2014-10-07: Tzavayth Picks a New Mate (Tzavayth Rises)

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.

It's drawing on towards evening at Monaco Bay Weyr, not that one could tell that near the feeding grounds. The lithe, pale form of Tzavayth is glowing brightly in the retreating light and Fi is, well, a touch drunk. This is hardly usual for her, but the petite WeyrWoman of Monaco is sipping down wine as Tzavayth paces near the feeding grounds until she finally snaps, "If you're going to blood, blood, shard it. You don't have to wait on the boys, they'll show up. It's not like anyone but Vrath will catch you, anyway."

It's supposed to be a business call, nothing more. But, it comes as no surprise that Mephixath has ulterior motives and a grim-faced B'haal is forced to hastily handle the rest of his delivery lest the bronze beast's plans see themselves to completion. Mephixath himself has wasted no time in hooking some poor beast for the blood; entrails are strewn in archaic patterns and arranged, just so, with his claws until he's satisfied. Those whirling, rose-madder eyes are locked onto the gold alone with equal measures of assessment and intrigue. And B'haal? He grunts as he approaches the fence, with a sidelong look angled to the wine-drinking Weyrwoman. "Ierne Weyr's duties," is just a formality, but important, nonetheless.

A spiraling bronze spec is seen winding downwards towards the feeding grounds. Duties had brought this out of weyr rider to the Monaco Bay Weyr area and while his intention wasn't actually to visit the weyr proper it seems that plans have changed. Close enough to sense the change impending upon the weyr it brings another to the mix. Landing just outside the feeding ground the tarnished bronze deposits his rider impatiently. Without waiting for his dark red straps to be removed he is already hopping towards the creatures penned off. St'phen approaches, looking to be a dark skinned man in his mid thirties and the colors of High Reaches adorn his shoulder the knots indicating his status as WingSecond. Black eyes scan the area and the others here. "High Reaches duties." he offers in his pleasant baritone.

There are plenty of dragons around, many have been watching the dear Tzavayth waiting to see if she would take to the air, and to jump into place to be part of it. One of those is Draukaith, the large bronze is settled upon a slight outcropping that gives him a vast field to look out on, and once Tzavayth was heading to the feeding rounds he is following. He glides down to the pen a few moments after the gold has landed and there is a bugle of greeting offered while he merely pins a beast down with a front paw and is standing there about its kicking and bucking form before ending it's life with a quick crunching of bones. T'revs is nowhere near the feeding grounds, why? He was planning a trip out of the Weyr for one night and it seems he was just a night to short it seems. It'll take him a few moments to actually get out to the feeding grounds.

Marzoth has been lurking around the weyr, really lurking. He has kept himself in the shadows for the better part of the last day. Anyone lucky enough to have bumped into him has been met with a his or a warning rumble. Indeed he has not said a word either to his lifemate or any other dragon for about the last 12 candlemarks. His self imposed exile is coming to an end as the dark bronze, wearing his dark goggles appears at the edges of the feeding ground looking every inch the predator he has become. He has trouble sitting still and begins to pace back and forth like an irritated feline. His rider, rather unwillingly, has been dragged along for the ride. He offers a salute to his weyrwoman, "I'm so sorry…" is all he can manage to say, "Just wanted to get that out there." For he isn't sure how long he will have the ability to speak. Marzoth's back and forth pacing comes to an abrupt end as he too bursts forth and latches onto one of the beasts.

"See, I told you." Is Fi's acerbic rejoinder to her lifemate before the gold slinks over the fence, crooning flirtatiously at all of her lovely suitors as she plucks up one buck, latches her teeth onto its throat and sucks it dry. Fi is, at least, luck that Tzavayth has no trouble blooding. On the other hand, she shares the experience and it's one she likes. A lot. Fi shudders and throws back more alcohol, nodding mutely to the riders as they approach. As Tzavayth yoinks her second beast, though, a bit of panic sets in. Where's S'rok?

There's a low grunt from the visiting Iernian rider and he cants a look toward the apologetic rider. "Don't apologize for the inevitable." B'haal glances over the fence at the beast that's presently working on his second kill - it's a swift one, but goes immediately to waste. The bronze does not drink from it, instead focusing his attentions on organizing the limbs and innards in a way that must serve some purpose for him. His wings mantle and he's braced and ready, experience clearly writ in his movements. And those eyes, oh how they -burn-, seized on the queen as they are. And if his smoke-laden thoughts should creep into her mental space, so be it.

Darrienth croons sweetly to the Golden beauty with warm thoughts cascading from his mind to lightly touch hers. It's only a moments touch though before he's focusing on the task at hand which is blooding the much needed blood to give him the required energy to win. With eyes whirling quickly edged in red he takes down his first kill cleanly. His rider can only stifle a groan as he makes his way to stand a few paces away from Fi. His own eyes might not be glowing but his fists clench and unclench as he nearly feels the warmth of the blood trickling down his own throat.

Draukaith doesn't waste any time and is quick to drain one beast before moving on to another. Rich rumbles and croons escaping him all the while. His gaze is settled upon that lovely golden hide while the others are joining in, which he doesn't even pay attention to honestly. Though that may change at any given moment as this goes on. His form shifts, a swirl of clouds and lighting forming in his mind while the waves start to crash upon themselves. It takes T'revs finally reaches the pens once Drau is starting to work on his third kill.

Marzoth finishes his work, and that is apparently sufficent to his cause for he does not kill again but instead stands as tall as he is able and lets his eyes bore into the queen. They are glowing a mix of orange and red beneath his goggles. His wings unfold from his back as he stretches them readying himself to take to the sky the moment the queen does. The dark forest of his mind is pitch black and the usual wind blowing through the leaves has grown still. It is the calm before the storm. The other chasers are ignored. They don't exist. It is he and the gold. That is all that matters. S'dny can only shrug his shoulders, "First time." is the strangled response he gives, and that should help anyone understand the anxiety involved. Though that anxiety is slowly fading as the bronzes thoughts creep slowly into his mind. Syd looks to T'revs as he arrives and nods to him with some effort. In Marzoth's chest there is a rumble from deep inside signifying his readiness.

"Tzavayth, you can't! Vrath's not here!" But Fi's plea is totally lost on the gold who simply doesn't care, any dragon strong enough to catch her is worthy enough. Tzavayth rears up on her hind legs, bellowing her challenge to the gathered before pouncing on a third beast. Fi groans softly and presses against the fence as if that could keep her safe from the inevitable. Years she's been riding, but some things will always terrify the craftbred girl within her.

"Stay focused," is for S'dny. B'haal cuts a sidelong look to the lad. "And let him fly. You'll come out alright." There's an acrid-sounding rumble from Mephixath after those words, however, and the beast slashes a glance to his rider with a thin snarl of aggravation. His rider meets that look easily enough, if with a hardening of his own visage. And then it begins. Muttered is a flat, "Make no promise you cannot keep," from B'haal, while the bronze beast surges skyward in pursuit. Those smoke-filled thoughts twist ever-outward, tantalizing in their exotic sweetness, a temptation of the mind - and they're all for Tzavayth. All for her.

Two beasts down. Darrienth growls as he crouches low over his latest kill. Lashing his tail from side to side he remains protective over it while he watches the glowing beauty. Eyes only for him much like St'phen who steps closer to the Weyrwoman. There's a challenge in his stance as he watches the others.

Dragons don't tend to listen to the pleas from their riders,if so they would all be in other areas at the moment for T'revs still had plans, which he is going to have to hope someone will forgive him over it as he has no choice in the matter right now. The Wingleader is quiet, a glance snapping around to see who is here before a simple nod is sent to S'dny and then to the others.. Well this is an interesting position they happen to be in. He catches sight of Fi, and well there is not S'rok here which means this could be turning into a different sort of flight all together. At that challenging look from St'phen he is just left eyeing the other rider while he stands up to the fence at Fi's other side and will be there to make sure that stranger behaves it seems. Draukaith lets out a deep bellow, it turns into a bugling call to Tzavayth, he is here and he will be proving himself tonight! A forth beast is felled and he works on draining it dry, this won't be an easy flight and he knows he'll need all the energy that he can get.

S'dny sends a glance Fi's way as she clearly feels some of the same anxiety that he himself is feeling, or was feeling…he finds his own thoughts drifting slowly away. Makes a motion to try to speak to offer some words of comfort. He was always so good with words, but in this moment no words come. He can't make his mouth move. In those frantic last seconds of him as fully himself he turns his mind to Innes and just holds her in his mind for as long as he can. It isn't long. He begins to share some of the feral look that his dragon shares with him. The pair are one. Marzoth practically vibrates in place. From the center of his dark forest there is a rumble as the creature that resides therein emerges with a howl. A dragon of darkness, a creature of smoke at flame, takes to the sky of his mind. There is no flirting from Marzoth.

Talk about last moments! L'ell and his bronze Brakth skid to a landing outside the pens, the dragon practically shrugging his rider to the ground as his eyes whirl a lusty red. A few seconds have the bronze free and vaulting into the pens to pounce first a herdbeast then a wherry, killing the first then the second, then hoarding them to himself as he bloods like a madman. No time! The hulking figure of his beefy, 6'6", blonde-haired lifemate can't help staring at blooding Tzavayth, then turn his blue eyes to Fi. There's desire in there, but not only for the females themselves…but the position of Weyrleader.

Tzavayth tosses that third and final beast towards the bronzes and bellows again before broad wings and strong legs thrust her into the skies. Wisps of cloud catch on the pale hide as she shoots into the low-hanging gatherings of water vapor, driving herself up up up into the skies, sending strands of vibrant silks from her mindvoice back to her followers, just the faintest caress to draw them forward.

Nevermind that seizing of the sky before; 'twas nothing more than a tensed preparation for that claiming of air. Mephixath remains poised and ready until the queen rises - but those smoky tendrils continue their insinuations all the while. No promises, no - and certainly nothing he can't keep. Yet. His two kills - one drained, one not - remain at his feet in their meticulous and grotesque patterns, while his rider's eyes remain on -him-. There is no attention paid to the Weyrwoman; nor any need. The bronze is doing well enough in ensuring his attentions are keen enough on the queen for the two of them. Watching. Waiting. -Anticipating-. And, this time, when she -does- rise, he follows with a sinuous working of his serpentine self.

It's time! The High Reaches rider tenses up with his head snapping upwards at the first launch of the queen. Simultaneously his bronze roars a loud challenge to all those around him as he springs upwards in hot pursuit. Bronzed wings beat quickly at the air to gain altitude after the golden queen.

He's only half-way through blooding his second kill when sexy siren Tzavayth bellows then makes for the skies, Brakth not bothering to vocalize as he heaves his lanky form right after the gold. Mmm… that mental carress feels so damned nice that he'll echo it back with the intoxicating scent of tropical fruits and flowers to the glowy lady, the pale bronze's long wings beating the air to try and keep him close. On the ground, the human called L'ell slips just below the surface of his dragon's mind, holding on to his identity only with effort, steely blues fixed on Fi, since she's still -here-.

Draukaith tosses the last of his kills to the side and he is moving upwards after Tzavayth as he sees her moving up to the sky. A deep bugle escaping him that rattles and echo's across the weyr. His mind is a storm, waves are crashing upon one another, lightening flashes in the air above the sea of his mind. His wings sending him high into the sky to follow after that golden hide. T'revs is quiet with a faint breath escaping him as a quick glance is sent to Fi whom he is letting his gaze linger upon for a few long moment before he is looking back to the sky.

Last moments indeed! Marzoth kicks with his leg and at the same time flaps his wings that so kindly send him aloft. He lets out a roar of excitment. Some of of that energy has to be let off or he feels he might burst. The dark dragon in his mind shoots fire from his mouth sending it downward toward the trees setting them alight. A crackling of burning wood can be heard and the smell of smoke rolls out in waves from his mind. And Marzoth /feels/. Oh he feels so much! All of those emotions that he represses day in and day out bubble to the surface like bubbles of air on a pond. Anger, joy, apprecition of beauty for its own sake, peace, and others besides. Yes in this moment the dragon is fully alive and sees the world in a way that he has not seen before. He shoots off after the gold with a sense of purpose that he has not felt before. The night belongs to him and this night shall be his! S'ndy is no longer himself and looks wildly around trying to surprise a wild laugh that is clawing its way up his throat. He fails and his laughter rings out.

Tzavayth twists midair, spiraling up a thermal before letting the wind carry her out over the lush forests around Monaco Bay Weyr. While the men reach, talk, and posture, Tzavayth is content to simply fly far, fast, and high above them. When one cloud tries to bar her way, she spins through a tight roll, busting it to pieces before diving towards the treetops. Catch me if you can, boys!

She's beyond beautiful; Tzavayth is graceful, too! Brakth can't help but voice the deep, intricate croon upon warm air at the sight of the gold rolling ,punching through that cloud above him, her own efforts inspiring his own flight further with as strong, slightly narrow wings carve the air with powerful strokes. Keep that up, babe, and he'll be handing his hearts on a platter to you! His rider is grinning by this point, intoxicated by his dragon's delight and need to capture the queen, his gaze remaining glued to Fi. Delicious.

Darrienth has some experience catching Golds in his days so for now he is content to stay right in the middle of the pack as they all drive forward with just one goal in mind. What goes up must come down and he knows that while she continues to rise and twist higher in the air he also knows she'll tire. Putting on a burst of speed he delves into his energy recklessly to drive forward and higher towards this moments heart desire. His rider inches forward slowly with his own gaze upon the prize of Fi.

Oh, those thoughts. The smoke is laced with silk, shapeless reassurances and promises just starting to coalesce in the spaces between Mephixath's mind and Tzavayth's. He keeps his distance, all but slithering in the sky, a shadow below the knot of chasers. The better to spare himself the risk of injury; the better for him to continue weaving those curious webs of his. His positioning is methodical; his pace perfectly calculated. His passion is physically muted - to fully fall prey to his basal urges would be folly - but not in the mind. The longer the flight goes, the thicker his thoughts; layer upon layer of would-be oaths and might-be promises are issued for her consideration and perusal. She might be falling for the trees and he's in a prime position to pounce - but not yet. He puts on a kick of speed, just a little, just in case - for that fine web of words will not be enough to catch her alone.

Draukaith has chased gold's before, he knows to last as long as he possibly can and this is that night that he will hang on through thick and thin that is for certain. He will follow after Tzavayth, a deep bugle escaping him, his calls and songs are heard throughout the whole weyr, they know indeed who is chasing tonight, he always puts on a good song and dance! His wings pull close while he dives through that cloud, a loud bugle escaping him once more as he breaks through the cloud. His mind reaches out to Tzavayth, the stormy sea is there but there is a slight breeze that picks up and swirls around, soft and sweet yet eager, eager to wrap around the gold much like the bronze is. T'revs clears his throat slightly, his eyes closing tightly for a moment while he is getting pulled in to this more then he wants to at the moment. With his fingers digging into that fence he is pulled back to look at Fi, watching her closely, a lingering look, a wanting one that he will not enjoy that he did once he comes to his senses later on.

Marzoth is not yet ready to try anything fancy. He will wait with patience until the moment is right. His wings beat against the air around him as he flies hard and fast toward Tzavayth. Keeping himself as much as he is able in close range so that when the time comes he will be in the perfect position to snare her. In his mind his forest continues to blaze and the creature therein uses hot wind from the flames to fly ever higher. It is a thing of primal and raw emotion. Oh how alive the dragon feels! That wheel of emotion just continues to spin haphazardly, and falls on a new emotion…hatred…yes deep hatred. He notices the others. The others who threaten to keep him from his goal and his mind burns. The primal creature within howls. The fire now burning hotter and hotter. Marzoth can almost feel the flames licking at him and they impel him forward. Ever forward. S'dny has gone largely catatonic and just sort of wobbles in place, eventually reaching out for the fence to keep himself right. He looks with hatred on these others who stand nearby. The laughter dies and a hiss rises in his throat.

Tzavayth hisses a challenge back under her wing at the bronzes, but even as her pride grows, her energy starts to fade, her wingbeats come a little slower and she falls back towards the others. One last burst of speed gets her to the next thermal and up further, higher into the sky, but she's still lagging now, each wingbeat a little slower than the last.

There. That. That's precisely what Mephixath was watching and waiting for. He codifies those reassurances and oaths, every last promise congealed into an intoxicating twist of thought. And all she must do is fall into his clutches - or, at the least, slow down enough for him to make his move and guide her to his offerings. The serpentine bronze lances forward and twists up as deftly as any tunnelsnake, striking as quickly as he can. But will that web of his promises suffice to arrest her thoughts so that he might capture her in the flesh? That remains to be seen. And never-you-mind that distant mental rattle of a chain drawn taut - that's neither here nor there.

She's there before him! So close! Brakth warbles his tropical excitement as he extends neck, stiffens his tail, and arches his digits, straining towards that dulcet, gold beacon of sexiness that is Tzavayth. Come to pappa, sugar! Who cares if he crowds or is crowded by other males? He's THE BEST, after all! She should be able to -feel- his steamy, tropical night seeking to close about her, by now, those exotic blooms that open only after dark in the Southlands all for her. As for L'ell…he too is reaching for Fi in his own way, moving as if through winter molasses while his arms open wide.

Despite his burt os speed that propelled him forward, Darrienth's energy soon flags quickly. Unused to the air thermals over the tropical weyr he losses ground too quickly. With a high pitched keening wail he falls back too far to be of challenge any further. Disappointed he spirals downwards slowly.

Draukaith can feel the others behind him, they are getting closer, oh so close all of them but no.. This is his night, he feels it in his very core and he lets out a deep rumble of a growl towards the others, and most likely Marzoth as well, though more than likely that bronze is the one he sends most of his anger towards, this is a show for him and he will prove that he is worthy this night! His call turns back into that rich bulge within a second flat as he answer the challenge from Tzavayth, flashes of light flicker across his mind while that wing picks up once more and sends the waves into crashing peaks. He is able to hit a thermal, wings extending fully to take advantage of it and with a hard flap he is reaching out with a taloned forepaw to grab hold of Tzavayth and bring her close to him, plucking her if able from the other males that are making a grab for her. T'revs feels a catch in his throat, a twitch across his arm and his fingers grip tightly at that fence before he lets go of it and is actually finding himself leaning closer to Fi. The other riders are given a glare and a glower, warning them just like his dragon is doing up in the sky at the other males around him.

The time is growing short. Marzoth can hear the thudding of his pulse in his ears as the chase nears its inevitable conclusion. What goes up must come down in the end. And what begins must end. The dance is growing tiresome anyway. He pushes thoughts of the others out of his mind as he readies himself to make his final push. It's now or never! This is his moment of triumph, he can feel it in his bones. The creature in his mind glows hotter and hotter as the forest below is reduced to ash. It will rise again, but not tonight! Marzoth lets himself be engulfed in the flames as she surges forward. There are no words. No offerings. His actions will have to speak louder than words. He swoops forward reaching to catch, but will it be enough? On the ground Syd looks upwards very much gone now. Yes. This ends. Now!

Tzavayth bellows her denial to the skies as Draukaith manages to capture her, but soon submits to him, neck and tail twining while below, Fi beats on T'rev's chest as he draws nearer. NOT S'ROK! She's one with Tzavayth, though, as well, and eventually her fingers twine into his shirt, dragging him towards her Weyr for the exciting conclusion of this excursion. The morning is going to be… interesting…

The chain pulls - and Mephixath utters a -howl- of rage. His wingbeats pull up short, as if he's been physically yanked away, and he whips around with a baleful glare to the ground below. The beast shudders with another bone-deep hiss and banks sharply, wheeling away toward parts unknown - and leaving his rider to slip off, as unseen as possible, to seek solace of his own.

NOT him? What, is she nuts?! Brakth bellows his upset at the entwined pair, the concedes his loss, the lanky bronze spiralling down towards the ocean - as always - to ease his abraded nerves. His rider, meanwhile, staggers to a halt, stares both in surprise and anger at Fi and T'revs, then pivots on a boot heel and stalks grumpily out towards the living area. Surely there'll be some happy person or another more than willing to help L'ell slake his own needs.

Draukaith knew he would win, he felt it, he dreamed it and he made it happen. He bugles and rumbles out with Travayth while his neck and tail twines with hers while his forelimbs wrap around her protectively, his wings stretch out as he sets into a glide to take them down safely. T'revs doesn't even look surprised, no none of that here while his hand grabs hold of Fi's even as he is getting beaten on the way up to that Weyr. He isn't actually getting dragged as he is taking that walk with almost eager steps. Of course the next morning is going to be interesting, he will be in shock for certain!

Marzoth is left empty clawed! How could this have happened? How could he have failed? And how could it have been Drau beat him. His eyes glow a deep shade of red as he regards his fellow chasers. No sound of rage leaves his throat. In fact no sound leaves him at all. It doesn't need too. The look on his face says it all. This is a bronze who is in a positively dangerous mood. Anyone who gets too near will find themselves at the end of his claws. The look given he is off like a shot to his wear. S'dny for his part is like a man awaking from a dream. Thank goodness! There is justice in the world. It wasn't him. He is saved! He flees like a man on a mission, headed toward the beach and the tavern!

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