Ista Weyr - Living Caverns
Lydiere's got one hand clasped at her head, as she wobbles into the living caverns, clasping at the light switch on the wall to turn them off, sending the room into half darkness - at least it's the middle of the afternoon, and there's light coming in from outside. Her next step is to aim for the serving tables, where she somewhat blindly grabs a napkin and dumps it in a pitcher of water, clutching it across her face.
Ez'ial goes over to Lydiere quietly, his voice a little hoarse as he asks, "you going to be ok, Lydiere.. is there anything I can get you?" He gets a glass, "maybe some water or wine?" He tries to keep his voice low having seen this version of migraine before.
Llysereth> Zymanth glides down and backwings to land nearby.
Llysereth> W'yn takes hold of the straps to leaver himself over to one side, then with arms in the air he slides down the front quaters to land with a 'thud' on the ground, tumbling a step forward before he is steady on his feet.
Lydiere doesn't shake her head, though beneath the napkin, she smiles. "I'll be fine," she promises, blindly reaching out for a chair, the nearest chair possible, and yanking it out from the table. "She's asleep. It's not so bad, for the moment."
W'yn strides in from the southeast bowl.
Ez'ial nods and smiles, "ok.. just let me know if you need something" He fidgets for a moment, worried for his friend, but not wanting to bother her either. He goes over to the side table and pours himself a glass of wine. He looks around and settles at a table somewhere. Sipping his drink and not really saying much.
W'yn enters with a yawn and a strech. He had been sleeping most peacfully until something had woken him. A frown apears upon his face as he tries to remember what it had been exactly. Looking round he heads straight for the hearth but not before calling greetings to Ez'ial and Lydiere.
"Thank you," says Lydiere, in a low voice, "I do appreciate that." Her head doesn't turn, though another smile is evident, the edges of her lips creeping up past the edges of the wet napkin on her face, as W'yn's greeting reaches her ears: "W'yn!"
Ez'ial nods to W'yn and smiles. He settles a book on the table and tries to start reading. He does more page turning really than reading, but it gives him something to do. He sips a little more wine nodding to Lydiere then turning back to his book.
[Dragon/Ista] Llysereth sleeps - dreams of terror and delight mingling in against each other, wisps ever trailing out of her mind, and to the minds of those around her. It's coming - she rouses, just slightly, thoughts turning towards one thing: flight. Perhaps now would be the time to blood.
Llysereth> Petryth strides northwest across the bowl.
W'yn wanders towards where the two are sitting, though rather imbetween the two. "I hope thats nothing rude.." he teases ligthly with a broad smile to Ez'ial. About to say something of an apology for his joke he gets sidetracked by his name being called. "Lydiere! How are you, if your shouting my name like that with a head ache I will not be able to forgive myself.." he adds, finally raching the hearth.
[Dragon/Ista] Petryth gives a brassy bugle across the weyr and descends on the feeding grounds and audible crack sounding as he lands on the back of a herdbeast. His head dipping with a hiss before he begins to drain the downed animal.
[Dragon/Ista] Zymanth keeps still upon his landing in the bowl. What had woken his rider was his sence of the forthcoming. His own body taught with tension as Llysereth wakes. His eyes whirling as he turns them towards Petryth. The perfect feline weighing up the situation. without a backwards galce he turns to blood.
"She's asleep," explains Lydiere again, her voice going back to it's previous low tone. "So it's not quite so ba-ad." Her voice quavers slightly, for a moment. "Or not," she mutters. Liftine one edge of the napkin from her eyes, she peeks at Ez'ial, then giggles. "What are you reading, then?"
Ez'ial looks up slightly startled gazing towards the door. He murmurs softly, "no way…" then looks at Lydiere and W'yn to see what their reaction to these developments. He takes a sip of wine and mumbles, "uh.. dragonhealing textbook.. hard to concentrate though.." He waves his hand, best to ignore this, it'll all go away.
Llysereth> Zymanth hovers above the feeding pens. His muzzle swaying this way and that. His body taught as he knows how much this means. His hover is perfect, his dive is magnificent but his grasp on the beast is wrong. For a time the two seem to grapple on the ground, hoves and wings, claws and tail all mergin with the sounds to match. finally the bronze finds the strength to pull them away from the ground and he takes his catch to the side. The bronze wraps his tongue about the neck of the beast and drinks. Not devouring, but drinking.
Llysereth> Petryth finishes draining the buck held visciously between his talons and raises a bloody maw to bugle a challenge to anyone within hearing distance. With that a second buck is descended upon and with a twist of the poor creatures head and a sharp snap of it's neck his head lowers to it's neck drinking, though his gaze constantly moves towards the direction of the sleeping gold across the weyr.
W'yn 's reaction is caught just after Lydieres stumble in words. "Thats.." he does not finish the sentence. His eyes seem to waver in focus and he grabs for a chair. His own face wincing as he feels his dragons embarrasment. Shaking his head slightly he grins and the giggle and turns to Ez'ial and smiles. "Fact or fiction?" he asks curiously.
Lydiere blinks, drawing the napkin from her face. "That's - Oh, fardles," she murmurs, rubbing at her temples and shaking her head. "Oh, fardles, and she's off." She turns her head awy, squeezing the moisture from her napkin into her lap, as if she's not even noticing that she's doing so.
Ez'ial arches an eyebrow, "fact.. no good fiction in textbooks" He glances at Lydiere and swallows then turns purposely to fix his gaze on W'yn. If he pretends this is a normal conversation, it will be, he's sure of that. Nothing usual just studying.. uh… something. He flips pages trying to remember what that was, though his eyes unfocus and he pauses distracted.
Llysereth> Llysereth wakes from her slumber, and her cry can be heard all over the weyr - to the dragons, at least. The feeding grounds are dived upon, hide nearly pure gold by the intensity of the glow within it. A challenge is bugled to those who dare to chase, as she grasps at a young buck, killing it with a single stroke, then letting the body fall so that she can dive upon this as well, and ea - all right, all right, drink - the fiery blood.
W'yn smiles lightly to Ez'ial as he begins to try and think of something, something like advice or something. Nothing comes to mind except the feeling of drinking the warm blood, of the liquid sliding down the throat and into the belly. he goes to speak but coughs. Gaining control W'yn turns and smiles. "Your right there, best for the imagination.." he chuckles before his face falls and he turns quickly to Lydiere. "think, its the end of one sectio.." he does not finish it as Zymanths grows in amouraty and his rider begins to get sucked in.
Lydiere's not listening to W'yn's words, nor to Ez'ial's; she rises from her seat, blindly stumbling away from the pair, and from the others that have begun to approach, as other browns and bronzes take to the feeding grounds. "Blood," she murmurs, beneath her breath, and then more loudly: "Blood!"
Llysereth> Zymanth stops drinking to hum at the sight of Llysereth, glistening gold, dive upon a buck. His muzzle almost clean except for the tip, not a drop spilt. His wings open in a shimmer of display and he finally bends his maw down to drain the last of the blood from the body he holds.
Llysereth> Petryth sends a brassy BUGLE across the weyr, challenging the browns and bronzes around him, he will have her! not them! He snakes his head towards the glowing queen with a deep croon, beautiful in her glory he seeks to placate her though his eyes flash at the other males nearby. His own muzzle messy though his tongue licks out across the bronze hide to lick up each drop. His body begins to tense and he eyes the queen, another buck or will she rise, which shall he spring after this time?
W'yn has done many flights in his years, nearly all green, yet the intensity of the emotions rolling into his mind and body make him sway on the spot. "A good Bo.." the thought of books is driven from his mind. His eyes only see the shimering gold hide which his dragon sees. Shaking his head to bring him back he tries to stay focused, only long enough to stumble a few paces behind Lydiere. His eyes glace to Ez'ial with a frown but soon they are sweeping around the cavern, like dragon assessing who is walking in.
Llysereth> Llysereth heeds the call of her lifemate, and blood it is, though not happily done - she snarls, and her voice echoes off of the walls of the bowl, raised high and loud. Another buck she kills in one fell swoop, metallic sanguine dripping down her maw and muzzle, adding a sharp difference in hue to the blooming gold of her hide. She tenses, ready - almost - for flight.
Ez'ial looks at Lydiere and closes the book. His body showing a tension that echoes that of his dragon. Lydiere, glowing.. no.. not Lydiere.. Llysereth. He shakes his head a little and takes a sip of wine. Beautiful queen.. dark raven hair.. they are hard to seperate in his mind now. He shifts and starts to stand but then doesn't. He takes a deep breath, shivering as Petryth's bugle echoes off weyr walls. He finally stands and walks towards Lydiere. He pauses near to her, she'll fly.. no.. Llysereth will fly soon.
Lydiere hardly seems to have registered that there are others there; she breaks into a run, as if to flee to Llysereth, though her immediate direction is for the bowl, hair falling from its day-old binding about her shoulders, napkin still clutched tightly within one hand, not to be let go of.
Llysereth> Zymanth hears the bulge and echoes his own tenor purr in discordant harmony. His wings snapping to his side for a moment before slowly opening to display the sandstorm wingsails. He does not blood again, he knows his weaknesses and the bunk he had caught was large. He makes no sound to the others gathering, he notes a few, looking at them longer. The feline once again assessing, his stance that of the watcher, turning his orange whirling eyes slowly about the ground. Stopping upon Llysereth finally his purr becomes a deep hum, his hest seeming to reverbarate with the sound deep within.
Llysereth> Petryth shifts closer towards the glowing queen, his eyes bright as her body tenses as well. He gathers himself wings flexed outwards ready for the downstroke that must take him quickly after her. A low hiss warning the dragons around him then a sweet soothing croon only for her. His eyes focused and body ready, youthful strength ready to take flight.
Llysereth> You spread your mighty wings and leap into the air, surging upwards.
Ez'ial doesn't think but follows Lydiere, his expressions echoing the mix of human and dragon emotion consuming him. But he can't resist the urge to follow Lydiere as his dragon waits to chase Llysereth. He will not be left behind, just as Petryth will not. His mind mingling with his dragons so much that he has increasing trouble making a distinction between himself and Petryth.
Llysereth> Petryth surges up from below, wings beating.
W'yn wants to look at Lydiere, not Llysereth. His own battle to see what he wants going on behind his mind, shows only in the waving of his fist at his side. streching his fingers they go to his collar as he looses the tighness he feels. Movement before his own eyes catches his mind and he begins to run after, as if the image could fade, but no, it grows as Llysereth sweeps into the air. he calls something but it is not really audable. Something about Jessamy and Lymera, dragons, weyr, greens.. as though for one final moment his own mind tries to kick in. It does not work for long and soon he is just emotions.
Llysereth> Zymanth surges up from below, wings beating.
Llysereth> Llysereth soars upwards, springing to the air with a youthful motion, her whole body poised and ready for fling. Wide wings greet the sky, gathering the winds and thermals as she gains speed. High above the world, she reaches, an autumnal sun, glowing in a brilliantly blue sky, seeking out the far reaches of the world before she will ever cease the upwards climb, the flight of freedom.
You exit the caverns, heading out into the bowl.
Ez'ial strides into the bowl from the Living Caverns.
Llysereth> Zymanth had been standing perfectly still, tensness rippling in hide legs and chest. His eyes catch the motion at the same time as he feels the emotions rise in himself. Leaping forward He stumbles. The buck not completely removed from his talons. His bulge of frustration more audable than anything before, the roar is pure frustration. Seeing to almost spin on the spot to right himself he soon leaps into the air to chase his mind, heart and bodys desire. He may be clumbsy but he is a master in the air. Slowly, with powerful sweeps he joins the flight.
W'yn strides into the bowl from the Living Caverns.
Lydiere's immediate aim might be for the feeding grounds, but Llysereth has gone up - and that leaves her confused and disorientated. She mumbles something incomprehensible, then turns, as if finally catching sight of all of those suitors. No - they're not right. They shouldn't be there. She yelps, yells something out loud that makes little sense, and then breaks into a run a gain, fleeing for the Ground Weyrs, and home.
You stride into the Ground Weyrs Cavern.
You ascend the staircase to your weyr.
Llysereth> Petryth springs upwards with coiled strength unleashed with one great downstroke of his wings. Every other dragon forgotten but the golden streak before him. Wingstroke after wingstroke he calls to the beautiful queen streaking across the sky above him. He must reach her, every ounce of his being consumed with the need to reach her, to capture her.
Llysereth> Twinkle, twinkle, little Llys - no, no little star is she, to simply hover in space. Llysereth is a comet, fleeing far and wide, her path somewhat erratic, but with a certain sameness to it nonetheless. She cries out against the chasing suitors, diving down towards the sea, as if in the hope that the winds will aid her, and restrict them. Lower, faster, stronger: wherever the wind blows, she'll go.
W'yn follows as Lydiere runs, his eyes not really following but he makes it, by sound and swimming immages. As he reaches the edge of the Weyr door he becomes somewhat tentative, and for a moment does not enter, as though trying to remain in some way human. It does not last for long and soon he is walking slowly into the Weyr. For a moment he trips, stumbles and falls, but what he fell over was not before him but happening above him, and now over the sea.
Llysereth> Zymanth sweeps, the sandstorm upon his wingsails shimmering with each motion. His chest rippling with the toned muscles within. His hide gleams with health, growing more tawny bronze as the flight grows in strength and speed. Seeing her dive below he does not, he stays upon a level, using what wind he has to glide parallel. His hum of appreciation hide above bulges from other suitors. His eyes fixated upon the fiery body.
Llysereth> Petryth has always has a talent for wildly acrobatic flight and it would seem that it stands him in good stead now. Twisting and turning he follows the queen's erratic path, trying to anticipate the turns she may take. His wings snap and shift as Llysereth dives towards the sea, familiar with this game, but now a radiant prize is the object. He's played this game with another gold, but no thoughts of her now, no shining fascination with the sea's waves sparkling in the sun. He glides above, swiftly watching her body waiting for another turn. His wily golden prize seeks to outwit him, but not this time, this time he'll win this game of 'tag'. His body flexing and straining to keep up, not ahead or directly above, but waiting for that chance, that angle that will give him advantage.
Llysereth> Perhaps the sea was not so good a choice, for Llysereth falters, and, in her panic, reaches up again. It is a slow path upwards, however, battling against the sea breezes that blow quite the wrong way for her desperate plight. Wily, yes, that is she - though perhaps not wily enough, in time. For now, however, it is an upwards spiral, and she, the sparkling diamond, regails the world in her colour, but refrains from allowing them close enough to touch.
Ez'ial follows Lydiere, stumbling slightly, his body tense. Struggling to make sense of Petryth's twisting path while he tries to walk a level one himself. He and Petryth are one and that raven haired golden prize will be theirs. He is barely able bring himself up, but there is something left of Ez'ial that will not reach roughly for Lydiere. He is there, though Petryth's emotions and drive may be strong.
EAW-HC> The assistant weyrlingmaster just gives Jalenye an odd look, and then steps forward, clearning his throat to get the attention of the candidate near the sugared autumns egg, who it seems was about to wrap his knuckles upon the hard shell in a manner not quite appropriate from his point of view. The candidate sighs and moves on to another, the assitant stepping back to his post.
Lydiere backs herself up against a wall, shutting her eyes from the image of some ten or fifteen men and woman filing in to her weyr. If she covers her eyes, they'll disappear - right? Evidently, as she pries open one eye, just slightly, this isn't working so well, and she turns away, backing as far away as she can from these intruders.
Llysereth> Zymanth watches as the sparkling diamond rises. He sees his level being reached and beings once more to sweep his wings in deep motions. His limbs clawing at the sky as if this would get him closer. Diamonds may be a girls best friend but they catch any mans eye just the same, the colour and radience to be awed at, and the spiral seems to inspire him to better ends. Wing tip upon wing tip turn sends him figure-of-eight pattern higher into the sky. He knows to reserve his strenght and uses what thermals he can find, the uplift always welcome. His purr growing in sound as he tries to reach what he wishes for.
Llysereth> Petryth sees his chance as the sparkling prize below falters in the wind, buffeted by the breezes that come off the sea. As she spirals upwards he waits until just the right moment, then angles his own flight to meet the golden queen, wings stretched to catch her diamantine luster, coming swiftly closer his deep baritone croon seeks to sooth the tempestuous queen. Then just a the right moment he strives for her, reaching as he angles towards her body, so close, so close!!! THERE!!! Every ounce of him hoping to make the catch straining for the glorious queen sparkling to outshine both sun and the sea.
W'yn wants to do as his dragon had done once before and protect, to curl about and keep Lydiere safe, as well as his. He steps to the side of the group as if he, like his dragon, could go about the chase and reach behind the end first. His jacket now completely undone, and a sweat building upon his brow making his hair stick at the edges. His hands reach out, but he stops himself, the control to lower them, but he cannot help but keep his eyes upon Lydiere. He has to see her.
Ez'ial licks his lips seeing Lydiere's distress, the lovely queen. She is.. no.. no this is his friend. He holds his hands back, but cannot seperate himself from the straining Petryth enough not to follow her movements. She is the prize he seeks.. no Llysereth, Llysereth is the prize that Petryth seeks. He must be gentle with his friend, he must remember /himself/.
Llysereth> Llysereth's shriek, as she's very nearly caught, reverberates throughout the bowl, her panic obvious in every frantic motion of her gleaming form. She dives again, just out of reach - though it's a close run, and now she's having to push through the pack of males, any of whom could have a chance to grasp her in time, though none of them do. Again, she soars, though not so fast, nor so furiously, now: she's tiring, bit by bit, and though desperate to remain out of reach, she's not so far off them again, far too close for her own comfort, far too easily within reach.
Llysereth> Zymanth saved something for the end, not as much as he would like as his stumble had cost him, yet that is forgotten now and only the goal fills his vision and mind. The name of the queen he chases rolling over and over in his mind. His tail whips out before him to steady his path. he had tried hard to entwine as Llysereth had swept though the group of males but now he must continue. A few succession of sweeps gets him back in line and the bronze continues his strokes. His wings beating with a rhymth slightly eratic in his attempt to push himself to the limits needed for such a hi speed chase.
Lydiere cannot back herself any further away, and thus clenches her fists, shutting her eyes with even more intensity as she flies with Llysereth, lost in her lifemate's mind, chasing the thrills that her lifemate chases. They'll never catch her, and she'll never give way - that much, surely, is certain.
Llysereth> Petryth gives voice his frustration as she eludes him. His wings snap wide then turn as he rolls over and towards the racing queen. Ignoring the pack of males she dives through, following quickly after, strong downstrokes of great bronze wings carrying him after her, the others will MOVE of be bowled over. Luckily for the brash bronze a few move as a few drop out. Eager youth restrained after that sharp lesson from the more seasoned queen. But he learns quickly, he sees her fading, his own youthful exerburance now being tested for the first time. His wild acrobatics coming in handy and the young bronze finding himself sorely tested by the beautiful queen before him. His pride as well as his desire for the sparkling gem soaring in the sky pushing him foward. Wind singing past him as he speeds towards her, making up the lost space only a deep rumble in his throat, at once challenging the males near and seeking to lull the queen before him. Every inch of his body intent on reaching her, she will not outwit him a second time!
Llysereth> All right, there's a problem here. Llysereth is tiring, her wingbeats drooping somewhat, but there are all these men, coming at her from all sides. She attempts, once more, to dive, but there's little space - they're crowding about her, some jostling and nudging at each other, pushing and shoving as they attempt to reach her. But dive she does, attempting to force her way through the pack - though Faranth knows that there's every chance she'll not be quite so lucky this time.
W'yn leans against a wall which he had been standing near. His strenght being depeleted as he gives it all to Zymanth. Each beat of his dragons wings is urged on by a mind linked as never before. W'yn seems to gasp a few times as if gulping more air into a straining lung. His eyes still open and upon Lydiere are not focused there anymore, but he is aware of the bodies pressing into him, and his arms seem to try to push them away them moving once more to his throat, trying to release the tightness of his clothes upon his soaked body. His legs tremble slightly under him but he holds his own place.
Ez'ial takes deep breathes, his hands clenched and forced to his side, he will not chase Llyser..Lydiere. He will n ot, though his body stays taught and he is drenched with the efforts of his dragon as if he were the one throwing every ounce of strength into making up lost ground and not Petryth. So hard to focus, so hard to keep himself from chasing her as the others do.
Llysereth> Zymanth 's own wings keep an eratic beat as he pushes himself to the limit. His bulky body heaving with each breth and beat of his mighty wings. Pushing dragons out of the way, with a twist and a turn
Llysereth> Zymanth 's own wings keep an eratic beat as he pushes himself to the limit. His bulky body heaving with each breth and beat of his mighty wings. Pushing dragons out of the way, with a twist and a turn - a dance. He watches as llysereth dives. His own tenor bulge rippling about the bowl as he knows this is his last chance. He has tried to catch before but if he does not now he will slip out of the pack. Neck extended as if to entwine he turns to try and intersept the dive, catching his queen before she plumets into anothers embrasse. Eyes whirling with orange, yellow and red now see no other dragons but the gold which fills his vision. He uses all his energy in this, knowing that he will either slip away or be revived like never before by the diving gold.
Llysereth> Petryth is only vaguely aware of the other bronze reaching for the queen. He trumpets a challenge and with a strong downstroke of wings throws all his strength into a twisting attempt at the glittering gold before him. Shifting and turning to slide beneath, neck, tail, talons extended to reach for her. His wings straining towards her, nothing will be left, but he much reach her now. There are other bronze wings reaching and he cannot lose her! Eyes whirling with determination and a deep baritone rumble trembles through him as he calls out to the beautiful gem so close to him! Aching with every ounce of his being to reach her, regal queen, stately queen, his rumble promising preserve her dignity if he can only reach out to her to protect her from this racuous flight chasing her.
W'yn gives all to Zymanth and his knees seem to give way for a moment and he slips down the wall he had been leaning against. His face red and his eyes glazed he sees nothing but what he must chase. He must not give in now. His mind so focused there is nothing of W'yn left. He is buried under Zymanths emotions and with this he does try and step forward towards Lydiere. One ha nd raising from his side but held off from his friend.
Llysereth> Llysereth's dive is caught out, an abrupt end to her flight of freedom. In screaming terror she falls, caught, captured, but in Petryth's embrace she finds pure delight, and as they fall, her cry changes from anger to purest joy. Zymanth - truest friend - is not forgotten in her fall, though it's a distant thing, lost as she loves.
"No!" cries Lydiere, as Llysereth is caught, her eyes finally snapping open, her gaze terrified. And then, within a single moment, a surprised, exhilerated - "Yes!" as she reaches for the young bronzerider, Llysereth's emotions taking over for her own pleasure.
Llysereth> Zymanth bulges his cry as he slips out of the way. His emotions tangled as he watches Petryth intwine with Llysereth. His own call back to her is weak but there, an echoe of what he hears from Llysereth. His mind boosted by such a call, as to not be forgotten in a flight, and with that he slips away to find his rider and solitude.
Llysereth> Petryth snaps out his wings to steady the lovely queen he finds in his embrace, shifting their flight towards the distant forest where their love can be cherished and her dignity preserved by the veil of forest mist. Crooning to her deeply and softly.
Ez'ial takes Lydiere in his arms, apology almost on his lips before the emotions of Llysereth and Petryth sweep him up and decide all for the evening. Raven hair and golden wings mingling in his mind as he becomes all tenderness for the sake of both.
W'yn gasps and seems to stumble to the ground as Zymanth calls his dissapointment. His eyes snap closed as the human side of him rushes back. He looks up as Lydiere reaches for Ez'ial. Something sorrowful slips across his face as with a trembling stance he tries to make himself scares. His own mind now reaching for Zymanth as he goes to find meet the bronze.