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Post by D'gellin on May 11, 2009 14:45:11 GMT -5
Generally well-disposed as Lancetoth was, he was none-the-less quick to succumb to the tumult of emotions around him. The rivalry between the queens was bitter and violent on the air, eliciting a low hiss of unease from the bronze as he surveyed the scene over his blooded kill. The ferocity, however, the blood-tipped muzzles, the flash of warning golden wings, the bugles that shook him to the core, had never been more appealing, more impossibly attractive.
Lancetoth found that he could scarcely divert his attention long enough to take what energy he could from the heard beast. Now was the time to fly! Now was the time to take his queen! Alert and overeager as he was, the bronze was nearly in the air before the queen could launch herself skyward. Such elegance and grace! The sight of her glowing golden form was almost too much to bear! It took a great amount of self-control to remain on the ground, to politely admire from afar, before Gwynevith shot past the group of suitors.
Now! Lancetoth shot himself into the air, feeling the heady rush of adrenaline as he attempted to position himself first in the male pursuers. He was averaged sized, perhaps not particularly fast as some or graced with the endurance of others, but he was nimble and crafty! Handsome, strong, and endowed with both youthful vigor and foolhardiness. There was no doubt in his mind that he, Lancetoth, the mighty! was the one and only bronze capable of catching this magnificent prize!
D'gellin was meanwhile finding it difficult to disagree; indeed his vain struggle for mental control had been demolished with little effort on Lancetoth's part. The best he could do was stumble zombie-like to the Lower Caverns, directed by various sources, as the Weyr seemed to be abuzz with nothing but talk of the Flight.
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Post by Tealah on May 11, 2009 16:14:27 GMT -5
Artoneth's wings shook with the force of his excitement. His dark jaws gaped slightly, a low rumble making it's way from his chest. Eager longing suffused the brown dragon when the object of his affection reared back to cry out. He answered her cry with one of his own. Such graceful flight, such beauty!
At Gwynevith's beckoning call, Artoneth raised his wings. But what was this? The other gold was also in the air, and flying to attack his Gwynevith! Artoneth's joyous bellow turned to one of alarm. He must protect his queen, but generations of breeding constrained him, for he could not attack a gold even to protect another gold. But wait - the other queen had gone between. An image flashed in his mind, demanding he follow, but with sheer force of will Artoneth disregarded it. No! He would chase Gwynevith only.
Nearby, a bronze leaped for the sky. Artoneth snarled. How dare this youngling try to beat him to his Gwynevith! With powerful wingbeats, he shot up to follow, eyes focused determinedly on the gold. This bronze may have stolen an early lead, but Artoneth would not allow him to keep it.
Down in the dining hall, P'neil found himself trembling beneath the tumult of Artoneth's emotions. It was with only extreme determination that he was able to keep enough control over his brown to keep him from snapping at the bronze. Artoneth's emotions were volatile even at the best of times - these Flight-induced feelings blazed in P'neil like a forest fire. The emotions very nearly overwhelmed the poor rider. It was only by dint of much practice that he was able to keep hold of Artoneth now. Despite the Weyr's need for a good Flight for it's golds, Artoneth couldn't help but hope that this would be over quickly, one way or another.
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Post by M'kel on May 11, 2009 16:20:05 GMT -5
The ledge he had selected provided an optimal view of the Feeding Grounds, and Tirenth readily admired the radiance of the two queens below. The bitterness over the disappearance of his last mate, Aviciath, quickly dissipated at the prospect of catching one of these young golds. In his eyes, their glowing hides were at the peak of perfection, and none could match the majesty in the Bowl that day. However, one of the queens was obviously far closer to perfection than her twin, for Gwynevith was as large as a queen should be. Lefayeth was too small, more like a green (well, a bronze-sized green anyways), and so the decision was made in Tirenth's mind before either queen even leaped.
When the moment came, Tirenth's muscles coiled in readiness, but before he could follow Gwynevith into the sky, his bugle of alarm split the air at the sight of Lefayeth powering upwards toward the other queen. Immediately, he lunged off the rocky ledge, claws scraping the edge as he heaved himself forward with as much force as he could gather. The queens could not fight! They must not! It seemed impossible that this end peacefully, though. Queens must never rise at the same time. There was nothing he or any of the other males could do if the golds latched on to each other…
And then Lefayeth disappeared.
Tirenth snorted in surprise, whipping his head around in search of the smaller gold. An image filled his mind, but the bronze was not tempted. He noted the other bronze and brown who vanished in pursuit, but they and Lefayeth were quickly forgotten. Gwynevith's glorious form filled his vision, and he crooned in admiration at her perfectly sculpted wings and neck. Tirenth was a mighty bronze who had won a gold before, but he knew that he would have to prove himself to be chosen by Gwynevith.
M'kel had reached the Lower Caverns by now. Along with banging his shins on a few benches, he had finally reached the cluster of men gathered around the goldriders. The fear that rippled through Tirenth at the sight of Lefayeth lunging for Gwynevith caused M'kel to gasp aloud, and he reached forward slightly as if to restrain the queen, or at least one of their riders. The crisis passed, however, and he plunged back into the Flight, as it should be, with one gold being pursued by the eager males.
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Post by C'lyn on May 12, 2009 12:42:13 GMT -5
Seath relaxed slightly as Gwynevith took to the air, leaving her smaller twin behind at the feeding grounds. But, his relief was short lived as the smaller gold took to the air. He hissed loudly in shock as Lefayeth headed straight for Gwynevith, launching himself into the air. He knew there wouldn't be anything he, or any of the other males could do if the two queens attacked each other, but he was willing to try.
He bugled a warning to Gwynevith, but it did mid note as Lefayeth disappeared. He looked around, wondering if the smaller gold would reappear at a better angle of attack, but no she didn't. He saw the image in his mind, but paid it no mind as he took up pursuit of the glowing sun before him, the one truly worthy of all attention. He vaguely noted the bronze and brown that disappeared, he supposed in pursuit of Lefayeth.
He crooned apologies to Gwynevith for his earlier behavior, he had simply wished her not to bother herself with the lesser gold.
L'kas trembled as he was sucked inot the whole of the flight, his and Seath's mind one now. When Seath had lurched to stop the queens, L'kas had stumbled forward, running into H'aze. He grabbed the younger man's arm to steady himself, unaware of doing it as Seath now began his chase after Gwynevith.
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Post by Shikai on May 13, 2009 23:42:53 GMT -5
Gwynevith wheeled and circled in the air, dancing on the wind as she called out to her suitors, beckoning them onward. In her soaring glory she nearly forgot the smaller queen, certain that Lefayeth would not dare attempt to usurp Gwynevith’s morning sky. But then came the challenging cry, and Gwynevith’s head turned to see the gold rapidly approaching her. Gwynevith roared her outrage to the skies, turning in the air as Lefayeth was nearly upon her. Her claws reached out, desperate to dig into the golden flesh, and her mouth was a cavern framed by flashing white teeth, ready to close down upon as much of the offending dragon as she could manage…
And then she was gone! Gwynevith’s head twisted on the elegant, sinewy neck, wings carrying her in a spiral as she searched for the gold, and she cried out in both rage and mourning as the image touched her mind, and two of Gwynevith’s suitors disappeared. No! This was sabotage, sabotage and treachery! Gwynevith wailed to the rising sun, a sound that was born from loss but shifted to overpowering rage. Blood! She would have Lefayeth’s blood! Chase Lefayeth between, tear her from the skies, and in death she would be sorry she had ever dared to challenge the mighty Gwynevith! She would punish such treachery…show Lefayeth that…show her…
The impulse was quickly fading from the dragoness’s mind, and she growled in frustration as she felt the thought slipping beyond her grasp. That blasted presence in her mind was shielding it, drawing a shadowy curtain over the desire, forcing her attention back to her own flight, to her own suitors, who were rising and giving chase, and how many there were, and the other gold was forgotten as Gwynevith bugled a final call to her suitors. They must rise now and follow, and perhaps, just maybe, one would be lucky enough to win her favor!
The bugle sounded, Gwynevith wheeled away from the bronzes, fixing her eyes on Rukbat. The sun, the sun! They would fly for it, and see just how close one could get to that glorious sphere on dragonwings.
The wind rushed beneath her wings, like massive sails of gold, carrying her ever higher. A queen was born to soar, and soar she did! At the back of her mind was that instinct that altitude was a necessity, that should she choose a male (but all were so unworthy, who could possibly ever be worthy of winning her maiden flight? They would have to impress her yet…), a great height would mean a large clutch. She must fly far and long, letting all of Pern know that she, Gwynevith, was in the skies that were hers today and had always belonged to her; that today was her day of glory, so all might look up in awe and see their queen. Today was her day, and Lefayeth was all but forgotten. She was Queen of all she could see, of the skies and the ocean and the land and all of Pern was hers, for this morning that was her day of glory. Carpe diem!
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Post by M'kel on May 14, 2009 13:51:57 GMT -5
As Gwynevith flared her wings and turned to face the approaching Lefayeth while her screams of outrage rent the air, Tirenth was thankful once again that the other gold had vanished so promptly. And just in time, it seemed. The queen was even more angered at the sight of those two traitors disappearing after her, but Tirenth bugled a placating affirmation that he would chase none but her.
She was the Queen of the Skies. She had surpassed her mother in size, glory, and radiance. Tirenth was reduced to an insignificant follower in the wake of her power, and his ambition faltered for but a moment. His youthful naivete had been rudely scored out of him by Thread, and the Queen who had once been his had vanished. Left him. Gwynevith was right to doubt his worth...
And yet, Tirenth thought with a flaring of confidence, who were these other bronzes compared to him? None of them had won a gold. The brown simply could not compete. No, Tirenth would prove his worth. He was larger and faster; his hide shone with the richness of his bronzen colour!
She was calling to him, coaxing his desire with every wingbeat, every bugle, and he powered eagerly after her. Gwynevith was rising higher and higher into the sky, and Tirenth strained his wings to their utmost in order to follow. He was finding it difficult to close the gap between them, but while she climbed, he deemed it best simply to keep up. That would be challenging enough, for Gwynevith was young and strong and fiery hot.
He would catch her. She must be his!
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Post by D'gellin on May 14, 2009 16:53:12 GMT -5
The disappearance of the second queen was only a small blip on Lancetoth's consciousness. What did the little queen have on beautiful Gwynevith? When two of the suitors disappeared after Lefayeth, Lancetoth could only hiss at their absence for their lack of appreciation. Surely they should be more respectful to their rising queen!
Lancetoth would not leave like those insolent deserters! Lancetoth was loyal! He sung his devotion to his queen, marveling at how her hide glistened in the shine of Rukbat. What was Rukbat even, in comparison? Gwynevith was the star! Gwynevith was the sky! The young bronze could feel the beginning of strain as he rose after her, the other suitors forgotten, both in this flight and the one far off on a distant beach. Gwynevith was all that mattered this day. Lancetoth would prove it to her, would show how he was the only one worthy to share in her glory.
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Post by C'lyn on May 15, 2009 21:55:11 GMT -5
Seath rumbled his admiration as Gwynevith lead them higher, following more then willingly. He glanced briefly at the other bronzes and the brown, but quickly turned his attention back to the Golden sun that out shone even Rukbat.
He had won the last gold flight and he had been upset when that gold had disappeared just like she had appeared, but thoughts of her were quickly banished as he worshiped and chased the golden goddess before him.
She was a worthy and mighty Queen who deserved nothing but the attention of all, to be worshiped as a goddess among dragons. He told her all of this, openly showing his admiration of her.
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Post by Tealah on May 16, 2009 12:27:15 GMT -5
A less self-confident brown may have felt decidedly small in comparison to his bronze rivals. Even the gold he pursued dwarfed him. But no, not Artoneth. If he thought of his lesser size at all now, it was simply to gloat at how he could dart in and around the knot of larger beasts. How much faster and more agile he was! How could anyone resist such a demonstration of skill? Who could possibly prefer such lumbering bronzes to this obviously superior brown? Surely not his Gwynevith! Surely not!
His gleaming golden quarry, just tantalizingly out of reach... With a sound somewhere between a bugle and a whine of excitement, Artoneth put on another burst of speed. He gloried in the stretching of his muscles. It had been too long since he'd truly, truly flown. And now, to share this moment with HER, the sun of his life, his very own GWYNEVITH. What did it matter that his lungs burned for lack of oxygen as they circled higher toward Rukbat? She was so close, so close... He would not let a little thing like breathing keep him from catching her!
Down on the ground, P'neil was not nearly so sanguine about that. Connected to Artoneth as he was, his own lungs were burning as though he'd just ran around the Weyr several times, then took several laps around the lake for good measure. And it was not a pleasant feeling. He tried to "suggest" that Artoneth drop out, but even the strongest of such suggestions was simply brushed away as one would brush off an annoying little fly. He swayed on his feet, oblivious to all in the room now except Alana.
Artoneth rumbled deep in his throat. What was this? P'neil wanted him to give up? Never! He was no "mere brown", he was Artoneth, and he was the king of the skies. None could compete with him! None! He would show them, he'd show all of them, and Gwynevith would be his! Ignoring the pain, he followed on the gold's tail as she rose toward the sun.
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Post by Shikai on May 17, 2009 16:18:03 GMT -5
Gwynevith had been easy on her suitors so far, flying in a fairly simple pattern up, up, up, as high into the skies as her wings could carry her. All of them had proved they had the stamina to catch the glowing sun that she was, but now was the time to test their agility.
The gold suddenly dipped her wings of molten sunlight, pulling them in to drop like a stone through the air before snapping them back out, abruptly wheeling back the way she came, reversing her course. The stunt would cost her some altitude, and she was vaguely conscious of a muffled complaint from her wing muscles at the strain, but that was not important. She was Gwynevith, and only the best would have her! She must find her king, and how could she weed out the worthy from the unworthy without tests?
Besides, her strain was nothing compared to that the smaller dragons were feeling. She was Queen, soaring on the largest dragonwings to be found in all of Pern. These males could not hope to compete, except through their wiles, better agility, and sheer strength of will. Above all, these were the qualities necessary to win Gwynevith. It was time to see which suitors had them.
She danced through the air, wheeling and changing her course whenever she desired, but keeping it angled always skyward, always up, despite the burning beginning to set into her wings. That was of no concern to her. By some deep, thoughtless instinct, she was aware that the future of Pern may well depend on the strength of those wings, and of those of the males following her. Though it may have seemed like a cruel game, pushing the bronzes and browns to their very limits, straining their wings until they could beat no more, Gwynevith was not cruel. The grueling pace of a gold’s flight had never been more necessary. Eventually, she began to share in their pain, in the torment of every downstroke, but she pushed the pain from her mind. She was sister of the sun; the sky was her rightful place! She could dance there forever, if she desired. Gwynevith only glowed brighter as the flight went on, radiant in her maiden glory.
As she dipped and wove through the morning skies, she began to evaluate the males in pursuit, singing her praises as they well ought to be. Lancetoth was a bronze from her own clutch, and what a fine one at that! Average sized for his color, healthy, and more flexible than the usual bronze, too! She rather liked him, as well; remembering the day on the beach, but she could not make her choice based solely on who she liked…
Artoneth was another she had met and liked, and she was very pleased that he had managed to keep up despite his size. That took great will and strength, and he was very charming besides…but would he be the best father for her clutch?
Tirenth and Seath were the true kings of the weyr, if any dragons could be called that. They alone had proven their worth to other golds, and were both healthy and strong. Tirenth was a bit arrogant perhaps, but there was a kind of roguish charm in that, whereas Seath was more quiet and polite. They both had their strengths, and were more than viable candidates to win Gwynevith. Maybe, maybe they were worthy of her…
Dartagnth, there was another fine bronze. Young, inexperienced, but of a fiery, noble nature and beautiful form, even if he was on the small side for his color. No, this bronze certainly hadn’t escaped her notice…
Gwynevith had many fine suitors, and deserved no less. But whether two perfect dragons chased her or a thousand, there could be only one winner, only one who would meld with her and help to carry their single form through the skies. He would give her his strength and what was needed to lay a large and healthy clutch, and in exchange, she would let him borrow a portion of her power and glory, elevating he and his rider to the rank of Weyrleader. It was winner take all, and Gwynevith had the greatest prize in all of Pern to give.
She suddenly put on a burst of speed, straining upward and suddenly spinning on her wingtip to change her direction, wheeling around for another round of aerial acrobatics when the unthinkable happened. Her turn brought her too close to her suitors, right on her tail as they were, and she narrowly avoided collision with Lancetoth, swooping away at the last second. However, she was unable to avoid the most agile dragon in the flight, and her eyes whirled in alarm as she found herself tangled with Artoneth.
Thought it wasn’t a conscious choice, Gwynevith’s alarm quickly gave way to confidence that Artoneth was the right male for her anyway. True, he was a brown, and thus, smaller than the rest, but he had remained right with the bronzes the entire flight! Gwynevith had not drawn the chase out quite as long as she would have liked, but at least that meant Artoneth should have plenty of strength to carry her long and far in the crucial finish of her flight. She crooned to him, her king, and though the sound was sweet, there was an undercurrent of challenge. As her king, he must carry her far, he must, he must! She knew he would, and Pern depended on it. Gwynevith’s choice was made!
Alana was scarcely conscious of herself anymore. She had given all to Gwynevith to control her dragon during the flight, and especially with the tumultuous emotions now felt by all the weyr, and strongest by Alana and P’neil, she could not separate herself from the golden form now. However, she was vaguely aware of the other body shared by the two minds, the weaker human form in the lower caverns, that she truly inhabited. She was aware, too, that Artoneth’s human counterpart was there as well. She turned to him and only him, oblivious to all others in the room and in the world.
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