wind worn stone of that wall. Its air currents as unpredictable as her current state she manages to find those which aide her in climbing swiftly from the bowl, up past the rim and into the glow of the sunset sky. Returned to the Weyr of her birth she rises above it, calling her claim and tempting those that follow to prove themselves worthy of her and all that spreads below billowing sails. The speck of her rider now far below is mostly along for the rider. Neyuni manages to get a quick look at those gathering but few faces register and she closes her eyes tiling her face skywards and leaning back harder against the fence post.
Mephixath dines on a second unfortunate victim, laying its insides out as a ritual sacrifice - of sorts. A third is slain, but the red river that flows from it is allowed to soak into the ground and the limbs are arranged, just so. Such strange symbolism is likely lost on the others; an anomaly and nothing more. Blood-soaked talons sink into the soil and he tenses, body shifting with serpentine temptation. His hide is alive with sparks of bronze and gold, every movement teasing out the flecks that are scattered along his form. And when she seeks the skies? He follows like so much smoke, a promise on the wing - and on the wind. At the fence, B'haal is but a shadow of himself, cloak draped over his forearm and gaze ostensibly fixed on the creature that holds him in a familiar state of thrall. His expression is stony and distant; his eyes glazed and empty.
Sindrieth is not about to rush after the gold, no, he is instead biding his time and finishing off his prey with his harlequin quartz claws dug into a bloodied neck to assure he has the strength to fully chase after this golden prize. He's nearly as large as the queen herself, and it seems like only a heartbeat or two before he takes to the skies. His wings flare, the dazzling underneath of them glinting in the sun for a moment before he wings to catch up. Unfamiliar wind patterns are definitely not proving to be his companion, as they veer him in a direction that doesn't seem complimentary for keeping up with the pack. R'en on the other hand, looks about as pissed off as a person could be without actually yelling curses. He glares up towards the sky where the dragons have become nearly pinpoints, as if he could will his dragon into losing. "Whose gold is that?" He asks, since he obviously doesn't know.
C'vryn nods just once at Al'dru's comments but like the other rider, he is soon lost in watching the display going on before and above them. With Zuhth rising into the setting sun, Emeluith is quick to follow, dangerously shorting his blooding to keep up with the eradic path of the fleeing gold. Stark determination and hometown knowledge allows the golden bronze to find his own thermals up. Oversized wings cup the updrafts and air currents, pushing him higher and higher in pursuit. His bright hide melds with the colors of the sunset on desert sands until the bronze is liken to a mirage slipping in and out of sight for both those above and below. Yet nearly invisiblely far below, C'vryn's eyes remain locked on where his mate should be if he were more clearly visible. R'en's question is given a gruff. "Neyuni's." And a nod towards where the senior Weyrwoman leans against the fence.
Eranzath is up into the air, perhaps not the first dragon, but do not let it be said that he is the last to follow into the chase. Making his way into the skies after the brilliantly glowing hide of the queen before him he settles into pushing himself upwards and away from the bowl walls of the weyr. A quick change of his wings, tilting on the differing wind currents here as the winds race against the desert as he rises higher into the air. Al'dru moves to hang on to the fence post, his knuckles turning a slight white, as his mental will clashes with Eranzath's before they both give way into struggling for their common goal now and Al'dru closes his eyes to better focus on what is happening above.
Zuhth rises higher above Igen in ever widening circles. The air cools the more she climbs, colors around her fading as night settles in. The glow of her hide starts to dissapear into a sky filling with stars. Neither moon has yet risen, only pale starlight twinkles on the chasers and the land below. The initial lust of the sky's freedom fades and she snakes her head around to look behind. The array of bronzes from golded to shadowed struggle onwards, and one that seems rather ... sparkly... and so she gazes, momentarily mezmerized. Neyuni blinks a few times, clearly sharing the puzzlement of her queen. Some distant braincell makes a note to check with the herders on what kind of "special grass" exactly those herdbeasts have been fed. Hearing her name she looks at the group which seem suddely all strangers and in that moment of lost focus the queen above angles a wing and sends herself into a sharp turn as if to cut across the front of the pack and both show off herself and get a closer look at those who have so far managed to keep up. Perhaps even a bit too close...
Mephixath seizes the sky with strange familiarity; he's been in these skies before, perhaps turns ago, and it shows. A tilt of the wings, a ripple of his body, and he's undulating ever higher to seek a vantage that's far removed from the rapidly building knot of chasers. To Zuhth, he sends his promises - wordless reassurances on a mental sigh of smoke and sparks. There is no sweetness there; only the whisper of psychic silk meant to tantalize. Ah! But it seems there is no need to tempt and cajole; a moment presents itself and the opportunistic serpent of a dragon takes it. He strikes quickly, descending with partially furled wings in an attempt to strike from above and ensnare her while she moves closer to the twisting knot of bronzes - but will he succeed? B'haal knows not - but he's hardly privy to such things. Some things are not for him to know, not yet. The bronzer has no eyes for the goldrider that looks at them; his head is still tipped back, as if he might yet see the distant flight.
Eranzath isn't so far behind that he doesn't attempt to make the most of this attempt when Zuhth appears to have made the first mistake of her flight and he tries to come closer, to edge out those others also trying to reach for the queen. In the hustle and bustle of the jostling crowd he is bumped and that sends him down quite a ways, a struggle that he does not quite make it back up from although he makes a valent attempt to muscle past some of the others that have now moved closer and have blocked his access. Even with this struggle he is not ready to give up just yet.
Sindreith is usually not so adamant about flights, but in this one he heads straight for the centre of where all the bronzes seem so close to the gold yet still so very far. He is large, and uses his size to his advantage as he all but shoves one out of the running and uses it to propel him farther. This gold, this one will be his, and any bronze that gets too close to him will feel the wrath of his blood tipped talons. Bright wings flicker in the starlight, seeking to figure out the thermals and get him the advantage he needs as he defiantly strikes out towards Mephixath in an attempt to keep him from ensnaring the golden prize. Bloody talons reach towards the gold as she gets frustratingly close to him, yet still seemingly so far away. R'en just shudders as he stands there, waiting to see if the defeat he is expecting is what he will feel.
Emeliuth is rapidly running into a lack of camouflage when Zuhth makes her turn. It is now or never for the bronze and so he pushes foward just one last time. As the starlight catches the last bit of filagree on the bronzen wing, Emeluith pulls those wings in sharply, turning and diving in one step. Just as he reaches the closest approach to Zuhth's side, he stretches neck and legs towards her, hoping to snag the queen from the sky before sailing past. Far below, C'vryn gasps, snatching at the air before him. "NO, not yet!" He protests but the dragons are far to far away to hear.
Zuhth realizes that she has cut her fly by far to close as the bronzes seem to so suddenly close in. Wings pull in further in reaction to movement above, but falling only brings her deeper into the surging mass of bronze. A final twist ofher body and she escapes Emeliuth's attempt, and in the next moment gaze finds Eranzath but the other bronze is much to far and another ensnares with surprising speed. The currents work to Sindrieth's favor, and together the pair fall away from the pack and into the starlit skies.
It's with an audible hiss of irritation that Mephixath peels away. Once again, his promises are denied; once again, his efforts at subverting another soul to his side have failed. He banks sharply, his sinuous form twisting away to seek solace in distant sands - somewhere. In that moment, B'haal snaps back into awareness with a guttural sound. Whatever he says sounds suspiciously like 'too old for this business' and he turns away, a hand lifted to rub at his temples. Back to work for him - and, later, the harder work will need to be done.