Logs:Cailluneth's First Flight
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| RL Date: 26 July, 2013 |
| Who: B'rant, Rhenth, H'vier, Reisoth, N'ky, Cailluneth, N'rad, Maldoranth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Cailluneth takes to the skies in her maiden flight. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, Guest Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 5, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. |
| Mentions: April/Mentions |
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| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. It's perhaps not the best conditions for sitting outside, what with the dampness in the air and the general dullness of the day as it tapers off towards sunset and evening, and yet one young greenrider is leaning in the outermost edge of the arch leading into the Snowasis, eyes not quite focused on the here-and-now as he nurses a mug of something hot. N'ky, the sole figure occupying the patio at this pre-dinner hour, has been absent from Avalanche's duties for three days now, but he's still wearing his flight jacket with the wing's patch on its shoulder. There's a slight possibility that H'vier hasn't actually noticed the absence of a greenrider. Especially now while he's so focused on the fact that the wing, and now the Weyr, is led by one. But since N'ky is the only person currently on the ledge and his face is somewhat familiar to the bronzerider, H'vier pauses to look at him as he heads toward the arch leading inside as though the greenrider is actually blocking the way or something. One greenrider - and such a new one to the wing, as N'ky is - is hardly something easily missed! But, under such circumstances as they find themselves now, it's hard for him to ignore someone approaching. The coltish teen snaps back into the present, breaking away from the connection with his dragon to blink blearily a few times at the bronzerider, taking a few seconds to recognise him. "H-...H'vier." He sounds surprised, barely cutting off his stutter before it gets a proper hold on his words. "A-am I in your way?" He flattens himself to the arch anyway, just in case, brown eyes looking up (up! At someone taller than him!) through the curled thatch of his bangs at his wingmate. The fact that the greenrider knows his name seems to be a good thing. As far as H'vier is concerned, anyway. The bronzerider eyes the younger man in what is probably considered a rude silence for several long moments, then he says, "No." But there's something about the way he says it that's not just for the greenrider, like he's talking to someone else. But that's what dragonriders do sometimes. "Why are you loitering out here? You'll get more attention in side, no doubt." That's what all greenriders want, isn't it? Brown eyes flickering out over the bowl in response to H'vier's question may answer it before N'ky speaks up to do so; he's looking towards the lake, where the silvery, glowing hide of his lifemate can be clearly seen as she snaps and bellows and paces along the shore. Cailluneth snakes her neck offensively at an incoming green to steer her away, before taking wing herself and settling on a ledge high up the bowl's side. "It's e-easier to control her i-if I can see her," N'ky murmurs, dropping his gaze from that high-up ledge down to H'vier. "Why w-would I want attention?" That makes his nose wrinkle in displeasure, and he shakes his head. Not what this greenrider wants. His dragon is - if you asked the dragon himself, anyway - the most observant inhabitant of the entire Weyr. H'vier knows about the green. But the response makes him frown just slightly. "If it's a matter of control, perhaps you should be closer to her. But I assumed she's why you'd be wanting attention. You all turn into attention whores when your dragons get horny. I suppose it's not your fault, exactly, but all the same. I'll admit some of you can be rather interesting but you're not exactly my type." N'ky's eyes go wide, and he splutters a little in embarrassment. The blush that rises to colour his cheeks extends as far back as his ears, and he runs his fingers nervously through his curls as he's clearly struggling to find the right way to reply to the bronzerider. "I-... I-I've n-never..." And up comes the stutter in full force as he shakes his head adamantly. "I've g-got her under control. She's..." He looks up to the ledge Cailluneth is perched on, and it's possible to make out a blue who's joined her there. Perhaps H'vier's sharper-eyed lifemate will see her hassling him; perhaps not. Then, as if just realising what was said, N'ky adds distractedly - and with a hint of relief, "I'm not your type?" H'vier is a little shameless, if N'ky hasn't noticed quite yet. "Nothing personal. Just too much between your legs and not enough on your chest." He seems to be content with the greenrider's ability to control his dragon because he doesn't focus on that. Maybe it's just more interesting to make the flight-virgin uncomfortable. "Don't worry. You'll have fun. Or if you don't, you might not remember anyway. I'd suggest lubing up beforehand. Not really on anyone's mind when the time comes, you know?" "I-I.... I..." N'ky's blush grows even deeper, and he gawps at H'vier like a fish out of water. "Y-you're not my t-type, either," he replies feebly, actually managing to get his mouth to sync up with his brain enough fo the words to come out. But what the bronzerider goes on to say has N'ky whimpering, pressing further back against the archway, fingers clasped white-knuckle tight around his mug. His distress causes a husky roar from Cailluneth, who launches down from her ledge perch to thump down in a heavy landing just beyond the patio, eyes whirling red and neck arched like raised hackles as she growls and peers up to where her rider is. N'ky peels a hand from his mug to hold it haltingly towards her, while his gaze remains on H'vier. "I m-mightn't remember?" The green's presence in the bowl outside of the ledge has a dark, angular bronze circling the sky above and watching. No doubt he wouldn't mind seeing how far she'd go if H'vier kept antagonizing her rider in theory. But he probably wouldn't just watch in practice. His rider may be a bastard but he's still his rider. Also, the green is glowing. Definitely worth observing. "I'm not? Surprising." Though H'vier doesn't seem to care that he's not, exactly. "It can be a bit... blurry. Like a night of drinking, you know. The first few times Reisoth caught, it was like that. But I've heard it can be worse on your end." N'ky doesn't seem to know quite how to digest this new piece of information; part of his expression seems pleased with it, part of it seems worried - but for the most part, he's just looking distracted, which is probably to do with Cailluneth's still-there, still-growling, so-close presence. She's unaware of Reisoth watching her, because she's focusing fast-whirling crimson eyes on his rider, who's getting a full-on display of her teeth, too. "I-I'm not gay," N'ky stammers, his brow furrowing as he looks up at H'vier. "I-if I was, you wouldn't be my type anyway." Brown eyes narrow beneath lowered brows, and his lips curve into a slight pout. "I-if I drink beforehand, would it... w-would it help?" H'vier doesn't seem particularly worried about the green over there. Dragons don't hurt people, right? And he's not touching the kid or anything. Everything's cool. "Are you sure? You look like the sort. Not that she'll care very much who ends up on your end." The bronzerider grins at the young man's last question and glances into the Snowasis proper. "If you ask me, drinking helps everything. Should I get you something?" It's almost like he's being nice. Having just finished delivering his carried message, B'rant mosies into the Snowasis after having been directed to the place by a helpful 'Reachian resident. The tall young man with the gray eyes is looking all around at this new place, his quiet smile and mien self-assured, his bearing a little regal as he notes who's where, as well as what is. After gaining his bearings the towering weyrling wades into the throng, murmuring low pardons as he makes his way towards the bar. "I'm n-not gay." This time, N'ky's adamant reply has some of the snarl that's emanating from Cailluneth's chest, and the hand that was held out towards his lifemate is clenched tight enough for his nails to dig into his palms as he lowers it to his side. His shoulders hunch and his brown eyes narrow further beneath the curls that fall over them, bottom lip curved into a surly pout. He might be angry, but he's not too angry to turn down a drink. "Whisky. But..." Cailluneth interrupts with a husky, lusty bellow, spreading her wings and sweeping a draught of damp spring air across the patio. "... quickly?" N'ky winces, signs of his mental struggle on his face as he turns to look into the Snowasis, towards the bar, judging the queues... and seeing someone very tall there. B'rant is blinked at a couple of times before N'ky looks back to H'vier. "Please?" And, trying to concentrate on Cailluneth as he may be, he can't help but look back in at the foreign rider... it's not often that N'ky gets to feel short. "Whisky," agrees H'vier, ignoring the greenrider's anger. Drinking is something he's damned good at. Buying drinks, even if for another guy, is something that he's great at. And the bartender seems to recognize him more than they'd like when he makes his way inside to order. There's two drinks that end up in front of him while his attention shifts toward the young Fortian. But the fact that he's young, even if he's another bronzerider, means H'vier's attention doesn't linger. He picks up the drinks and turns to head back out to the ledge without saying anything to the visitor. Hospitality isn't one of the things he's good at. Finding the bar, and then settling down on one of the few stools open there, B'rant awaits his turn in the queue to order, the teen taking some time to look all around some more at this interesting new place. On a sweep of the place, his eyes can't help but notice the other two, tall standouts in the place -- a tap of fingers to his head in easy salute acknowleding their looks -- his ears perking for what's overhearable in N'ky and H'vier's direction, though his gaze moves onward. Wouldn't be decent, being rude. Outside, what was formerly a slightly grumpy Rhenth is now all eyes for the bellowing Cailluneth, the huge bronze offering her a basso croon in return, lifting his head higher, curling his tail in on itself some as his blue eyes spin up faster. It's not in words, but with impressions that Rhenth announces himself, the Fortian bronze reflecting Cailluneth's appearance back at her, though it's surrounded by a nimbus of hazy, drowsy sunlight. She's so lovely. (To Cailluneth from Rhenth) Cailluneth's head whips around at the unknown bronze returning her challenge, red-whirled eyes fixing on Rhenth and narrowing as she snaps her jaws in his direction. That there's a stranger amongst her pack is enough to distract her from the threat to her Heart that no longer exists (that never really was), and she stalks over to the Fortian dragon, low-slung like the wolfish huntress she is. Wings tucked tight to her sides, teeth bared at him, she growls and prowls before him. N'ky watches after her, reaching blindly for the drink a quick glance told him was in H'vier's hands - he's assuming it's for him. His grabbyhands have no direction, though, so his wingmate might have to help him out to avoid a chest-grope, while N'ky, voice tight but maybe loud enough to reach the bar, asks, "Whose is that bronze?" To Rhenth, Cailluneth's mind is lacking words, filled instead with swirling colours that represent the world around her. Impressions carved from blood lust red and death's darkness are prominent now - as is the question of who this dragon is who's so unfamiliar in her home, amongst her pack. His hazy sunlight is clouded over, darkened by the storm of her thoughts. Without thinking, or at least without looking like he's thinking, H'vier puts the drink into N'ky's grabbing hand. It's something he's probably familiar with doing, though in different circumstances. "Reisoth says he's from Fort. Perhaps he belongs to the young man inside." Apparently Reisoth didn't supply a name. He's probably more focused on the green. Especially considering the way that his lazy circling above turns into a calculated descent toward the bowl where there's a foreign male looking interested in the local green. "I'm not sure you'll have enough time for the lube, kid," he says absently before taking a drink of his own whiskey. Prowling and growling? Rhenth is fine with that, the weyrling bronze subconsciously puffing himself up larger -- as if he really needs to do such -- then giving a deep rumble of appreciation to Cailluneth and her aggressive stance. He remains undaunted. As for B'rant, he's clueless as to N'ky's state, though, once he takes a moment to focus himself on his posing dragon and not what's going on inside, the teen's giving a slightly strangled little groan, followed by his eyes going totally elsewhere. Not /now/. Bass, mellow, very warm: « Rhenth. Fort. » And, though he's foreign, he'd be overjoyed to become one of her pack while here. The bronze's images are of a summery thunderstorm over the ocean, updrafts and downdrafts, cool and heat combined with sun and shade to drive them both. (To Cailluneth from Rhenth) In the bowl, a visiting bronze makes a quick, spiral landing before his rider hops to the ground, apparently intent on reaching the Snowasis. "Nothing like a little shot of somethin' to round off the d--." The bronze has already taken off again. There's mischief afoot. It leaves N'rad glancing around him as his footfalls reach the patio ledge, already wind-blown hair ruffled further by a scrubbing hand. "Hello," he says to N'ky and H'vier as he nears the doorway. The two riders are studied. Then the blonde peeks inside and spies, "Br'ant!" Back to the other two. "Uh... hello." "Fort." Fingers clasp tightly around the glass, and N'ky's got it to his lips in mere seconds. It's upended, the contents downed, followed by coughing and the draining of whatever's left in the mug he held in his other hand. Then both mug and tumbler are set with absolute care down on the ground by his feet. When the greenrider straightens, he's got nothing but eyes for Cailluneth, who seems oblivious to the size difference between herself and Rhenth as she bawls huskily at him, his undaunted attitude only serving to rile her further. Her moonlight-kissed wings suddenly snap out as she backs up to launch herself into the air, a short flight and heavy landing bringing her down in the pens amidst the startled herdbeasts. She snags one as they stampede, teeth sinking into its withers and spine, which is shattered by a deathgrip shake. The beast's carcass is tossed aside - and it's only a panicked "No!" from N'ky, who bolts past N'rad without so much as a hello in return, that gets the green suckling on the creature's splintered neck. To Rhenth, Cailluneth has no time for cool and heat, sun and shade; there is blood to be had, and her mind is awash with both the lusty crimson and metallic tang of it. B'rant's at the bar itself, looking nowhere but inside as he battles with Rhenth to try and control his blossoming bronze who's posing in front of an angry-looking Cailluneth. N'rad's call to him pulls the young man out of his inner fog enough to allow him to recognize his fellow Fortian, a jerk of the weyrling's hand upwards having to suffice for a greeting.. and then he's lost for sure. The momentary lapse of concentration upon a mind he's more used to seeing as easygoing and aceding renders Rhenth all the time he needs to follow the pretty gree anywhere. Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr This broad ledge is dappled with bright light in the morning and commands a lovely view of the eastern end of the bowl, including the lake and the trees that dot the shoreline. Reached by a flight of stone steps that climb up from the bowl floor, the ledge is relatively low, an easy jump down to the ground; possibly its selection was a safety precaution, so anyone stumbling out the wrong way after a flight would be unlikely to break his or her neck. Within the weyr itself is a comfortably-sized dragon wallow, rarely used but swept clean nonetheless. The cavern broadens as it stretches back away from the entrance to reveal a neatly made double-sized bed pushed up against the back wall, a press at its foot with an extra blanket folded on top of it and two chairs standing guard to either side of the hearth. A rectangular table lurks against the side wall, kept stocked with a pitcher of water and a basket of seasonal fruits. The weyr is well-lit and kept immaculately clean, the refreshing scents of citron-infused sweetsand mingling with the tang of herbs. Reisoth's descent lands him directly in the feeding pens, snatching a herdbeast as he lands with a calmness that's probably a little insulting to the poor thing's death. His attention is on the green, after all, and watching her reluctantly blood her kill is simply fascinating. H'vier, on the other hand, is not quite as fascinated as his dragon is in this whole ordeal. In fact, he might be a little cross that his dragon has decided to chase at all. He finishes his drink in one smooth gulp before setting his glass down on a nearby table to follow the greenrider. Rhenth is pretty new to this whole equation, the Fortian bronze weyrling wondering where Cailluneth's gotten herself off to, then finally noticing the other dragons moving towards the pens. Ah, okay. Off he flings himself, too, enjoying this lusty 'game.' Soon enough, he's got a buck in his teeth, the life crushed out of it, the carcass dumped to the ground. What does he /need/? Meat...No. Something. B'rant, meanwhile is pulled along like a leaf in a storm by N'ky, H'vier, and N'rad, his face screwed up tight in fear and urgency. Cailluneth makes short work of that first herdbeast, staying latched to its throat for no longer than N'ky's pause in his across-the-bowl flight from the Snowasis to the ground weyr keeps him focused on her activity in the feeding pens. Once he bolts for the ground weyr again, Cailluneth turns her attention back to the herd, not at all pleased to find her hunting hampered by the presence of other dragons; they're made well aware of her anger as she snarls and growls at them, lashing out at a blue that gets too close before lunging at her next kill. It's only a small beast and it flails between her jaws as she latches onto its neck, draining the life from its feebly protesting body as she watches the males with a wary glow to her red-whirling eyes. As for N'ky? He's inside the ground weyr, pressed up against a wall and not at all comfortable. His eyes are scrunched shut in concentration, teeth digging deeply into his bottom lip, with hands balled into fists and tense by his thighs. Reisoth is nothing if not efficient. He's more interested in watching Cailluneth than worrying about his own kill but, perhaps by his rider's urging, he does lower his head to drink soon enough, making short work of the creature's still-hot blood. H'vier is in no hurry to reach the weyr where N'ky is trap-- holing himself away. But the way he glances back at the big Fortian boys following along is a little oddly possessive considering how much N'ky is not his type. This isn't exactly N'rad's first flight, but by all appearances it could be. He and Maldoranth might, by some oddities of timing, have a few months on B'rant and Rhenth. But that doesn't always mean much. The rider, only out of weyrlinghood for a few months now, follows after N'ky with wide, light blue eyes taking in just about everything, though mostly so he doesn't bumble into something. Maldoranth is a little more suave, but only in a clinical sense. He is precise in his kill, selective in his blooding, honed on Cailluneth. Just forget him. B'rant would like to forget that he's even here at /all/, the weyrling in flying gear hanging back as far as he can, while still being in the gathering of people within the cave. For once, he's unconcerned about earthquakes and cave-ins, the teen's features intent yet distant as he's sucked up into Rhenth's lust for the first time ever. Outside, Rhenth's watching Cailluneth with eager glee, though when he scents the mixture of blood and urgency rife on the air, he finally figures out what to do. Teeth sink into the buck's neck, and he suckles carmine vitae from it with dedication, though his crazily-whirling eyes never falter from the lovely green lady. Is Cailluneth lovely, when she's snarling and lunging with splayed claws towards Reisoth, for him simply being too close for her liking? Perhaps; beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all. That lunge towards the older bronze is followed by a roar of defiance to those others who dare close in on her, and the thickset green takes the only route out of there that she's got - skywards. Silver-limned wings beat downwards as she gains height in the twilight that's faded to near-dark, bellowing a challenge to her would-be suitors as she demonstrates an agility that mightn't be expected from a dragon with such an amply supply of babyfat rounding out her big-boned frame. With his lifemate airborne, N'ky draws in a sharp, panicked breath: it's all just become very real, and he blinks blearily at his surroundings, not quite able to concentrate on them when he's having to work so hard to keep his lifemate from tearing into a brown that's joined the flight by diving in from above. He's met with claws that barely miss rending his side wide open... but it's enough to put him off as he drops out straight away. Reisoth, at least, doesn't seem terribly put off by the snarling, though he does mantle his long, dark wings at her lunging, snaking his neck and snapping back at her shortly before she's launching herself skywards. He simply watches for a moment, and then he's in the sky after her, whirling eyes locked on the smaller dragon as he follows in cool silence for now, waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of. H'vier has been around the proverbial block more times than he can probably remember at this point. He might be a bastard most of the time but the fact that his dragon is chasing the green of a young man doesn't seem to be one of those things he gets agitated about. It's something you get used to. He's left behind in a sweep of pinions and dust. Hey, wait; I was still eating! Though untried, Rhenth's not foolish, however, and he understands innately that the first to 'grab' Cailluneth wins..and so up his huge wings carry him, his massive form not doing him any favors in a Flight that's so heavily based on speed and dexterity. Eyes on the prize of that lovely, luscious, silver-green lady who outspeeds them all, Rhenth offers an answering, loud bugle of want and heated joy. I'm /here/ and I'm yours! Contrasting with H'vier, B'rant is all agitation, his fists clenched at sides, the teen's eyes heated and distant, his lips thinned, expression taut. With his dragon's ascent, his grays go wider and he presses back into the cool rock wall so near, then sparing only a conflicted glance at the curly-haired N'ky before being subsumed in his bronze's mind again. Overly-brave blue Darcielth puts on a burst of speed to try and out-manoevre Cailluneth. Paws stretched out to her, talons flexing, he makes his move -- but she sees him coming, and a barrel-roll out of the way has her claws raking along his side, snagging briefly in his wing. His howl of hurt as he loses altitude is matched by a cry of pain in the ground weyr from his rider, April; where she was pressed closer than any others to N'ky, she now darts out to go tend to her injured lifemate. Cailluneth seems unbothered by her fallen brother - in fact, she lets out a near gleeful challenge for those trailing in her acrobatic wake, daring them to fly faster and harder, to get closer to her as she leads them higher and further. N'ky looks blankly at April as she leaves, blinking at H'vier, then B'rant, before swallowing hard and... well, facing the inevitable, really, by shucking his flight jacket and letting it fall to the floor, then crouching to unfasten the laces on his boots. They're kicked off and abandoned. Reisoth doesn't push himself at first. A tactic that's somewhat more useful when chasing something a little more golden. But here it lets him study the green, to observe the way she moves and find patterns in behavior that might otherwise seem unpredictable at the moment. The bronze picks up the pace somewhat but avoids any wasteful acrobatics. He's too big for that anyway, it would lose him the speed that's so valuable to him at the moment. Ignoring other dragons, Reisoth starts to close some distance between himself and Cailluneth, finally rumbling a deep sound that's easier felt than heard at this speed. Below, H'vier watches N'ky removing some of his clothing. He's still more himself than Reisoth but there's still a certain intensity to the way he watches the greenrider that betrays the lust of the moment. He's gaining with sweeps of his pinions that hurtle Rhenth through the skies like a cruise missile, and he's too focused on Cailluneth to really do more than peripherally notice Darcielth's fall. His own 'tactic' is simple and pure determination. If any of his fellow suitors are as harsh as the green they chase after, he'll try to stay away from them, given that /she's/ his all, right now. And from his supportive wall, B'rant's slowly pushing off of, and starting to wincingly step towards the now disrobing N'ky..dragged closer by his dragon's urges that are becoming his own. The conflict on his face is oh-so-slowly being washed away by raw /need/, but the fright is still there in the background. N'ky doesn't look any more happy about it all than B'rant does, but perhaps he knows it's all coming to an end because... well, he's fumbling at the buttons of his shirt now, awkwardly trying to get them undone while his mind's so deeply connected with Cailluneth's. Up above the Weyr, the silvery green seems to be finally losing some steam, though she pushes harder to try and cover up the fact. Her wings beat down harder and she banks to the side to avoid one incoming brown so that he overshoots his mark with no chance for recovery and gets a tail-lashing for his efforts; the move causes her to lose some of her ground though, meaning she's drawing on the last reserves of her energy to try and outfly the boys who've dared keep up with her. Opportunity. That's what Reisoth was waiting for. The bronze breaks his gaze away from Cailluneth briefly to glance around him, calculating the probabilities of those nearest before he makes a move of his own. He banks to the side slightly as he follows the green, cutting off a blue behind him with sheer size. That size means he has to rely on power when cunning runs a little dry, so that's what he does. He pushes forward, rushing in regained silence to try overtaking the green before she can dart away. An echo of his dragon, H'vier's moving more unconsciously toward the greenrider. Oh! She's falling back, which means it's his time! Putting on a burst of speed, his twin hearts hammering quadruple time, Rhenth gains ground more and more on the dextrous, savage, silver-green siren, letting some of the other males tire themselves out with too much too soon tactics, or for other reasons, like getting /too/ close to Cailluneth. He can see from her wingbeats and motions that she's tiring fast, and it's at this point that the Fortian weyrling makes his move with a massive burst of speed -- as much as his huge frame is capable of -- and a reaching of claws and bent tail for the 'Reachian green. Croon! Be with me! And B'rant..is stepping forward in agonized fashion, pace by long pace, dragged against his will by his dragon's need to converge on N'ky with all the other male-riders left over to try and catch him/Cailluneth. Too close for Rhenth earns him something far less desireable than the capture he's hoping for; Cailluneth musters the energy for one last roll, curling cresent-shaped to scrape hind claws along the bronze's hide, while her teeth snap towards his neck. In dodging one though, she's not wary enough of the others - and her roll takes her straight into Reisoth's path, where wings become tangled and she becomes his. With a cry that's less defeat and more desire, Cailluneth doesn't surrender to him - she willing gives herself over to his pleasure. The sudden change in his green's mind has N'ky's eyes snapping open, mouth parted in shock and lust as he seeks... him. His wingmate. Breathing heavily, N'ky reaches for H'vier, fingers clutching desperately into his clothing to close the distance between them. OwwWWW! Rhenth is left creeling his pain to the uncaring skies when savage Cailluneth gives him a swipe of her claws to remember her by, the bronze too inexperienced to do anything else but cringe away from that which causes him pain. The wounding isn't bad, but her talons still draw ichor from the Fortian's chest. Not even bothering to watch Reisoth's catch of the green, Rhenth drops down, down, to finally land in the main Bowl, where B'rant -- his wide eyes showing him to be back within his own body -- staggers out to in order to both console his dragon, and direct him towards the dragonhealing cave. And after that? Neither have any urge to hang around, instead Betweening home towards whatever awaits them. So much for 'business' and a drink. Reisoth is prepared to catch the green, twining himself with her smaller frame in a way he's rather well-practiced at. She's in good hands. Wings. Whatever. He knows what he's doing! So does H'vier, though it's difficult to say whether or not that's a good thing for N'ky. The bronzerider doesn't really wait for the place to clear out or anything before he's practically picking the greenrider up to throw him on the bed and get any extraneous clothing out of the way with a desperate urgency. |
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