Star Stolen! News at 11!

Monaco Bay Weyr - Common Caverns
A grand stairway leads downward into the cool rock of the commons cavern, a place for socializing and relaxing, as well as an area that provides solid shelter from the seasonal storms of this area. One of the few caverns at Monaco Bay Weyr, the rock here has been worn away by centuries worth of water movement, leaving a nearly glass smooth polish over much of the room. Rocky shelves line the walls on which electric lights covered with paper lanterns rest, providing adequate illumination for the area. High above are further light fixtures, enabling a wide range of lighting options here. A natural pool occupies half of the far end of the cavern and is supplied with heated water piped in by an ingenious techcrafter. All about the room are balconies of rock with stairs leading to them and small dumbwaiters for the purpose of delivering food and drink to their heights.


Alas, there are no doors to slam open, no orchestra to launch into theme music - but there are stairs, and Jazhira takes full advantage of the grand stairway, the heels of her shoes - ankle-killers, yikes! - clacking sharply on the stone as she makes her way down one deliberate step at a time. Gone is the cheerful, bubbly weyrwoman with her simple style and honest expressions - instead comes Szeta-in-human-form - Jazhira's plump form clad in form-fitting gold and red, sparkling spangles that highlight every lush curve above and below. A broad, high collar frames a face painted in matching colors, thick curls died a fiery crimson, gathered in an exploding ball atop her head. She should look ludicrous. She probably does to some - to others, she is a party looking for a place to happen. Yeah. Okay. There's no doubt. It's happenin', folks.

Szetamirath> Szetamirath is oddly still, oddly quiet, her gaze fixed on the milling beasts as she watches them with her head canted to one side. Abruptly, her wings hitch upward and she slaps a forepaw onto the ground. « No, no, no! You stupid cow! » Fortunately, the herdbeast she's snapping at probably can't hear a word. « You were supposed to amble left. LEFT! Ugh! I am working with amateurs these days! » Tail lashing with irritation, the gold snaps at the air, then turns her attention to a wherry buck strutting majestically amongst his fens. « Oh yes, bravo - good form. »

With weyrlinghood officially over and Ysgieuth properly healed after his little.. stunt.. it is likely no surprise to find Z'tan at Monaco Bay - After all, the tropical Weyr is home to one of his favorite golds - not to mention her rider, and his daughter. It seems that he has been on the search for Jazhira already, too, as he is wandering through the Weyr for a while, eventually arriving in the caverns just in time for her grand entrance. A pause and he blinks, glancing around him as if looking for the setup for a party, and then just staring back at Jaz, jaw dropping. After a moment, there is an attempt at composing himself and he is moving to close the distance and offer her his arm. "Hey, beautiful.."

Szetamirath> Ysgieuth seems to have been on a similar search to that of his lifemate, for he is spiraling low over the weyr, quietly listening for well, something. A low rumble and he is spiraling back over the feeding grounds once more, backwinging to land well away from the milling herd - and the directing Queen, settling his wings carefully to his back and sitting rather primly as he watches her. « Are you rehearsing for something? » He asks after a moment, turning to peer in the same direction as her, curious and perhaps a bit confused as he settles his tail neatly around him. « I do not think they can hear you. But I could. »

Of course it would be /now/ that S'van is taking a working "lunch" in the common caverns rather than hiding somewhere safe. He's got a fork partway to his mouth, poised to take a bite, when the clack-clack of deliberate steps taking in (potentially illegal) shoes draws his attention and his gaze. And that gaze just… starts at the shoes and goes up from there. Up, and up, perhaps pausing at a few places in between, until he's gone past (That hair, tho!) and then drifts back to Jazhira's face. Food? Yeah, not happening any more. And a quick check-in with Aede has him swearing beneath his breathe and contemplating the door. It's the arrival of Z'tan that sort of clinches it, and suddenly the weyrsecond is making hasty preparations for his getaway, grabbing up papers and shoving them unceremoniously in his bag.

Szetamirath> Why is Aedeluth even /here/? Because there's food. And a show, apparently. And while his eyes are definitely for the gold, he'll just settle himself back and watch for the time being. No need for the spotlight, this one. He's more 'critic' than performer or director.

Amber eyes glitter, flitting over Z'tan with scarce a hint of recognition, although Jazhira's lips curve in automatic response to the young bronzerider's appearance. "A tired line, but it will do for now," she replies to his greeting, pressing her fingertips onto the offered arm as she minces down the last of the steps, the tail of her robe slinking behind her to pool upon the ground. Removing her hand once she's safely free of the stairs, she instead flicks her fingers at the young rider, all but dismissing him. Instead, her eyes fall upon S'van and his preparations, and she strides in his direction. "Oh no, my dear," she chides, throaty laughter filling her voice, "the fun's just beginning. Don't be dull." Beneath the humor, a thread of command lingers, sharpening that glittering gaze.

Lu'ka seems to have gotten distracted from his orignal reason from dropping into Monaco. That distracted in the form of someone offering to by the man a drink. Who could refuse such an offer? Not Lu'ka. After a little while, the Harper makes his way out of the bar hiding garden, half finished drink clutched in his hand. Pausing a moment, he nods agreeably to a few people before the clickety clack draws his attention to the festival clown….Um, to the young regal weyrwoman. Yea, the second one. The outragious appearance looks nothing like the woman he met a couple times before.

Szetamirath> « Of course you can hear me, » Szetamirath replies testily to Ysgieuth, whirling eyes darting briefly in his direction before she slews around, pinning an ovine with her gaze and gritting her teeth. « Everyone can hear me. EVEN YOU, YOU DUMB SHEEP! Stop SNIFFING! You are supposed to baa. BAA! BAH! » Exasperated, she whirls on Aedeluth, with his staring, judging eyes. « What are you looking at? » she demands. « Can't even remember your lines, can you? » The sneer in her voice is thick enough to chill the air.

Poor, innocent (ok, at least when it comes to flights, maybe), confused Z'tan is left at the bottom of the stairs, blinking at Jazhira's back as the goldrider abandons him. Eyes flick from Jaz to his empty arm and back, before they wander on to S'van, staring at the Weyrsecond who looks so desperate to flee the scene. And then.. "Oh.. Oh shards. Again?" And he is glancing around him in a bit of a panic, checking in with his life mate - since it went ~oh so well~ last time, before poor Lu'ka is the next target of attention, the newest bronzerider reaching to try and claim that half-drunk drink. For now, though, he'll just sort of watch Jazhira from over here.. Or whoever it is pretending to be Jazhira.

Szetamirath> Ysgieuth .. Well, Ysgie just sits there, shrinking in slightly on himself (as much as a bronzer dragon can), faceted eyes whirling a bit faster with hints of orange and red at the rebuke from Szetamirath, as if overcome by the most amazing case of stage fright. As the ovine are terrorized and the gold's attention drifts elsewhere, he slowly relaxes, creeping just a little bit - not necessarily towards the gold but towards that one pack of herdbeasts that makes a particularly good stage mark - though of course they shift awkwardly away, leaving the bronze without his point of reference.

Yeah no. Sev is just gonna see himself right on out of here. Shoving papers, grabbing for his laptop, a roll hastily shoved in his mouth and bit down to prevent the necessity of /speaking/, even if he has to flash a glance up to Jazhira at those words. BIG MISTAKE! First rule of mating flights: Don't make eye contact! "Hrm?" It's entirely unconvincing, that sound of confusion, a vague 'who me?' type expression accompanying it. But really, it's too late and he knows it. Aede is /there/, after all. Squint. A lift of his hand to rip that roll in half, hastily chewing the part left in his mouth before he declares, "They seem much more interesting," as S'van tries to dodge the attention and send it towards the foreign bronzeriders instead.

Szetamirath> Aedeluth is just here for the… no, that would be a lie. He's totally here for Szetamirath, and his attention is firmly for her as well. To the exclusion of all others, including those horrible sheep that refuse to cooperate. « Baa » he offers with a flicker of sarcastic dryness. Draconic smirk, right there.

Cold eyes are Not Amused, and neither is the frown on Jazhira's harlequin features. "I don't know," she replies, her voice a low, lethal purr. "That one," and she gestures in Z'tan's direction, "is already interested, as callow youth so often is. And the other," Lu'ka gestured towards, "has the beginnings of fascination." Or something. "But you? You would avoid me?" Plump fingers press against plumper breast as she gazes at him with feigned astonishment. "Come now, my dear, don't play coy with me. Just play with me. I promise, it won't hurt." Her laughter is low and barbed as she reaches out as if to take ahold of the Weyrsecond's wrist. "Unless you'd prefer it. Show's about to start, my dear. Come now." Convinced she has S'van firmly in tow, she gestures peremptorily to the others, clearly expecting them all to follow as she strides, heels clicking, from the caverns.

Monaco Bay Weyr - Feeding Grounds
Jungle screens in this enormous pasture on all sides, protecting the resident herdbeasts from the daily activity of the Weyr. A likewise huge run-in shelter has been built out from another bubble cavern, large enough to shelter a decent-sized herd from inclement weather. It sits broodingly over the black-paved path that leads back towards the clearing, like a gaping maw from which extends a shoulder-high stone fence that encircles the pasture as far as the eye can see.

Roth didn't arrive specifically to court Szetamirath, but now that he's here…. The bronze mass of branches and twigs settles a short distance from the beast pens, his whirling facets focused on Szetamirath as his rider seems frozen in place back in the cavern. A brief wuffle is the Fortian Bronze's only greeting to his fellow male chasers. But a soft singsong croon serenades the young gold, and hopefully settles down the spooked herd of sheep.

Ysgieuth's discomfort earns a draconic snort, although Szetamirath at least offers a grudgingly approving glance as the bronze makes his halfhearted attempt to interject himself into the show. « Improv. Excellent. You might consider working on your timing. And use props that don't wander, » she adds as she turns her gaze towards the shying herdbeasts, slapping the ground with her tail. Aedeluth's sarcasm does not go unnoticed, the gold's gaze - beginning to edge towards violet - sliding over to inspect the bronze. « Clever boy, » she purrs appreciatively. Then, abruptly, she leaps into the pen, roaring her outrage. « I DID NOT SAY YOU COULD MOVE! » And that is one herdbeast that will disobey no more, pinned beneath her claws as she glares down at it, wings mantling and eyes whirling brightly.

Ysgieuth would look rather pleased with himself, given Szeta's compliment (as it was), but then the gold is turning sharp again and he is frozen in place one more. Turning his head to watch the gold pin the beast to the ground, he offers a soft croon, as if applauding the gold's move. « Such emotion! » He tries to be positive and cheerful, even as he is turning to look from herdbeast to herdbeast, as if picking his victim, once he receives his cue.

Well, shit. S'van's expression pretty much says it all and, though there's a furtive glance for the door, he also knows when he's beat. Wrist obtained, and the six-feet-five-inch bronzerider just follows alone because what else is he gonna do? He's caught. And Aede is intent on /catching/. Sev might as well come along for the ride.

And Aedeluth? Well, he's just pleased this show has gone mobile. A quick grab of his front half hauls himself up and then a prompt launch into the air has him landing among the herd. He's quick about taking down his skill, wasting no time for theatrics and simply getting to the meat of the matter. Or the blood, as the case might bite. Bite. Suck. Growl.

Lu'ka senses the last of his drink is in danger and tips it up quickly before Z'tan can swipe it. Draining the last drops, he offers a not so appologetic grin and shrug to the other man before his gaze drifts back to the wildly dressed weyrwoman all but dragging the Weyrsecond after her. Knowing where Roth is, the man knows bolting won't work. Too late for that. Lu'ka lets Jazhira lead the way as she drags the resident bronze after her, he can't help but smirk at S'van's situation. He feet drag after them, letting a bit of distance grow for th emoment, between them and himself. A sideglance to Z'tan as he mutters "I should have grabbed a bottle." The man making a show of his empty glass before setting it on the nearest table before stepping out of the cavern.

As if Z'tan will -ever- not follow Jazhira around like a lost little puppy dog - That is something that has pretty much been established from the very beginning. And so, while S'van receives most of the goldrider's attention, he is still following along after her towards the waiting dragons, drinkless. "You should have, man, seriously." Zel mutters at Lu'ka, even as he slows down a bit as they near the dragons.

Asceorth is seen above, circling the weyr before suddenly diving down towards the feeding pens. Upon his back, his rider is cursing the brown, "What the shards??" Some mental comment is given before he curses a little more, "We don't have… I… Shards and shells…" Quickly does Z'eir undo his straps so he might slip off his lifemate's back, hurrying through the rails of the pen as the brown turns towards the shiny gold, «And a good day to you, my lovely one.» Backpedaling himself away from the pens, a hand is lifted, soon raked though his hair as Z'eir is left to glance about, gaze soon to fall upon the woman headed in his direction, his eyes widening just a little at the festive outfit she's got on. "Good day and Xanadu's greetings.." Oh, he is SOOOOO going to kill his lifemate when they get back home.

Roth stretches out his limbs and wings slowly, always a good idea before a vigorous workout. His fellow male dragons are briefly observed before his attention moves solely back to the irritated queen as she launches herself at a misbehaving beast. Poor thing was too twitchy to not draw the irate dragon's attention. Only after she's chosen her kill, Roth makes a quick choice and leaps upward towards his own snack.

As they enter the grounds, Jazhira releases her hold upon S'van's wrist, content now that the bronzerider won't be sneaking off. Casting a coquettish smile at him over her shoulder, she indicates that he - and the other riders - should join her near the fence. "Well, my sweet darling," she calls to Szetamirath, gazing adoringly at the gold, "are you ready to show us this lovely production of yours?" Alas, they missed the first act - but the second act is just about to begin. The gold, still pinning the herdbeast to the ground, glances at her rider in acknowledgement, then, quick as a striking snake, rips out the beast's throat. Jaw agape, she angles towards the belly, only to be halted by her rider's startled cry. "No, no, you're supposed to blood it! Blood it! Don't you remember the script?" « Right. Blood. Right. » With minimal reluctance, the gold drains the beast dry.

Asceorth sees that the leading lady is upon her mark, a reminder from her lifemate of the script's lines from the eaves of the stage. The brown begins to croon, a harmonious sound as he looks for his own beast to pounce. The sound rises and falls in time with the gold's actions while drinking the herdbeast dry. A production cannot be without it's music, right? A dramatic score to underline each moment of the gold's actions and lines! A quick snag of a beast as it tries to edge past the brown is made, fuel for the flight to come to be savored.

Obedient little puppy Z'tan follows along to the fence, lingering as close as he dares - though given the glowering look he gives to the other male riders, not as close as he would prefer. However, with the fence to support him, he seems stable enough as he risks pulling his gaze away from Jazhira long enough to watch his life mate's second attempt at the whole flight thing. And then, right on cue, Ysgieuth is giving a little hop towards the target herdbeast - managing to bring it down gracefully, and following the gold's loud stage directions to drain it of blood - not of meat - before he is pausing and moving in an awkward hop after another, sparing glances now and then back to Szeta, as if he is completely ignorant of the script and in desperate need of any and every hint he can get.

Lu'ka flashes an amused grin to Z'tan and gestures back to the Weyr. "I can run back and get us a couple bottle of something." Unfortunately, they have arrived at the feeding pens. It's doubtful Jazhira would let any of them slide away at this point, so instead he leans against the railing and settles in to wait out the outcome. His gaze drifts over to the curvy queenrider a time or two before Roth gets his attention with a pounce.

Aedeluth has got this, even if S'van does not. Disgrunted but resigned to his fate, the weyrsecond follows the suggestion (order?) and slides over to the fence. But he puts his back to it, leaning in feigned ease as his dragon bloods behind him. A mutter of something beneath his breath before his gaze is sliding towards the unfortunate Xanadu-brownrider as he joins the production crew. A jut of his chin will have to do by way of greeting, because whatever he might have said gets put on pause at Jazhira's stern reminder of how things out to be carried out.
ought to be carried out

Z'eir shakes his head, but moves on to stand at the rails, nodding back to S'van and the others gathered. Nevermind the flush that takes his cheeks then as he looks to the brown trying to sweet talk the gold in his own musical way. He just needed to check in with the craftmaster here. That's all. And now he's swept up into this production! A glance aside is given to Jazhira again, green eyes to linger on the goldrider before darting away again, clearing his throat a little as his hands grib the top rail of the fence.

IT'S A SHADOW, swooping in at the last possible minute, that shadow-dark hide a shift of muscle and wings and Teimyrth stalks at an almost trot to join his fellow dragonkin, to sink on haunches and wait with whirling eyes fixated on the prize: Szetamirath. Ila'den? He's slower to move closer, hands shoved into the pockets of his riding leathers, seemingly at ease despite obvious tension as the bronzerider stops short of everybody. It's Jaz that lone grey eye finds, the only one he acknowledges with a dip of his head before turning his attention onto Teimyrth.

Muzzle awash in blood, Szetamirath lifts her head, blinking her whirling eyes in astonisment at Asceorth's sudden accompaniment. « This is not a musical, » she protests, although the words are weak, interest piqued despite the havok sudden script changes can wreak upon the production. « Still - good job, » she adds, taking a longer look at the brown before sidling up next to Ysgieuth, nosing at the drained carcass he has left behind. « Excellent, » she approves - then abruptly pounces upon a nearby wherry, breaking its back beneath her weight and turning it to so much pulp. « Oh - uh. Improv. » She totally meant to do that. Almost sheepishly, she instead bloods a - well, sheep - draining its throat almost dantily before stepping back. « Whelp, that's done. » And, without further ado, Act Three! No warning, no pause, from blood to bound she goes, tossing aside the ovine and leaping into the air, her laughter rolling backwards through the gathered minds, accompanied by the trill of flutes and the sing-song voices of violins. Jazhira gazes up after her dragon, her face alight with joy. "Oh bravo, my heart." Bronzeriders and brownrider alike remain ignored for now - the star is in the spotlight!

"Well, fu—" but Sev just bites his tongue rather than continue that particular sentence, though it should be no real shock who it was meant for as his gaze is pinned on the arriving Ila'den. Because now it's a party, clearly. And enough of one that he's spinning around to put his chest to the fence instead of his back, hands to the boards heedless of the splinters it might deliver, and gaze going for Aedeluth just before the bronze launches himself skyward after the launching Szetamirath. And /now/ there is a chill down the weyrseconds back, a sharp inhale and the white-knuckled grasp of someone not at all immune to their dragon despite best efforts.

Ysgieuth understands that the spotlight needs to be on the leading lady, and the leading lady alone - and so as his second beast is blooded and dry and Szeta takes off to towards the skies, she is getting all of a moment's headstart before he is also launching skywards, each long wingstroke helping him clear the ground and more on to the aerial portion of the show. Like stagehands in the shadows, he lurks behind her, mimicking her movements, in position to lift her should that be his role. The other males are all but ignored, even if they may venture too close - after all, all that matters is the one in the spotlight. "Be careful, Ysgie.." Zel mutters uneasily, eyes glued to the young bronze as he makes his way up. "Don't overdue it, you have time.." He continues, fingers tightening on the top rail of the fence, muscles tense and worry evident in his posture.

Asceorth croons a little more, the orchestra rising within his mindvoice, «Musicals are not the only productions that need musical highlights, my darling star.» Such a charmer the brown can be when a lady is present. With his second blooded beast kicked to the side, his whirling eyes are fixed upon the gold as Szetamirath announces that she's done. Before he might question her, she takes flight, and with that, the brown leaps to the air, his wings flared to catch the air that lifts him upwards away from the ground. This is his element, the sky above, and where his size - huge for a brown - will truly set him apart. While he may wish to be in the spotlight himself most of the time, today, he leaves it for the gold. He's content to help her, to be the musical co-star to help highlight her own spot in this production. As ofr his lifemate, poor Z'eir is clutching the rail with white knuckles, trying to contain himself as his lifemate gives chase. Not where he was expecting his day to go.

Ila'den's attention snaps to S'van, those bitten off words earning a rush of low rumbling, husky laughter in response, his gaze lingering for only seconds before his attention turns back onto the dragons. Teimyrth's behind — rightfully so, letting out a roar as he jumps the fence of the pen, as he finds an unsuspecting beast to crush beneath too much weight, to rend and gore with teeth and talons, to blood with savagely wicked intent before that massive, powerful body lowers in preparation for a launch. And he does push off with wings snapping out, to beat down against the resistance of air, to climb with an equal disregard for those suitors who likewise pursue Szeta to the skies.

Roth sinks his teeth in the beast's throat, and in no time, his snack is dropped to the ground. That little beast was hardly enough to wet the bronze's throat, so he seeks out another. Tail lashes out to block the escape of his next little drink and he spins around and efficiently snaps the neck. The second is quickly drained. He's licking at the last drops when Szetamirath leaps skyward. Roth drops the carcus into a limp heap and crouches. Muscles clench before he springs up, wings flare and grab huge amounts of air. He rises as the males leap one by one in pursuit. Lu'ka watches the dragons lift up a moment, before focusing on his own dragon's massive wings pushing himself upwards after the queen. The Harper's hands begin tapping out some obscure beat in an attempt to distract himself for the moment.

Cheerful now with Szetamirath's well-timed ascent, Jazhira offers Sev the line he forgot, the word sounding odd in her laughing tone. "Don't worry," she says, patting the bronzerider's bicep, "we all forget our lines sometimes." Making a soft sound in her throat, she pats his upper arm a bit longer, clearly pleased with what she's found. Plump little fingers wander, pinching and prodding and, in general, appreciating. Oblivious to her rider's exploration of the Weyrsecond's musculature, the gold spreads her wings wide, trumpeting her joy to the sky as she soars up, up, up and away, allowing the winds to take her where they will. « Fair enough, » she conceeds to Asceorth, drifting closer to appraise the brown before rolling away, coming up instead beneath Ysgieuth, although she's there and gone before the bronze could possibly react. « Posture. » She directs the same criticism towards Aedeluth, teasingly - although, notably, she does not tempt the older bronze the way she does her youngest suitor - any more than she nears Teimyrth, although she shoots him a startled « ?!? » for his sudden entrance. Instead, she angles upwards, her tail just flipping past Roth's nose, looping through the air with abandon, dancing to the mingled orchestration of her mental music and Asceorth's.

In the air, Aedeluth is precision perfect, born to fly and pleased to display it. And while once he was foreign, now this is /home/, and he knows these currents like he knows the beating of his own two hearts and knows the mind of his lifemate. These are his skies, though he'll allow Szeta to take center stage. Dark, dry amusement ripples forth as she foregoes the ribbing offered to the younger creatures. They are summarily dismissed, though the gold is decidedly /not/. But upwards he goes, not seeking to follow precisely so much as to anticipate and move in accord; a partner of this dance, rather than the shadow that follows her. And down below? Down below, S'van is getting felt up and is caught somewhere between liking it, and wondering if he ought to move away. That glance, directed at Jazhira, says it all really; the glint of lust in grey eyes, the curl of dangerous amusement at the corner of his mouth, the subtle flex of muscles beneath skin, even as he doesn't dare move to reciprocate. Oh no. Those hands of his stay firmly rooted to the board on which they've grasped, attention flickering between Aede above and Jazhira below and all but ignorant now of the other men around him.

Distracted as he is with his concern for the wellbeing of Ysgieth's wings, it takes a moment for Zel to notice Jazhira's appraisal of S'van's wi-erm, arms, the examination drawing a glare at familiar bronzerider who is now Monaco's weyrsecond. And then, almost sulking, he is turning back to the fence, hunching his shoulders as he lifts his chin to follow the progress of the dragons overhead. Szetamirath's sudden arrival - and equally sudden departure - throw Ysgieuth off balance, the young bronze stumbling midair and taking a long moment to recover the rhythm. « Sorry, sorry.. » He offers idly, hoping to cut off any angry feedback from the star and director of this whole production. Carefully, he is back into step, playing the proper little chorus member in the background, staying in step with the other males, and letting them lead for now, as he attempts to figure out what exactly it is he is suppose to do.

Asceorth offers an allegro of notes, their tone almost amusing in some ways as he finds a rhythm with the downbeats of his wings. Up, up he goes, circling around to find him a spot in which he may keep a better view of the star in the third Act of this production. Each note that is crooned by the brown is perfect, each one to make the gold shine all the more as he follows after her in steps and twirls to not call attention to him, but to her, to Szetamirath, the golden one. Taking another glance at those riders gather, Z'eir watches as Jazhira feels up S'van, a brow lifted for a moment. He might have been tempted to speak up, but in the end, he says nothing, instead, tilting his head back to take in the dragons above.

Teimyrth's mind brushes back against that surprise with a flurry of winter winds, snow-spattered and infinite, a hint of posessive intent that the eldest bronze present does not deign to formulate into more coherent thought. It's the feeling: that he will catch her, that they will fall, that he will be victorious in this dance. The lumbering bronze is not the most graceful beast in the skies, nor the most aerodynamic, but he moves with a finesse that bespeaks experience, rides currents that take him higher and help spare him stamina as he joins in that graceful dance, as he tries to find the right placement within suitors without getting close enough to risk his own success by way of claws. And Ila'den? Well, his focus is on his own bronze, on the other dragons in the sky and pointedly not on wayward hands or the weyrseconds they scour. See? Ila'den has some manners, even if there's tension humming in every single inch of the 'rider's body.

Roth scissors his wings repeatedly til he climbs higher in the sky. Only then does he take a moment to stretch wide sails to either side and glide across the stage. Szetamirath makes the rounds to each member of her production, the tip of her tail barely brushing past his muzzle cause the Fortian bronze to give a hint of a sneeze. The action making his branchy self seem to 'stutter' through the air for a second before his wings resumes huge swings up and down. « I am Roth » The bronze grabbing air and pushing himself forward with each passing second. Lu'ka gives his head a slight shake, trying to shut out everything around him for the moment. Thankfully, Jazhira is further down the fenceline toying with the Weyrsecond. Hopefully she won't go all stabby stabby before this is all over. His tapping against the rail continues, occasionally switching tempos as if he's simply backing up someone else's tune.

Approving, Jazhira leans in closer to S'van, grinning up at him. "You're so much more fun when you're not boring," she purrs to the bronzerider, giving one last pat - and grope - to his arm before she wanders off, fingers trailing down behind her. Seeing Z'tan's sulking gaze, she gives a soft gasp, hands flying to painted cheeks, then dashes forward to give the bronzerider a smacking kiss. "Cheer up, my dear! Everything is going swimmingly!" Before the bronzerider can grab ahold, she slides away, dancing on those ankle-breaker heels in Lu'ka's direction. Although her gaze is appraising, she bypasses the Fortian for now - a whisper, perhaps, of Kith and Quinn in her mind. Instead, it's Ila'den she fixes her gaze on next, fascination in glittering amber eyes as she approaches him. Above, Szetamirath mirrors her rider, flirting between bronzes and brown, never quite drifting close enough to ensnare, but never quite accepting that her bulk does not quite lend itself to the aerobatics practiced by her friend Kith. She may not be able to dance with quite the abandon of her smaller sisters, but she's giving it her all - evinced, perhaps, by the drag of her breath and the tremble of her wings as her stamina - great though it may be - bleeds away. Rolling away and upwards, she angles towards the water, wings beating faster and harder as she seeks to gain some distance between her and her suitors; enough, perhaps, to give her a precious moment in which to consider her choices - varied and fascinating as they are, there can be only one co-star for the sunlit queen.

Maybe Sev would say 'thanks' if he wasn't too busy shooting side-eyes toward Aedeluth in the air. But still, there's that grin of his, and that wicked light in his eyes that promises oh, /so/ much fun. But no. There are no words, just a subtle lean in her direction before she's ditching him. DITCHING him. Rude. Rude enough he's going to give chase even as Aedeluth turns his attention towards closing the distance, sliding through the air and avoiding conflict where he can. The brown and bronze that chase alongside? Ignored. Come close, and get bit. Stay away and you're dust to him. His eyes are for Szetamirath and her dancing, for that little tremor and stutter that is the silent cue that NOW is the time to move. And move he does, throwing himself through the air and at her with a single-minded focus to catch her in his wings, — his limbs, his neck, his tail — to take that star for his own.

Caught up in Ysgieuth, Z'tan is caught completely off-guard as Jazhira is suddenly there, and there is a kiss and she is gone again before it even registers for him - and so he is left slouched against the fence, dumbfounded, confused, and at least for the moment quite frustrated. Especially as the flight seems to draw to its climax far above, as Szetamirath's solo draws to a close and it is time for someone to step up and carry her through to the curtain call. And so, there is a bit of jostling - perhaps a firm nudge if necessary - and Ysgie is attempting to work his way free of the pack, dropping a shoulder to bank after the gold. As they near the water, it seems the time to dance his heart out is now, and there is an aerial audition for the ages as he climbs towards her, sneaking in from below to try and catch her - to lift her higher - and carry her through to the encore.

Asceorth seeks the heights above, his large brown form showing a hint of daredevil grace in the way he keeps up with the larger gold. Still he keeps up his musical accompaniment, the orchesta's fanfare taking on an accelerando of sound. First one, then another, faster and louder as the gold's aerobatics gain their peak. With a roll of his own, the brown attempts to position himself, his espressivo croon reaching out to her as well, tempting her to choose him as her co-star. Choose him, and they can create the perfect production with walk-ons, villians, ingenue, and the star of it all, Szetamirath herself. Far below, Z'eir tenses as Jazhira steps away, though thankfully, there's still a few riders between he and she.

Jaz, you shoulda just left Ila'den to the dragons. There's something feral, something dark and insidious that comes to life in that grey eye the moment the goldrider catches his attention; the bronzer's posture changes, a shift of his body that speaks to agitation and fraying, tenuous strands of restraint snapping with every. single. step. He's ready, like Teimyrth is ready. The eldest bronze finds an opening, sees an opportuny and he seizes it with a sudden burst of movement, with claws reaching, strainging, aiming to catch without colliding into bronze or brown (or blue!) hides by mistake. There's a single minded focus, a snarl as he makes his grab and Ila'den takes an ominous step towards Jazhira.

Roth trails after the star of the stage, much like the other males as each tries to hit their marks at the proper time. His wings tilt or dip according to Szetamirath's lead, following her dance as she gracefully taunts each of her suitors. In a blink the starlet goes off script and heads for the water. He didn't get those pages evidently. But none the less, Roth rolls over to follow. A couple of other dragons seem to be closing on the queen, launching or diving as they try to steal the leading lady. Wings seem to grow just a bit longer and his chest heaves like a bellows to close the distance. Talons stretch out and he dips a wing to cross her path as he tries to steal Szetamirath away so they can go over some lines.

Shame that Szetamirath isn't blue. Teimyrth might have stood a chance. As it is, good must win the day for this to be a proper production, and the villainous bronze is evaded with a hiss and a disapproving, « Naughty, naughty. Evil never prospers, my dear. » At least, not this time. And although Asceorth's music draws the gold's attention and approval, she rolls away from him, leaving him to carry out his solo role with her quiet approval echoing in his mind. Roth's sudden appearance causes her to backwing, allowing the bronze to overshoot even as her following « Learn the script! » chides him. No - she's made up her mind, wings outspread as she drifts down towards Ysgieuth, quite prepared to reward the bronze for his earnest, if bumbling, performance. Intentions, however, are nothing to the whims of fate, and even as she stretches towards the younger bronze, she finds her wings fouled, her tail and neck tangled by a dragon that is most certainly not her chosen leading man. « How dare you! » is about all she can choke out, before she's lost to Aedeluth's embrace and the demands of nature. Okay. So, it's the anti-hero. Fair enough.

Aedeluth's just a dick like that, and if he weren't too busy claiming Szeta as his own, there might just have been a sassy and all too sarcastic, « LATER SUCKERS » tossed towards the less fortunate. And Sev? He'll just follow suite and snatch Jaz right off her pointy, ankle-breaker shoes to have his wicked, wicked way with her. Mwahahaha. Doom.

So close! She is so close! And then, there is that -other bronze- getting in the way, and Ysguieth is left with nothing but air, the bronze spiraling back towards the feeding grounds, rumbling confusion as he finds a place to land long enough to gather up his also confused rider, the newest rider finally letting go of the fence to stumble towards the bronze and flee - though not like he won't be back for Jaz later.

FURY! It comes on a blizzard, answers taunts with roar that rips free from the bronze physically. But his fury lasts only as long as he descent back towards the ground, empty handed. And Ila'den steps back, clenches fists but perhaps manages to look relieved as his lifemate finds purchase on the ground with a snarl, as he shakes out wings and neck as if to dislodge the frustrations of flightlust that plague his rider as Ila'den closes his eye and forces himself to step backwards, to remove himself from that hellish pull, to abandon those others to their own defeats while he comes to terms with his own.

Well, she had been going to visit Ila'den. Really, Jaz is still just a bit fascinated by the older man, her amber eyes aglitter as she paces a step closer, two - then whirls, staring in mute astonishment at S'van. "Well, I never!" That's all she has time for, before she's launching her plump, besequined self at the Weyrsecond, just in time to meet his snatching grabby hands. "Hi!" Wicked? She'll do wicked, yep. There'll just be a lot of laughter too.

Roth roars his annoyance and frustration as Szetamirath suddenly swoops right out of his reach. Before he can do anything about it, the Diva is stolen from the stage completely. With no more lines to give, Roth glides off tomeet up with his rider. Lu'ka barely glances around to Jazhira and the other riders before slapping his hand against the railing and jogging off to console his dragon.


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