Log: Faldaverth's Maiden Flight Part 2

[jekzith]

Faldaverth> Faldaverth is silent and sure, slicing through the air with a minimum of fanfare, spiriting her treasured freedom far from those who would track and hunt her down. Vocalizations would only make her so much more visible on their radar, and as such, save for that initial heralding of flight, she's more quieter than mousey Duerth's normally given to being.

R'yk overhears the comment of the 'second and feels his fist curling at the implied slur. It's only by sheer will of concentration that he manages not to hit his superior and return to his more casual stance. You can feel the stench of raw testosterone rippling amongst the presence of so many eager riders though. R'yk drags his fist up to his jaw and rubs it instead, trying to dispel the sour taste in his mouth. Fixing his gaze on the weyrwoman now instead.

Piper clears her throat, her satisfaction at seeing her lifemate off to such a brilliant lead having caught her up for a long moment. But now that she looks around, there's a certain nervousness to her features, and she avoids the more lurid gazes of those who seem to be sizing her up as a future bedmate in favor of those who maintain more mundane topics. "Cards?" V'lano's words find purchase somewhere in her sievelike mind.

Faldaverth> Duerth could kiss Faldaverth is she was a human for keeping to the straight path. Picking up speed while he can, the mousy brown concentrates on his wing strokes and the gold ahead of him for any subtle hints that may elude to her changing directions on her. Unlike the others and more like Fa, he is a silent predatory as not to waste any energy or though on something that will not get the job done.

Faldaverth> Jekzith arrows after the golden mote in the sky, Faldaverth laced within sunbeams as the bright orb slides down towards the horizon, nearly matching them for hue, at least in the brown's eyes. He relies less on sight than his sense of her, she who is usually such a friend and guide. He lofts himself higher with sure strokes of his broad wings, the amber light catching at the motley of his hide, the strange streaks and gradiations blended together as if by an artist's brush, by the light. On he goes, perhaps going a little faster than he ought. He may pay for that later, but for now it only serves to buoy him, increase his gladness in the flight, the feeling of being on a great journey with her, the one he's following.

Faldaverth> Sarevith recovers from having fallen victim to Duerth's discarded turbulence, and his maw sets determinedly, eyes narrowing as various levels of lids protect his whirling red eyes from the brunt of the winds. Out of reach though their silent siren may be, Sarevith ducks below the fray and strikes out on lower currents at a curved trajectory, even, steady, and intent wingbeats sucking the marrow from them for all it is worth.

"Never did concentrate on them," V'lano replies to T'bay, a little louder since the brownrider's turned to look over his shoulder. A little louder still, for St'vren's benefit: "Something just to hold in your hand, to hang onto and fix your eyes on." The Weyrsecond seems to have no real issues keeping his eyes moving; they pass over Piper and, after a glittering moment, keep going. "Cards," he repeats. "Do you have a deck?" Perhaps he's not in perfect mental condition himself - but aside from the circles he's talking in, the repetition and unlikely questions, he does a good show of appearing alert and self-present.

Faldaverth> Rusuth is undeterred by such tactics as silence. Besides, it's hard for a glowing gold to be invisible in the darkening sky. He himself, now, might ghost along in a sneaky fashion if he wanted. Except he doesn't. An overeager Igen bronze gets snarled at, and he arches his big body /up/ and away from the press in a twist that may cost him later. But it's enough to get him higher and keep the fair Fal in sight, and that's all he needs.

Faldaverth> Kenleonth sees his chance now that he's had a chance to watch how Faldaverth moves. Calculating and sure, the Fortian bronze takes a diagonal route, and starts to swell with confidence as he indeed sees the shiny dot that was Faldaverth growing larger and larger. He cuts into a pack of browns just managing to maneuver out of the way before one of them decides to take a sudden turn which would have caused them to collide. This causes Ken to loose some of his edge, and he can only watch in horror as the gold slips out of his grasp yet again. This does not though, deter him. No, if nothing else it fuels the fan of his desire all the more and he beings to watch her again, waiting for another chance to present itself.

Faldaverth> Yariath tucks a wing in slightly and rolls to the left sensing the presence of a thermal. All the while his head his fixed in the direction of the queen ahead of him. The facets of his eyes twinkle in the light of the setting sun, reflecting back a myriad of pastel hues - soft sunset shades - and the underlying gleam of crimson edged by almost golden flecks of excitement and passion. And the distance he loses by climbing is not lost that hard, as the brown's wingstrokes easily cut into the gap that's opened between them, although it's still anyone's guess where Faldaveth will choose to twine.

Faldaverth> Dappled by droplets and starlight, Volath throws his wings wide to accept, not deny, the rippling wakes of fleeter browns and small bronzes before him. Not the largest, he nevertheless soars on steady, tail ruddering the sky to keep him steady aimed after the golden shot rising above. Whipping now with the passing wind, his 'sails remain seemingly relaxed, growing taut only when an updraft offers him welcome lift. Maw parted, blood drying and then flying away in flecks to leave his chin clean once more, Volath 'smiles' against the sky and hurtles after.

Piper shakes her head mutely. Course she didn't bring cards. She wasn't thinking of this. Her hands twist and twine together as she focuses on the floor first, then then the ceiling of the weyr.

T'bay pushes the rest of himself inside and free of the tangling curtain. "I got a half a wherry sandwich from yesterday, a wooden top, a bunch of cookie crumbs, a brown too close on my left--" His eyes glaze, then clear. "No, that's the other me, the one with wings. Anyway, want the cookie? Or the wooden spinny top? We could spin it and have to kiss the--" A wary look around, gaze hesitating on Piper, then passing onward, "On second thought, maybe this isn't the best time for that."

"There's other things to hold onto," St'vren murmurs, answering V'lano a little late. He's not /trying/ to stare at Piper, that would be rude. It's just happening on its own.

Lexiana has been here the whole entire time, really. Still dripping wet from her short swim in the lake, the woman moves stand right in the middle of the rest. Her eyes are fixed on Piper, but like R'yk they are not there to size the woman up, after all, she has seen the woman naked being the fact that they were weyrling's together. Heck, she has even been naked with the for-mention goldrider. (Now I got you thinking about two women naked together don't I. I am an evil person.), but instead she radiates friendliness and sisterly concerned for the woman she watches. V'lano's talk of cards have her given the man a sideways look before turns her head to smile at the woman.

P'draig's hands jam back into his pockets and he looks down at his boot-tips, rather than around at the room too much. His eyes lift a little though as mention of cards is made. "Aren't there some in here?" he nods towards the hearth vaguely as if there might be some conveniently present on the mantel. The shaking of Piper's head draws his gaze that way for a moment, and there's way too much racing through the young brownrider's mind as concern and longing go toe to toe. His fingers find something in the depths of his pocket and he pulls out a small stone, smooth and rounded, slightly reddish in hue. A ghost of a smile quirks up one corner of his mouth and he wraps his hand around the object, as if to ground himself with its reality.

Faldaverth> Faldaverth isn't about to let only her chasers make use of the Fortian air currents, indeed, choosing a place where the air current catches her up almost like a slingshot and arcs her flightpath out to the west. In this way, she'll use her knowledge to make herself more difficult to catch, since she hasn't the more wiley antics of her smaller green sisters. Dipping a wing, she cascades onward, buoyed in little hops along thermals along the way.

The uncomfortable feelings that have S'vin on edge, aren't lessening. In fact, the harder Kenleonth pursues Faldaverth the thicker he has to swallow. His already deceptively seeing grey eyes, could not be any more unfocused. He is with his lifemate as Paddy had suggested, and so he can not leer or make advances even if the notion occurred to him. Wiping hastily at his brow, the Fortian bronzerider simply seals his silvered gaze behind his eyelids and soars high above the weyr, thinking of nothing but the winds across his body and the strength behind every powerful wingbeat.

Faldaverth> Rusuth has to scramble to reorient when the formerly straightlining Faldaverth suddenly veers into the west as though to follow the setting sun. By dint of a full-bodied midair stretch and quick vaning and tilting of his silver-edged wings, he's able to catch a bit of that slingshot air current and pursue the gold in her journey. She'll take the high road, he'll take a lower one, and perhaps they'll meet--who can say? Still crooning deep and warm, still calling, he continues.

Faldaverth> Yariath notes with quiet appreciation the twist the young queen uses to shake off some of her less astute chasers, and he gives a little more effort to winging after her, angling more across to intercept her flightpath - erratic as it seems. Sliding through the air easily, his hide catches the light of the setting sun and picks up the highlights in his colour, and deepening the already dark swathes of colour. And still the brown wings after the golden beauty in the air, more brightly lit at this moment than anything else here, and since.

"Only if you can fix it so it always points toward gold." V'lano pauses. "Piper." Again he tips his head down and the long lashes lower, though this time it is not the reverent-smug-knowing that marks his expression, but a dry, brief flush of self-awareness. It passes swiftly, and as above, Volath lifts his head to gaze after the rising shot of amber trailing toward the stratosphere, V'lano lolls his own back on hunched shoulders, rolling his neck as if it's gone tense. Slowly the dark-eyed man backs up and finds, after half-trodding on a nearby toe and muttering a softspoken apology, the wall of the weyr with his back, and slumps into it.

Faldaverth> Ah! There it is! Kenleonth, having been watching, can almost predict that Faldaverth was going to try something to shake those getting too close. Taking advantage of his craftiness now, he pivots at the last second and lets several other males overshoot him as he takes a course that brings him that much closer to the goal. He starts to rumble meaninglessly, not so much cocky in his cunning act, but with the effort now he uses to claim that which he so blatantly thinks is his to have. He doesn't try to sweet talk the queen, to convince her that she needs him, no. Instead, he focuses in on her and only her, letting the wind carry to her the answer that she seeks.

Faldaverth> Sarevith falls prey to the conniving winds of Fort, luring him into a false sense of security as he's carried along comfortably, then cast off in an unplanned direction, seduced by their wiles as if the queen directed them herself. Westward is this desert-brown's destination when he breaks free of the currents, still flying low, and he's fighting them now, using his strength to make up the distance and aiming to end up at the end of the rainbow-like arc Faldaverth has chosen.

Dragon> Flight sense that Jekzith is perhaps prodded by a memory from his rider. As Faldaverth hops through thermals, he shimmers another image her way of stones skipping along the lake's surface, flying free from those who cast them and sailing off into the coolness of the water as surely as she now sails into the oncoming cool of the evening. He does not woo as others do, lacking the sophistication to do so, but his wordless sending continues, building up layers of imagined fancy, of distances traveled and distance yet to go and the fun that can be had along the way. There's comfort offered too, an underlying current of steadiness, wound about the curiousity - what will be found around the next bend? In the next turn? Let's find out -together- seems to be the implication.

Piper gulps softly at T'bay's suggestion, looking patently relieved as he seems to realize that it's about the last thing she'd like to have happen at this moment. Her cheeks have heightened color to them, as if it were she, and not Faldaverth that were expending all the effort.

Faldaverth> Volath rumbles a surprised note at Faldaverth's sudden upshot, arching his back and neck to swing his head high and watch the distance between she and he increase. The powerful muscles of his wingshoulders tense and ripple as the joints strain in their sockets, spars bending with the sheer weight of wind and the beast those winds carry. Finally, now, the Telgari bronze's sails stretch to full reach, singing high notes with the passing wind, and a powerful thrash of his tail completes Volath's turn to match the queen's moves. Without that friendly updraft to help him, he spends vital energy in making the rise and the turn, but even as the hide over his shoulders twitches with the dance of strained muscles below, he still pursues.

Dragon> Flight sense that Yariath warbles into the air poignant entreaty against the risen sun that is Faldaverth. Silvered blues settle into deep mysterious greens as he adds another vocal plea, all the while winging closer << Come lady, let us dance together in this glorious evening. Feel the wind beneath our sails, and the warmth of the light on our backs. Let me take you away from all these others my fair Faldaverth >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Rusuth suggests, only suggests, and all his suggestion is sunset color and light, vivid and filling the otherwise empty sky. So empty. Should she continue flying so, she would find nothing, and the colors fade. Let her turnabout.

Faldaverth> Jekzith distracted a little by stargazing at the gold, Jekzith is also late to turn, but he takes advantage of leanness and agility, to execute a rapid, sharp twist of his own. As much as his mental not-chatter keeps bathing all with the idea that flying is the greatest thing since Faranth, he's matching it with the truth of his own moves. There's no smugness in him for it either, though his excitement at having achieved the turn so well bubbles forth like bright water from a discovered spring. He surfs through the air, skimming along it, like foam on the waves.

Faldaverth> Ever seen a boulder flying through the air? Well, picture that when you think of Duerth in this flight. Never the gracefully or smooth flier in the first place, the sleek brown hits the current that Fa does just sortly and uses it to also slingshot this boulder in the other direction. He is now barreling so fast that his off beat wings cause an even more of a stir in the air behind me. Through all this, the brown finally lets out a sound, a soft but pleasant rumble as she uses the current that he showed her, (or at least, in this mind he did. Is it the truth, who can tell.)

Dragon> Flight sense that Kenleonth is present, but silent. So utterly focused now, he doesn't waste the energy on filling Faldaverth's head full of nonsense to try and sway her. No. Instead, he is merely an encouraging strength behind her, giving her perhaps just a small amount of his power to help her escape just for a little while longer. It's not so much gentle, as it is a prodding, urging the glowing gold to push herself just that little bit further and faster. Not to give up to just anyone.

P'draig clears his throat softly and once again, repeats the words that seem to be all that are carrying him through this evening: "It'll be all right." He falls silent once more and follows his own advice, leaning back against the wall beside S'vin. His eyes drift close and he just lets go, hitching his consciousness fully to Jekzith's.

Dragon> Flight sense that Duerth mind is solid as the brick red that comes with it. No words are said, only the hint of the strength and protection that will come with him if he is chosen is sent forth to the gold.

Already using the wall as his leaning spot, S'vin left out a soft groan of effort, as if taking upon himself some of the burden that Kenleonth has. "Must." is all the young bronzer can manage, though to whom this is directed is not voiced allowed. No longer pale as death, the blond's cheeks have colored with a deep flush, the only sounds from him now a rumble or his own breathing as if in the middle of a long footrace.

Faldaverth> Faldaverth lets those behind her jockey for position as they will. Their calls and images find themselves left behind as the young queen uses the only resources at her disposal to muscle on ahead. As the evening wears on, passing into twilight, it becomes evident, however, that try as she might, Faldaverth is tiring. The Fortian dragons might notice how she just misses a chance to changeup her trajectory again by stealing a thermal she and Duerth played with as weyrlings. The Telgari might instead have the greater knowledge of flights and notice how her wings beat more frequently now to keep her on course. Or perhaps anyone can see that the gulf has begun to shrink. As is the curse of all smart females, Faldaverth can see what is happening, and does the only thing she can think might buy her time, furling her wings and dropping, let her altitude decline as her speed increases in a dizzying dive. Who will be strong enough to help her stay her fall as this maneuver takes her last bits of energy?

St'vren looks at P'draig, with perhaps a little sympathy in his dragon-lost eyes. "It will be. One way or another," he agrees. Taking a quick, harsh breath, he slips back to Rusuth, to wings and wind, back to the wall.

And what is she chopped liver? Nevermind, she is only haft dressed. Oh, right, goldflight. Lexiana press her lips together as her breath becomes heavier as Duerth get further in the chase. "That's right, keep to the currents let them carry you, love," is mutter under her breath, and as the other males back up against the wall, Lexiana finds herself alone in the middle of the room. Which seems to fit her just find, as it puts her inbetween Piper and /them./

R'yk gives his head a shake and crosses his arms across his chest again to still the clenching of his fists. This time the palpatation is exquisite. He's not a callous youth, but this is a queen flight, and all that entails. His gaze focuses on Piper now, an he looks at her intently, dark eyes hoping to catch hers as well. And still the game plays out around them all.

T'bay shoves his hands in his pockets, his own face taking on a hint of color to accompany the beads of sweat he's bearing, and he, too, uses the wall as a support, eyes avoiding Piper altogether lest he further bumble. "'s a good mantra," he mumbles, sparing a glance of wry bemusement V'lano's way before he, too, is lost in the moment.

"She's fallen," V'lano murmurs, shaking his head, grinning. "Taken the last way out - unless - " Speaking to no one, everyone, and himself, he tips his head back farther yet, the crown almost resting against the wall. Though his lips move, no more words come forth.

Faldaverth> Rusuth is startled, again, by Faldaverth's sudden drop, and reacts on instinct. His wings snap down as he imitates her, ready to catch up and catch her as she falls--and something else snaps, audibly and painfully. The big bronze has overextended himself, and not even earnest desire can help him now. With a snarling roar, he half-drops, half glides down out of the pack of chasers, one wing held awkwardly. No shooting the moon tonight.

St'vren's eyes are suddenly wide open and completely /there/. He curses once, loud and absolutely vicious, and runs out of the weyr without a backward glance.

Piper trembles, sensing that the time for fleeing is well since past. She clears her throat once more, and resurveys the guest weyr. As her eyes linger for a long moment on P'draig, one can almost read her thoughts begging it to be Jekzith who catches her Fa. Lexiana, being the closest to her, is eyed with a deepening scarlet to her cheeks. Who would have guessed, in weyrlinghood, the heat that could be between them? But she's startled from her revery of each and every person in the weyr by the vision of Rusuth's exit from the flight, and her gaze flies to the departing St'vren.

Faldaverth> Yariath senses, more than sees the faint signs that mark the faltering of the queen's flight. As each stroke of his wings bolsters the nearness to the shining sweetness that is Faldaverth, the brown moves elegantly around other clusters of males, those that would end up tangling wingsail and limb in their overeager haste to catch the queen. But he knows it's not time just yet. As the sun sinks lower on the horizon, he senses the strength of the great lady falter and he dives strongly, twisting now into a lethal spiral that only just misses other bronzes, other browns, all intent on the same glittering prize. With the assurance of strength and certainty Yariath reaches out with talon and tail to attempt to arrest the fall of so valiant a lady indeed.

Faldaverth> And now, she falls. Volath arches again, upending the brutal backward curve of his back to become a downward bend, neck swinging low and tail flying high as he begins to depart after her, to hurtle toward Pern hot on the golden trail. But that will not be his endgame. It is the dragon's turn to go glassy-eyed, to ride the sky in his rider's mind rather than the reverse. Obedient to whatever order he's been given, a startled snort escapes his nostrils, and the Telgari bronze changes tactics. A last look at the furled wings that whip about Faldaverth's sides, a last remark for the benefit of the pack chasing, and with sudden intensity Volath hurls himself skyward once more, soaring for a point at which the queen might arrive after a sudden bolt westward - were she faking the weariness that caused that sudden descent. It is, perhaps, an unlikely gamble.

Dragon> Flight sense that Volath rumbles with sudden, sheer intensity. << She cannot - >> A moment to cool his ire, and with chill as cool as Telgar winter and as sweet as the syruped sap of Lemos woods, he redirects: << You cannot be so tired. Not yet. >>

Faldaverth> Two as one it is now, for Jekzith, his rider's mind tangled firmly within his. It's been this way really, from the start, though P'draig has learned to make the divide stronger. Under these circumstances, that's all blown away though, and while the flight has seemed almost a party to the brown so far, his rider's iron-willed determination comes to the fore now. Jekzith was turning already to make the dive, but instead of a lackadaisacal turn, something causes him to tighten his wings, turning him into a sleek speeding streak across the sky, not to catch up to her, but to get -ahead- somewhat, be the break to her fall, the one to hold her up, if she so chooses. Wings, feet, head all align, compacting Jekzith so that he is a mere line against the lingering light of the sun. There's a lot of speed to be gained in such a maneuver, and yet it may prove a poor gamble if she is playing tactics. As straightforward as ever, Jekzith, and his rider choose the straightforward path too, reaching with everything in them -both- to take this journey they've begun to the limit.

Faldaverth> Sarevith has almost arrived at his destination, dragonlengths below the queen, to seek the figurative ore-polished pot of gold at the end of her circuitous course. He backwings hastily as the queen begins to plummet, the pressures of air against his wings strong, though his fortune is greater than Rusuth's, as the reddish-chestnut wings slice through the air, then his sails billow fully, avoiding injury. His maw parts, his first sounds a cacophony of noise segueing into a resounding croon of both sorrow and renewed energy, and he barely avoids the plummeting Telgari bronze when he redoubles his efforts to cradle the tiring gold.

V'lano is whipped to awareness by the sheer wind of St'vren's sudden passing, and his head lifts in a hurry, eyes wide and staring. They take in Piper first, held to her by magnetism made stronger by the current of her queen's fall. Then he glances at the waving, rippling curtain, and squints, as if he must think quite hard to figure out who it was that departed.

Faldaverth> Kenleonth folds his wings against his body only after Faldaverth disappears. A quick glance downwards confirms her position, and remembers with a sliver of oneness a sudden burst of memory something from the aerial show over Boll. He lets himself fall after her, tipping himself backwards and letting gravity alone carry him with his sheer weight as his benefit to bring him closer and closer to her. He can all but feel her all around him, abandoning sanity for this one last chance to take and keep this elusive golden dream. There is a half turn in the air, and he reaches out with all his limbs in that one last desperate attempt to claim and make her his own. There is no more time to chase, or fly. The time is now, and so he calls to her. He does not try to woo her, he does not try to while her away with empty words and promises. It is only her name he says, with all his strength and passion bursting behind it.

Lost is Paddy. If he were looking, the same intensity that's on Piper's face would be mirrored on his own. But he's not home right now. He's up there, trying to make for sharding sure that Jekzith gets there first, pushing the dragon outside of his bubbly shell to be there, be the one.

Faldaverth> Duerth may be small, but his is still a brown and that gives him some strength. And right now, his small size can be used to his advantage. As Faldaverth drops, he tucks in his wings and follows quickly behind her, using his small sleek size to cut the wind resistance and make the drop faster. Aiming to get behind her and below her, he counters her spiral with one of his own. While other may wait for her to come out of her dive, Duerth will catch her while she is in and use his strength to pull her out of her glorious descent.

T'bay sucks in a breath, startled and worried, as Rusuth in the sky wings away from those gathered in heated pursuit, and St'vren marks a hasty exit. "Shells, hope he'll--" Though anything further is swallowed by haze, a graying perception of reality blocking logic and preventing further speech. His knees start to buckle, and all casual-like, he palms the wall for further support.

Straining, S'vin finally allows his eyes to open to mere slits again, but they are no more seeing then they were moments ago. The passing of St'vren, stirs up the air thick with emotion, and he can only sigh at the heat now tingling his every pour. He never did stand the heat of summer very well, and with the added discomfort of his blood boiling thanks to the goldflight, it's slowly becoming unbearable.

Lexiana stand her ground as Duerth makes his final attempt at the gold. Her eyes haft close, the woman takes one long deep breath as she lets thing play out how they will, for good or for bad. Piper's redden checks are met with a soft knowing smile before she closes her eyes completely.

Faldaverth> While Volath certainly has the knowledge and experience to know better than many of the others how quickly a queen may tire, he has not gauged correctly in this circumstance. As she blooded only three kills, her energies have been spent, and perhaps it is fate. For Faldaverth's always had a love for the least likely, and in any case, Kenleonth's too far above to slow her fearsome descent, and it only the trio of smaller and more maneuverable browns that are able to get into position quickly enough to have a chance at her plummetting form, while Yariath misses as she passes by, just barely. And while Faldaverth's home is all to her, it is as she turns to allow herself to be caught by Duerth or Jekzith that a billow of reddish-chesnut wings staggering away from Rusuth's exit foul her flight, and she finds herself treasured in Sarevith's embrace.

Faldaverth> Yariath feels his tail brush lightly against the queen as she just edges past his grasp, before all his energy is redirected into missing the steep walls of the bowl. There is only a lingering air of remorse, tendrils of regret as he wings downwards disconsolately.

Faldaverth> A mournful croon is Jekzith's utterance as another brown wraps around Faldaverth. The only problem is, he's still crashing groundwards himself and very fast at that. He manages to stop himself from crashing entirely, but it's not a good landing at all.

R'yk nods, with nothing more to say he spins and walks out of the room to leave the riders some privacy.

Faldaverth> Duerth pulls out of his dive with a little more than as soft cry of aguish before using that last bit of strength to pull herself out of his dive and wings towards home.

Lexiana's shoulders sag as Duerth misses and softly walks out of the room.

Faldaverth> Volath arrives at the posted location, the romantic rendesvous point whereat he turns about, tail curling for the embrace, paws outstretched to take her in - only to find his limbs wrapping empty air, his wings beating to support no weight but his own. A lonely croon is cut short as the bronze takes in the scene unfolding where Faldaverth -did- arrive and, moments later, Sarevith's clutchsibling whirls in the air and lets his strained wingshoulders rest in a downward spiral to the bowl floor.

Staggering under the crushing weight of the lost flight, P'draig doesn't even look back. He lurches out of the weyr, and then another reality hits him and he takes off running across the Bowl at full tilt.

"That's right - she'll whip up again in a heartbeat - " But V'lano is wrong. Very wrong. And he finds out the hard way, hands unhooked from his pockets and reaching for a goldrider who is not there. "Down!" he cries, but too late, and after a stunned moment staring the bronzerider breaks into low, droll laughter. Words form and unform amidst his chortles, finding their way to his lips but failing at reaching his voice, and finally he does what he must do: leave. But not before tossing a wink Lexiana's way.

Faldaverth> Sarevith finds himself rather startled to discover the bright yet molten queen in his embrace, perhaps as much as she to be found there, though he's quick to extend his wings and tail to pillow, then to twine with her lest she change her mind.

S'vin winces against Kenleonth's roar of outrage, and shakingly pushes himself off the wall that was his strength through this. He misses Paddy's escape, and he doesn't even so much as glance in Piper's direction as he hurries himself to escape the scene and find a place to cool off.'