Difference between revisions of "Logs:Solith's Maiden Flight"

Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

Late in the afternoon, Rukbat's sinking past a dappled scattering of clouds, sending diffuse shadows across the bowl wherever the cliffs haven't swallowed it in shadow. Solith's found herself yet another still-lit ledge to watch the pens from, the pens and, bright-eyed, the winged beasts beyond them. There's a definite drift of anticipation about the green's thoughts, subtle and shimmered with something nascently intoxicating, but she's in no hurry and hasn't been all day, could seemingly hang out for hours if she felt like it. Telavi, though? Telavi's swinging back into the Snowasis from a freshening up, loose blonde dairymaid braids tossed over her shoulders, approaching the couch she'd been reclining in before and the blonde vintner nearby. "So sorry. Where were we?"

"You were just about to tell me how that shirt collar turned out. The one for your friend." Tayte's answer comes with a warm smile as she leans over to the side table and takes up the equally refreshed drink she'd ordered for Telavi while she had stepped away. "And you were saying, too, about the lesson at weaver?"

For once, it seems, K'zin doesn't look like he's here to drink. He has a few rolled papers in one hand and has paused just a ways into the room from the garden patio ledge to exchange some quiet words with a curvy woman from the lower caverns. From the way his stance is, and the way he's speaking with her, it doesn't look like he's hitting on her, so maybe she's a different sort of acquaintance. There's a gesture to the hides in his hand from the woman, a shake of K'zin's head and something that makes his expression serious, but in the next moment she's saying something, and he's laughing. Soon enough the conversation is wrapped up and he's stepping away from the woman and her companions to scan the room. He's a man on a mission, the rolled up papers tapping idly on his thigh.

With the weyrlings so close to graduation, there's so much less for a Weyrlingmaster to do - work-wise, anyway. Quinlys has largely sidelined her personal life, these recent months, preferring to maintain a less obvious persona, but that seems to be coming to an end. It may be not yet evening, but she's been in the Snowasis for a while, and anyone paying any kind of attention would be well aware that she's been flirting up a storm with two greenriders at her table, one male and one female. Out in the bowl, Olveraeth is navigating the thermals, lightly shifting from one to the other at a glide: if he can get by without any wingbeats at all, well, and why not?

And for once, too, Alida's not here to drink, but to talk with some people. The pale-blonde is sitting at a stool beside a Glacier greenrider, the pair trading some soft talk that inspires both to smirk or cackle at various points. But now, now the greenie has someplace else to be, and with a few rough gestures and more words, he's taking his leave of the weyrling, who flips him off and grins.

Blonde perhaps attracts blonde, as, to add to the two already sitting together, there comes along a third, brushing his pale forelock back from his face as he comes to lean in over the back of one of the chairs. R'co dangles a bag by a drawstring in front of Tayte by way of hello, winking at Telavi as a cheeky apology for interrupting. "Freshly made this morning, darling," he explains to the Vintner; the scent from the bag will be familiar to the woman, perhaps needing no explanation for what's inside. He holds it there until she's ready to take it. As for Deveriteauxth? He's chilling on the Southern Rim, flirting with some green.

"The collar. Yes!" Telavi crosses her legs within the loose skirt she wears, draws them close to her and then stretches them out again, toes pointing. Her gaze tracks the glass Tayte's holding for a moment, drifts higher for a moment at the sound of some laughter or other, up to the ceiling and back to the woman's face. She leans forward long enough to confide, "Forgive me. Just now, the collar might have fuzzy pompoms the size of earlobes trimming it, for all I can really say." And then, incoming. R'co gets a breezy smile for that wink: she'll forgive him, this time.

N'ky enters the Snowasis, even more sunkissed than he was when he was last in the bar, a mere handful of hours ago, and with the knees of his khaki work-pants even more muckied up than they were previously. Wherever he's been and whatever he's been doing since he left Alida behind has left a lingering work tiredness about him as well as grass and mudstains on his knees, and it's with that air that he scans the cavern, spotting... a number of familiar faces. He squints and chews on his lip as he tries to decide who to go to, but it's Alida who wins out; he meanders through the crowd to fall in silently by her side.

"Just over a seven," confirms Quin, swinging out of her chair and to her feet. "And then we can do something fun, no interruptions." The grin she aims at her two companions is irrepressible, even if it comes right before she turns around to meander - swagger, even - towards the bar in search of another drink. Her fingertips clatter against the wood surface as she waits her turn, her hair tossed over her shoulder.

To Solith, Cadejoth is far above the weyr, distant, and thoroughly enjoying himself. It's windy and cold up here, but the air is so clear, and so lovely. She should join him. It's boring, when K'del has to work all the time (so boring), but this is still fun without him.

"Fuzzy pompoms," Tayte echoes in that way she has of digesting information. Then, with a squint of her eyes, as though she might just be questioning Telavi's sense of style, "Fuzz-eee!" Her questioning is cut short by the dangle of the scented bag, expression as excited as the squeal might suggest. "You're the best! I was almost out." Mournful, "How did you know?" She twists in her seat after snagging the bag to look up at the browndrider. To Telavi, she offers by way of explanation, "R'co makes amazing scented bath scrubs and creams and all kinds of things. Have you met?"

She's noted, noting where various people are, but those she knows are left alone, for now, Alida enjoying her current status of 'lone wolf' in the sea of humanity within the Snowasis. And then there's a N'ky approaching her, the bluie's mellow features sliding into an expression of mixed curiosity and consideration as she bobs her head to the greenrider. Quinlys' nearby, assumed station at the bar earns her a laconic, "Can't wait ta be fully rid uv us, eh?" and a small smirk. The weyrling really can't blame her.

Rasavyth's a stalker. No, really. For some reason, he seems to find Solith particularly interesting today. He can't quite put his finger on it. It's a puzzle. So, while he's kept his distance, the bronze is perched on a ledge, not his own, that provides him with a view of that green. His ambient mind is thoughtful and observant as he attempts to untangle the web of enigma Solith has become in his mind. Solith, who is usually so simple. But it's not Telavi, right now, that K'zin is concerned with though her presence, and Alida's and N'ky's is all taken in in his sweeping glance. It's lucky Quinlys who is the bullseye of the young bronzerider's purposeful stride. "Weyrlingmaster Quinlys?" Salute! Nothing says 'casual' like a salute in Snowasis, right?

She'd flown before, not long, but still. Perhaps she should indeed. « I have to watch them, » she explains in a whisper. Shhh, don't tell, not that it isn't so very clear anyway. (To Cadejoth from Solith)

To Solith, Cadejoth is not always the sharpest tool in the shed, and it takes him a moment, and then-- oh. There's a bright flare, a spark that travels up and down his mental chains. And then, a moment later: « K'del says I should fly further and further. » Away, in other words. Far away.

"Blonde intuition, darling," R'co explains to Tayte, winking at her as he leans in to press a hello-kiss to her cheek, now that she's turned around. His light blue eyes track eagerly over to Telavi though when his friend talks him up so effusively, and he purses his lips and pretends to act coy. "Oh, Tayte," he waves dismissively at her, though he clearly enjoying every second of it. A hand is extended to the greenrider, and he smiles warmly at her. "R'co. Brown Deveriteauxth's. Did I see you drilling with Snowdrift? I think we may have met then, though there's so many of you weyrlings that it's hard to tell, sweets."

"And you're not desperate to be rid of me," points out Quinlys, turning around so that she can rest her elbows on the top of the bar and lean backwards, regarding Alida levelly, her gaze expanding to include those others who approach near her. K'zin's greeting, however, makes her twitch. "Can't I be off duty for one afternoon, shells. What do you need K'zin, and make it quick. I have more things planned for today."

Away? « Why? » What fun would that possibly be? So much nicer here, on the rock, with the setting sun and the ambulatory bags of blood that smell so very, very nice. She hasn't decided which one yet, but soon. Soon. « I think you should pick one for your very own. » (To Cadejoth from Solith)

To Solith, Cadejoth, it's true, isn't so sure of this away business, either. It seems much less interesting than here, which has... well, a number of things going for it, and Solith numbered highly amongst them. « I would take the biggest one, » he decides, which is perhaps already tacit admission that he is going to follow his rider's request, however much he'd rather not.

"This is not an endorsement," Tela's sure to say of pompoms, right before the blink that turns into an even brighter smile up at R'co there. "I'm a very big fan of... Snowdrift," she says to Tayte. "Although I haven't gotten a chance to get acquainted with everyone. There are, after all, so many of us, and we just scurry in and out like... like the well-trained creatures we are, really," said even if her weyrlingmaster isn't exactly in earshot, even if she isn't exactly aware of the not-blonde to begin with. Her dimples are showing too, right before she reaches out to attempt to turn over R'co's hand just that little bit more, the better to inspect his nails.

On the other side of Alida from where Quinlys is, N'ky has to peer around the bluerider to see the Weyrlingmaster. "I wouldn't mind staying on in Cirrus a while longer," he admits quietly, catching the attention of a barkeep to order himself a juice. No booze, nothing fancy; the meagre selection of marks he pours onto the counter to pick through for the right amount to pay with suggests he maybe can't afford anything better at present. With the addition of K'zin to their little knot of people, he quietly leans against the bar, looking awkwardly down at his toes and running his finger over a bump in the countertop.

And Ilicaeth? *He's* hanging out on his lower ledge, watching...everybody. Well, as many as he can observe, anyway. The blue's half-open eyes whirl a lazy green as he just splays there, even as his rider grins at Quinlys, and nods quite openly. "Uv course I do." She seems about to say something else when K'zin goes all salutely, and - with a silent and small eyeroll to herself - the blonde simply quiets and settles into observer mode. Her eyes don't remain constantly glued to the bronzer and other bluie - greens shifting about to note where others sit or stand - but they do often return to more present company. A look over her shoulder for N'ky's take on the whole Wing situation finds the woman grunting, noting quietly to him, "No time like the present fer dreams, eh?" She can't help but notice his demeanor.

R'co's nails are perfect. Manicured, buffed, clean - and his hand is soft, of course. It even smells slightly fruity, if Telavi gets that close. "I'm a beautician, darling," he explains, perhaps a tad patronisingly. "I'd do an awful job plying my trade if I couldn't pull off a decent manicure." After allowing her as long as he likes to inspect his hand, he wiggles his fingers playfully, giving the greenrider a playful, flirty little squeeze before gently withdrawing them. "Tayte, of course, makes Pern's best cocktails. There's a fabulous fruity one that I simple love - right, darling?"

"He also gives marvelous massages. He studied with the healers before." Before riderhood, before now at any rate. "But," Tayte quirks a brow up at R'co with an amused purse of her lips, as though she were about to reveal a state secret, "You have to watch his hands don't wander if you haven't engaged his professional services." Then she's throwing a wink of her own up to the blonde, even as her hand moves to touch Telavi's arm lightly and then offer a smile to the greenrider. "I'd say there are several fabulous fruity ones that you love, but probably one more than most." She'll agree before asking, "Join us for a drink, Roc?"

"I'm desperate to be rid of you," K'zin chimes in, helpfully. Because he was clearly invited to the conversation between Quinlys and Alida. He flashes a smile to the bluerider and beyond to N'ky. When his eyes come back to the Weyrlingmaster, however, his look is serious, "You said to come to you if I needed anything. You didn't say only when you were on duty." He holds up the rolled paper, not letting go initially, "If you've other things to do this afternoon, I wouldn't look at these just now. But it's the drawings that we talked about. I thought you might want to put it with-- well, everything else." Once she understand the contents of the rolled papers, then he'll let them go.

Quinlys, cheerful and unrepentant in her off-duty way, laughs. "Soooooooo not going to happen, N'ky. I want you guys out of there, so I can get some rest, shells. I might be the only person in the Weyr who isn't desperate for one of those queens to rise, you know?" Her own drink arrives, and she turns to claim it, but doesn't make any immediate moves to retreat. Part of that is probably because of K'zin, to whom she listens with wry attention... though she's also keeping half an eye on Telavi, across the room. "Trust Solith to do things ahead of time. It's not supposed to happen on my watch, you know? Watch out for her. -- Oh, fine. Give them here." She'll stick the roll of papers into her back pocket, and wave an idle hand: later, later. She's busy. And drinking.

Oh, Cadejoth. Is Solith disappointed? In him? « I cannot save it for you, » she must say. In fact, she might kill it first. Someday. When she gets around to killing. (To Cadejoth from Solith)

To Solith, Cadejoth is disappointed. In... a lot of things, probably, but he's restraining himself. Maybe... next time. « He says to tell her good luck, and that he thinks it's better if we're not there. But... you should kill it first, and enjoy it, and we will see you later. » That's probably not all from K'del. « The air is lovely, today. » It's encouragement.

"It must be so delightful for you that you have time for such things amid a rider's busy life," Telavi murmurs to R'co, round-eyed, only then... oh, what Tayte says. "Massages, you can study that, truly?" Oh, there's the issue of the wandering hands too, she might remember that later, only just now lessons, and lessons are for Turndays. She leans into Tayte's touch, is surely about to say more, except that's when Solith stretches, strrrretches, and at last leaves that ledge for good. She might just be wandering to find a new ledge, she's done that before, might. But it's then that another rider who's been paying better attention taps Tela on the shoulder, murmuring something to her even as her dragon drifts by Rasavyth atop his borrowed ledge, floats down closer-- but not too close-- by Ilicaeth, and... where next? She's still deciding. But Telavi straightens all of a sudden like she's just been reminded of an appointment and says, "Excuse me." This time, she's leaving by the Snowasis exit, not the lower caverns', out into the snow. And she's forgotten her coat.

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.

Quinlys has her drink in hand and K'zin's drawings in her back pocket when abruptly she draws herself away from the bar and says, "Right then. Well, fuck. Chasing former weyrlings is bad enough, but current ones?" It's surprisingly business-like, though, her tone, and so is her walk as she strides away, paying no attention to whether the other weyrlings around her are following suit. She's calm enough to collect up her coat, and even to stick the drawings into the inner pocket, before she heads out into the bowl. She's calm enough, too, when she arrives in the guest weyr, though she'll drain her drink in a single gulp all the same, before claiming a wall for her own.

That's a snort, right there. An airy snort, but a snort all the same... and then a taste of what it feels to be her, the shifting quality, the so-sensitive awareness of wind against hide touching, touching, the delicious flow of ichor in her own veins before she ever drinks another's. She won't tell him to go on. She'll just... go. (To Cadejoth from Solith)

K'del's blonde head ducks out from the weyrleader's complex, bare; he keeps himself not quite out of sight, but not obvious: just a man, getting some fresh air, as riders, Telavi included, begin to make their way to the guest weyr. And then he turns, heading back inside - apparently entirely unaffected. Cadejoth? Not Interested In This Green. Allegedly.

Go. Cadejoth's not there in body, but in spirit, in mind? In yearning? Go. (To Solith from Cadejoth)

R'co pretends to be offended by Tayte talking of his wandering hands, and he bats kittenishly at her. "I am a masseuse too, though thoroughly professional." He manages to deliver that with a deadpan serious expression... followed by a smirk. "Though I'm not opposed to giving customers a little something extra, if they ask for it." Wink wink, nudge nudge and all that. "The fruitier the better, sweetness, you know me! And I think I might just join you for a quickie, darling - if it's alright with the lady?" That being Telavi, of course. Telavi who's getting up to leave, and who Deveriteauxth... well. "Oh." R'co understands, and, with the rising interest of his brown outside, gets up to follow. He's sensible enough to pick up his coat on the way out too, following the string of riders towards the guest weyr. He's been here, done it all before, so he's calm enough, picking a spot not too far from Quinlys to lean against. "One of yours, isn't she?" The brownrider tilts his head towards Telavi, breaking his gaze from the blonde to flicker blue briefly towards the Weyrlingmaster.

K'zin's confusion is comedic, almost cartoonish, as Rasavyth figures out the secret! For once, he even lets K'zin in on it immediately. The string of curses is impressive. There's at least five 'F' adjectives for every Faranthian body-part that gets named. And the string stretches from Snowasis all the way to the guest weyr. All the emotion of mental clarity has boiled down to the easiest emotion: anger. For someone participating in their first greenflight, the bronzerider looks pissed. His arms are thrown across his chest as he finds a stretch of wall. The object of his anger? Actually, Telavi. How dare she have a green dragon rising to mate. How dare she.

Jo's nowhere to be found at first, but Tacuseth is. The blue arrives in stealthy fashion, first not there, and then suddenly there. He keeps his distance from Solith, but his gaze never leaves off her while his erstwhile rider is throwing evil glares towards the guest weyr that she's approaching. Luckily, she's not alone: Kaitlin and her Jormunth are there as well, the brown lifting to join Tacuseth while the ladies both enter the weyr. Kait doesn't break her ongoing low conversation she's engaged in with Jo - despite her voice getting increasingly strained. Like shadows, they linger near the back wall, only falling silent when they close in on the other riders present.

Not only is Telavi a weyrling, not only does she have a green dragon rising to mate, but she also has a remarkably pleased smile for the kindly rider who's carried her those last lengths for her soft shoes' sake. As Solith circles, she lingers with her arms about the grizzled man's neck, as Solith floats, she eases herself so carefully to her toes, as Solith... then Telavi doesn't have eyes for anything at all, because Solith's decloaked: no longer a light breeze but a half-controlled gust, sweeping past Olveraeth and Tacuseth and down for the largest beast in the herd, just because she can. Solith doesn't need permission, today. Solith takes it, claws and then teeth and Telavi swallows hard, pushing the man away, pushing herself away from him, swallowing and swallowing as Solith does. She tries to say something, chokes on it.

"Yes, so back off," says Quinlys in reply to R'co. That must have something to do with Olveraeth - with the way he's dropping into the feeding grounds, now, blooding his kill. In fact, her voice lifts, directed not just to R'co, but to the rider who was helping Telavi, and to everyone else for good measure: "Anyone hurts her, I will hurt you back. She's a weyrling, my weyrling, and I'm here to protect her." It might work better as a rousing speech of the bluerider weren't staring at Tela with undisguised lust, already falling into the rising emotions of her blue. Calmly, she begins to remove her coat. Something about flights always does make Quinlys strip.

Deveriteauxth abandons the green he was nestled against, diving down to the pens to snare one a smaller beast for blooding. He's dainty about it, no mess, no fuss, just eyes fixed firmly on Solith while he drains his catch, muscles tensed so he's ready when she is. R'co smirks at Quinlys's threat, dipping his gaze to her and trying to hide his laugh behind dainty fingers held up to his lips. "To protect or to join in, sweets?" He questions playfully, shimmying away from the bluerider as if he's sure that might rattle her cage. His blue eyes are all for Telavi then; he might be leaning casually against the wall for now, but he's tuned in to his brown, and aware of the other riders in the weyr, too. Especially the other weyrling, who gets a cautious glance before his attention returns to the star of the show.

Airy, a little snarky, all Ilicaeth: « Ya' know, if I PRETEND I know what's going on, this is actually kind of exciting. » Yes; it's the blue, enacting his cutting, witty snark...pretty much clueless. (To Tacuseth, Rasavyth, Olveraeth, and Deveriteauxth from Ilicaeth)

Jormunth launches into the sky, right as Tacuseth leaps down more sleekily towards a fat wherry for the kill. Perhaps it's the exact same wherry Solith goes for? Even so, the blue is still diving while his Jo watches all the activity going on before her and Kait. As always with flights and her, hard eyes linger most on Telavi, but they cut to those others that talk and laugh and toss warnings. Even Kaitlin's gone silent, arms folding across her chest as she tosses her blonde locks back drags her heated gaze all over the green weyrling of the hour.

To Ilicaeth, Deveriteauxth may be distracted, but he's got an airy, icy reply for the blue, laced with his typical aniseed and cold. « You blood. You fly. You catch. You fuck. » It's accompanied by images, sensations - ending in the overwhelming bliss of a draconic orgasm. « Stay grounded. More greens for me. »

Rasavyth looks like a dragon caught on a string, following with an almost helpless air toward Solith as she descends. But then he's veering to one side. The hunting grounds. How he had missed this as a future problem... well, everyone miscalculates sometimes, right? Even smart dragons. Well, there are others hunting, and that's always been his tactic. Let the others get them going and then snag a weak one for a snack. Leave hungry and come back later for another bite when another dragon was hunting. There's plenty of dragons scaring the beasts about now and his tactic works effectively to score himself the smallest, weakest beast in the herd. Kill one goes okay. But, he's a bronze. A small bronze, but a bronze. He's going to need more than just that youngling for fuel. Solith's not the only one with secrets though. There's a secret side to Rasavyth that's oft not seen, one that Jo might recognize in K'zin's voice as his anger becomes nothing, his body posture relaxing to one that's cocky, and just vaguely amused. "Go on, Quin. What better way to protect her than to get your body right up against her. You can warm her up for me, or me up for her." Whichever, "Or both at once if you're talented."

He examines what's offered by the brown, though the orgasm is a bit beyond him. Still, as they're up in the air, and 'Reaches womenfolk are known for their claws: « Nice location for a beating. Real scenic. » (To Deveriteauxth from Ilicaeth)

To Solith, Olveraeth is star-swept, a night sky beckoning her onwards and upwards: just think of where you could be flying, now! How high, how far, how fast. Of course, there's something beneath that: a yearning, a longing, an endless pumping of ichor in his veins. Oh yes. Yes.

To Solith, Deveriteauxth's cool mind clinks with ice, glittery sugar floating in a hazy mist of milky green. He's curious about her, the tickle of whiskers brushing against her thoughts, trying to get to know her, while his aniseed mindscent weaves its way through a Bohemian mist to reach out to her. There's the promise of wooing and poetry, should she desire it; the quick release of mating bliss, if not. « You will fly like a summer leaf on a gentle zephyr. » His voice is a little rough, his words heavy in comparison to the lightness of his mind's feel, accented and gruff - like a long-smoking Frenchman. « I will be honoured to chase such beauty. »

So Solith has her kill, and it's a large beast and all, and she hasn't even drunk it quite dry when suddenly she's... not bored, exactly, but inclined toward better things. Other things. Deveriteauxth's so dainty. Does she want to be dainty? Even Rasavyth's caught one, she's even noticed. Her wings rustle and rustle against each other as though feeling the need to touch something, even if it's only herself. Telavi rubs her arms, cold, no jacket to take off the way Quinlys had, except it's not just cold. "Fuck," she says, distinctly, right in the middle of Solith diving sharply for the pens, towards her next tricky choice, towards... Tacuseth, who's right there and Telavi's all of a sudden running for the exit because it's not that Solith's giving way, exactly, it's that the wherry's dodging and then Solith's slamming into the fence, paws out and braced and look, that wherry all of a sudden has more room to roam. A lot more. It's an escapade.

Quinlys' answer to R'co is prompt: "Fuck you." Well, no. Fuck Telavi, but in the other way: the good way. The much-wanted way that now has her dropping her jacket on the floor, and beginning to work on the buttons of her shirt. She doesn't get very far, though, because K'zin's words have her gaze snapping up. "Don't you dare fucking talk about her like that, weyrling. Don't you da-- whoa, whoa, whoa." All of the sudden, buttons are less important; much more important is throwing herself from the wall so that she can wrap both arms around Telavi and stop her, breathing something into her ear as she does so. Out in the pens, Olveraeth rears back from the sudden escape route, but he's got a beast of his own to deal with: to kill with a sudden, pert snap, and to drain, drinking deep.

Quinlys mutters to Telavi, "Whoa... Tellllaaaaa.... a... Is breathing... sexy? Maybe."

Quinlys whispers to Telavi, "Whoa there, Tellllaaaaa. Stay here a while. I've got you. Everything's juuuuuust fine." Is breathing into someone's ear and neck sexy? Maybe.

To Ilicaeth, Deveriteauxth was obliged to give a question a response, but the young blue's non-understanding of the situation doesn't appeal to the flight-driven state of mind he's slipping deeper into. And so, the young blue is given a gentle mental push away, a blockade of glittering ice forming between them, with one lingering thought pressing through: he has sex to concentrate on.

She's exhilarated. Soon. Soon. There might even be the visible physical stars, by the time she's done, now that she's set them free, now that she can hunt for real... why has she never done this before? This is the best. (To Olveraeth from Solith)

Maybe some part of K'zin knows Quinlys isn't really complying with his suggestion for her. But then she is. The bronzerider's look is smug, "Now, grab her hair and kiss her," He suggests, his words slightly accented in the manner of one well-educated and precise with his tongue. Rasavyth-incarnate. Rasavyth-the-dragon is having much less luck, especially now that the beasts have somewhere to escape to. His next several attempts to catch a beast are ... well, frankly, pathetic, and he comes up empty every time.

"You're welcome to, darling," R'co coos back to Quinlys, though he doesn't look at her. There are other things for his light blues to settle on, even if the pretty redhead's shedding clothes already. Ok, so he can't quite stop from looking in case he gets a flash of the bluerider's boobs, but then there's a running greenrider and that wasn't scripted, was it? He steps towards the Weyrlingmaster and weyrling, shooting K'zin a filthy look and a distracted, "Not now." Sure, under other circumstances, that sort of talk might work for him... but now? He hovers just beyond the reach of the women in front of him, there to help if needed, but not willing to engage unless asked. Deveriteauxth seems unfazed by the smashed pen; he actually bugles encouragement to Solith, spreading his massive wings as he takes down a second beast that might have escaped, if it had been lucky. He's only half-interested in blooding it though, toying with its neck as he watches Solith and tenses up, anticipating her leap skywards.

To Solith, Deveriteauxth is all encouragement - sugary encouragement with the burn of alcohol to add fuel to her flightfire. « Bravo, madame! » The glitter and flash of a sequinned burlesque dancer is his applause for her... his eagerness for her to rise, too, with the slinky, seductive thoughts he sends her way, and the promise of a sweet coupling to follow the chase.

With a runaway wherry on the loose, Tacuseth draws up short and reverses his momentum to sink teeth into a smaller wherry to drink. When he's done, his shriek is more of a call, perhaps to beckon Solith back; as the drama unfolds, Jo watches Telavi trying to barreling out of the weyr, her own back up against the wall with her fists thrusting into pockets. At least on the outside, for now? She's the perfect picture of dragon poker-faced calm, saying little at this stage - especially to Kaitlin right beside her. The two seem content to watch it all unfold before them, Jo lifting a brow as the other riders try to stop what's about to be a runaway greenrider.

Telavi twists in Quinlys' arms, her milkmaid-braids already coming undone the way her weyrling-braids never have. Her hair is long, her foot is light, her eyes are wild... and yes, her neckline is low. "But," is all she can say, dragging in a breath, letting herself be dragged back and dragged in. Flight-dark eyes have only an inkling of blue as they pass over K'zin, lingering but not quite comprehending. It's not his voice, though, not really, she doesn't have to answer the way she might. And Jo, Kaitlin who Searched her, Kaitlin who got her into this, she doesn't even seem to see the brownrider or the others, really, though Solith very much does see Jormunth. Solith very much does hear Deveriteaux. Solith very much does smell... that one, there, among the beasts who're making their escape? They're clip-winged, they aren't fun, but still she gets to hunt. Not the leader, but one of the wilier ones behind, who's conserving its energy but only conserves it for Solith. The green snares it and drags it skyward with her, neck twisting down to blood mid-air, wasting energy with every strong wingbeat but in such a cause. Are there laggards? Now she looks about, not down but around and then up. Tacuseth shrieks. She doesn't go back. Discarding the wherry in a bloody, feathers-flying illusion of its own flight, she goes up. There are clouds up there. She'd like some of those.

Quinlys wins, you guys. She's got her arms around Telavi and everything! Also, there's cleavage, both her own (thank you, half-unbuttoned shirt) and Telavi's. She drags, oh yes, the greenrider back in, drawing her all the way back towards the bed, clearly not intending to let her go. The others in the weyr? She's not paying them any mind, not even when her breath escapes her, the very moment when Olveraeth follows the green up into the sky. There are stars out here, even if they're not visible, yet. Hang around long enough - fly around long enough, and they'll see. Stars. "Good," Quinlys is saying. "Good, good. Up and away. Stay with her." But her own gaze is unfocused, now, as much with her blue as she is here and now.

The moment he was waiting for! ... even if the wherry clutched in Solith's claws had him confused for a moment there. Still, Deveriteauxth croons saucily at the rising green, spreading his wings and leaping skywards, his near-bronze bulk a little slower off the ground than some of the more nimble chasers, but, nevertheless, he's up with a downbeat of his prose-lacedwings and chasing after the glowing green prize. R'co has enough awareness to follow Quinlys and Telavi to the bed, where he hovers, unsure of what to do with his hands, but not so keen on the greenrider being hogged like that. If it's Deveriteauxth's day to catch, he doesn't want to fight through Quinlys to get to his prize; but he doesn't know how to prise her away right now. "Share," he suggests, frowning at the bluerider and offering his hand out to the greenrider, to pull her away. If she's even aware enough to notice it.

Not being engaged in Blooding gives Rasavyth something of an edge. (It's his handicap point for his shameful lack of hunting ability.) He's quick on the follow. Of course, take-off... that's another troublesome spot and he's tripping as he goes, scraping his tail on the ground as his dark wings unfurl to reveal their glittering cloak beneath. Up, up into the air he soars, powerful wingstrokes catching him up with Solith in only a few beats. It looks, just for a moment, like the game might be over before it's even really begun. He needs one more good surge to overtake the green and snag her into clutches. But, uh-oh! one spindly little herdbeast isn't enough and when he calls on the energy, it splutters and just isn't there. His foreclaw reaches for her tail, the closest thing he could conceivably snag, even as his wings seem to freeze a moment and he starts to drop back toward the hard bowl below. K'zin's not one to sit back and watch, no, no. He strides purposefully toward Telavi and Quinlys, glancing toward R'co with an almost saucy twist of his lips. He's not there to apparently do anything, he's just there to step closer and basically intending to stand all up in Quinlys' business so he can look over her shoulder and leer down at Tela. (Also, the Quinlys cleavage...)

When Solith doesn't respond to his call - she doesn't come back - Tacuseth tosses his latest kill before taking to the skies. He melds with the currents, letting them buoy him up and further upwards after that spritely green. Jormunth's not too far behind, either, keeping a close pace to Tacuseth's tail - for better to knock the blue out of the way once the green was close enough for them both. All's fair in love and war, right? Meanwhile, the one that did Search Telavi - Kaitlin - is the one that saunters forward, watching both weyrling and Quinlys with hard eyes. Jo seems to have eyes for only Telavi at the moment, for as much as she's not looking to be taking Telavi from the other's arms. Instead, there's a slight smirk on her face, Her gaze slightly unfocused now that the blue has taken to the skies.

She said Telavi's good. Or that something was, at least, but Telavi's dimples aren't showing now. The greenrider's at once flushed and pale, crimson patches high on her cheeks, and the wherry's gone splat but at least Solith hasn't, not yet. It's not that Telavi's struggling to get away, exactly, it's more to get her feet under her, to breathe, not blind to the hand offered to her but blind to its being anything that could help. 'Stay with her,' her weyrlingmaster had said. Telavi tries. And truth be told, Solith makes it too easy, gladly accelerating higher, the rising storm of her intoxicating and to none more so than Telavi. It's early, surely, the beginnings of rapture dawning because this may be old hat to so many others but to her it's the two of them, flying the way they really, really should and Telavi knows it now, she can feel it. Jormunth, Tacuseth and Deveriteauxth may bide their time, but Solith, Solith just goes, headlong, Rasavyth's glittery-winged speed a surprise that urges her on once she finally realizes. Faster, and even so it's almost too late when she feels... not a touch at her tail, precisely, but the movement of the air sliced by talons between them. Her talons curl, and a hitherto stuck-on feather falls, falls in her wake, falls as he falls too.

Quinlys bares her teeth at R'co and his hand, and at K'zin, too. She's loosened her grip, somewhat, but she's not letting go: not if there's any chance the greenrider might, possibly, in another lifetime, have any intention of trying to escape again. Also, she's kind of stroking her, possessively. "Leave her alone," she warns, as if she's completely unaware of her own role in holding Telavi hostage. She doesn't move to shove any of them away, just yet, but - it's not impossible. Olveraeth throws himself into the flight, above: he's another who makes no attempt to bide his time, but instead reach for the green now, early, soon - if he can. Up here, there's a world of wonders, a voyage of more than just imagination, and he is exactly the right vessel in which to set off. Really.

Another body joining the bedside gets a dark look from R'co. A jealous one, perhaps? The sauciness of K'zin's smile is perhaps misinterpreted in the flight-lust state of mind he's in, and he returns it with flicker of his tongue along his bottom lip. "Don't look at me like that without intending to follow through, doll," he purrs distractedly, dropping his attention back to Quinlys and Telavi. At least the latter isn't attempting to break for the bowl any more, and he... well, he's got bared teeth from the former. "Eeeasy, darling," he soothes, though that hand stays out for Telavi. All the better to grasp her with, should he need to? Deveriteauxth dodges to avoid crashing into Rasavyth, an exultant cry emanating from his pale throat as a competitor falls. His wings beat more strongly, the silvery scrawl across their sails glinting as they catch the light, kinetic, living poetry to complement his flight, to woo the damsel who drives his lust.

Well, K'zin's there, right behind Quinlys, his body within an inch of hers. His head pulled forward over the Weyrlingmaster's shoulder to gaze at Telavi, who is, of course, most interesting. But neither Rasavyth nor K'zin have ever been ones to really limit their interest. "There's plenty of time for her, after--" After he catches, "But you didn't say anything about leaving you, alone, Quin." With that, K'zin's head is dipping down to bite-kiss Quinlys' neck. Rasavyth hasn't given up then, catching his fall once it's started, searching his system and tapping into the fuel reserve for regular flight. His limbs strain, wings strain, and he's quickly falling to the back of the blood-fueled pack.

Tacuseth tests the currents a breath more before he's surging forward, whipping his tail as he tries to speed up. He wants to match Solith, but there's other dragons up ahead and it's enough to have him snarling if he could. Rasavyth is near along with Deveriteauxth, but he's trying to bypass the both of them, his wings sleek blue as he tries to shoot right between them. He might attempt to snap his teeth at Rasavyth. Jormunth is staying right on the blue, meanwhile, dipping only long enough to try and sweep past all three of them in earnest.

The sky's reddening with sunset, the higher clouds above them throwing back what remains of sunlight as do the glaciers below them, bright on bright Solith and bright on Deveritauxth's wings but there are so many shadows now, too. She flies for the sunset but Rukbat's just so swift, and so are the dragons, but darkness is catching up and Olveraeth might like stars but she's not yet seeing the light. The outcries spur her on, and it's brilliant, it's wonderful, it's the best, her heart racing like she could do this all day ... except there's not much day left. The starry blue is closer and closer, and he can't have her, this can't be over yet, she's not there yet. Swerving from him rather than beneath and past the way she might have attempted just sevendays ago, she has to dodge an older bronze, was that the man who'd helped her or was that that blue's who's even further back, closer to Facuseth and the others? Except they didn't help her, they helped Telavi, and Telavi can't keep her faces straight, she's not anywhere but in the here and now and all of a sudden hissing because that's her neck. Quinlys', but hers. And then she makes a break for it.

K'zin's teeth and lips make contact with Quinlys' skin, certainly, and Telavi does the hissing for her. What Quinlys does is more determined: one arm releases Telavi, no doubt the reason she's able to make a break for it, for the bluerider is distracted with the elbow she's attempting to aim for sensitive parts of K'zin's anatomy. But her arms are empty, and-- damn it. "Telavi." Olveraeth's wings are empty, too, but he's not in so terrible a position to keep going, so easily able to turn upon a tight angle and shoot off after her again. Night is coming; the stars will come out. And all he needs to do is reach just a little closer-- and closer still. A few more wingbeats, and then, perhaps, there will be a still more glorious dawn to come.

Deveriteauxth is thrown off by the swerve, but not for long; his drills have made him agile, but he's not as nimble as the smaller blues and browns. Still, he works to make up what he may have lost in the manoeuvre, pulling on reserves of speed that the lighter dragons amongst the chasing field may not have. He cuts a scribe's path through the air, single-minded in his focus on Solith, his shadowed paws reaching out towards her, ready to draw her in and weave her into the tapestry of the night's poetry. R'co's closer with his dragon now than before, but Telavi breaking for it can't possibly be missed - he reaches out for her, arms wide to pull her in as his lifemate would do to hers. If she'll allow it. If they'll allow it.

Quick, quick, quick. Everyone is quick! Quin is quick, Tela is quick, R'co is quick, K'zin is quick. It makes for a quick mess, actually. Because Telavi's escape coincides with Quin's swing which coincides with K'zin stepping to one side, blocking R'co's reach, to wrap his own arms around Telavi in a bear hug, but the force of her attempt sends him back a step, which puts the greenrider between Quin's elbow and K'zin's sensitive parts that were the intended target. It's a sobering moment when he feels the impact of Quin's elbow through Telavi, and in the same moment realizes as Rasavyth that there's no way for him to catch up now. Not enough blood. Not enough. He is not enough. He falls. Right past Tacuseth, who successfully delivers a token of his own affection: a solid bite to the shoulder, but at least he misses the wing.

With all the grabbing and biting going about, the elbowing and the bear hugging, Jo is only tensing up when the battle in the skies get heated. Hard eyes land on K'zin as Tacuseth manages to get a bite off Rasavyth, clearing away from the young bronze in an open path to Solith. Rasavyth does in turns get a bite off him as he falls and then the blue is gaining momentum and reaching out with his neck, trying to reach his front in the hopes that the rest of him is very soon to follow. All Solith has to do is slow to him...

Telavi's not looking back, not even at the sound of her name, and there's nothing so gentle as allowing here, she's going whether they like it or-- except whether she likes it or not, her would-be escape sends her slamming into K'zin's arms instead. It's that sudden, that forceful even if only to her, even if really, physically, there hadn't been enough distance from Quinlys for there to be that much momentum. It's not the dragon infirmary, this smaller cavern, full of riders' sweat instead of dragons' medicines, and she reaches desperately to pull close or push away in the instant before that elbow connects with her hip and she cries out, not high-pitched but low, a pained, surprised sound. If she can't get free-- save her. She holds on for dear life. And it's as she does that Solith twists, turns, forcing moment by moment and decision by intuitive decision a narrow escape out of Deveritauxth's shadow-paws and into the fire. Tacuseth has a clear path, but is it the biting that's slowed him that little bit too much, Jormunth about to outdo that scarred-up blue? About to... when it's a different blue who, wingbeat by wingbeat, and there are more than a few wingbeats, at last chases her down. Olveraeth has Solith, now, and this time, Tela's low, surprised sound is altogether different.

Quinlys' elbow impacts with something hard and not soft and squishy (or, uh, semi-hard), and she jolts, spinning around with a look of horror that's only partially lost beneath that general air of lust and want and lust again. She'd try and grab Telavi back from the off-scott-free K'zin, but Olveraeth's impact with the green, so very far above, catches the breath in her lungs and keeps her from doing anything for one moment, and two. As the blue twines his tail with the green, providing all the stars they need, Quin reaches for her charge. In this, then, there can be solace: for Solith, and for Telavi, and for Olveraeth and his Quinlys, too.

K'zin would probably be grateful later that Telavi was so much with Solith that probably very little of the happenings in the here and now will register. Hopefully, Telavi won't register the heart-broken look that K'zin - K'zin, not Rasavyth incarnate - gives the greenrider as he feels Rasavyth returning to find terra firma, the taste of ichor in his mouth. The bronzerider knows she's not his prize tonight. All the same, the surrender isn't immediate, quick, but not immediate. First, his hands shift, since she's clinging to him for dear life there's no chance that she's bolting in this moment. Both of his hands wrap around Telavi's jaw, pulling her mouth to roughly meet with his for a kiss that's not exactly passionate, but is a beast of another emotion entirely. It's a goodbye. Then abruptly his hands drop, skillfully disentangling Tela's fists from his shirt and steps away. Turning and breaking into a near-run before he's even cleared the weyr.

Having overshot his target, Deveriteauxth tries to bank, tries to return, tries to re-- oh, too late. The prize is captured, the story complete; for some other dragon, tonight's lyrics will be love-bound, and Deveriteauxth waxes lyrical to his rider about his defeat as he spirals down, no doubt aiming to reclaim the spot beside the green he abandoned to chase Solith. On the ground, R'co exhales heavily, stepping back and out of the way of Quinlys and Telavi. A hopeful look is cast to the others left freefalling, in case there's the chance of a little something-something there... with the promise that those seeking it will find it from him, he sashays out into the bowl.

With Tacuseth losing Solith to Olveraeth, the blue veers off in the sky, his shriek one of anger. Maybe most had noticed Jo and Kaitlin when they arrived, but save for the swear word coming from the blonde one, most at this point would most likely not notice the pair of them slipping out of the weyr.

Yay, Soli-- solace! The winds are happy now. And look, stars.