Logs:Daehyeth's Flight
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| RL Date: 2 April, 2013 |
| Who: Lia, K'del, Val, N'rov, H'kon, K'til, B'rent |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Daehyeth rises and is caught by the Vijay lover's dragon. |
| Where: Guest Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Foggy |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions |
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| The fog of morning waned in afternoon and resurged at night, blanketing the bowl floor eerily. Lia stands by the feeding pens, her slender frame, pressed against the rails as she watches a luminescent lightly-hued green settled in cozily midst the herdbeasts. Nothing to see here, just a giant green dragon standing like a little green hill surrounded by milling brown shaggy things. The moons are just visible behind a thin veil of clouds. Were Cadejoth smart - or, perhaps more importantly, more discerning (and not in a way that insults any particular glowing greens, okay?) - he probably wouldn't be here right now. But he is here: lurking not too far above the feeding grounds, pale and easily missed in the fog. For now, he circles; he probably won't do that for long. At least his rider is nowhere to be seen. One big brown not-so-shaggy thing is less milling than lurking. Not that Daehyeth's not light-hued already, but that luminescence... that shows up that much more in the night, or would, if it weren't for that fog that makes her seem that much more a ghost. Visigoth has to watch that much more closely, then, from the ledge he's commandeered not far above. His rider? Val's a little tipsy, laughing with friends outside the Snowasis, playing it girly tonight in a dress with fine ribbons in her dark hair. To Daehyeth, all of a sudden, low and gruff and rumbling with humor: « Do they keep you warm? » Discerning? How can he be discerning when a shower of petals streams his way, a welcome fanfare along with unspoken feelings that somehow culminate into one word: Come. Intangible and incorrigible all rolled into one, Daehyeth casts out her net to High Reaches' once Weyrleader dragon. (Daehyeth to Cadejoth) Arekoth was already here once today. Then, it was those shaggy things. This time, it isn't. He comes on the wing, and stays that way, arcing into a slow circle that is totally meant to get in Cadejoth's way. « I could keep you warmer. » Wriggling his way out of the lake after a great bath, a very dark brown dragon heads over towards the feeding grounds to nab himself a juicy wherry apertif...and instead finds himself a lovely, perhaps dozing green, instead. Quickly enough, Daehyeth's enchanting scent and visage push all thoughts of a snack from Cath's mind, his gaze whirling from a red-dotted blue towards something more violet and crimson. At this point in time, the slender, sneaky brown is concentrating more on his would-be lady-love than the other males. How indeed? How can a bronze keep his distance when he is being called, when reason and logic and all sense dissipate like that shower of petals around him. She called; he answers. (Cadejoth to Daehyeth) As for N'rov, he's nowhere to be seen either, at least nowhere that doesn't involve visiting his girl (currently occupied elsewhere, probably with business, putting out fires or starting them). Vhaeryth's not been one to chase at High Reaches, for all that they visit often, but tonight? Maybe it's the fog, maybe it's the moons, but that's one bet that's off. He's not there, not lurking, but something or someone makes his head turn. And he wonders, « Do you want to be kept? » Does she? Does she? Dusky blue Faisath is dark enough to stand out against the paleness of the fog, his confusion evident as he descends in search of a meal - only to find a dragon in the pens with the beasts he was hunting. The small dragon lands just outside the fence, his rider nowhere to be seen, and warbles a vibralto croon towards Daehyeth. « Do you need to be kept warm? » He weighs in on the conversation, stretching his wings out and craning his neck towards the green. There's distraction about Daehyeth's head, as if little birds have decided to circle around her headknobs in a dizzying fashion. She cants her head this way. That way. Perhaps even smiles in a draconic fashion at Visigoth's words and then Arekoth's and lazily sweeps her tail to and fro midst the fog; considering quite carefully everything about her. A burst of sunlit flowers shower into the minds of these would be suitors and the clarity of bells, peal mockingly across that mental plane. Kept? Warm? She doesn't speak. There are no words in Daehyeths bright, chaotic thoughts, and yet all her non-words fashion images and evoke sensations: Go! "Go," is Lia's single, soft-spoken word, both command and entreaty, as if she's begging her lust-lit green to release her, and then she's off. Both of them, the green to her kill, the closest one to her, and the green's rider to the guest weyr. Cadejoth is not a fighting dragon, but Arekoth? Arekoth is already getting on his nerves: he shoots past the brown, aiming to dart lower, and out of his way, sending the other dragon an abrupt, staccato clatter of warning bones: clear off, mangy cur. As Daehyeth goes for the kill, the bronze does not, though the low glide of his movements tightens abruptly - that would be readiness. Far across the Weyr, somewhere, K'del is probably groaning-- but he arrives at the Guest Weyr, damp-haired and poker-faced, all the same. Ooh! he'll get a snack, anyway! Cath readies himself to launch after Daehyeth, though once he finds the dizzied green going after something to munch on first, he too nabs a wherry of his own in a massive pounce and a spray of proto-feathers. Right back out the down-to-it brown goes, flicking back up out of the now-upset packs of animals, to his uneasy rest outside the pens, where he quickly makes a fortified, light meal of the thing's blood... then quickly hurling it at the nearest of his fellow suitors in a gesture meant to surprise and delay. As for Cath's rider? He too is stumbling along to the guest weyr, rubbing at his eyes and giving a massive yawn, B'rent's fog of near-sleep quickly banished by his lifemate's rising lust. Vhaeryth's not supposed to be here, surely, but there's that fog... who'll see, if he veers to steal one of High Reaches' beasts for that not yet midnight snack? Flowers and bells (and little glass bells, a distant other, little green Ryerith recalled so briefly before she's gone)... and fog, and blood, he's blooding, swiftly past the males who'd confront each other to take a beast with him, stunning it in a hard thud against the fence as he goes by. Blood is easy, Daehyeth's likely more difficult, and his own rider shows up with the breathless air of someone sneaking out, sneaking in, draggec by his mental collar far enough that he'll walk the rest of the way on his own. The cave isn't familiar. He looks around it with fresh eyes, though not precisely at the furnishings, unless that green's rider counts. Arekoth offers Cadejoth's bones a wintry chill, broad wings banking sharply to cut their way into the bronze's path once again. That's moulting raptor to you, chicklet. Whether he heard Lia's entreaty to her green or not, it's a sentiment he supports in full, echoed in a crackling ribbon of bright purple through that winter sky, the glow of which doesn't fade, not completely. It does dance in anticipation, though. H'kon's anticipation is more a thing he wears on a furrowed brow and set mouth as he manages his way to the guest weyr, only eventually thinking to lick remaining bits of gravy from a late meal from the corners of his mouth. Come for dinner and find a green ready to rise instead; that wasn't quite what Faisath was expecting. But he's quick to take up the challenge of the chase-to-come, leaping forward in a graceful, feline-inspired arc to land in the pens, where he snags himself a herdbeast to lustily blood. All the while his whirling eyes watch Daehyeth, studying her for the signs that she's about to make her skywards leap, his own muscles tensed and ready to give chase when the time comes. Visigoth hunts, and why not? He'll cut close by Daehyeth herself, feint a pounce at the tip of her tail while his Val flips a sixteenth to a wingmate, gathers her dress in one hand, and far too gleefully goes. She'll pass B'rent if she can, even push at his shoulder along the way, tease him about sleeping through it before she abandons him to catch up to the next. "Hallo!" And the next, until she's swinging into the weyr with one hand against stone for a pivot, pink-cheeked and nearly breathless. There's a brown on her tail; he'll get lashing if he's not too careful -- just one carefully timed little flick. But wait, there, there are those damn birds about her head again, and with the attention span of a gnat, Daehyeth perks up and looks around. It's enough time for that one kill to sink into her bones. One kill. That's all it takes to set the ichor in Daehyeth's veins pulsating and with a decidedly un-Lia-like shriek, the green lifts herself into the air. But not too far. Just high enough to sweep those suddenly wide-held wings by Cadejoth to try and graze his bulk with a wingtip and hurtles herself straight at Arekoth. Only before collision is imminent does she change gears and thrusts herself higher into the air, past her suitors, releasing an animalistic cries into the sky. The petals that dance in everyone's minds now are lit on fire, burning fast and turning into a dance of flowery flames. Lia? Lia's totally along for the ride, as she perches herself at the very edge of the cot, like a little gargoyle, watching her incoming prey. Or Shelob. Something. While people may worry about a weyrwoman's ability to contain her dragon, perhaps this green's rider never got the same lessons. "She's even pretty," Val not-quite-murmurs of Daehyeth's rider. "When does that happen, a pretty one?" . She doesn't stop there. Singsong, leaving off the wall to push off another male's rider instead, "Greenrider, greenrider, tell me a tale, of Daehyeth flying with the fog for a veil... oop!" Because Dae's just dashed and Visigoth might be lashed but he really, really wants not to be last. He launches upward, jaw agape as though he'd eat every falling flower-flame, like it's a better fuel than firestone. Faster, faster, and control's overrated. Val's not stopping herself, picking her way, one by one, towards that cot and that girl, the brownrider's eyes bright and birdlike in the glows. Birdlike, but perhaps not the fluttering kind. Were it not for Daehyeth's sudden launch for the stars, Cadejoth might, at this juncture, have resorted to shoving at Arekoth-- for a moment, it may have looked like he was about to. But the green grazes past him, and though he's quick, he's not quick enough to grab her as she does so: he has to change gear abruptly, and his turning circle is not quite small enough for that. Still, given a few seconds more, he throws his weight into the chase, letting those flowery flames inject their heat into the chains of his thoughts, turning them molten; urging on his heated blood. K'del claims himself a spot against one wall, arms wrapped around his middle, eyes, at first, on Lia alone. As the chase begins in earnest, he lifts that gaze to his competitors, narrowing it on N'rov, and narrowing it further still on H'kon, though he challenges neither. "Rotter' woke me up..." B'rent grumbles softly when Val pushes at him, the older man's intense blue eyes flicking from one woman to another, then settling upon Lia with smouldering intensity, though the other riders in the room get quick, measured stink-eyes. And then that shriek of lust is let loose outside, and it finds Cath all-too-willing to chase after she-who-gives-it, Daehyeth's burning petals and soft green hide a siren's song to the crazily beating hearts within the rangy brown's chest. « I'm-a-comin' babe! » is crowed out like the dirtiest old man at the Weyr as he hurls himself up after her...and nearly bumps shoulders with another chaser along the way. His teeth chomp at the air beside him, but find no muscle to sink into, damn it. Arekoth echoes her shriek, all the force of a bugle at its end, a brassier sound where it vibrates against his throat as he tries - tries! - to change what was intended as another foiling of Cadejoth into a grab, talons extended, neck reaching. The force of the miss is redirected just as soon as it's realised, and those wide wings have him striving upward, sharp vision on the green, beaked snout biting into the fog, and purpled aurora crackling here and there so as not to be lost in the brightness of flames. H'kon busily turns his Face to each of the newly-arrived chasers in turn, Lia getting little attention - at least, while others are still filtering in.. K'del at least will get a deeper furrow into the brownrider's brow as acknowledgement. A bluerider follows K'del's look, looks, with a hungry grin of realization. She all but cat-calls, "It's reunion time! The used-to-be Weyrleader and the refused-to-be Weyrleader and look, is that the Vijay's boy toy too? What a loser, let a brown catch the queen. All we need is Taikrin, where's Taikrin?" To B'rent, seeking to wave a hand before those blue eyes, "Are you Taikrin?" N'rov flinches, half-stopping, but Vhaeryth doesn't even slow. Not that he's so swift right now, that foreign fog, rampaging along with only the flowers (glass flowers) to light the place by. <OOC> K'del says, "N'rov, I love you." <OOC> K'del says, "Have my babies." <OOC> H'kon says, "Ditto." <OOC> H'kon says, "Except the babies part." <OOC> Alida cackles! <OOC> N'rov has K'del's babies for breakfast. Are you sure about that, H'kon? Babies for everyone! Faisath is ready when Daehyeth makes her skywards escape, though he's not quite as fast as he would like. The star-speckled canopy of his wings is snapped out and down in a powerful sweep to drive him higher, to catch him up - though perhaps, given the treatment of Arekoth and Cadejoth, he was lucky to be a ground-starter? Either way, the blue gains altitude with a sound akin to a needy feline; a sharp, high-pitched, eager keen that fades into nothing as he focuses on the petal-thoughted prize. A wet and half-dressed K'til stumbles into the ground weyr, towel in hand and scrubbing at his sodden locks. Someone's just been roused out of the baths, and... well now. Isn't this an interesting crowd? To Daehyeth, Cadejoth's muscles work, piston-like: all the better to carry him close. Closer. Again. She called him, and he came, and now-- his heart is racing, you know? <OOC> Lia says, "At least that's one thing K'del and the Vijay have in common." <OOC> Lia says, "Wanting N'rov's babies." <OOC> H'kon nearly roundhoused beer just now. <OOC> K'del dead. <OOC> Val says, "They're crazy! Who wants babies? You get stretch marks!" <OOC> K'del says, "I DID say I wanted him to have /my/ babies." <OOC> K'del says, "There's a difference." <OOC> Lia says, "Oh. Right. Reading comprehension fail." <OOC> K'del says, "Geez. XD" Never one for words, even in (and possibly moreso because) these kinds of situations, she nonetheless imparts: Can you see me? Must you see to chase? Midst the flames in her thoughts, Daehyeth's bells beckon, ringing ceaselessly in a mocking come-hither tease. Her sprightly green form is all speed and agility, dancing in a sky that is surprisingly clear, way up high. There's only that veil even higher up. Singsong thoughts and images: Do you dare? Follow me up there? These thoughts so specifically targeted at Visigoth. "She's even pretty," chirps Lia back, the gargoyle posture of her body relaxing before snapping up in a way that seems impossible for a human to do. "Fuck, Taikrin." Words, yes, they've penetrated into the flight fog of Lia's head. And something shifts high above, Daehyeth's dance faltering as uncertainty claims the green. "And who let a Vijay in here?" She might sound a little hysterical and might be flailing her limbs. Vhaeryth can't really see past them all, not yet, not like he'd like. Yet there are those flowers, glass flowers, glass-and-fire flowers like little molotov cocktails dancing in her wake, singeing like tiny brands as they impact in delayed, bursting booms of blooms. « Go. » Yes, like that, exactly like that. (Vhaeryth to Daehyeth) Those red flames are now more like alarms from the fireheights: Intruders! She doesn't know where to go, where to see. But she knows him, her sire and all. (Daehyeth to Cadejoth) The words of that bluerider set K'del's shoulders tighter, and draws his chin into the air. "Fuck Taikrin," he agrees, echoing Lia, though his words are louder than they probably need to be, given the enclosed space. "And fuck both of them, too." That would be H'kon and N'rov, the two reasons for him to draw himself off the wall, fists up, so abruptly. "Stay away from her." Above, Cadejoth thrusts himself into more heated action, the rhythm of his wingbeats hastening as he seeks out that clearer sky-- jangling his chains as a warning to those who might draw near. Stay clear. Stay clear. To Daehyeth, Cadejoth is here, and he won't let them get her. The lengths of his chain act as a guide-rope: a line to cling to, to pull her home. Trust him. He won't lead her astray. To the unknown, those lit up petals hurtle, almost like one cohesive fireball with the fleeting sensation of intruder racing in and about Vhaeryth's mind, along with find him. But... but, there's a glass flower, and shards that reflect flames and capture her fleeting little attention. Shiny. (Daehyeth to Vhaeryth) Given his own disenchantment with how things are going at the Weyr of late, B'rent grinning slightly stained tusks of teeth at the bluerider before he comments brashly, "Nah; my balls don't swing quite low enough ta' match our esteemed 'Weyrleader's.'" A rough bark of nasty laughter - partially flight-fueled - and the brownrider's livid blue gaze stabs over to both K'del and H'kon, pinning them with loud, if vocally silent accusations, before returning to Lia-on-the-cot. "Not me, sugar-dumpling..." the older man veritably coos to Lia's final inquiry, taking a step towards her. And as for Cath, the long and skinny brown finds himself calling to that sprig of earthy green he chases after, « Bellflower sagesong; sassafrass tea! » What, is he insane? That, or Cath's trying his best to imitate, and thus entice the poetic green. Cadejoth's dangling and jangling chains are subjected to a solid splash of Cath's mental sludge, which hopefully dims their brightness and dulls their sound. « Give it up, boy! You had yer chance; now step aside! » Arekoth sees all. (Just ask him.) « Terrible cold up there, » has the languid tones of lounging, for all his wings beat hard, veering here when he senses a blue coming near, there to try and foil Cadejoth again - or maybe just to try and get nearer, to taunt those chains. « Maybe you like it, » has full winter's blast behind it. H'kon's face is already prepared, thanks to K'del, for that loud bluerider. It's the first 'Fuck Taikrin' that cracks it into a sharp half-smile. It's the second that sets it back to its norm. But his shoulders draw up to see K'del's fists. Visigoth will see what he needs to, scent what he needs to, pushing thought back at Daehyeth that's just the blade's reflection of speech: Do you see me stopping? Must you see, to run? He doesn't ask if she knows where she's going, whether she knows what she's doing, and neither does he bugle or growl or keen. He stretches into the night, past the fog left behind, before the veil up above, warming his muscles with lengthening wingbeats. The green falters and he tosses tinier reflections out before her like so many birds, aiming for her delicate head. Look! More distractions. Look! Those birds would like to fly his way. His rider's delighted laughter breaks off, her bright gaze turned from the bluerider's distraction to Lia's. "We'll kick them out. We'll show them," she says, rings flashing in the air as she reaches for one slender wrist, lest Lia do herself harm. She won't stay away from her. K'til is quiet, lurking on the edges, watching the overt displays of masculinity with a wary eye. He doesn't seem keen to get in on it, and will sidle aside to keep out from the thick of the situation and away from the fists that are being threatened. In the sky above, Faisath is considerably more eager to get into the fray, taking advantage of his smaller, lighter size to jostle between two of the larger chasers; he's got agility and nimbleness on his side, and he's going to use them as he can. The green at the center of all this suddenly drops, her wings and tail thrown upward with the speed with which she's falling to the ground. Her Lia, her light isn't with her (no, she's being wrist-handled by Val) and what joy is there in flying, teasing, tormenting and just luxuriating in all the mysteries night brings with it when there isn't a like-minded partner? Falling. Just keep falling, falling, falling. Those flame-lit petals give up one last huzzah in the form of a fiery burp. Val's catch does little to stop Lia's single-minded focus, and she stretches her body away from that held wrist as far as the tether will let her go. "Get him out. He needs to leave. I want him to leave. Please make him leave." A beat, then a stricken: "Daehyeth!" N'rov'd been looking at Lia, had taken a forward step until flowers turned to flippancy turned to fists. "The fuck?" He tosses the bluerider an obscene gesture, scowls at even taller K'del. "You and what guard? Going to hit me?" There's a smirk for B'rent, and he advances a step, "That going to make you feel better?" (Though he can't help but glance at the greenrider, like she'd make him feel better, all right.) Vhaeryth, he's racing flat out for her faltering and then falling as though that burp were a fireball to immolate himself within, not just falling but following, focused where his rider's fragmented with sudden shock at the greenrider's reaction, falling and reaching with that long flame-in-glass neck to try and catch and twist and fling them both up again. N'rov's shocked. Vhaeryth's not. Vhaeryth knows what he wants. « Get back, » cries Cadejoth, suddenly verbal again both because of the dragons in his way (stupid Arekoth) and those attempting to taunt him. When Daehyeth so abruptly begins to fall, he shoves the entirety of his body-weight to get there... and if there's anyone in the way, well, sucks to be them. He's diving for her, even as his rider is yelling, "Get out." It's probably supposed to be for N'rov, the Vijay-fucker, but can a person really blame him for staring at H'kon as he says it? At least he doesn't attempt to do anything about this bodily - just points, hand shaking, at the exit. Out. Leave poor K'd-- Lia alone! Be scared, N'rov. And H'kon. He'll shake his fist at you. Vhaeryth flies into that fireball even as it falls, and at her reaction, flings another such flower: shiny. She's got the shimmy, he's got the shiny, she's got the shining. All those days where he's had to sit, to wait, while his rider does what he wants... now she's here and she's light in dark and Vhaeryth wants something, someone, her. Here. There's still light. (Vhaeryth to Daehyeth) "Oh SHARD IT ALL!" B'rent bellows out as his dragon doesn't catch the glowy green one, the older man glowering at K'del, and then the mouthy N'rov as if it's all their fault...the brownrider's large fists clenched in a pantomime of angry frustration. Before he gives in to the urge to beat on the pair of bronzers, the big bastard's hurling himself out of the weyr and jogging for the lake, where the crashed-into Cath will soon plunge his unslaked self into for scant comfort. Goddamned kids, git offa my lawn! Arekoth's climb stops, forgotten, leaving the brown floating an instant, as upward drive wears off, as gravity begins to take hold. Those wings sweep back, tips extending straight behind him. Limbs reach forward, and he's diving, not falling, those radiating aurora aligning all into streaks following his trajectory. Daehyeth is the goal, but if Cadejoth should get in the way of those reaching talons... well, second prize is still a prize. The apple of H'kon's neck bobs up, and holds, while his jaw goes tense. He wants to look at Lia now, oh yes. But K'del keeps him cautious, keeps his attentions divided. Keeps him frowning. Faisath creels as Daehyeth falls, a powerful downthrust of his wings propelling him forward in his attempt to capture and save the green from her fall. His paws extend, ready to grasp, his wings flare out in preparation for bracing against the pull of gravity, his neck stretched in keenness to twine with hers, should he make it to her. K'til is all wide-eyed for the action he's on the edges of, backing up with K'del's shouting, even if it's not intended for him; the bluerider cleaves to the wall, ready to make a quick exit when it's all over - if it's all over for him, that is. "Go!" cries Val in response, her own palm thrust out like a fine ringed shield, her Lia-linked hand held back to try and keep the greenrider in safety and, it's got to be said, against her. "She doesn't want you." There aren't specifics, she doesn't seem to care who the bronzeriders fuck, ohow much they outmass her, only that Lia doesn't want them and she wants her. Visigoth swerves past falling Cath and skids up at a spine-straining angle like he'd meet Daehyeth halfway and then some. Her light may have guttered but the stars are out, they're lights too, and he's physical and warm and wanting with those broad wings and that very beginning tease. He'd keep her. Warm and otherwise. Torment him, do. Does Visigoth need to see? Or does he know. (Visigoth to Daehyeth) Confused now, Lia stops straining against Val's grip on her wrist and whirls around to snake her arms around the brownrider's neck, her lips desperately seeking and her hands awkwardly groping. Confused why? Up, up, not so high now with Daehyeth's drop, her once upward flying wingtips and tail tip are now spread flat, caught by a calculating racer, faller, and follower. You! is shared broadly, triumphantly, and pleased: Vhaeryth's image cast in a shower of fragmented glass petals. It's in thought that the first claim of success comes. The green's scattered brain trying to regroup into its sensical chaos as she chases after this shiny and that shiny and that shiny and -- lookeethere. Here. A beat. Me. (Daehyeth to Vhaeryth) K'del's whole body shudders when Cadejoth's attempt to catch goes wide: for a moment, he's utterly breathless, wobbling on his feet. A moment later, however, he's got his body worked out again-- enough that he can walk right up to N'rov and thrust his fist right at the Fortian bronzerider's face. He needed that black eye. A moment later, whatever the reaction, he'll be gone. And K'til slips out quietly as Faisath wings his way down to the ground, defeated. There's no need to risk getting his pretty face damaged by rampaging riders! The tension that's been building in H'kon releases in an almost fluid step sideways as K'del moves forward - but when it's not him the bronzerider is going for, that brownrider turns and walks as quick as his little legs will get him. There will be over-the-shoulder looks thereafter, and possibly lurking in the shadows until K'del has left. But at least it'll be outside. And Arekoth? Arekoth pulls up from the dive and goes higher. Arekoth's goin' for a fly. Seeking and finding because, yes, Val gladly leaves off fending off the men to kiss Lia back, breathless and anticipating like it's now... until Visigoth's roar shakes through her and she all but turns green. Even so, it takes another rider's yanking full-bore on her shoulder to pull her bodily away, as she spits at him, "You'd have done it too!" before storming out. She doesn't look back. Lia? Good luck. There. A beat. You! near-simultaneous with hers, Vhaeryth swinging up with her and twining with her and he's so, so thrilled, she's the best broken glass he's ever rolled around in yet. (And beating all those other natives? Bonus!) (Vhaeryth to Daehyeth) Vhaeryth may not be feeling that black eye, but N'rov sure is, staggering off-center and catching himself on someone who's leaving, someone who shrills at him to grope the girl, not him, dumbass, and what's hurting more is that he doesn't have her, not yet, not the way Vhaeryth has Daehyeth. So he sets about making that happen. When her claim is yanked from her, Lia protests, reeling backwards as Val is taken away and as everyone slowly leaves (she's even missed Daehyeth's catch's rider getting a black eye from the once-Weyrleader), there's one man left. Unfamiliar, unknown and yet. Her, "You," is far from the welcoming one her green gave his bronze, but that's all she can get out for now as that bond between dragon and rider becomes more firm again. "You," when repeated, is a desirous demand that finds the two of them happening. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 03 Apr 2013 06:10:16 GMT.
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I was in stitches. You're all terrible and I love you for it. <3
K'zin (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 03 Apr 2013 08:23:18 GMT.
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Ditto! That was AWESOME!!
Aishani (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 03 Apr 2013 17:25:28 GMT.
< The dragon has a name, you know!
Awesome. I don't know whether to shake my fist at Lia or point and laugh.
Taikrin (Taikrin (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 08 Apr 2013 06:41:13 GMT.
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Man, you're supposed to be chasing Lia and yet all you guys want to do is fuck Taikrin!
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