Ista Weyr - Records Room(#9397RJ)
Naturally rounded, this cavern extends deep into the volcano within which the weyr has been built. Bookshelves line the walls, right up to the cavernously high ceiling, spectacular in size and breadth, although it's nowhere near as large as either the living caverns or the hatching grounds, not to mention the weyrling barracks. Down either side of the room, runners have been put in place so that two tall, wooden ladders can be rolled around to get to the highest shelves.
Down the middle of the room is a huge, wide oak table - large enough to accommodate meetings between perhaps up to twenty people, and equally large enough for day to day business and work. Various books and hides are scattered about, some in the process of being recopied, and in one far corner, a computer terminal has been set up for a similar process of cataloguing. One of two large doors leads back into the Ground Weyrs, whilst a second winds around the bowels of the weyr, towards the Hatching Grounds. There have been a lot of new shelves added lately, the place is overflowing and the headwomen are doing their best to make this more useable. Hope you don't drop something behind the new shelves, it'd be a pain to squeeze back there to retrieve it.
Dragons> The late afternoon sun reflects off the golden hide of Ellamariseth, adding to the already present glow and making her out to be one big shiny beacon to all the male dragons of the Weyr. Not that she's paying attention to any of those that are gathering and that are genuinely interested, being dead asleep to the world and all. Or is she? She's not giving anything away, not even a twitching tail or eyelid. There's just the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. A ticking time bomb that no one knows when will be set off.
Unlike her lifemate, Ysa is holed up in the records room. Not her favorite place when she is proddy, judging by the fact that she's hunched in a chair and hiding among a big stack of record books. She likely doesn't actually need them, but it helps hide her from the rest of the world… somewhat. She could pretend that she is just another book among the many, even if there is some low mutterings under her breath. If anyone is listening closely it's something to do with Holders and meetings and having to be out in public and generally being completely in character for being a proddy Weyrwoman.
Dragons> Kinseth has been parked outside the infirmary for what must have been days, but even dragons have to eat some time. It's on the way to the feeding grounds this afternoon that his attention is diverted, eyeing up the glowing beacon that is Ellamariseth. WELL now! Here's a sight for starved eyes. The bronze slows to a crawl, ogling the sleeping gold. Occasionally he flicks glances back at the infirmary, guilty little looks, but Ellamariseth-ogling wins out every time. He knows his place, and that place is /not/ Weyrleader. If there's a chance to correct that, well, /he/ won't pass it up.
Dragons> Ittisieth is stretched out in the sunlight, dark coppered hide seeming to drink in the rays, rather than reflect them. It's impossible to tell how long he's been here - hours, days? - watching, keeping vigil, head held aloft just so, wings tucked behind his back in gentelmanly repose. Only on occasion does the feldspar tip of his tail flicker; eyes shifting to one color or another becomes further proof that the bronze hasn't become the statue he so resembles. He's merely biding. Waiting. Patient.
X'hil looks like he's just been running, he certainly does, all out of breath, panting like a canine. What's odd is that he's not at /all/ dressed for running, in that full pinstriped suit. He has jogging clothes, so why's he in that getup? On spotting Ysa, he heads in /that/ direction, straight off. "Ella- Kin- is-" GAAASP! Yes, breathe man, sheesh! "…" Nope. Speechless. Speechless and kind of bug-eyed. Well, that's useful. Honestly man, why the panic? She's not rising, she's sleeping!
Dragons> Raonardoth is lazing about on his ledge. He looks much like an overgrown teenager, a way over grown teenager, with both of his back legs and tail, and one foreleg dangling down the sides, and the other foreleg is tucked up under his head. How can that even be comfortable? Faranth knows, but he certainly seems content to just lay there. The glowing beauty of Ella is hard to miss, though, even in the bright sun shine. He's soon giving a stretch, and taking flight off his ledge, to land somewhere in the vicinity of the rest of the gathering males. He folds his wings neatly to his side, and sets his butt on the ground with a soft thump, hmm, was just a waiting game.
S'gam's likewise ensconced in the records room, but judging by the strategic positioning of scrolls and books between himself and the weyrwoman, he's here out of dire necessity and nothing else. The lone computer's keys clack much more loudly than the one in the dragon infirmary, and each letter he hits brings a wince. So. Loud. Going. To. Attract. Unwanted. Attention. The Dragonhealer's far from oblivious to the outside world - Ittisieth has perched outside the feeding grounds for days on end, hell-bent on bringing all of his plans to fruition - but maybe if Sig ignores it, all of this will go away. Twitch. Mutter. A flickering glare over the tomes at X'hil. "…sharding computer… technology always breaks… stupid dragons…" Mutter.
O'zi slips into the records room not too long after X'hil. Hard to tell why he's here, though it's likely looking for some records of some kind. It's got nothing to do with the gathering dragons at all. Nope. "What happened to it?" He asks, looking over at S'gam at his mutter. He hears the mutters of the hidden Weyrwoman as well. "Tell me about it." He mutters, and goes to check on some records. Those he's looking for have to be in here somewhere.
Dragons> What with the males gathering, that younger bronze-gold queen of the Weyr better be long gone. Ellamariseth might love to share and be engaging and nag Nziekilth for the company, but there are some things too engrained in her genetics to change. These are her bronzes. The ones she is totally ignoring. See that? That twitch? Ellamariseth is only /faking/ this sleeping bit this entire time. Finally she opens an eyelid slowly, the only movement out of her entire body except for the fact that it is whirling and whirling a dark red. She'll battle Ittisieth in a contest to see who makes the best statue. But Ella's never been patient. Watch her go from sleeping to blooding in two seconds flat. After the initial eye opening, there is a long pause and if any of the dragons blink they might miss how she suddenly bounds straight up in the skies, coming down heavily on a nervous herdbeast that was lingering in the center of the pens.
Dragons> Kinseth doesn't catch the movement of Ellamariseth, not at first, and he's left staring in bewilderment at the spot where there had just been a supposedly sleeping glowing dragon. It takes him a moment to relocate her, but when he does spot her, his eyes whirl vivid red. Blooding, hey? Exxxcellent. He leaps the feeding grounds fence rather narrowly, and flat out charges a plump looking beast, on foot. THUMP-A-STOMP-A-THUD! The beast doesn't even know what hit it, pinned under a foreleg within moments, Kinseth's lightning streaked muzzle bending to draw blood almost in the same movement.
Ysa has likely been pretending S'gam was just some annoying clacking firelizard that she can ignore. Yes, she was alone here, completely alone… So long as no one bothered her in her book-fort, Ysa was safe. And then X'hil has to go and ruin it. There's a loud startled squeak from behind the books and one tower suddenly goes crashing inwards upon herself, having been knocked over and yet leaning heavily in that direction. That's followed by some pained moans and ouches. "Ella. Kin. W-hy do you even look surprised?" She meekly peeks around one still standing bookstack, all wide eyed at the suddenly more crowded records room. "And where's T'eo? Aww… shardit."
Dragons> Raonardoth is watching her, The tip of his green bronze tail twitching, and the whirling of his eyes, the only real sign that he's giving at this point. He's intent, thpugh he quick movement leaves him blinking. But it's only for a moment, before he's launching himself skyward, and is swiftly over the pens. He swoops, down, and grabs a poor beast off the ground, before he's dropping it, and himself to the ground. He's snapping it's neck, before he's dipping his head down, and starts to drink the beasts blood.
Dragons> Ittisieth, blink? He wouldn't dream of it. Stare at Ellamariseth. Tail twitch. Stare at Ellamariseth. Tail twitch. Raonardoth's approach is noted only for proximity's sake, and is quickly forgotten; something far more important is afoot. For a dragon that considers sudden forms of locomotion to be emblematic of ill-breeding, the bronze takes up on Ellamariseth's cue without a moment's hesitation, claws latching into the dirt and then launching him forwards. The propulsion lands him in the midst of a few herdbeasts that have become complacent over the hours, lulled into a false sense of security. Crack, snap, a young female goes down, Itti's attention divided between neatly blooding it and the glowing gold. She moved fast. He had to be ready.
X'hil is still bug-eyed over there. Yep. Bug. Eyed. "I… things… /Elsewhere/." he stammers, and then shakes his head. "Don't /want/ that… the… oh shards." Brain is derailed on account of dragon blooding. "Bloody dragons." he mutters, scowling, and flopping into a chair. Not much to be done about it /now/, though honestly, not like he could have accomplished anything /before/. "…wasn't going to /be/ here…" he grumbles.
S'gam is happy to be ignored - or rather, he /was/. Cranky brown eyes snap up to eye O'zi, fingers digging into the keys, leaving a long line of jjjjjjjjjjjjddddddddddd's where there should be words. "It won't store files. It just sits there and tells me how it can't process my request. Error, error, error," he says, mimicing the machine in his most robotic tone. Bitter much? Ysa's book-landslide makes the bronzerider flinch in a big way, adding 'asldfksdj' to the medical file he was trying to update. "Indeed. Where is T'eo." Sig tries valiantly to return to the computer, but it's useless, and he gives up after erasing his typographical errors. Sigh. Forehead rub. Why-me expression, and then a forced smile. "It could be worse?" Though who that's aimed at is anyone's guess.
O'zi blinks, eyes widening at the crash behind the mountain of stuff. "Are you alright, Weyrwoman?" He asks Ysa, with a touch of concern. The dragons movements outside aren't lost on him, however, and he groans as he turns to peer out toward the bowl. "Shard it Rao, why do you keep doing this to me?" He mutters, and goes to take a seat. He shoots X'hil a look. "I hope nothing was too wrong with your kid." He's genuine for the most part. The guy was in a lighty big hurry wheen he rushed off to the infirmary. "Oh shards, that can't be good. Think there was a reason that I've avoided that thing so far." Not that technology was evil, just confusing.
Dragons> Ellamariseth lifts a bloody maw away from the herdbeast she has been draining to finally regard all her suiters. It's nice to see their manners, not that hers is any better with a bit of flesh hanging off a tooth as she bares her teeth in challenge. More like a dare. She flicks the herdbeast aside, bored with it, and goes off on all fours in an awkward lope to plow into another wildly terrified beast. What fun! Blood, blood… But the game gets boring fast. And just as fast as she blooded, she's taking off again— Just kidding. She drops right back down to a juicy cow that was trying to edge her way away from the blooding bronzes. The next time that she does take to the skies, after she sucks out every last drop of blood from the poor cow which takes awhile, it's for real. Wings out to their limit to catch every bit of warm Istan breeze to rocket her off to a good start.
Dragons> Kinseth is not fast on the uptake at all, really. He's all but neck deep in a second stomped-on herdbeast when Ellamariseth makes her first leap, and he utterly misses it, in favour of stomping at a third beast. He seems to like stomping. STOMP-STOMP-STOMPITY-squish! Oops, spilled one. He lowers his head to lap up the blood like a kitten drinking milk, taking off once this third is drained. He's a bit behind Ellamariseth now, but pushing higher, blood still dripping from that squishing foot there. Every effort is put into catching up, straining to match her good start. Air currents? What are those? Pure and straight flight for Kinseth. He needs no assistance from /breezes/!
"B-bruises heal," comes Ysa's squeaky reply to O'zi. There's a reason she hides when she's proddy. Paperwork can do itself next time, she's not even safe among it. "Y-you have it hit it. A few times," she offers helpfully to S'gam (well, there's some bit of Ysa still in her at least). There's a reason why she doesn't like to use the computers and leaves that to the Weyrleader and anyone else involved. X'hil's minor panic attack is given a sympathetic look, but it only lasts for a moment. He at least had an out whenever he wanted. She pushes books out of her lap and off her chair, listening to them clatter on the ground before eyeing the boys suspiciously and edging her way towards the door. "Could be worse," she agrees slowly. "But… but this is never any easier still."
Dragons> Raonardoth finishes draining his first beast, and tosses the carcas aside, only to pounce on the next one almost before the firt landed. He's barely leaving time to snap this ones neck, before he starts to drain it as well. It's heating up, and he can feel the change in the mood. He's shooting glances at Ellamariseth, making sure she's not trying to ninja her way out of here, as he finishes the second beast, and catches a third, draining it just as he did the first two. After the third, however, he's back to intently watching the glowing gold. He won't let her sneak away this time. He won't! Once she takes to the skies, forget unfolding the wings, he's bunching his muscles, and leaping skyward after her, leaving his wings half folded. After momentum carries him as high as he can get, he snaps his wings open, leaving the bloody feeding ground behind. That's somebody elses mess to clean up now. His bronzen wings are spread to catch the air currents, and carry his bulk through the skies. He takes note of his competitors, sizing them up. There's Kinseth, and a few others he recognizes, or would if he remembered. But Ittisieth was new, he'd have to watch out for him.
X'hil's eyes slowly widen, and then he swears. A little more loudly than intended, judging by the pink spreading across his face. "Cen… Cenlia… she'd be /elsewhere/. Of sharding course." Well… someone's in a foul mood, now that the panic's passed. He finally takes a moment to glance about the room, and he looks suddenly sheepish. S'gam? O'zi? How long've they been there? "Uh… Heh. Don't mind me…" he says, incredibly sheepish, sinking down into his chair. For a man as tall as he, attempting to become unseen in that manner is quite a challenge. "Good luck." he murmurs, with a grimace. It's really not clear /who/ he's wishing luck, or whether 'luck' entails winning or losing.
Dragons> Ittisieth's response to Ellamariseth's gorey dare is a low, promise-laden rumble, the slow red churn of his eyes kicking into high gear. The darkest bronze prefers to maintain a certain state of refinement, that much is clear - he picks and tears delicately with claws where Kinseth stomps and Raonardoth tosses - but he's easily tricked by the gold's takeoff-fakeout. Wings flutter backwards to brake just in time, a flash of ire tempered and held in check. Very well. Another herdbeast it is… but this time, when Ella truely takes to the skies, he's prepared. Fellows utterly forgotten, Ittisieth dashes into the sky after the senior gold, immediately taking a hot updraft he had seen a brown use earlier. See, he was stalking for /science/ - it was all for his advantage! … Hopefully.
O'zi nods to Ysa. "Uh, good to hear, wouldn't want you to get injured." He'll go silent, however, muttering to himself softly he focuses on his dragon outside, more than those in the cramped room with him. "Maybe you should of gone with her." He'll mutter at X'hil's complaint that Cenlia was likely gone at this point, off enjoying her day off somewhere or getting drunk, or something. He keeps his eyes open, bright blue eyes flicking about the room. Much likee his dragon, he's perhaps sizing up his competition, or else making sure nobodys going to hit him or something.
"You're lucky," S'gam mutters towards O'zi, one thumbnail picking at the soft flesh around his other in his classic nervous gesture. His mouth opens as though to say more, but it turns into a disgusted sound instead, eyes momentarily distant, with Ittisieth… Then, in a flash, they're focused on Ysa again. Predatory? Almost, which is probably why he looks away quicky, gaze skimming the computer screen. "I'll try that next time. The hitting, I mean. Couldn't hurt." X'hil's sheepish look is met with a brisk nod, but already Sig's looking more regimented, and isn't about to tease the poor man about anything. Small blessings? "Never easier for anyone." An attempt at comfort? Possibly. It's hard to tell when his voice is so non-committal all of a sudden.
Dragons> Someone's been picking up on the younger gold's habits… Ellamariseth insepcted each of the bronze's style, and she did stare particularly long at all of Kinseth's STOMPing. But it's little attention that she gives once she's taken to the skies, with all the space she could ever imagine up there. She leaves the bronzes behind, heading off straight for the sun to give her hide a blinding radiance. If that bothers the crowd gaining behind her… well, too bad for them! This Senior queen is having fun, diving down towards the water below her only to catch herself just before smacking, the ocean breeze struggling to pick her back up to her former height. But up she does go. Up and up with great sweeps of her wings and a cheery singing to her voice as she calls back to the chasers. Having fun yet?
Ysa freezes in her edging away as a flash of her old self returns, pushing away at the nervous proddy instincts to run. "It… it ain't so bad that Cenlia's elsewhere now, is it?" Pause and then softer: "I never heard complaining before." Yes, she's definitely pouting at the man. She blinks her eyes hard a few times, as if trying to clear something from her vision. The sun isn't only blinding to the bronzes (or their respective riders) as Ysa dips in and out of her lifemate's mind. "S-so long as you don't break it," she makes sure to add, belatedly remembering that it was one of their few if only workable computers at the Weyr. "You all… you know, keep up the good work." The Weyrwoman isn't going anywhere, nope. Moving towards the hopefully unblocked doorway if she's lucky.
Dragons> Kinseth is a bit, well, lacking in the finesse department, it's true. He would say he's singleminded of purpose, refusing to get petty little things like the daintiness of others get in the way of what is his by right. Herdbeasts, flights, that sunning spot that's better than the rest, it's all the same to him, all /his/. He roars rather loudly when Ellamariseth flies into the sun, but does he veeer off to a less blinding path? No, no he does not. He flies /straight/, blinding light be damned. The dive does offer some relief, and he pushes harder to catch up, plodding onwards, and upwards once Ellamariseth begins to rise. The cheery singing /really/ sets him on edge, and he snarls, gaining a second wind of mostly fury, which he uses to push himself onwards. SEE? He needs no breezes, or cheery singing! And no, he's not over-compensating for a less-than-manly rider, /really/.
X'hil scowls at O'zi. He just scowls. "For one, I didn't sharding realise Cenlia /was/ going anywhere, or /why/, or I sharding well /would/ have gone! But mainly… My son is laid up in the infirmary. On his sharding /turnday/. Not gonna run off and… uh…" He glances to the exit. What did he just do? He ran here, right? Hrm. "Well, /shards/." There's quiet from the man for a moment, as he sits with his shame. Then… Ysa mentions Cenlia, and the man looks puzzled. "Well… I don't /know/." is said, in a pained voice. "I think it /is/ bad, but shards, don't even know what… what that /is/." Wait. There's a 'that'? Well, actually, he doesn't seem to sure about that, either. Ysa gets a /stare/. "Com- complaints? NO! I would never!"
Dragons> Raonardoth focuses on Ellamariseth, and only Ellamariseth once he's done eying up his competition. He gives them a hiss of acknowledgement, and perhaps challenge. He's not letting them beat him that easily! This was now a competition, where only the best win, and loosers, well, loose. Ella's music gets a trumpet of approval from him as he narrows his eyes against the blinding sun and gold. The two nearly melding together, before Ella takes a dive toward the ocean, and he'ss soon hot on her trail once again, angling to skim the waters surface, before his braod sails are straining to take him back into the air. There's a determination running through him, as well as a competitive spirit running through him, and he pushes himself, as hard, and as fast as he can. The adrenaline, and the beasts blood combining to give him strength.
Dragons> If the piercing light bothers him, Ittisieth shows little of it - indeed, he has already leveled his course to make better use of the winds, taking every ounce of advantage from his slightly smaller, more streamlined body. Roaring? Brutality? So crude, and so debase compared to what a gold like Ella /deserved/ - Ittisieth would have none of it. Instead, he dips into a dive, following her aura like a beacon, but only just. One must think ahead! So flip-snap! go his wings, jerking out of the seawards swoop early to catch a friendly thermal. No straining here, just a rusty-sounding croon of appreciation for Ellamariseth's cheerful tone. Fun may be an extreme word, but he was certainly enjoying the pursuit!
"Don't snap at me! I was just saying!" O'zi says, glaring in return. "Not like that stopped you from coming in here." Is that him, or his dragon talking? Probably his dragon, O'zi's a sweet heart, really. "I bet Ysa's great in bed." He remarks, adding his two cents to the convo between Ysa and X'hil. He's mainly watching Ysa though. "Yeah, we'rre doing great work." They're sitting in chairs, that's work, sort of, right? He's tense, as if to follow her, but he's not getting up. Yet.
S'gam, dually agitated by the sun in his (his lifemate's?) eyes and the sudden tempers, rises to his feet to pace. Both hands fold behind his back, fingers sporadically clenching and unclenching, hawkish expression flickering from Ysa to X'hil to O'zi and back. Dark eyes narrow at the mention of Ysa's skills in the bedroom, but any reprimanding words that might have been said can't quite make it through the brain-to-mouth filter Ittisieth suddenly seems to have control of. Instead, Sig makes a strangled noise low in his throat and works on wearing a dent into the floor of the records room, gaze finally landing and staying on Ysa, one quizzical brow tilting upward at an angle. Yeah. Like she was going to get away from them that easily.
Dragons> It's a rather awkward orchestra behind her, the differences in the dragons responses. Trumpets, roaring, silence, etc. And yet Ellamariseth revels in it all because they're chasing /her/ and they're doing it for /her/. Yes, even those strong silent types— hey, they're still chasing, right? And they're going to chase her all the way to Rukbat, as the gold appears to be trying to fly all the way to the sun. Chasing it as the bronzes chase her. And yet she cannot resist another tease back to the bronzes and she turns her head around slightly to take a peek. Unfortunately her head acts like a rudder and her suddenly starts to follow, ruining her original plan. It's an air stumble, one that Ellamariseth will not be able to recover from and giving the bronzes a good chance at closing the distance as she travels perpendicular to them.
And now everyone's shouting at each other… "Sharding flights, sharding bronzers," Ysa mutters just a bit too loudly, narrowing her eyes as the flight continues and the awkward feelings start wearing off. What remains is the challenge in her eyes instead, snapping it from one man to the next before landing finally on O'zi. "I think you're a little too young to make those sorts of observations, boy. I doubt you'll be knowing anything about it anytime soon," she snaps. Great, now she's joined them. Forget the fact that O'zi has as much chance as any of them right about then for that to be true. After a long glare, she finally snaps her eyes to X'hil. "But if X'hil's to share details, they better only be good." Now where was she. Ignoring the looks she's getting, she turns swiftly on her heel and stalks out of the records room angrily, pretending to be storming out and not running away like she was doing at first.
Dragons> Kinseth likes roaring, it's rather like shouting. Shouting and stomping, if only there was some way he could make a living doing those. Ah well, such is life. Ellamariseth's chase after Rukbat itself is followed keenly by this lightning streaked bronze, those very same streaks catching and reflecting the sunlight, though slightly. Pushing onwards, there's a triumphant bellow when Ellamariseth falters. Is he /laughing/ at her? There's no time to ponder that now, as he's immediately making a barrel right /at/ Ellamariseth. This is his chance! His only chance!
Dragons> Raonardoth is not straining for long, as he wings carry bhim effortlessly through the sky once more. Bolting head long toward Rukbat as he moves after the Ellamariseth, keeping her in his line of sight, and not letting her out of it. There's nothing guaranteed, or owed by right up here! Up here, it's fair game! Winner takes all! He's ignoring the other pursuers now, as he focuses just on the blindly bright gold beacon, leading him home, or to certain doom. Just can't tell at this point. The adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He gives a slight cry at the midair stumble done by Ellamariseth, and though there's a tiunge of concern there, he sees the oportunity, and surges toward her tumbling form to try and catch her. Whether out of concern shee might get hurt, or otherside, it's hard to tell as well, but he's reaching out, and trying to snag her. He can be the sgrong silent, caring type as well if given the oportunity.
X'hil scowls at O'zi, but does not say a word. Why /did/ he come in here again? He scowls at the table for a bit. Yep. "Sharding /dragons/. Don't blame the riders! I don't want him to be /chasing/!" Rant, rant, rant. Really, doing an awful lot of complaining for someone who says he would never… "…uh. Because of /rank/." he feels the need to clarify. "Not … any other thing." But then, Kinseth is making his move, and the man just closes his eyes, sinking into the chair. Ysa is escaping? Well, fine. He's not here either. Nope.
Dragons> Ittisieth only maintains his near-silence because he is /driven/ - to succeed, to please. The thoughts are all-encompassing, just as blinding as Rukbat, almost overriding the extensive repetoire of aerial acrobatics he has picked up over the turns for moments like these. Almost. It's that tiny glimmer of a mistake that he latches on to, that one ounce of hope. He doesn't delight in her failure, nor does he seek to coddle her for it… Instead, the smallest bronze tilts his wings just so and zips to intercept that perpendicular path, entire body stretched to its limit, physically expressing what he may never, verbally. Yearning. Desire. It's there, hers for the taking, if this presented chance ends in his favor.
"Fine, whatever, blame the dragons." O'zi mutters. Well, it is the dragons fault that they're in here, right? Faranth knows there's other stuff that O'zi could be doing, like paperwork that he came in here to work on in the first place, cough. He looks embarassed at Ysa's comment aabbout being young. "Well, I haven't heard any complaints yet." Well, except that time with Cenlia in the itch vine incident, but that was the plants fault!
S'gam just skulks. And eyes them all. And skulks. And finally, some part of him breaks free of Ittisieth's bold silence, even if his hands clench painfully behind his back. "You can always tell your dragon no." This is stated in a weird way, condescending without trying to be, a warped blend of both dragon and rider. A dubious gaze lands on X'hil before it clouds over again. Well. Maybe not /his/ dragon, but still, there was a good reason dragonriding brothers and sisters kept their dragons from chasing one another… "Go!" Rational thought, though, is quick to fly out the window. Just as Ittisieth swoops to catch Ellamariseth, Sig takes the initiative and strides for the exit of the record room as well. If nothing else, he will be that much closer to running towards their weyr if his dragon fails. Those medical records would have to wait either way.
Dragons> Ellamariseth falters and the struggle to right her course is just too much energy that she doesn't have anymore, apparently… so she awaits her fate. Except just as the plowing bronzes near, some renewed energy jerks her to one side, doding the first large dragon with a rumble that's more a cackle. They fell for the trick! Well, that fool did. And then the next ones are coming, and she's trying to swerve away but it's too late now. She just barely gets out of the reach of the next bronze's claws, wishing fervently to resume the original game where they were having fun and chasing and there were so many there just for /her/. But eventually she has to settle on one, and it might as well be one that she hasn't yet had the dance with. While she isn't happy about the timing, her shuddering wings finally draw taunt as she gives in and falls back into the rapidly approaching Ittisieth, lucky enough to be the nearest one to snag her when she's finally reached her limit. Not because of his skill, oh no.
Dragons> Kinseth misses, and barrels on through the sky for a couple of dragonlengths. Momentum, it's a pain. When he finally manages to lumber his barge-like form about to make another run at his target, well, it's too late - Ittisieth has her. He snarls at the pair of them, and then another for Raonardoth for good measure - though less of one, in a slight bit of sympathy for the bronze. The ground is his target now, the feeding grounds. He was on his way to eat, after all! Blooding is fine, but must /hunt/ now.
Dragons> Raonardoth gives a screech of indignation, and goes off somewhere to raise hell at himself.
Dragons> Circumstance, skill; in the final measure, how much does the reason really matter? The flight may have been too short for her desires, but it has been justly won! The gleaming Ellamariseth is in the Sovereign's dark claws, and if he has anything to say about it, it will be a long, long coast out over the oceam before that changes!
S'gam might have hit the doors only a second behind Ysa, but it takes his brain a moment to catch up with the fact that she's started /running/ for the guest weyrs. Wait, really? Running? Hey! With a growl that could be interpreted in any number of ways, the bronzerider darts off after the poor weyrwoman, just as determined as his dragon to end the flight on the right note… repercussions and realizations can wait until morning. Mwahahahaha.
