Log: Faldaverth's Maiden Flight Part 1

[jekzith]

Logfile from Piper.



Thandril is walking towards his usual fishing spot, a pole over one shoulder, and a canvas bag in his other hand. He isn't paying much attention to who is where and all, but he is looking about to see how many might be actually about.

Perched on the top of a boulder jutting out of the sand surrounding the lake, S'vin sits. He's shed his flight jacket in the summer's warm embrace, one leg propped up so to bring a knee up towards his chest. Resting his chin atop it, the bronzerider smiles simply at the shimmering of the light upon the lake, seeming to simply be enjoying the day.

Piper, on the other hand, does not seem to be enjoying the prettiness of the warm summer's day. She's nearly scowling as she makes her way down to the lakeshore, picking at the neckline of her tunic to fluff her shirt away from her body as if the heat of the day were unbearable. She is, unusually, sans hides or other semblances of work.

Thandril glances over to the weyrwoman, "Are you alright there lass?" He asks, his usual ireverant form of address tempered with a touch of conceanr to the first glance of the Weyrwoman. He thinks about it, and he gives a slight shake of his head as he starts to think of what might be going around.

S'vin blinks once at Thandril, his eyes coming back into focus, and he turns his head to look at whoever the fisher might be speaking to. Perhaps just out of curiosity's sake. He sees Piper, his smile widening just a little more and starts to lift a hand to wave a hello. That is, until he either remembers something mentioned in an earlier conversation, or he sees the current state of the goldrider's mood. Regardless, the boy stiffens and winces, knowing a warpath when he sees it...or perhaps just knowing better when to get out of the possible way.

"I do have a name other than 'lass'," Piper returns tartly to the well-meaning Thandril, dropping down to sit cross-legged upon the beach and shucking her boots. She next turns her attention to shoving the short sleeves of her tunic up onto her shoulders. She spots S'vin's almost-greeting, and if anything, her grimace deepens, "Why is everyone treating me like I might bite them if they say hello or something?"

Thandril grins to Piper, and laughs softly, and ahs as he catches on. "Well, in that case, I shall still say lass, for it is the sort of thing I think fits you." He notes, chuckling softly as he notes the reaction of the other rider, and he continues to be perhaps.. too friendly with the weyrwoman.

S'vin winces again, looking trapped. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn't. "Afternoon Piper." he rumbles in his usual deep mumble, trying to hide behind his unusually unbound hair. The tie for it wrapped around his wrist. He slips from his rock though, perhaps no longer thinking it to be the sanctuary it had been only moments before. He does wince once more though as Thandril called the weyrwoman 'lass' again, bitting down on his bottom lip and worrying it some. His silver eyes dart back to Piper, as if to gage her reaction.

P'ter waves as he gets close. "Hello hello," he says, looking at those gathered. "Some sort of meeting is it? Or just boats in the night - or, ah, whatever it is they say at seacraft."

"Lass, isn't that generally a term we reserve for wee ones?" remarks Piper, her gaze rather cold upon Thandril as she utters the type of pronouncement youths are prone to make, "I'm almost 20." So there. She takes a moment to wriggle her toes in the sand before turning an almost sweet smile on S'vin, "There, was that so awful hard?" she says. "And see, not the littlest nibble from me." As P'ter arrives, whatever follow up comment she was going to make to S'vin is swallowed as the young weyrwoman's attention snaps to the Weyrleader.

Jekzith circles in for a landing, trumpeting brightly as he sets down well up from the feeding pens. Atop the brown's back is a rather harried looking P'draig, who slides off and starts unbuckling straps from about the young dragon. "Small holders ..." he grouses in none-to-happy a tone and pulls off his riding cap, promptly stuffing it into his pocket. Once Jekzith is free of straps, he gives him an affectionate slap. "Go on, go take that swim you were on about," his voice shifting into a less irritated tone. Only then does he look about and shakes off his jacket.

Thandril chuckles and he continues to dive into a what might be considered very dangerous territory, and he smiles. "Not really, why, always been around the folks that though lass was reserved for the pretty young woman, which you say you are." He notes, and he smiles as he once more, notes the reaction of S'vin, making sure that he is out of reach of the weyrwoman.

Using S'vin as a proddy goldrider barometer probably isn't the best of ideas. The young bronzerider returns Piper's almost sweet smile with one of his boyishly cute ones. Of course it's quickly followed by a flushing to his cheeks so red he turns his head away as he feels them suddenly go hot. He opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to Thandril, as he is now currently facing the other young man, but no sound comes out. Again, he looks between the two, his thin pale brows lowering as if confused. Though at the sound of P'ter and P'drag's voices, he quickly gives them the puppy eyes. Someone will rescue him, right?

P'ter is somewhat set aback by Pipers sudden shift of attention, he immediately looks guarded. "What?" he asks, slowly and carefully, as if handling something made by smiths. He nods to both P'draig and S'vin, though is still wary. He nods a greeting to Thandril and points him out to Piper. "I'm not saying it, he is."

Somehow, S'vin's at least partially appeased the rather prickly Piper, or at least that's how it appears as her expression softens a bit as he flushes, looking rather self-satisfied and indulgent. But as the beach begins to crowd, the momentary peace is blatantly over, as she states, in no uncertain terms to Thandril, "You will leave me alone." It isn't a request, as the young weyrwoman is beginning to feel hemmed in. She stands suddenly, picking up her boots in one hand as she glances around, barely skimming over P'draig's presence as she instead finds P'ter once again, unaffected by the humor of the Weyrleader's attempt to redirect her attention, "Weyrleader, I think there are a few too many people here who haven't anything productive to do. See to it that they are assigned additional duties." Nevermind that she hasn't a shred of work with her.

P'draig is typically clueless and fresh off of a sweep run that went badly indeed, but he catches S'vin's look and draws a bit closer. Jekzith meantime, wades halfway into the lake, then stops there, tail twitching back and forth, and then retreats back out of the water, sitting down on his haunches and looking upwards, eyes awhirl. "Weyrleader," Paddy greets P'ter politely and salutes (having just gotten off duty n' all) as he gets near and then waves cheerily enough. "Hey Sev ... Thandril, Lex ..." his voice dies in his throat though as he catches Piper's words and tone and stops short, brows drawing together a little in confusion.

Thandril chuckles, and shakes his head, holding his hands up as he sees the small horde of dragons arrive, and then he shakes his head, "No worries, looks like some work just arrived." he says, picking his things up and he looks around, nodding once. "Yep. hopefully not too much a mess to pick up after in the corrals this time."

The sleek brown form of Duerth makes lazy circles in the sky above the lake before finally coming to rest in the lake not to far from the coast. As the small brown dragon lazily floats on top, Lex clad in her bright red two piece dives into the water and takes a few long strokes towards the shore where everyone is gathered. As soon as she is close enough to talk but can still lounged in the water, she calls out her happy greeting. "Afternoon, everyone."

P'ter raises an eyebrow. "Additional duties," he says as if the idea is a novel, yet wonderful one. "Indeed I will Piper. Just leave it with me." He attempts to give P'draig a danger signal that comes out rather odd as the expression on his face remains woodenly good natured. "I'll speak to the Weyrling Master if you like Thandril, get some extra hands to the work later if needed?" - "Hello Lexiana"

Thandril nods to P'ter and smiles, "Yes, that would be nice to have. Dunno know how much of.. well, a mess is left with one of hers.." And he nods towards the weyrwoman, "So, extra hands is nice."

S'vin edges closer and closer to P'draig as Piper seems to be getting more and more agitated. He leans over and murmurs from his advantage height of being taller than his friend. "Gettin' worse huh?" he mutters in his rumbly baritone, nibbling harder on his bottom lip as he mostly does when he's uncomfortable. That and the shifting of his weight from one foot to the other. There is a bit of an edge to the voice of the looming young figure of the blond, his brows already drawn together.

R'yk saunters over towards the lake, partly in the wake of Yariath who's found a decent place to sunbathe, and partly towards the knot of people clustered around nearby, looking for someone in particular, although hullo, he sees someone he wouldn't mind making better acquaintences with, and he grins warmly at the charming rider-lass.

In spite of the oddity of P'ter's look, that clue finally penetrates P'draig's brain and he nods imperceptibly, casting a look back at Jekzith who is just sitting at the lake's edge, though his aspect is one of excitement and expectation. Paddy slings his jacket over his shoulder and stuffs one hand into the same pocket his riding cap has found a home in and scuffs one boot in the sand, a rather determined set to his jaw. He tips a look over at S'vin and hooks one shoulder. "Nice day out isn't it?" he replies incongruously.

Rusuth wings his way down, his bugle in response to the watchdragon's greeting low and gravelly. Landing, the big bronze is oddly restless, not settling down into his usual lazy immobility. "You'll make me slip, Rusuth," St'vren grumbles, stepping from foreleg to ground with less than his usual ease. "And stop grumbling, it was you who volunteered for this. Telgar's duties to Fort and anyone else around."

If Piper was feeling a bit claustrophobic before, it's nothing to the near wide-eyed panic that starts to set in as the lake shore begins to crowd with not just people but big dragons as well. Far from the welcoming hostess role she's normally content to play, she backs up toward the only exit possible...the water, not seeming the least disconcerted as the lake laps at the back of her heals, as her eyes suddenly glaze over, and she utters a very unladylike, "Shards."

Yariath is a veritable inscrutible giant of a brown, for where the other dragons seem a little restless, he remains unmoving beyond a rumble of greeting, and a flicker of an eyelid as he eyeballs his rider. R'yk himself is murmering something about "Well it's no wonder R'tran chooses to stay over here." but his attention is dragged off the other rider as the weyrwoman utters an audible utterance.

St'vren looks around. A nervous weyrwoman, Rusuth being restless, and oh look, it's V'lano and T'bay. This can only mean one thing. "Faranth /shard/ it, not another goldflight. Rusuth!"

Duerth lets out a loud roar towards the visiting dragons that has a strange mix of challenge and welcome to it. Now that his duties have been done the sleek mousy brown dragon moves slowly towards the looking more like a snake than a dragon. Lex gives the boys on the shore a curious look before she snaps her attention at her roaring dragon. That gets her to focus her attention on the only other woman here, Piper. Frowning at her clutchsis, she makes the few strokes towards the shore before standing up and moving towards the woman. Hssing softly, she mutters to the other woman. "Is this what I think this is?"

Volath and Sarevith arrive abover Fort in near-perfect formation, the brown seconds and mere winglengths behind his clutchsibling. Led, perhaps, by the bronze in front, the two Telgari dragons bend their groundward flight paths southwest on curving wings. As Volath finds purchase upon Fortian stone with lightly scrawling talons, his rider twists about up top and seems to stare back at Sarevith, or Sarevith's rider. A shrug, and V'lano slides down from the bronze's broad neck, doffing gloves and pocketing them while approaching the brown's side. "Got a funny feeling," he jokes, with a tip of his head toward Rusuth.

S'vin mouths something perhaps not so nice, and he blinks once at P'draig. "Day?" he asks, quickly tucking some hair behind one ear before he blinks again and nods firmly. "Yes. Yes it is." That said, the boy can't help but notice how crowded the beach has become, or the way that the dragons, even his own seems to be acting. Though his eyes go quickly to poor Piper, and he frowns. "Paddy...she's..." he mutters, concern flooding in on already confused features.

There's a sardonic smile on R'yk's face, bordering on a smirk at that announcement. "Faranth's tail 'Tran, can I not come visiting without there being something going up into the air." he grumbles obliquely to his absent twin. His attention is now focussed on the young queenrider with a speculative air. Possibilities are swirling behind his roving eyes.

Jekzith casts a brief look over at the arriving dragons, but then returns his attention in another direction. He's oddly focused today, the young brown, tail twitching back and forth just slightly."Oh boy ..." mutters his rider under his breath then shoots S'vin a -look-. "I -know-" he says through clenched teeth. "Leave her be ..."

Piper groans softly, "Why didn't you tell me, Fa, why?" not particularly caring that she's commenting aloud as she's momentarily forgotten about the crowd on the lakeshore. At least she's stopped backing up. The rumors in the living caverns would likely be horrible if she took a second fully clothed swim.

St'vren sends a glower towards T'bay and V'lano. "You two. It's always you two." Better to have someone to blame, since Rusuth's not listening at all, his eyes starting to whirl bright. "I don't even /know/ these people."

Sarevith swirls downward toward the lake, joining at the bowl's western end mere wingbeats behind his clutchsibling, Volath. T'bay, too, is quick to slide to the ground, a mock-salute V'lano-ward, then St'vren-ward as Rusuth's presence is also noted. "Shells," are his first words on the soil of the weyr they visit, then: "Something going on here, indeed. Oughtta be suspicious of them, Vel, any time they want to take us on a tour. Telgar's duties," is added to those bearing non-Telgari knots.

P'ter coughs, "On that note, I think I'll be making myself somewhat scarce for a while." He smiles to Piper, "Have a nice, ah, day."

Dragon> Flight sense that Faldaverth's dream-thoughts drip and ebb into those in the Fort area, the young queen's mind darting through shadowy paths that seem to frighten her into a startled awakeness. And in that moment of transition from sleep to alert, only one thought seems to dominate, an all consuming hunger.

P'draig clears his throat and musters his manners. "Fort's duties to Telgar," he greets the arriving riders from that Weyr and nods politely to several of the others, before falling silent once more, the knuckles of his visible hand white now. "It'll be okay ..." he says to no one in particular and then blushes similarly to his friend S'vin for saying that aloud.

Concern and confusion are rapidly joined with a touch of apprehension as P'draig talks to [S'vin] like that. What did he do now? The young bronzerider looks for a moment, startled, but then simply nods and speaks not a single word. His silvered eyes however do wander towards the direction of his lifemate, Kenleonth, who has yet to show any interest in golds. Another darting of those eerie orbs to Piper, before they once again return to P'draig. The taller of the two seems to be more on edge then his brownriding companion. "Of course it will." he replies shortly, nodding.

"Never mind tours. I'm suspicious of them at all times." V'lano shrugs again and pockets his hands as well as the gloves they're no longer clothed in. Even as Volath lifts his muzzle, nostrils twitching at some bewitchment on the air, the younger of Telgar's Weyrseconds flicks a wink toward St'vren and lifts his chin to get a better view of the top of the crowd. As one, bronze and rider hunt in silence for a few moments - then Volath exhales precipitously and prowls northwest, while V'lano chuckles deeply in his throat. "We'll blame Rusuth for this later, Stav. Don't worry."

Jekzith's tail starts to well and truly dance now and his shift color, darkening from their customary bright azure to deep violet, he takes a long whiff of the summer air and then bounces, more than leaps aloft and over into the Feeding Grounds, a portly herdbeast in his sights as he weaves to and fro low to the ground.

Dragon> Flight sense that Duerth maybe know for his clumsiness; however, his mind is far from it. Sharp and sturdy, much like the brick reds that flow from his mind, Duerth lets out a deep rumble towards the gold. << We await for you, my sweet. >>

Lexiana watches Piper talk to Fa out loud for a moment, before a few naughty curses come out in a form of a mutter. Moving right next to the goldrider, Lexiana takes the last from moment of clear though to talk girl to girl with her friend. "Are you going to be alright?"

Piper wades out of the shallows that had been her refuge, squinted upward as she tugs her boots back on over damp sand-covered feet, no doubt not a pleasant sensation. As the large shadow Faldaverth casts in the afternoon sun appears, the youngest and newest of Fort's weyrwomen sags her shoulders as the last bits of denial are torn from her. If she weren't wholely linked with her Faldaverth, she might spare an apologetic glance to P'draig, but of course, that isn't the case. "Fine," she retorts to Lexiana, her clutchmate having no comfort for her now. Piper flings herself through the gathered riders to lean against the fence of the feeding grounds to watch Faldaverth descend.

Dragon> Faldaverth senses that Rusuth teases, half mocking and half-coaxing, in a quicksilver ripple like falling water. << I will chase herdbeasts if I must, but you are fairer. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Kenleonth is seemingly much more confident than his rider, expanding his mind to reach out and touch the mind of the rousing queen. << It is time. Come, so that we may see your beauty. >> His mindvoice swells with a pride that can not be denied, the young bronze certainly not as shy as the one he chose once he broke shell. He projects than, an image of sunlight bursting forth from behind a mighty mountain veiled in purple shadows resting on a bed of soft pines.

T'bay tucks his gloves into his pocket, shrugging good-naturedly. "That's the truth of it, see. Rusuth's the lure, and ours just follow him." A half shrug that rolls his shoulders, then a sheepish grin. "Of course it'll be okay," he reassures a young white-knuckled rider. "You've got a great lake here to cool off in after, should you need it." A wink, then he's waving a hand Sarevith-ward, the blue-tipped wings of the brown losing no time in carring him after Volath and toward potential sustenance.

Duerth keeps his eyes on the other dragons as the lift off towards the feeding pen. Those eyes slowly turn with a calculated interest tallying up how each dragon moves before he also launches himself in the air, spraying water over the small group of riders, and finds himself a space on the soon to be slaughter fields.

St'vren glances at the auburn-haired weyrwoman, and her bikini-clad companion. "And you say /Rusuth's/ the lure?" But then the /real/ lure comes into dragon's-eye-view, and Stav's abruptly quiet, a sudden, thoughtful smile appearing on his face as he looks toward the feeding grounds.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith has a soft, gentle presence, hints of parchment and scrolls clinging to his outreaching, calming thoughts as he seeks the path through the shadowy mind of the young queen. << Meals are here, >> he invites, wrapping the sandy shores of the lake in flickers of gleaming sand, pointing them toward the plump beasts that await her attention.

R'yk's eyes are drawn to the grounds now as well, a proprietary smile for his lifemate, before his gaze settles back onto the queenrider clutching the fence. At that R'yk stands stock still, arms crossed across his chest and only the tic of a muscle in his lower jaw mars his countenance as he observes the situation, all thoughts of duties and greetings suppressed by what's in the here and now.

"And Telgar's to Fort," V'lano offhandedly replies to P'draig, head turning another direction after that: the lake, and that which emerges from it. A grin spreads over the bronzerider's mouth, showing teeth. "No," he sidelongs to St'vren. "I said he's the sign." The elder of the Telgari bronzeriders winks, despite that the focus of his gaze is keyed upon Piper. "Didn't he hit that lake before, afterward, T'bay? Or am I remembering a different situation?"

From the Feeding Grounds, For the almost six turns since she broke shell, Faldaverth has been the hostess, the peacemaker, the mother-figure to the Weyr. So even keel. So balanced. That all is in absence today, and yet the change has lent her a stark beauty as she descends fiercely from high above. What is awkward on land is not as her wings flare out and catch at the glittering sunlight. There is a raw purity of form evident as burnished amber talons rake down upon the first buck she sees, her hunger palpable as she wastes no time in choosing her meal.

Lexiana sighs as the game begins and Piper walks away from her. Then, she turns to watch each man carefully, much like her brown before her, for any signs of weakness. Not at all modest about her bikini and how much skin she is showing right now, the woman follows right behind the goldrider and right through the cluster of males.

From the Feeding Grounds, Kenleonth 's eyes whirl sharply, flashing a warning red as male after

male appears in the wake of a call older than time itself. His lips draw back, as if to bare his teeth in a snarl at the others here to take their chances with the soon to be rising queen. However, this is not the case, the young bronze's jaws snap out and he snatches a fat herdbeast from the scattering herb, breaking it's neck as if not wishing it to suffer. The muscles across his back ripple with their strength as he hunches over his kills and clamps his mouth down over it's neck, draining it altogether rather quickly.

From the Feeding Grounds, Rusuth doesn't believe in wasting time, not when there's someone like Faldaverth to pay court to. On that theme, he snatches his first herdbeast in the wake of the gold's landing, in a swift striking lash of ebon-clawed forefoot. There's some blood spilled, but not much. He does not waste what could be drunk. The blood is the life, after all, and fuel for the fire.

From the Feeding Grounds, The elder of Telgari bronzes prowls the grounds, luxuriating in the fear that swirls about him in the form of animals spooked by their largest predator's numerous presence. Volath creeps to a place not far from a pen's corner and waits there, sparkling eyes playing over the beasts crowded in the angle of the fences. Just when the cluster of dinners-on-hooves seems to be relaxing somewhat, the bronze flicks his head toward them and exhales a steamy, firestone-laced billow of steam. The resulting scatter sends a young animal darting toward the dragon, then faking away - but too slowly. A fleet forepaw dashes out and slings the calf into its grasp, talons raking a bloody sheet off of the side of its hide. Before the creature even gasps its last, Volath lowers his head to lap from the puddle welling there.

S'vin suddenly shutters, and his eyes close. "No Ken, please..." he murmurs under his breath, his tone pleading, but from the way he quickly swallows and pales, it might be clear that he has been denied. There's yet another wince from the tall seemingly imposing figure of the young bronzerider. He quickly slides narrowed grey eyes to P'draig, his expression truly apologetic. "He won't stop..." he whispers softly between them. "..I tried..." A pause and he closes his eyes again, his bottom lip back to being worried as his shoulders slump.

Dragon> Flight sense that Faldaverth's thoughts chase fast upon each other, lunging headlong as a child running barefoot upon the moss-coated forest paths found just outside the Weyr proper, both trying to outrace the paltry tributes the males heap upon her and the directives being issued by her lifemate, a faint sulfury tendril of smokey-heat testimony to the heated battle within.

From the Feeding Grounds, Duerth waits for the lady to dine first like a good gentleman, but once she has that oh so important bite, the clumsy brown is off to find his own. Luckly, Rusuth's eagerness brings the herd straight for the small brown and it doesn't take long for him to find one and begin the feed.

P'draig gives himself a little bit of a shake and smiles wanly at T'bay's words. "That's not --" he starts to say then shakes his head again. 'Um ... thanks," he says instead. Faldaverth's arrival prompts another intake and release of breath, and he pulls his hand out of his pocket, choosing to fold both arms across his chest. His jacket has dropped to the ground somewhere and he's completely forgotten about it, captivated at first by the sight of the gleaming gold flying above, then the shape of her very dear rider, where she leans against the corral fence. Jekzith meanwhile has not slacked in the slightest within the feeding grounds. His first beast is mauled mess left in a scarlet pool in the dust of the Bowl. The young brown's sinuous form has attached itself to another mewling beast which he takes care of with dispatch, snapping its neck with a quick shake. Faldaverth's gleam catches his eye though and he lifts his head, bugling an incongruously friendly greeting full of bubbling excitement and simple delight. She's here now!

From the Feeding Grounds, Yariath arches his neck again in another slow long drawn out movement, crooning appreciatively to the graceful creature that has come to join them. But still he shows no signs of getting a hurry along like other more impatient opponents nearby. Then without seeming to, he strikes again, quickly depriving another, lighter beast of it's life, and it's blood. Sanguine speckles his muzzle for a moment, a single droplet shining like a great ruby in the sunlight before it dances down to shatter on the earth below. Heedlessly forgotten in the anticipation of a far more esteemable hunt still to come.

T'bay shifts his gloves into his pockets, tucking them firmly inside, then raising his hand to his face to sop the damp trickles Duerth's ascent has left behind. St'vren's comment causes him to examine the gathered group for the arriving large-winged gold's lifemate, his eyes flicking from person to person until settling briefly on the freckled weyrwoman, a chuckle on his lips. "Okay, you caught me. It's not Rusuth at all. And no, V'lano, I haven't had a soak in this lake. Yet. I think."

From the Feeding Grounds, Sarevith arrives in the pens with a rather awkward landing, the territory unfamiliar, and he scatters the nearby beasts, playing a chasing game of catchup along part of the extended strip where the beasts are held. Faldaverth's cast shadows and nearby presence give him pause, and he is still, admiring for a moment the line of her noble jaw before he pays tribute to her by lessening the herd's numbers by one.

From the Feeding Grounds, Faldaverth roars out her frustration as the one who is supposed to understand and complete her holds her back from dining on every last bit of the beast she's torn down. How satisfying the crunch of bones would be! But her bond with Piper has had turns to mature, and the hold they have on each other is complete. She bloods, and bloods only, till not even the smallest red blood cell could be said to linger in the beast. But she's not above showing a bit of her frustration, taking it out on an, all things considered, rather innocent party as she tosses the carcass with a flick of her neck at Sarevith, before turning her attention away from the Telgari brown and charging a few dragonlengths across to steal another buck from an unsuspecting bronze. Mine.

Dragon> Flight sense that Rusuth does not pursue Faldaverth down those fair green paths, simply waits, still-water patient. All roads lead, in time, to one thing. Air and sky and gold shining bright.

Dragon> Flight sense that Yariath for all that Yariath's outer shell seems slow and as solid as a rock, something brighter glows within. Tendrils of the dawn's first light flicker across the midnight starscape that is his thoughts, questing to know the young queen taking her first 'beats into a different sky, and perhaps bring her back down with him.

Dragon> Flight sense that Faldaverth's thoughts flare hot, like Rukbat's heat penetrating the deepest layers of demure leaf cover to shrilly pipe << I need not be told where to find food at My Weyr! >> to Sarevith, though her frustration spills over like a rushing creek swelled by rain to include all the other males.

From the Feeding Grounds, Rusuth cants his head, his deep crooning growl a token effort to mellow her frustration. A mere token though, she is so lovely in her anger. A wherry thinks his distraction means safety, it's disabused of that notion with a snap of jaws and the slow, steady lap of forked tongue as blood drips down, shading the bronze's muzzle into carnelian.

"Oh, I meant Sarevith," V'lano harmlessly replies to the brown's rider. Dark eyes glittering, the bronzerider appends another careless shrug, but there's lupine gleam in the toothiness of his smug grin. "Taking a dip. Well, with any luck there'll be no dipping this time, eh?" An elbow at T'bay, ill-aimed and easy to avoid, and then the Telgari Weyrsecond is distracted by the fling of a beast's carcass out in the grounds. Catching sight of Faldaverth's target, V'lano laughs again, low and wry.

From the Feeding Grounds, Duerth takes his time as he drinks all the lifeblood from his chosen prey so that none can be left accounted for. Once done, the brown makes a awkward hop and skip towards the area the herd has settled and takes down another just before Faldaverth's roar startles them in to a run. A bigger buck that the first, the sleek brown hunkers down to relieve it of it's life-force with only a slight approving glance at the gold as she takes the buck from the bronze.

From the Feeding Grounds, Kenleonth actually roars, his wings unfurling and he hisses at Istan brown that gets too close to Faldaverth for his apparent comfort. His mind is painted to them as red as his eyes, or the vitae of the next lumbering prey to fall to his talons. His teeth strike true, ending the creature's life before too much time has passed, and rescuing it from any of it's vital fluids. While he blood, he keeps a watchful eye on the golden queen, every muscle in his body ready to pursue her to the ends of Pern itself if necessary.

Dragon> Jekzith has not the poetry of some others but his sending is true and simple, straight from the heart. << Of course not. We're here for you! You'll be showing us. And it's really good stuff. >> That last tagged on almost as an afterthought as he buries his nose into the herdbeast he's currently absorbed in. >>

"Faranth, V'lano, I hope not." St'vren clearly has no plans to get anywhere near that lake. Back to distractions, seeing through different eyes, and a startled laugh with the slightest edge of malice. "Of /course/ she can find her own herdbeasts..."

Dragon> Sarevith bespoke Flight with << Decisive, >> admires the sienna-traced brown from Telgar, heedless of her confusion and encouraging of her instinct. Sarevith encourages, even as his physical form ducks to avoid being pelted by the abandoned carcass, with splashes of ocean-cooled drops and Telgar's traditional snow-kissed winters, her to drink deeply of her chosen, his wilting bravado perhaps foolish in light of her anger. << You will fly far. >>

Piper has time to catch her breath once Faldaverth's acquiesced, however grudgingly, to her directive to blood only. Turning her back to the gorey sight of the frenzied feed in the corrals, she leans against the fence, her breath rapid as she struggles to focus on the sea of faces around her. Seeing both the familiar and the stranger, she clears her throat with a slight shiver, as she attempts a smile. It is weak, and certainly not flirtatious, not at this stage, but no doubt the effort cost her quite a bit.

Lexiana eyes roll at all the male arrogance around her as she turns around to face the boys behind her. "Will you three just shut up!" The brownrider demands with an edged tone to her voice that has warned off so many men. "No outsider is going to win Fa today, so if you just don't stop your pissing contest, I will personally dunk you all in the lake." Her hands come to her hips as she stares each man down.

Dragon> Flight sense that Volath's mind at last joins the fray, rumbling low in a deep echo of his rider's chuckle. Not a word from him, but sound and sensation instead: the presumptive completion of what he came here for, set against the drum of the timely beating of wings paired in time.

From the Feeding Grounds, Sarevith has just lowered his head to feed from the gaping gash his talons have torn in the his unlucky herdbeast of choice, when it is time to face the consequences of arousing the queen's wrath. He recoils from the force of her mindvoice's frustration, and scampers out of the way much as a little to hide behind it's nanny's skirts, just catching a glancing blow from the drained beast. Intent now, his next quarry's quickly dispatched, though he pays much more attention to the queen's movements now.

Dragon> Flight sense that Yariath rumbles softly, and 'speaks soothingly << Ignore them my aureate angel, they are not worthy of your beauty, your grace. >> a scattering of pure prismatic light dances across the horizon of his thoughts, an aurora that echoes the splendor of his admiration of the strong gold.

Leave it to V'lano to provide a brows-up, startled expression to the turned-about rider of Duerth. The grin refuses to leave his mouth; its dry smugness speaks volumes and makes his expression cocky, sly, despicable. "You'll want to wait 'til later to choose losers and propse a skinny-dipping date, won't you?"

Dragon> Flight sense that Duerth's mind voice ripples with the reds of pleasure as her admires the gold from afar as is the normal from this brown. So all the flirting this brown will do is to send out his admiration and pleasure that it will be to fly with her.

St'vren grins at Lexiana, something of his dragon's patient predator mindset echoed in his stance. "Oh, is she yours?" he asks softly. "And to think we didn't know. Perhaps the lady wants to make her own choice and not be led about. You might /ask/ her." And he turns his intent dark eyes on the lady in question.

T'bay's gloves are retrieved to blot at the water and the sheen of sweat on his face, and he's wincing as the herdbeast flies. "I'm not so sure about that. If we're not taking a detour to see the dragonhealers, I'll be grateful. He's...not so subtle sometimes, and unlike wise men, he thinks he understands women." A helpless look to St'vren and V'lano, then an attempt at levity as he watches the water and the queenrider's weak respite: "You think if I take that brownrider up on her offer and just go for a swim now, he'd change his mind?"

P'draig stands quite still himself, though the tension fairly zings off his body, visible in the clenching of fingers in the fabric of his shirt. His gaze is fixed on Piper and that attempt at a smile, draws out a pale echo on his own face, as if he's still repeating that mantra inside his head: "It'll be okay, it'll be okay." His head drops briefly as Lexiana chews out the outweyr riders and perhaps, just perhaps it's laughter he's trying to keep to himself now, her actions cutting through his nerves. When his head lifts once more, his arms drop to his side and this time, it's a real smile he directs at the auburn-haired young lady who has captured his heart. The push and pull of words reach him and he clears his throat. "Hey - leave 'em both be, won't you?" he says firmly enough.

From the Feeding Grounds, If Rusuth's finding her most lovely in her anger, perhaps his affection will wane as Faldaverth's hunger begins to be sated as she drinks deeply from her second kill, and a third buck is dispatched. It would be one way to whittle down the number of would be suitors. Still, despite the driving force of her need to feed slipping away, another type of hunger is beginning to coalesce. As she dips her muzzle, feeding with a lack of neatness which seems to be about the only normal trait the young queen has today, she drinks more slowly, sizing up those nearest her, Jekzith and Yariath.

S'vin has crossed his arms loosely over his chest, the pulse point at his pale throat flashing as he turns his head away from the weakened state of his friend. It could be explained as the boy simply doesn't like seeing his friend in that state, or the affects of his lifemate's desires simply are proving too much already. A few moments pass, and Kenleonth's young rider finally takes a deep breath and braves a glance at Piper once more, finding that smile. Whatever might have happened next is cut short, given Lexiana's out burst, to which he can only blink. A smile however, is brought to his face, only when P'draig speaks up for his love, even given the high tension in the air. It does not last long, for his breathing deepens. "No...another..." he murmurs to himself.

From the Feeding Grounds, Volath's head lifts in a flash, muzzle bloodied and neck freckled with calves' blood. His neck twists like a massive fish beached on dry land, tossing his head about one way and another to glower at this male, then the other. A snarl sings out toward Kenleonth, as if the roar offended. If nothing else, it interrupted his peaceful sup. The calf forgotten, the Telgari bronze leaps upon the back of a cow skirting nearby, flattening her with his weight, only to drink again.

From the Feeding Grounds, Rusuth does not falter when alteration finds, oh no. Faldaverth is lovely in all situations, in her hunger and her brightness and the contrast of scarlet against molten gold. He bites the throat of another wherry almost absently, so focused is his attention, and even as he drinks, he watches. The other males can roar and snarl at each other, he will keep a weather eye on what /matters/.

From the Feeding Grounds, Duerth gives out a short roar at the outsiders just as Lex turns to face them in the circle that seems so far away. This roar seems to knock something loose, or more important in place, in the brown's mind as he suddenly look different. Different how can a dragon look different? Anyone who has known this brown or any length of time will notices the subtle change in his posture and body. Gone seems to be the clumsiness that follows this brown wherever he goes, and in its place is a more elegant fighter and lover.

Piper has had enough too, enough of watching the snipes and jabs at each other amongst the other riders, and she abruptly turns her back upon the lot of them. This is more speculative attention than the girl's ever received before, and she's not comfortable with it, not at all. However, as Piper refocuses on her Faldaverth, a surprised, secretive smile forms. Those who are to the sides may catch a glimpse of it, and perhaps, have a small bit of forwarning for what is about to come.

From the Feeding Grounds, Jekzith utterly ignores all of the males in feeding pen. He's got eyes only for one today, and she's right there before him. His attention has drifted from eating, to admiring Faldaverth, the way the sun glances off her hide, dazzling the purple of his eyes to pale lavendar. His tongue skitters along the edges of his muzzle, chasing after wary carmine drops there, streaking his hide back to the funny pale brown that lies there. The young brown sways a little in place, a thrum rising in his throat rather than a roar or another bugle, almost like the sound that dragons make when eggs are about to hatch. It's another sort of beginning today, for Faldaverth and those who would win her.

R'yk is still standing a little ways away from the main crowd, though not so far that he can't observe the males at work in the pens. The sardonic smile that lingers on his face is laced with satisfaction as he notes Yari is an easy sized match for some of the bronzes in the pens. Still, it's not up to Yari, but the queen to choose one of her suitors, and that will be the telling proof. His eyes fall back on Piper now, intently watching the Fortian queenrider for any queues there.

From the Feeding Grounds, Three, and now on his forth, Kenleonth breathing has deepened as he his own need to blood starts to ebb. While not as messy and driven by the need to spread out the entrails of his prey in some kind of morbid love bouquet, the young male is now completely focused on Faldaverth, his jaws leaving his last kill only half drained of life's blood. He licks at his muzzle, his head lowering to watch the glowing queen and any intentions she might have. Resting back upon his haunches just slightly, it may appear he's ready at any time to begin a persuit, or simply resting in preparation for the game to begin.

It takes a strong woman to impress a brown and an even stronger woman to be impress to Duerth, so the outsider's words do not cause LExiana to back down. In fact, they seem to spark the predatory and defender inside the woman To V'lano, she simply flashes that quiet but sexy smile of hers at him. "Oh, I am sure you would like a date, but you are far from /my/ type." And then to St'vren, she just simply smiles. "She is ours plain and simple."

From the Feeding Grounds, Yariath drops his head slightly, nudging the third buck in Faldaverth's direction as he senses her attention on him. Every muscle in his back and neck is coiled in readiness for the long flight ahead of the brown, but he gives no other outwards sign of his readiness beyond an appreciative crooning.

From the Feeding Grounds, Sarevith watches intently the fluidity of the large Fortian queen and her blood-stained ivory talons, his skittish hesitance unusual yet measured, his distance shrewdly planned to be clear of any further tossed discards. His own meal is cut short by his pacing, and his wings flutter restlessly, all posturing toward the other males nearby, his barrel chest rounded and thrust outward, ready to leap skyward at the first sight of tension in her haunches.

St'vren chuckles, the low laugh not /quite/ purely amused. "I guess that remains to be seen. It's up to her--I imagine she'll want a change of pace, groundbound here for so long." And speaking of changes, that expression on Piper's face--his gaze locks on the weyrwoman, waiting for a cue.

"I have one," V'lano replies with sudden gentility, tipping his head down and lowering those long, long lashes over his dark, merry eyes. For a moment he looks solemn, graceful, almost reverent. Then he lifts his head and fixes Lexiana with a brilliant grin. "Good luck, brownrider," he offers, as if he really means it, and turns in place, eyes leaving Faldaverth's rider and the prospective target of all these others present to scope out other means: Fort's bowl, Fort's sky, Fort's grounds. Just looking. Just thinking.

Dragon> Flight sense that Rusuth is all suggestion, the warm winds and the colors of the summer sky, lift under wings and cries that echo in the high, clear skies. Marvelous night for a moonsdance, at Faldaverth's leisure.

Lingering on the edge, just behind P'draig, is S'vin still. He's paler than most would probably like, more so now that he seems to be hovering just on the edge of the conversations going on before him. Perhaps it's the summer's heart that has brought the first beads of sweat to his brow, or maybe just the effort at keeping Kenleonth back from whatever the overzealous young bronze might like. He remains quiet though, seeming to be watching over Piper from afar, as his eyes wander to her now and then as if to check her status. Thusfar however, it is not lust, or even dragonlust that drives him to do so, for the former holder looks to be growing more and more uncomfortable.

From the Feeding Grounds, The hunger for food has come and gone, the crimson curtailing itself first to a deep berry as a more regal mantle of violet seeps into her gaze. The love she has? Not for any of those males who would have her, but for her Weyr, her skies, her freedom. Where she seems about to blood another, crouching in a posture the likes of which she struck from earlier, she in fact coils her substantial hind limb muscles and bursts aloft, carolling her glee at finding the messy feeding grounds left behind in a powerful upsurge propelling her away, an excellent head start as she downbeats to distance herself further.

Piper lets out a breath as some of the tension eases from her shoulders, "That's right, love, up and away from all of this, I couldn't agree more!"

T'bay takes a step back, putting further distance between the auburn-haired rider's inability to further retreat, bound as she is by the fence and circled loosely by her queen's admirers. "Just keep your hands off her until -she- says that, lest she be less friendly to you after, hmm?" is directed back toward Lexiana before T'bay notices that his own fidgeting, mirroring Sarevith's, has led him to unraveling the lining of one glove. "Aw, shells. I always lose something when I go visiting--my jacket, my gloves, my--attention."

Dragon> Flight sense that Kenleonth snakes a single tendril of thought out to the now rising queen. << I will follow you, anywhere, lovely Faldaverth. >> It is not commanding as of yet, nor is it either particularly sly or charming. The young bronze's mind is a pillar of strength, and behind it a force that will drive him far and beyond his limits should it mean success.

Above the southwest area, Volath senses the tension, the waiting - his wings lift and steeple in a high fold above his spine, sails whispering against one another with passing breeze. His forehaunches tense with visible trembles of muscle beneath dappled hide and his neck arches taut as his drinking becomes more and more intense, almost desperate in his urge to drain the beast before dragons take wing. Still, he remains still-footed, not yet reaching skyward, and his only reaction to Faldaverth's arising is to stop his passionate feeding and lift his head, watching her sail aloft. A rumble in his broad chest sings after her, and the Telgari bronze stretches up onto his back haunches, then throws himself from the ground skyward.

Another exhalation of breath and Paddy sways just as Jekzith has been. He reaches over a bit unsteadily to give S'vin's arm a comforting nudge. "Just be with Kenleonth. Don't ... think about anything else," he says quietly, his eyes starting to acquire a bit of a glaze to them. "Though ... Shards is this ever more intense than any greenflight," he struggles the words out for his friend. He looks down at the toes of his boots, and then up, sidelong, Piper's way a number of different emotions warring across his face.

Piper turns tail, taking advantage of the majority of the riders' attention to their lifemates to hasten away, fleet-footed despite her uncomfortable sand-containing boots.

Faldaverth> Rusuth was waiting for that, was anticipating that, has indeed been waiting eagerly for Faldaverth to take wing. Yet the quickness and speed of it golden flash connecting earth and sky, still catches him a breath offguard. But only a breath, and that can be made up quickly--he leaps skyward, spreading wings wide to glean whatever aid the winds can offer, and finally roars out his intentions. Too slow, always following, but he'll catch up.

Faldaverth> Yariath stretches his wings with a almost audible snap at the suddenness and leaps into the air. The wingbeats are strong, carrying him higher with each powerful downwards draft. Here the brown gathers a much more subtle grace than he showed on the ground and the air beneath his wings is a much more freer medium for Yariath to paint a canvas with. Sizing up his opportunities quickly, the brown climbs higher still over the huge caldera that is the first Weyr.

Faldaverth> Up up and away she goes, and Jekzith hasn't missed it, though the fact that he winds up in the sky so soon after her, has more to do with energy and a springy leap from the ground, more than anticipation of her moves. The sky here is familiar, the queen too and Jekzith is a good flyer. His wings sweep through the air above the bowl, carrying him higher in pursuit, though as he rises after Faldaverth, his own delight in simply being airborne bleeds all over. << Here we go ... here we go -fast-! >> Joyful is that sending, laced through with youthful exuberance as his long brown shape sidles between currents, wingsails wide open, like those of a ship cutting through white-capped waves on the sea.

Faldaverth> Duerth has been watching the gold for her take off cue as closely as one can, so it doesn't take more than a millisecond for the brown to resister it and follow right on the tail of the gold. Once in the air, the sleek brown proves that some-things never really change. His wings beat in that off pattern that he is known for, causing the air to roll off his body in weird turbulence that will make trouble for anyone riding behind him.

Faldaverth> Sarevith, despite being ready and aware, is delayed in takeoff by his prodigious size and inherent wariness of the queen of the copper-kissed neck. His muscles contract, and with a forceful bound, he takes to the air, feeling out the wind's currents and finding those most sympathetic to his cause, allowing them to absorb his weight and facilitating a conservation of energy, one he doesn't make the best use of as he wastes a few precious bursts in hissing at a brown that flies a bath too close to his own.

Faldaverth> Another defiant roar escapes from Kenleonth as Faldaverth takes off to the skies without even a hint of warning. His wings already poised at the ready, he is mere seconds behind her into the air, but a near collision with a Telgarian bronze nearly he himself out of the running before ever really getting started. A cry of alarm escapes him only briefly, but soon he recovers. Back on track, his eyes quickly scan the sky head as he can barely see now the golden dot of the prize far in the distance. With a few large wing movements that may cost him in the end, Ken pushes himself aloft among a few straggling chasers, and lingers there to just long enough to watch the way Fal is moving.

Dragon> Flight sense that Yariath if his wingstrokes are punctual, measured, exact, his mind isn't. The brown's thoughts are edged with blues, roiling silvery clouds skidding across the 'scape. His ardor is suppressed, as evident in the ripples of lurid purple and boysenberry hues dancing along the edges of the clouds carefully controlled. But the joy with which he takes to the sky after the gold dances out like brilliant bursts of lightning. Finally he bugles << I'm coming my fair lady, Let me prove worthy of your wonder, and wonder not as all is as it should be. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith lingers at the edge of perception, a constant in the land where earthslides reshape calderas at a moment's unwariness. No words has he to further provoke the airborne polished gold, instead flickering the reflections of moonlit sand in an urging, a teasing, pushing her onward to show them what she can do.

Snapped out of his reverie by a friendly nudge, S'vin's clearly unfocused eyes come to a point upon P'draig's face as returns from his clouded and muddled thoughts. He smiles weakly at his brownrider friend, taking a shaky breath and nodding. "I'm trying, but..." A pause. "Yes, much...much more intense. He wants...he needs..." he pants, and his head jerks up as Piper makes a run for it. Now utterly focused, he sets off after the older girl with almost as much intention as his lifemate, losing himself to wave after wave of bizarre sensations.

Dragon> Flight sense that Rusuth is fixated on gold. Not the faint luminosity of Belior or Timor, vague and inconstant moons as they are, but the gleam and glimmer of ascending Faldaverth. Assuredly something to strive for. << Wish I may... >>

R'yk remains silent for now. His arms, uncrossed while he was moving after the weyrwoman, are now at his sides, thumbs hooked into his trousers. It might seem causal, like the almost insouchant slouch he's adopted as he leans against the wall. Indeed he's smiling, and the edge of it is bordering on an arrogant smirk. R'yk is definitely more than a little amused at this charming occurance.

Faldaverth> Faldaverth has studied every breath of wind, every swirl of air current of her home. As she soars higher and farther away, her lines and path are straight as an arrow for the moment, allowing her to savor this early lead and enjoy the mere sensation of being aloft. She's not a tease, to peer behind her or writhe and wriggle, she is as she should be, straightforward and direct in her flight, dappled by hues not normally hers as her glowing brightness picks up the new hues the sky has been subjected to as sunset commences.

P'draig makes a misstep as he turns to follow Piper, stumbling a little and so he is a little late entering the weyr and tripping over his feet as he does. "Whoa ..." he exclaims as he careens, more than steps into the space. He hits a spot on the back wall, catching himself with his hands and then just leans against the rock for a moment, cheek pillowed against it. He swallows a few times and lets the coolness of stone cool his face, before he turns around.

Amidst the pouring of maleriders, V'lano too migrates from bowl to ledge to guest weyr, slipping inside the small cavern with a smirk and a tip of fingertips to temple, saluting the one who preceded them in. Not that Piper's likely in any position or mood to notice - but drunk on his beast's sudden soar, the Telgari Weyrsecond is cocky, and seeks out Thunderbolt's wingleader from the crowd once more to snipe, "If I'd known, I'd have brought punch and tea and cookies." A pause. "And cards."

Dragon> Flight sense that Kenleonth does little more than keep himself in contact with the resonation of Faldaverth's mind. Keeping track of her as it were as she is that much farther head. << You can shake them off Faldaverth. >> He encourages, seeing just how many of her suitors are hot on her tail as it were from his back vantage point. << Do not give in easily. >>

Faldaverth> Rusuth is not gilded or bejeweled by sunset hues as is Faldaverth. Rather, his dark hide absorbs them, deepening bronze to copper and catseye, gem-glints of garnet and citrine and his eternal grizzling of silver. A treasure trove, but nothing to compare to the pirate's plunder that is the queen. Straight on to morning she'll go, and so will he, winging in her wake with steady wingbeats. Only his croon, raspy and coaxing, warns her of his pursuit.

Dragon> Flight sense that Duerth's mind is ever presence at the edge of others and more important Faldaverth's. As the brown has never been much of a lady wooer, he doesn't say anything to make sure he keeps his talon out of his mouth. Instead he just gives the constant reassurance of being there for when he is needed.

T'bay's distraction with his self-destroyed glove has him turning to follow, straggling after the retreating tide, a lost and confused expression gradually shifting to one of comprehension and awareness. The wending path to the guest weyrs complete, T'bay hangs back, the curtain half over his shoulder and his ample rearend left to bar the entryway while he peeks in. "If we're lucky, we'll avoid the punches today," he puns, weakly. "Though how you'd concentrate on cards at a time like this..."

St'vren circles the room in quick, wary paces, gaze flickering over each other rider in turn, tallying strengths and weaknesses and dismissing them with a snort or a laugh or a mockingly-lifted eyebrow. Piper is not dismissed, Piper is the main sttraction, and his prowling keeps him circling her. "Cards? Not the right game for this."

Dragon> Flight sense that Jekzith is silent now as well, only his joy in the flying still exuding outward, in widening rings from the young brown. This is typical of him, even this most atypical of days. His thoughts jangle at first with wild excitement, then focus in on Faldaverth, wordless flashes of imagery, sun bouncing off of wingsails, the scent of salt in the air, the feeling of wind kissing every inch of hide.

S'vin slips in and takes a spot instantly besides P'draig, taking Lexiana's earlier out burst as an indication she was not in the mood for company unless of course it happened to be Piper. Not knowing any of the others, the Fortian bronzerider thumps back against the wall there and lets out some hair from his parted lips as he rolls his neck off to one side and then the other.