Only Shooting Stars -- Isiloth's Maiden Flight

[saidaltam]

Siten was not normally an early riser, but she had found herself sleeping for briefer and briefer periods since returning to the Weyr, and thismorning had seen her rise before the sun. In the grey light of false dawn, she had roused a poor archivist apprentice from a nap to obtain a few of the Weyrling records for some of the older dragons for her. Once she had procured the desired records, she had set off for the kitchens for a cup of too-sharding-early klah. It was in this state, klah in one hand, records in the other, walking, drinking, and perusing simultaneously, on her way back to her weyr, that she felt Isiloth rousing for the day.

Reaching out to offer the gold an affectionate morning greeting, she froze. Her mind touched, not the customary pool of chill calm which was so familiar a thing, but a churning miasma unlike any she had felt from the dragon in over two turns, since the death of R'lyn. A dazed look spread across her face, and she blinked slowly, bewildered for a long moment.

Isiloth lifted her head, stretching her wings widly, and lashed her tail. She was hungry. It was rare for her to wake hungry, and as she'd fed a bare three days prior, she should not have hungered for another day or two, but she was hungry. She was also annoyed. Why ought she to be hungry? Had they forgotten who she was? This was intolerable. Bunching the muscles in her legs, she flicked into the air, circling the herdbeast pen.

The emotions washed over Siten like waves breaking on the shore until, finally, she realized just exactly what was going on, and a soft curse slipped her lips. Setting the klah blindly on the first surface she passed, she hastened toward the Weyr face. Emerging from the lower caverns, her eyes raced over the horizon until they found Isiloth, and Siten's throat caught. There was no mistaking the sheen of the young queen's hide. She'd seen greens do the same thing. On Isiloth, however, Siten couldn't help but think that it took on a whole new dimension. Even the faint predawn grey couldn't strip the color from Isiloth's hide.

Isiloth dropped on the first beast, and the moment she did, Siten snapped out of her introspective moment. 'Blood it,' she demanded, as she had been instructed. Angered, Isiloth issued an angered sound somewhere between a hiss and a roar, snarling at her rider. Why should she not be allowed to dine? She was hungry, and it was her Weyr. Siten was insistent, however, and after a battle of wills which the queen inevitably lost, she tore the throat from the beast, draining it swiftly before moving to the next. Once more, she struggled to eat, but for far less time before blooding it again. At her third, she didn't even object to taking the blood, finally accepting that it was what she truly wanted, anyhow.

Then, with a triumphant and challenging bugle, she flung herself into the air. The sky was calling, and she did not mean to kiss it alone. These were her dragons. Let them follow her, if they could.

((Please be advised that the final outcomes of all of my flights are left to the almighty whims of the dice. Do not be offended if you don't win.))

[stolenhart]

Mine she is blooding., F'shr's mind woke to a fog brought about by staying up until all hours of the night laying plans to protect the Weyr from the invading North. He'd barely gotten used to the fact that isiloth was a mature gold now, let alone one that was rising. What?, he mumbled as Voracth's roar cut across the small Weyr. She is rising this morning, get up, he snarled to the man. F'shr slowly rolled out of bed but then the implications of his dragon's thoughts struck him.

He staggered against the bed. "Shards", he said, reaching for pants and tunic. It seemed that today the Weyrleadership would finally be filled again. On one hand, as he headed for Siten's weyr, he was relieved. He would no longer have to make war plots send men to their death. On the other hand the leadership would change from what his father had done and the Weyr could well be in danger now. He did not know what to feel.

Voracth flung himself off his weyr ledge, roaring his lust against teh sky above. A streak of gold leaving the feeding grounds caught his attention and he barreled after her. His hide was taking on a similar glow as his mind merged with that of his rider though F'shr still wandered the halls. The rider sagged against a rocky outcropping as he felt his mind being pulled towards his dragon's. "Just one more moment", he pleaded finding enough strength to carry on his way. The first gold flight in over a decade at Southern was getting off to a good start and Voracth would be victorious. This all knew.

[kat]

Patrol was always the job of Wingleaders, and Z'ayn was no exception. Usually, it was very routine and nothing much occurred. It was about making sure the South stayed out of Northern territory, mostly--that and gathering what intelligence one could, if one saw anything out of the ordinary...or useful. Yes, generally very routine, no hassles, just a nice, relaxing patrol...

A gold, she rises!

Z'ayn was quite content surveying the area around him, but Kilzanth's words made him snap his head around so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash. "W-what? What on Pern are you saying, Kil?" he sputtered, afraid of the answer. There were no golds in the North that would rise any time soon. Any gold in the vicinity would not be Northern!

I will give chase! Kilzanth sent, veering sharply to the right. Z'ayn saw it, then. A brilliant gold dragon in the skies, glowing with flightlust. "Oh, shardit, no! Turn around and go back to the Weyr this instant, Kil! Now!"

His demands fell upon stubborn and otherwise deaf ears. He was horrified because he knew his dragon, knew how the bronze was with gold flights. He wouldn't turn around--not now that he'd seen the lovely golden prize. I will not! She will be mine! came the affirmation, the affirmation he didn't need, because he knew it was coming. He had no choice but to go along for the ride, as it were. He was so very, very in deep dragon dung. "Kil, you have to drop me off!" The dragonlust hadn't taken over enough yet that the bronze didn't have the sense not to obey that. They were in Southern territory, and only the connection of his dragon let him have any clue where to go. He would go to the one who rode the gold!

Kilzanth gave a loud bugle, his light bronzen hide shining over his rippling muscles as his wings pumped steadily after the lovely golden queen. He was a force to be reckoned with in any flight, and he knew it. He cared not that this was no Northern queen--he was beyond caring, so lovely was the golden prize he pursued now. Z'ayn, meanwhile, was feeling lightheaded and it seemed as though his feet were moving all on their own, seeking out someone...someone he'd never even seen before.

When a gold rose, everyone was instructed to go to their rooms--everyone but the chasers of that gold, that was. So, it was so much easier than it ought to have been to move through Southern's Weyr. His heart beat so rapidly, half in fear of being caught, and half with dragonlust induced feeling. He was terrified and lusting all at once, and it was confusing and almost unbearable. To go alone into the South's Weyr was madness. Thank Faranth no one seemed to even notice! But they would notice his dragon, unfamiliar and certainly NOT from the South. He paled a little, but continued to make his way towards the goldrider's Weyrs. It was surprisingly much like the Northern Weyr in build, and he found himself standing outside a door. He knew that she was behind that door, instinctively he knew. Was there already someone there? He managed to open the door and stagger in, seeing her there looking as he'd seen others look many a flight before.

He didn't even manage to say anything, dragonlust hit him full force like a blow that he couldn't stand under, and he had to lean against a wall, beads of sweat perspiring on him. All thoughts that this had not been intentional, that he would be in more trouble than he could handle if he was caught...nothing mattered, he wanted her. Just as Kilzanth glared at the Southern's bronze, and wanted to win the Southern gold. He was powerful and large, it was not for nothing that he was the Wingleader's dragon! He would come out of this victorious, there was no stopping him!

[saidaltam]

Siten had barely made it back to her own quarters when the first riders arrived, but her mind was not on them. It was far above, with Isiloth, watching the dragons flying after her.

Voracth was the first in the air, but neither Siten nor Isiloth were surprised by that. R'lyn's son, of course, would be well-prepared for this flight and ready to step up and play his hand at a chance for Weyr leadership.

What did surprise them both, however, was that neither Marth nor Hatath was the second body in the air, when both seemed to Siten to be likely to do everything and anything in their power to gain the position. It wasn't even Zeth, or Isiloth's clutchmate, Canylith. As a matter of fact, Siten, for the life of her, could never remember having seen that particular bronze before.

Isiloth, frankly, did not care. If he thought himself good enough to chase her, then let him try. Still, a mere two? Was she not worthy of more? Of better? Bugling defiantly, she flared her wings and sent herself spiraling swiftly higher. Let them chase after her. Let her see how high they could fly.

---

T'rel, under orders, had been waiting for this moment, and as soon as Vijaith had declared it to him, he'd been ready. Barely flicking out of between, he began unstrapping, and Vi swept low toward the ground. At ten or fifteen feet, T'rel leapt swiftly from Vijaith's back, landing in a low crouch as the bronze shot into the sky after Isiloth, flightlust already claiming him.

It was not swift enough, however, to subsume T'rel's mind before he took note of a familiar streak of bronze far overhead. He knew that one. Kilzanth? What was he doing here?

He didn't take the time to wonder at it, however. Another northern bronze meant another chance for northern to take Weyr leadership, and a little burden off of his shoulders in pursuing a woman he didn't want for a duty he didn't desire.

Speaking of desire, where in Faranth's name was that ruddy queen's rider, anyhow? Closing his eyes and weakening the walls he used to maintain some semblance of thought during flights, he let Vijaith's desire seep through and guide him. Swiftly and silently, now directed by flightlust, he made his way to Siten's weyr.

[Femisis]

It is time.[/i] Marth rumbled as he uncurled from his dozing position on the weyrledge and turned his head to the sky. Isiloth rises![/i] The lovely Queen was finally in the air, and he would be the one to catch her! Ignoring the stiffness in his crippled leg, he pushed off the ledge, wings flaring wide as he caught a breeze. He was a bit late, he noted, as Isiloth had already left the pens and was in the sky, daring her would be lovers higher and higher. He may have been crippeled, but that meant nothing in the air. He was fast and swift and would fly as far as he had to in order to impress her, to catch her. Pumping his wings, he soared after her, using drafts to get him the extra height he needed. There were four so far, himself, Voracth, and two he didn't recognize. He knew all the Bronzes in the Weyr, and those two weren't part of it. He snorted in contempt before roaring his challenge to the others. HE was going to win!

In the meantime, H'dan was sprinting toward Siten's weyr feeling an elation he hadn't felt since he'd Impressed Marth. This was it! He was so close! He'd been patient, he'd bided his time, and now the position of Weyrleader was up for grabs. Now everything was in Marth's capable paws. There were only three Southern Bronzes to compete with which gave him a VERY good chance of winning. Still, all bets were off on a Queen's maiden Flight. Isiloth had the final say in the matter no matter who wanted to win. He could feel the flightlust starting to overwhelm him as he made his way into Siten's weyr, tying to be respectful as the haze in his mind began to grow. He didn't even notice the Northern rider. Right now, he was seeing what Marth was seeing, all Gold.

[kusuri]

D'mon was pleased with his wing.They were performing a routine sweep of the parimeter in the earl morning.So far he had only had to reprimand one rand blue rider,so he was assuming the day would be the best he'd had in awhile.He closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the salty breeze and patted his metallic beast fondly.

His peace was short lived when he felt a tingling in regions better unmentioned.The forty year old's eyes flew open and he felt a deep and sudden connection he hadn't felt since Impression.He knew what this meant,but just to be sure, he sent a query to his dragon.

She Flies.I chase.

D'mon was furious.He yelled at his wing riders to disperse and stay away from the weyr.Many questioned why,but his wingseconds nodded and relayed the information.Dragons and riders both lit with hope as their leader blinked Between.

Of course that old Geezer's son would send him out soo early in the morning.Of course they wanted the most ambitious rider out of the game.He'd show them! Hatath would out fly all!

The beast blinked back into the Weyr,dropping his rider in the clearing and surging back into the air.He had lost precious time and hieght,as the others were already on the wing.But he still had a chance.Hatath wasn't the biggest bronze in the Weyr,but he was fast.The gold seared his eyes with her brilliance,Rukbat's rays enhancing her already shimmering hide.One of his lids closed against the glare and he pumped his wings strongly after,catching up with the other suitors.His whirling purple eyes never noticed the two foreign bronzes taking part.

D'mon's breath quickened with each surge of lust that over took his body.How long had it been since he had enjoyed a woman's flesh? He hadn't dared since that infuriating blonde bitch had eluded him.He had yearned for something new,as most women in the weyr knew him intimately.Hopefully Siten was untaken by a man;he found more pleasure in desecrating a fresh woman...

His sandled feet soon found the entrance to her weyr and he stumbled in.His connection with Hatath made him blind to everyone but the shining female before him.Never had he desired a woman and her position soo much...

((Fail post and first Flight as a male!))

[dragonfire]

E'ben was in the dining hall having an leisurely breakfast and a cup of klah. The man found it impossible to start the day without klah, and he had training later, so it was especially necessary. Are you ready for training, Zeth? You've been a little distracted lately. I wonder what's got you so restless...Zeth? Are you listening to me?

There was a short pause, and then...The Queen rises! Go![/color] the bronze cried, letting out a roar as he launched himself into the air. E'ben had earlier decided that he didn't want Zeth to chase, but now that Isiloth was actually in the air, that option was impossible. Face pale, the bronzerider ran out of the dining hall, heading for Siten's quarters.

Zeth followed the shining Gold into the air. He was a little late, but he was confident that he could catch up. Briefly he looked over the other chases. Hatath, Marth, Voracth...wait, who was the fourth bronze? Zeth growled, anger flaring at the sight of the foreign bronze. No matter...surely a Southern bronze would defeat him. Surely he could outfly the Northerner and win the lovely Queen.

E'ben skidded into Siten's room, already beginning to lose his sense of self as his dragon's emotions took over. He stared at Siten, seeing her dragon's gold hide. Desire was fast and overwhelming, and E'ben forgot his reservations about the Flight.

[saidaltam]

Siten watched the pursuers through Isiloth's eyes, identifying them as they joined. Marth -- no surprise. Hatath? Isiloth wasn't phased by his arrival, but Siten couldn't help but wonder at his tardiness. D'mon certainly didn't seem the sort to leave even half a second late at a chance to gain the power he stood to if Hatath could catch Isiloth. Zeth, she knew only passingly, having never really interacted much with either him or his rider. In her desire to know the names of every dragon and rider pair in her Weyr, of course, she had come across him, but he was, she had to admit, highly unfamiliar.

Not so unfamiliar as the second absolute stranger to join in, however, and that set Siten to worrying. Strange dragons appearing in Isiloth's flight meant that Northern was making a play for leadership. That was, to say the least, problematic. Isiloth was going to need every bit of help and encouragement she could get, with that particular play in motion. With an unhappy shudder, Siten stopped working to hold herself separate from Isiloth at all, and, all at once, she felt her mind melt into the gold's entirely.

Then, there was only Isiloth-Siten, and Isiloth-Siten did not care that there were Northern beasts chasing. Isiloth-Siten meant to see only the finest even come close to her magnificent hide. Nothing less would do. Tardy pursuers, she noted, but they made good showing of themselves. Perhaps one would be worthy, or, perhaps, one of those wise enough to give chase immediately. Strength or wisdom... it was hard to say. Isiloth-Siten dismissed the question, however. The victor would show himself, if he had the stamina. If he did not, then he should not win.

Most dragons made a show of their grace in flights, but Isiloth-Siten saw no need. She was no green to show off agile maneuvers and demand speed or elegance from her pursuers. She was gold. Let the strongest reach her, the healthiest. Steady on her course, she continued to rise rapidly, until the chill of the wind bit into even her wings, until it seemed as though she would beat the rising sun into the sky and block out its magnificence. Only then did she begin to falter, but she was not yet ready to fall.

---

Vijaith was swift to note the new pursuing bronzes, and he fanned his wings, angling for a thermal. Catching it, he tilted a wing down, wheeling gracefully upwards in a very wide circle. She would dive. They always did. He would catch her when she did. Until then, he would rise widely, so that when she fell, he would be waiting. Still, she was rising so very high... he didn't dare fall too far behind, or he would never catch her, even when she dove.

Wings beating for extra loft, he flew upwards, in eager pursuit of the pretty little queen. Against the dull grey of the sky, she was even more radiant, and he was certain that this time, he'd be strong enough to catch her. He was wilier now than he'd been the last time Astoth had risen. He was ready for her tricks, now. This was going to be his chance.

((This is your last chance to make a post before I close it up either tomorrow night or Sunday morning. I think all participants are already here, but just in case, one more day to join!))

[dragonfire]

Zeth beat his wings steadily, rising after Isiloth. He had been expecting more tricks, but Isiloth flew straight, testing their endurance. Then again, Zeth had never chased a Queen before, so how was he supposed to know what it was like? All he knew was that he had to keep Isiloth in sight, never let her get too far away.

He faithfully followed her to higher altitudes, where the air grew colder and thinner. His wings started to ache faintly from the climb but he ignored it, determined to keep going. He stayed on Isiloth's level, slightly behind her, ready to dart forward should she falter.

[kat]

Z'ayn wasn't aware of the entries into Isiloth's flight, and nor did it matter to the Northern bronzerider. Caught up fully in the flight-lust of Kilzanth, he was too far gone to notice anything but Siten and the beautiful golden queen that flew ahead of him--no, them! He was one with Kilzanth, powerful wings beating mightily, well aware of his advantages in stamina and size, but also aware that it was Southern dragons he would contend with. Perhaps Isiloth would choose one of them, as he was an outsider--or perhaps she would know that the strongest bronze was the one who would sire a clutch bearing a gold like she, a clutch with more bronzes, like himself!

She didn't toy with them, and didn't try for any green maneuvering, and his admiration for her grew. He ignored his competitors in his pursuit, having eyes only for Isiloth, his golden beauty. He admired that she knew what counted, somewhere in the mind that was still capable of thought he knew she knew what was important. He realized it as her first flight, and yet she did so well, that he would to his utmost to be sure he was the victor! If not, no dragon or man alive or perished could ever say that he, Kilzanth of Z'ayn, did not at least deserve to have won! He drove forwards, coming up upon her left side, keeping enough distance that he would be chosen and not imposing himself upon her. Many a queen in flight had wicked habits of lashing out at those who drew too near. He would not make that mistake. Instead, he simply made sure he was near enough that she might choose him, nearer to that side than any other bronze contender. Still, there was her other side and a bronze might come upon it, but whom would she choose, in the end? Only she could know.

[stolenhart]

She was a wily one this maiden gold but so were all maiden golds. Or so Voracth thought. He didn't know, he'd never chased a maiden gold before, let alone gold. There hadn't been a rising gold at Southern for so long. The two strangers with a scent differing from those he knew, they were dangerous. They had golds to chase, had even chased golds and would have knowledge of how to catch them. Best to let natural exuberance and drive win this instead of knowledge. It would take a bit of luck after all to catch a gold, especially this one with her cold wit and keen intelligence. She'd want a suitor that matched her.

And Voracth was that suitor. He gave a sudden roar, if for no other reason than because he could and because he gloried in the chase and the flight. The icy cold of the upper atmosphere washed over his body, making him feel as if he was on fire though in truth he was not. The ice in the air sparkled with the cold and filled his lungs with burning pain as he inhaled. The joy of the flight. This is what had been missing for Turns, even so forgetful a dragon as he recognized that fact.

[saidaltam]

((Results, as a reminder, WERE decided by die roll (and as nobody rp'd badly or would do a poor (or unamusing, in some cases) job, no penalties were applied, so everyone had an equal shot at this.))

The chill was starting to get to Isiloth-Siten, and she was growing weary, anyhow. She didn't know how much longer she could fly. She was ready, finally, to give up. Kilzanth-Z'ayn was very close, and he was a very strong, handsome bronze. Briefly, Isiloth considered tilting her wings to the side and falling against him, but the part of her that was still Siten rebelled at the idea, though in no words. Then again, no words were needed at this point.

Vijaith was far below, too foolish, in her mind, to have the good sense to keep up, and anyhow, the Siten in her didn't like that one, either. Turning from them, Isiloth-Siten surveyed her choices. The Siten in her offered some passing guidance, but her reasons (such as they were) made no sense to Isiloth, and so she ignored what lingered of Siten, drawing the girl deeper into herself. Isiloth-Siten became, purely, Isiloth, and the gold surveyed the bronzes over her shoulder until--he was not so large, no, but he was swift, she had seen that, and he was wily, she knew that. He would sire a proud clutch, and one worthy of her. Tilting her wings, she swung around with surprising agility, her first green-like performance in the entire flight, to bring herself back and give her neck up to Hatath. She had chosen her suitor.

[kusuri]

Hatath had flown strongly,but Isiloth's immense stamina was taking its toll.He had lost a considerate amount of energy with his first burst of speed,but the lust filled bronze flew on gamely,ignoring his competition.The dragon's wings twitched when he saw the gold turn and eye her suitors.He knew the time was coming; she would choose any moment now.When she agilely swung back,he squawked in surprise and joy as her wondrous shining neck twinned with his.Wrapping his tail around hers in a gentle caress, he snapped open his wings to slow their descent.

D'mon had paced anxiously around the girl's weyr,growing more agitated the longer he was denied his rightful pleasure.He growled softly, brown eyes not promising gentleness or love.He could see the the shimmering prize flying tantalizingly out of His-Hatath's- eyes.No matter how fast he flew, he could never seem to catch up...But then the golden creature turned and D'mon felt an overwhelming wave of Lust wrap his body as the king and the queen of the skies became one.Stumbling and grabbing wildly,he found Siten's shoulder and tried pulled her close.Without regard to her feelings,he roughly attempted pushed her down and take what was rightfully his...