-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lysseth's Thirteenth Flight Date: April 7, 1999 Places: Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl, Feeding Grounds, Skyspace, and Guest Weyr Game: PernMUSH Copyright Info: The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kassi's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this flight, truth be told. The turnout was quite respectable, and all the chasers did marvelously-- there's no denying that. :) However, I think my own posing may have been sub-par, and I always regret that. I still had a good time, though, and that's mostly thanks to those who chased, made cereal references, stuck the Gilligan's Island theme song in my head, and/or various other nefarious acts. ;) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Log: You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles, cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully. On Nyth, Keriann slides down Nyth's shoulder, clutching a small bundle underneath one arm. Keriann hops down Nyth's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Kassima slides down from her lifemate's neck, treating the green to a scowl. "Fine. Sulk all you *want*, beast. You *could* go to the Stones if'n 'twere really bothered, but naaaay--" Lysseth snorts sharply in response, glaring back at her rider. "Fine, fine. Just keep your sulking out of *my* head. Yeesh. Dragons. You're just asking t'be made into a cloak, you realize." Trila comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern. Trila comes out of the living caverns, making a beeline for Ansuth. Kassi's spotted, and the girl smiles involuntarily, though it ends up more on Keriann than on Kassima. Gotta stay away from those scary proddytypes. "H'lo," she says, then, more to everyone than to anyone in particular. Nyth's head swings in Lysseth's direction, and Keriann, intent upon securely retucking her bundle underneath her arm so she won't drop it, takes a moment before she realizes anyone else is around. Trila receives a nod, and an absent, "Good evening," before Keri gets her goods secured and actually -looks- around. Ansuth's head, though it swings to gaze at Lysseth, too, is a bit more removed, cautious. Poor guy. "How d'you do?" Trila wonders, allowing her lips to curl up into a wide smile. Kassima's lips curl, too, but not in a smile. "I'd do *better* if'n certain green dragons would shut the shards up," she replies, succinctly enough. Lysseth merely echoes Kassi's snarl; a social beast? She? Not when glowing. Not at all. Rider and dragon trade glares again before the former adds, "And with a bowl of meat onhand. Forgot dinner in screaming at Kena." Keriann's looking around stops when her gaze lands upon Kassima. A hopefully discreet glance all the way up and down Kassima causes Keriann's eyes to widen slightly at something, though the brownrider's lips just -barely- twitch before Keriann glances to Trila. "We're well," Keriann replies, faint amusement colouring her voice as she tilts her head just slightly toward Kassima, as if asking Trila 'did you see her'? "How are you and Ansuth?" As it would seem, Trila did. "We're very well," she offers to'ards the brownrider, permitting a grin to cross her face before wincing and blinking at Kassima. "There's wonderful stew in there." "I don't do *stew*," Kassi replies, with considerable disgust. "They *cook* it. Cooked food makes me retch. All *her* fault." Lysseth has stopped heeding her rider at all at this point, insteaad curling into a sullen ball of glowing dragon-hide. "Bloody freaks. Eating *cooked* food. With *tubers* in it. Tubers taste like runnerbeast offal, you realize." Aurian walks down the pitted ramp from her weyr. Keriann's lip twitching smoothes out as Keriann returns Trila's grin, before the brownrider nods and glances toward Kassima again. "That's good," she offers in somewhat distracted reply to the young bluerider. "Or perhaps there's some cheese," she suggests toward Kassima. "Cheese isn't cooked." Not that she really knows, but hey, it doesn't -sound- cooked. "The special's red-skinned /tubers/, Kassima," Trila says, lips curling up into an irritated grimace. "There's no tubers in the stew. Or at least there didn't seem t'be in mine." Telgar Weyr> Trila is insane. Aurian moves down her ramp lightly, she hums a song which in another time is the Old-Spice song, but now is meerly some seacrafter song. "Heyas, Aurian," Trila calls, lifting a hand to wave as she leans with a plop against her dragon's foreleg. Kassima watches Keriann's twitching lips and grinningness with the distinctly sour expression of someone who just can't stand to watch other people being happy. "Cheese doesn't *bleed*, either. I like m'food to bleed. Blood, mmmm." This message has been brought to you by the Blood Council. "Then whoever made the special should be kicked across the river, subjected t'three solid days of Ushu, and served fried with rose-petal sauce! Nay anyone who's sane enough t'be letting live serves *tubers*. Nay anyone. Aurian, unless you want me t'tie a rope t'your ankle and whirl you about like a lasso for awhile before hurling you at the Bowl wall, I suggest you desist." "Desist what, Kassima?" Aurian blinks in confusion. It couldn't be the song. I mean sure she's always been out of key but she likes the song. Everybody likes the song. "Humming. No more humming," Trila says, as though she's the translator. "And Kassi, I'm sure someone can find you something raw. With lots of blood, too." Sugary-sweet words roll off the tip of her tongue cheerfully, and then she beams. Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "My character is asking to die." M'rgan wanders up from the other side of the bowl, his eyes on the sky. The man is humming to himself and it's a jaunty little tune, reflective of his current mood. Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth taps the OOC mic. << Good evening, all. I'd just like to note that blooding for my latest flight will start at Telgar Weyr in... oh, fifteen minutes or so. Interested folk should please join the flight channel, too. Thanks! >> Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith is so /there/ that it's like he's had to time travel. Keriann closes her eyes and shudders slightly as Kassima says she likes her food to bleed. Unfortunately, Keriann believes the greenrider completely. Though she isn't going to ask just how Kassima knows what runnerbeast offal tastes like. "You could always go fishing at the lake, and catch something raw," Keriann decides. "Fish," Keriann shudders, "bleed." More importantly, the lake is across the bowl, and that would mean Kassima would have to -go- there. "Humming," Kassi snaps in agreement. "Trila, patronize me and die, and Mart... you just die, all right? I owe you some serious death." Death: the perfect gift for all ages! This message has been brought to you by the Death Council. "I've *gone* fishing," she replies to Keriann, sounding rather petulant. "*Already*. And I threw fish heads off the Stones, too. But fish don't bleed *enough*, and Tria won't let me kill the wherries or herdbeasts anymore." Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth now has 'Time Warp' stuck in her head. Thanks, Ularrith. ;) Trila lets out a snort that sounds rather oddly like that of a runner, and moves around to rest her head against the side of Ansuth's shoulder. Mutter, mutter, mutter. Trila mutters to herself, "... proddy... stupid..." Telgar Weyr> Trila snickers, that was a great mutter. "What was that?" Kassi demands in a voice that's entirely too cold and quiet for comfort. "Fish are rather icky anyway," Keriann agrees, completely sincerely, though she shudders once again, her shoulders curling forward as Kassima said she threw fish heads off the Stones. Trila's muttering draws a deep sigh from Keriann, as the brownrider shakes her head and takes a step to the side. Leaving a clear path to Trila is smart, apparently. Trila lifts her eyes and stares right back at Kassima, eyebrows dipped into a rather unusual glare. "I /said/..." she begins, and then sighs, gustily, turning back to'ards Ansuth. "Never /mind/." M'rgan is momentarily taken aback by Kassima's threat and his humming abruptly ceases. But nothing, not even Kassima's knives, is likely to spoil the Kena-caused mood he's in so a second later he's humming happily again, a sickly-sweet, sugary smile on his face. Aurian mutters under her breath. She then starts to whistle that little ditty. Kassima watches Trila with something that's not quite hatred, but isn't friendliness either. "Dawn sweeps," she eventually snaps out, "and latrine duty. Three sevendays of each." And with that settled, she has a chance to do something about M'rgan's mood. That something would be, namely, stooping to claw up a glob of mud from the ground and summarily throwing it at him. Of course, how good her aim is after several nights without sleep and the distraction of proddiness is questionable. Making a noise that's indescribable other than "Rrrrrrgh"ing, Trila pushes off from her blue, mutters some sort of goodbye, and stomps back into the living caverns. Trila walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern. Aurian glances to Kassima, "Don't you think you were more than a tad harsh." "Insubordination to one's Wingleader is inexcusable, particularly in so new a rider," replies Kassima, scowling. "Proddy or nay proddy, you do *nay* call your Wingleaders stupid or act the wherry's rear end." As she says this, she scrubs at her muddy hand with a black kerchief. After all, who knows what sorts of things might've been *in* that mud? Ewww. Aurian starts bloodywell humming. She's highly irritated at Kassima and isn't about to back down. Now aplomb isn't really one of M'rgan's more famous expressions yet he manages to maintain it as dots of mud splat into his cheek and a larger dollop splooshes against his shoulder. As he wipes at the mud on his face, he smiles that sugary smile in Kassima's direction. "I'm sorry that you can't have me, Kassi, but that's just the way things are." While he doesn't quite have that huge of an ego, he knows it can be fun, though dangerous, to poke the proddy greenrider. Telgar Weyr> Trila oos. I'm a wherrybutt, so it would seem. ;) Woo! Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Lysseth with << I feel I should apologize for my rider. >> A pause. Ansuth knows the response will be poor, but he feels the need to say it, presence light and fleeting. << She does not understand, I think. >> That calls for another fistload of mud launched at Aurian, mess or no mess, along with a second missile launched at Mart. "I never *wanted* you!" Kassi screeches. "Your weyrmate is just *insane*! Shardit, shardit, shardit, shardit! Get that through your heads, Weyr! Arrrrgh! Next person who suggests such a thing, I swear, I'll sock 'em!" Telgar Weyr> Kassima giggles. Mart, you're just plain evil. :) And you, too, Auri. I'm surrounded by evil maleriders! Telgar Weyr> Trila snickers. Telgar Weyr> Trila isn't there, nya nya ah-ha ha. Lysseth> Ansuth senses that Lysseth seethes, only seethes, her mind a vat of festering acid. Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble. A drum, a drum, a flight doth come! << It does not concern me. >> Aurian raises an arm deflecting the mud off herself easily. She keeps humming. She's had it up to here with this insanity that seems to be covering the green riders of Telgar. Well at least the ones who haven't had their flights already. Dragon> Lysseth senses that Ansuth accepts that. Ice would quench the fire, it seems. << Then I shall not burden you with it. >> Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets out her helpful little clipboard. << Mouseketeer Roll-Call. Whom do I get to torture tonight? ;) >> Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << Can we lurk and watch the master (mistress) in action? >> Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Doodah >> Dragon> Chiloth bespoke Flight with << I don't suppose you'd be interested in flying antiques? >> M'rgan is high on life and not anything else at the moment so he easily dances to one side and, for the most part, avoids the mud missile though a few more specks fleck his clothes and face. "I'd say that my weyrmate is the most brilliant person in the world. She picked me after all." Smirk. Smirk. Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith raises a foreleg. << Yo. I'm in for the torture. >> Chiloth backwings for a landing. Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << But of course! And for fellow greens, I'll even waive the two-mark spectator's fee. ;) But of course, Chiloth! So long as you're not one of those lion-footed bathtubs or something, 'cause I just can't stand those. >> T'garrick jumps easily down from Chiloth's ceder brown back. Ansuth merely lowers his head, setting it 'pon misty forelegs with a rumble. Chiloth bugles and rumbles as his rider slowly climbs down, away from the mud. He looks at the scene and simply shakes his head. Kvasith lumbers down the ramp from weyr. Kassima points a mud-coated finger at Mart, growling, "Of all the *ridiculous* things I've ever heard in m'life, that has t'be foremost--I'd always thought that Kena was intelligent in *spite* of that, but I may have t'be rectifying my opinion. And *you*! Aurian, *shut the shards up*!" Kvasith stretches his wings as he comes out. Yes he's posing blatantly. "LaLALALA you can't make me!" Aurian starts humming more and louder. It would seem Aurian's a risktaker. Ansuth rumbles, akin to laughter, though his eyes whirl a mixture of blue and purple as he gazes. Perhaps a reflection of lifemate's violent outbursts? T'garrick shakes his head. "Kids these days," he says softly to himself. "First kilts, then this? When did discipline drop off the wing drill schedule?" Kassima lets loose an incoherent shriek of rage and dives for Aurian, attempting to give the brownrider the noogying of her life in punishment. "Die! Die! Die!" she yells. How Kassi expects Aurian to die from *noogying*, Faranth only knows, but it can likely be safely credited to temporary insanity. Telgar Weyr> Trila dies laughing. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth laughs at her poor, deranged rider. Okay, now would probably be a good time to start the blooding, before anybody can kill anybody else. ;) "Owwowww owww..M'rgan get her off meeeeeeee" Aurian wails and brightly enough manages to start humming some more. Kvasith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him aloft. Above, Kvasith flies towards the north end of the bowl. M'rgan wisely steps back as Kassima goes for Aurian, laughter rocking his body. "No way, Aurian. You're on your own." Above, Ularrith leaps from Ularrith's Ledge and flies into the air. Trila comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern. Above, Ularrith flies towards the north end of the bowl. Telgar-Bowl> Above, Ularrith flies downward towards the feeding grounds. Chiloth seems to almost bounce with anticipation before some other filmy thing takes his interest. He takes flight and glides to the north end of the bowl. Chiloth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him aloft. Trila emerges from the caverns, apparently intending to mount her blue and go back to her weyr. However, the sight she sees draws a giggle from her, in spite of anything. Blink. "Erm..." Aurian pinches Kassima repeatedly. She keeps humming as she starts this pinching fun. Above, Chiloth flies towards the north end of the bowl. Telgar-Bowl> Above, Chiloth flies downward towards the feeding grounds. "And you die, too!" Kassi yells at Mart, abandoning her Aurian noogie-fest to try and deliver the same to the other brownrider. So caught up is she that she doesn't note the males' departure, though she does spare a moment to aim a wicked kick at Aurian for the pinching. Ansuth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him aloft. Above, Ansuth flies towards the north end of the bowl. Nyth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him aloft. Above, Nyth flies towards the north end of the bowl. Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Kvasith snarls with his hunger, that his rider is certainly not feeling just yet. He snatches a wherry from a panicking flock, the feathers fly as blood soon stains his muzzle. Telgar-Bowl> Above, Nyth flies downward towards the feeding grounds. Telgar-Bowl> Above, Ansuth flies downward towards the feeding grounds. Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Chiloth settles on a wherry like the giant flying carnivore he is, making little vocalization sounds all the time, rumbles and eager grunts as tears open the flesh of his prey. Aurian grunts a touch as she suddenly feels a kick, "Dammit not the right side Kassima.. I've already broken those ribs.. I don't need to break them again.." Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth goes over the rules real quick. :) Pretty standard: one pose to every Lyss pose, no rider pose limit, no size limit, GW IC (and there'll be a green 'Ling's FL in there observing :), channel OOC, heckle and joke all you want, and most of all, have fun. I'll join y'all at the grounds in a minute or so. All clear? :) Keriann's closed eyes and shaking head block out much of the display, but when Keriann opens an eye again to see Kassima going after first Aurian and then M'rgan, she makes a muffled, choking sound. Her head turns away again, to try to keep anyone else from knowing she's trying not to laugh. Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Ansuth beelines from the sky, talons extending even as he drops, picking off a large buck and tearing it's neck open with an abrupt, vicious rumble. With talons clamping the screaming beast firmly, the blue closes his mouth ferally 'round the buck's neck and blooding fiercely. Telgar Weyr> A'ser squeals in delight. "Yay! Why are we all so happy?!" Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "Lysseth is going up at last" Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "Oh and Kassima broke my ribs" "She's noogying?" Trila asks, an eyebrow lifted in what now seems pure amusement, question more to'ards Keriann or M'rgan than anything else. "Where in Faranth's name's that lump of dragon, anyway?" Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith's immense wings fan the sky as he circles the feeding ground in ever decreasing spirals, stirring up the beasts lolling below. As the stampede starts up, he drops from the heavens, the ovine he selected tumbling from the herd as he backhands it. Telgar Weyr> T'garrick says, "So there is an upside to this. :)" Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "Woo! ;)" Telgar-Bowl> In the Feeding Grounds, Nyth wings down silently, dropping just low enough to snatch a bleating bovine from the feeding pens. Nyth carries the beast to an empty spot outside pens, where he lands and opens the bovine's neck. Nyth's talon resheathes, as the tip of his muzzle fastens over the open gash to suck the beast dry. Telgar Weyr> Trila blinks. Guys, I've forgotten about grammar. Lysseth watches this entire spectacle with open disdain, then streeeeetches out on the Bowl floor in what can only be defined as a sensual manner. Charcoal-edged wings are spread out to full extension; mist-shrouded tail lashes once, twice, in lazy anticipation before the green finally springs into the air to follow after the (dearly?) departed males. Lysseth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her aloft. Telgar Weyr> A'ser mutters, "It's about time Kassima got something right..." Lysseth> You fly towards the north end of the bowl. Telgar Weyr> Kassima gives A'ser the noogying of his life in vengeance. :P Telgar Weyr> Dossa blinks. Violent proddyness. Aieee! Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "Don't mutter. I muttered and got three weeks of dawn sweeps and latrine cleaning. :P" Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds. M'rgan's laughter is broken off as he watches Ularrith fly towards the feeding grounds and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand in relief. "About time." T'garrick gives a soft sigh and clasps his hands behind his back to watch Chiloth silently. Handy thing about that beard of his...it's hard to tell what he's feeling when his face is covered that way. "I suppose it is an improvement from the knives," he mutters. Keriann's shoulders shake just a little, before she manages to get a strong enough grip on herself to answer Trila in a reasonably laughter- free voice. "So it seems," Keriann tells Trila with a nod, moving just enough to stay free of Kassima and her targets. Lysseth> Lysseth rockets over the ground with a distinct vrooooom, skimming what seems dangerously low over the Grounds' beasts--bovine, caprine, and draconic alike. A taunt is vocalized in her mocking bugle, echoed swiftly by the sickening *crunch* of bone as the female comes to a complete and final halt on the back of a bull bovine. His bulling days are decidedly over. Now his only use is as refreshment for dragons, specifically *this* dragon, *the* dragon: Lysseth. A quick hooking motion of her claws tears the throat asunder, and the warrm blood sends tendrils of steam into the frost-bitten air. Lysseth> The green's presence stirs up a shudder of excitement, at least from Ansuth, who bugles in alluring greeting, tossing the 'shell' of the buck to the side, tail and hips switching in seductive movements. Then, with a sweep of wings, he seems to writhe, lifting effortlessly up and dropping down once more in vehement hunger. Another, this time a doe, wild-eyed with fear, is plucked off with silv'ry talons, thrown down with such force that the cracking of her neck is audible. Carnality abounds, the blue pouncing once more and lashing his neck forward, draining the herdbeast of ichor. Lysseth> The salty, steamy smell of fresh blood rises up from around Ularrith as the little he wasn't able to drink puddles on the ground. The brown dragon roars angrily as he's abruptly torn away from the ovine by a bungling bronze, who in his chase of a bovine knocks into Ularrith's hindquarters. Both dragons snap at each other for a few seconds, teeth flashing like shooting stars, until Lysseth's presence causes their libidos to override their frustrations. Lysseth> Chiloth bugles a greeting, and with the vigor of a dragonet with a hyperactive streak, he bounds off his desanguinated wherry and instead brings down a smaller cow from the herdbeast herd. Latching onto the beasts femoral artery, well, bottoms up. Lysseth> Kvasith rakes his nails across the ground. He tosses back th dried out wherry, before hopping up into the air again to pounce on a herdbeast. He snorts as the tail of the beast tickles his nose, that doesn't last long however as the tail ends up in his throat as he starts to suck from the haunch of the animal. Kassima abandons the Noogiefest at Lysseth's ascendance, gaping after the green. "Shard*it*!" she wails. "You've done it again! *Why* d'you do this *every time* I'm about t'be getting t'bloody well kill somebody? Why? Why, why, why?" She stomps her foot and tosses her hair back, actually *pouting*, then heaves a resigned sigh and gets down to business. "Blood, blood blood, bloodbloodblood," she chants, the greenrider's mantra. Lysseth> Nyth leaves the dessicated carcass of the bovine behind in a place where those lucky people who clean up after flights will be sure to see it. A hop and two wingbeats carry him high above the feeding pens, where he circles, well out of Lysseth's way until she's identified her chosen beast. Once she's landed, Nyth drops down low enough to snatch a fat caprine, one who's so round it can barely try to totter away from its life's end. Nyth flies to one of the low ledges overlooking the feeding pens, carrying the beast in his claws, where he holds it still until he silences its terrified calls with gleaming black claws. Trila blinks with confusion, turning her head and gazing in the direction of the feeding grounds. The girl pales, lower lip parting from upper lip, eyes widening. "Oh, Ansuth," she breathes, hands lifting, fingers brushing over her lips. Kassi's given a sidelong gaze, and lip is bitten in a mixture of nervousness, excitement, and anticipation of the event to come. Dragon> Flight sense that Chiloth considers. << I wonder if it would be possible to use the word exsanguination and its derivatives thereof for every pose in a flight. >> Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth considers that. << What /I/ wonder is if it's possible to /rhyme/ for every pose in a flight. :P >> Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << Hey. What's exsanguination mean? >> Dragon> Chiloth bespoke Flight with << Drained of blood. Sanguine= blood. >> Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << I think I hate that word. :P >> Dragon> Chiloth bespoke Flight with << Very tasty. Word of the day sponsored by hallmark. >> "Oh, -there's- something new," Keriann says to herself when Kassima starts to chant 'blood' over and over again. Keriann eyes the greenrider, though that fluffy bib thing makes her shake her head again. Lysseth> Lysseth drains her kill to dryness with the sort of slurping noises her mother told her a lady never makes. Lysseth never heeded that, though... primarily because *she* is no lady. Blood drips from her tapering muzzle as she lifts her dusky head, carmine eyes blazing in fury as she regards *them*. The would-be competition. Now, *there's* a laugh for you. Her claws snap out again, ka-click!, like switchblades, this time slashing across the throat of a stampeding cow who showed the stupidity characteristic in a cull by running right *for* the dragon. But her loss is Lysseth's gain, and the green picks up the carcass, snapping off its head and guzzling from the jugular as though it were a giant can of Coke. Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Note to self: I must remember to lay off the pre-flight soda. >> Dragon> Flight sense that Jilth heh. Kassima is entirerly ignoring her fluffy bib or anything else besides the flash of green in the far-off Grounds, for that matter. "Well, what d'you *want* me t'chant?" she snaps back at Keriann in a mildly lucid moment. "Intestines? Feces?" Lysseth> The brown drinks deeply of the cup that is the herdbeast. Kvasith slakes his fill of herdbeast and snatches an ovine. He clutches the white fluffy ovine tightly. He snuffles it for a moment then pinches his teeth into the small thing, sucking the blood and whatever other tasty fluids he can get from the ovine. Mmmmmm marrow. "You wanted -blood-," Keriann replies, calmly enough for now. "You have it. Both of you." Her gaze flicks out across the bowl, where she knows well what is going on, though she can't really see any details with the dark and distance. Lysseth> The sight of the bewitching though bad-tempered verdant creature draws Ularrith's cagey gaze and he dips his head to her respectfully as his eyes whirl hotly with ardor. As that clumsy bronze moves off to find another beast to satisfy his cravings, the oak-brown dragon rears back on his broad haunches, wings spread wide and high, and poses proudly, arrogantly, for Lysseth. Lysseth> How attractive, how alluring, how beautiful and seductive and -- oh, forget it. Ansuth, however enthralled he is with Lysseth's furious motions, still lifts, this time gliding in hawk-like circles, bellowing in triumph as he finds a wherry and dive-bombs it -- nyeeeeeeeow, boom. Eyes whirl a crimson of passion over the crimson that's stained muzzle, tongue extending to lap up blood 'n' gore before the wherry's attended to. Tail thwacks the wherry firmly in the side of the head, sending it unconcious, at which point the blue takes the entire neck in his mouth and shakes it until it's neck breaks, too. And then he bends his head low, and with a vicious rumble, draws in the blood. Lysseth> Chiloth lays open some other poor, hapless, rather wooly from the amount of white fuzz between his teeth, sort of creature in a non- impressive, but functional sort of way. He feeds and then crouches over the carcass, his long tongue poking at the wool and blood on his muzzle. Aurian feels her ribcage idly, lifting up her shirt willy nilly, hmmm. "Whew just bruised." She drops her shirt into place and goes back to watching the blooding and ohhhh that suddenly sexy Kassima. Lysseth> Nyth drains the caprine of every drop of blood before lifting his crimson stained maw from its corpse. He cleans the warm, sticky stains from his muzzle with his tongue as he surveys the feeding pens. With a negligent shove of the brown's foreleg, the caprine's body is knocked off the ledge to bounce its way down the bowl's side to the bowl's floor below. Trila licks her lips in a light, normally unimportant motion -- but now it's caused by something, some passion not entirely hers. Fingers are pressed together, bent so that hands clasp eachother, and eyes are now fixed on... Kassima. T'garrick's mirror eyes are hooded and dark, but he looks straight ahead stoicly. Duty. Lysseth> As Lysseth exsanguinates her second corpse, her glow begins to magnify proportionally... and her eyes take on, amidst the scarlet, hints of amethystine purple. Her tongue snakes out to wash fastidiously at muzzle and claws, not about to let a drop of nature's finest sauce escape her--not from this beast, nor the next, an aged ovine who's survived many flights only to be slit from head to hooves by the talons of the green. She's a baaaaad girl, is Lysseth, and about to be on the lamb, attempting to pull the wool over the eyes of her pursuers in shear desperation. Will she feel sheepish when the flight's over? There's only one way to find out, and it's time to get to it. In a flurry of wingsails, she's aloft-- away, away! Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor to carry you aloft -- much to the relief of the wherries. Lysseth> You soar upwards and into the open sky above the Weyr. Lysseth> Kvasith flies up from the southern half of the bowl. Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Whew... high flight >> "About bloody *time*," Kassima mutters, pushing hair back out of her face and turning to stalk towards the Guest Weyr. "Let's get this over with." You push aside the curtain and enter the weyr. Lysseth> Ularrith flies up from the southern half of the bowl. Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << I'm fond of heights, what can I say? ;) >> Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << Get higher baby, get higher girl >> Aurian comes into the weyr from the bowl. Lysseth> Nyth flies up from the southern half of the bowl. M'rgan comes into the weyr from the bowl. Keriann comes into the weyr from the bowl. Lysseth> From the North, Chiloth springs into the air on cedar brown wings. Despite his bulk and mighty wingspan, and the silver that shows in his hide and on his muzzle, he darts up with enormous enthusiasm and passion, corkscrewing after the flashing green. Lysseth> Chiloth flies up from the southern half of the bowl. Lysseth> Ansuth flies up from the southern half of the bowl. T'garrick comes into the weyr from the bowl. Aurian sits there and sticks her tounge out at Kassima.... hmmmmmm. Oh wait. She pulls her tounge back in her mouth and flutters her eyelashes at Kassima Trila comes into the weyr from the bowl. T'garrick walks up the steps slowly. He stands near a wall and watches Kassima and the others with unwavering eyes. It really is unpleasant...the guy has to blink some time. Lysseth> Lysseth immediately seeks the celestial high road, pulling herself through the murky clouds to seek the stairway to heaven. Starfire, elusive and thin, greets her at these heights; crisp air does also, and the winds she needs to advance herself through the night. Zzzzzoom! She's one of Telgar's fastest, no matter what Kvasith says, and puts that ability to excellent use in gaining her starting lead. Catch her if you can! Keriann comes into the guest weyr, scuffing her boots across the floor with each step. Though there's not much mud on them, at least from the lack of mud being left on the stone floor, Keriann does that half-way across the guest weyr, where she begins to walk normally, to take up a position against a wall, midway in between two glowbaskets. Kassima ignores stares, tongues, scuffing boots, and *especially* fluttering eyelashes; all she's interested in is the cool, comforting wall, which she leans against as though it were an old friend. Which, of course, it is. Folding her arms, she tilts her chin belligerently and gives each person a hostile glare before closing her eyes entirely to concentrate on Lysseth. Hands in his jacket pockets, M'rgan trots up the stairs and into the weyr, his normally gently blue eyes looking somewhat frenzied every time they fall on Kassima. He stops near the center of the room, by a half-open glowbasket which illuminates his legs and torso but doesn't quite reach his face, which remains partially hidden in the shadows. Lysseth> Kvasith would facepalm himself if he could. She remembered that Shards! The brown stretches out his wings and catches a thermal quickly riding the wind high as he starts his pursuit of the brilliant green hide. His body whipping through the night air after her. Lysseth> With wings spread to catch the same air Lysseth seeks, moving in heated thermals, in little eddying breezes, Ansuth walks on air, tail lashing uneccesarily behind him. The blue bends, only slightly, to make use of air currents to lift ever-higher. He is not so much powerful as clever, knowing where to waste energy and where to conserve -- now is the time to move, to rise, to gain closeness and speed to'ards the verdant star above, just as bright and dazzling as any comet, any meteor, any shooting star. Lysseth> Nyth will never match Lysseth's speed, but he's been chasing green tails long enough to know that he'll have to gain altitude to have the best chance of gaining that which he's lusting after. Lysseth's tail, to be precise. Steady wingbeats and judicious use of natural currents of rising air carry Nyth through the rising height Lysseth seeks, the brown staying off to the side of most of the other males as he flies through the darkness of the heavens. Trila slips up the steps, peeling off her jacket in deference to heat that should be so un-natural for such a cool night. Hands ball the wherhide thing up, tossing it aside in a mixture of irritability and sensual anticipation, fingers flexing as they lift to lightly wipe o'er her eyes, which are now closed. Lysseth> Ularrith's maw still gapes open a bit as he energeticly chases after Lysseth's enchanting form. This is no torpid brown tonight, reclining in the bowl. This is a lean, mean, stalking machine. As he soars swiftly upwards, the wind whistles through his teeth, sounding much like someone humming a jaunty, little tune. Keriann doesn't shudder at Kassima's glare this time, she does nothing more than rest her eyes upon the greenrider. Half-hooded eyes, that skim over Kassima, to try to gain a clue as to where her lifemate will go. Lysseth> Chiloth glides through the air, and wings used to struggling in Benden's heavy breezes have no problem cutting through here. Even so, he is hard pressed to keep up with the darting flexibility of the green, condemned to hanging out with the other browns following Lysseth. Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << Doh. The only blue. >> Dragon> Flight sense that Jilth ? What am I missing? :) Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << The preflight mayhem >> Lysseth> Were Lysseth a star, she'd be going supernova, blazing across the sky in a burst of light and fire--leaving only sky-dust, cloud contrails, and hints of luminescence in her looping wake. For loop she does, flirting with the wind where she won't deign to flirt with dragon males; it is an aerial tango, undertaken for the sheer joy of flight. And if it happened to further her plans of escape... well, that would be nice too. Twisting to the side *just* in time to avoid a rather startled flock of wherries, she cuts across the darkness, replacing it with light for the duration of one wing-clap. She's rather like the Clapper that way. Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << Ahhh :) >> Dragon> Flight sense that Jilth cheers for the blue :) Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth beams. Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << Go blue go, whoever you are! >> Dragon> Flight sense that Jilth shuts up now. :) Kassima isn't much of one for giving clues. She'll not tell you whether it was Professor Plum in the Kitchen with the Wrench or Miss Green in the Sky with bits of herdbeast-entrail still caught in her teeth. Instead, she remains motionless, though dark green eyes slit open to watch the others rather warily. Lysseth> Clap on baby. Clap on. Kvasith charges along the sky with a determination only equal to that of the Trix rabbit. Except he will catch her. Yep Lysseth is just for dragons, and hey that is just what he is. He lashes his tail about as he pumps his wings to increase his speed. Lysseth> Chiloth doesn't even bother to try to loop the loop. He follows doggedly at this point of the flight, cutting corners where he can in his effort to keep up and not crash anything harder than he is. Another dragon near him doesn't qualify, and he eagerly nudges past in his efforts. Lysseth> With a ducked shoulder, Ansuth moves after the exploding supernova, as it were, angling stealthily after her with all the sneakiness of a hunter, a predator. Though the chase is long, strenuous -- but it's a good kind of tired. Hopefully. But he whisks all those premonitions away with clandestine sweep of wings, cutting through the air like a knife, an arrow, a silver bullet seeking to pierce the heart and soul of the blood-seeking green. Aurian slides her hands into her pockets as she watches Kassima. Her eyes certainly wide and admiring. Lysseth> Nyth doesn't engage in aerial acrobatics, he doesn't flaunt his flying skills. The brown just enjoys the display that Lysseth puts on, while using the time that it takes her to execute those spectacular moves to his advantage by trimming at the distance between himself and her. Trila's own blue eyes rise to gaze at Kassima's green ones, lip bitten in an obvious attempt to quell words, thoughts. Her left shoulder twitches, in mimicry of the aerial antics of an audacious, absent Ansuth, 'lashes then fluttering brazenly at the greenrider. Lysseth> Ularrith's humming rises into an amorous whistle as impetuously he drops his shoulder and twists his tail to one side, veering out of the pack of browns to forge his own trail to her. While far above him Lysseth twists and turns, the love-starved though steadfast brown maintains a straightforward flight, conserving his energy for the end. It takes two to tango and he plans to be there for the final dip. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth arghs as she just can't shrug this mental image: when Ularrith said he was whistling, I started thinking of the Gilligan's Island theme, and now I'm picturing him in a red shirt and that weird white hat. ;) Dragon> Flight sense that Kvasith laughs!!! Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << A THREE HOUR FLIGHT... A THREE HOUR FLIGHT... >> Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << Gimme back that braincell, Jilth. >> Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Just sit right back, and you'll see a tail, the tail of a fleeing green.... >> Dragon> Flight sense that Jilth giggles. Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth snickers. Silly. Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Stopit save the filk till after the flight >> M'rgan is more of the Colonel Mustard in the study with the rope type right now as he calmly watches Kassima's every twist and turn. He doesn't display any unusual or remarkable behaviour at the moment. In fact, his expression is almost conservatively bland. Lysseth> Just sit right back, and you'll see a tail: the tail of a fleeing green, drunk well on blood that once was pumped through some poor bovine's spleen. However, it's no island that Lysseth--who's *much* better-looking than any minnow, thank you!--is leading them to; rather, to the height of heights, the sea of stars, the sky above the milky landscape of clouds. Dimming green light creates a sort of reverse silhouette against this backdrop, touching it with green before, briefly, moving on--but leaving a trail, too plain a trail for a dimming dragon to risk. So she dives, does Lysseth, into that cloud cover to hide within its shroud. And if it takes them a three hour tour to find her, that's just peachy by her. Telgar Weyr> Alyssa is considering bed. :} How're you all? Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "Nuts" Telgar Weyr> Kassima has the Gilligan's Island theme in her head, thanks to Mart. ;) Telgar Weyr> M'rgan only whistled. For once I didn't filk. ;) Telgar Weyr> Meli is an hour late, apparently, but good otherwise. :) Lysseth> Three hours! Hah.. maybe 30 minutes. Kvasith follows Lysseth in her dive, he dives like a rock. Dive Kvasith, Dive. The drop forces him faster, though he does have to slow a touch to evade some fool Reachian blue. He rumbles. Kassima is now the one humming, ironically enough, though the song seems nonsensical to Pernese ears. Her tense stance relaxes, minutely, as Lysseth disappears--insofar as something the size of a dragon who also happens to be glowing like a bloody lantern *can* disappear--into the clouds. "Good move, Lyss," she whispers, lashes fluttering closed again. Lysseth> Fearless bugle follows Ansuth as he plunges intrepidly into the unknown, wings beating back cloud's hindrances with streaks of blueness -- wings, o'course. If he has to be the fearless Gilligan, then he has to be, and even with wings semi-pinned back, he seems prepared to unfurl 'em and turn on a wingtip at any moment. A trumpet of defiance, of searching, is emitted, and he drops, looking, seeking. Finding? Lysseth> Chiloth plunges into the cloudbank, which is partially ripped to shreds by the wings of the dragons cutting down into it. Although he could be back on shore, enjoying his cozy weyr, he'd rather join these dragons here each flight, my friends, where he's sure to get a smile. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth considers. Let's say poses after Lysseth's next are catch attempts, or should we go another round? Lysseth> Nyth could fly for three hours, if that were Lysseth's desire, but Lysseth will tire long before he does. All good things must come to an end sometime, and Nyth will be there for that end, so says his streamlined body as he follows Lysseth into the clouds. Grey shrouds brown, the lack of light melding the colours into a dim, seamless mass of darkness. Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << For me, that'd be good, ending soon. :P >> Aurian bounces a touch as she waits. Her mind linked firmly with her lifemate. Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Whatever you prefer Lysseth >> Eyes flicker back closed once more, and Trila allows a smile of excitement, of derring-do brought on by dragon's valiant chase, to spread across her face. "Don't let her lose you, Ansuth," she whispers, words a mere breath. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth nods. Okay, we'll do that then. :) Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth loves Lysseth. Lysseth is loved. *beam* Dragon> Jilth bespoke Flight with << Everyone loves Lysseth! Heck, even I love Lysseth! >> Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << POse after your next is the catch? >> Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << Mrrrowr. >> Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Catch attempts, yeah. :) >> Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth cools. Lysseth> Being a well-muscled brown, Ularrith has the stamina for any length of flight...and what follows after. The problem, as always, is does he have the spped. As dragon after dragon disappears into the clouds after Lysseth, Ularrith trails far below. At first just his nose edges upwards but soon his whole body follows as he ascends to the stars in search of warm, green hide. Lysseth> Lysseth skims through the clouds with the remnants of her speed, able to foresake dodgings and dartings while so hidden. After awhile, though, it occurs to her... hey. She can't *see*. This is probably not a good thing. So, with a rumble of annoyance, she surfaces from cloud's sphere with a blast of air from hastily pumped wings, sending cloud-wisps scattering hither and yon with the force of her movement. Yo! Move it, move it, frantic green coming through! And only once she's reached a height again and her wingbeats begin to falter does the second thought occur to her: using up a bit *less* energy in leaving the cloud probably would have been wise. Now she's left to scramble along the cold, uncomforting night sky, radiance lessening with every heartbeat. But scramble she does; Lysseth never has known when to quit. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth is reminded to remind y'all that if you don't want to win, paging Kassima to say so would be a good idea. :) Kassima's eyes fly open to reveal worry in their depths, and she catches her lower lip between her teeth. "You can't tire *now*, Lysseth, don't you *dare*...." M'rgan's reserved expression is ever so slowly transformed into one of flamboyant flirtatiousness. If Kassima should look his way she would be rewarded with an uninhibited wink and a brash, self-assured smirk. He barely blinks as a trickle of sweat crosses his forehead and drops from his brow though he does open the collar of his jacket, giving the greenrider a smug smile all the while. Dragon> Flight sense that Juliath does a rah rah with the pom pons. Gooooooooo flight! Yay! Lysseth> Kvasith swoops upward a touch. The sandy brown finds himself close to the vibrant green all he can do is whip out there with wing and tail to try and pull her scrawny sexiness against him and take eachother to glorious heights. Lysseth> Chiloth belts through the cloud with what speed he can muster -- the energy is all still there, but it is dangerous, and only the brown's experience with such weather keeps him from careening into any random mountaintops. He makes a tricky question-mark shaped manuver to angle around Lysseth to get him in a good position to foul her wingtips with his. Lysseth> Ansuth's heart lifts along with the rest of him -- now he can see her, he can hear her, and wings gently press away filminess, poofiness of clouds that float away un-noticed -- all that he sees is the luminescent being above him. Neck snakes forth to wrap 'round her tiring one, tail juts sideways as he lifts, attempting to grab her and pull her close, wings and forelegs stretch, reach, touch? A rumble of hope, of seduction -- you, me, now? Please? Lips press together, eyes close and Trila breathes slowly in through her nose, hands lifting to unbutton the top of her tunic, a runnel of sweat mimicing forelock's decisive curl 'round forehead. Lysseth> Nyth rises and dips, riding the upper edge of the cloud banks he's flying through much as a stone with the right shape and the encouragement skims across the surface of a lake. Nyth certainly has the right encouragement, for at this moment, only Lysseth could be the reason he's flying through clouds. And there she is! Lysseth! Nyth's wings hurl him through the air, as he makes haste to try to be the first male to get to where Lysseth reemerges. As he closes the distance between them, his neck and tail reach up and forward, trying to twine with Lysseth's. Lysseth> Ularrith remains outside the pack of males that close around Lysseth like hunting canines. He can only roar his scorn and anger from below as they claw and twist all around her. He can only bellow in frustration at his helplessness for he cannot reach her nor save her. Should she free herself the swiftly rising brown might be able to protect her from further harassment but only if she can break free and fall towards him. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth wingsnugs you all and notes before she starts work on the catch pose that this has, she thinks, been a good flight--you all did marvelously, as ever! :) And we managed to keep the level of filking and chicken-noises down, for once. Imagine that. ;) Dragon> Ansuth bespoke Flight with << How unusual for us. >> Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Flight with << Yeah but other things came out >> M'rgan's smile somehow manages to grow even more smug as he hears the greenrider's words and he boldly starts to unfasten his jacket. He won't be needing it very soon the flight-arrogant brownrider assumes. Dragon> Flight sense that Ansuth snickers. Like Gilligan's Island. Lysseth> Lysseth gives her last energy to a final streak across the sky, pushing herself *away*--she wants people to be able to sing of what a wonderful escape she's going to tell about later, shardit! Ah, but to no avail, for it is not to be; wild wings are clipped, the wild rose's thorns temporarily pulled, as her last fire dims and she begins to fall--only to be snagged by the intrepid wings of Ansuth. Finally, someone to rescue her from that bloody island! Dragon> Flight sense that Chiloth has managed to participate in a legend! Thanks for the opportunity. Lysseth> Chiloth manages, without even seeming disappointed, to give Ansuth and Lysseth a warm bugle and go spiralling out of the sky. Lysseth> Chiloth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl. Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth eeeks. A legend? Now, that idea frightens me. ;) T'garrick leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl. Lysseth> Kvasith hisses the dragonic equivlant of a rasberry and swishes away. Lysseth> Kvasith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl. Aurian leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl. Despite his lifemate's loss, M'rgan still maintains his smug and flirtatious expression. He'll just have to use it on Kena instead. The man quickly refastens buttons that were just opened before turning and striding from the weyr without another glance. Lysseth> Rumble of hope turns to bugle of triumph, Ansuth's tail and neck both snaking sideways to wrap firmly around Lysseth's. Told you so. M'rgan leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl. Keriann scuffs her boots again, though her steps carry her quickly out of the weyr and down to the bowl. Keriann leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl. Lysseth> Nyth flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl. Lysseth> Having screamed his invectives at the sky already, Ularrith doesn't have anything more to say as Lysseth is swept up in Ansuth's wings. While his tail turns limp instead of ramrod straight and the sheen leaves his hide, the brown slinks from the skies. Lysseth> Ularrith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.