2014-10-15: Isanath's Flight

Monaco Bay Weyr - Cove Beach
The darkling black of the sand merges with the crystal blue of the water, creating a brilliant and playful blend of color that fluctuates by sunlight and moonlight. The cove spreads from the mouth of the river towards the ocean, mixing saltwater with fresh for an invigorating rush that is teeming with life.


Public Announcement from Aliona: Gold Isanath is is going to be rising at Monaco in 15 minutes. Head to the beach if you want to take part. Flight is NOT predetermined, and will result in an NPC clutch.

Even in the beginnings of winter there's little can mar a beautiful Monaco evening. The stars are bright, only blocked from view by the occasional cloud that skips across the sky, and the moonlight shines down on a rather forlorn looking figure on the edge of the beach. Aliona sits there wrapped in a blanket, chin resting on her upraised knees as she stares into the distance in silence. In complete contrast there is a happy warbling coming from the shallows as Isanath, the usually prim and proper gold, is playing in the water and jumping the waves as they roll up onto the dark sands.

A short up distance up the beach from where Aliona sits, S'ic leans back on the beach his saxaphone in his hands as he plays softly looking up to the stars above. His bronze curled up in the sand near by. The rider harper seems lost in his music as he plays.

In the darkness, a man and a bronze quite familiar to Aliona and Isanath appear, the bronze slipping down the beach in a low glide, backwinging gently to avoid showering the young woman with a tornado of sand, settling down with his tail curled around his frame, nose turned to the splash of orangey gold amongst the lengthening evening shadows. S'u, meanwhile, takes a slightly longer moment to close the distance, though he hovers a short distance away, hesitating before finally speaking. "Hey, Ali.. Tso's all settled for the night." He offers, even as his eyes drift from rider to dragon, then to Tzettenvonth in turn, tilting his head as they talk, a frown appearing briefly on his face, before he turns back to Ali. "Is.. Are you.. I mean.." And he trails off, digging the toes of his boots into the sand with a nervous sigh.

It should have been just a business call - but, it seems that B'haal just isn't allowed to have a pleasant delivery anywhere, even at night. Not with Mephixath, anyway. While the rider hastens to finish his delivery, the bronze is occupied with hunting down the one that summoned him here, knowingly or not. His prowl is predatory, his gait evocative of serpentine undulation for the curve of his tail and sway of his spare form. His much better half will be along in time but the beast is satisfied to have time alone to bear witness. To watch. To wait. To calculate.

With the coming of the evening Marzoth is able to have his goggles removed and he can once more look upon the world unassisted by exterior means. He can be /normal/ once more. He feels most at peace in the dark. He makes his way with a quick gait along the beach path. Once more the creature that lives in the dark forest of his mind hastens to be set free. He plunks himself on the sands and stares the beach up and down once before his eyes settle on the gold in the water. Once more untot he break dear friends. Syd is not far behind and sighs as he walks to his dragon's side, "You don't have to do this. You could walk away now. I wouldn't think any less of you." If Marzoth was inclined to make any sort of response to the comment it doesn't show and no answer is given.

Isanath bounces around in the water, completely oblivious to the goings on behind her and to the little crowd that's starting to gather. With a happy little croon she jumps into the next wave sending spray everywhere and then pauses to shake the water from her wings. It's only then that she turns and looks behind her, bounding up the beach a little towards the others, then turning and bounding back to the water's edge. This unusual, for her at least, move is repeated several times as if to encourage the others to play with her, but there's a definite sheen to her carroty hide that promises a different sort of game in the very near future. "Soon." Aliona could at least try to be happy about the impending flight, but all she does is wrap her arms a little tighter around her knees. "Real soon. She ain't gonna last too much longer." As her head lifts to look at S'u, she looks beyond him as well and mutters a curse more worthy of a sailor than a junior weyrwoman. "We got company."

Along comes an Iernian bronzerider at a half-jog, which speaks clearly of his conflicted mood about the whole thing. He's in no hurry to see what's about to play out - but he's also not about to leave Mephixath unattended. It's not long before B'haal spots the gold - and not much longer for him to pick out the lone female who is clearly attached to the frolicking queen. He approaches only enough to enter conversational range and, then, to offer a brisk, businesslike, "Ierne's duties," to her and those that might be nearby. His attention cuts keenly to his lifemate, only to have a baleful glare angled his way for his troubles. There's a low sound, almost of warning, and the bronze beast resumes his observation of Isanath. He is clearly not one to play those sorts of games - rather, his bearing is perilously close to that of a chess-player, plotting three moves ahead while the other pieces make their places known. As for the rider, he lapses into silence, contemplatively sucking his teeth while lost in his thoughts.

S'u is already catching on, eyes watching as Isanath darts back and forth, the Istan-turned-Monaco rider having learned over the turns about the two sides of Isanath. He is moving to close the distance between himself and Aliona, dropping to one knee to rest his hand gently on her shoulder, giving it what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze, even as she's cussing, and he is following her gaze. "Next time I am going to find a nice little ledge to perch both of us on." He mutters under his breath, even as he lingers at her side, eyes slipping from dragon to dragon, before coming to rest on the human forms of S'dny, and the arriving B'haal. Tzettenvonth, meanwhile, allows Isanath to play alone for another moment, but her darting too and fro seems invitation enough, after all, who needs a second invitation to a party? Particularly a party hosted by such a lovely lady! And so into the water Tzett goes, wings spreading for balance as the waves come and go, shifting the sand beneath his bulk. Muzzle is dropped to the water before tossing his head at Isanath with a croon, sending a spray of water in the direction of the already damp gold, before another follows in short order.

S'ic slowly looks down from the sky still playing his sax in the low sultry tones, his eyes flicking about at those about. Xtzaltuth for his part watches the nearby gold remaining fully still except for the end of his tail which flicks lightly behind him.

Unwilling company. At least from Syd's perspective. At this point there is very little say he has in the matter and so he shall solider on as best as he is able. In the growing darkness he offers a polite salute to both weyrsecond and weyrwoman, "Sorry…" he says. Sure others have told him its a waste to apologize for the inevitable, but there is still something that just seems right about saying it anyway. Marzoth cocks his head slightly to the side as if considering the golds unspoken request. He gets to his feet and stalks toward the water but stops short of going in. Though he doesn't properly remember it there was an incident on this very beach when he was much younger that placed an aversion to the sea deep into his mind. The dark forest inside of him darkens and the wind begins to blow steadily stirring the leaves, « You at least are more pretty than the others. » he says. He has witnessed others flirting, and this is his own poor attempt. He then follows up the kind statement with something more in line with Marzoth's usual personality, « But it is poorly timed. » He offers critically before he turns his attention to the others, « Prepare to witness my triumph. » Then the bronze begins to do something very out of character for him…he giggles. Syd can only stand back and sigh, "Great…" he says more to himself than anyone else.

"Not sure a ledge'd be enough. Island maybe." Aliona mutters, though not entirely unreasonably. There's a sort of wry smile on her lips as she pays more attention to the others, offering a quiet "Hi." as she waves away S'dny's salute, and B'haal's formal greeting - Poor S'ic remains background music for the moment, though Xtzaltuth is noticed by at least one of the pairing. "Pull up some sand an' sit down, though I don't know if we got long t'prepare." Unconsciously she's begun rocking slightly, each movement perfectly in time with Isanath's bouncing, and stills barely a second before the gold makes her move.

Down in the water Isanath frolics happily, bouncing towards each male as they come closer, though with each movement there seems to be more of a determined backing off that follows. There's no warning at all about her sudden change of direction, nor the bright sparkle of of emerald that preceeds her cry of «Tag! You're it!» Quite which one of them is 'it' remains to be seen for Isanath is gone, heading quickly to the feeding pens to really get the party started.

Where B'haal's eyes should be for Aliona, they're instead fixed on the statue-still shape of Mephixath. Pay no mind to the man, though he does briefly spare a glance for S'dny; he's just a pawn in his beast's grand game. The bronze settles himself on the sand for a short spell, rose-madder eyes whirling with calculating slowness as if anticipating her next move - though that swirl of his eyes will speed up when she dares to draw closer to him if only for a moment. The other bronzes are peripherally noted, their places marked, their significance filed away. In such a risky game, he's one who likes to be prepared. His thoughts are subtle, smoky tendrils that reach wordlessly into the void to seek Isanath's mind and insinuate themselves with a sense of vague intoxication. Incense smolders in the distant recesses of his mind - and the crisp rustle of paper might be heard even more distantly. And as she writes the rules, he transcribes them - and with her next move, he follows. To the feeding pens he will go and plot his next move - or three.

S'ic music stops suddenly as Xtzaltuth leaps suddenly into the air sailing rapidly after the retreating gold and the feeding pen. The bronze rider grits his teeth and stand slowly, "Shard it Xtzaltuth…."

"Well, at least a ledge would keep the rest of them away. Isanath is on her own." He offers, and then as she offers a greeting to the others, his hostility becomes to dissipate, and he offers a nod, before slipping into a seat next to her, close, but not too close, though his posture betrays his mood. A hand slips behind Aliona, not touching, but there as a bit of possessiveness, at least for as long as they are in their own minds. Tzettenvonth is only happy enough to play in the water with Isanath, offering a splash to the other males who linger on the shoreline - There is plenty of water for them all! But then, the gold is shouting tag, a different game has begun, and after a moment, the bronze is zipping after her, bronze hide dripping as he flees, giving anyone in the way a nice little shower. Hues of green slip from his mind, brushing over the party guests and hostess alike, eagerness, excitement, and a welcome - even to his fellow chasers. « Let the feast begin! » He offers cheerfully, re-extending an invitation that was never truly his to begin with. S'u tries to placate the gold rider, smiling a bit, "We'll manage, just sta-" And then she freezes, and S'u does as well, watching the dragons flee before his is slowly releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding, the hand brushing Ali's back once more, mentally tagging along with his lifemate.

Marzoth, sufficently entranced by the moment, can feel his calm reserve slipping and this time…unlike the previous times…he doesn't fight it. He simply lets it go and looses himself to the delightful whirl of emotions that he denies himself on a daily basis. So many feelings to feel and experience. As she darts toward him he doesn't back away but stands his ground, and as she is off toward the feeding pens he too is off like a shot after her, « No. Not so easy to escape now. » He too has marked his competition and clearly the bronze from Irene has been marked in his mind as the annoyance of the hour. He says nothing but just continues on his way. Syd had meant to sit down, he really had but as Marzoth heads off toward the feeding pens he looses his resolve to sit and stands in place with a glazed expression. Syd is now gone, there is only Marzoth.

While other dragons are just heading to the feeding pens, Kalorith is already there and causing a ruckus amongs the herdbeasts. It's almost as though he was waiting there, biding his time until some proddy green or gold came along, as it's almost always just a matter of time. The dark bronze takes note of the gold with her followers, and though he's likely not the largest he will consider himself the wisest until proven otherwise and as such he's already sizing up the competition without sending a word to his rider in regards to his intent to chase, or not to. K'len, on the other hand was just heading to the beach to get some sun or at least get away from the crowds of the living caverns while he let Kalorith do whatever he wants, and purses his lips as he sees a few bronzes fly overhead back towards where he was coming from. Lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair, he looks between the small gathering here as well and if he recognizes anyone it's difficult to tell. Probably not. "Ah.. Hey." He tries to give a broad smile to go along with his less than formal greeting, but his attention is getting drawn elsewhere.

Hopping waves has become hopping fences, and perhaps worst of all hopping on herdbeasts - which, in all honesty, cannot possibly be fun for the beasts - but it's there that Isanath has gone, and it's there that she takes her first long drink from the corpse at her feet. As others arrive she watches them carefully, and though she flares her wings and makes a vaguely childish 'thbbbbt' noise towards them she is clearly very aware of their positioning even as she leaps to fell a second beast.

Aliona takes a few deep breaths, even though this isn't the first flight she still has to make the effort to keep separated, to keep control. Her arms slip upwards, no longer hugging her knees but hugging herself instead. "We… we should go." As she moves to stand her gaze falls on K'len and there's an obvious moment of trying to place him and failing before it moves on once more. More deep breaths follow, clear effort to control.

The courier remains standing, hands stuffed in his pockets and gaze fogged with the connection between rider and bronze. B'haal's expression is a grim one, as is the inaudible utterance made under his breath with ritualistic familiarity. He pivots on a heel, but only to track after the beast that's seeking to blood; his attention glances off of the goldrider, the bronzerider with her, and the others that are scattered across the beach in an anticipatory constellation. There is a lingering look for S'dny - split seconds, if that - and a creasing of his brow before the beast tightens the chains that bind.

Mephixath hungers. He has no words for the other males - nor for Isanath herself - but such is not his way. Not yet. First, to weave the webs of smoke and ink that will tempt and tantalize, if from a distance. First, to claim his first blood and arrange the innards of the beast just so. Blood is spread; limbs are angled this way and that. The board must be set, the pieces in their places, before he can continue. Of course, there is a faint sense of awareness as Marzoth makes himself known - but, it might be more telling that he's given no regard from the older bronze. His attention remains on the most important piece of this glorious game - even while he bloods, the playful Isanath holds the whole of his attention and every ounce of his weighty regard.

S'ic moves slowly closer to Aliona his expression tight as he watches, making as if to follow where ever she might go. In the pen he bronze drops hard down into the pen and onto a large heard beast driving his fangs into the beasts neck draining it of its lifeblood. This bronzes eyes never leaving the nearby gold.

S'u is scrambling to his feet even as Aliona is, joining the gold rider and offering her a steadying arm absently, more out of habit than anything, nodding absently. "We.. We should ago." He agrees, lingering at her eyes, eyes darting to the other males with something that is edging towards a glare. Tzettenvonth, however, shares no such hostility towards the males - its one big happy party! Even if it is a little bit of a sausage fest. With the games beginning and the first round of appetizers on the table - er, ground - Tzettenvonth is joining in the fun, snorting at the other males before getting a bit of his own, dropping his head to the throat to drain the beast - the warm liquid only furthering Tzettenvonth's appetite, rather than sating it. Wings are spread then, as he spirals, looking around to see what else is on offer, offering a thankful chirp, one cloaked in glassy greens and smooth ambers, to Isanath, before a second beast disappears beneath his lanky build.

S'dny will wander with the group as needed to wherever they are headed. He never has been good at controlling Marzoth even in the best of times, and this is certainly anything but the best of times. It is more akin to a moment of complete mental chaos. None of this shows outwardly. The glance of B'haal is lost on him, as is every other person standing on the beach, even the new arrival. Marzoth on the other claw is considerably more lively he makes short work of the beast that catches his eye and begins to feed. Taking from the creature the necessary nutrition that he will need to get himself aloft, and to sustain himself through the long flight ahead. He then moves onto the next beast and repeats the process, though his red eyes fix on Isanath as she makes her 'thbbbbt' noise. He responds with the same rather unhinged sounding giggle that left his mind before, though he snaps out of that very quickly and as he finishes his second beast. That task done he turns his attention toward the others there to chase and intones, « Blood, blood, blood…» in an almost playful tone. If he is simply making a statement or some implicit threat it's anyone's guess, and likely that even he himself doesn't know. His head snaps back toward the gold, « This amuses me. » he adds and sends a 'thbbbt' back in her direction. By all accounts Marzoth is having fun. Between has now warmed over.

Had Kalorith already eaten? If so, it might spell doom for this flight for him as he's smaller than most of the bronzes that're gathered for the gold's flight. Even so, he snatches himself a herdbeast that carelessly gets scared into his path and his claws work with deadly precision. The gold is admired, whatever game she would like to play he will participate in, but it's possible that it's more for the fun of it rather than the actual catching. Marzoth is given a look, whirling red eyes glaring at the others that have congregated before he dips his head down to partake in the blood that he's getting out of the beast. K'len seems like he's in a decent enough mood about the whole ordeal, not his first rodeo, nor will it be his last - so he seems content to follow behind the pack rather than being too terribly close to the gold's rider.

The autumnal form of Rielth glides down from the jungle, light filtering through his leaf-patterned wings and casting multi-colored shadows onto the gathered before the lithe bronze drops abruptly on a buck, his whole demeanor suddenly more feral, and latches onto its throat to suck it dry. Even as he's gathering energy for the coming contest, his mind reaches out to coax the gold. The subtle waft of autumnal breeze, just slightly crisp with coming winter and the scent of pie spices combine with the delicate strumming of a guitar, a gentle welcome home from the Fae bronze.

For his own part, M'ta comes running down the path, long soaking wet red-orange hair flying behind him and spraying water as he goes, "Shard it, Ree! I was in the baths!" At least the decidedly effeminate bronzer has a shirt and pants on, if hastily applied. He passes a quick, but formal bow to Aliona as he falls in, one hand rushing to try to control his hair before he become irrevocably tied to his dragon's mind.

Aliona wobbles as she stands, hands balled into fist and nails digging into her palms. "Need… somethin'. Need t'move. Need t'go. Now." Yet for all the urgency in her voice and for all the intent in her words she utterly fails to get her legs moving. Her breathing quickens slightly, each breath expelled in a long, slow, audible stram of air. "Home. Going home." And with that she turns and moves up the beach towards the west clearing, pausing only momentarily to beckon to the men on the beach.

Isanath leaps quickly onto a second beast, felling it without pause or consideration. This one is not as lucky as the first for the kill is not as clean, but as she drops her head to drink she gives little thought to its plight. One of the males gets a little too close and her earlier childish taunt becomes something of a hiss aimed in his direction. Her game, her rules, and she is happy to enforce them right up to the moment she gets distracted by a shiny bug creeping its way across the floor of the feeding pens. This snatches her attention for a brief moment before a huff of breath sends it tumbling over and over away from her.

When Aliona rises, B'haal's consciousness emerges again. It's an instinctual thing by now; movement is recorded and responded to, but with a sluggishness akin to waking from a deep slumber. He'll follow where the others go - instinct, again - but with his head cocked always, as if he still doesn't dare to leave the blooding bronze out of his figurative sight. Or, more likely, the bronze is loath to have his pawn too far from his grip.

Mephixath downs another beast with ease - but this one is not for blood. The carcass is eviscerated, the insides examined, and the entirety of it tangled up in peculiar patterns. While the beastly bronze watches Isanath at work, he adjusts and arranges bits and pieces of his kills - both blooded and non. Something in his survey seems satisfactory and he issues a low sound, barely audible but readily felt in the air. Yes. He is prepared. All is as it should be - or so says the wordless coils of his smoke-laden thoughts, woven through as they are with the sound of a pen scratching on paper. The rules of this game are still being written and clearly being enforced, while her every move is calculated into his plan; things will change, yes, but he has planned for that. Even the addition of more pieces to the playing field has been taken into account. She might not be taking this seriously - or, at least, not seriously enough to his strategic mind - but he is absolutely serious.

S'ic moves slowly along the path toward the western clearning staying a short distance behing Aliona, trying to not crowd her as of yet. The young harper rider humming softly to himself trying to keep his mind clear as event unfold. Xtzaltuth tosses aside the corpse of his first kill before looking to another, sure this days event will take much energy. Not willing to be left behind yet again in his bid.

Hands hover just above Aliona's arms, as Su is ready to catch her, to stabilize her should she wobble too much, to offer her a little bit of strength. But then it seems the gold rider has found her own strength, and she is moving away, the bronze rider at her side brushing her arm gently to reassure her that he is following - though it is truly more of an accompanying pace, never far from her side, as the group begins to move towards a destination he knows well. The second beast drained, and there is a certain buzz that has taken over Tzettenvonth, a buzz that cannot be totally attributed to the warm blood in his system. A bit daring, indeed, Tzett inches a little closer, only to be faced with a loud hiss, the bronze offering a bow in apology, staying low to the ground, frozen as her attention wanders, his remaining on her. The continued presence of the other males seems to draw no further comment, no further attention, they simply are - After all, a party isn't a party if it is only 2. Even as the bug is tumbling, Tzett remains frozen, letting the golden hostess give the cues this evening.

M'ta follows without a thought, already sliding more and more into Rielth as the bronze pulls back from his kill and bugles a melodic rift to the world. If she's playing games, he's mostly oblivious. His tongue runs over the rent neck, lapping up ever last bit of blood before he snags another beast on the run, saving his flight muscles for the main event. Taking it in his hands, he tosses it up in the air, catching the neck with an audible crickle-SNAP and sucking down the second herdbeast juicebox without a thought. And his mind stays in touch with hers, no words, just tempting fragrances. Slowly, the soporific sense of alcohol slides in as well, joining the others into the complete image of Rielth: the life of the party, the tempter of ladies.

Marzoth settles into kill number three and is quickly at work draining the poor creature. A crackle of energy can be heard on the wind as it blows through the trees sending leaves skittering and swirling away. As this happens his eyes deepen in their shade of red, oh yes the moment is nearing. He too is testing things in his own way. He grabs one of the passing beasts in his mouth quickly dispatching it with a crunch. He has no intent to feed on it. Instead he creeps toward the gold testing to see where these unseen boundaries are. Every game needs someone who is willing to push the boundary of the rules and even break a few if it means victory. There is no nobility here this evening. He tosses the beast toward her as sort of an offering. He then turns his gaze on the others gathered and creeps back away from the boundary line the gold has set, though he is content to begin to creep toward Mephixath. Syd just follows along with the crowd, he is inconsequential in this moment after all.

Kalorith shifts out of the way of some of the herdbeasts that're coming his way, snagging another to drain the blood from with the air of an expert. His gaze shifts, from the gold towards the competition, muscles already tensed as though waiting to spring into action. Being smaller will mean he takes to the air faster, certainly, but the question remains if he will be able to keep up or not for as long as required. Doesn't seem to matter, he is ready to play any game that the gold is seeking to try just waiting for her to give the signal that the game is afoot. K'len, on the other hand, idly watches between Nadina and S'u who's right next to her and follows along with the crowd of other men, though his gaze does flick to the bright haired effeminant one for a longer moment as though wondering if somehow he got lost. He just grins at him, none the less.

Aliona doesn't lead the group far, in fact her cottage is pretty much snuggled up to the side of the beach. A few plants are scattered over the ground in a vague attempt at a garden, and the door paint is looking a little worn from the sea breezes but she show little caring in the state of things inside or out. Inside the cottage is fairly empty, almost surprisingly so, but this safe refuge is a place that calms her and as she turns to survey the group there's a little something in her eyes that suggests she's not in as much control as she might claim.

Isanath waits, head tilted to one side as if waiting for something. The music to start, the countdown to begin, some signal that the race is on. Be it instinctual, be it an agreed signal between her and Ali, when she moves it's sudden and deadly. A third beast is felled but not with the intention of drinking. With one sweep of a foot she claws a great gouge out of its side, hurling the resultant mess towards the males with a joyous cry of «Catch!» Should any fall for her trick they'll find that she is gone withing a heartbeat, launching off in the other direction with a flick of a carrot-tipped tail and a peal of bright laughter dancing in their minds.

Thus is B'haal just a shadow among shadows. Once inside the cottage, he takes his place near the door - just to one side - with his head perpetually turned away from Aliona and the others. He absently sucks his teeth, his eyes glossed and empty, and the man is merely as he should be in all of this; just another piece to be moved when the time is right.

No more will suffer; his designs are complete. Mephixath is sated with two kills, both still in their strange postures and with organs laid out in peculiar designs that mean something - if only to him. The beast is poised and ready, though not tense; his is the coiled readiness of a serpent with an eye on its prey, anticipatory but without anxiety. Even as an interloper dares to draw close, he is unmoving - but Marzoth is kept within sight, his image reflected in the fragmented red-purple lens of one eye. The tips of his tail spasm in a soundless rattle, a warning gesture coupled with a low rumble. Isanath occupies the rest of his sight and senses, the nature of the game being of far greater importance than the approach of another pawn. Such a thing is critical, especially when it turns into a vicious version of Simon Says; she says 'catch', but he knows better. He strikes for the sky, movements sharp and calculated; he may resemble a serpent in the air, but his thoughts are still strange and soft, nebulously reaching for her mind and offering this thought or that, shapeless promises that do not yet congeal into more. Efforts at diplomacy, surely; bargaining in his peculiar way.

As Isanath calls out 'catch' Xtzaltuth immediately drops the poor beast he had just pounced on and not yet killed. As thrusting himself up into the air, beating wings hard to dring himself up into the air after the beauty fleeing before him.

S'ic steps just off next to Aliona place staying well back for now keeping up on humming the tune he was playing when all of this started, his eyes locking on Aliona before him.

Rielth tosses his second beast at the one Isanath throws and pushes off into the sky after the gold. Powerful wings drive the small bronze up… up… UP Now that the chase is on, his demeanor becomes all the more sly and suave, crooning to Isanath as he follows after her. Everything he does has a melody and a purpose and this is no different. While her flight is steady, he seems to almost dance behind her, and if that befouls him with the others, well, that's their problem, isn't it? M'ta is now one with his dragon, totally unaware of his surroundings and of the ground beneath his feet or the other men around him. All that matters is the chase.

S'u certainly doesn't go far from Aliona's side, even once they reach the relative safety of her cottage, the bronze rider settling himself at her side, arms folding across his chest as he sets himself into a wide stance, eyes darting from to each of the other males in turn, before he is glancing over his shoulder at Ali, offering her the tiniest smile. "Its ok, Ali.." He murmurs, before there is a groan, and the change in the situation outside becomes evident to him, and he is squeezing his eyes shut, focusing, centering, before he is drawn away with Tzett. Tzettenvonth, who ducks the beast as it is flung in their general direction; Tzettenvonth who is thrown off from his stance; Tzettenvonth who finally makes it into the sky, a long moment after the orangey-gold Isanath. And Tzettenvonth who seems in no immediate rush to make the the distance, as he lets each long wingstroke take him upwards after their hostess, playing by the rules even as he is judging each of the other competitors, her own bright laughter catching in the glassy-green hues of his mind, casting dancing lights as he echoes it, letting it spread.

S'dny finds himself standing in a cottage that he has not ever been and strangely this doesn't affect him at all. He just leans against the wall hanging back as much as he feels he is able, because there is the door that somewhere in his subconcious he is hoping that he will be able to use soon enough to flee and escape. Though consciously he is seeing through Marzoth's eyes. He sees two things the first being is the look that Mephixath is sending Marzoth's way and then as Marzoth turns his head at the golds call he beholds her throwing the mess of dinner their way. Marzoth doesn't flinch instead he takes a few running steps away from the pack and unfurls his wings and with two great flaps takes to the sky after the gold, « Gladly. » he says with a more hearty laugh this time as the darkness of his mind begins to reach outward toward the gold and his fellow chasers alike, « This night is mine! »

Kalorith was not in the way of the herdbeast that gets tossed, though he was definitely prepared for her to take to the skies. Turns of experience has taught him the signs to look for, and even though this isn't his weyr - it's far gentler than the harshness of where he came from initially. Broad wings take to the skies, glimmering with sassy bursts of bronze that pick up any light that they can while he's a dark presence, he doesn't seek to earn her favor by pretty words or flattery, nor does he deride his male competitors - his goal is simply to be there when she falters, that's the point that matters the most. K'len isn't paying so much attention to the others, closing his eyes and just hoping the outcome will arrive sooner than later.

« You just keep thinking that, Marzypants. You just keep thinking that. »

Aliona is fading, her mind growing ever more under the control of Isanath. Slowly, unconsciously, her posture changes so that she's poised to flee, but her gaze still bounces from person to person around the room and a slow smile spreads.

Isanath turns a quick barrel roll in the sky, the sheer joy of flying oozing from every movement as she twirls and spins and ultimately zips away just out of reach. She leads the group higher, ever higher, reaching for teh stars themselves as the race takes them away from the weyr, away from the islands, and out over the dark oceans.

Tzettenvonth continues to hang back, just a little, gathering intel on the other males, pondering which one he can duck in front of, or cut off in that crucial moment. The claims made by Marzoth just roll off of him, the older bronze willing to let the other claim what he will, while he is glancing at the others in turn. A dark presence nearby has him miss half a beat, before he is recovering, slipping sideways into an open slot of sky even as Isanath is showcasing her acrobatics. As the gold continues to revel in the freedom of the darkening sky, Tzettenvonth continues to linger, edging a bit closer as circumstances allow, though making not move yet to intrude, to remind the gold of her duties. S'u, also makes no such move, lingering, frozen, eyes opening to slip from corner of the room to corner of the room, mostly unseeing, as he shifts slightly from foot to foot, not retreating, not advancing, merely waiting, standing.. all the while soaring far above as well.

Emotions churn inside of Marzoth. That full spectrum of emotion that only flights can unleash inside of the bronze. His flight pattern shows none of the acrobatics gold is engaging in. He'll save the fancy stuff for later. Right now he focuses his full attention on the gold in the dark skies before him. How lovely she looks against the stars. If he had the presence of mind he might have even said so, but rather what comes out of his mouth is « Pretty! » Mr. Suave strikes again. His wings thump against the wind as he pulls himself through the air, beating in time with the beat of his pulse that thuds in his mind. The uncertain emotional state of Mr. Suave becoming increasingly apparent as he begins to mentally growl. Mood swing.

Xtzaltuth ignores the other chasers about him soaring onwards and upwards after his prey, the beauty above, spining and looping though the sky trying to close the distance to her. He humms along with the tune his lifemate hmms below. S'ic lean back on a wall lightly watching Aliona, watching her stance, her posture of flight, his own tensing as if to chase after the beatuful gol…. rided before him, his mind becoming tighter and tighter with this dragon above.

There is no B'haal. There is only Mephixath.

Mephixath slithers heavenward, sliding lower than the other males do; he avoids the mess of the knotted up males as they vie for the queen's attentions and, instead, focuses on her and her movements. Those promises start to take a proper shape, though they're not yet inked on paper; instead, they remain nebulous and strange, vague reassurances of all those things he can offer - but only if she's willing to play his game, just as he's playing hers. No words, no; there is no need. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Subtle implications weave themselves ever tighter, even while he pursues with calculated passion after the racing queen. He is no rabbit; consider him a tortoise, if anything at all.

Come away, oh dragon child. Rielth's mind goes more ephemeral the longer the flight continues. Going higher doesn't phase the undersized bronze, glad of the chance to reach the stars. His croon becomes more hauntingly beautiful as his powerful wings push him ever closer to the prize. Moisture starts to cling to his hide as they go higher and the air gets colder, causing him to sparkle slightly in the light that reflects off the ocean, but he doesn't notice that.

Kalorith can't help but chortle at Marzoth's 'eloquent' comment, perhaps he's not taking the flight as seriously as he should be. Or, he's trying to inspire ire in the young bronze and throw him off his game. It's hard to tell what kind of mind tricks that the older bronze is up to, however it's Mephixath that his attention swerves to for a moment. Another silent chaser like himself, though Kalorith is certainly farther back in the running. A lilting tease is issued to the gold, « I thought you'd be more playful. » For all she came into the feeding pen looking for games, the flight seems as tense as any other from the sort that're following after her. Is that disappointment lingering in Kalorith's mindvoice, as though he misjudged the gold based on her first impression?

Out of nowhere Aliona starts to giggle. Just a little puff of air at first, but growing and growing with each second that passes and she gives in to the pull of the flight completely. So completely that when there's a mistake made in the air she sways dangerously as if ready to fall.

In the night skies Isanath revels in the chase, ginger outlined in silver against the moons, dancing in the light and almost entirely free from thoughts and restrictions. As she gathers herself to make another swift turn she realises she's made a mistake. The turn came a little too late and a little too sharply, and though she tries her best to correct there can only be one way to escape - right through the pack of chasers. Red rover, red rover, let Isanath come over. But can she make it?

Having been watching for exactly just such a mistake Xtzaltuth banks very hard trying to roll hard to Isanath reaching forth with his for claws in an attempt to pull her forth to him, his eyes only for her trying coax her into his embrace.

Rielth has the advantage of being nimble, as lithe and narrow as he is. He presses himself forward in a draconic game of wherry, waiting until the last possible moment to bugle his intent and drop beneath her, spinning in place and trying to catch her claws with his and yank her down to him. Come away, oh dragon child. We'll dance on the winds forever.

As Isanath continues to enjoy the dance, the star soloist amongst the stars, Tzettenvonth has finally settled into a spot he is comfortable in, either too far back nor too far forward, neither too high nor too low, and the bronze is ready to make his move. But, it seems that the best laid plans are thrown out the window, for the gold has faltered, and in turn is headed their direction. Motion is halted, Tzett attempting to slip into a hover, attempting to catch the gold as comes close, to give her his strength and stability, to allow her to revel amongst the stars a little longer, and to extend the party, even as S'u is reaching, far below, towards Aliona, offering much of the same as she begins to teeter. A bronze neck, a human hand, both outstretched, both frozen … check.

Ah. There. Just the mistake he was waiting for. Mephixath strikes like the very snake he so terribly resembles, while his thoughts twist along familiar lines; promises are finally given proper shape, offered up on paper with her rules and his. The game she plays is at an end now that her wings falter; it's his turn to play and his game is far more perilous. She plummets and he'll be there, rising to meet with wings outstretched and tail prepared to snare. Will she accept his diplomacy? Will she accept his terms for her surrender? Time is the only thing that will tell - and never mind the metallic whisper of distant chains sliding along one another. Never mind that at all.

The growl continues to rise in Marzoth's mind letting himself sink more deeply into the lovely state of focus that the moment affords. Twice now within the last couple sevenday's he has taken to the skies and failed. Each time he has had to return to the ground a failure, and for an ego like Marzoth that is a very hard thing to cope with, « This time! » he shouts as more of an encouragement to himself than anything else as he dips his right wing sharply as he guages the golds motion toward the pack. He will have to be precise and quick. Dipping his wing causes him to turn sharply toward he as she passes. He does his best to try to grasp her as she passes by, but its anyone's guess if he will be sucessful or not, despite his self assurance to the contrary. Syd can only sigh as he holds onto the wall for support.

Kalorith was prepared for a mistake, but not quite as prepared for her to be heading towards where he lingers with the strength to assure that she remain safe. The moons shine and draw out the bronze that was hiding in his dark hide, a bright torch to guide her towards where he lies in wait to guide her through the darkness. He reaches for the gold as she passes near, seeking to entwine with her and usher her away from the others. Despite the fact he might actually /want/ to catch her, he is just as prepared to slip off into the darkness from whence he came.

Isanath moves with surprising speed considering how far they'd travelled, but with the help of a tail swipe and judicious use of leg power she almost makes it free from the pack. Almost manages to slip away. But there's hovering blockade that she hadn't reckoned with and though she initial resists it's Tzettenvonth that finally manages to ensnare her. It could be a sigh of relief that Aliona lets out, or perhaps it's just a normal sigh that's oddly timed, but regardless the world is forgotten all in a heartbeat. Tag. S'u's it.

The chains are pulled - but not in a way that satisfies Mephixath. Instead, the bronze is pulled up short with a raw howl of rage that's directed not at the queen who is caught by the one he should have predicted, but at the rider far below. As for B'haal, he slips out unseen, quick to vanish into the ether of the night.

Perhaps the claws caught, perhaps there was a bit of a tail swipe.. but in the end, Tzettenvonth's unmovable form holds, and he is twining neck and tail with the gold who has evaded him so many times, wings holding them both aloft, for just a moment longer, letting responsibility wait. S'u is moving to balance Ali even at that same moment, certainly relieved - or at least he will be once he is himself.

His turn a second to early Xtzaltuth rockets just past Isanath as she falls into anothers arm. He arches aside and sails out of sight. As he fls away S'ic turns to exit the cabin rapidly..

The spell breaks and S'dny is once again himself, for the most part anyway. He looks around and then briefly at the gathered group, "Bye!" When he learns at some point tomorrow that S'u and Ali already have a romantic connection he'll be really glad that things turned out the way they did. It worked out for them in a way that it didn't work out for himself. For the moment though he is just glad that he can leave. Lunar Shoals here he comes! Get ready bartenders cause there will be drinking tonight! Marzoth above is once more thwarted in his efforts and he emits a strangled cry of rage. How does this continue to happen? He turns his red gaze toward the gold and her suitor, « Stupid females! » He turns quickly away toward the ground to fly just above the water, « I'm going to go kill something…» he shares with anyone in the vicinity, "Best of luck…" Syd replies to his dragon as he bolts out of the door. Drink awaits! Another arrow has been dodged.


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