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Post by Shikai on May 5, 2009 23:06:56 GMT -5
From the darkness of the weyrledge came a shimmer of gold, a dragon’s head thrust out into the open air as wings unfurled to reveal their glowing golden splendor. She was awake. She, the true queen of the weyr that stretched below her, was ready at last to take command of her dominion. Her mother gone, leaving the land leaderless.
It was time to take her inheritance.
Her claws tested the weyrledge as she looked out over the weyrbowl and beyond. To the east ahead of her, Rukbat was rising, purging the morning darkness from the skies as it sent the shadows scattering before its might. Gwynevith’s chest puffed out with pride; she felt the call of the skies and the sun, the call to dance with her true sister as the males gave chase and she was worshiped by all.
It was time.
She launched from the weyrledge, taking to the air as a massive form of radiant, glowing gold, and let loose another cry, not of pure rage, but a challenge. The attack on hers was unforgivable; she had to take the leadership that was her birthright and then no one, no one would dare harm her rider, for then they would have Gwynevith to answer to.
And she was Queen.
Another bugle, and she descended upon the herdbeasts with flared wings and gaping jaws. She grabbed one of the hapless creatures without landing, swooping back into the air with it as she tossed it up like a rag doll and caught it in her mouth. The beast’s body shattered as her teeth came down with a crunch, and she landed heavily upon the earth, eyes blazing with colors of flight as she dropped the beast at her feet, and roared her challenge once more.
Let all males who dare come forth.
Her head lowered to devour her prey, but she jerked back with a hiss as a pesky voice interrupted her feast. Yet she could not ignore it, could not pit her will against Alana’s with success. She was Queen, but she was Dragon also, and she must heed that voice in her mind, and obey.
The blood was rich and metallic on her tongue as she drained the herdbeast, and wings flared as her eyes sought her next kill.
But then she saw it.
Lefayeth, Lefayeth was shining with the flight glow also, calling for her males and eating her herdbeasts and how dare she. Gwynevith screamed in rage, and it was only the need to eat, the need to keep blooding that prevented her from launching herself at her fool, inferior sister on the spot.
She had shared her egg, shared her candidates, shared the weyr with Lefayeth and oh, how hard she had tried to be kind! Gwynevith was not a vicious soul. She had tried to be tolerant and tried to be considerate but this was unforgivable. This was betrayal of the lowest variety.
She would not share her males.
This was her moment, long awaited by all of the weyr, and Lefayeth would not take it from her.
Gwynevith’s tail lashed as she blooded her next kill, hissing all the while at the smaller gold. Soon, she would rise but Lefayeth, Lefayeth had better not.
This was her time, and she was Queen, and she and Rukbat would rise, and no one else.
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Post by D'gellin on May 6, 2009 0:51:53 GMT -5
It was much too early to move, D'gellin decided, sighing contentedly. He had no obligations until midday and had stayed up late the previous night. Yes, he definitely deserved to sleep in, to not worry about the world outside his head for just a little while. His stomach, however, betrayed him, growling in the otherwise silent weyr. It took him a moment to recognize the sensation as that of his fire lizards. Cracking an eye open, he found his blue and green flitters hovering impatiently above him, Whirl rubbing his face impatiently against D'gellin's like an eager feline. Seeing his was awake, the duo immediately broke into a chorus of complaints.
"Alright, alright, I know, I'm up." D'gellin shooed them away, though not with contempt. He rolled out from under the covers and searched for relatively clean clothes amidst the mess on his floor (hey, he was a rider now! There were a lot of responsibilities that kept him from cleaning). Morning, D'gellinmine! Lancetoth called cheerily from his ledge, excitable as ever at the prospect of a new day. Morning, Lanny. D'gellin replied with almost equal delight. Although gradual, the bronze really had been rubbing off on him, and it was hard to remain groggy with the dragon's vibrant emotions mingling with his own. All in all, it seemed as though this was going to be a good day. A very good day.
...A suspiciously good day.
"Why do I get the feeling that something bad is about to- waaAAAHhh!" D'gellin jumped in unison with Whirl and Mother's screeches of surprise. A bugle had just cut the morning air with a vengeance. "Shards, nearly scared me out of my skin." He croaked.
It's Gwynevith! Lancetoth declared, all aflutter with delight. D'gellin rolled his eyes; the bronze had been smitten by the gold since the party before the first Fall. Though considering Lanny had also taken a shine to Vereth, and was eager to compliment the entire green and gold populace as a whole, the rider hadn't put much thought into it. What he definitely did not expect however, was for Lancetoth to hit him with a tumult of emotions revolving around an annoyingly familiar sensation. The queen's bugle suddenly made startling and belated sense.
"Oi, hey, no you don't!" D'gellin yelled in alarm, running full tilt for the dragon couch, but Lancetoth had already taken off for the heard beasts. Between the haze of his dragon's emotions, D'gellin ran a hand over his face, torn. He always kind of really hoped Lancetoth would take chase after a dragon with a, you know, girl rider (he was still a little sore with the bronze for catching Vereth and landing D'gellin in T'ril's wyer). But this was Gwynevith. The Gwynevith, the gold. It was a dizzying realization and the last one he had before Lancetoth bugled a return challenge.
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Post by Tealah on May 6, 2009 11:38:48 GMT -5
Artoneth had been restless all morning.
He'd woken P'neil before the sun even rose with his constant pacing between his sleeping area and the ledge. The occasional rumble, trapped in the small area, made the rider's teeth rattle. No amount of grumbling or reassurance from his rider could make the dragon settle. Finally, P'neil gave up and tumbled out of bed.
From his vantage point on P'neil's pillow, Blue gave a sleepily inquisitive chirp. Was His leaving? Would Blue be getting food? P'neil chuckled and stroked the little firelizard. "Sure, why not. Since I'm up anyway, you might as well get fed and oiled."
And I, Artoneth said unexpectedly. He'd paused midstep on his way back to the ledge to look back toward P'neil and Blue. The animosity he'd shown the firelizard ever since P'neil Impressed him was absent in his distraction. I must be bathed and oiled this morning. Yes, I think that would do nicely.
"All right," P'neil said with some reluctance. "When the sun comes up and the Lake is warmer -"
NO. Artoneth's interruption was vehement. I cannot wait that long. This is important, P'neil. With that, the brown dragon snaked his head through the curtain that separated his ledge from the rest of P'neil's room, and with surprising delicacy snagged the back of P'neil's shirt to drag him to the dragon's side. Now come, we must go.
"Now hold on just a minute, Artoneth." He pushed the dragon's dark-masked face away. "That lake is freezing cold, we'll both catch our death in there. Now we'll wait until -"
We must go now, before... the other dragons awake. P'neil sensed something behind Artoneth's reply, some sly knowledge that the sleepy rider didn't have, but he knew better than to argue with his brown when he was in this mood. Besides, Blue was fully awake now and creeling with distressed hunger.
So P'neil had found himself at the lake in the wee hours of the morning, scrubbing Artoneth's hide. He'd snagged some meat rolls from the kitchen on his way, so Blue was on the shore happily stuffing himself with them. It didn't take P'neil too long to finish washing, although Artoneth's restless movements kept stirring up the water enough to completely soak his rider. By the time they moved back up to the shore for oiling, P'neil looked like someone had tried to drown him. The sky was lightening - Rukbat's rising couldn't be too far off.
And so it was, just as P'neil finished the last of his oiling, Rukbat broke over the horizon. And it was at just that moment that P'neil put aside the oil that a challenging cry rent the air. Artoneth and P'neil's heads shot up in unison to stare toward the feeding ground. Whereas P'neil looked surprised, even a little shocked, Artoneth merely looked like the feline that caught the canary. That will be just fine, thank you P'neil. the dragon said smoothly over P'neil's questioning look. Now if you would kindly make your way to Alana, Gwynevith Rises, and I give Chase. With that, the brown dragon took off in a flurry of wings that knocked over what was left of the oil, and angled toward the herdbeast pens.
"Hey!" P'neil yelped, eyes widening as he realized the import of what Artoneth had said. "Gwynevith is a gold, you can't Chase her! Artoneth, this is for the Weyrleadership!" His only answer was a very satisfied mental chuckle. "B-b-b-but... Artoneth, you're only a brown! And, I can't be... you can't expect me... I can't be the Weyrleader!" He stared aghast in the direction his dragon had taken.
If it makes you feel better, the dragon answered him tartly as he hovered a moment over the beastpens, Gwynevith and Lefayeth BOTH Rise. Only the one who is caught first will be Weyrwoman. On that note, the brown dove to blood a herdbeast of his own, as P'neil, jolted into action by what his dragon had said (both queens Rising at once? This was terrible! He had to do something!) began to run in that direction.
But where were the goldriders? He caught the arm of a passing drudge, gasping out his question. P'neil barely waited for the drudge's answer - in the dining hall, the last she had seen - before he took off again. Near the entrance to the lower caverns, he nearly ran right into another rider. Ah, B'kay, he believed it was. He was looking distinctly lost, and in the grip of some very strong emotions. His dragon had gone to the Queens as well, perhaps? He gripped the rider's elbow, attempting to guide him out of the way. "They're in the dining hall, man, if you're looking for the goldriders," he muttered past the stitch in his side. "Come on, come with me."
Artoneth may not have had the metallic sheen of his larger bronze brothers, but his dark hide gleamed with the richness of well-polished wood. The splash of blood he took from the herdbeast didn't even show on his dark muzzle. The brown mantled his wings, as a raptor does protecting prey, hissing in warning to the two bronzes who'd already settled near her. This was HIS time to shine, HIS queen, HIS mate to be, and no one elses! Yes, Lefayeth would have been closer to his size, perhaps easier to catch, but it was Gwynevith he wanted, and Gwynevith he would have!
The brown roared out his own acceptance to the gold's challenge. He was ready!
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Post by M'kel on May 6, 2009 18:21:37 GMT -5
The rock trembled beneath his hide, and Tirenth raised his head warily, multiple lids opening quickly to reveal whirling eyes. It was the bugle of a gold dragon. It had been a long time since Araelen had last heard that call. The bronze had failed in that Flight. Although he had won the one before, a moment of triumph neither he nor his rider would ever forget, the dragon had lost some of that youthful confidence. He had been scarred by Thread across his muzzle, and he had failed to win a single Flight since.
But a Queen was calling, and he was a bronze of her Weyr. He would answer.
With a bugle that sent his rider tumbling from bed and sleep alike, Tirenth strode to the edge of his weyr. It was then that the second gold sounded her challenge, and the bronze swung his great head around in surprise. Both of the Jr. Queens were rising at once?!
He watched in horrified apprehension as both descended to the Feeding Grounds, but seeing nothing more than some hissing and spitting as each blooded their kills, the bronze glided down to join them. Tirenth secured himself a ledge overlooking the Grounds and waited, ignoring the presence of other bronzes and even an impertinent brown. He didn't really know which gold he would chase...perhaps it would simply come down to whoever took Flight first.
A weary M'kel had finally made his way to the weyr ledge at this point to find out what all of the commotion was about. The sight of two golds in the Feeding Grounds surrounded by bronze dragons caused the rider to gasp, and he grabbed at the wall of his weyr for support. It was then that the first wave of desire struck him through the bond with Tirenth, and he began making his way down the steps to the Bowl. He had to find the goldriders! Because of the Flight...and because they had to control their queens, or both could die!
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Post by C'lyn on May 6, 2009 20:31:59 GMT -5
Seath bugled loudly in alarm and desire, shocking his rider. L'kas stood quickly from his small desk, knocking his chair backwards as he hurried to the ledge of his weyr. He looked at his bronze in confusion, looking over the edge of the ledge.
Both Queens rise!![/color] Seath informed his rider, his concern waring with the lust rising in his blood. L'kas spun and stared at his bronze for a long moment, his brows furrowed.
He looked down at the feeding pens at the two Queens facing off. He swore under his breath and vaulted onto Seath's back, not daring to take the time to running down the many stairs to the bowl. Seath bugled again and he dove from the ledge, only snapping his wings open at the last moment so that he landed with a loud thud, nearly knocking L'kas from his back. L'kas hit the ground running in search for the two gold riders. His clothes were rumpled and his hair disheveled, but he didn't care, all that mattered right now was keeping the two golds from killing one another.
Seath roared loudly at the two Queens, more then ready to jump between them if need be, willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the weyr. He watched them as he shifted closer to the pen, stopping just out of reach of claws and jaws of the agitated Queens.
L'kas shook his head to try and keep the lust broadcasting from his dragon to him from taking over. He felt like shaking Alana, among other things as he stumbled in his search.
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Post by .K.aci on May 6, 2009 23:12:04 GMT -5
I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
;;So now my reader, we meet again - it has been at least half a turn since we have last looked closely at the pair as we now shall begin to do again. It is no fault of their's - they have had adventures and problems, but together have found the faults and begun to work as a team rather then Weyrlings. This is again H'aze and Dartagnath, but they are now Senior Weyrlings, in a weyr of their own, with duties of their own. They are quite ready to go out and conquer the world, with steady eyes and sure hearts, for they understand the world so much better now. They do realize what they are doing - they understand Pern, and they understand eachother. Before Dartagnath had come into his life, H'aze had been a crumbling cliff, slowly pounded in by the unforgiving sea... Now, he was a different fellow from when he had first been Searched, pulled from the Trader caravan by the Bluerider.
;;H'aze had grown - he had celebrated his twenty-first turn only a few sevenday's ago, and surprisingly put on one more inch to make him now six foot four. Watch him as he walks around the weyr, searching for something with a single minded intensity. He is a slim man, but not weak - no, he is not even bony, but has the relaxed air about him of someone who is quite confident they can kick your butt. His walk is something feline, graceful, but although he is hunting - a predator. He is all muscle - despite eating well he still has no fat on him. He is rangy, slightly tussled, and looks like one of the felines - rippling, sleek, lithe muscle. He is not as gaunt as he once was - he has filled out some, eaten square meals, but the angles of his face have only seemed to sharpen. He still as the high arched cheekbones, and the straight blade thin nose... But he has a softer air to him now, the hard planes sanded down to a silky smooth touch. His hair is longer than it was, the white blond almost down to his shoulders, still ragged and spiked as he always forgets to cut it.
;;Despite having a solid presence in his once not quite sane mind, he still wears his deformities. His right ear is threaded through with an elegantly made tiny earring that curls up and around his earlobe, giving him the impression of having poked holes all up his ear. And he still as the tattoo's - he doesn't mind them at all, the elegant black lines that starts at the left temple and follows the hairline down, curling around his body like a tunnelsnake, under the eye and around his throat and torso. He likes his tattoo's, and doesn't mind being different - it is a reminder of what he was before Dartag. Look what he wears - it is all sensible, despite his newfound position in life and the ability to afford better things. The boots are the same worn pair, the cream tunic fit perfectly against a slim chest, and black pants covering the top of the boots. Everything is clean, and presentable.
;;Pale sapphire blue eyes scanned the room as H'aze paused - where had he put his other boot? He had wanted to go wash Dartagnath, and he needed his boot to do that... A broad hand ran through his hair, and he scanned the neat room once more, not only searching but making sure everything was in it's proper place. Ritan, his tiny Brown flit that feared everything was curled inbetween the front paws of the large feline on his bed - Amora was sleeping as well, not worried about the simple problems of her human. The bed was made up, the furs neatly folded, and everything was where it belonged... H'azeMine, your boot is next to my couch. The words rumbled through his mind, and H'aze smiled - a small joyous smile of little words and all feelings.
;;At almost a run, H'aze slipped into the adjoining room, anxious to see the Bronze... And there he was, standing on the ledge in the before dawn light, peering back at His. H'aze had to stop a moment, just to admire the creature. Dartagnath wasn't the biggest bronze - he was just middle. But he was more beautiful than that - his perfectness made him bigger. He was just one of those things that had happened quite by accident - he was perfect in his looks. The Bronze was almost at his full size now, and even though he wasn't completly big enough, it didn't matter. He was nothing but muscle and sinew, built along the lithe corded lines of a wire. And what made him more amazing was the fact that he didn't see himself as small - he radiated pride, and woe to the dragon that underestimated the power and speed of the young King.
;;In the glimmering half-light Dartagnath’s hide gleamed rich and radiant, though his bronze shade was more alike the Queen's in some aspects. He could never be mistaken for a Queen, but he was different in that aspect. H'aze only stood and admired the beautiful creature - he alone knew that the bronze really was darker in hide than what some would have guessed, but had an almost gold color flecking along his hide so that he mixed into a perfect balance of inbetween... His balance. That was what Dartagnath was, after all - H'aze's balance. The young man had been borderline insane, a harsh voice in his head and a thick abyss that threatened to swamp him... Until the Bronze had been Hatched, and filled in the seemingly eternal hole effortlessly. H'aze no longer had to control his mind ineverything - he was better, in so many ways...
;;Of course, they had fought. H'aze was a more laid back person, quieter, a take charge behind the scenes man. Dartagnath took bravery and courageousness to a tee, however, acting slightly rashly and standing up for everything he felt was right. Honor was his name, and H'aze found himself talking to people, doing things he would have never done before, all for a dragon that defended His and those close to him to the end, against anything... And that had been a problem, for H'aze had been spoken about and mocked for his appearance. The Bronze was much more rash than H'aze ever was - his code of morals was a strict line that H'aze had to learn as well. Everything was done with a single-minded intensity that H'aze respected, if not fully understands...
;;The biggest problem the two have is following their hearts, and they both had a crush - of course, when they decide to like someone, it just happens to be Queen and her Rider. Dartagnath and his codes of right and wrong, his hotheadedness, his fiery heart saw Gwynevith and fell head over wings. It didn't help that H'aze had been attracted to Alana since he had first met her, and so the pair had mooned after the Queen's from afar for a long time... It seemed the moments had come to make do with a new plan, one Dartagnath knew that H'aze wouldn't quite agree on. It didn't matter - he loved His, but poor H'aze needed a push forward, and he would prove his love the one way he knew how - Catching a Queen. They were going to fly. Every dragon knew it, long before Their's did, and long before Rukbat had risen H'aze had oiled and bathed Dartagnath.
;;The Bronze had been a little odd the last candlemark, pacing from couch to ledge and back, but H'aze didn't ask. Sometimes it was better with Dartagnath just not to. Of course, he regretted that when the young Bronze snapped to attention, peering downwards. Mineown! The relaxed male yawned, peering over at the Bronze from where he had been sprawled in the stone couch. Yes? In a second Dartag was over to him, nosing him up and on his back without a harness. Come! COME! Questions were useless - he was up on the Bronze's back and holding on for dear life as he shot to the feeding pens, and only when H'aze had slid down did the Bronze explain, Gwynevith Flies - I will win her. Her's should be nearby - We will be strong for them. And up in the air he went, up in a blast of emotions and wind that tumbled through H'aze's mind and made him spin. They Both Fly.
;;Queenflights? In shock and under the dragon's firm lead, H'aze knew it was useless arguing. His dragon was hotheaded and firm, sure of himself and confident of the right and wrong of the world. This to him was right, and he would not argue - instead, he stumbled into get himself a mug of klah before he had to face Alana... And ran into a drudge that grabbed his arm and tugged him to the dining room, hurrying him along with gibbered words, where he found the two Queenrider's fighting. Why in Faranth's name were they doing that! They had Queen's to control and send in opposite directions, or else they would rip each other to shreds! Over he ran, using pure height and muscle to haul the two shorter women up and get between them. Generally quiet, this wasn't a time - "Get hold of yourselves! You've Queen's to control!" And he let them go, but stayed between them, angled towards Alana by no choice of his own... Well, by only half choice of his own.
;;Dartagnath came to the pens himself, swiping a young beast from the edge and blooding it carefully, purple eyes whirling to Gwynevith and all of her glory. He crooned his praise, knowing he was more than ready for this, for her. He deserved Her, just as His deserved Her's - they had admired from afar for too long, and now he would Chase. The other Queen meant almost nothing - it was Gwynevith, the shining star.
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know I'll be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination
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Post by Shikai on May 7, 2009 2:15:29 GMT -5
Absorbed as she was in her task of draining as many herdbeasts as she could of blood to fuel her in the coming flight, the accumulating suitors did not escape Gwynevith’s notice. Her hissing took on a note of satisfaction at the sight of the bronzes and browns who had come to pay her the proper respect and worship. Yes, it was well that they heeded her call! She, who was Queen of the weyr and Queen of the skies and would, perhaps, deign to allow one of these males to share in a fraction of her glory, if she found one to be so worthy of the honor.
But first, of course, they would have to prove themselves worthy of her.
Another beast fell to her jaws, which now dripped scarlet with the life substance of the dying herdbeasts. She drank deeply of their sacrifice, drawing their blood into her core to fuel her flight and bring life to the weyr. Such was her duty, and this was her time. The bronzes roared to her, and Gwynevith let loose another primal bugle as their answers to her challenge stirred something within her. Queen, she had been called, since birth, but now, now she would prove herself worthy of her name and of her color. The inferior males had better beware, for Gwynevith was not going to make this easy.
It was almost perfect. There was Her, and her males, and they were all at their best; fine, strong dragons with well-polished hides and moving with rippling muscles beneath the glossy skin of bronze and brown. Each in their prime and ready to her challenge.
She deserved no less.
But, but, oh, that impudent, miserable fool of a gold was still there! Why had Lefayeth not left yet as Gwynevith demanded? She had no business there, in Gwynevith’s hour of dawning glory, yet there she was! Drawing Gwynevith’s suitors away, trying to lead them away from her to ruin her Time and leave her sterile and bereft of all that was due to her as a queen in this, her rite of passage. It was nothing short of despicable, and Gwynevith would not, could not tolerate it!
She roared again at Lefayeth, unleashing her full potential and all her might and fury. This was a warning, and Lefayeth was lucky to get one. If she persisted in her heinous scheme, why, Gwynevith would have no choice but to…
Gwynevith snorted at Seath as he roared at her, warning her not to attack. How silly of the bronze to think that he could tell her, a rising queen in her maiden glory, what she was not to do! She outsized both he and Lefayeth alike; she would take them both on, if need be! She was gold, she was queen and she was bursting with unrealized power as she Awoke, and she listened to no one but…
She hissed at the presence in her mind, a familiar presence, but it was being very pesky now, and she wanted nothing to do with it if it would not give in and share in her glory. That Alana was welcome to do; how perfect it would be for them to soar the skies together, to choose their mate, to be flown through the lightening sky as dawn broke over the world…yes, of course they must do that without the other queen. The idea that they could share the skies and share the males was preposterous, and she pushed it from her mind. But the presence was back, pushing, fighting, suppressing her in her urge to lunge at Lefayeth with a will superior even to Gwynevith’s own…no, surely such was impossible. Gwynevith would leave the other gold alone for now, but only because she had not yet taken her fill. If Lefayeth attempted to rise when Gwynevith was ready, well…the foolish gold had doomed herself to her fate when she dared contest the mandate of the mighty Gwynevith!
Alana was scarcely conscious of the other riders in the room, paying them no heed whatsoever until she was hauled from the floor with no more resistance than a rag doll, brown eyes utterly blank as they met with H’aze’s, but were as unseeing as though she had been struck blind. She remained standing, her feet planting themselves unbeknownst to her as her hands balled into fists, clenching as she stood her ground in that tiny spot in the lower caverns. She must hold her ground, she must she must she must and Gwynevith must be controlled; all of the weyr, Pern, and most importantly of all, the life of her dearly beloved gold herself, depended on it. Nothing had ever been so important, and Alana retained only what was needed of herself to keep her separate will intact, pouring the rest into her dragon as she spread her presence through the gold’s mind, there and persistent and impossible to ignore. She could feel the blood running down her throat, the ground beneath her mighty claws, the wind pulling at her wings so gently, so soothingly temptingly…fly she would, but she must not fight, must not harm Lefayeth, must not must not must not –
And she chanted her will from within the dragon’s mind itself, the two so blended that they were but one being with two warring minds, fighting for dominance that would mean the world and would be the most terrible battle of Alana’s life.
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Post by Tealah on May 7, 2009 15:01:16 GMT -5
Artoneth noted the arrival of several more bronzes and a brown with fury. How dare they seek to steal away his triumph? How dare they regard him with contempt? He was ARTONETH. He would fly, he would claim beautiful, kind Gwynevith as his own. What did it matter that he was not large even for a brown? He was swift and agile - no lumbering bronze could hope to out fly him.
Whirling red eyes stood out like drops of blood against his nearly black mask. A vicious hiss and a show of teeth in warning to the other males. A proud arch to his neck and wings, a soft rumbling croon for Gwynevith's attentions. She is beneath you, oh glorious one, he crooned, his mental voice slick with longing and eagerness. What does it matter that she flies too? She is only lapping at the dregs you leave her, beautiful Gwynevith... He wasn't even sure if he'd spoken "aloud" - the words had just formed themselves in thought.
P'neil followed the seemingly crazed bronzerider in to the dining hall, where he saw another rider pulling both queenriders to their feet. He sent the younger man a sharp look. Part of it was that he didn't approve of the rider's method of intervention, but he had to admit that the biggest part was that Artoneth's volatile emotions were effecting him quite strongly despite his efforts to resist. Even now the lust that gripped him for the young goldrider was almost overwhelming, though he'd not felt that way before. There was a certain protectiveness there, too. Not just to protect her from the other male riders, but to cherish her. He even found himself reacting to that without thinking, moving close to Alana's shoulder to offer the support of his sturdy body.
Huh. He'd known that Artoneth had been somewhat taken with Gwynevith when she and her rider, and Lefayeth and Kitari, had greeted them on their arrival, but he'd thought Artoneth was just being... Artoneth. He hadn't known he'd felt this strongly about the gold. Beneath turbulent Flight emotions, P'neil couldn't help but feel another worry - how would Artoneth take it when he lost? He was only a brown, after all.
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Post by C'lyn on May 7, 2009 15:27:04 GMT -5
L'kas reached the dining cavern just as H'aze stepped between the two women. He barely held himself in check from leaping on the younger man. He shook his head and noted the other riders already there, clearing his throat to keep his wits about him a moment longer.
He didn't at all like the way H'aze had positioned himself more toward Alana. He clenched his fists at his sides to keep himself in place, knowing that it would be up to his dragon to win Gwynevith, and he had faith in his bronze.
Seath ignored Syth and all of the other dragons gathering, keeping his attention on the two golds as they continued to drink the blood of the helpless beasts in the pens. He had fed not that long ago and his strength was at its best.
He bowed his head slightly as Gwynevith snorted at him, but kept his position, wings half opened as he crouched. He watched both golds, but kept the majority of his attention on Gwynevith, the more beautiful of the two he thought.
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Post by Shikai on May 8, 2009 1:17:12 GMT -5
The bugling songs and praising thoughts were a symphony to Gwynevith; one that she feasted upon and drank from just as deeply as she did the herdbeast blood. It invigorated her in the same sense, and as the last of the blood was sucked from her kill, she lifted her head on her proudly arched neck to survey her suitors. Many fine bronzes and browns had arrived! Deserving of her, that was another matter, but they would do, at least, to join her in the skies as she took flight.
Gwynevith reared back onto her powerful haunches, stretching herself toward the sky as she seemed to expand with pride and glory, wings unfurling as every inch of her golden body caught Rukbat’s dawning light in the most spectacular way. She almost looked like a sun herself, nearly glowing in her rising beauty. She had never looked more radiant, more full of youth and vigor and power and femininity, and she knew it well.
Gwynevith’s red-stained jaws parted to let loose a final cry, a roar that carried all of her emotions and strength in one feral sound, at once savage and primal yet capable of stirring the hearts of all who heard it with its meaning, resounding in the breasts of even the most civilized and reserved of people. Every dragon knew what it meant, and so did every rider.
In a fluid motion of seamless, liquid grace, the muscles rippled beneath the shining hide as she launched herself into the air, wings unfurling like golden sails to catch the willing wind. She soared easily upward, not yet flapping more than she had to to get aloft, for she knew she would need her energy. Oh yes, Gwynevith would give every male present the most grueling test he could dare to imagine, for no lesser dragon could hope to be the great Gwynevith’s mate!
The sky took her took her into its breast as though she were a child returning to its true mother, and the sun seemed to hasten its progress into the vast expanse of blue as Gwynevith joined it. She had never been so aware, so wonderfully, utterly aware, of her own power and every wind current playing against her hide. However, there was still the matter of the other gold, although fortunately, Lefayeth had not risen. Yet.
Gwynevith swooped low, calling out to her suitors to join her in the skies, and casting another warning hiss at the other queen. Gwynevith had risen, all must give chase, and all others had better stay away, or face the severe consequences!
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