Logs:Urgent
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| RL Date: 18 February, 2015 |
| Who: Ilicaeth, Hraedhyth |
| Type: Log |
| What: Fight. 'Nuff said. |
| Where: HRW Eastern Bowl |
| When: Day 19, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snow |
| Mentions: Cadejoth/Mentions, Alida/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Warrior dragons doing what they do! |
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| The scouring of furnace-hot, ocher sands seeps at his dam's mental front door. There are no words from Ilicaeth, but the blue's (frustrated) sense of action can no longer bear up under the pressure of so much darkness and twisted emotion from his rider. He must have an outlet...and who better to provide that (while also not going completely overboard, like, say, Lythronath would) than the tawny gold? A heavy rustle of eye-marked wings presages his rough, almost snarled sending, « I need your fierceness. » (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth) Hraedhyth is already fierce, already displeased. While Niahvth has been welcome into the fold with little issue, now the rival gold is glowing. It's not much, but it's a reminder of an unspoken, primal challenge that has not yet been issued-- and she's right next door. Ilicaeth provides a sudden and unwanted distraction, heat meeting with heat as her flames wrap around him, cradling the blue. While she does not yet lend her power, his dam lends her strength in order to keep him steady as she finds out « What. » (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth) Perhaps his own growing ferocity has also been influenced by that intoxicating boquet of Niahvth's extended state of proddiness, but the blue only *truly* understands his own just as primal urge to challenge, to engage in 'the dance.' Not mating, this time, but still it is the meeting of bodies, teeth, claws in the ages-old spewing of a physical clash. Thoughts - searing and urgent - of Lythronath/Hraedhyth having it out merge with others of Tacuseth/Hraedhyth, then culminating with Ilicaeth/Hraedhyth 'scuffling' out in the Bowl as they have done before...the sounds of draconic battle loud on the air. But not for 'keeps.' Keeps is death. What Ilicaeth wants/needs now is a sound and honest 'fight'...his urgency for that needed venting allowed in a single, rather Lynner-like 'click.' (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth) Hraedhyth is already on the move, roused from Cadejoth's side in order to meet Ilicaeth in a less occupied part of the bowl. She is always up for a fight, to test the strength of those in her pack, no matter what size or hue. That Ilicaeth needs it has dark smoke giving a curious curl, floral incense carried by the inky tendrils. « Why. » (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth) He didn't dare hope she would want this, too, but as soon as the gold acknowledges her offspring's need, Ilicaeth is a-wing from his own ledge - eyes whirling a speedy orange flecked with blue - and descending into the snow upon the rock of the Bowl with a hissing agitation...tail lashing impatiently as he awaits Hraedhyth. No words are sent to his Queen, just the urge for explosive action mixed with the sounds - yet again - of draconic combat. But, at the fringes of the warrior-blue's mind, are so many roiling and conflicting emotions that surely they must be generated by a human. His own human, likely. Those emotions have been dealt with over the weeks/months/years...but *now* they threaten to break Ilicaeth's granite self-control, so fierce are they. Outlet. He NEEDS an outlet. (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth) And so his matriarch will offer that outlet. Hraedhyth doesn't bother with her usual territorial display as she lands, other than a roar of challenge. She screams the agitation that is felt from Ilicaeth, her own upset carried in the bright specks of orange that interrupt her blue gaze. She isn't happy he is in such need, and that floral perfume turns bitter as her flames consume it. She charges, sending up snow as she barrels toward the blue, stopping just short of impact in order to allow him to throw himself against her. Even in battle she knows not to harm those of her tribe, not grievously. She will be the warrior queen that Ilicaeth needs tonight, even if that means exhausting the blue against her tawny hide. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth) Oh yes! YesyesYesYES! She can feel the burly blue radiating his fierce joy in combat promised, Ilicaeth bellowing back at his dam with every ounce of his being as he too lopes in ungainly, draconic fashion directly at Hraedhyth. Flee their fierceness, unworthy ones! Dare them not! With an impact that would perhaps injure enough smaller dragons, the bulky blue's granite-like form finally collides with his larger Queen's with 99% of what he has to give. If he gave it his very *all*, he (and even possibly she) might be mortally wounded. Colliding with Hraedhyth's even bulkier form finds the blue almost bouncing off her tawny self, but not before his long tail has lashed about - whip-scorpion-like - seeking to deliver a brutally harsh smack upside her muzzle. Whatever comes next is certain to draw ichor, elicit more savage sounds, and evoke quite sore bodies...and will paradoxically wind up with the blue - exhausted but sated - curled up with his momma-'bear.' (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth) |
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