Log: In which there are two queens too many
Date: Day 28, Month 4, Turn 25 of Interval 10
Summary: What was a routine errand run for Taikrin and Szadath devolves into chaos as the brown takes it into his head to go after the senior queen. And then, apparently, the junior queen too.
NorCon MUSH - 3/27/2011
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Northern Bowl, Fort Weyr
This section of the bowl is just as devoid of plantlife as the central portion, the sandy soil having been packed more solidly due to the sheer amount of foot traffic passing through. While there are weyrs located to both the east and west, there are very few toward the north.
Toward the northwest would be the ledges for the junior goldriders, while a second flight of stairs leads up to the Weyrleaders' complex. A little to the northeast is the entrance to the hatching cavern, while an entrance to the living cavern is located directly to the east. At the opposite and distant southeastern end of the bowl would be the lake and feeding grounds, with the weyrling barracks and infirmary to the southwest and southeast, respectively.
Contents:
Szadath(#1824Qabe$0)
Preita
Elaruth
Hattie
Obvious exits:
Southern Bowl Living Cavern Inner Caverns Hatching Cavern Records Room Weyrleaders' Complex Junior Ledges
Aldroth has arrived.
The rain that lingered throughout the morning started to lift about midday, leaving blue skies and a chill spring wind in its wake, a weak sun shining down and doing little to take the edge off of the nip in the air. All the while, through the rain and the more pleasant weather, Elaruth has been perched up at the break in Fort's bowl, quiet and still and /watching/ everything from the waterfall below to any new visitors to her Weyr. It's only recently that she's relaxed little by little as her hide sheds its usual pale lights and takes on a more brilliant glow than days past. She dozes now, leaving her rider close to the foot of the steps up to her ledge in the northern bowl, Hattie's expression stoic as she observes bronzes and browns crowd the Weyr's pens with no regard for the restrictions imposed.
Like a moth to the flame, Szadath has been inexorably driven to join Fort's males at the feeding ground. Nevermind their original purpose, nor that they weren't precisely /invited/, High Reaches least popular brownriding pair are here now. Despite his infamiliarity with the terrain and populace, raw aggression has given the hulking brown not only a couple of bovine victims, but a spot in which he has a clear view the dozing Elaruth. Taikrin? She's swaggering across the bowl as if she owned the place, determinedly making her way towards the weyrs.
On the surface, it would appear that Fort's only Junior has for once done as she was told. Yshtiath is conspicuously absent, and there's no sign of hair, hide or sulky pout of Preita herself.
Waylaid on his journey, it's a flustered-looking rider that appears in Fort, bearing a knot of Igen. Bronze Aldroth thinks nothing of the interruption, crouching low to the ground near the feeding pens, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
At first, it's just a twitch of her white-gold tail-tip. Then another and this time it's as if the move flows all the way up the little queen's spine as she wakes, uncurls and turns all at once to eye the males down in the pens below. Not one shriek does Elaruth make as she dives down and neatly ends the life of a herdbeast, expecting everyone to get out of her way as she flares her wings and hunkers down over the carcass, making short work of blooding it as though she knows /exactly/ what she's doing and has to do. Another is slammed against the fence and drained, then a third in quick succession, her snaps at nearby males still lacking in vocals. Across the bowl, when Hattie spots Taikrin, she's already distancing herself from a couple of Flint's riders, trying to literally keep them at arms' length. "You're not Fort," she snaps the way of the High Reaches brownrider.
If one word were to be ascribed to Szadath, it would probably be 'hulking'. Two words, though? The second would definitely be 'loud'. The roar that escapes him as Elaruth lands is inappropriately loud, as if he alone could make up for the queen's silence. "Surely ain't," Taikrin agrees, full of smug assurance, as she picks her way through the predominantly male crowd. Her gaze is drawn, briefly, to Szadath's wanton kill of an ovine he doesn't even want to blood. But then it's back to Hattie, complete with a smirk. "Lucky Fort."
Aldroth reaches out his neck, weaving back and forth to follow Elaruth's progress. The tawny, desert-dappled bronze is as watchful and silent as they come, ready for the kill - er, flight.
Szadath's roar has Elaruth flinching away and pressing lower to the ground, head shaking as if just a little bit dazed. Once she's regained her mental balance, she hurls her latest bloodless carcass his way, sticks and stones for words she doesn't have. Aldroth's weaving has her darting his way aggressively, though that course of action is abandoned and she halts with one forepaw in the air. When Fort's Senior finally does decide to use her voice, it's a clattering challenge of a note that she holds as she leaps skywards, barrelling straight up, up, and so help anyone who gets in her way, her path taking her south and towards Fort Hold. Blinking to try and focus, Hattie demands, "Get gone!" of Taikrin, voice cracking with the volume so suddenly summoned. Igen too? She stares, clearly not quite believing her misfortune and covers her eyes with one hand.
"Sure, sure," soothes the brownrider, as Szadath attempts to duck under the flying projectile. "Don't you mind us none." But she's clearly /not/ going away, nor, with the way her gaze is losing focus, is she likely to move for quite some time. Heedless of the bloody streak left trailing down over his ridges, Szadath leaps into the air after Elaruth, bellowing in her wake. He jostles against a Fortian bronze, talons flailing in a not-quite-fair way as he creates a clear pocket of air in which to begin his pursuit.
Aldroth meets the challenge head-on, out of etiquette for a visiting bronze but too swept up with mating lust to realize it. A collision is averted when Elaruth swerves, giving the Igen bronze a sense of victory in the deadly version of dragons' "wherry". He growls deep in his throat nevertheless, irked that she had been so close but not his to catch ... not yet. Dark dapples down his hide show while he leaps for his own beast, one fluid motion - some males do, some don't, but the inactivity before a chase is simply intolerable to the action-oriented bronze. His rider stumbles back a bit, age wizening him to these experiences. Ke'hai knows there's nothing he can do to stop his dragon, but his dark eyes narrow as he fights to keep his own mind, to keep away from Hattie, keep away...! Maybe he's just as scared as she.
Miles away, but not enough, a sudden ruckus kicks up in the valley when the herds belonging to Fort Hold are suddenly targeted by a different glowing, golden form. Yshtiath has no admirers for her first blooding, a fact that only spurs her anger as she turns whirling eyes towards the sky and the flock of males following Elaruth. They should be /hers!/ Roaring her fury, she flings aside her fourth and last horrendously mauled carcass and launches into the air after her rival, determined to remedy the unfairness of the situation. And back at the Weyr? There's a sudden angry shriek from a human throat as Preita appears from the direction of the lower caverns, dishevelled and sloppily dressed, carrying with her the cloying scent of musky, patchouli-heavy perfume. "You!" she shouts as she stalks towards the gathering riders around Hattie. "You were supposed to /wait!/" Her reality is clearly not Pern's reality.
Even as she leads on a chase, Elaruth is not a flirt. Oh, males are there and she's /interested/, but not quite as interested as she is in finding challenging air currents to twist through and coast on; which currents /they/ can find to speed after her. However, anxious her rider is and determined does that make her, every effort made to keep those in pursuit far, far behind her. That is, until she senses Yshtiath's presence and her mood alters utterly, finally a shriek torn from her as she dives sharply down in what looks like an attempt to knock her junior right out of the skies. On the ground, the Weyrwoman's struggle is obvious. "You don't-" Hattie tries to tell Taikrin, hands curling into fists as she takes slow paces back towards the steps up to her ledge. "You /can't/!" she growls. "Stop. Him," is shared between the brownrider and Ke'hai, more to follow that's interrupted by the sound of Preita's voice. Just like her queen, her mood shifts suddenly and she bellows, "You /stupid/ girl!" the junior's way, clearly meaning to go for her.
Poor Szadath, despite his aggressive lashings-out, is clearly at a disadvantage. He sideslips through unfamiliar thermals when he should be riding them instead, and despite expending prodigous effort is still within the last third of the pack. This, of course, means that he's got a fantastic view of Yshtiath's arrival. Angry bellows turn confused, and his sudden backwinging very nearly causes a mid-air pileup. Taikrin likewise freezes, her smirk half-slipping off her face. She blinks stupidly at Preita with a gaze that's still slipping in and out of focus, and can only manage to make garbled sounds that only vaguely resemble words. Buh?
Aldroth swerves in a tight, confused circle as Yshtiath arrives, but he doesn't give up an inch of well-earned altitude. He won't, he can't - wings billowing to still his progress, he lets a warm draft carry him over the two, now hunting his prey from on high, spiraling in wait. They can't stay down there forever, and he'll be ready when they reach his level once more. The older bronze has also learned throughout his many turns, many flights, not so hot-blooded now as he was on the ground. Elaruth or Yshtiath, it doesn't matter to him, all he sees is gold and more gold, /his/ rightful prize. Ke'hai, on the other hand, now takes immediate action as his dragon slows, able to find himself - nearly fifty now but still hale - his target is Hattie, the one moving more violently towards the other, trying to hook his arms under hers from behind, an attempt to hold her back. He can't find the words, or at least whole sentences of them. "Easy, easy." As if talking to a runnerbeast, something to be tamed, "Git back."
Yshtiath twists in the air, dropping a wing to turn herself sideways as she angles away from Elaruth's dive. But only enough to avoid a full-on collision. Because she's going for the pale queen, another roar shaking the trees as she lashes out at the senior as they pass each other in the air. Yshtiath's the one those males should desire, not this weak-minded little creature! "You arrogant bitch! I. Am. Not! Stupid!" Preita screams back at Hattie with all the pent up sulky resentment of a teenager still struggling with puberty, despite her actual age. She's picked up her pace, jogging now as her arm comes up. If Hattie wants a fight she's more than happy to give it to her, her fingers crooked claw-like, fingernails at the ready.
Elaruth's next shriek is one of pain, talons catching her flank as she reaches Yshtiath, her cry twisting higher to call to /her/ males to help her; catch her; get her fellow queen away; any and all of them. Neck curving, she darts the junior's way, jaw open and meaning to clamp around a wing-joint and wrench it free or shatter it, pushing away in the next moment as she tries to regain altitude. Hattie lets out an unintelligible yelp of protest as her arms are grabbed and she's pulled back by Ke'hai, boots trying to find enough purchase on the bowl floor to keep her right where she is or kick at Preita as she approaches. It's a futile effort to stay where she is and she lets forth a stream of curses that would put a sailor to shame, struggling still. "This my /home/! My Weyr, you /outsider!/" she yells Preita's way, words rather slurred though they are. A desperate look is shot Taikrin's way, another woman in this mess, seeming to hope that she'll help her because of it.
Ke'hai's motion finally spurs Taikrin into action, though her movements are still uncoordinated and clumsy. She lurches towards Preita, seeking to grab the other woman in a wrestling hold around the shoulders, the chest, anywhere that can provide control. "Oi! Take it easy! Th'shells goin' on here?!" Szadath hisses at the bronze flying just off his wing, as if this were all /his/ fault, and remains hovering in confusion. Several of the nearby males, older and more clear-headed, break off to fly towards the dueling queens. The brown trails after them, sluggishly, calling to first one queen then the other in plaintive bewilderment.
Yshtiath's bugle of triumph at her successful hit turns into a squall of pain as Elaruth's teeth find their target. Wrenching and kicking the younger queen snaps at the elder's neck as she tries to get away. Once released she veers off, her flight wobbly from the pain. In counter to Elaruth's call she sends out her own. /She/ is the one they should be helping, /she/ is the one they should listen to. These are her skies, hers hers hers! Preita falters, blanching as she's hit with the empathic backlash of her gold's injury, making it easy for even a clumsy attempt at being captured to succeed. "I'm going to kill her," she tells the foreign brownrider in a curiously matter of fact voice, more because she's dazed by shock than being possessed of whatever wits she can lay claim to. "D'you hear me?!" she yells across at Hattie as she begins to struggle against Taikrin's hold on her. "I'm going to kill you! This should be /my/ Weyr; I DESERVE IT!"
Ke'hai realizes he has two women intent on clashing; although Hattie was the first to make an aggresive move now Preita is without restraint. He daren't let go of Hattie, it would be impossible to stop the two just by standing between them. "You. YOU." He bellows to Taikrin, a complete stranger. "SOMEONE." His own eyes are going distant, and it's only a matter of time before he is too wrapped up with Aldroth to be of help on the ground, not unless someone else takes action. Aldroth hisses, a long, drawn-out kettle whistling as he dives towards the golds - though his intentions are slightly different than his rider's. The hiss turns to a beguiling cry of desert winds, musical over empty dunes. He uses his altitude to dive straight down with the force of a falling stone, attempting to bowl straight between the two, talons reaching at anything, trying in vain to make contact, to catch and control.. On the ground, Ke'hai seems less and less himself even as Taikrin lunges for Preita. His hold on Hattie does not loosen, perhaps even tightening,
Teeth scrape and dig into Elaruth's neck, prompting a scream that's echoed by Hattie below, but the pale queen's not done yet, oh no. Aldroth's dive has talons dragging across her other flank and draws an off-key cry and a harsh /kick/ in his direction. Arching back Yshtiath's way, she reaches with forepaws outstretched and talons sharp, aiming to shred whatever wing fibre she can find in her grip before trying to push away, using the younger queen as something of a platform to do so if she can. Meanwhile, a woman wearing the knots of a greenrider has been hovering on the edge of the whole conflict in the bowl for a minute or so now and finally finds her voice, yelling, "For shells' sakes, get them out of each other's sight! Get them to their weyrs! Somewhere! I don't know!" Her words are almost drowned out by Hattie's hoarse-voiced response to Preita as she continues to try and fight free of Ke'hai's grip. "Just try it, you mad little whore! I'll show you what you DESERVE!"
Taikrin might not be large, but she's strong -- even if she's operating primarily on instinct at this point. Once she's got a grip on Preita, she means to /keep/ it by any means necessary, even if she has to trip the other woman and sit on her. "What the shells is goin' /on/ here!!" she bellows, uselessly. "Just--- /stop/!" For once in his life, Szadath is not the aggressor here. He dives towards the queens, only to stop a length away and hover again with another plaintive cry. He stops and starts several times, side-slipping this way and that as he looks for an opening or something-- some return to normalcy, some way back to the rush-chase-catch thrill that he was seeking.
Aldroth is flung backwards by the unexpected force of Elaruth's kick, but manages to somersault out of it, using the momentum to come at the queens once more. /He/ is not going to stop just because of some silly human tangle down below. Unaware of the damage he's done, he reaches once more - they are so close together that he does not discern one from the other, simply who is moving the fastest, catching his predatory eye. Ke'hai turns forcefully, trying to at least get Preita out of Hattie's line of sight. He hasn't a clue where /her/ weyr might be, but the bronzerider starts shoving at her towards the nearest tunnel. His expression is pained and reluctant, aching to join his dragon, but you don't live to be fifty on Pern without knowing a thing or two.
Talons score down Yshtiath's side from Elaruth's using her body as an airborne launch pad, making her bellow again in pain and anger mixed before they're finally separated. The damage done to her wing has taken a lot of the fight out of her however, and a goodly amount of the flight as well, as she does the mid-air equivalent of a drunken stagger, unable to hold a straight course. A plaintive cry is sent to those males still at higher altitudes, the younger gold unable to sustain the wingbeats necessary to try to join them. If she can wrest but one victory out of this, she will, and forcing herself to turn, she rams her way between Elaruth and Aldroth, putting herself in a position to be caught by the bronze -- or to her mind, steal him from her rival. Preita's ineffectual flailing against Taikrin falters, but the insistence in her repetitions of "Let me go!" chances from enraged to a different kind of urgency as her focus abruptly veers away from Hattie and centres on Ke'hai. "Him," the young goldrider pleads of the woman holding her captive. "I need him."
Though clarity doesn't return to Hattie's gaze, she matches the effort of her lifemate and wrenches herself free of Ke'hai's grip, though winds up screaming through gritted teeth and cradling her right arm for her trouble. Staggering, she blinks around her and stumbles the way of the steps to her weyr, scrambling unsteadily up them, a handful of bronze and brownriders flowing after her. And not a moment too soon, given what goes on above in the space between Weyr and Hold. Knocked off-course by Yshtiath, soaring away triumphantly and trailing ichor after her, Elaruth surges strongly up, up, up through the clouds again, close enough to brush past Szadath as she goes... only for her escape to be short-lived as bronze limbs tangle with hers and tails and necks twine tight even as she struggles, leaving her all wrapped-up safely in Mecaith to fall through the skies once more.
Aldroth folds his wings at this opportunity, a desert hawk diving for the final fatal blow - no, the catch, the grasp of Yshtiath to his own body, sweeping past Elaruth as breezily as if she were no more than a wherry. He bugles then, finally loud and brash, only briefly taunting the other males before opening his wings to let the pair drift earthwards. Ke'hai abruptly releases Hattie, his strides aimed either for Taikrin or Preita, it's hard to tell, but his eyes are not one of a rider within his own mind and body.
So confused is Szadath that he throws himself to one side as Elaruth goes past, only to vainly twist after her once she's gone past. But no, it's far too late-- and with another plaintive call he breaks off pursuit and begins to spiral down towards the bowl. Taikrin takes a moment to figure out what's going on, but Ke'hai's determined strides are a pretty solid clue. She pushes herself away from Preita, scrabbling backwards on all fours in her haste to get /away/.
Preita's whimpering in pain as she staggers away from Taikrin, reaching for Ke'hai to fumble the way to her own weyr. Poor little tot, she got an /old guy!/ As if the injuries to Yshtiath weren't going to be traumatic enough. But thankfully, everyone will survive.
Summary: What was a routine errand run for Taikrin and Szadath devolves into chaos as the brown takes it into his head to go after the senior queen. And then, apparently, the junior queen too.
NorCon MUSH - 3/27/2011
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Northern Bowl, Fort Weyr
This section of the bowl is just as devoid of plantlife as the central portion, the sandy soil having been packed more solidly due to the sheer amount of foot traffic passing through. While there are weyrs located to both the east and west, there are very few toward the north.
Toward the northwest would be the ledges for the junior goldriders, while a second flight of stairs leads up to the Weyrleaders' complex. A little to the northeast is the entrance to the hatching cavern, while an entrance to the living cavern is located directly to the east. At the opposite and distant southeastern end of the bowl would be the lake and feeding grounds, with the weyrling barracks and infirmary to the southwest and southeast, respectively.
Contents:
Szadath(#1824Qabe$0)
Preita
Elaruth
Hattie
Obvious exits:
Southern Bowl Living Cavern Inner Caverns Hatching Cavern Records Room Weyrleaders' Complex Junior Ledges
Aldroth has arrived.
The rain that lingered throughout the morning started to lift about midday, leaving blue skies and a chill spring wind in its wake, a weak sun shining down and doing little to take the edge off of the nip in the air. All the while, through the rain and the more pleasant weather, Elaruth has been perched up at the break in Fort's bowl, quiet and still and /watching/ everything from the waterfall below to any new visitors to her Weyr. It's only recently that she's relaxed little by little as her hide sheds its usual pale lights and takes on a more brilliant glow than days past. She dozes now, leaving her rider close to the foot of the steps up to her ledge in the northern bowl, Hattie's expression stoic as she observes bronzes and browns crowd the Weyr's pens with no regard for the restrictions imposed.
Like a moth to the flame, Szadath has been inexorably driven to join Fort's males at the feeding ground. Nevermind their original purpose, nor that they weren't precisely /invited/, High Reaches least popular brownriding pair are here now. Despite his infamiliarity with the terrain and populace, raw aggression has given the hulking brown not only a couple of bovine victims, but a spot in which he has a clear view the dozing Elaruth. Taikrin? She's swaggering across the bowl as if she owned the place, determinedly making her way towards the weyrs.
On the surface, it would appear that Fort's only Junior has for once done as she was told. Yshtiath is conspicuously absent, and there's no sign of hair, hide or sulky pout of Preita herself.
Waylaid on his journey, it's a flustered-looking rider that appears in Fort, bearing a knot of Igen. Bronze Aldroth thinks nothing of the interruption, crouching low to the ground near the feeding pens, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
At first, it's just a twitch of her white-gold tail-tip. Then another and this time it's as if the move flows all the way up the little queen's spine as she wakes, uncurls and turns all at once to eye the males down in the pens below. Not one shriek does Elaruth make as she dives down and neatly ends the life of a herdbeast, expecting everyone to get out of her way as she flares her wings and hunkers down over the carcass, making short work of blooding it as though she knows /exactly/ what she's doing and has to do. Another is slammed against the fence and drained, then a third in quick succession, her snaps at nearby males still lacking in vocals. Across the bowl, when Hattie spots Taikrin, she's already distancing herself from a couple of Flint's riders, trying to literally keep them at arms' length. "You're not Fort," she snaps the way of the High Reaches brownrider.
If one word were to be ascribed to Szadath, it would probably be 'hulking'. Two words, though? The second would definitely be 'loud'. The roar that escapes him as Elaruth lands is inappropriately loud, as if he alone could make up for the queen's silence. "Surely ain't," Taikrin agrees, full of smug assurance, as she picks her way through the predominantly male crowd. Her gaze is drawn, briefly, to Szadath's wanton kill of an ovine he doesn't even want to blood. But then it's back to Hattie, complete with a smirk. "Lucky Fort."
Aldroth reaches out his neck, weaving back and forth to follow Elaruth's progress. The tawny, desert-dappled bronze is as watchful and silent as they come, ready for the kill - er, flight.
Szadath's roar has Elaruth flinching away and pressing lower to the ground, head shaking as if just a little bit dazed. Once she's regained her mental balance, she hurls her latest bloodless carcass his way, sticks and stones for words she doesn't have. Aldroth's weaving has her darting his way aggressively, though that course of action is abandoned and she halts with one forepaw in the air. When Fort's Senior finally does decide to use her voice, it's a clattering challenge of a note that she holds as she leaps skywards, barrelling straight up, up, and so help anyone who gets in her way, her path taking her south and towards Fort Hold. Blinking to try and focus, Hattie demands, "Get gone!" of Taikrin, voice cracking with the volume so suddenly summoned. Igen too? She stares, clearly not quite believing her misfortune and covers her eyes with one hand.
"Sure, sure," soothes the brownrider, as Szadath attempts to duck under the flying projectile. "Don't you mind us none." But she's clearly /not/ going away, nor, with the way her gaze is losing focus, is she likely to move for quite some time. Heedless of the bloody streak left trailing down over his ridges, Szadath leaps into the air after Elaruth, bellowing in her wake. He jostles against a Fortian bronze, talons flailing in a not-quite-fair way as he creates a clear pocket of air in which to begin his pursuit.
Aldroth meets the challenge head-on, out of etiquette for a visiting bronze but too swept up with mating lust to realize it. A collision is averted when Elaruth swerves, giving the Igen bronze a sense of victory in the deadly version of dragons' "wherry". He growls deep in his throat nevertheless, irked that she had been so close but not his to catch ... not yet. Dark dapples down his hide show while he leaps for his own beast, one fluid motion - some males do, some don't, but the inactivity before a chase is simply intolerable to the action-oriented bronze. His rider stumbles back a bit, age wizening him to these experiences. Ke'hai knows there's nothing he can do to stop his dragon, but his dark eyes narrow as he fights to keep his own mind, to keep away from Hattie, keep away...! Maybe he's just as scared as she.
Miles away, but not enough, a sudden ruckus kicks up in the valley when the herds belonging to Fort Hold are suddenly targeted by a different glowing, golden form. Yshtiath has no admirers for her first blooding, a fact that only spurs her anger as she turns whirling eyes towards the sky and the flock of males following Elaruth. They should be /hers!/ Roaring her fury, she flings aside her fourth and last horrendously mauled carcass and launches into the air after her rival, determined to remedy the unfairness of the situation. And back at the Weyr? There's a sudden angry shriek from a human throat as Preita appears from the direction of the lower caverns, dishevelled and sloppily dressed, carrying with her the cloying scent of musky, patchouli-heavy perfume. "You!" she shouts as she stalks towards the gathering riders around Hattie. "You were supposed to /wait!/" Her reality is clearly not Pern's reality.
Even as she leads on a chase, Elaruth is not a flirt. Oh, males are there and she's /interested/, but not quite as interested as she is in finding challenging air currents to twist through and coast on; which currents /they/ can find to speed after her. However, anxious her rider is and determined does that make her, every effort made to keep those in pursuit far, far behind her. That is, until she senses Yshtiath's presence and her mood alters utterly, finally a shriek torn from her as she dives sharply down in what looks like an attempt to knock her junior right out of the skies. On the ground, the Weyrwoman's struggle is obvious. "You don't-" Hattie tries to tell Taikrin, hands curling into fists as she takes slow paces back towards the steps up to her ledge. "You /can't/!" she growls. "Stop. Him," is shared between the brownrider and Ke'hai, more to follow that's interrupted by the sound of Preita's voice. Just like her queen, her mood shifts suddenly and she bellows, "You /stupid/ girl!" the junior's way, clearly meaning to go for her.
Poor Szadath, despite his aggressive lashings-out, is clearly at a disadvantage. He sideslips through unfamiliar thermals when he should be riding them instead, and despite expending prodigous effort is still within the last third of the pack. This, of course, means that he's got a fantastic view of Yshtiath's arrival. Angry bellows turn confused, and his sudden backwinging very nearly causes a mid-air pileup. Taikrin likewise freezes, her smirk half-slipping off her face. She blinks stupidly at Preita with a gaze that's still slipping in and out of focus, and can only manage to make garbled sounds that only vaguely resemble words. Buh?
Aldroth swerves in a tight, confused circle as Yshtiath arrives, but he doesn't give up an inch of well-earned altitude. He won't, he can't - wings billowing to still his progress, he lets a warm draft carry him over the two, now hunting his prey from on high, spiraling in wait. They can't stay down there forever, and he'll be ready when they reach his level once more. The older bronze has also learned throughout his many turns, many flights, not so hot-blooded now as he was on the ground. Elaruth or Yshtiath, it doesn't matter to him, all he sees is gold and more gold, /his/ rightful prize. Ke'hai, on the other hand, now takes immediate action as his dragon slows, able to find himself - nearly fifty now but still hale - his target is Hattie, the one moving more violently towards the other, trying to hook his arms under hers from behind, an attempt to hold her back. He can't find the words, or at least whole sentences of them. "Easy, easy." As if talking to a runnerbeast, something to be tamed, "Git back."
Yshtiath twists in the air, dropping a wing to turn herself sideways as she angles away from Elaruth's dive. But only enough to avoid a full-on collision. Because she's going for the pale queen, another roar shaking the trees as she lashes out at the senior as they pass each other in the air. Yshtiath's the one those males should desire, not this weak-minded little creature! "You arrogant bitch! I. Am. Not! Stupid!" Preita screams back at Hattie with all the pent up sulky resentment of a teenager still struggling with puberty, despite her actual age. She's picked up her pace, jogging now as her arm comes up. If Hattie wants a fight she's more than happy to give it to her, her fingers crooked claw-like, fingernails at the ready.
Elaruth's next shriek is one of pain, talons catching her flank as she reaches Yshtiath, her cry twisting higher to call to /her/ males to help her; catch her; get her fellow queen away; any and all of them. Neck curving, she darts the junior's way, jaw open and meaning to clamp around a wing-joint and wrench it free or shatter it, pushing away in the next moment as she tries to regain altitude. Hattie lets out an unintelligible yelp of protest as her arms are grabbed and she's pulled back by Ke'hai, boots trying to find enough purchase on the bowl floor to keep her right where she is or kick at Preita as she approaches. It's a futile effort to stay where she is and she lets forth a stream of curses that would put a sailor to shame, struggling still. "This my /home/! My Weyr, you /outsider!/" she yells Preita's way, words rather slurred though they are. A desperate look is shot Taikrin's way, another woman in this mess, seeming to hope that she'll help her because of it.
Ke'hai's motion finally spurs Taikrin into action, though her movements are still uncoordinated and clumsy. She lurches towards Preita, seeking to grab the other woman in a wrestling hold around the shoulders, the chest, anywhere that can provide control. "Oi! Take it easy! Th'shells goin' on here?!" Szadath hisses at the bronze flying just off his wing, as if this were all /his/ fault, and remains hovering in confusion. Several of the nearby males, older and more clear-headed, break off to fly towards the dueling queens. The brown trails after them, sluggishly, calling to first one queen then the other in plaintive bewilderment.
Yshtiath's bugle of triumph at her successful hit turns into a squall of pain as Elaruth's teeth find their target. Wrenching and kicking the younger queen snaps at the elder's neck as she tries to get away. Once released she veers off, her flight wobbly from the pain. In counter to Elaruth's call she sends out her own. /She/ is the one they should be helping, /she/ is the one they should listen to. These are her skies, hers hers hers! Preita falters, blanching as she's hit with the empathic backlash of her gold's injury, making it easy for even a clumsy attempt at being captured to succeed. "I'm going to kill her," she tells the foreign brownrider in a curiously matter of fact voice, more because she's dazed by shock than being possessed of whatever wits she can lay claim to. "D'you hear me?!" she yells across at Hattie as she begins to struggle against Taikrin's hold on her. "I'm going to kill you! This should be /my/ Weyr; I DESERVE IT!"
Ke'hai realizes he has two women intent on clashing; although Hattie was the first to make an aggresive move now Preita is without restraint. He daren't let go of Hattie, it would be impossible to stop the two just by standing between them. "You. YOU." He bellows to Taikrin, a complete stranger. "SOMEONE." His own eyes are going distant, and it's only a matter of time before he is too wrapped up with Aldroth to be of help on the ground, not unless someone else takes action. Aldroth hisses, a long, drawn-out kettle whistling as he dives towards the golds - though his intentions are slightly different than his rider's. The hiss turns to a beguiling cry of desert winds, musical over empty dunes. He uses his altitude to dive straight down with the force of a falling stone, attempting to bowl straight between the two, talons reaching at anything, trying in vain to make contact, to catch and control.. On the ground, Ke'hai seems less and less himself even as Taikrin lunges for Preita. His hold on Hattie does not loosen, perhaps even tightening,
Teeth scrape and dig into Elaruth's neck, prompting a scream that's echoed by Hattie below, but the pale queen's not done yet, oh no. Aldroth's dive has talons dragging across her other flank and draws an off-key cry and a harsh /kick/ in his direction. Arching back Yshtiath's way, she reaches with forepaws outstretched and talons sharp, aiming to shred whatever wing fibre she can find in her grip before trying to push away, using the younger queen as something of a platform to do so if she can. Meanwhile, a woman wearing the knots of a greenrider has been hovering on the edge of the whole conflict in the bowl for a minute or so now and finally finds her voice, yelling, "For shells' sakes, get them out of each other's sight! Get them to their weyrs! Somewhere! I don't know!" Her words are almost drowned out by Hattie's hoarse-voiced response to Preita as she continues to try and fight free of Ke'hai's grip. "Just try it, you mad little whore! I'll show you what you DESERVE!"
Taikrin might not be large, but she's strong -- even if she's operating primarily on instinct at this point. Once she's got a grip on Preita, she means to /keep/ it by any means necessary, even if she has to trip the other woman and sit on her. "What the shells is goin' /on/ here!!" she bellows, uselessly. "Just--- /stop/!" For once in his life, Szadath is not the aggressor here. He dives towards the queens, only to stop a length away and hover again with another plaintive cry. He stops and starts several times, side-slipping this way and that as he looks for an opening or something-- some return to normalcy, some way back to the rush-chase-catch thrill that he was seeking.
Aldroth is flung backwards by the unexpected force of Elaruth's kick, but manages to somersault out of it, using the momentum to come at the queens once more. /He/ is not going to stop just because of some silly human tangle down below. Unaware of the damage he's done, he reaches once more - they are so close together that he does not discern one from the other, simply who is moving the fastest, catching his predatory eye. Ke'hai turns forcefully, trying to at least get Preita out of Hattie's line of sight. He hasn't a clue where /her/ weyr might be, but the bronzerider starts shoving at her towards the nearest tunnel. His expression is pained and reluctant, aching to join his dragon, but you don't live to be fifty on Pern without knowing a thing or two.
Talons score down Yshtiath's side from Elaruth's using her body as an airborne launch pad, making her bellow again in pain and anger mixed before they're finally separated. The damage done to her wing has taken a lot of the fight out of her however, and a goodly amount of the flight as well, as she does the mid-air equivalent of a drunken stagger, unable to hold a straight course. A plaintive cry is sent to those males still at higher altitudes, the younger gold unable to sustain the wingbeats necessary to try to join them. If she can wrest but one victory out of this, she will, and forcing herself to turn, she rams her way between Elaruth and Aldroth, putting herself in a position to be caught by the bronze -- or to her mind, steal him from her rival. Preita's ineffectual flailing against Taikrin falters, but the insistence in her repetitions of "Let me go!" chances from enraged to a different kind of urgency as her focus abruptly veers away from Hattie and centres on Ke'hai. "Him," the young goldrider pleads of the woman holding her captive. "I need him."
Though clarity doesn't return to Hattie's gaze, she matches the effort of her lifemate and wrenches herself free of Ke'hai's grip, though winds up screaming through gritted teeth and cradling her right arm for her trouble. Staggering, she blinks around her and stumbles the way of the steps to her weyr, scrambling unsteadily up them, a handful of bronze and brownriders flowing after her. And not a moment too soon, given what goes on above in the space between Weyr and Hold. Knocked off-course by Yshtiath, soaring away triumphantly and trailing ichor after her, Elaruth surges strongly up, up, up through the clouds again, close enough to brush past Szadath as she goes... only for her escape to be short-lived as bronze limbs tangle with hers and tails and necks twine tight even as she struggles, leaving her all wrapped-up safely in Mecaith to fall through the skies once more.
Aldroth folds his wings at this opportunity, a desert hawk diving for the final fatal blow - no, the catch, the grasp of Yshtiath to his own body, sweeping past Elaruth as breezily as if she were no more than a wherry. He bugles then, finally loud and brash, only briefly taunting the other males before opening his wings to let the pair drift earthwards. Ke'hai abruptly releases Hattie, his strides aimed either for Taikrin or Preita, it's hard to tell, but his eyes are not one of a rider within his own mind and body.
So confused is Szadath that he throws himself to one side as Elaruth goes past, only to vainly twist after her once she's gone past. But no, it's far too late-- and with another plaintive call he breaks off pursuit and begins to spiral down towards the bowl. Taikrin takes a moment to figure out what's going on, but Ke'hai's determined strides are a pretty solid clue. She pushes herself away from Preita, scrabbling backwards on all fours in her haste to get /away/.
Preita's whimpering in pain as she staggers away from Taikrin, reaching for Ke'hai to fumble the way to her own weyr. Poor little tot, she got an /old guy!/ As if the injuries to Yshtiath weren't going to be traumatic enough. But thankfully, everyone will survive.