Finally... A Flight!

[grapeylaura]

Mavira was having a wonderful day. She had finished doing inventory, which she hated, no one had come bursting through her door with any emergencies, and the sun just seemed so bright. She was sitting cross-legged near the edge of her dragon's weyr, looking down at the people and drinking a cup of klah. She really had to compliment the kitchen staff on this batch-- it was as if she could taste with every sip all the weather the klahbark had been through before it had been stripped and ground.

Having finished the cup, she put it and the empty plate back on the tray and walked back to the kitchens, practically skipping. She smiled brightly at the drudges as she passed, adding her dishes to the pile and putting the tray neatly away. Humming, she ambled along the corridor leading to the outside.

“I've never seen her in this good a mood,” she heard someone say. That stopped her short, and she stood, her eyes narrowing. This was the best mood she'd been in since she'd arrived. Her eyes narrowed some more. Had she been humming? Her heart beat a little faster as the implications of her behavior that day sank in. Resilyth.

As if in answer to her revelation, the amber-gold dragon launched from her perch with an ear-splitting screech, and headed straight for the feeding pens. Her agility landed her a fat buck on the first pass, and she fell upon it, teeth ready to tear. As she moved to eat it, she hit a mental wall.

Mavira was in the weyrbowl, staring her down and forcing all of her considerable willpower into her telepathic bond with the gold. “NO!” she roared, feeling the force of the word and sending it to her dragon. Only blood, she commanded silently, just blood. Resilyth reared her great head back and screeched, wild with a craving for meat, but Mavira won with her mental assault, and the gold bent her head, tearing the beast's neck and draining the blood from it in several sucking gulps.

With the next herdbeast, she tried again to eat, but Mavira forced her with the ferocity of her command to only take blood. A third, and then a fourth went down, and Resilyth simply blooded those two, too wrapped up in her lust to fight anymore. She finished the fourth, and with a bugle, her eyes flashing purple, she launched her agile, delicate frame into the air. Come and get me, I dare you! she challenged the males.

[dragon_myst]

That bugle, Mellith knew that bugle, as did J'don.

"Go get her big boy!" J'don whooped, slapping the flank of his big bronze.

Mellith roared acceptance, running from his weyr ledge and taking a huge leap into the air. The two of them, rider and dragon, had been through plenty of flights back at their old Weyr. The bronze and rider had always poured heart and soul into every flight and yet, the bronze had never once won. When he was young, the bronze lost to more experienced bronzes and as he aged, the bronze lost to younger ones. He was always just not the one the Queen wanted.

J'don never regretted a loss. Being Weyrleader held no real appeal to him. If Mellith did win a Gold, he would accept the duties and do his best for the Weyr as he always did. It was Mellith who wanted to win. The bronze practically ached for a win.

When he dropped onto the first herdbeast with a quick, ruthless snap of his jaws. He drank the blood down greedily, watching the golden form in the air getting farther and farther away from him. He snapped for a second, drank and then snapped for a third.

While he dragon drank, J'don made his way down from his weyr. He didn't know where the Weyrwoman was, but it was definitely better if he was down instead of up. Especially if Mellith could win this one. He could already feel the lust starting to race through him, the hunger for the Gold and the want to fly. He loved it, loved the rush of flight.

Mellith did too. He loved chasing Golds, never chased anything else. When he finished his third herd beast he leapt into the air, wings beating steadily to close the distance between himself and the beautiful, enticing golden form.

You will be mine! he called as he drew ever nearer.

[Tanzanite]

Sebeka was not know to have the most comfortable mode of transportation for those who lacked the wings of a Dragon. The stairs were literally cut into the curve of the Weyr and thank the egg T'iran was so used to heights the act of walking up the stairs that had only the wall for any means of support did not bother him. Scyrth had been twitchy the past few days, such that T'iran left him alone only if he truly needed his Bronze's assistance. The male dragon had been keeping vigilance of the Queen of the Weyr. The moment he began to get irritable and twitchy was the same day he had gorged himself to the point of laboring to get into the air. The Wingleader knew that sign, had watched his Bronze do the same for the Queen of Benden. He was preparing for Resilyth's flight...

In many ways the Rider was pleased but also skeptical. Oh, he wanted Scyrth to win. Scyrth was sure he would win! Though that meeting, the only one since, that T'iran had with the Weyrwoman had him questioning many things. One was that even if he became Weyrleader would she be willing to lead with him? T'iran was very sure of her ability over what was closing in as a half turn here at the Weyr. That did not mean wherry shat if the Weyrwoman was not of him. Above the many others that made him both still want the position but question if it was the right choice for this Weyr and this pair. In the end he was left with only the thought that the end of the flight would show whether he was Weyrleader or not. Step by step his boots touched the stone steps, his eyes were forward while they took in the sight of the looming Bronze. Scyrth's large form looked very amusing and anything beyond regal. His sharp claws dug into the weyr ledge, his head was lowered with chest just an inch from the ground, the broad bronze wings cupped but twitching as if wishing to snap open.

You do know that females tend to find it very creepy if a male is stalking her. Any given time the Bronze would have snapped back a witty reply, the only thing T'iran got in reward was a snarl that caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. Resilyth was very close to rising, clearly by the way the feral look showed in Scyrth's eyes. They swirled shades of bright to dark red. Oh yes, she was close to- A cry that held both Scyrth and T'iran frozen for a split second. The pair merged as one the Rider becoming so full of lust he groaned in pain form such need. Then they split as much as one could say of a Dragon and Rider. T'iran was still feeling the reflected emotions, thoughts, and wants of Scyrth. They were slowly becoming his own. The bugle was replied by Scyrth's deep and lustful trumpet, that call turned into a roar as the Dragon saw another Bronze heading in the direction of the glimmering Queen.

Old fool! Your time has come and gone. Our Queen wants someone younger, and better. Now get out of my way! Another roar, and Scyrth whipped his head around to watch as Resilyth took to the sky. Snapping open his wings that caught the sun's light showing off the slightly darker bronze sails and markings along his body. Kicking off with thundering wing beats the Bronze had no need to blood and was full of reserved energy. Cutting through the air Scyrth was almost upon her the moment the other, older, Bronze was also catching up. T'iran was blinded for a moment of seeing both sky that held a golden form that also blurred over with that of what was the ledge of his weyr. Turning around and shaking his head the Rider straightened and began looking franticly for signs of where the Weyrwoman was. Brown eyes darted about, he almost became consumed with anxiety for not yet finding her. If any of the other Bronzeriders and yes even Browns got to her first it could easily given them more advantage for just being near her!

A second time of looking down the bowl had T'iran spotting the Weyrwoman who had been willing her Queen moments before to only blood. Like Scyrth he did not hesitate a moment longer and was running down the steps onto the bowl and towards the Weyrwoman. In the light of dragon lust she looked so appealing, that the need he had felt in him grow. Yes, yes, he wanted her, oh how he wanted her!

[dragoncharm]

Today, T'ly was restless. From waking up onwards, he'd been filled with a nervous energy that made him fidgety and harried. This morning, waking up next to Iella in the weyr they now shared, he'd not even been able to spare time for the pleasure of lying in bed with his weyrmate, but instead had been compelled to roll out of bed and pace around the weyr until Iella herself had woken up and had to calm him. It hadn't gotten better from there. During breakfast, he'd been too fidgety to eat, instead pushing the food around his plate and hardly eating a full bite, which he knew had worried Iella: T'ly not gulping down as much food as he could hold was like a gold suddenly choosing to defer to a green: Unnatural. At lunchtime, however, he'd been ravenous, devouring his food with barely-restrained ferocity. He couldn't understand it.

Well, and he couldn't help it, either. Today, he just couldn't stay still. The bronzerider had this feeling that there was something he had to do, needed to do, and it was nettling him horribly; he couldn't so much as sit down without springing right back up again to pace or walk into another room and throw himself onto a different chair as if he wouldn't just have to leap up again after a few moments of fidgeting. Anyone who happened to say 'good day' to him got snapped at. At the moment, lying on his stomach on his bed, swinging his legs alternatively up into the air and slamming them on his bed ferociously, T'ly did not know where Iella. Probably got tired of him acting like a tunnelsnake and gone off somewhere. She hadn't been acting totally normal today, either.

T'ly blamed Banksiath. It always happened this way before a Queenflight - well, before the two Queens Banksiath had flown before, one of them a Junior Weyrwoman's dragon and the other a regular goldrider: When they first showed signs of Rising, he got very flirtacious, and extension of his regular suavity. As time progressed, however, and their hide glowed more brightly, he became proddy and reclusive, sleeping and eating and doing little else. More like a wild thing and less like the civilized bronze he usually was. Resilyth must be very close to Rising, for T'ly to be so affected.

The bronzerider glanced over at his dragon now. Previously the bronze had been dozing, but now he stood at the ledge of their weyr, tail twitching fitfully, clawing at the rock below his feet. Agitated. T'ly himself felt jarred, at ill ease, and with a tension growing so vast, it was nearly palpable; the air felt thick with it. "Banksiath..." T'ly spoke up warily, guardedly, feeling his bronze's sudden peak in apprehension. The only reply was a snarl and what felt like an explosion of emotion before the dark bronze vaulted off into the skies. Immediately afterward, there was an earsplitting roar from th eWeyrbowl, and T'ly did not have to look over th eedge of his ledge to know what was happening. The Flight. Resilyth's mating flight. The Weyrleader flight. Oh, Faranth...

The wave of lust that hit him had the small bronzerider moaning out loud, practically falling to his knees with the force of it. BBanksiath, no! he cried desperately: He didn't want this, didn't want it to happen, didn't want to lose himself in lust, because if he did, he would want the same thing Banksiath wanted: To win. And T'ly did not want to win! Don't! Banksiath's roar filled the skies at his rider's defiance. I will Chase! You will help me, T'ly, you WILL support me! Of course he spoke only to his rider: to admit the disagreement between them to the other Chasers would be shameful. The bronze forced himself, all his need, all his lust for Resilyth, onto his rider, and T'ly nearly cried out with it.

Banksiath flew to th efeeding pens, to settle down beside the Queen and quickly kill and blood his own prey. Scornfully, he glanced at Scyrth, who was self-absorbed enough to not take the opportunity to blood. True, Banksiath had been sleeping and eating these past days, doing little but preparing for the Flight, but he was not so arrogant as to forgo the chance for extra energy. As for the other bronze, who was blooding his kill a little away, he was ten times Resilyth's age, five times Banksiath's own - old. Fool of a dragon, to think he could compete with Banksiath, young, strone, and loyal! The bronze had won greens before, in his five and a half Turns of living, but never yet a Queen: This time, he would win! Resilyth was younger, beautiful, deserving of someone also young and strong. But he was, for the first time, more experienced than theQueen he was flying. He would win!

T'ly felt it all: The lust, the determination, the scorn for the other bronzes, even the feel of hot liquid running down his throat, giving him strength. Already he was losing himself in the heat of it all, in the terrible and immediate need to find the Weyrwoman. As Banksiath wanted Resilyth, T'ly wanted Mavira, in a physical, lustful way he had never felt before, even on the other Queenflights, even for Iella. The diminutive rider found himself unable to resist the urge that sent him to the ledge, leaning over until he could see Mavira's stout frame in the Weyrbowl below, and then stumbling as fast as he could down the stone steps, so that it was a miracle that he did not fall off of them. Normally, he loved Flights, loved th erush of lust and the feeling of utter intimacy with his bronze, the feeling of true flight that simply riding on a dragon's back could not give you. Not today,. Those times he had been completely willing, ready to merge his mind with Banksiath's and let the Flighttake him. Today, that was the last thing he wanted, and he hated the feeling of being made to seek out Mavira against his will - no, worse:That his own feelings were twisted, manipulated, until he was fighting with himself, between his blinding urge and lust and his conviction that this was not right.

T'ly was nearly down the stairs, parallel to T'iran on another flight of steps, when Resilyth took to the air. At once, Banksiath launched himself after her golden figure, bugling his promise to her: Exquisite Resilyth! Queen of the Weyr, golden sun of the skies! I, Banksiath, will prove myself the most virtuous of all your Chasers!

T'ly reached the Weyrbowl. Mavira was right there, right in front of him, looking at that moment the most attractive, alluring woman he had ever seen. He wanted her so badly - but no! She was th elast thing he wanted! Not because she wasn't worthy, but because - because T'ly didn't want to be Weyrleader! No! He wanted to touch her, to press himself against her and make her his - His hands balled into fists and he closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to resist. J'don was old and experienced; he'd know how to be Weyrleader. T'iran obviously wanted the position, so let him have it. T'ly wouldn't do this, he wouldn't - T'ly, fly with me! Banksiath insisted with the mental force of a battering ram.FLY WITH ME! I cannot do this without you!

I don't want this, T'ly thought desperately.

This isn't about you! This is about me!

It is too about me! If you win you get a mate, sure and well. I have to be Weyrleader! All other Flights I've supported you in, because they were about you! This is about me!

Then it is about both of us, for I cannot do it without you! You must help me! This time the insistance was accompanied by a vocal roar that had T'ly nearly falling over from its mental counterpart. Another wave of lust hit him, and he found his eyes, glazed with lust, open and fixed on Mavira. She was...beautiful...he wanted her so much... Wanted to win whatever it took..He could feel his argument slipping, could hardly remember why he would want anything but to win. And then he tooki a moment to think ahead: If he resisted hard enough, Banksiath would be forced to give up the Chase, which would only make his bronze companions look down on him, and he would be bitter towards T'ly besides. If Banskiath did not drop out, he still would not win, not without T'ly's compliance. If T'ly submitted....he might be become Weyrleader. He might not. But he and Banksiath would be together either way...and his thoughts were becoming tangled and disjointed, leaving only the last thought that he would also be able to give himself over to his dragon's instincts, and enjoy it while he could, rather than spend all his energy resisting.

The choice was clear. There had never really been a choice to begin with, not when the only other option had been to let his Lifemate down. All right, Banksiath, the young bronzerider finally agreed, letting down his walls. You have me. At that poibnt, the bronze surged forward to become level with Scyrth, a burst of energy running through them both at the dragon's triumph. Then we fly.

[Cryptic]

H'den stretched lazily, a sheet of paper resting on a slate. He and Seimonth had arrived the day before and the pair had found themselves at loose ends this morning. The bronze rider could feel the tension in the air, and in the dragons. There would be a flight today, but would it be the Queen, or one of the greens?

he was turning his attention back to the ship blueprints he was working on when all hell broke loose. The flight was on, and it was the Queen. H'den frowned, wondering why he was blanking on her name and that of her rider.

From above Seimonth let out a bellow, adding his voice to those of he other males. Like an eagle Mo struck a herd beast and locked his jaws around it's neck, slurping noisily. A second one followed and then he was off, jockeying for position among the other males. Mo used his bulk to shove and beat back the others, flying silent for the time being, saving his breath for when it would be needed.

[grapeylaura]

Mavira was drowning, drowning in the wingbeats of her dragon and the sensation of being two places at once. She could sense the bronzeriders gathering around her, but just barely, for her dragon was slowly seeping into her, replacing her essence with a raging storm of dragonlust. She knew if she fought it, it would jar her dragon's focus, so she didn't, she rode it like a dragon rode air pockets and wind currents, soaring with the gold as she dared the males to catch her. She felt her nerves come alive with the tingling of desire, felt the men around her who wanted her so badly, practically fed off the need pouring from the bronzerider's minds, echoed so strongly from their dragons and through hers.

Resilyth flew up and up, not bothering with any tricks just yet. She had felt it as each of the bronzes joined the flight, felt their bodies and their minds chasing after her, and it exhilarated her. She heard their comments, replying with skeptical tones. Yours? Prove it then, old one! she said to Mellith. He was working hard to prove it, too, it seemed, for she realized they were all about level with each other, and she was impressed that a bronze of his age had been first to fly, and could keep up so well.

Banksiath's praise buoyed her, and she flew higher still, replying, What are you waiting for, then? Catch me! Sensing an opportunity, she swooped down for a few meters only to catch a warm air current and rise rapidly, turning diagonally and up from the trajectory she had been on a moment before. It was time to see how agile they were in the air!

On the ground, Mavira smirked in the general direction of the bronzeriders with each of her dragon's comments. She was her dragon now, sharing her every thought and emotion, reveling in the sensation of flying and the knowledge that so many yearned for her. Her eyes were open, turned skyward, but they were blind, for she saw now only through Resilyth's eyes.

[dragon_myst]

On the ground, J'don felt his dragon's annoyance. He was deeply familiar with it. Ignore them, Mel, just fly. You aren't old, not yet anyway. Let them think it, let them underestimate you. Just fly, friend, just fly.

He felt Mellith settle a bit and refocus. The bronzerider smiled to himself, urging his dragon on with support. He wouldn't join up just yet. Mellith had plenty of strength on his own right now. He would come in if the bronze started to flag behind.

Right now, he took a position near the Queenrider, ready to intervene if any of the young riders lost control of themselves. He had seen a few green flights get out of hand. He wasn't about to let that happen here.

Even though he was the oldest dragon in the flight, Mellith was no weakling. He drilled obsessively with his rider and the pair were more than fit. He also had experience, having been through many flights. He knew how Queens acted, though each was unique. Though he had doubted himself for a moment, the words from his rider had bolstered him.

I am more than willing to prove it and more to you. Mellith replied, roaring his challenge to the other bronzes. If they wanted to win and thought him weak or less than them, he would prove them wrong. He didn't just chase with brawn, but with brains.

He found the warm current the Queen had caught and cupped his wings to carry himself up so he wouldn't have to waste energy on the rise, his wing beats smooth and powerful strokes. A slight tilt of one wing and he turned, banking to follow her change in course. He knew how to fly and fly well.

[Tanzanite]

The wind rushed by as it caressed the Bronze's hide, it's cool touch welcoming to the quickening in his hot blood. The sun warmed Scyrth in a way that seemed to energize him instead of smother him, this was the perfect time of day for thermals and currents. As such the Bronze pulled his focus from the glowing Queen in front of him. An act that was not as easy as it sounded, he did not want to lose sight of her. The thought alone made him tense up, no he would not lose sight of her or she in general. Knowing full well that most of the flight would be much growling, pushing, shoving, and all the while the Queen would pull whatever trick it was she wished to pull.

Every one assumed that Greens were lusty and flirtatious, if only they truly realized how they thought that of the wrong female. Queens were the ones who held the title as they did everything else, the Bronzes of the Weyr where hers. She could toy with them as much as she wished during her flight and the Bronzes would love her. Oh how even if she looked his way Scyrth would have trumpeted with joy as if honored by that mere glance. A whine mixed with a growl stopped just before leaving his mouth, Scyrth twisted his body looking as if he was going to pull out. Instead he had not only seen the current that looked like a very wisp of something actually moving in the air but he had noticed many thermals. He personally was not going to waste his “breath” on bickering. Tilting his wings before giving one mighty stroke propelled him to the thermal, his wings stretched and sails filling with air that sent him shooting upwards. Seeing the group feet under him Scyrth whipped his head forward to find that current.

As he did the Queen wheeled and dove into the current before shooting once more many dragon lengths in front of the group. Having used some of his energy to gain this height with the others the Bronze twisted and dove, the momentum of his weight sent him cascading down towards the other males. Twisting again into a cork screw dive and catching the current sent him shooting forward, little energy wasted. It was worth it to be back up close to the Queen and did he spy not a moment before he caught the current a flash of Bronze? Lips raising as he gave a draconic sneer, good, he was wanted to be ahead. Or at least keeping up with them without putting much effort. Not yet, not yet.

Below and oh so far away as the group of Dragons left the Weyr behind in their wake stood a tensed Bronzerider. His brown eyes were glazing over, slowly, but they were showing more and more that T'iran was close to joining his Bronze. Queen's had the strongest will, Bronzes came second. Mavira had had to put her strength and will into the flight from the very moment Resilyth decided to make a kill. T'iran did not need to, and he wasn't alone in holding back. J'don the older Bronzerider was still very much himself if a bit distracted by his Dragon's emotion. Chest rising and falling, T'iran knew Scyrth would call on him, till then he would have to hold back. Tall he might be, strong he might be, and even physically in the best shape possible the Rider was not a dimglow to try and challenge J'don. Not here and not now, anyways. It would brake his focus and it could be the utter downfall to Scyrth's attempts. Brown eyes shifted ever so slowly from the other Rider and from what he felt was more coming back to Mavira.

[Cryptic]

H'den let himself go, let Seimonth's personality wash over him like a breaker. But he wouldn't drown. The two of them where like a fish and the sea, part of one another. The reactions to the joining where noticeable; H'den's eyes dilated, and something like the mix of a charming smile and a smirk tugged his lips up. Seimonth's wings faltered for a beat and then renewed with greater power as he went from one mind guiding his body to the melding of two.

Seek the currents they thought, feeling the play of the air over their hide, the tug of it on their sails. Mmm the old timer had found a swift one that was driving him up and ahead.... and then very far ahead. The pair gave a mental nod, he was not one to underestimate; his age translated to skill that compensated for the slowing of his body.

There... there was the right current. A slight side slips and the warmer air sent the bronze striped dragon rising into the air with little effort. He wasn't much higher then the others, only a dragon's length or so, but it put him outside the pack, and when the time came height would equal speed in the decent.

H'den let out as soft gasp as he surfaced within the bond. They where still linked but not as strongly as a moment ago. mo knew his partner had his own flight to win. Getting to his feet the ex-sailor headed for the gathered knot of bronze riders

[dragoncharm]

Flying up after the Queen, Banksiath took little notice of the other bronzes, except to note who they were and where they were. He could fight as well as the next bronze, but that wasn't his aim, not today For this Flight, he would focus on following Resilyth, not waste his energies in fighting. He'd let the other dragons push each other around while he stayed on Resilyth's tail, if it came to that. When the slightly-larger Seimonth jostled him, Banksiath hissed warningly, drifting away from the younger bronze and speeding up.

He did not reply to Resilyth's teasing response, not now; True, Banksiath was a dragon who expressed himself with words, but for now he would hold his breath and instead focus on the best way to win this flight. He was a thinker, and he trusted his wits as much as his wings to hold him aloft for this Chase - unlike some dragons, he thought pointedly, who seemed content to use brawn alone. Refocusing on the queen - don't waste time on that - he saw that she had caught herself in a thermal. Clever; it was a warm, sunny day, and there would be plenty of air currents to help them fly. Using wings alone to fly upward was difficult, but taking a ride on a thermal wasn't.

Instead of catching the same current Resilyth had used, which would have him jostling for position among the other bronzes who chose that one, Banksiath banked slightly on one wing and turned so as to go in the same direction as Resilyth had chosen, and found a thermal of his own, a shimmering current of air that billowed under his cupped wings and lifted him upward, rocketing him into the same level Resilyth had made. A glance upward showed both Seimonth and Scyrth lifting even farther upward on his own currents, the former staying in position for the moment and the latter dove, only to be carried forward by another current. Smart; Banksiath filed that move in his memory. In no way was he above learning from the other Chasers - that was the whole point!

Hold your own, T'ly, you have your own trial to win, the bronze's voice broke into the haze of flight and lust that T'ly had descended into. Knowing his dragon was right, T'ly forced himself upward, out of the lust for now, connected with Banksiath but not giving his all to him. It took the bronze's words to remember, to see that the others were not wholly given in; trust Banksiath, even in the middle of the flight, to notice that. The bronzerider would save the bulk of his energy for later, when Banksiath really needed it, as they had learned was best over the Turns. Right now...

Right now, he looked at the other males. J'don, he saw with a curl of his lip, had moved close to Mavira, looking like a bodyguard to her. As if he'd labeled himself her protecting. As if she needed protecting! Narrowing his eyes in disdain, T'ly fought the urge to lash out at the other man with all the primal urges of his bronze. "She doesn't need protecting, J'don," he pointed out in a low voice. "She can make her own choices." Mavira needed nobody to protect her, and it wasn't like anything they did wouldn't be what she wanted. If she didn't want it, she was perfectly capable of protecting herself...J'don just wanted to be closer to her, more likely, or was actually arrogant enough to think that the lust wouldn't effect him, too.