alyflight8.html

The Usual Debauchery
In which Lis is proddy and mean, people make out at her flights, and there's some interesting sleeping arrangments at the end - all par for the course.

Wings tired? Or you just want to feel solid earth beneath your paws...

Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is a spring before dawn. A gentle, warm breeze has picked up. Combined with the soft glow of pre-dawn light this promises a pleasant spring day ahead. A haze of mist rises from the ground.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are thirteen firelizards.
Green Yshanth, bronze Rixesith, green Zaqith, and green Miravith are here.
You see a wagonmaster, Cattysaur, Box, Dustina, and Wagon Two here.
You notice Ryern asleep here.
Obvious exits:
Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ

Above, Trydanth heads in from above the lake.
Above, Trydanth drops down towards the Bowl.
Trydanth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Lis sulks atop her lifemate, rocking back in the straps and generally refusing to get off. No words are exchanged, but to judge from various exasperated sounds, the greenrider's having an violent mental exchange with her lifemate.

Alymath senses that Lis huffs childishly in protest, unmoving and stubborn. << I'm not getting off. Take me back to my weyr right /now/. >>

Alymath snorts un-ladylike, and shakes her back as if to throw Lis off. Pesky lifemates. /Really/! Green wings curl on her back stubbornly, and the dragon doesn't move an inch.

Alymath thinks to you, <>

Trydanth, having landed only seconds before, regards the scene with something akin to amusement whirling in his large eyes. Wings settle with an electric snap and the blue crouches down in the dust of the bowl.

Lis lets out an ear-peircing squeal as she clings to Alymath's straps for dear life, delivering a heartfelt whack to the green's hide once she's got her balance back. "Wench!" screams the greenrider, glowering at Trydanth as he lands. D'renn had better not be anywhere near...

Alymath senses that Lis' voice goes cool and frosty as she grits out, << Fine. But I'm not getting down until you're back on my ledge. >> A hint of primeval growling accompanies her words, along with a blue streak of muttered swears. <<

Alymath bugles in protest, the husky sound ringing into the crisp air and disturbing the fine mist. Trydanth is hissed at, despite her pleasant acting only moments before, and head turns to watch Lis with a slightly orange-glowing gaze, fangs slightly baring as she hisses again.

You sense Alymath's mindvoice grows equally cool, with just a touch of that childish stubborness. <>

Undaunted by the hissing, Trydanth crouches a bit lower, neck held at a careful curve to regard the green in a faintly propriatory fashion. He was here first. Let it be known.

Alymath senses that Lis' sneer is apparent in her dry voice as she quips, <> Which is probably why she's mouthing off - she's invincible.

Alymath makes a loud, ear-piercing sound of protest and, without caring what Lis decides to do, scampers Trydanth-wards.

Lis sticks her tounge out at the fangs brazenly, arms crossing over her black-leathered chest and sneering back at her lifemate. Her chin lifts defiantly for a moment before she groans and cringes, the sound from Alymath dulling her hearing and rattling her senses as she's thrown against a neckridge in the scamper towards Trydanth.

Above, Sakuruth glides in from the north.
Above, Sakuruth drops down towards the Bowl.
Sakuruth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Alymath thinks to you, <> Coy tone is barely concealed by her would-be modesty, neck coiling invitingly towards the blue. to him. >>

Lis is still sitting atop Alymath, sulking in one of her black proddy moods. It's all fun and games until someone turns into a crabby wench. Grudgingly, she's bothered to acknowledge Sakuruth's landing with yet another variation on the seriously PO'd 'Humph': "Hrrrmph."

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara is seriously perky, even for her. We're talking that valley-girl, 'ohmigod' kind of bounciness that is completely irritating in most people. And yet she (mostly) pulls it off. "Lissie! Lissie, you'll /never/ guess what happened! Not in a bajillion Turns!" Run and hide. And take the wine with you.

Trydanth , the itch-destroyer, rises lithely from his crouch and paces gravely towards the green. Her neck is carefully inspected with whirling eyes, and the blue nibbles cautiously, heedless of the unfortunate Lis still atop Alymath.

Alymath /croons/ and threatens to literally throw Lis off her back as she crouches, then stretches, graceful like a feline. Head is curled further, allowing Trydanth to nibble more, though Sakuruth gets a flicker of tail as well. Mustn't ignore the lovely blues.

Lis manages to wiggle far enough to one side not to be crushed by some part of Trydanth, half-hanging off of Alymath's neck like a black-leatherd bauble that dangles with the fractious green's movements. "What, someone replaced your brain with Ditzee's?" snaps the greenrider with nary a care to other people's feelings - so she suffers, so must they all.

Sakuruth flicks his tail right back, although he's largely ignoring Aly for the moment, given the excitement he understandably shares with his rider. Heck, he practically looks smug.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara chortles, a trill of laughter carrying on the breeze. "No, no better than that. I got promoted! See the knot?" It's all big and shiny and gold-ish. With tassels. Smirk. "What's with... Oh. When d'ya think she'll go up?" she asks, realization of a /very/ proddy(and very close!) Alymath sinking in. Took her a while.

Above, Soquilith sneaks in from the dusty pens.
Above, Soquilith drops down towards the Bowl.
Soquilith drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

All the more for Trydanth, since Sakuruth is otherwise occupied. Sidling up closer to Alymath, he slides his electric tail casually 'round the green as he works to vanquish her itch.

Lis wobbles precariously as her hands tire, glaring upside-down at Quara. "Oh, /congratulations/. Who did you sleep with to get it?" Caustic words bubble from the greenrider's throat in a lazy drawl, her expression freezing as the bluerider makes a mention of proddiness and flights. "Not soon enough, Quara, not soon enough." Soquilith is glared at merely for being male - not to mention his rider. Fear, R'ave, fear.

Above, Kamath drops down towards the Bowl.
Kamath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Alymath crooons and wraps her tail around Trydanth's. though, that leaves a dilemma as that hunky, young bronze comes along... hrm. What's a glowing green girl to do now? Ahh! Another caressing croon goes out, this one towards Soquilith. Croon. Off, evil Lis! Butt waggles forcefully as she bucks, much like a wild runner, apparently in order to rattle Lis' brains - and body.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara giggles again. "That's the best part! I didn't sleep with /anyone/. Well, I mean, not anyone that would have influenced E'ren. He /is/ weyrmated, y'know." QuaraLogic. Yet another thing to fear. "Y'know, if you'd get down, you wouldn't get knocked around when Aly moves." And speaking of dismounting, it's time to do that, since Saku is showing a more than passing interest in Aly now. Look out, Trydanth! And... finger-wiggle. "R'ave! Hullo!" Someone needs a dose of cold water.

Quara slithers down Sakuruth's neck and side, avoiding one indigo wing.

From 'tween the rifted foil-crests of Soquilith's 'ridges, R'ave is recovering from being airborne -- and glowing, as well. He's no Alymath, and he's not proddy, but he certainly is radiating waves of contentment. "Afternoon," he calls gaily, blind to Lis' glare. Soquilith is not giddy, however, and a quiet snort softened with a faint whuff is directed back toward Alymath, supple tail simply coiling and vascillating at his side. "Hey Quara..." The pink-tinted minibronzer beams as he takes a hint from his lifemate, and hustles down his shoulder.

The great barrow of Soquilith's upper body shifts, stable legs no hindrance to R'ave's otherwise risky dismount.

Down you go! Just mind the sharp dragon-elbow, there.

Trydanth, who's rider is conspiciously missing, directs a possessive glare towards both Sakuruth and Soquilith, aimed just high enough to pass over Alymath's neck. In spite of the other males, he continues to minister to the green's itch, working his teeth gently up and down her neck.

R'ave
In currents of goldenrod and tawny, twisted with a tracery of flaxen and ridden with darker sienna, his hair now streams in tiers of blonde past his shoulders, cheek-licking bangs parted o'er his slim, dark skybroom brow. Damson and lavender tarry with kinetic motes of cyan, lackluster amethyst cut through with tinges of pale beryl -- his eyes flaunt themselves in wide breadths, moved into fulsome angles in a face etched with slender, alabaster features. A mouth curled constantly --hued with muted rose-- is prone to deadpan sobriety. His wiry body's muscled contours taper from squared shoulders, the allusion of spindly thinness is carried yet, but sinew spreads from chest to slim belly, from arms to thighs, legs rangy look still portrayed, though his height is ever-spare.
Uniform-geared: a royal blue shirt of no-nonsense fabric clings warmly to his arms and torso, navy collar a trendily folded v-contour. Long sleeves end in neat cuffs at his wrists, and as neat is the doubling of the hem over a suede-black belt. Cotton pants are uncomplicated and constrictive, taut from where they cling to his hips to his very upper thighs, where excessed of denim-like material spreads outward. The faded gloss of black boots are now scarred and dusty, and the loose creases of slightly overlong pants gathering 'round the worn heels. Coated for winter's harshest weather, his ignoble, chunky pink pea-coat clashes with his uniform, as do his winterized team of accessories: electric pink earmuffs, llama-wool socks, gloves, and a frilly-ended scarf.
A rejuvanated knot, now the minibronzer's rank is Senior Weyrling; dual twisted cords twine; an ebon length coiled with another strand of navy, forming a single loop. There within spirals a ribbon of red-veiled bronze, though streaks of faded material hint at silver.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.
R'ave is 18 Turns, 4 months, and 2 days old.

Lis half-falls, half dismounts from Alymath - but at any rate, she ends up on the ground and none the better for it. "Stupid beast! Trying to sharding near kill me, all so you can slut around with the males. Wench." Giving up on her lifemate, she stalks away in a Quara-ly direction, short legs pumping as she stomps at mushy bowl mud. "You know, Quara, if you'd keep your mouth shut, maybe you could fool people into thinking you're not as dumb as you look." Rowr. R'ave gets a long stare as if she just realized he's wearing pink. "What kind of bronzerider /are/ you. Pink?"

From the southeast, a loud splash is held. A few moments later, the head of another bronze comes into view. He trumpets, announcing himself to the other dragons as Kamath. He is a big dragon and he seemes to lumber as he moves, his tail swishing back and forth. He looks up at the other bronze expectantly.

<Local> Alymath senses that she's mindvoice stretches languidly, teasingly entering the edges of the minds of all the present males. <> Her husky voice takes on it a frail, begging purr.

Quara snickers at Lis' lovely dismount. But quietly. "Lissie, dear, she's only imitating you." Ouch. "Besides, I can't be as much of a dimglow as you say, or they wouldn't've promoted me." Smirk. She's got more rank than Li-is. And Pyrene, for that matter. Muahaha. "Oh, dear. Pink is /not/ a good look on you. Then again, it's not a good look on anyone," she reflects. And then her habits come through and she holds up her ever-present friend. "Wine, Lissie?"

R'ave raises a brow toward Lis, mouth pursing for a moment. "Anyone ever tell you how charming you are, Lis?" She's got all the beguiling tactics of a horned toad. However, a smile is presented -- albeit strained. "Forgive me Lis, for not being /exactly/ the predictable /standard/ of -my- dragon's color." Beam. Quara is safer, even if she's just as bad. "I like pink." Duh.

Lis can only sneer back at Quara's insult before she perks - albeit barely - at the mention of alcohol. "How about brandy?" she half-growls, arms tucking themselves securely around her torso with another grumpy huff. At R'ave's backtalk, she tries to peer down at the weyrlings, finding herself too short and settling on an abusive string of words. "Don't give me lip, you little snot. You're not fit to lick my boot." Hah.

<Local> Alymath senses that Soquilith broods, a swell of smoke muddling his slurred minddrawl. << Where do you -need- it, Alymath? >> His voice carries a dark, blunt simper.

Quara lifts an eyebrow dubiously at R'ave. "You. Like. /Pink/." Uh-oh. "R'ave, my dear, pink is not a masculine color. You are male, or so I assume from Loren's eagerness to go to your weyr," Schwing! "and you ride a male dragon. Pink is for small children of the female variety." Like her baby. But Quara-spawn will never be found in pink. And then she thrusts her bottle at Lis. "Here. Drink. S'good Benden red." And strong, too. Just what Lis needs.

Trydanth raises his head, distracted from his comforting nibbles by the onslaught of males. Whiplash tail slinks further around the green's side before he hunkers back down to do some more itching.

A few moments after the emergence of the bronze, a man, seemingly in his late twenties or early thirties walks in from the lakeside. He's a tall man, sturdily built with black hair and grey eyes. You notice he is wearing Benden colors. He looks at his dragon for a moment before bowing to the 'Reaches riders "Good Morning to you," he smiles "I'm S'dan" he bows.

"Be assured Lis, your boot would be the only on you I -would- lick," R'ave purrs in return, hands hooked in his pockets. This is a pretty familar scenario. He's at ease with this. "I'm comfortable with my masculinity, Quara, what can I say? Colors are only colors -- it's daft to assign them genders." His head tilts in a lazy incline toward the entering rider. "Mornin'." Introductions? Whassat?

Above, Orbyth arrives from ::between:: in an explosion of burning energy.
Above, Orbyth drops down towards the Bowl.
Orbyth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Alymath suddenly goes taut. And then, *bam*, she goes rigid, /hissing/ at all males within reach. Back off, back off, back /off/! Eyes roll a violent orange and, without any care for her lifemate or various other species, the green heads off towards the pens.

Alymath saunters with lanky grace, a hint of gold flashing in her steps, to the Pens.

Sakuruth walks, albeit a bit awkwardly, to the Pens.

Zi'n uses a coppery-tinged shoulder to slide to the ground, aided by an impatient flicker.

"Smart-mouthed snot, too. Will wonders never cease," Lis quips dryly at R'ave, deliberately turning away to spot yet another man coming towards them. "Benden, eh? You're a long way from home, S'dan..." It's as close to a pick-up line as she going to get at the moment. Without tearing her eyes from the elder bronzerider, she neatly grabs Quara's bottle and brings it to her lips, taking a swig that empties a good quarter of it. These are the things she learns from D'renn.

Kamath stretches his mouth open into a yawn. Do dragons yawn? He smiles at his hosts and stretches himself out in the bowl lazily. He comes to a slow alert at the green begins hissing at him. This will definately be an eventful day.

Trydanth shuffles to the Pens.

From afar, Lis nods you'll want to addcom wm=WhyMe?! for the flight channel.
Above, Nylanth takes off from Nylanth's ledge.
Above, Nylanth drops down towards the Bowl.
Nylanth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
G'deon slides from Nylanth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Kamath looks after the green and, with an impish smile to his rider, follows her out towards the pens.

Alymath> Kamath emerges from the bowl with a grin.

S'nug walks in.

Orbyth catches sight of the green heading for the pens, and the bronze is after her like a rocket. Sun streaks off Orbyth's hide as the big dragon streaks after Alymath.
Orbyth moves with endless energy to the Pens.

G'deon reaches up to loosen Nylanth's riding straps a bit more, then pats the bronze's neck affectionately. "There you go," he says quietly.

Foofth glides to the Pens.

Quara chuckles at R'ave. "Well, I suppose it's up to you," she replies, shrugging, before waggling her fingers perkily at S'dan. "Hello there," she purrs, sidling over. "I'm Quara. The one in black is Lis, and Pinky over there is R'ave." She can be a nice hostess when she wants to. "And is that... it is! Gid! How nice to see you!" Eyelashes a-flutter, she's sizing up every male within sight.

R'ave seems to be at the pinnacle of a silent struggle with Soquilith, eye narrowed toward the bronze who's swimming, shambling movements are shuffling him nearer and nearer to the pens. "I wouldn't call it a wonder. S'just how I am." Puppified eyes flicker down at the greenrider. "Yes, I know, Soq, I can see Nylanth... go." Sigh. Pinky wiggles a hand carelessly toward whomever he's being introduced to. "Hey, Gid," he mumbles sullenly. There goes the good mood.

And out into the bowl comes S'nug, Foofth, his lifemate, all ready lilting off to the pens for a little bit of cuddly, happy heardbeast killing. Can't they all just get along? "Hi, Lis. And others," carols the bluerider, coming out into the bowl.

Alymath> Kamath moves to one side of the pen, watching the green intently and occasionaly herding a herdbeast her way to be bled. He smiles at her flirtlingly as he pounces on one of the bests himself.

Soquilith caracoles indolently to the Pens.

G'deon arches an eyebrow slightly as he glances at Quara, a quick nod given in return to her rather enthusiastic greeting. Then an amused questioning glance is given to R'ave as he starts to walk over to the group. "Hello Quara, Lis, R'ave..."

Alymath> Oh. Sillies. Feeding and blood-letting. It's all so nasty, when you really think about it. Be cuddly and loving like Foofth! See? Let's follow along. Step. Step. Step. Thud. Thud. See how the dainty little claws approach so gently, as not to scare the beast, but to soothe it. And then see how caring like his muzzle goes in and fells it. And yes, no blood should appear around the muzzle, for that is quite crude.

Quara is allowed to be perky. She has rank, and Lis is getting drunk. It's a wonderful life. Now all she needs is a guardian angel called Clarence, 'cause Sakuruth is chasing Aly. "R'ave? What's wrong, dearie? Want some wine?" Wine solves all problems. This is a fact. "Hey there, good looking!" It's another bluerider. Whee!

Nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it around... and Lis' is going from black depression and sulkiness to something a little closer to evil. Now that Aly's in the pens, all will be good. "Oh, look, it's a regular /party/," she half-coos, half-purrs, all of definately dangerous and falseley cheerful. No one gets individual greetings, but words of "Hello there" or "Nice behind" are passed out in between long drags from the bottle.

Yukimiko steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

R'ave hunches his shoulders a bit, gazing stoilidly after Soquilith. "He's only going to -watch-." The PMS Prince also happens to be the King of Denial. Ignoring his situation, he fiddles eloquently with the collar of his jacket, mouth pulled into a slight, worried frown. "Wine.. wine sounds good, really," he mumbles at Quara, moving on to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve. He refuses to leer at Lis. Well -- except for whenever he looks up.

Kamath glides to the Pens.

"Some of the wine get passed this way?" asks S'nug cutely, sliding up and over towards Quara. After all, fellow blueriders need to stick together. Bed together. So on. There's an affectionate leer for both the woman of the hour and Quara, but Quara is sought after more, since she's willing to share the wine.

Alymath> Orbyth wastes no time in selecting his prey, using his speed advantage to chase the creature down and grab it in his claws. Neck then arches down so that the bronze can bite the herdbeast at the neck, Orbyth drinking the blood thirstily.

Alymath> Sakuruth isn't quite as perky as his lifemate, but he is rather more bouncy than usual. Moments after entering the pens, he springs onto a herdbeast, snapping its neck, and then drinking the blood, downing it like watered wine. And now he's ready to fly. The ground's for losers, Aly, and baby he was born to fly!

Alymath> Kamath bloods one more herdbeast, never taking his eyes from Alymath. He sends another beast her way and raises his head in another trumpet.

Zi'n barely manages to dismoutn from Orbyth's neck before the dragon proceeds into the pens, leaving his rider quite bewildered. "Um.... hi? What's h..." Ohh. Oh! Eek! "She's proddy? Is she proddy? She isn't, is she?" Whimper. Bye-bye peaceful day. The Istan 'lingleader looks quite despaired, glancing from 'rider to 'rider, trying to deem who's the most dangerous of them all; the /green/rider.

Nylanth seems to be quite content for the moment to stay near his rider, though curious eyes are turned frequently to the Pens as odd sounds reach him. G'deon also doesn't seem to be all that keen on seeing what's going on. He just sort of lounges where he is, an odd smile on his face as he nods to people as they pass by, though he /does/ seem to be listening rather acutely.

Alymath> Trydanth slinks his static form into the pens, each movement slick and seemingly careless. One beast is snagged with a simple outstretched paw and drawn to his waiting jaws.

Yukimiko flitters idly out of the caves, looks around with a questioning chirp, and hovers near G'deon, seeming to request a nice shoulder space. One that isn't occupied of course. Chiiiirp?

Alymath> Soquilith, silent, swings as he moves, his bulk handled delicately as he moves 'round the outside of the pens, lurking head held at a slight angle. He spills no blood, even now -- perhaps he isn't shrewd, but nothing's going to die at his claws.

Quara might not be proddy, but that doesn't mean she can't incite any acts that /someone/ is going to regret. So she links one arm through Lis' and leads the entire motley crew to the ground weyrs. "Party time, people! Bring that wine, Lissie," she directs. "Right this way!" They're gonna have fun!

Quara abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.
S'nug abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.

From G'deon's shoulder, Selig chirps inquisitively at Yukimiko

"My, my, my," coos Lis as she spots and hears the Istan bronzer gibbering. "Observant, are we? And since when to Istans let /boys/ chase?" Nevermind that Zi'n seems to be about her age. "See you later, boy-o. Come along, if you're man enough." And thus she's dragged off.

Open sky is exchanged for protecting stone.

Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened in aeons past by who-knows-what to provide shelter for injured dragons and their mates. Craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, sloping back from the weather-open entrance to a low opening into the infirmary itself. Stacked under rock-shaded cover are low supply chests of sturdy timber, flanked with long tables. Other openings are shaded by wherhide curtains, leading to smaller, private caverns for the dragonhealers' patients.
It is a spring midmorning. As Rukbat climbs higher in the sky, the warmth causes the mist to thicken into a blanket of fog. The fog feels like a cool mist against your skin if you venture out into this morning, and the sunlight makes some patches of it glow with an almost unbearable brightness.
Settled on rough-hewn ledge is Bow-Wow.
You see Generic Egg Pot here.
You notice Tabiron asleep here.
Quara and S'nug are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Inner Ground Weyr Infirmary

Central Bowl> R'ave simply utters a discontented sigh. He's only following to patronize Soquilith.

R'ave comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
Zi'n comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Lis stomps about the groundweyrs like she owns the place, scouting out the best spot. With that winebottle still swinging agressively from her fingers, the greenrider drags a fur over to a lone chair and plops down into it. "Alright, you lot, you all stay out of arm's reach. Any funny business, and I leave you wondering what gender you are." And no one really wants to call her bluff, do they?

S'nug hath decided that he does indeed not want to try Lis' patience, and instead keeps close to Quara, stage-whispering to her, half teasing, half suggestively: "You don't mind us staying in arm's length and doing funny business, do you?"

Alymath> Alymath latches violently onto a herdbeast, quickly ripping it out of its safe pen before proceeding to rip open its throat, burying her frosted muzzle in the hot pool of blood. Talons continue to rip at the squirming beast's stomach, spilling the intestines on the ground, though some inner mental voice denies her eating them. A bugle sounds in protest, and then blood is drunk, hungrily, greedily.

Zi'n just kinda slinks into a corner, looking at Lis with no less than fright in his expression. Fright, and some sort of masochistic curiosity - not that he doesn't know his /gender/, but the ways the greenrider could discover.... uh-huh.

Quara giggles at S'nug. "Oh, not at all. But she's only joking," one bluerider informs the other. A kiss is blown at Lis, along with a wink. "Still, I'd be glad to play." Purr. It has begun, and now nothing can stop them. But if anyone wants to join in, just start groping.

R'ave merely drifts in the solace of a corner, eyeing only Lis' wine with a look of longing. "S'/hot/ in here," he murmurs to his boots, shrugging out off his jacket and tilting himself hip-shot against one wall. Quara is eyed, expression crass. "She looks like she's joking." Uh-huh.

Alymath> Triton @emit Kamath circles the pens, eyeing Alymath and his competition. He crabs another buck, breaking its neck and blooding it before bugeling again, obviously excited. His eyes swirl rapidly with colors of red and orange.

Alymath> Another paw slinks out, drawing the next unfortunate beast into his clutches by a tangle in it's hair. Trydanth buries his muzzle into the unfortunate beast's throat, his own throat pulsing in time with the swallow of it's blood.

Alymath> Foofth is far more polite that such a vicious, flirty green. Hmph. With a look of disdain towards the green, Foofth paws over to his second heardbeast. Perhaps he is blooding as well, but come on, dearies. See how the teeth just sink in and take care of it? No muss, no fuss? Makes it much cuddlier for the beasts.

Alymath> Orbyth allows himself a moment to let the blood drained from the 'beast slide down his throat, throwing his head back and extending his neck, before the bronze discards his prey in favour of watching something else he'd like to catch. Alymath.

Alymath> Sakuruth isn't cuddly. Grab, slit, drink, repeat. It's a simple process, really. And he has it down pat, after almost five Turns of chasing. Soon, several herdbeasts, having 'graduated' to the life beyond, lie in rags at his feet. Dinner, anyone?

Alymath> Soquilith's heated eyes smolder as he circles the pens, dark wings' heavy canvases slung and rustled as he continues to turn an ignorant glare upon the blooding males. A muttered whicker-whirr thrums in the chamber of his chest, attention riveted -- on the sky, on the feeling air on his face. He really does have some attention deficit disorder.

"Oh, really, Quara? I think I'd enjoy finding out your tolerance for pain..." purrs Lis serenely from her corner, queen of all that is wrong with this weyr - for today, anyhow. Spotting R'ave, she fixes a particularly evil grin on him as she asks sweetly. "Enjoying yourself, weyrling? Things'll get very interesting - just watch." And aren't you glad she only does this a few times a Turn?

And S'nug decides to take Quara up on her offer of 'joining in' and 'playing,' wrapping an arm around her waist while he keeps an eye over and at Lis. "I don't think she's kidding," is the bluerider's comment.

Alymath> Alymath suddenly turns her muzzle skywards and /bugles/; a long, hoarse, husky, longing sound. And then without prior warning, large wings unfold with an audible snap, the motion she does with her teeth in the herdbeast's neck causing droplets of blood to fly everywhere, staining glowing green hide. And then she goes /up/, upupup, towards the spring sky - and those who'd like a sample of heaven had better keep up!

Alymath> Up up up! Wings beat to lift you up out of the dusty pens.

Alymath> Above the Training Grounds
Alymath> Weyrling pairs have trampled the ground below into the hard-packed training grounds: ash pits near the pens, targets on the walls, the occasional loose Weyrling out of control here in the gentle thermals. The Weyr curves north towards large ledges and the Hatching Grounds beyond, and south towards pens and lake. What ledges are occupied here are high above the noise and smell of the Weyrs' youngest riders.
Alymath> It is a spring midmorning. As Rukbat climbs higher in the sky, the warmth causes the mist to thicken into a blanket of fog. The fog feels like a cool mist against your skin if you venture out into this morning, and the sunlight makes some patches of it glow with an almost unbearable brightness.
Alymath> Obvious exits:
Alymath> Up Training Grounds Central Bowl Northern Sky Ledges

Alymath> Foofth loops in from above the feeding pens.
Alymath> Trydanth loops in from above the feeding pens.
Alymath> Orbyth loops in from above the feeding pens.
Alymath> Soquilith loops in from above the feeding pens.
Alymath> Triton loops in from above the feeding pens.
Alymath> Sakuruth loops in from above the feeding pens.

R'ave tilts his head slightly, ducking beneath the greenrider's grin. "That's what I'm doing." But, with a quiet grunt, it's apparent he's not just watching. "This isn't fair." Why can't he control his dragon's libido?

Quara giggles idly at S'nug. "Of /course/ she is. She's a funny one, is Lissie." Absolutely hilarious. And then there's really no need for talking, since it's time for heavy petting. These actions speak much louder than words.

Zi'n's eyes skip to Lis as he thinks she's adressing him for a moment - but phew, let her take it out on the local riders, thank you. "Maybe... I need some wine," 'ling whimpers, heading straight for said beverage. He might never have attented a Lis-flight before, but he knows when it's required to get roaring drunk. And now is such a time.

Alymath> Kamath is a little slower than the smaller dragons, but his grand wings come out with a loud swoosh that sends him a trmendous momentum. They may be faster, but he is stronger.

Alymath> And Foofth. Well. Foofth is kinda average. Ya know. Kinda fast. Kinda strong. Never quite at the end of the weyrling class, tho, ya know? But gosh darnit, he's the cuddliest and he's determined to let Alymath know that! He's been trying long enough, heaven knows. And if all goes his way, his wings unfolding and soaring desperately, he'll get that little bit of heaven.

Alymath> Trydanth's electric sails thunder, booming against the air that holds his sleek self aloft. Legs lift, tucked fast into a streamlined shape that bolts after Alymath, Zeus visiting Danae in the shape of sunlit shower.

Alymath> Orbyth ignores all the other males around him, surging up into the air and after the only thing he's paying any attention to, Alymath. Big wings extended, the bronze sails after the glittering green, eyes fixed on her form.

Lis drapes various limbs dispassionately over parts of the chair, lounging comfortably with one leg swinging as she informs R'ave, "Life's not fair, snot. Get used to it." A scowl goes to the pair of blueriders who can't keep their hands off of each other - isn't /she/ the main attraction? "By all means, Zi'n - and yes, I do remember you - get drunk as you can. The hangover helps numb the regret in the morning."

Alymath> Sakuruth bugles right back at Alymath, calling her name in broad daylight in the air. It's kind of like night in the streets, right? But philosophical questions aside, he's chasing her wherever she wills to go. And in the lonely chill of the air, the rustle of flapping wings is clearly audible, along with the near-roar of his usual rumbling call. Swift movements ensure that he stays as far out of her sight as he can, should she sneak a look back; it's easier to sneak up on her when she doesn't know you're coming.

"He learns quickly," is S'nug's remark to the weyrling's decision to get roaring drunk, though the chatter is kept idle.

Alymath> Soquilith hammers, abuses the air with substantial breadths of weighted 'sails, cumbersome immensity he's not yet mastered hindering his manuevering abilites. He's at the back -- but he's not competing, Alymath is in his eyes -- the rest are merely obstacles to not collide into.

Alymath> Alymath snorts to herself. Poetry and promises - who can use /them/? All she needs is some down-to-Pern... err, maybe not quite, bu then up-in-air-action; yes, action! How, sweaty action - and at the pace green wings are beating, causing the small drops of blood to rattle off, they'd better be /fast/ to catch her. Yes, fast to catch her, but also good enough to hold her afterwards.... physically and mentally alike.

R'ave arrows an ardent glare toward the greenrider, sulking backward again. He'll deal with his problems himself -- and soberly, too.

Alymath> Physically /and/ mentally? Well. Foofth thinks he can do the latter. But poetry and promises. That's good. Because if she doesn't want them, he won't give them. He's no good at poetry. But cuddling. Well. That he can do. Flap. Flap. Flap. Flap. Wings beat wildly, determined. But can they hold up?
Zi'n jumps a few steps back as Lis says his name - eeek, he was egtting too close, right?? though as he's nowhere near the greenrider, the 'ling relaxes slightly, quickly pouring wine into his glass. Wine, my old friend... fellow un-proddy 'riders are sent nervous glances. Did they try this before? Help? Squeal...

Alymath> Kamath bugels to Alymath as he follows behind her at a slow and steady pace. I take my time, not like all of these other youngsters. He croons to her flirtingly, spreading his wings out to display his gerth.

Alymath> Sakuruth is fast; see those lovely aerobatics? Oh, right, the point of them is so she doesn't see him. Nevermind. But he's waiting right behind her(sort of) if she's ready to slow down and take that too-long drop from the sky into his talons. His claws are open, but the flight ain't free... Oh, yes, it is.

Alymath> Orbyth burns through the sky after the green, bronze form not wasting energy on bugling or any fancy flying. How's the speed of light sound? Because the way Orbyth's feeling, he must be as fast, if not faster. He'll make a supersonic woman of Alymath if he's given half a chance, oh yes.

Alymath> Trydanth's wings arc, lifting the blue easily without sacrificing a bit of the speed Alymath's flight demands. Behind him, his long zippy tail plays a willing rudder, aiming his slender self towards the green. Bring it on, baby -- he's can scratch more itches than those on her neck.

Quara practically purrs S'nug right on back, and never mind Lis. She's got a lovely guy right here. Now, should Lis choose to join them, she wouldn't object, but if she doesn't, that's okay, too.

Alymath> Soquilith deals with turbulence with enrapt un-attention, finally comprehending the changes in air with his body -- wings' flogging rhythm gradually easing into the oil-smooth swiftness of a bluesy jazz beat. He's moving toward her, but not for her -- in Rukbat's light, his hide fumes with a pallor only enriched with sparse tongues of passionate flame. No acrobatics, no poetry -- determined movement only.

And S'nug is more than content with his Quara that happens to be right there. Of course, if Lis were to wander over, that would most certainly be a positive thing, but in the mean time he poses the question to Quara: "Who ya doin' tonight?"

"Don't you mean what... Oh. I see." Quara giggles with belated realization. "You, if'n you want me to. Otherwise, I dunno. Someone, though." Well, isn't that special.

Alymath> Alymath is not already a supersonic woman? Hrm! Determined not to drop into /anyone's/ talons just yet, she keeps on moving, those wing a'beatin' fast towards the sunlit sky. Primal urges drive her towards the horizon; alone, yes, still, though the coy flick of her lashing tail makes promises of blissful reward to he who is fast enough, smart enough and powerful enough to catch her.

Alymath> Smart. Fast. Powerful. Yes folks, things are looking grim for our dear Foofth. But with determination matched only by his airheadedness, he beats on, hoping to beat his wings fast enough so he can beat out the rest of the dragons to dear Alymath. He too goes sailing up towards the sun, even if he does have to squint. Sun in his eyes. Bad! Still, he flies on.

Alymath> Realizing that he needs to be fast as well as steady, Kamath once again extends his great wings and pushes ahead with a great /swoosh/ that has the little blue firelizard reeling in the air, trying to keep his senses. He bugles again, taunting the green with promises of passion.

Lis doesn't needa anyone; she's got her winebottle, Alymath and a weyrful of cowering riders (except for those ingrates making out in the corner). Why, then, is she cursing D'renn for being so absent? Must be love, 'Reaches-style. No longer coming up with smart comments, she cuddles her alcohol close and communes with Aly.

Alymath> Orbyth is not put off one little bit by all the compertition that surronds him, he simply flies straight after the green, powerful wings massaging the ait around him, a shooting star leaping through the sky and heading for Alymath. If you wanna have a good time, then he's the one to call.

And S'nug finds it good enough to commune with Quara, telling her: "My weyr or yours?" Purr. Being special doesn't matter. All that matters is having a cute 'n' sexy bluerider next to him in bed, you see.

Alymath> Power is hardly a problem; Sakuruth is a hulk of a blue. Speed? Of course! Speed honed by Turns of flight, has he. And as for intelligence, well.... two out of three ain't bad? So the indigo blue flies on like a bat out of hell.

Alymath> If Trydanth has his way, Alymath won't be alone for long. Sails curve, neck stretches, and the blue gains a few precious inches, if anything. Almost lazily, at complete odds with the rest of his straining self, the dragon cocks his head to regard Alymath's fleeing rump. Tongue slides free, nearly lolling at the hypnotic dance of muscles beneath green skin. Distracted? Oh yeah.

Zi'n's eyes grow wide as he overhears Quara's and S'nug's conversation, and the 'ling's cheeks turn a bright crimson. Hastily looking into his glass of wine, he then proceeds to drain half of it, then all of it, filling it up again. Oh yes. Drunken stupor, my old friend indeed... Lis is eyed, slight worry showing on his face, but then no more as he's quite busy squirming in a chair. Squeak.

Alymath> Soquilith is brimming on his ideal cadence -- he'll never grasp the concept of midair somersaults, a limber tiller provided by the lashing slink of his diamond-smoking tail. He banks slightly seeking only to follow her now, the funk of his speed heightens slightly. Soquilith knows nothing of moderation, not in Alymath's presence. Even if her presence is way up there, and he's only lurking behind a throng of acrobatic fliers.

Alymath> Alymath makes sure to waggle that lanky bum of hers hard enough to make a few of the smaller blues and browns gasp and drop out of flight. Mwaha. Like the cork of a champagne bottle, she suddenly shoots away, pulling on her last ressources. And bubbling; brimming over with arousal, she then slows, part reluctantly, part expectantly.... find a way to her heart, and she will always be with you - at least for the night. Green wings beat furiously, then still, waiting.... waiting.....

R'ave isn't so uptight anymore -- he'd like a taste of whatever it is Quara and S'nug are having. But he's also not stupid -- Zi'n probably wouldn't appreciate a pounce, and Lis would rip his head off. So he simply lingers where he is, hoping to Faranth this is over soon. There's probably still someone to go home to.

Alymath> Dropping out of that blasted sun and down. Down. Down. Down. No! Not that far down! Up! Up, he says! There we go. Zooming /up/ towards Alymath, Foofth circles about, coming at her from the other side, having sort of overshot his darling girl. But still, this bumbling blue would love to have her cuddled up next to him all night, blue wing hesatently outstretched to the side to see if he can snatch her.

Alymath> Sakuruth is just about ready to give up and go back to the darkness on the edge of town when Alymath begins to slow. Scratch that; reverse it! And so he flaps all the harder, pushing on; the point of no return has been hit, and he's doing his best to make sure it wasn't a futile burning of his bridges. At this point, it's practically inconceivable that anyone but he should catch her.

Alymath> Paws extended, Trydanth allows his whole body to wiggle into the best possible position to snag Alymath away from the others. Tail lashing in preporatoy delight and entire body trembling with anticipation, it takes every ounce of concentration in his electric blue form to maintain both speed and height to catch what he already considers his.

Alymath> Orbyth certainly isn't doing to stop now, he's having a ball. Not letting Alymath's rear distract his concentration, the bronze flies straight for the green. Go, go, go... There's no stopping him. It's now or never, and Orbyth is determinded it'll be him making the green float around in ecstacy. After all, the bronze is a sex machine...

Alymath> Soquilith thrusts forward, a rushing voraciousness rocketing him like a dismantled H-bomb; he's not exploding yet, but the spark has been ignited. Every bulge and contour of sinew is used to full capacity at this point -- and he's getting a second wind. His torso swings as he elevates himself higher, though still not quite within her reach -- wings unfurl and flash violet-violent night expanses in any case, muscled forelegs extending.

Alymath> Alymath bugles one last time - and then she's drawn towards blue sparkles of electricity, calling her like a vortex. Letting herself fall into the waiting ar... err, wings of Trydanth, the glowing green ensnares him with her neck and tail, crooning contentedly. Honey, I'm hooome...!

Quara purrs at S'nug. "Oh, either's fine, but mine has wine." It rhymes. And it's in iambic dimeter. She's a lovely poet. And as for drinks, the bottle's floating around somewhere. She really can't be responsible for it, since she gave it to Lis.

Alymath> Trydanth's tail twines almost lazily around Alymath, wings outstretched to slow their collective descent.

R'ave exhales, falling back against the wall. "/Finally/." Finding his legs still of some use, he backs himself right /out/ of that corner. Where'd the door go?

Alymath> The dissapointed Kamath keeps his grin. After all, there have been other flights, and there will be many more. He trumpets to the victorious blue, cheering him on before heading back to the feeding pens.

Alymath> Hmm. Maybe inconceivable doesn't mean what Sakuruth thinks it does. So it's time to go on home again. At least Aly was nice and let him be close to his weyr so it's easy to get there. He pivots lazily and begins his way back. Hello, darkness, my old friend. Time to see you once again.

Alymath> Sakuruth battles the thermals that brood and whirl about the Northern bowl.

"Damn you, D'renn. I hope you're sleeping," Lis growls with unrequited lust as the bluerider turns out to be missing in action. Of course, there's still those two bronzeriders... "Hey, Pinky, Istan; what do you say I make honest men out of you?" She'd better well get some, from somebody.

Alymath> Oh. Foof. He didn't mean to fly by like that! He really didn't! With a dragonic pout, Foofth swings around and soars on home, bugling. Oh well. Next time, Alymath! Next tiiiiiiime! (Add Dr. Klaw voice for effect).

Alymath> Soquilith continues soaring long after Trydanth has caught -- he's either not realized it's over, or to set in the moment to really mind. He pivots mid-wingstride, body curled as he truly dismantles himself. Now -- there's got to be other proddy greens -- somewhere.

Alymath> Soquilith drops towards the ground.

Zi'n exhales a ragged breath, his glazed eyes regaining their focus. Saved by the bell, so to speak.... or is that the siren? Ahem, anyway, 'ling drains his umpteenth glass of wine and hastily scrambles to his legs, intent on leaving instantly. Until... squeak! "Wh-what?? Me?" Lis is eyed, and then R'ave, and... ooh. This might work. Hehe.

Alymath> Orbyth sees that his chance is gone, and slows down now. Winging around in a couple of lazy loops before joining the others not worthy enough of Alymath's desire.

R'ave is /just/ a step from exiting when Lis' invitation is caught. Zi'n? The bronzer is eyed, slowly, and then Lis is regarded in a haze of purple. "Ah.. ah... well." He never quite made it to 'honest man' status himself -- he wears pink, remember. So taking Lis up on her offer is only logical. "Sure."

Oh. Shucks. Well, since his lifemate didn't win, S'nug still has one chance to score now, doesn't he? He does. And she's literally right in his hands. "Ya know," says S'nug reflectively, leering at Quara. "Who says we have to go home. We've got a nice ground weyr here..." And thus, pounce.

"No, the Istan behind you," Lis snaps at Zi'n, hopping up from her chair to stalk agressively towards the bronzer and plant a kiss on his lips. Breaking this off, she nods R'ave over to one of the curtained off weyrs. "This way, then. Thank Faranth for wine..."

Zi'n stiffens - quite literally - as one piece of sexy greenrider plants a kiss on his lips. /Oooh/. this could definitely work. "But... but...." Then, realizing he might as well shut up and get down to action, the bronzeling obediently follows Lis to wherever she wants to take him... (Pun intented.)

R'ave eyes Lis for a moment, slightly jealous. He --being of the very discreet-- trails both 'riders, eyes only for swaying hips of any gender. It's beyond R'a to be biased.