July 25, 2004
Running an errand for Ainsley, R'hyn gets caught unawares when Siramyth rises - and Arisvath catches. Again. Previous Next
You start across the mile-long distance of the bowl.
** A large brush pile lurks near the entrance to the living caverns - no, on second look it resolves itself into the gangly length of Durreth. His eyes first-lidded, the bronze appears supremely comfortable and uninclined to move.
** Arisvath half glides across the bowl - previously, he landed in front of the Weyrleader Complex, and R'hyn disappeared inside for a short time. Now, the bronze lands, as lightly as he can, a short distance from Durreth and the entrance, huffing a cold greeting to the other dragons assembled. R'hyn dismounts, looking cold, and clutching a roll of hide.
Arisvath crouches low, allowing you to swing your leg over his neckridges, and climb nimbly towards the ground, with the help of his straps.
You head through the tunnel to emerge in the living cavern.
Kiora relaxes a bit. "I'm Kiora, yep. Nice to meet you. I think Siramyth was talking to Durreth yesterday. I'm sorry if she said anything mean to him. She's been a little fussy the past couple of days, is all." She offers an apologetic smile, though her attention is captured briefly by Willa's ... experiences with her hair. Err. "Doing okay?"
Arisvath> Siramyth is more than easily recognized -- there aren't many things that could be easily confused for her, really. She's sprawled in whatever spot offers the most sun, taking up as much space as she can possibly manage. She opens an eye long enough to spot Arisvath's arrival, but seems too lazy to do anything to greet him.
B'den opens his mouth to reply to Kiora, but he closes it again when the flighty thing turns her questions to Willa. He doesn't seem to be very bothered by it, just turns a brooding eye back on the kitchen doors. N'thri - if that's indeed who he's waiting for - might be better advised to sneak out the back way.
R'hyn stamps the snow off of his boots, wrapping his heavy jacket more tightly about his body even though he's now headed into the warmth. In his right hand, he clutches a roll of hide; the left is dug deep into his pocket. The serving table is given a thoughful, almost hopeful glance, but in deference of politeness - it seems - he turns instead to peer about the cavern, looking a little lost.
Willa looks up and blinks curiously. Head tipped over she smiles cheerfully at Kiora and just nods. "Oh, fine," she says with an absent wave of her hand that interrupts her song. Shrugging she returns to her music, smiling a bit vaguely at Kiora once more before ducking her head.
Dragon> Arisvath senses that Durreth offers politely - his voice rumbling like an oncoming avalanche, << Welcome. >>
Dragon> Durreth senses that Arisvath's voice contains a natural, fluffy warmth, though this is muted. << Thank you, >> he drawls, quietly, though sincerely. << Our duties. >>
Kiora beams faintly at Willa. "That's good. Sounded like you were having some trouble." Willa's good health established, she turns back to B'den, pushing her plate away and dusting a few stray crumbs off her lap. "Complains about the cold, mostly," she adds, apparently referring to Siramyth. "I wouldn't think she'd be too cold, but I guess so."
Arisvath> Durreth unlids one eye to consider the strange bronze, then the gold. He rumbles to them both before shifting his weight - ever so discreetly - toward Siramyth.
Arisvath> Arisvath greets Siramyth more particularly, with a quiet rumble, then shifts his wings about himself, considering them all with half-lidded eyes. No need for sudden moves.
The wingleader's attention's yanked back to Kiora like a fish at the end of its line. "Sorry?" His voice, while nowhere near the level of a bellow, is loud enough to cause several people nearby to look. "I wasn't listening."
Arisvath> Cardixa slides down from Viasseth's helpfully lowered shoulder, landing firmly and confidently on both feet.
Arisvath> Cardixa heads into the tunnel to the living cavern.
Cardixa comes out of the tunnel from the bowl.
Arisvath> Tallerith wings its way down from the sky overhead.
Arisvath> T'ren slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Tallerith, the Brown lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the he hops to the ground.
Arisvath> T'ren heads into the tunnel to the living cavern.
T'ren comes out of the tunnel from the bowl.
R'hyn, finally, strides towards the serving table, tucking the scroll beneath his chin as he pours himself a mug of tea, wrapping his hands about it. Noting Kiora for the first time, he hastily - and amazingly, without slopping - grabs up his mug, and heads over. "Ki! Ista's duties to Fort."
Arisvath> Siramyth shifts a bit. Plenty of space for all the boys, really. Both bronzes get a faint snort in greeting, and then the bulky gold attempts to arrange herself in to a slightly more alluring position.
Finola comes out the short, wide tunnel from the lower caverns.
Cardixa enters about thirty seconds after R'hyn has unglued himself from the floor, but she doesn't give any indication of recognizing him-- but, given her apparent singleminded mission to get food, she inevitably ends up following him.
Kiora frowns, looking more disappointed at B'den's response than anything. "Oh. Um, nothing, I guess ..." And then there's R'hyn, who seems quite a bit more responsive. "R'hyn!" She beams, then peers towards the bowl for a moment before responding. "Fort's duties to Ista," she adds eventually. "How come you're here? To visit?"
Arisvath> Viasseth blinks slowly a few times at this little cluster, his nostrils flaring and wings shifting with sudden unease. Rather than flop into a sprawled position, he deigns to sit back on his haunches a safe distance from the male dragons, eyeing Siramyth through still-blue eyes. Well, then.
Finola reenters the living caverns wearing a fresh outfit and a scrubbed look from a much needed bathing. Greeting the people she knows Finola makes slow progress to the food tables but once there she loads another plate with food and a glass of wine before selecting a table to sit at.
Willa's attention keeps straying around as someone new arrives. Tipping her head she just shrugs as her glance passes over most everyone. A quick smile crosses her lips when she spies Cardixa and somehow her hair winds up back into her mouth where she sucks and chews on it as she begins to play a little louder.
"Message," explains R'hyn, indicating the scroll, which is now back in his hand. "From Ainsley to Alyssa, but Alyssa wasn't in her weyr, so... Is it always this cold?" It's only now, as he turns to seat himself beside Kiora, that he actually notices Cardixa - she must have been in his blind spot, before, though now, hesitantly, he smiles in her direction as he sets down his mug.
B'den grunts as his greeting to R'hyn. He shifts his shoulders again - shirt too tight? - and stands, slipping his riding jacket off the back of the chair and over one forearm. "Clear skies."
T'ren makes his way into the caverns, tugging off his gloves and stuffing them into one of his jacket pockets. He scans the milling throng, grumbling at his timing as he tries to weave his way over to the serving tables.
Only the barest of side glances and increased pace indicates that Cardixa has, in fact, seen Willa, and she makes a rather pointed effort to avoid her at all costs, staying on whichever side of the serving table will keep her back turned to the woman. She hastily pours herself a mug of klah and distractedly adds what looks like an inhuman amount of sweetener, then side-steps a bluerider to make her way to R'hyn's table. "Mind if I sit?" she inquires in the next available pause.
Finola spots R'hyn nearby and waves a hand to him, offering a "Good evening" between hurried bites of roast wherry. The healer looks over at the entrance to the caverns just as T'ren enters and perversely she settles back into her seat and ignores his arrival.
Arisvath> Siramyth turns a bit, spreading her wings as much as she can without hitting anyone -- this is no easy feat, though, and the gold promptly closes her wings again. She makes a faint noise of greeting to any new arrivals, her eyes whirling at a thoughtful pace as she peeks at the lot of them.
Willa sits up a bit straighter and spits out her hair once more. She switches songs again, not seeming in the mood to really finish anything which gets her a few looks from those who are paying attention. The looks are ignored, because, well, she doesn't want to play something through it seems.
"Lots of people," Kiora notes distractedly, her expression a bit perplexed. "And it usually is, yep. Cold, I mean. Siramyth's been complaining about it, but ... um, all the visitors seem to have put her in a better mood." Cardixa gets a vague wave, and then Ki rapidly fixes her attention on the plate in front of her.
N'tev strolls in easily, leathers not so much as whispering as he slides inside the living caverns, becoming a pattern against the rocks of the cavern that heads for the klah pot. Strong fingers look themselves in the handle as he poors himself a mug and helps himself to a seat at the table with his wingmates, rumbling hello.
R'hyn gives B'den a measured, hesitant glance, even as he's attempting to pay attention to the rest of the crowd. Recognising Finola, he gives her a quick, cheerful smile - "Oh, hello!" - which he hastily follows with, "Of course you can, Dix. Not that--" He trails off, giving up with a shrug. "Oh. I really don't envy you lot, then. Ugh. Cold."
B'den drops Cardixa a nod as she sits, then turns abruptly and makes his way for the kitchen, bypassing the serving tables entirely.
Arisvath> Azouvith settles easily into the bowl, seeming to pool against the dust of the bowl. Wings melt into his side, his tail folds against his feet, and his neck curls up against itself.
Cardixa nods back at Kiora with equal vagueness, looking daunted by the crowd as she drops into a chair next to R'hyn. "Not that wha-- Oh." Resepectful of the concentration required to hold multiple conversations at once--and completely unable to do so herself--the brownrider subsides and sips at her klah. And makes a face. "Faugh."
T'ren finally manages to reach the serving tables and then mutters a curse as he has to wait for someone else to finish with the klah pots first. When he secures a large mug for himself, he turns to make the trecherous trek to find a seat in the crowded area.
Arisvath> Tallerith settles himself against one of the bowl walls, trying to stay away from the other dragons.
Finola returns R'hyn's smile with one of her own before turning her attention back to the meal in front of her and to listening to the conversations flowing around. One gift most healers have is to listen to the babbling of several different people while concentrating on something else and Finola is never one to ignore what gossip might be had in the crowded dining area.
T'ren slips onto a seat at the table near the edge of the room.
B'den heads up the steps to the kitchens.
Finola slips onto a seat at the table near the edge of the room.
"Just wear lots of clothes," Kiora offers, apparently to R'hyn. She pushes her plate away yet again, turning a rather vivid shade of pink for no discernable reason. "I, um -- well." She rubs her nose a bit. "I'm going to go check on Siramyth." And, with that abrupt excuse, she skitters out into the bowl.
Kiora heads through the tunnel to the bowl.
R'hyn shrugs his shoulders in defeat - he's never going to catch up with these conversations. "I seem to have picked a busy time," he says, finally - a more general comment to his various tablemates. "But it's really good to see you--" he breaks off, again, to peer after Kiora. "That's funny."
Once a seat is spied, T'ren heads quickly over and drops himself into it, not paying much attention to the fact there is another person there. When he sets his mug down a faint frowm is given, "Finola," he greets the healer.
"Clearly," Cardixa agrees dryly, lowering her mug. And then she blinks. "What's /her/ hurry."
R'hyn wraps his hands about his mug again, admitting, "That's an awful hurry to go out into the snow. Plus the pink cheeks. I guess I don't really understand teenagers."
Cardixa is still staring after Kiora. "I'd be willing to bet it's more than that."
Arisvath> Siramyth has gathered such an audience! She remains sprawled out, peering around as if taking inventory, even when Kiora comes scooting out into the bowl. "I want to go home," she says insistantly -- and rather loudly, as if this is the key phrase to rid Fort of all visitors. "Can we go take a nap?" Siramyth doesn't move an inch. Tra la la.
Finola offers T'ren a detached smile, the same kind she gives to riders who whine too much about their scored arms "Hello T'ren" Looking over at R'hyn she offers a "At least you can't claim it's too cold in here with all these people." Thin eyebrows furrow as she watches the young goldrider run out of the living caverns and forgetting that she is supposed to be ignoring T'ren she murmurs something to him.
Willa just isn't paying attention to anyone. Nope, nope. She's sitting there, tucked away and playing quietly or loudly depending on her mood and how far into a song she actually gets. It finally seems to get to her because she actually finishes a song all the way through.
"Such as?" R'hyn wonders, turning about so that he can peer towards the exit. "Arisvath says she looks very pretty, but--" He breaks off, glancing back at Finola, and laughs. "True. I may even take my jacket off, at some point!"
N'tev's rumbling voice carries only a few paces - as low frequency sounds are wont - but anyone near enough can hear the conversation. Mostly, it's sniping at Istan's, but now - that Kiora has disappeared - something snarky about Istan golds is voiced.
Dragon> Arisvath bespoke Siramyth with << You /do/ look lovely, tonight. I haven't seen you in some time. >>
Cardixa shrugs and takes another sip from her mug. "Such as, I don't know Siramyth very well, but I don't think she generally has an entourage." She flips a stray tendril of hair back from her eyes. "But I could be wrong."
T'ren follows Finola's gaze and frowns even more when he spots R'hyn. His attention gets pulled from the Istan rider though as Finoal murmurs to him. A blink is given and he turns to look towards the bowl, scratching at his chin, "Was it?" he replies back to the healer.
R'hyn's brows furrow, and, quiet, he groans. "I think you may be right. Ugh - this doesn't bode well for Istan-Fort relations." He takes another sip of his tea, swishing it through his mouth before finally swallowing.
Arisvath> Viasseth is getting a bit red-purple-eyed now, but regards Kiora (waaaay down there) with as much pity as a dragon can regard anyone. Aww. She doesn't know. In't that cute.
Dragon> Arisvath senses that Siramyth simmers appreciatively. << I've missed your flattery, I believe. It's rather unfortunate, me trapped in Fort, so the presence of a proper bronze, >> An Istan bronze, of course. << Is welcome. >>
Dragon> Siramyth senses that Arisvath is all sincerity - warm, and Istan, drawled just right. << Oh, not flattery, Siramyth - just truth. It is a shame, for you to be here, though the snow does set your colour off nicely. It's a pleasure, to be here. >>
Finola shakes her head at R'hyn and offers "Why don't you sit down and warm up for a few minutes, it's colder then between out there." T'ren's remark has her expression turning cool again as she gives him a look that accuses him of being delibrately obtuse "You tell me!"
Arisvath> Arisvath, eyes whirling, flicks his tail against the snow - impatient, muscles tensed and untensed, all eyes upon Siramyth.
Arisvath> Kiora makes another token protest, and it seems to be working; after a brief, coy look at Arisvath, the chubby gold shifts, moving to leave. Ki heaves a relieved sigh and heads to mount up ... and promptly falls back on her backside as she moves to avoid Siramyth's liftoff. She rises just enough to be spiteful, and swiftly makes her way towards the feeding grounds, leaving a very bewildered Kiora in her wake.
Cardixa snorts. "There's already so much that doesn't bode well for Istan-Fort relations, what's one /more/ thing? I say all the Weyrs just go crazy and start switching Weyrleaderships as they so please. Maybe tomorrow, High Reaches and Igen will switch. Won't /that/ be fun." Sip.
Arisvath> Siramyth heads toward the lake and feeding grounds.
"How is it here? Is it that--" once again, R'hyn's words are interrupted, as his gaze travels rapidly back to the exit to the bowl. "She just went. I really, really didn't come for this."
Arisvath> You head over toward the lake and feeding grounds.
Dragon> Siramyth bespoke Arisvath with << Flattery, truth, it's all the same. Follow me, and be quick -- no Fortian brat will get the better of me this evening. >>
Dragon> Flight dragons sense that Durreth finally realizes that stuff must be going on here, and remembers to join it. :p
Dragon> Siramyth senses that Arisvath's eyes gleam purple, whirl ever faster. << You have my word, Siramyth -- I'll be there! >>
T'ren takes a quick drink from his mug, sets it on the table and regards Finola with slightly narrowed eyes, "I guess it was," he mutters as he shoots another look towards the exit to the bowl.
Cardixa suddenly shifts, and the color rises in her cheeks. "--You know, I need to stop being right about things." Hauling hesrelf to her feet, she looks down at R'hyn. "Let's just go do it."
"Yes," agrees R'hyn, though not without a smile, as she follows Cardixa's lead. "You really do. It is /so/ going to look like Ainsley sent me, isn't it?"
"Probably," Cardixa says airily.
Finola looks baffled for all of two moments at the turn of conversation then her face lights up with a smile "A flight? Who is rising? Is it that Istan....." her words trail off and her normal enjoyment of mating flights diminishes as the healer shoots a worried look towards T'ren.
You head out the tunnel to the bowl.
Arisvath> Irhiveth is off like a shot, sailing over the little fence that leads into the feeding grounds. He'd been sort of looming out of sight for a while now, hanging out on the edge of the bowl like some weird bronze spectre. When Siramyth moves, he moves right after her, snarling almost viciously as he skims across the corner and snags some hapless herdbeast.
Kiora is settled on her bottom, looking thoroughly shell-shocked, though whenever she's coherent enough she's pretty angry, too. "She's just being greedy," she whines, hauling herself up. "She's already had her chance. This isn't fair."
Arisvath> Uncoiling like a serpent, the skeletal bronze that is Durreth lifts into the air and over the bowl to the feeding grounds. As the herdbeasts with begin to stampede and panic, he quite coolly makes his choice of prey, then takes the wherry hen off to the growing circle around the young queen.
Arisvath> Arisvath, all the more silvered in the moonlight, and against the snow, takes his time to glide through the corrals, picking his first kill at leisure. In killing, he is less leisurely, but more measured: it takes only the flick of a talon, and a snap of sharp teeth, before the creature is dying, and Arisvath able to feed upon the stoney blood.
Dr'vell comes barrelling across the bowl at a break-neck pace, slipping once and only barely catching himself with his hands in the snow. But this doesn't really slow the 40-something bronzerider, who doesn't stop till he's within earshot. "What's he doing here!" is bellowed, and his cold-reddened fingers jab in R'hyn's direction.
Arisvath> Siramyth swoops into the feeding grounds, pinning a fat wherry and digging in with glee -- she bloods the beast with relative ease. Whether it's the thrill of the consequences or the number of persuers, Siramyth's obviously motivated do things properly this time around.
Arisvath> Viasseth has gotten a bit of altitude, and circles lazily around the pen, paws and feet dangling casually and flexing every now and again as he searches for the best kill-- Ah! With a satisfied grunt, he drops out of the air with a /whoosh/, sinking his claws deep into the backside of a rather large, rather terrified herdbeast. The struggle is brief: a bite, a snap, and they're down.
Arisvath> Azouvith is cautious around the larger bronzes. He snakes in and out of the feeding pens, looking for an opening, and invitation. One of the herdbeasts breaks from the terrified pack, and he latches onto its leg, tumbling it to the ground.
R'hyn arrives following Cardixa, but immediately hurries towards Kiora, offering her a hand. "Make sure she bloods, Kiora. Be firm with her." He stops short at Dr'vell's comment, raising up his hands in defense of himself. "It wasn't intentional - my Weyrleaders sent me to deliver a message."
Arisvath> Tallerith follows the pack of males, taking care to try and stay well out of the way of the larger bronzes. He doesn't seem to be picky about what he's after, taking down the first creature he happens to spy.
It's Dr'vell's yell that really spurs Kiora into action. She fixes him with a glower, and apparently realizing that everyone /else/ has caught on much more quickly than she, she waves off R'hyn's hand and stomps towards the guest weyr. "She'll do what I tell her," she mutters. "And get away fast enough not to fuss with you lot." Suckers.
Kiora heads down the tunnel to the guest weyr.
T'ren gives a slight snort as he comes out of the caverns, just in time to catch Dr'vell's comment and R'hyn's reply, "Sure," he mutters, pacing a slow circle around the other riders, "Wasn't intentional," he echos coldly. Dr'vell is nodded at, "Good to see you here."
Cardixa is instantly shivering, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her head ducked down as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Let's just get /inside/ already," she hisses through clenched teeth. Looking up just in time to see Kiora disappear, she jogs after, glancing at R'hyn as she passes.
R'hyn withdraws his hand, his expression showing a slight disappointment as he turns to follow Cardixa. The Fort riders he ignores, though his cheeks are pink, and he's staring ahead of him rather too vacantly to look confident.
You head into a tunnel to the guest weyr.
Arisvath> Durreth hunkers over the drained carcass of his first victim, tail lashing as he eyes the plump Siramyth. A roar and he's up again, diving to snatch a young bovine away from an equally young bronze. He returns to his place to drink, head lowered and wings mantling.
Dr'vell looks like he really had every intention of punching R'hyn in the face, his fists balled up and his face red with fury (and maybe a coupla drinks). "Sharding likely story, sorry lying snaky bastard," he shouts back, then spits at R'hyn's feet as he stompy-stomps into the guest weyr.
Fortian to the bone, N'vet moves slowly and casually into the guest weyrs from his lingering outside. Knots are quickly tallied by quick glances at everyone's shoulder, and a mute challenge issues from his eyes.
Arisvath> Arisvath dispatches a second kill within mere moments of the rejection of his previous, carcass now drained. With an almost frenzied religious fanatacism, he digs in, blood splurting from arteries now exposed. He lets out a bellow - not ownership, but encouragement; Siramyth can fly all she likes, but he'll be there.
"Grow up," Cardixa barks at Dr'vell, a few residual shivers managing to shake her as she picks a wall and leans against it, one foot propped behind her. "Men are so /stupid/ when they think they're about to have sex. /Faranth/. I hate politics."
Arisvath> Tallerith dispatches his kills quickly and cleanly, an eye kept on Siramyth as he does so. His voice is kept to himself and he idly flexes his wings.
Arisvath> Siramyth is /volumptuous/. Plump has nothing to do with it. She downs another beast with a quick swipe of her claws, hauling it close and burying her muzzle in its neck. She feeds as quick as she can, doing her best to beat the rest of them to the punch. Try as they might, Siramyth's got this eating business down pat.
R'hyn, now with spittle on his shoes, looks even more frustrated and lost; he leans up against a wall, towards one end of the guest weyr, dejected. "I /really/ didn't come for this. /Really/. E'van hates me, he'd never send me to win a flight - and I really, really don't want to win..." His eyes, however, have found Kiora again, and he stares at her slightly open-mouthed.
Arisvath> Irhiveth is kind of busy being menacing and weird right now to really notice WHAT Siramyth is doing. He's glowering with flashing eyes at the other dragons, chasing one unwary brown out of his corner of the feeding grounds before he settles to blood a second critter. Rar.
"Shut up," Kiora whines, claiming the bed for herself and brandishing a pillow as if she might be able to do some damage with it. "It's not like it matters what any of /you/ think anyways, so you might as well keep it to yourselves."
Arisvath> Viasseth hovers over his victim with a mite more protectiveness and aggression than is normal for him, his wings curved, umbrella-like, over the carcass, hiding the whole messy affair from view. There's some slurping, some crunching, some grunting, and then it's a quick hop to the back of a lowing cow, and-- /snap/-- down she goes. Mm mm mm. Toasty.
T'ren seems to be straggling behind the rest of the riders, dragging his feet as he enters the weyr. He just finds a wall to lean agains, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the scene within. His face is dark, eyes narrowed, not a happy camper.
"Damn right you don't wanna win," mutters Dr'vell, aligning himself somewhere that he can watch R'hyn with a wicked ripping scowl in place. Cardixa just gets this kind of bland look, like he'd bother bantering with a mere brownrider, puh-lease. Like his dragon, he's too busy being menacing to pay the object of this little hormone-fest much attention. Rar.
Arisvath> Azouvith is curiously neat with his kill, conserving motion as his jaws coax life from the herdbeast, soft vaccuum drawing the blood into his mouth. His eyes are kept timorously on the gold, his gaze oscillating back and forth between his kill and the gold that threatens to rise.
Cardixa rolls her eyes. "You manly man, you," she mutters. "When you don't win the flight, I hope you take me. Please. Take me NOW." She pretends (badly) that she's not looking at Kiora.
R'hyn goes slightly pale. Was that a threat? He shakes his head, as if making a point to himself, and keeps his head turned away from Dr'vell, focus on Kiora.
T'ren says, "Shut it, Dr'vell," T'ren mutters out darkly, "Kiroa's right, out of our hands now." He gives a tight chuckle at Cardixa's brazen attitude though, eyes drifting towards the bed and the goldrider settled atop it."
Dr'vell quips after T'ren, "Yeah. NOW." What's that say about LATER?
"You guys are stupid," Kiora mutters lamely. R'hyn and Cardixa are very pointedly ignored, as if it will alleviate whatever problems they seem to have inadvertantly caused, and she pokes idly at her pillow.
N'tev overhears Cardixa, chuckling lowly in the corner of the cavern. His eyes narrow in concentration, focusing on Kiora. Posturing is more /important/ in the air.
Arisvath> Tallerith bloods his fill, killing and drinking, drinking and killing. He crouches back on his haunches and eyes the other males in the feeding grounds before he turns is gaze back to the gold.
Cardixa looks secretly pleased that she's managed to amuse, but becomes distracted as it becomes necessary to start shucking outer layers of clothing. "I was /frozen/ five minutes ago," she grumbles, kicking her jacket off to the side.
Arisvath> Siramyth takes out one final beast, though admittedly it's the largest within reach. Might as well be a filling last meal. She drains it rapidly, and after feigning cleanliness by snaking her tongue around her muzzle, launches into the air. Have fun, boys. Certainly the beasts are more agreeable.
Arisvath> Durreth's second quarry is discarded as easily and quickly as his first. He turns eyes that are rapidly suffusing with violet onto Siramyth before launching himself into the air after her.
Arisvath> You spread your wings and leap aloft.
T'ren pulls his gaze away from Kiora to give Dr'vell a slow, wicked grin. He doesn't /say/ anything, just gives a small shrug and then it's back to watching the young rider on the bed, shifting against the wall as the dragon's leap into the air.
Cardixa, too, falls under N'vet's narrow gaze as an option, but he studies Kiora with something more - pity. "She /has/ flown before, I assume?" The question is not direct /at/ anyone, but it allowed to float in the charged air.
Kiora sways briefly, as if Siramyth's abrupt departure seems to have caused a bit of vertigo. She mumbles something about messes, though Cardixa's question gets a snort. "I hope so, else that first batch of eggs was a nasty dream."
"A good dream, I would have thought," says R'hyn, his voice so quiet as to nearly be lost. He wipes the sweat off of his face, and finally unbuttons his heavy outer jacket.
Arisvath> Arisvath is far from the first to steady himself in the air, though he has a certain efficiency to his movement all the same. The bronze reaches with each stroke of his wings, pushing away the air as if it were an obstacle, not just a propellant. He ducks beneath a brown, tossing the poor dragon off target as the air swooshes around him and he begins to climb.
Arisvath> Irhiveth really was too busy leering to get a good jump on Siramyth. He swipes at the nearest male to himself, costing him several seconds before he's able to actually spring skyward. Dripping blood from his maw, he gives an irritated screech as he wings it after the fat - er, voluptuous gold.
Dr'vell has settled to the guarding the door. Which seems kind of irrelevant given that no one's actually about to make a break for it or anything, but - still. It's good to have a purpose.
Arisvath> Tallerith launches into the air, no where near quick enough off the ground. A rumble escapes him as he strokes the air with his wings, swerving to avoid another brown who was also slow on takeoff. He finally manages to find his rhythm, and settles near the back of the pack.
Arisvath> Viasseth was /barely/ ready for takeoff, and is already lagging, though he doesn't seem terribly concerned about it right now; stroking the air evenly and steadily, he finds a place somewhere near the middle of the pack and stays there, whuffing and snorting at any dragons who try to invade his happy little bubble. Go away.
"I would think that Istans - otherwise so laid back - would find it rather easy to, well, /lay back/." Oh, N'vet's got some wit on him.
Evening twilight disperses and the true darkness of a winter evening settles in fully. Full winds stir the air considerably, enough to send branches swaying. A few clouds dot the otherwise clear skies. The winter air is cold and bitter. A thin, seemingly permanent layer of snow and ice covers the ground. (21F, -6C)
Arisvath> Azouvith undulates and serpentines, taking to the air easily, great gray-brown wings scooping up air and not above slashing at a few who get too close. Strong lungs grunt and whuffle as air thunders through his nostrils, fueling the blood that's sent to pumping wing-muscles.
Arisvath> Siramyth continues onwards at what, for her, must be a rather laborous pace -- she's headed off as quickly as she can, determined to gain an edge before her ungainliness catches up to her. If Viasseth can't catch up, it's too bad for him, really. Siramyth's having a fine time.
Arisvath> Arisvath stretches out, streamlining himself to aid his passage through unfamiliar thermals; Fort's skies are different to his own, but for a newcomer, he's not doing too badly, you have to admit. Okay, he missed that one, there, and it pushed him off course for a moment, but he recovered, and now he's hurtling along, closer, really, than he was before, though Siramyth's still a ways ahead.
Kiora frowns at nothing in particular; R'hyn, possibly, though she doesn't seem to be paying enough attention to listen. N'vet gets a wary look, though. "Was that supposed to be funny? I don't really get it." That, unfortunately, is Ki in a nutshell.
Arisvath> Irhiveth is evidently more a sprinter than a marathon runner. He bolts, trying to make up for lost time, heedless of the whole concept of pacing himself. Buffeted a little by the cold wind, he nonetheless charges full steam in Siramyth's wake.
Dr'vell makes a comment under his breath, something to do with FORT's leaders getting into an awful lotta trouble when their bronzeriders showed up at an ISTAN leadership flight - and then some more muttering about turning the tables and Weyr Council meetings and punching someone in the nose. The nose-punching seems to carry him for some time, as he trails off on that thought, looking almost wistful.
Arisvath> Tallerith breathes easily, for now, tilting his wings just so to try and catch a bit of extra lift. Still close to the back of the pack, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him too much. Wings work to try and pull ahead, but it's just not happening.
Arisvath> Viasseth isn't out of it just yet, thankyouverymuch, and presses steadily onwards and upwards, maintaining his speed, waiting for Siramyth to tire. Though his nostrils are flaring furiously, he weaves a little to the left, his small size allowing him to slip through a space between a couple of the bronzes and take position on the outside of the pack. Whuff, whuff, whuff!
Arisvath> Viasseth isn't out of it just yet, thankyouverymuch, and presses steadily onwards and upwards, maintaining his speed, waiting for Siramyth to tire. Though his nostrils are flaring furiously, he weaves a little to the left, his small size allowing him to slip through a space between a couple of the bronzes and take position on the outside of the pack. Whuff, whuff, whuff!
R'hyn rubs his nose, maybe in response to Dr'vell - if he can even hear the other rider - but just as likely for his own reasons. He cowers, a little, beneath Kiora's frown, trying to smile warmly to make up for it. In his hands, he still has his precious scroll - though there are sweaty finger marks on it, now.
Arisvath> Durreth, once he's settled into his pace, stretches himself to increase it. Slowly he inches past Tallerith, though some distance from the older brown, with Arisvath the next in his sights.
N'tev chuckles maliciousy at Dr'vell's comments, the ghost of a laugh dying away as the dragons shift overhead.
Arisvath> Pant and strain, pant and strain. Azouvith avoids the painful cramping of muscles by gulping down lungfuls of air - not hard, when it's whipping by you. He keeps to the front of the pack, hoping for an early victory, else his reserves will bend to biology and fail.
Kiora holds the blanket close, then frowns and pushes it away when it doesn't seem to meet expectations. She looks remarkably thoughtful, all things considered, though it wouldn't be surprising if this were the one time she were actually lucid.
T'ren lets his gaze drop away from the bed where Kiora has situated herself. He's sweating, and starting to breath more heavily than he was a moment ago. Left shoulder is rubbed idly as he frowns to himself.
Cardixa glowers darkly at Dr'vell, looking for all the world as though she'd love to sock him where it hurts-- if it wasn't, you know, totally inappropriate. So she settles for using her Laser Vision until, with a disgusted noise, she returns her attention to Kiora. Mostly. (Grr.)
Plus, Dr'vell might like it.
Arisvath> Siramyth moves on ahead, unperturbed by the goings-on below -- the boys can fight between themselves and save her the trouble, really, and she'll just tilt her way a bit to the left and use her bulk to her advantage in the winds. She seems to be approaching a more leisurely pace, now that they're farther from the weyr. Or now that she is, at the very least.
Arisvath> Arisvath's not going to be beaten by some mouldy Telgar-turned-Fortian bronze like Durreth. He increases his pace, as if well aware that the competition is getting closer, and juts forward, and now, slightly to the left, smooth as anything. C'mon, Siramyth, sweetie - just keep going like this, and it won't be long now.
B'den slips in from the lower caverns, his tunic half-unfastened and hair as disheveled as if he'd been roused from bed. He clutches a limp wineskin in hand already. With one hand scrubbing the back of his neck his eyes roam over the gathered riders, finally locking onto Kiora.
Arisvath> Tallerith sees Durreth pass on one side and actually trys to work his wings faster. His breathing is laboured now, and his pace falters. No spring chicken this brown boy and it's starting to show.
Dr'vell is guarding the door, and evidently itching for a fight. He stirs out of his nose-punching reverie when someone comes in, fists at the ready, but then crumples dejectedly upon seeing who it is. He resumes his lean against the wall and goes back to glowering at R'hyn and fantasizing about whose face he can smash.
Arisvath> Viasseth makes like Arisvath and adds a quick burst of speed, pushing him ahead about another half 'length or so before he settles back into a more regular speed, his eyes blazing furiously, his legs tucked oh-so-tightly against his body.
"This is /really/ not why I came," mutters R'hyn - to himself, it seems, though it's audible enough. He's started blushing furiously, all eyes on Kiora, mouth resting slightly open -- you can almost see the drool, starting to form.
Arisvath> Totally lacking finesse, Irhiveth barrels through the motions. Smarter dragons go for aerodynamics, but this bronze keeps his front legs extended before him, talons glinting wickedly as a mute warning: Perilous. Really quite perilous.
Cardixa makes a rude noise at this, dropping her leg from the wall with a *thud* and leaning back on her hands. R'hyn's comment draws her attention, and she gives him a half-pitying, half-sympathetic smile. "You're mouth-breathing again."
Arisvath> Durreth slips when Siramyth does, but continues on when she tilts back, a thermal as his goal. He cuts straight in front of Tallerith, forcing the brown to pull up sharply lest they tangle. The bronze continues on blithely, stretching for that extra lift that the thermal supplies, and ending up closer to Siramyth than the gold may realize.
R'hyn is broken from his reverie by Cardixa, and blinks rapidly, shutting his mouth. "Oh, whoops. Thanks." He takes a deep breath - this time, through his nose - and exhales, staring hopefully at Kiora.
Arisvath> Azouvith notes - with some trepidation - that the gold seems to have settled into her paces /now/. And yet, wings keep beating, rhythmically, mechanically, the human determination pushing the draconic instinct beyond its limits.
Arisvath> Tallerith pulls up indeed, sharply even, giving a hiss as Durreth cuts him off. The situation is reviewed and the brown drops lower down in the sky, turning on a thermal to head back to the weyr in dejected defeat. His left wing is held tenderly as he lands.
"I'm just here for the company, myself," N'vet remarks drily on the heels of R'hyn's protest.
Arisvath> Siramyth has probably forgotten the bronzes are there. There are certainly more interesting things to pay attention to, like something shining in the distance, or the wind, or the cold -- her pace is steady, now, tempered by her confidence and the gleeful experience of flying so far. Just a bit farther, really, and maybe she'll be back in Ista's sun.
Dr'vell siezes the chance to make a derogatory statement about ALL Istans being mouth-breathing nit-wits, grr.
T'ren lets out a faint grunt, pushing away from the wall. He narrows eyes at B'den, giving the bronzerider a shoulder check as he stomps off to the lower caverns.
Dragon> Siramyth senses that Arisvath is warm, amid the cold -- a fluffy blanket, just hovering at the back of your consciousness. << I'm here, Siramyth. Not long, now. >>
Somebody flips a small rock at Dr'vell's head. It's hard to say who that somebody is, but she sure does look an awful lot like Cardixa.
The rock bounces off Dr'vell's head, and he puts his hand over the offended spot. Without even bothering to CHECK where it came from, he scavenges it off the floor and flicks it at R'hyn. Guest weyrs should SO not have rocks...
B'den continues to linger at the doorway, eyeing Dr'vell as one would a particularly aggressive tuber. He turns to snarl at T'ren's back as the Weyrsecond rudely shoulderchecks him, but turns back to Kiora with a snarl. Fort should be so lucky as to have him as Weyrleader.
Arisvath> Irhiveth seems to take it as a personal victory that Tallerth's dropped out. He even takes a second to preen (as much as one can preen when flying full tilt after a gold dragon, anyway), nevermind that Durreth and not himself was pretty much responsible for cutting the brown out of the running.
R'hyn gets hit on the collar-bone, and lets out a yelp that echoes in the enclosed space of the weyr. The rock drops to the ground, and, glowering, he notes, "Whoever wins, Kiora, you need to punish /him/." The rock gets flicked back again.
Kiora perks a bit as somebody leaves -- or as Siramyth nears the end of the line. That's always a plus, for varying reasons. She grabs her pillow again, peeking suspiciously over at those remaining, wary eyes fixing on R'hyn. "Who? Is somebody throwing something? I'll leave if you hit me."
"Dr'vell's throwing stuff," Cardixa says lightly. "It was totally unprovoked. I think there need to be Consequences."
Arisvath> Azouvith's wings are no longer stead - the flapping stutters, he lags and surges. But though muscles burn and twitch, he lunges forward, his neck extended in its eel-like glory, topped with a head and bulging purple eyes.
Fortunately, it's not a very big rock or a very sharp one. This time, it bounces off Dr'vell's shoulder. He bends to try and find it, but it seems to have skittered off into some shadow or another. Unfortunately, he now has no nice, safe little rock, and starts eyeing the nearest piece of furniture instead.
R'hyn waggles finger at Dr'vell, not having picked up the bronzeriders name. "Why don't both of us leave?" he suggests, to Kiora, not quite leering. "I bet we could find someplace... quieter." Okay. Maybe he is leering.
Arisvath> Durreth swings back toward the gold, stretching his neck out even farther. For the first time he essays a quiet roar - more of a grumble, really - to announce his continued presence to Siramyth. He's still here, he's not going anywhere. She might as well just give up and turn to him now.
"/Hey/," Cardixa says sharply, eyeing R'hyn, "You can't do that. It's not in the rules." Someone wrote rules?
"Learn some patience," Kiora notes. "Or else it won't be my fault if whoever won came to harass you in the morning."
"Running away with her rider will not help your dragon win the queen, Istan," rumbles N'vet, narrowly eyeing R'hyn. "Or is that how you manage it in Ista?"
Dr'vell gives N'vet a covert thumbs-up.
"Why don't you ask E'van?" Cardixa asks innocently to no one in particular.
R'hyn shrugs easily. "He's already caught her once. He can do it again. No problem." Let's ignore the worry on R'hyn's face.
Arisvath> Siramyth keeps on, pressing towards the weyr of her birth, towards comfort and heat and all things familiar -- there's just not much here for her, really. But she can't go on forever, and she falters, her mild shock causing her to dip once again as she struggles to regain her pace. Onward ho!
"Why don't you shut your hole?" Dr'vell snaps back at Cardixa.
Arisvath> Arisvath was, like, just waiting for this moment, because he's just a bit below Siramyth, and rising fast. If he just grasps on here-- well, almost. Maybe if she fell towards him, that would be better, but one way or another, there's going to be a collision at some point, but probably between any number of dragons, unless he can get in first and steal her away. Hey baby, hey...
"Why don't you pull that stick out of yours?" she spits back.
Arisvath> Irhiveth has been laboring for some time now. His pedal-to-the-metal approach doesn't seem to have served him well, as he's actually fallen back to the point that it's pretty much impossible that he'd catch Siramyth now. But he continues straining away, reaching and puffing hopelessly.
Kiora chucks a pillow at Cardixa and Dr'vell in quick succession. "Why don't you both shut up?"
Dragon> Arisvath bespoke Siramyth with << I've got you. >> His voice rises, smooth and warm, encouraging. << Just drop, and I'll grab you, and we'll be safe -- together! >>
Arisvath> Azouvith expends the last of his strength, gaining some height and diving towards Siramyth. Gravity willing she /will/ be his.
Arisvath> Durreth's managed to sneak close enough to Siramyth at this last that he has a chance. Wings spread wide to claim his territory, he reaches out for the young gold with neck and claws, tail poised to twine about hers. When she spies Arisvath and jinks left to get away from the Istan, she will be his.
Arisvath> Viasseth inhales hugely, then, and his hind legs kick out in a reflexive--and totally ineffectual--attempt to gain some thrust as he heaves forward, his innermost lids sliding protectively across his eyes. Rrraawr.
Dragon> Arisvath senses that Siramyth heaves a mournful sigh. << I miss my Istan sun, >> she murmurs. << Will you bring it back for me? >>
Dragon> Siramyth senses that Arisvath, all heat and sun, agrees without a moment's hesitation -- << Always. >>
Arisvath> Siramyth tried her best, but it's just too far to go by herself. But there's something almost better than Ista, really, born and bred in sunshine and just enough to warrant her conceiting defeat. She drops suddenly and tilts to the left, leaving herself open for just one lucky bronze: Arisvath.
Congratulations! You have been added to the ftw knot! Type '=ftw ' to use, and '+rwho ftw' to get a listing of everyone on the knot.
R'hyn goes white. Really, really white. "Shit," he says, all eloquence, before, lustily, striding towards Kiora, and the helpfully placed bed. Hah.
Cardixa /stares/ at R'hyn.
Arisvath> Arisvath grasps on to Siramyth with the reverence of a priest, gathering her in so that as they fall, descent slowed by his outstretched wings, it is smoothly and in unision. Hah. /His/.
Arisvath> Durreth scrabbles at the gold - just once, mind you. More than that would be undignified. But the entwined pair swiftly drop out of reach and Durreth heads back to the Weyr, alone.
Kiora stares, too, thoroughly bewildered. "No, it's not supposed to be you --" Though she's not doing anything to move out of his path. "You're from the wrong Weyr!" Just so that everybody's aware of it now.
Arisvath> Viasseth would definitely overshoot the mark if he'd even made it /close/ to said mark, but as it is, he's still only halfway there by the time he's managed to put on the brakes and veer out of the way, alternating between grumbling and panting. Whew.
Dr'vell kicks some stuff on the way out, like a chair, and this footstool, and that rug on the wall, and the young rider that walks too slowly in front of him, and the snow once he's outside, and a table in the living caverns, and so on.
B'den snarls at no one and everyone, flinging his elbows around quite unnecessarily as he turns to charge out the way he came in.
N'tev sneers, something about 'favoritism' on his lips. Azouvith's frustration causes his head to ache, bringing a hand to a temple. "There's a green rising in the pens, you twit. Go follow /her/." He forces his limbs to move though he does blink at Cardixa. Hatred is just another form of love, is it not?
Arisvath> Irhiveth lost a long time ago, but to have defeat confirmed is always a blow to the ego. With a big ol' roar, he pulls away to nurse his wounded pride.
"It's not /my/ fault," insists R'hyn, calmly pulling the pillow out of Kiora's reach and making with the moves. They can worry about that /later/.
Cardixa lingers maybe thirty seconds longer than would be considered appropriate, rooted to the floor until, without a word, she pushes past N'tev and out into the cold.
Cardixa disappears into the long tunnel to the bowl.
N'tev didn't get lucky here, but else where? With an unpleasant expression, he leaves the Istans to it.
Kiora makes with the, you know, being moved on, though she does manage to predict, "Everybody's /really/ gonna hate us in the morning." So impending doom can linger over them.
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