2000-12-?: Arolaeth's Second Flight

Arolaeth's Second Mating Flight — Exact Date Unknown (Winter, 2000)


Arolaeth
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Startling black gold ravishes cross hide, sneaking into contours and crevices as if seeking to obliterate all light as clouds might mask the starlight; true obsidian coats glassy crescent-moon talons. That is her beauty, if one can call it that: the harsh, chill radiance of the night sky and the distant constellations, along with the bite of the winds in the northernmost wastes. Harsh is made harsher by the lack of flesh, the emaciated frame that almost suggests a lack of nourishment; that thinness and narrow body, the prominence of bones and the deep-set eyes lends a misleading frailty. Yet forget neither the lean, wiry strength inherent, nor the self-assurance and grace obvious in her every movement. There yet remains hope for light, however; gossamer-fine sails strung between pronounced wing-bones are marked defiantly. The finest shades of gold - rich honey, Rukbat herself, the superior work of some smith - splash through delicate veins in the form of incandescent arcs and lace-forms, as at odds with the rest of her as she is with others of her color. Layer upon layer of blackened mud seems to have been packed any which way over the gold's hide, though it barely suffices to hide the glow of proddiness that lightens the onyx of her hide.

Arolaeth is 4 Turns, 12 months, and 15 days, with a length of 40.52 meters, and a wingspan of 67.53 meters.
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The watch rider trumpets a welcome as a dark shape pops into the air above the clearing. A deep rumbling reply sounds through the night. An unfamiliar bronze dragon settles down a bit away from the others. His rider dismounts.

Vesulith glides down into the clearing to an easy landing.
Vesulith has arrived.

Talias unbuckles herself and scrambles down from Vesulith's lower neckridges.
Talias has arrived.

V'ncent stands covered from head to toe in mud… yes, that is right, mud…… with all the raining of the tropical storm that is raging through the coast in one of Eastern's clasic nightime storms. Standing off in the quiet alcove with Syra, it appears that V'ncent,,, is that really V'ncent all covered with mud and disembowled dummy fluff? Well whoever it is, is trying to disarm the Weyrwoman

T'lar sighs as he slides from Nicoth's back. It was a long flight from the northern continent even if most of it was done in the blink of an eye. Their errands had taken all day and all the rider wants is hot klah and a cool bed.

Syra glares at V'ncent, one hand grasping her sword firmly once more as she struggles to pull away and out of the alcove furiously. Arolaeth, on the other hand, has finally decided to emerge — covered in mud as well — and trumpets rather loudly for the gold, storming over towards V'ncent and her lifemate. Rain sluices down over her muddy hide, revealing patches of brightly glowing gold.

Talias slips down her mount's shoulder, Vasulith rumbling loudly as he settles himself comfortably. Brownrider scritches under her lifemate's chin, glancing towards the alove with worry. Nevermind that she's drenched to the skin, what's happening in there.

V'ncent winces inwardly, his single grey eye registering a serious danger here… and it is not the danger of the gold disembowling him for daring to restrain her rider…. but that glowing color that seems to be effecting several males in the area, including his own bronze. A quick turn of his head and a shout sends a wingman from his group of grungies to run within and warn Nimway to vacate the weyr immediately with her own proddy gold. "Syra…. wait….. " he tries, coming after her.

T'lar looks about the weyr and swears softly. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks his dragon as he sees the golden female. "Don't tell me you want to try for her after all the flying you've done today?"

The big bronze snorts and lowers himself so that his riding straps can be removed. His answer is clear to any who know dragonkind. He is bronze. She is gold and he will catch her.

Fenrith arrives from the west, really, followed close by J'em who's grumbling quietly as he tries to remove the flying straps while the bronze is moving. "Will you hold still!" The man finally loses patience a bit and snaps at his 'mate.

Arolaeth mantles her wings furiously, tail lashing in disdain at those other males as she advances on V'ncent with an outraged snort, pausing in her push forward only as Syra dashes away from V'ncent, sword still in hand, to slide to a slippery halt beside the gold. "Aro— Aro, he said—!" Only as she stares up at the incensed, gleaming gold does she finally have to admit, "You're *proddy*, aren't you! Why didn'ya *tell* me!"

Too the old man's credit, V'ncent knows when he is Dragon Kibble and has the good grace not to fight his fate. Though with the rain pelting his weathered face, the expression of relief spreads as the gold is distracted.

It is Zaristh who actually snarls at this action though. Not carring about misunderstandings or proddiness or even his own leachery…that glowing bimbo was going to eat his rider…. he's the only one allowed to do that. With a challenging roar, the great dark bronze rises on his hind legs, wings beating at the rain, the lightening illuminating his ancient greyed muzzle, displaying a minacing snarl.

Vesulith roars out loudly for his own credit. No longer is the dusky brown content to crouch, and recieve his rider's caress. Nay, not when this glowing queen is here, and he can serve her. A long thin ail lashes, and Vasulith heaves himself to his feet, peering through the rain at the senior queen.

The visiting rider is startled by the sudden display. As he gathers up the straps, T'lar looks around the area, trying to see through the night and the rain to find out who is there and what is going on. It might as well be as black as pitch for all he can see.

Nicoth moves away from his lifemate and toward the other males. More importantly, he moves toward the golden queen. His nose is lifted to catch her scent. He may not have been invited, but he is here now.

Fenrith allows his rider to get his straps off as he's distracted by the hustle and bustle and….fighting? The wolfen bronze lets out a howl at the quarreling and moves, quickly now, to intercept bronze and gold.

J'em slaps his forehead and sighs. "Fenrith, it's none of our business!" The wingsecond hurries over to try and stop his wolfen one, grumbling under his breath. Of course, Fenny seems to be ignoring his rider right now, completely.

Arolaeth draws herself up as Zaristh has the *gall* to confront her, hissing in race with teeth bared. A lunge and warning snap, then she draws back and turns, roaring at the males who dare to gather around her. Shaking water and gobs of mud, she lashes a tail's worth at Zaristh then leaps into the skies, flapping strongly against the winds and rains that would seek to drag her down before she's even began. Syra stares up at Arolaeth, slack-jawed, but at least has the good sense to scramble back several paces before she crows, "She's gonna get'em all this time! Good luck gettin' her! Teach *you* to meddle, old wherry, won't we!" Lithe goldrider points her sword at V'ncent, then dances off after her lifemate with glee, laughing the entire time.

V'ncent can do nothing to call off the fury of his singleminded lifemate. It is not with lust or even desire that Zaristh takes to the skies this stormy night, but with pure unbridled anger. His eyes whirling red, his nostrils flared, the candle in the darkness suddenly becomes a raging inferno as huge wings scoop down great drafts of air. Screaming in rage, his face mudstained, his eyes are only on revenge.
Arolaeth lumbers over to the southern clearing.
Arolaeth has left.

Zaristh lumbers over to the southern clearing.
Zaristh has left.

You walk over to the southern clearing, entering the room…
Southern Clearing(#9736RA)
The Southern Clearing of Eastern Weyr is likely the largest clearing in the area. Opening into the feeding grounds, and the infirmary, it serves as a major area for flight meetings as well as relaxation in the evenings during the cooler seasons. Tall trees to all sides of the clearing offer shade as well as leaving passages for cool breezes into the clearing. To the opposite side from the infirmary, huts and weyrs have been set up in island fashion. Caves being too hot for the majority of the seasons and too few of them to go around, huts both on the ground and in the trees are set up to house the many residents who prefer the inland view. The cool of the evening leaves this huge clearing mostly silent as most of the activity has moved either to the beach or the commons cavern and the main clearing. All around, colored paper covers electric lanterns, lightly pathways to huts and weyrs as well as the other areas in this clearing. The cooler weather of winter has finally arrived on Eastern Weyr. Plants and animals resting and relaxing from their high production seasons and surviving through the late autumn early winter storms.

Contents:
Zaristh
Arolaeth
Eastern Weyr RaceTrack
Obvious exits:
Main Clearing -mc- Infirmary -inf- Feeding Grounds -fg- Ground Weyr -gw- Stables -s-

V'ncent walks into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
V'ncent has arrived.

T'lar walks into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
T'lar has arrived.

Fenrith lumbers into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
Fenrith has arrived.
J'em walks into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
J'em has arrived.

Vesulith lumbers into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
Vesulith has arrived.
Talias walks into the southern clearing, from the main clearing.
Talias has arrived.

You walk over to the feeding grounds, entering the room…
Feeding Grounds
You stand in the open pasture that serves as the feeding grounds for the dragons of the weyr. All around you are feeding animals of all types and sizes, kept in a huge corrall so that many dragons can feed at once without stampeding the entire mixed herd. Off to one side, up under a lip of rock, an area is picketed up with a large thick door. The barns, attached to the Commons cavern through a rough huen passage, this allows the herds to be protected even in the worst of storms and provides fresh meat to those sheltered within.
The majority of the great heard is asleep at this time, or sheltered within the barn. The cooler weather of winter has finally arrived on Eastern Weyr. Plants and animals resting and relaxing from their high production seasons and surviving through the late autumn early winter storms.

Obvious exits:
Clearing -c-

J'em walks into the feeding grounds, from the clearing.
J'em has arrived.

Talias walks into the feeding grounds, from the clearing.
Talias has arrived.

T'lar walks into the feeding grounds, from the clearing.
T'lar has arrived.

V'ncent walks into the feeding grounds, from the clearing.
V'ncent has arrived.

Zaristh glides down to land in the feeding grounds.
Zaristh has arrived.

It would be good manners to wait for the resident males to take flight before following, but Nicoth is not a stranger to mating flights. It is every dragon for himself. With a roar that is meant to impress the female, he leaps after her. Blithfully, he dodges the muddy tail of the angry bronze before him.

T'lar sighs deeply and hands his things over to some drudges and weyrbrats who came out to see what is going on. Taking off helmet and gloves, he asks that his things be placed in the Commons cavern until he can return to claim them.

Fenrith doesn't seem to be in it for the flight, not just yet. He's still a bit confused by Zaristh and Arolaeth's fighting, and Aro's not striking out at him. Hmm, interesting. The wolfen bronze heads after the pair, watching and waiting.

Talias's gaze flickers to her lifemate as the Igen rider realizes that she has come to visit a friend, not only in the midst of a storm, but in a flight as well. The brownrider heaves a sigh, and starts after her lifemate, who has sincle lepat skywards in pursuit of the glowing queen.

Arolaeth soars easily despite the lashing wind and rain, making her displeasure known in another, furious bugle. A glance beneath her reveals all those impudent males on her tail, most especially the pair of despised bronzes, and so she tucks her wings and dives towards the feeding grounds, slashing her way through the herd and leaving more than one of the terrified animals dead, though she only snags a pair of them and piles them together roughly. Turning, she rears up once more, wings spread and jaws opened wide, and screams again, eyes whirling crimson defiance at them all- but especially Zaristh.

Syra pauses by the entrance to the feeding grounds, pressing up against the fence to watch the slaughtering joyfully, licking her lips. "Mmm, good, teach them to come after me…"

V'ncent stumbles as his senses are invaded by his dragon's rage. His single eye hardly enough to keep his balanace as his vision is suddenly impared.

Zaristh's teeth are bared in response to his daughter/was-mate's cries. A beast is plucked up from the grass by the back and half shreaded before its carcass is uncerimoniously tossed at the Gold in an act of utter defiance, not offering.

Nicoth watches the female from a position high above her. The winds do not seem to bother him too much as he is used to the mountains winds of the norht. The sight and smell of the dying beasts makes his belly rumble and he plunges down to the ground. He snatches up one herdbeast in his jaws and lands nearby. His tail flips out like a whip to snap the neck of another. Silently, he bloods his kill to get the strength he will need for the chase.

Fenrith figures that, indeed, this is a flight, and so the wolfen bronze dives as well, landing roughly upon a large herdbeast with a crackle of bones. A talon slashes out at the beast, meeting its neck as red-tinged maw is lowered to indulge in the blood of the beast. J'em sighs. "Why now?" He grumbles, moving towards the fence, as well.

Arolaeth tears open one of the beasts, sticking her muzzle into its opened gut to feast on the steamy— no. That's wrong. Her head jerks upward as she's caught in a raging battle of Duty and Desire - and as it always is with the gold, duty wins out. Roaring her displeasure once more, she snaps crimson-stained jaws around the neck and proceeds to suck the creature dry, chewing on the grisliness of the neck to take the edge off her annoyance. Zaristh's toss is noted and responded to with another piercing shriek and heave that sends the nearly drained herdbeast hurtling towards him, followed by the entirety of a very angry, muddy, glowing Arolaeth with teeth bared at the ready.

Dusky brown wings fold, and Vasulith drops quickly towards the herdbeasts, bright talons extended for the kill. A large bullock is spotted, and the dragon pounces, sinking his claws into the creature's haunches, to haul it back to him. Sharp teeth close on the tender vulnerable throat, and wings mantle, protecting his prey as he bloods.

Syra gasps angrily, whirling around with a swipe from her sword at any of those who might have dare gotten near. She scans the maleriders gathered, but because of the rain and general darkness descending, has too hard a time picking out V'ncent, and as a result simply throws her sword into the murkiness like a spear and darts off towards the ground weyr.

The thrown beast catches Zaristh jusst beneath the eye drawing blood and a raging roar….. that turns into a surprised snarl as the violent form of his daughter/was-mate is soon upon him. Claws forward he spares no contact as he truly intends to teach this daughter of his some manners. Violence begets violence perhaps….

V'ncent covered in mud and dazed, luckily the Weyrwoman has missed anything vital in the darkness but it is the mad dash that nearly runs the poor old man down and sends him hurling to the ground in a dizzied condition of confusion.

The show being put on by the gold and the old bronze is really something. Nicoth lets the anger and desire that swirl about the grounds lift him to a height that will assure a good chase. The second beast is dessicated now and flung aside. He leaps into the air and lands on a large wherry, breaking its back. A slash of razor teeth opens the neck, but the spurting blood is not lost, but savored.

T'lar has kept to the side, but does see the rider turning to leave. With one last look at his lifemate, he follows, but does stay out of reach. She looks strong and capable of throwing punches as well as swords.

Vesulith casts his own drained carcess aside, and reaches for another one, as his great head swivles towards the battle royale between the young gold, and her older suitor/sire. A bugle erupts from his throat, as if egging the conflict on. Perhaps that will be one less dragon to contend with.

Arolaeth lashes out with claws of her own, though she does let out a grunt of impact as she gets raked across the chest. Unacceptable! Teeth lash out towards the bronze's shoulder, perhaps to resume the blooding that was so rudely interrupted, or maybe simply to gain revenge. Nevertheless, she raises herself up to her full height, wings extended, and seeks to use the advantage of size and youth against the elderly bronze.

Youth and speed seek to overcome age and wisdom…. but considering Zaristh is fighting with a creature larger and more vicious than his own nature, it could be said that wisdom is not something he has in spades….. and age is not working for him. The scream of pain from the ancient bronze becomes a roar of anger as he struggles to break the lock hold of her jaw on his shoulder.

Nicoth roars at the two fighting dragons. Now is the time for the drinking of blood and the building of ones strength and desire. Fighting is beneath them all. The true test comes in the sky with wings and the wind. That is where the true battle is. The victor gets to show the queen just who is boss.

V'ncent stumbles again as he tries to rise, helped to his feet by a pair of healers who have rushed to the scene. After the last time this one flew, they are taking no chances, but viewing what the beasts are doing to each other, they may be more needed after the flight. With a healer on each side, the old man is helped into the weyr behind the others.

Arolaeth releases her hold of her own volition, backing away several paces to gloat over her victory, snaking a tongue out to lick at the crimson on her jaws. Roaring again, she deliberately turns away and stalks to one of the herdbeasts she'd killed previously and resumes her blooding, turning every few seconds to keep tabs on all the activity around her. The second beast is drained rather swiftly and tossed away with disdain towards Fenrith this time, the remaining blood splattering across her chest as she throws and mingling with the wounds inflicted by Zaristh. Her scorn is screamed out as she latches onto a third beast, this time one not so dead, and slices its throat open with a claw, revelling as its life is drained awau.

Zaristh is slower now getting to his feet, his shoulder so bloody that it seems to be impairing the use of his forelimb, but he does not admit defeat. In truth the pain only causes him to snarl further as he slashes out his anger on cowering beasts of food, sucking down their blood one after another in a pointless rage as he glares at his young daughter.

It is not the number of animals that give themselves to the defiant queen, but how swiftly she takes each and her color that keep the males informed of her condition. Nicoth is busy blooding his fourth kill, but he is very aware of Arolaeth. His wings are partially spread and his legs are posed for leaping. He is ready for her.

Vesulith half-leaps as he pounces onto a wherry, proto-feathers spraying everywhere as his head strikes downwards, almost severing the avian's head with a savage bite. The brown's long tongue slips out, to lap at the greenish ichor that leakes from the wounds.

V'ncent walks over to the private weyr.
V'ncent has left.
T'lar walks over to the private weyr.
T'lar has left.

Arolaeth pauses as she searches for her fourth beast, swinging her great, dark head about, then gives a hiss of distaste. Enough of this! A roar of challenge, then she takes to the skies in a flurry of wingbeats and pumping limbs, heading straight up into the raging storm overhead despite the winds that already buffet even her formidible body. Rain sluices down her body, darkness all but cloaks her form save for a faint glimmering of gold against black, and two gleaming pinpoints of crimson light.,

You walk over to the private weyr, entering the room…
Mating Weyr
As your dragon glides above in the thrall of instincts and passions known to their kind, the riders exist below in a world that is distant and hazy. This weyr is kept for those who accompany their dragons to the feeding ground before they fly. A huge pit of pillows marks a large bed of sorts, made to be fallen into if necessary, without injury. The floor is covered with a thick pile carpet incase of falling before the distracted riders find the bed. Not much in the way of furnishings, this room does boast a large bathing tub, a chest with several extra sets of clothing, and a large first aid kit for those wild and dangerous flights.

Contents:
T'lar
V'ncent
Obvious exits:
Out

Talias walks into the private weyr, from the feeding grounds.
Talias has arrived.

T'lar moves to a far corner and leans back against the wall. His arms are folded tight across his chest. His piercing gray eyes watch the gold's rider and his rivals.
Arolaeth> Zaristh answers with a roar demanding a rematch. One leg lamed, his wings spread with a harsh snap that slings water for yards. His teeth bared, he sharls at the gold. Suddenly her condition perhaps echos through to his anger hazed mind, or perhaps his intentions suddenly become far more sadistic. His long blackened tail lashing behind him, he does not wait for this one to call the shots but makes a leap for her, willing to pin her on the ground and end this now.

V'ncent is rested on a chair by the two healers, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. His fingers of his right hand kneeding and flexing as though sensation there was lost in all the stres.

Talias moves into the weyr, slipping through the crowd to get as far away from the door as possible. Once the brownrider find a bare spot along the wall, she slumps, leaning against it for support.

Syra prowls across the room, her long hair let loose from its braid to hang wetly down to her waist, serving as a cloak of sorts. She was armed with more than the sword, though - a hidden weapon, a coiled black whip, rests easily in her hand as she stalks past each malerider, eyeing them blearily as if sizing them up, and then moves on, slowly working her way towards V'ncent.

Arolaeth> Nicoth 's gold/bronze wings snap open as he leaps high into the air. The air currents are unfamiliar and the storm is making them treacherous at best. He opts for height and the ability to maneouver. Wasting no breath on a roar that would be lost in the wind and the noises of the lesser males, he pumps upward until he can find a stable place in the sky. There, he watches *her*.

Arolaeth> Vesulith leaves his prey behind, moving away from the drained, and pitiful looking carcasses, and moves closer towards the gold. But he keeps his distance still, the pervious altercation between bronze and gold has not been forgotten, and the Igen brown does not wish to become prey himself.

V'ncent seems unaware of his doom approaching, rather that he cannot seem to keep separate the here and now and the raging wildness that is the ancient bronze outside. It perhaps would be a thankful moment that the healers interviened, but from the look of that whip, they seem disinclined to come between the weyrmates.

Arolaeth> Arolaeth shrieks furiously at the outrage, the scandal, and lashes at Zaristh with her tail, cutting desperately to the side to avoid his tackle, though only barely. One back foot lashes out at him as she kicks upwards once more, heading nearly straight up into the storm and the darkness pierced only by the occasional flash of lightning. A clarion call, a challenge of the extreme, dares those who would to follow her into the storm itself and experience the ride of their lives.

Arolaeth> Zaristh tumbles onto the ground, twisting a wing beneath him in an effort to land well on his back. When finally he regains his feet, the old creature is panting, bruised, bloodied and for a moment, he considers giving up…… and V'ncent actually offers a sigh of relief…. Perhaps he can rest now…. to sleep that silence of the contented.

T'lar watches the movements and interplay between those in the weyr. He does not know these people, but he feels the pull of his dragon to the gold echoed in the ache of his own loins.

Syra is no more aware of her actions - lost in a whirl of black storms and bloodred rage, she simply stalks towards the source of that rage, eyes darkened nearly to black and completely unfocused. Yet as she pauses in front of V'ncent, stroking the whip in her hands malevolently, something that is Syra worms its war forward and gasps, prompting her to throw herself forward at her weyrmate and wrap both arms around his neck, tensing in preparation for the moment when Arolaeth resumes dominance once more yet determined to cling onto her weyrleader no matter what.

Arolaeth> Nicoth spreads his wings even wider, steadying himself in the storm lashed rain. She is rising. The old one is on the ground and surely defeated. The brown is nothing. The others that rise to chase her are nothing. Several subtle shifts of wing and tail place him in a perfect position to chase and he does. Diving suddenly, he arrows for the now glowing gold. She is a beacon in the dark sky and worthy of his attention, his strength, his chase.

A gentle smile teases the old man's face, a single tear trailing down his filthy cheek as he leans down to kiss the head of his young weyrmate. Having outlived two already, this life's one more chance is not taken so lightly. The arms that wrap around him bring an attention to the now… and the sudden desire…and posessiveness.

Arolaeth> Vesulith springs, haunches bunching and flexing as he takes to the air in steady pursuit of the beacon of gold. Dusky wings catch the wind, buffeted for a moment by the prevaling winds, nothing like this has he faced at Igen Weyr, but his siern is not to be denied, and he would die to listen to her song. Into the stormy aether, Vasulith goes. If he'll catch his queen, nodoby knows.

Arolaeth> Arolaeth falters in a wingbeat, shrieking her confusion at something gone amiss, and circles up through the lowest of the clouds, doubling back to peer down at the bronze so far below her on the ground. For a moment, she nearly begins a descent back towards him until she remembers who she is, and the mating heat takes ahold of her body once more, prompting her to twist midair and resume her revelry darting amidst the clouds that are just a few shades darker than her luxuriously glowing self.

Arolaeth> Zaristh roars at the sensation of overwhelming desire. What had only been moments ago, a blistering defeat yet again, suddenly turns into a fighting chance. Age perhaps is a weakness… and his foolishness before a henderance, what has always served him before as a fuel now brings his heart to racing. A need… a desire… a validation of his lifemate's belief in him…and his being needed. Without him, the old withered piece of would would just hold that little weyrmate of his… but with him….. Eyes glowing red, he launches into the sky. With him…. oh the things he will do to that gold after he teaches her some manners. Wings grasping the wind, he rises into the darkness after the distant flight.

Sighing gratefully, T'lar sinks to the floor. He concentrates on Nicoth and lets the two people have their privacy.

Talias leans back against the wall, eyes nearly closed, and all but silent as she waits—waits for this all to end, with Vasulith's success or his defeat.

Arolaeth> Nicoth dives past the vascilating queen, flicking her with his tail to let her know he is there. Another bronze is ascending at the same time and gets too close so Nicoth warns him off with a roar and a swipe of still bloodied claws.

Arolaeth> Arolaeth shrieks the cry of the dead as yet another bronze gets close, twisting away from Nicoth with a savage snap in his direction. Bloodlust takes dominance once more as she wheels about and heads towards a particularly savage thunderhead, nearly getting blown off course twice by sudden gales. But she falters now, her defiance not nearly as strong as it had been before as all the effects of her feast slowly dribble away in the dripping of ocher from the wounds on her chest.

Arolaeth> Vesulith strikes out after the queen, but he's certainly not as big as any of the bronzes, and his difficulties in the air at first, have slowed him. But still the gallant brown plows onward, his dusky wings sweeping through the misty clouds in pursuit of his dazzling treasure.

Syra smiles faintly before she jerks upright and away, concern for her weyrmate fading in Arolaeth's reassertion of control that pulls her reeling back a pace, staring at V'ncent with eyes that see not a man but a bronze dragon. "You! You tried to trick me!" is hissed at V'ncent furiously as she backpedals - this one hasn't been caught just yet.

Arolaeth> Zaristh 's Wings beating the sky, the dark of the sky shadows his approach, but Zaristh quickly catches up with the pack… or atleast somewhat. Age causes the old heart to beat a bit more weakly, but streatching out with each stroke the ancient one gains some ground until a thick cloud is past. With an evil twinkle in his eyes, the dark bronze takes to the thickness of the air, sweeping through the swirls of mist and peeking out now and then.

V'ncent 's smile turns slightly into regret, but fades to understanding as he lets her go. The violence of her other half accepted with quiet composure… or perhaps he simply expects the coming of the whip.

Arolaeth> Vesulith struggles through the winds, bereft of freidn or foe as he journies onwards in his purruit of the dazzling queen. Wingmuscle strain, as the sweep the air, trying to keep himself both aloft, and moving forwards at the same time.

Arolaeth> Arolaeth makes a sudden turn amidst the cloud bank, and suddenly finds herself disoriented and lost, hovering in place for a fraction of a moment as she tries to get her bearings. The cry of a male to her left springs her into action, sending her on a half-dive to the right and into thhe thickest black of a thunderhead. Sore, tired, with energy bleeding out from her with every pump of her heart, she bugles once more, defiantly, and swerves this way and that, determined to make her last stand count.

Arolaeth> Zaristh is what hides within that inky darkness. His red eyes whirling with revenge mixed with lust. A dangerous combination as he makes an grasp for the screaming queen…. none too gently. His huge wings holding him up, he tries to snag her by her tail so that he will have the last laugh.

Arolaeth> Vesulith struggles through the winds, bereft of freidn or foe as he journies onwards in his pursuit of the dazzling queen. Wingmuscle strain, as the sweep the air, trying to keep himself both aloft, and moving forwards at the same time.

Arolaeth> Arolaeth hovers once more, perception bubbling as she senses a mass off to her right and above her, yet cannot pick it out from behind the fog of rage and lust. A sudden, unprecipitous blast of wind fills her sails and knocks her upwards and into a large, scarred mass with a trumpet of surprise - and then there's a tail wrapping about hers, and before she can do anything about it, she's been well and truly caught from behind, with no way to twist herself about and exact the price of her anger on the only one who would dare such a thing: Zaristh.

[Dragon] Arolaeth shrieks, a piercing cry of betrayal as somebody wraps his tail about her and whisps her away from the much-beloved freedom and into his arms - the vengeful clutches of Zaristh.

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