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Lysseth's Nineteenth Flight


Date:  October 20, 2004
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Southern Bowl, Central 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.

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Kassi's Note:  Someday, just maybe, I'll get back to having flights at
regular intervals again rather than two years apart.  This flight 
certainly encouraged that, because it went *wonderfully*. :)  Very 
fine turnout, excellent posing by everyone, fun Guest Weyr RP, and--
the icing on the cake!--Kassi actually got to throw knives at somebody
pre-flight!  The only trouble is that flights with so many glorious
chasers make it bloody hard to choose a winner. :)  Thanks again to
everyone who came; I was honored, and seriously enjoyed having all of
y'all there.

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The Log:

M'rek walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Lysseth> Tisiath lumbers here from the north.

Lysseth> Lanisa slides down from Tisiath.

M'rek strolls into the Telgar Living Caverns, carefree and joyful. Or at
the very least with all of his many cares hidden safely from view by his
good mood. He seems relatively sober today as he tosses off, "High Reaches
duties to Telgar."

Rather than seated at her Wing's table as she might normally be, engaged in
some civil activity, Kassima is looming over a very unsettled-looking man
at a table of no particular affiliation; she has a klah pot in hand, and is
brandishing it at him. "Because 'tis as I said: if'n you *don't* drink it,"
she tells this poor soul, voice cold, "I'll pour it right in your lap; and
as you can see, 'tis steaming hot. So--" Happily for G'rignr, she's
distracted into straightening. Someone's in a good mood. This is not
permissable in Kassiland. "Aye, aye, what the bloody ever. Hey, 'tis *you*.
You'll drink the klah. Won't you? *You* have some tiny trace of guts
somewhere."

[Editor's Note:  I left Kassi's proddy desc in the Weyrling 
grad log, but for those who haven't seen that, this is as 
good a place as any to put it:]


Kassima:
	Ah, autumn, that lovely time of Turn when everything is dying and a
woman's thoughts turn towards homicidal mayhem. It may not be fair to blame
Kassima on the season, though; it's another sort of season entirely that's
put her in the frame of mind to dress this way, and anyone familiar with
her will have no trouble guessing the real cause.
	That her costume of choice is black almost goes without saying, but 
it's taken an unusual form this time: a floor-sweeping, figure-hugging 
dress of ink black sisal, trimmed at its hems and expansive, draping cuffs 
with lace of the same dark shade. The creamy curves of her shoulders are 
left bare... as is plenty other pale skin, since to call the gown low-cut 
would be an understatement and the soft, sooty fur that edges the neckline 
doesn't go much farther towards promoting modesty. It's probably only the 
exceedingly tight-laced leather corset worn over the cloth that keeps it 
in place at all. Ropes of beads, onyx and amethyst, circle her throat.
	More beads make an appearance in her hair. The blue-black mass has 
been woven into a handful of long, slender braids; they hang together down 
her back, depending from a topknot that has been skewered by two long 
hairpins of onyx, two of jade. The ends of the braids are beaded in black 
and clatter softly when she moves. As outfits go, it's as peculiar--and, 
with Kassima, as much a warning sign--as the way stress has drawn the skin 
over her features taut, or the unfriendliness present in her dark green 
eyes. She's not wearing any knots or insignia, but it's probably not hard 
to guess what color of dragon she rides.


Lysseth> Lysseth, while never precisely the warmest and fuzziest of
dragons, usually behaves in a manner that's at least polite. Tonight, not
so much. She's staked out a territory for herself near one of the Bowl
walls, marked liberally with furrows where her claws have raked into the
ground, and is curled up within that space in a decidedly tense semicircle
of distinctly bright hide. Her only acknowledgment of the existence of
anything beyond herself at all is a continuous blood-red glare.

M'rek looks at his shirt, has to, "Guts? I thought I'd cleaned up." Then he
grins mischievously at the Greenrider, "Klah? Not my favorite. Is it got
something else in it to give it punch or will you at least set it on fire
first or something?" Ah, good thing he's so good looking, this one, for he
seems short of brains today.

Kassima's posture was already straight, but somehow manages to be
straighter. The beads that tip her braids give a warning rattle. "This,"
she informs frostily, "is *M'kla's klah*. Klah of legend. I'd say 'tis made
from the spilled blood of your kind, only that'd be giving an ingrediant
away. I don't *need* t'set it on fire." She doesn't quite slam the pot
down, but it's not such a distant thing, and she folds her arms beneath her
chest. "Only the daring ever drink. Which means I'm having the sharding
worst bloody-all time getting anybody t'open their mouths--you'd think I
poured *agenothree* in it," and never mind that to judge by her acidic tone
and manner, this might not be such an unreasonable suspicion.

Lysseth> Tisiath settles to the bowl floor, well away from the territory
staked out, and yet close enough he can still admire from outside of claw
range. Lani slides down and gives Lysseth a wary look, but then a smile,
"Evening Lyss." And before she might get -herself- in trouble, she whispers
under her breath, "-Try- and stay out of trouble, Tisi, eh? I just want
some dinner." And she heads on in for just that, leaving it to the blue to
define staying out of trouble. Bad move, or too trusting?

Lanisa walks in from the bowl.

Lysseth> M'tri walks here from the north.

Lysseth> Daikoth lumbers here from the north.

M'tri walks in from the bowl.

Peril. There's peril here and so there's M'rek here to face the perilous
peril. "M'kla's klah?" something's lost in translation of her accent for
him, "It's not going to make me blind or pass purple water is it? The first
I can't manage for now, the second is entertaining enough for the first
half of the day until you run out of targets. All right. I'll give it a
shot. I haven't died yet this sevenday anyway, though wouldn't you rather
throw knives or something, Kassi-darling?"

Lysseth> Ulfianth lumbers here from the north.

It's too perilous! "D'you *see* A'lex when you look in a mirror?" Kassi
snaps back at M'rek. "If'n nay you scarcely need t'worry about the purple,
now do you? The klah might burn your tongue out, or might just kill you, we
can all hope, but if'n it did either of *those* things I'd have gotten the
recipe *wrong*. You don't want t'suggest I got the recipe wrong." She's
standing over poor G'rignr, who's seated at a random table and looking
devoutly grateful to no longer be the focus of her attention; she wears the
same gown she did to graduation, but it's in good shape, and her hair
must've been re-done recently. Her hand pauses in reaching for the klah
pot. "You'd *let* me throw knives at you?" Suspicious.

Lanisa has managed to undo the salute impulse already, or maybe she was
just that bad at it to start with. Either way, she just heads through the
room, aiming for the serving table so she might eye the contents with a
wave in it's place, and in place of a formal greeting. "Just something
quick, then out of here." She's muttering under her breath as she finds a
plate.

Lysseth> Lysseth snarls softly after the passing Lanisa, but spares the
woman barely a glance with male dragons now here to glare at. Warily, mind
you. The snarl that escapes from between slightly bared fangs is louder
this time and more of a warning: this space she's claimed is *hers*, and
one should get too near it only at his own peril.

M'rek, or as he's affectionately known in some circles, That Blockhead,
smiles charmingly to the hostile Greenrider and says quite seriously, "Why,
you don't miss on purpose, or do you? I don't think I look like A'lex, then
again we're never in the same place at the same time. Hey! I know! You can
dip the knife in the klah and then throw it. Two wherries with one stone."
He doesn't see the other arrivals yet but he takes another step closer to
Kassima, "Nice dress, by the way. Stunning. Dressed to kill."

M'tri hums a bit of a tune as he strides into the caverns, hands in his
pockets and eyes more on his boots than where he's walking. He beelines for
the serving tables, taking off his gloves and tucking them beneath his belt
and blowing on the tips of his fingers. Kassi gets a sidelong look, and,
wary of the sharp side of her tongue, opts to keep his mouth shut. He's not
the most suave at times like this.

Lysseth> Tisiath's still holding his ground. Negotiating his version of
staying out of trouble to just looking for now. That's safe, from over
here, right? He doesn't pass up the chance to pose. Never pass up a chance
to pose. First rule of team blooie or something. Other males are only given
a passing acknowledgement as he arches his neck just so, arranges his tail,
like thus. See? He's cute, or so his posture seems to say. Probably not
what Lani meant when she headed inside.

Kassima assures rather silkily as she leaves the klah pot where it stands,
the better to sweep to her own Wing's table and gather a pair of the
knives--there are about a dozen, of varying shapes, sizes, purposes, and
expense--from where they lay on the table before her seat. "Oh, I never
miss. Which 'tis why 'tis so fascinatingly *stupid* for a malerider t'make
that particular suggestion right now. And I'd nay dip the blades in *that*
klah, they'd corrode--Lanisa. Pour yourself a cup from that pot there, why
don't you," 'suggested' the second she turns around. "M'tri. Do the same.
Then, if'n you can survive, you can watch me pin M'rek t'the wall. That's
the problem, y'see--I'm the opposite of dressed t'kill, because this outfit
wouldn't survive blood well. I haven't gotten t'maim *aught*. Yet."

Lysseth> Daikoth has learned his lesson--or so it might seem. All that
hissy fitting from Lysseth earns her a bit of a greeting rumble before the
blue wanders a few steps off and hunkers down. Hmm...pose? He's just fine
the way he is, with his tail curled neatly around one side and his head on
his forepaws, alertly but respectufully. Look, he can claim spots *too*.
Tisiath's work earns an unimpressed yawn, in the meanwhile.

Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth notes for any interested parties
that she's planning to rise above Telgar tonight with blooding to start in
about ten minutes or so. Any interested males should feel free to head on
over and join the +flight channel. :)

Lysseth> Ulfianth lands and then stretches out languidly, eyes ruby fire as
he takes in the glowing forest fire of Lysseth's dusky pine hide. Claws
scrape to the stone of the bowl and he creeps towards her a half step, the
thunder in the back of his throat promising cooling rain for what ails her
now.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Dulcibeth makes a passing OOC attempt to look
macho and blue? ;)

Lanisa's passing glance for M'rek is pitying. At least until she finds
attention on herself. "From that.. um there. I..." Yes, she can speak,
really. She just thought she wasn't going to have to. A glance to M'tri,
then the indicated klah pot, and finally lingering on Kassi, silently
appraising. "Right. -That- pot. Yes, Kassi. And nothing yet? Not even a
tunnelsnake? I could go find you one if you like?" Better safe than sorry
and anything to get out of the room alive herself?

TGW-Bowl>> Volath glides down from a sloped hole-in-the-wall ledge.

TGW-Bowl>> V'lano slides down from Volath.

Lysseth> Dulcibeth senses that Lysseth wolf-whistles and tries not to
swoon. ;)

TGW-Bowl>> Volath springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Dulcibeth sniggers. << Good luck on the flight.
Were I a blue, I'd chase ye myself. ;) >>

M'rek doesn't intend the wariness to settle into his form, but something in
Kassima's voice triggers his body to respond as if for battle. Neck tenses
and shoulders shift for all that he continues to smile warmly. "Evening
Lanisa, M'tri." The blueriders are greeted, but not without a measuring
look from the bronzerider as he starts to settle into the mindspace his
dragon has found. He opens his arms wide and gives the Greenright another
grin, this one on the tempting side, "I'm sure someone would wash my blood
out of it for you, Kassi. Would be a shame to maim me so soon in the
evening, though."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets out her clipboard for roll call! Who
all's up for dancing the masochism tango tonight? ;) (Read as: if you're
chasing, give a yell. :)

Dragon> Volath bespoke Flight with << Check. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Ulfianth chases!

Dragon> Flight sense that Tisiath waves a wing :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Daikoth can tango quite well. :)

"Mmm," M'tri says. And he peers in said pot as though it might contain
poison. "Maybe I shouldn't ask, but why this pot?" Inhaling deeply, he
slants his gaze and frowns down at the pot before ladeling some into his
mug and again wondering if it'll kill him. Oh, pin M'rek to the wall? Now
that's interesting. Not quite prepared to face the wrath of his klah, he
swipes up a chair and drops into it, nodding a succinct greeting to M'rek.

TGW-Bowl>> V'lano leans against the sloped wall of the bowl some way below
the sloped ledge of his, presumably, sloped weyr. Using a fairly ordinary
eating knife and therefore making very slow progress, he's idly shaping a
stick into the form of a slightly smaller stick.

"Would you? If'n you held it down so it couldn't move, and I could peg it
from here, it'd just spurt ichor on *you*... a'course, I couldn't
disembowel it, but that'd still be something." Kassi taps the flat of her
blade against pursed lips, thinking. "In fact, if'n you fetch me a
tunnelsnake, you don't have t'drink. Because 'tis M'kla's klah, M'tri. And
I want t'see if'n you've the jewels t'drink it." She considers M'rek a long
time, eyes narrowed. "Intriguing. An idea. Go sit on the top of yon table,
there, if'n you still want knives thrown at you. If'n you sit very, very
still, I might hit the table instead of you. Out of the nonexistant
goodness of m'heart."

TGW-Bowl>> Leonneth backwings for a landing.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth yays for all of you. :) This should be
great fun. Okay! Male dragons, you can start blooding at your leisure--the
Feeding Grounds are FG off the Central Bowl or Central Bowl Airspace. Lyss
will join in the second pose-round or so. Flight rules/regs: one pose per
Lyss pose please; no limit on rider poses. Guest Weyr will be IC--it's GW
(or WR, before I get there to change it) off the Southern Bowl. Flight
channel will be OOC, and feel free to joke and heckle here if you want to,
I don't mind. ;) I'm a little rusty when it comes to flights, so beg your
pardon in advance. Any questions can be directed to Kassi. :)

"Evening sir." Alright, she's not shaken -all- the habits as she greets
M'rek. Lani pours a mug of the juice, rather than the scary klah, since she
has permission to skip and prepairs to bring her plate of goodies and such
over as if about to claim a seat next to M'tri. "You want me to get one
now? Or do I get to eat first?" Maybe not the safest of questions, but when
has Lani ever played everything safe. "I don't suppose you'd take my word
that Trii does, eh Kassi?" Well, she can try.

TGW-Bowl>> From Leonneth's neck, A'tan waves at Emilly and V'lano

TGW-Bowl>> A'tan slides down from Leonneth.

TGW-Bowl>> A'tan disappears down the tunnel that leads out of the Telgar
Caldera.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly cross the Bowl rather aimlessly, hands stuck in pockets.
She spots the former Weyrling and nods, walking thattaway. "Heya V'lano -
how's it feel to be all graduated?"

M'rek tilts his head back and laughs before he looks towards the table in
question and shrugs, turning on his boot heel and going over to slide up on
to the table. Boots are rested in a chair, then it's chin to hands, elbows
to knees, and a patient if alert look. "Hey, how'd graduation go, anyway?
Congrats and all that." Offered to the Bluerider coterie. He's fairly still
and almost well behaved now.

Lysseth> Lysseth would deny any appreciation of posing, or notice of any
male at all save in the sense that they are intruders upon territory which
is hers; in the sense that they are, at the moment, Enemies, never to be
let out of sight. Her wings raise, unfurl slightly--then fold back to her
sides. Only to repeat the maneuver, as if she's yet considering her choice
of action.

Telgar Weyr> Ursa says, "EEEEEEek. Is it tonight, Kassi?"

Lysseth> Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished bronze
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Nepenth and his
rider, Kaelyn of HighReaches Weyr. 

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "It is!"

Telgar Weyr> M'tri hides.

TGW-Bowl>> "Me?" No, the other V'lano. The young rider smiles faintly,
holding the stick up and eying its form as if it's art. The knife gets
pocketed while he muses, "Pretty decent. The drills are harder - but I
blame Lanisa for that. She's got to look good, given the circumstances." He
grins, stealing an upward glance at Emilly, then turns aside to fling the
stick off toward the runner pasture, of which it falls several feet short.
"I feel I can at last breathe, though." He turns again and notes, "I
appreciate everything you did for us."

Telgar Weyr> Yselle wishes the chasers all good luck, and the losers either
a nice bottle of wine or a friendly face afterwards.

Lysseth> Nepenth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Nepenth bugles a warm greeting to each of the dragons, except for
Lysseth who gets a caressing croon.

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "Poor Ursa. She only has my ugly mug to contend
with."

Lysseth> Ulfianth watches Lysseth's posturing, almost seeming to measure
the span of her wings and then he lets out a deeper rumble and turns
towards the feeding grounds, all business tonight.

Lysseth> Ulfianth lumbers north.

TGW-Bowl>> Ulfianth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Be extravagant. Buy a new mug."

Lysseth> Kaelyn jumps down Nepenth's side to the ground, as the dragon
warbles a greeting.

Kassima weighs a knife in her hand. Her features smooth out into an
inscrutable mask, neither concentration nor venom visibly on display; she
flicks her wrist, and--*thwack*. The knife quivers delicately in the wood
of the table, half a centimeter to M'rek's left. *Thwack* again, and
there's another to his right. Oh-so-sweetly, she offers, "And if'n you
*really* trust me, you could spread 'em--wait a moment. Lanisa. Are you
informing me that you have *slept with my wife*?" Uh-oh.

Kaelyn walks in from the bowl.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly grins at the young rider, nodding. "Mmm - so you haven't
been tapped yet?" she questions, brows lifting slightly. "And yeah ...
breathing at last, I remember that feeling." Then she chuckles. "You're
welcome - and thanks for being such a great group. It made it easier for me
to learn the ropes."

Telgar Weyr> Emilly laughs!

Telgar Weyr> Ursa is all about L'han's mug

Lysseth> Tisiath's good with not gaining appreciation for his posing. He
poses just to pose. And with a warble he will grant her, her space --
momentarily, by proceeding her to the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Tisiath lumbers north.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith joins in.

TGW-Bowl>> Tisiath springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

TGW-Bowl>> Sarevith glides down from a painted hole-in-the-wall ledge.

Lysseth> Nepenth lumbers north.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay slides down from Sarevith.

TGW-Bowl>> Nepenth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

TGW-Bowl>> "I haven't." V'lano's shoulders roll and he takes one of the
just-emptied hands up to his shoulder to indicate the second's knot of
Icemelt, still present in its very telling way. Unabashed, he smirks. "I
can't decide to think whether they're fighting over who'll take me - or
over who won't. - But hey, you were new at it? I didn't even know."

M'tri says, as though he understands, "M'kla's klah. Okay. Though, I've
never been particularly scared of klah, period." Now he's all prepared to
down some of that klah, even on pain of death. It's very unlucky that
Lanisa times that last comment at the same time he starts to knock back
some of it. With a very well-timed hand movement, he sweeps the rim away
from his mouth and sets the mug down, laughing quietly to himself. Lani
gets a rather amused look, though his words are for Kassi. "You're still
right up there on the top of my list, Kassi dear."

Kaelyn steps into the living cavern and looks around the room. She raises a
hand in greeting, especially when she recognizes M'rek who gets a polite
nod. "Reaches duties, to Telgar and her queens."

M'rek doesn't move a hair, or a lack of hair, when he sees the flash of the
first knife out of the corner of his eyes. A whistle escapes him as the
second blade sinks in, "So you really /do/ throw. And well too." A glance
goes to either side in appreciation of what might have been if she'd not
been so steady of hand. Then, he doesn't have to say anything more because
the banter with M'tri and Lanisa has drawn his attention as well and he can
barely hide a laugh behind one hand before he nods to Kaelyn, "Hail, Kae."

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly squints shoulderwards and nods. "Aha - still seconding
then - good for you," she says lightly then laughs. "Hmm ... I hope that
latter ... and yep, completely new to it. Hopefully I'll be able to help
out back at the Reaches too ..." eyes track the increasing number of
dragons floating over into the feed pens. "Looks like someone's going up
tonight," she remarks casually.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay slips down from Sarevith's neck, and if his eyes could
whirl confusion, they might. "What's the big hurry, you lump?" he asks the
dragon, cheerfully. "It isn't like there won't be herdbeast, or just about
anything else you fancy, there when it is your turn. You'd think I never
feed you." Turning away from his brown lifemate, T'bay realizes that there
are others in the bowl, others he recognizes, and he starts toward them
with a wave.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Ulfianth lands in the center of the pen
with the purpose of scattering the largest number of beasts possible.
Razor-sharp dragon eyes track the panicked movements and breath in the
scent of fear before onyx tipped claws reach out to make the first kill.

"Graduation was good." Lani says carefully, as she answers M'rek, because
she's just noticed the inherent danger in her last comment. She glances at
Trii with wide eyes that are both amused and hesitant as she searches for
the best answer. Well, his reply prompts hers, "Now Kassi. You know I've
got to be a good harem girl after all. But that hardly makes me you. As he
says."

Lysseth> Daikoth doesn't appear loathe to leave his position, for once.
Just because he knows it's his, he lumbers to his feet and croons,
politely, before spanning his wings and gliding towards the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Daikoth lumbers north.

TGW-Bowl>> Daikoth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Nepenth grumbles as he flies into the
pen. He watches the wherries with swirling eyes. A wherry, nah not enough
in them. He contemplates another, but finally his eyes come to rest on a
larger buck near the back up the pen. He tucks his wings in tight and
lunges at the animal and snaps it neck in two with a fluid motion. He
settles down and watches the others as he sucks the blood noisily.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Either early to catch on to something
'in the air' or else hungry for unrelated reasons, Volath prowls the
northern stretch of the grounds on foot, keeping a large stretch of land
effectively cleared of domesticated feed beasts. From time to time he bows
his head and grazes the grass with the tip of his muzzle, then lifts his
head high and scents the air. Suddenly he rears back, spreading wings, and
hails upward just enough to spring aloft, taking off like a dart after a
caprine grazing lonely near the pen's fence.

TGW-Bowl>> Sarevith springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Kassima scoops up a third knife in a silvery flash, quite prepared to
descend on M'tri in black fury. "How *dare* you call me that when you've
been tumbling some, some *malerider*," spat as if that were the worst curse
on the face of the world, "and now you're trying nay t'*smirk* about it,
you little son of a--I'm going t'kill you *too*!" She announces this to
Lanisa in a rather shrill voice. Probably she'd have some choice verbal
tidbits for Kaelyn and M'rek too, but--"Nay," she tells the air flatly.
"Nay. Nay, nay. You are *nay* doing this now. Why d'you have t'do this now!
Wait until I've gotten t'maim somebody for just once in your flaming
useless life!"

TGW-Bowl>> "Not again," comes V'lano's vaguely irritable reply. He kneels
abruptly as T'bay's coming over, then straightens; from a small pile of
them at his feet he's picked up another of the sticks. Out of his pocket
comes the equivalent of a butter knife again, which with the thoughtless
casualness of a butcher he waves cheerily at his onetime travelmate.
"H'lo," he greets, then sets to shaving the stick down.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, The desert brown yearling joins the
gathering males in the feeding grounds, a violet tinge of confusion in his
rapidly whirling eyes. He almost hovers for a moment before descending down
below with his eyes closed, his nostrils quivering as he flies slowly,
tracking a doe most interestedly by sense of scent alone.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith notes that last one in the fg was Sarevith.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Tisiath waits, taking his time as the
others scatter the herd. And only then, when there is herdbeast driven to
the edge does he leap the fence and make a slightly clumsy grab that brings
it down. But from there the kill is neat and he fastens his teeth on the
creatures neck to drink his fill.

Lysseth> Lysseth unwraps herself from her coil with a roar that begins low,
but soon increases in volume until it's nearly enough to shake the ground
beneath her--certainly enough to tell a certain rider that she'll have *no*
part of her commands, as she soon displays by springing aloft, purpose in
every motion.

Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft.

Lysseth> You fly towards the north end of the bowl.

Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Daikoth hits the ground of the feeding pens still moving, his head
low and his wings half unfurled. Looking much like a huge blue rock, he
curls and stretches his neck out, stopping completely and parting his jaws
slightly, waiting...it's perfect timing when one of the beasts, running in
terror from the rest of the males, realizes it's mistake too late. He snaps
his jaws closed, and just as quickly as the creature's killed he drinks.

Lysseth> Lysseth doesn't descend on the milling beasts below immediately,
nor join the gathering throng. She flies above--but not so very high. High
enough to be out of reach. Close enough to tease perhaps, to show her
mastery of the air, that she *can* fly so low and maintain total control.
It's at the end of a complete circuit that she looses one shrill scream and
lets the claws she's been sharpening so diligently end the life of a
galloping buck herdbeast. The flower of his blood hasn't long to bloom
before she fastens her teeth on his throat, drinking greedily, her tail
lashing with every pulse of the weakened, dying heart.

Lysseth> The lone caprine fails to sense death oncoming until it's too
late. Its startled bleat cut short by Volath's temperamental nip across its
throat, the little beast gives up its blood easily - too easily. Unsated,
the young bronze shakes his head violently, sending the carcass off over
the fence at the height of one of the shaking arcs, then turns inward
toward the herdbeasts and sets his aim on a larger creature. He takes off
after it, caught up enough in the blooding to be all but unaware of the
feeding green.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay grins as he approaches Vel and Emilly, "Say! You're still
here. It's good to see you again. I was afraid you would get going right
after graduation, and I wouldn't have the chance to say thanks for
suffering us, and all that." He brushes some dust off of his pants, looks
over toward the feeding grounds. "Yours acting all strange, or just Sare?
Like he hasn't eaten in years or something." Finally, the lectures,
lessons, words of advice, and pretend scenarios come back to him, and the
holdboy pales. "Uh...right." A weak nod, then almost plaintively, "So soon?"

Kaelyn moves over to the serving tables pouring a cup of wine before moving
back over to the group. She nods at the new riders, "Congratulations on
your graduation. It was a wonderful ceremony." She looks to M'rek, "Hello
M'rek. How are you?" The bluerider watches him a moment and then smiles at
Kassima raising her drink to her, "Kassima, hello. A'tan speaks highly of
you. Its been a while since I've seen you."

M'tri appears very close to retreating as Kassi whirls on him, though
pushing the chair out without killing himself or taking his eyes off the
greenrider is highly unlikely. So, what does he do? He falls silent,
watching the knife carefully. Kaelyn's greeting isn't returned, whether
Kassi's paused in her advancement or not. At her complaint, he dares to
take half an exhalation - no maim?

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Oh, one more thing! While I'll try
not to pose Lyss until everyone has posed, other than that, no need to keep
to any pose order. :) >>

Lysseth> Sarevith's approach toward an unwary doe by scent alone is stilled
by the rustling of other dragon wings--he is not alone? Frozen for an
instant, he tests the air, lashing out his tongue to get a better sample.
Satisfied, or perhaps delighted by the awareness of the others, still
unaware of the taunting cause, he lunges abruptly, then has his chosen prey
in a clumsy but intent embrace. His nose raises into the air, smoothly,
unhurried, and then the lifeblood coats his muzzle and he opens the throat
of the beast, then drinks.

M'rek slides forwards and drops from the table to the floor as soon as
Kassima seems to be advancing on the harem owner and his first string
choice. "Now, now, you don't want his blood all over that dress either,
Kassi. That's the kind of dress that'll earn you a round of footsie and
anyone's dinner table." M'rek? Trying to distract? Maybe. Kaelyn gets a
nod, "I'm good, still not maimed, though maybe later." The knife in the
Greenrider's hand gets a respectful look and he stops a few paces away from
the tableau.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly nods T'bay's way. "Yep - still here ... haven't finished
packing in fact," she says with a sheepish grin and runs a hand through her
hair. "So soon T'bay? Happens often enough - it's just that now he's
interested ... though if you really don't want him to chase you can argue
with him."

Lysseth> Nepenth tosses his kill aside as he turns his attention on the
gowing green. He croons to her with tenor tones before pushing off his tail
to take flight on the other side of the pen. The blue soars above the
wherries, scattering them before capturing on mid-air. He settles back down
once again, red eyes watching and waiting for the green to take flight.

"Hey now. Kassi." Lani starts to protest, this at least keeping her
distracted from just how well her blue isn't paying attention to her 'stay
out of trouble' request. She'll have to work on that later, "You don't
really want to do that. I mean. How would you tell Kis and Kai that you
killed their sister?" Low dirty tactic, yes. Her glance at Kaelyn suggests
she thinks the Reaches rider is the one whose lost her mind. Talking so
calmly seeming to Kassi, -and- smiling. When Kassi's holding a knife?

TGW-Bowl>> "Haven't you yet?" V'lano's retort is perhaps more temperamental
than is really called for, and he breathes deeply through his nose to calm
himself before explaining, "Volath's chased - if you could call it that -
twice. Badly. Well, once, would be more accurate; the first time he didn't
even get off the ground. Drank like the rest, but trotted on home after
that, going on about beating hearts and whatnot." For once being a butcher,
the slightly elder of the seconds makes an appropriately disgusted face at
that. "Second wasn't much better. Lost interest just a little ways into the
sky. I'd try to argue him back but - " A shrug. "He's got to learn, I
guess." V'lano's mood brightens and, thoughtfully, he reminds T'bay, "So's
Sarevith!"

Caught between her own nigh-insensible wrath and Lysseth's sudden motion,
Kassi just stands in one place for a moment, mouth opening and closing but
nothing coming out. Each of the maleriders present gets a wild-eyed verging
on bewildered stare. Finally, she just gives a short, wordless scream of
frustration and whirls to run for the Bowl, knife and all--but she pauses
on the threshhold to point back at M'tri and Lani and--why not?--Kaelyn
too. "I'll gut you all *later*!" And she's out.

Lysseth> Ulfianth looks up, ice in summer muzzle touched green by ichor,
and he tracks Lysseth's movements while forked tongue flickers outwards.
When she starts to blood he turns back to his own meal and finishes in
haste so that he can move on to the next course.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

TGW-LC>> M'rek almost looks disappointed to be left out of the gutting.
Almost.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay raises one brow in a quizzical expression. "You can?" He
casts a doubtful glance toward the direction of Sarevith's abandonment of
his rider, makes a funny face. "I somehow doubt that would work really
well. He's, ah, how do I say this? Rather intrigued by the whole thing,
first one and all. And she smells good." A flush comes over his face, "I
mean, he says she smells good." A light headshake, "I guess we've just been
in the wrong place at the wrong time, or vice versa." A nod to Emilly, then
a puzzling tip of his head. "When do you head out? Are you sure it has to
be soon?"

M'rek comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> Tisiath pauses in his drinking, teeth still sunk in deep as he
watches Lysseth's arrival with eyes violet with appreciation. His croon is
deep in his throat, he can't help himself just then as he finishes with the
beast and discards it. Moving on to claim a wherry with more grace and
speed this time. His, wherry. His space and a his gaze, following her as he
drinks again.

TGW-LC>> Kaelyn raises a brow and looks at the group. "Ok, so who is the
head of this harem? Nepenth wanted to come look at the pretty green and now
all this." She shakes her head and chuckles. "M'rek are you responsible for
this?" the green eyes tease.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly smiles at both young riders, unfazed by V'lano's
temperament. "He'll get better," she offers encouragingly. And the nods
again for T'bay's question. "Sure you can. If you really don't want him to
go up, you can argue him off - though it usually works better to convince
before they start blooding." She casts an eye towards the grounds briefly.
"Mm - yeah, I don't think you'd have much luck calling him off now without
being very very determined." Shoulders lift a little. "Soon ... next
seven-day or so I expect. I guess I'm sort of waiting around to see you all
get tapped." That's said with a fond grin for both now.

Lysseth> Daikoth lifts his head, beast still in his jaws, to follow
Lysseth's progress above and then into the pen. Without a thought, he drops
the drained creature in his mouth. A small croon-warble to Lysseth is given
before he returns to the task at hand. A pause and a few lengthy strides
carry him to another member of the terrified herd. Without trouble, he
seizes a small doe. This kill is no more creative than the last, but little
of the liquid escapes to fall on the ground and he slurps greedily to
prevent that from changing.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth considers. How does takeoff after Lyss's
next pose sound? :)

TGW-Bowl>> V'lano returns the knife to the pocket it came from a second
time and rubs the smoothed end of the stick idly over his jacket-sleeve,
watching the leather ripple and flatten under the pressure of the twig.
"You got it right the first time," he murmurs sidelong to T'bay. "I bet
Sare will be a natural. Volath's such a sport - I can't imagine any flying
female making it easy for him." His mouth purses, the lower lip pressed
forward by a straying tongue over lower teeth. The thoughtful, absent
expression persists for a solid minute before he replaces it with an effort
at a smile for Emilly. "You think it will be that fast? I guess I can
hope." Another stolen glance at his holdmate, then, and: "Should we be
somewhere else?"

M'tri comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

TGW-LC>> Lanisa relaxes. Oh yes. She relaxes, for all of a moment as she
watches Kassi, and then M'rek head out. And -that's- when the other sinks
in. "Tisi? Oh shard it. No. No, no, no. Trii?" She turns her gaze to him
then, half questioning and just maybe worried too, before blinking at
Kaelyn, "Harem? -- You don't want to know." And then she's heading for the
door.

Lanisa comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ulfianth is down with that.

Kassima stands still as stone, facing towards the distant grounds and
clutching her knife hilt less as if she intends to use it and more as if it
provides her some degree of comfort. It isn't the usual litany she murmurs
under her breath; no 'blood only,' but a soft stream of invective for that
distant, disobediant dragon.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay scratches his head, eyes unconsciously sneaking toward his
just-graduated-group's Icemelt identification as she mentions being tapped.
"I imagine it can take a while for people to decide, so I hope you're
feeling patient," he jests, then, "Yeah. I'm guessing he's got a mind of
his own about now, and nothing in my mind is going to make a whit of
difference, including reminding him about his size, or his slowness
compared to the little speedies." After considering a moment, he adds, "But
what will you do, when you return? If you don't mind the quest--" Vel's
question sinks in, and he looks to Emilly as if she must have the answers.
"Be somewhere? No drills now, I hope?"

TGW-LC>> Kaelyn sighs and puts her glass down and follows the young riders
out of the living cavern hoping that she doesn't leave Telgar with any wounds.

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << sounds good to me >>

Kaelyn comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Dragon> Volath bespoke Flight with << Sure? >>

M'rek follows the greenrider and her knife, wary but interested and maybe
just a little cheesed that he doesn't deserve gutting as well. After all,
he's been known to do some guttable things in his time. On the other hand
there's living and that's pretty good of late. He splits the difference and
goes with a little mood he likes to call 'not drunk yet'. Eyes go to the
feeding pens and watch a moment before he looks around for the guest weyr,
"Which way from here, Kassi?" Spoken softly and from a safe number of steps
away from the blade.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly points her chin Guest Weyrwards. "Soon as she's off into
the sky you probably want to wander thattaway. Otherwise it could get a bit
awkward," she explains, hint of wry grin playing around lips. "As for
waiting ... aye, it might take a while longer than that. Wishful thinking
on my part, I suppose. I just want to see you all happily settled before I
go. It's the mother in me. As for when I go home ... ask S'din if I can
join his team I expect ... go back to things as they were ... or close to it."

Dragon> Flight sense that Daikoth agrees.

Dragon> Sarevith bespoke Flight with << baaa. ;) >>

Lysseth> Lysseth drains the life from her kill with practiced efficiency
and little struggle for the meat that on other nights would tempt her so
greatly. Veteran of this fight, she. Aware of what she wants--for now--and
of how to get it, and energy spent quibbling over meat now is energy she
won't have to escape soon. Soon. But another beast must meet its death
first, sent flying at least a yard by an offhanded lash of claws, and she's
*there* at the corpse in a breath to make its life essence her own. Glowing
brighter than ever, she tenses her wings as she licks the last drops from
muzzle and fangs, then jumps--up to the stars, whose distant lights *she*
shall chase.

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.

TGW-Bowl>> "I wish you the best," V'lano replies with as much grace as he
can muster, poking the twig at his jacket sleeve as if it's a giant needle
and the cuff needs mending, which if he begins poking any harder, it will
soon. "You'd make a good Weyrlingmaster, I think. If that's your plan - "
He flicks a dark-eyed glance, faintly apologetic, up at the rider who
helped train him, then a warning one, suddenly wary, at his mosttime
friend. "See you there," he remarks, simply, and takes off southward,
dropping the stick with a clatter along the way.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Ulfianth is halfway done with his third
blooding when Lysseth takes off. Given the furious speeds that greens are
capable of he suspects that his best chances are to catch her quick before
she finds her pace and so claws unclench and muscles coil to launch.

Lysseth> Ulfianth rises up from the feeding grounds.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Nepenth lifts his head from the poor
blooded beast and bugles as Lysseth takes flight. He watches the glow that
radiates from her beautiful green hide that seems to make her shimmer as
she rises to meet the stars in the sky. He is not so quick to take off as
the others who are younger. The large blue throws the creature aside as he
bunches the muscles underneath him and springs up into the air.

TGW-Bowl>> Emilly blinks at V'lano's words, clearly touched. "Thank you
V'lano ... that's a compliment I'll surely treasure." She sends a bit of a
wave after him. "Good luck to you and Volath," she says simply.

Lysseth> Nepenth rises up from the feeding grounds.

TGW-Bowl>> T'bay eyes the indicated direction, shifts back and forth from
foot to foot uneasily. "He's...gah." Unable to supress the desire, he spits
onto the ground, makes a truly unpleasant face. "I'm really sorry--that was
awful. I feel like I can taste blood. And what's worse? It almost tasted
good." Noting V'lano's rapid movement, T'bay heads after, worried about
being left and wondering where to go. "I do as well. You'd make a fine
guide. You survived us, after all." A wink and a blush, and he's off.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, After his lipcoating of the doe's blood
is complete, Sarevith notices the presence of the lady. She is granted a
low, sweet croon that is reminiscent of a seductive and almost mournful
jazz trombone before a second beast is sacrificed to her pheremones, the
escapist lifeblood leaving cubist line drawings on the scarred stone
beneath. Latently, the brown notes the disappearance of the illustrious
green, and it takes him a moment to rear up onto his haunches and launch
himself toward the star he hopes to follow 'til morning.

V'lano walks here from the north.

T'bay walks here from the north.

Kaelyn stands behind the others as she seems to stroll along after them.
She raises a brow curiously as she studies M'tri with her green eyes.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Tisiath discards the wherry, finished or
not, it is dropped to the ground as the stout blue springs up and after in
a flash of midnight blue. Not the quickest off the mark, but not the
slowest either. A few wing beats strait up, and then twisting, angling to
find her initial direction and follow the glowing green.

Lysseth> Tisiath rises up from the feeding grounds.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Volath seizes the herdbeast with three
of four sets of talons, balancing half awing and half on one rearleg as the
animal goes down, crying. Like the caprine's bleat, this sound is also cut
short, this time by a long drag of a talon. Rearranging his limbs around
and above his kill, the young dragon bloods again from the fountain in the
beast's neck. The upraising of dragon wings sets his still-spanned sails
shivering in the blasts of air and reflexively he flexes them, drawing
their glimmering lengths in toward his sides, then sending them back out.
Late to finish but suddenly intent, he peers up into the sky, sighting the
luminescence of the green above. With a lurching leap, he plunges upward
after her.

Kassima breathes out a long, low breath when Lysseth finally ascends. Her
eyes lose a little bit of their glazed look, at least temporarily. "What--?
Oh." This time her exhalation's a sigh. "Oh, shells--" She doesn't answer
directly, but her quick and arrow-straight course for the guest
weyr--pushing past maleriders with her knife-free hand if need be--may be
clue enough.

You push aside the curtain and enter the guest weyr.

Lysseth> Sarevith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Volath rises up from the feeding grounds.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Daikoth drops the second, dried beast,
only in time to turn to watch Lysseth jump into the sky. The sky, that's
where he needs to be now. And so he follows, as quickly as he can, muscles
unspringing to launch him into the sky with a loud snap of the wings, his
gaze intent upon the prize ahead.

Lysseth> Daikoth rises up from the feeding grounds.

M'rek comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

M'tri comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

Lanisa comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

Kaelyn comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

T'bay comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

V'lano comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

Lanisa keeps her distance from Kassi now, but strolls slowly after. A
glance only at each of the others as that do as well. She pauses in the
entryway, frowning as she slides her hands in her pockets, shifts her gaze
skyward a moment, then steps inside and clear of the door.

Lysseth> Lysseth is clearly not intending to waste any time in gaining a
lead, getting ahead, because her wings are stretched to their fullest dark
extent and pounding away at the air without mercy until it finally
surrenders a thermal to her. She swerves into it, glad to call it dance
partner; lets it carry her up faster than she might carry herself, and
attends to the matter of *distance*. Her flight in this early time is easy,
swift, and fiercely joyful. Let the others fly as they will! She needn't
worry. For tonight, all your sky are belong to Lysseth.

Dragon> Flight sense that Volath cackles.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith chokes on his dinner, howls with laughter.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth couldn't resist the impulse. ;)

Kaelyn steps into the weyr and stands in the doorway for a moment as her
eyes adjust. She scoots past Lanisa as she studies the young woman before
moving over to an empty wall. The bluerider focuses her eyes on Kassima and
the knife she holds in her hand with some concern showing on her face.

V'lano's a latecomer here, though he beats T'bay's steps in by a few paces.
The time behind the others leaves him clear entry through the opening
leading into the weyr, and he trudges right on through without comment or
pause to acclimatize to the lesser light. He finds a place near one of the
baskets and studies his jacket-sleeve in its glow, shoulder blades planted
against the weyr's wall.

M'tri crosses his arms as he steps through the threshold, striding
deliberately inside and instantly taking up a position that lands him very
close to one of the walls. He doesn't use it for support, though. Instead,
the bluerider is standing very straight, shoulderblades not even grazing
the stone. His eyes are turned to Kassima, now.

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << I'm obviously missing something >>

Kassima stalks in more than she walks, the train of the black gown trailing
lightly behind her and her braids twining together as her motion jostles
them. There's a wall over there that's her very own, and she takes
possession of it decisively. Her green eyes, scanning them all, are
hostile, though she continues to clasp her one knife as if she's forgotten
what it is.

T'bay sneaks first his the tips of his orangeybrown hair into the room, his
eyes still behind the main part of the curtain. "Uh..." Yeah. Enough
murmured, he slips inside, comforted by the presence of others who are
familiar and from his group to know this must be the right place, so his
shoulders relax somewhat and he takes a slow, deep breath, then scoots
inside, not, at first, noting the knife, but staying far from the Obviously
Owned Wall.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth grins sheepishly. It was a reference to
the 'All your base are belong to us' flash movie on the web. ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Nepenth nods. Thanks for clearing that up for me.

Lysseth> Ulfianth only tries to keep up in the first few minutes and then
he switches to a waiting game, hanging back in the group and watching the
swifter blues and brown run the green down. A near taupe brown shifts
against him, jostling to get by as he finds his own pace and the Reachian
bronze takes a snap at him that doesn't strike buy does leave a lasting
impression.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith peeks, was a time of day specified,
other than by the game?

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith mentally catches up. Stars! Night. Right.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth nodnods! Night, or we can do late dusk if
folk would rather; I'm flexible. :) (Insert some racy comment here, I'm
sure. ;)

Dragon> Dianneth bespoke Flight with << She is! I've heard! (duck) >>

M'rek strolls in, moving his head a little to stretch his neck, and then
nods to the others gathered before he sits down in the very middle of the
weyr. Legs cross over one another and then he rests his hands to his knees
and reaches to pull a silvered flask from the inside pocket of his riding
jacket.

Lysseth> Tisiath's new enough to this game that using the thermal too
doesn't even occur to him. Rather, he'll expend the energy of youth to
follow his desire. Violet eyes whirl faster, even as wing beats increase to
claw for altitude, lifting him higher and ever after. The shadings of
sunset being all that soon distinguish his dark form against the canvas of
the night sky, for any that look up from the ground below.

Lysseth> Nepenth lifts up into the air steadily and easily. He settles
easily into a thermal much lower than that of Lysseth. He is patient in
this waiting game. He has done it for turns and knows his limitations and
abilities. He banks to the left to avoid a near collision with a brown from
Ista who seems to think he is a small blue, but doesn't lose sight of Lysseth.

Kaelyn crosses her arms over her chest and chuckles softly at M'rek. She
speaks softly to him, "You going to share that flask with a fellow Reachian?"

Lysseth> Volath beats smoky wingspars against the night, diving upward with
each vast beat. Sheer speed is not going to be his saviour here, among the
dashing darts of blue and green, but he's either too young or too enchanted
to know it. The still-maturing bronze sets an arrow's course toward the
green, pacing slower blues in his effort. With greater span, fewer flaps
give him comparable reach, but the greater toll on his musculature sends
his dappled-velvet hide twitching over wingjoints and spine.

Lysseth> Sarevith has his sights set on the chosen one, the brown's size
resulting in a lumbering approach to the air. The blue-tinted tips of his
wingspars glint in the last rays of day and the greeting beams of
moonlight, seeking to collect it in pools and usher it onward with strong
beats of his chestnut wings. Distance has been gained by the lass, though
her shape is clearly outlined by the evening's hazy shades, and it is for
that shape Sarevith aims, taking a slower course parallel to hers yet far
below, conserving his energy.

Lysseth> Daikoth is swift, strong--but not stupid, not even in his youth
and inexperience. Not once does he lose sight of Lysseth, his prize. When
satisfied with his height, he abandons his own thermal to assault the air
with wide wings, attempting to at least gain distance ahead of the larger
dragons. There will be no waiting here--waiting wastes time. He is taking
the initiative.

Lanisa settles for a place nearest the door she barely cleared. Her posture
hunched, as she sends a narrowed look after Kaelyn for looking at her, and
then dismisses her just as quick as she turns her reluctant gaze to Kassi.
She backs up a step or two, until her spine is braced against the wall and
there is no where else to retreat to, while they wait anyway.

Lysseth> Lysseth allows the delights of wind and air and cool night sky to
blind her to all else for some moments longer, revelling in her escape
while it seems so clear, so very certain. Right now she surely believes
that she can reach the unreachable star if only she tries enough; that
freedom is the most glorious quest she could ever imagine. A triumphant
trumpet escapes her, one note of the song her lithe green body dances to;
she dips, she rises, she climbs--and then, then the thought starts to nag
her again. There were others, weren't there? And perhaps it would do her
better to twist in the air just *so*, angling her path off on some steep
new vector fit to challenge the wings of any who'd make her *their*
impossible dream.

Lysseth> Ulfianth favors the air with the occasional loving stroke from his
wings, but otherwise seems to act as if he has all the time in the world.
At least, that's the master plan of old Lord Ulf. It's working fine for
him, working as well as Bitran wine until Lysseth turns and shakes the
foundations of his holding. Desire eats away at careful precision and he
starts to hasten without even realizing what he's about.

M'rek takes a swallow and then offers the flask up to Kaelyn with a
warning, "Batch 11 from still number 4, don't breath it in whatever you
do." Then his hands are back to his knees and he's chuckling at the shift
in his dragon, "The best laid plans of Lord and dragon to get.." his voice
trails off into a friendly smirk.

T'bay finds many of the spaces along the wall to be occupied as he glances
uneasily about, the heat of so many likely to blame for the pink tinge of
his slightly rounded cheeks. He settles for blending in, one of many
resting in the throng, uncertain nervous fingers reflexively picking at the
Icemelt wing's identifying mark, plucking threads from its edges to keep
his arms from trying to flap along with the pounding of Sarevith's wings.
"Is that a knife?" he is finally able to whisper, his eyes finding its
weilder.

V'lano folds his arms, the better to examine the back of his left hand, the
fingers draped across the inner elbow of his right arm. It is some time
before he looks up, fixing a gaze on Kassima, seeing as a dragon sees -
though human's consideration, a pace removed from the present, causes his
brows to knit a second later, making him look suitably puzzled. Words break
his lapse and he actually cracks a thin smile. "Yea, I think so. Looks like
it's got a cutting edge," although it's M'rek's transferring flash that he
watches.

Kassima rises up on the balls of her feet in mimicry of her lifemate's
rise, the ghost of a smile crossing features that have otherwise gone
blank. She's conscious, her eyes are open--but they *see* nothing. Their
green irises are glassy. Stars are what she knows, and thermals; and for
now, all else is invisible. "Aye," she murmurs. "Aye, aye...." But that's
probably more encouragement to Lysseth than answer to any words.

Lysseth> Nepenth climbs higher into the sky as the winds envelop his body
as blue as a calm sea. The gentle moonbeams dance off his hide making the
splashes of whitish-blue dance with the swirling energy of tidal wavecaps.
He croons sweetly to Lysseth as she turns to challenge them. Nepenth pushes
past Volath and snaps out at him, but only as a warning.

Lysseth> Tisiath appreciates freedom. Freedom to display his finesse in the
air, even if not so refined as her. But for him, there is only the choice
of how and where to follow, as he's given way to now is the time. So while
still below the glory that is her he changes course to match her new
direction turning to not lose sight of her has he still works for height
and to narrow the gap between them.

Kaelyn takes the silver flask from its owner with a smile. She sips from it
and swallows letting out a quick breath. She nods and hands it back to him,
"Thanks M'rek. I needed that." She lets her eyes scan the room coming to
rest on each of the riders finally stopping at the greenrider. She leans
back against the wall once again and takes off her riding jacket letting it
fall to the floor.

Lysseth> A note in an octave below attempts to chime with that bugle of
challenge, though it is more toned with invitation, Sarevith's show of
gentlemanliness winging him slowly about in a large arc as his would-be
escort alters course far above, aiming to predict her erratic movements
should she decide to be his falling star.

Lysseth> Daikoth can dip, dodge, zig, zag. As much as if his name is
scrawled across the entire sky, streaks across it, carving out his own path
to prove that he can. He's remaining after her, perhaps not with excessive
ease, but he's yet to lose her path, maneuvers aside. The blue is driving
himself upward, forward, trying to gain on her, go past her, maybe cut her
path short.

Lysseth> Volath dips a wing, sending himself on an arc to keep out of
harm's - or Nepenth's - way. Unsettled long enough to slow his pace, he
wings onward, the shivers along his spine spreading through tail and into
oustretched sails as Lysseth's single note reckons the sky. He soars a
moment, relying on momentum while seeking an updraft on which to rest his
wings. As the dark-winged gem above turns, displaying her facets among the
jewels of the stars, he finds the air he's been seeking and arches his
neck, lowering his bloodied jaw to add his own softspoken murmur to the
music in a low, whispery croon.

M'rek accepts the flask back and then leans a little to look around the
room at the various states of in and out awareness, "Anyone else? It'll
take the hair off your head." Levity from the former messenger.

M'tri looks mildly perturbed. His lips are moving, forming words that he
doesn't speak aloud. A brief frown, then a smile and a nod conclude his
silent conversation and he turns to look at M'rek. He tousels his hair a
bit before saying, "I can afford to lose a few strands."

Lysseth> Lysseth continues this course as long as the blood-lent and
passion-lent strength of her wings will allow. Still... she cannot present
a challenge indefinitely without challenging her own stamina, and so does
not. She drops. Folding in glowing wings, she plummets indeed, fallen star,
lucky star... but that fall is brief, a feint only compared to what might
have been. Her wings snap out again to stop it just as she stopped so many
reckless dives in Threadfall; and as she rose back up to Thread, now she
rises back up to heavens with her tail lashing a gleaming, laughing taunt.
So you would follow her! Well then; follow her *up*, now, if you can and if
you trust that she won't taunt you a second time.

Lanisa lets the conversations in the room go around her as she does her
keep up her I'm not really here act. Course, something breaks through. The
offer of the drink, or hearing Trii accept it. She shifts her gaze away
from Kassima long enough to glance at the others, then the flask, then
hoarsely find her voice, "Yeah, alright."

As Lysseth falls, Kassima falls, though hers is less physical and more a
fall from... well, one can't quite call the melding of her mind and her
dragon's grace. Anyway, it's likely destined to be brief. Her eyes blink
once, twice, and she mutters, "I *like* m'hair." Aware now of the presence
of *them*, she takes on a wary look and backs one pace up until her bare
shoulders brush the wall's cold stone.

T'bay gulps hard, his eyes going from the shining metal of the knife to the
bright invitation of the flask to the woman behind the knife against the
wall, indecision in his eyes for the moment that they are clear. Then, he
gives in to the connection with his lifemate, eyes blurring for a moment
before refocusing. "I don't think it would stay down. Then I'd be hungry
and bald," is murmured softly, a grin, or is it a wince? trying to break
through.

Lysseth> Ulfianth rumbles in a thunderclap of warning as he pursues the
dusky green in earnest. He's on the hunt now, and he plays as the house
plays, winning no matter what the outcome. In the very least he'll have the
practice of following that tricking fine tail. Elegant onyx claws flash in
the starlight as if rending cloud-cover would help in the wearing down of
this clever minx.

Kaelyn leans forward as she sees Kassima falls, but settles back against
the wall still knowing she has a knife. She begins to breathe a little
harder as her blue is climbing and whisper encouragement to him.

V'lano grins crookedly at the flask and its owner, but shakes his head in
the negative. His attention's distracted by Kassima's remark, and as much
as she came out of her trance he slips back into his - and takes a step
away from the wall, clearing space between his shoulders and the stone. The
smile fades, mouth pulled tight, lips rolling in between pressed teeth.

M'rek tilts the capped flask M'tri's way then, "Good for you, lad. You'll
need your strength for that harem of yours." What should be easy laughter
has a note of strain to it and his voice has slipped to something darker
and almost cultured. "Rider Lani, you have some as well." And he stops
himself there and falls quiet until he hears Kassi's voice and then his
eyes are all for her, "What about you, Kassi-darling?" coaxingly in tone.
"Fancy anything?"

Lysseth> Nepenth pushes forward quickly as he sees the green plummet to
Pern, but pulls up as she teases them. His tail flickers as he sings
sweetly to her, inviting her to him for comfort and release. See I am
strong enough. Just as strong as those bigger and much slower dragons. He
lets the wind fill his strong wings and surges upward to meet the
challenge. I will reach the stars with you Lysseth if you let me.

Lysseth> Tisiath watches the fall, and races ahead, hoping to get there in
time to cross her path, and failing miserably at that. But an advantage is
gained in the maneuver. He's above now, until she rises again, even if he
did dip after for a spell, it does at least bring him back in closer in his
pursuit. Still behind, but not so much so as before. Not that he doesn't
respond to the taunt with a bugle, he's not above that as he races again,
up and up!

Lysseth> Volath's croon dies off as the green plummets. His reflexes aren't
powerful enough, trained enough, tight enough to send him racing after her
- but he flicks his head down and wings forward once the realization of her
'plight has sunk in. He sends off from his updraft with briefly refreshed
power, and when Lysseth's gambit is revealed, he turns his muscles to
craning upward into a backtilt, beating furiously to fall upward after the
rising dream.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Volath admires, frankly, with a star-dazed
dappling of light that reveals his naivete as much as it reflects the
garish, dazzling night: << That was clever! >>

Lysseth> The rain-dampened sand of Sarevith's hide provides his existence
some camoflauge, though his soft song from the darkening abyss beneath
leaves no question that another, desirous, courting with pretty words and
moonlight promises and oh-so-sincere, is waiting below. As she sinks, he
rises, finding a thermal as a vantage to spare strains of the much-needed
effort to close some of the gap, a dark planetary mass moving toward the
star-straining luminescent green.

Lysseth> Daikoth loses an amount of his momentum as he angles, because
she's falling, and what will she do without him there to catch her? But her
taunt is not wasted on him, and he works again to gain what he's lost,
powering for it, working as hard as before, not for height but to keep a
parallel path with her, to slowly lose altitude and not nosedive.

Lysseth> Volath senses that Lysseth's mind is a thing of smoke and fire
now, of jagged crystal shards and starlight that cuts in its shining.
Doubtless she would appreciate such appreciation in any normal
circumstance, but now--now she sends a spear of darker satisfaction, and
wild, discordant laughter.

Lysseth> Lysseth's pursuit of things celestial becomes slightly less easy
when she rises from that drop. Not less graceful, no--all the grace she
never bothers with when her mind is clear becomes her firm possession on
such nights as this, and there's a frank sensuality to be glimpsed in the
stroke of wing, arch of neck, twist of tail. More than one kind of fire
burns in the heart of this particular jewel. But no fire burns forever
without consuming fuel, and now the star-course is an effort to follow; yet
follow it she must, churning wings transforming clouds to tatters. The edge
of desperation is beginning to make itself known, and as surely as knights
might flee an airborn wooden rabbit, so now she flees them all.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets the obligatory Monty Python and the
Holy Grail reference in. No Lyss-flight can be without one or two. ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Nepenth laughs

Dragon> Flight sense that Daikoth giggles, because I really had to double
take.

Kassima presses the more firmly back against that wall, glaring daggers at
M'rek. "I'm nay your--I'm nay *any* of your--" Words fail; she shakes her
head only, and hisses, "Only all of you *gone*. Let us fly!"

Kaelyn runs her fingers through her hair as she hears Kassima's words. Her
eyes become cloudy as she flies with her beloved blue. She urges him on as
he begins to tire. As her mouth becomes dry she licks her lips as green
eyes rest on the rider.

Lysseth> Ulfianth has no group of minstrels to follow his course (or to eat
during winter), but he bravely runs away, only to turn wide and swerve back
in at a higher angle, tail lashing and wings open their full measure at
last to make his strength and power all the more enticing. Green draws
bronze inwards and onwards, a merry chase indeed.

M'tri accepts the flask with a nod and a transitory chuckle of his own,
uncapping it and unhesitatingly gulp down a mouthful. His reaction is
simple: a snort through the nose, a hiss of air through his teeth, and
finally he drops his shoulders from thier erect position to the wall,
letting it help to hold him up. Recapping it, he has only enough time to
pass it to Lani, quirk a brief smile, and then shake his head, retreating
back into his dragon's mind, now. "Watch..."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth is having a wonderful time, by the way.
Y'all are absolutely amazing. :) I don't want this to go on too long for
anybody, though (I'd be happy to fly all night with such spiffy chasers,
but I know some people have those pesky 'life' things ;)--what think you
all, catch poses after Lysseth's next?

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << Sounds good to me >>

Dragon> Daikoth bespoke Flight with << Yeah, pesky life. Don't know how I
got stuck with it. Sounds swell for me. :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Ulfianth cools, dig it. :) Good flight!

Dragon> Volath bespoke Flight with << Sure. :) >>

Lysseth> Nepenth turns on his side as he pushes past two slower dragons.
The beautiful Lysseth, his glowing gem, is finally becoming tired. He
stretches his neck out and croons to her offering her rest in his strong
wings. His muscles twitch under his blue hide as he slices through the cold
starry night. Nepenth catches a thermal under the green, closing the
distance between him and her.

Lysseth> One charcoal-shaded set of moonlight and flightlight-glittering
wings is sought by a set of deeper brown lined with tendrils of ice-blue:
Sarevith, beneath, has conserved his energy for just such a moment as this,
his large barrel-chest heaving with shallow breaths. He knows clearly what
is his quest, and he'd quickly answer green for his favorite color, his
tail taut as he arrows at a diagonal to make up the remaining distance he
lacked.

Lysseth> Tisiath chases the jewel, the darkened emerald in it's setting of
the night. And he might not be a knight in armor, but he's the color of
night and chasing amour -- What could be more noble a cause than that? His
own wings beats might have slowed if he had the sense to let things go and
not dig deeper to keep up the pace. He's too stocky for proper grace such
as she displays, but he he will still make the effort to do her persuit
justice with his style.

T'bay leans to one side, then to the other, as if he were reenacting the
motions of a dragon's efforts from wing to wing against some winds and with
others. "Find, find," he murmurs, eyes lost to reason. One whom he jostles
returns the favor, and the boy just about croons at him with a low voiced
sound, his grasp of the line between human and dragon very fine indeed.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << You all rock my world. :) If you
*don't* want to win, by the way, this is a good time to page Kassi to let
me know. >>

Lysseth> For no apparent reason whatsoever, Volath speaks, sending a sudden
trumpet's call out into the sky, a single low note of - epiphany? But on
that note he slows, curling silken wings to capture the drift of a mild
cold front's breath. The treasure glinting in the sky above, so close and
yet so far out of reach with potential captors racing after, bears a
moment's careful consideration through whirling eyes of amethyst. The young
bronze's chest heaves as slow wingbeats allow him a moment's rest, a
heartbeat's thought, and a lifetime's decision. He springs out of his
captured wind and hurtles after, stretching wings as yet untried forward,
preparing them for this last effort at catching up.

V'lano lifts his hands to his cheeks, each thumb dragging along them
downward toward his chin, lengthening his face and lowering his jaw. The
joints click softly as his mouth moves, and his eyes shut tight. Without
the wall to ground him, he half-paces left, then right, shifting weight
from foot to foot. Suddenly, a bemused smirk warming his lips, he muses
softly, "Sticking with it, are we?"

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Wow, I'm glad /I/ don't have to choose between
you lot. You're all awesome."

M'rek would laugh, really he would, but Ulfianth is ascendant now and he's
not quite himself, as proven by the glowering look and the fact that he
loses track of where the flask has gone and then the murmur that escapes
him is pure greed, "Green. Mine, all mine. None of the rest of them effect
us."

Telgar Weyr> Emilly nodnods. "That's some -seriously- beautiful posing
going on.

Telgar Weyr> Yselle lines up to have them chase in her next flight too. Whee.

Telgar Weyr> M'tri hopes your not as evil as knife-wielding proddy Kassi.

Telgar Weyr> Yselle is um... very different proddy to Kassi. Oh yes.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Ys is flirtatious-proddy instead of
kill-kill-kill proddy. Whether that's better or worse I leave up to you. ;)"

Lysseth> Daikoth heaves everything he has into this. She's not the only one
growing tired, but he is not planning on giving anything up. Putting on
random bursts of speed, unsure where they're coming from but thanking the
stars, the glittering things his prize is shaming, that he's getting them,
Daikoth is gaining back what he lost, wing-beat by embracing wingbeat. He
can spread his wings no farther, can stretch no longer, can croon no
sweeter than he is now.

Telgar Weyr> V'lano waits to see if, should it be a guy whose dragon wins
this round, he has a higher singing voice tomorrow. :>

Telgar Weyr> M'tri blanches.

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa hides Trii!

Telgar Weyr> M'tri says, "Everyone's threatening knees around me. Why?"

Telgar Weyr> Emilly has OCD when proddy. Cleans all the cutlery twice
before using it.

Lanisa had almost forgotten the flask when it's passed to her. She glances
at M'tri as she accepts it, uncaps, and drinks with out really giving it
thought. Big mistake. Huge mistake, for she coughing a moment later.
"Shards.. That's..." She doesn't say what. Just recaps it and silently
offers it back as her eyes stray again to Kassima.

Telgar Weyr> Yselle heys. I'm not that scary. I'm really /nice/ when I'm
proddy.

Telgar Weyr> T'bay says, "Ut oh. :)"

Telgar Weyr> Emilly is just obsessive and absent minded.

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa says, "Which is scary on a whole other level. o.O Trust
me. ;) ( Ys, that is ;)"

Kaelyn stares at Kassima and takes in her beauty as well as seeing the
beauty of her dragon. She allows her body to finally use the wall for
support and slides down to the floor. She closes her eyes for a long time
as she 'flies' with her Nepenth. When she looks back up her eyes are filled
with dragon lust and locks onto the greenrider until the outcome of the
flight.

Telgar Weyr> Yselle bats eyelashes at Lanisa. I know you want the
Ys-flirting. :0

Lysseth> Lysseth falls into the embrace of a thermal again, flaring out
wings to let the air bell them and reduce the strain on her much-taxed
resources. What was brilliant when her quest began has dimmed; she shines
still, but the glow is a close-wrapped garment indeed rather than any
flagrant and blazing cloak. They are so close now that the sound of their
wingbeats breaks through to her, to say nothing of the clearer notes that
croons and trumpets provide--not a knight has faltered, and she has held
little in reserve to hold them at bay in the end. But while the ichor yet
runs hot through her veins, she'll still *strive*; though she may never
know the Dark Tower of freedom, she will continue to hunt it, and perhaps
whatever she does find will be made sweeter by this journey.

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa will have to run now, wont I? I forgot. I'm no longer
safe from proddy Ys.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Catch poses now! And once again, I
love you all. Would have all of you win if it wouldn't give Anne McCaffrey
cardiac arrest. ;) >>

Dragon> Volath bespoke Flight with << Hm. You said that's a reason -not- to
do it? ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Nepenth falls on the floor laughing. We can call
it alternate Pern. Maybe Anne won't mind then :)

Dragon> Sarevith bespoke Flight with << Not to mention Lysseth keeping up,
aie! :) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth did say she could fly all night, didn't
she? 0:)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Yep, and nope. Funny if Ys flirts simultaneously
with you and Is."

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << Great poses everyone. They were
awesome. >>

Telgar Weyr> Emilly spultters drink on keyboard at imagery.

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << Would try to fit in a quote from the
"Princess Bride" but would probably mess it up. Will save it for the next
flight :P >>

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa points to her reply in flight class as to W2's. 'run
away! run away!' ;) *snugs* :)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle sniffle.

Telgar Weyr> Lanisa patpats :)

Kassima can't really get any further away from them than she is now; she's
already backed up entirely to that wall, hands splayed against it, with the
knife trapped between the stone surface and her right. Desperation and
defiance chase each other across her expression. Through her eyes. "Don't
tire," she whispers. Never mind that it's too late. "Don't tire, won't
tire, never, nay, never...."

Lysseth> Ulfianth rumbles once more into the night air, the sound itself
just meant to reassure the tiring Lysseth that he's still full enough of
vim to see her roused once more and then finished with strength. Spreading
his wings out forces the dragon next to him to yield territory or jostle
for it, and the other beast chooses to try and slip in lower, around the
bronze. Summered neck and tail arc then and an imperious demand is made for
the faltering green to join His embrace.

Lysseth> Nepenth senses that Lysseth's journey has pushed her to her limits
as the others start to draw closer to her. He stays below her as he feels
the wingbeats of a brown and bronze surge forward for their last effort.
His tenor voice croons once again to the tiring green as her body glows
against the glittering of stars in the Pernese sky. His tail swishes trying
to give Nepenth enough lift as his wings fill once more. He opens them wide
as he comes up near Lysseth under her right wing. Come and enjoy his warm
and comforting embrace he croons as he stretches his neck closer to her.

Lysseth> Daikoth forces his last. The last burst, last forced widening of
his wings is very likely influenced by the fact that his competetors are so
close. They are of no concern. She is close, close enough to be his. And
his croon, saccharine sweet, invites her to him. To finish her dance with
him. Directly contradicting, he reaches, banks around, prepared to snatch
her as his own if only she makes the mistake of getting close enough.

T'bay's knees waver, quiver, and shiver as the young man strives to remain
upright. His shoulder muscles shake, an echo of Sarevith's, and when he
blinks, it is an echo of eyes seeing green-enhanced starlight alternating
with the sight of the knife weilding rider and all those gathered beside her.

Lysseth> Sarevith weaves with a bank of one wing, a stretch of another,
aiming despite the shivering muscles across his upper chest speaking of
exaustion--his aim is to glide through the throng as they gather near the
tiring beauty. His love song turns to a more vocal though still aurally
pleasant ballad of courtship, a gallant offer to be her escort, his tail
wending upward in a solemn though driven invitation to dance the night time
starlit waltz with him.

Lysseth> Volath continues his straight and steady course, mouth parted to
let his tongue taste the night. It makes him look a little as though he's
smiling - or would, to human eyes, were they here so high to see it. He
strokes the sky with wings thrown wide, sailing free between each
thunderous beat, until he catches up among those sent on ahead during his
moment of introspection. A sparing rumble, soft as the whisper of furs
against an ear turned in sleep, suffices as callout to the glorious green.
He jostles with the lesser wings of a fast-moving blue for a position just
below and aside from Lysseth - not pole position, certainly, a less than
prime spot of real estate - but the suddenly-fledged bronze makes of it the
best he can, arching his back and flickering his wings, flailing tail to
try to spear her attention, to distract her long enough - just long enough!

V'lano stares, mute amazement frozen on his face in the spot it last
occupied, when moments ago the young rider was himself. He's his dragon
now, instead, and though his mouth, brows, and cheeks remain stretched in
the expression of surprise, his eyes stick plainly on one thing: Kassima's
knifeless hand against the wall.

Lysseth> Tisiath looks to the glowing beacon as one would look to the
sunset and appreciate the hues it changes the sky. More brilliant as it
calls for rest then than it was in the midst of day, in it's own way. And
as he closes, with neck and tail outstretched, least he get the opportunity
to carry her on, such colors are echoed across his own form. A hope that a
dance in the night might not end so soon, resonates in his croon.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth okays and sets to work on the catch pose.
:) Once again, I'd like to thank you all so much; you made this flight a
joy, and I definitely want to do this again before another two years pass.
;) Any time any of you want to chase, I'd be honored. :)

Dragon> Nepenth bespoke Flight with << Thanks for the great flight Kassi >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Tisiath thanks you for having it. It was most
excellent fun :)

Dragon> Ulfianth bespoke Flight with << Thanks muchly Kassi, was great fun! >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Daikoth dittos that.

Dragon> Sarevith bespoke Flight with << Thank you for inviting us all,
Kassi, and for leading us, as well as to all of the great chasers this
evening, too. :) >>

Telgar Weyr> J'len reads back on channel and makes a note to avoid 'helping
Ys with furniture moving' if she starts being 'overly nice' to people :)

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "When she's proddy, you'll know. :)"

Lysseth> Lysseth has drawn the journey out as long as she possibly could;
sought the star-strewn sky for her mantle, and been denied again as destiny
demands. Now her cards have all been played, and the dance--*that* dance,
the dance danced alone--has seen its last measure. She has only energy
enough to try and throw herself away from this male and that, nothing if
not defiant 'til the end, before waterfall-marked wings snare her own and
Volath is probably given something to smile about indeed. It was, after
all, long enough.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << There we go! You're all very
welcome, and very thanked. It's been a pleasure. :) >>

Dragon> Volath bespoke Flight with << Thank you for holding it! Great rp.
:) >>

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Ys was not whistling the quaint regional melody
about that being a hard flight to choose from. :) Lovely show, y'all; so
honored. :)"

Dragon> Flight sense that Daikoth congrats V'lano and runs away before her
computer is confiscated!

Lysseth> Daikoth flies downwards towards the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> J'len says, "So who... ah... Volath."

Dragon> Dianneth bespoke Flight with << Congratulations, V'lano. :) >>

M'rek reaches back and finds his flask on the floor. It's scooped up and
then he's gaining his feet, shaking his head and muttering under his
breath, "I told you you'd have to watch. Don't you take that...no. No. No.
Yes. Well, no." and he's heading out.

M'rek leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Lysseth> Ulfianth flies downwards towards the bowl.

Southern Bowl> Ulfianth lumbers here from the north.

Dragon> Flight sense that Sarevith grins, woowoos. Again, thanks to all,
and congrats to Vel. And to Kassi, of course. Snicker. :D

Lanisa turns on her heal and slides out the door, quiet as can be now.

Lanisa leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Kassima can evidently look surprised too, and does, in that brief moment of
lucidity before she lets the knife fall to the ground with a steely ring
that she likely doesn't hear: unnecessary, after all.

Kaelyn leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Southern Bowl> Kaelyn stumbles out of the weyr down into the bowl. She
looks up and waits for Nepenth to come down to her.

Southern Bowl> Yselle walks here from the north.

Southern Bowl> Emilly walks here from the north.

T'bay's glazed eyes slowly return focus on the room the group so recently
shared, warm from the heat of bodies and still flushed from the relayed
chase and the close quarters, then he turns, and follows the departing out
of the weyr as the flight's success, by another, is relayed. Still blinking
amazement at the entirety of the experience, he departs.

Lysseth> Tisiath flies towards the south end of the bowl.

Lysseth> Nepenth flies downwards towards the bowl.

Southern Bowl> Tisiath backwings for a landing.

Southern Bowl> Nepenth lumbers here from the north.

Southern Bowl> Kaelyn looks over as Yselle and Emilly come into the area.
She rubs her hands over her eyes and then through her hair as she sees her
blue land. He creels at her very disappointed to have been so close yet again.

Southern Bowl> Yselle has her hands shoved in her pockets, as she meanders
through the bowl, watching the males descend. Her eyebrows quirk in the
direction of the exiting riders.

Lysseth> Brown Sarevith has missed his mark, the last bit of effort not
quite enough to pull him close enough when she dips back. His night-time
melody continues to be sung solo, providing a soothing yet mournful jazz
croon for the coupled pair; with this, he leaves them in peace.

Southern Bowl> Lanisa's path is markedly straight for Tisiath as the blue
wings down to settle, sullen on the bowl floor. Her murmur starting up
before she even lays a hand on him, "You were brilliant, Tisi. Really you
were. It's alright."

Lysseth> Sarevith flies downwards to the lake shore.

T'bay leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Southern Bowl> M'rek goes to Ulfianth and spends several minutes fussing
with his straps, murmuring to the dragon in a tone of voice that's reserved
for furious Lords, losing dragons and proddy greenriders - not necessarily
in that order. He looks tired around the eyes, stressed, as he soothes the
dragon and listens to whatever internal litany he's beening fed about why
the loss came about and how next time will be different. "Yes. Yes. I know.
You're so right. Are you sure you don't want a scritch?"

Surprised has evolved into shock. Only half released from his tension and
not released at all from the grasp of his dragon's mind, the few steps
across the small room to a spot just outside of what would normally be
Kassima's personal space, and well inside the boundary of what would have
moments ago been considered 'stab central' drain V'lano of much energy. He
trembles there, but forces up his chin to face her, the knife now forgotten.

Southern Bowl> Sarevith lumbers here from the north.

Southern Bowl> Emilly drifts across the Bowl as dragons descend from above,
hands stuck inside jacket pockets in unconscious imitation of Yselle. "Heya
Ys ... think we should haul some of 'em off to Ista for drinks?" she says
with a hint of humor.

Southern Bowl> Kaelyn steps over to her blue and wraps her arms around his
head the best she can. She nods and scritches him, "Yes it was wonderful
Nepenth. You were so close." She leans into him with very tired eyes.

Southern Bowl> "Think they'd get that far?" Yselle asks Emilly, eyeing
them. She's got a fair amount of sympathy for them in her gaze. "Maybe the
living caverns. If they don't get other ideas first."

Lysseth> Volath would have bugled, had there been the right opportunity -
but as soon as he knew his achievement, that prize was his to deal with.
His breath heated, his wings strained and shaking, instinct and Lysseth's
delightful grace are all that can save him from himself. He offers his neck
to twine with hers and sails, falling, afloat in their shared descent from
the stars.

Kassima manages to push away from that wall with an unsteady hand, closing
the rest of the distance; the least she can do, perhaps, all things
considered. No knives exist in her world at the moment. Not anymore. "I
don't actually bite, y'know," a last trace of coherence--and whimsy--bid
her promise him.