The day was a particularly warm one for the cooler climate of Kharasi Weyr, the cloudless day allowing Rukbat's rays to burn down on anyone who exited the safety of the shade. Many people were taking advantage of this opportunity, swimming in the cool waters of the lake with their dragons. It should be a calm day for all, but for some reason everyone felt tense. The bronzes and browns were especially disturbed by something unknown to some, but anyone who was keeping up with the goings on knew what would be the cause.

Iolath slept deeply on her ledge, the great golden mound unmoving as she soaked in the energy giving rays of the sun. Sitting hardly half a dragonlength away would be the Weyrwoman, sitting upon a stool with her fingers thoughtfully folded before her as she stared at the glowing queen. She had had a few close calls during the past day or so, having had her heart leap in her throat, but this time she knew this would be the time. Outside the cavernous opening of her Weyr, she could hear the frightened bleats of the dragon fodder being chased as the first of the males began to blood their kills, and Alesia's blood roared in her ears.

The Weyrwoman was feeling a series of emotions. She was elated by the fact that the time had come, that Iolath was in fact normal and would rise, but at the same time, frightened at what was to come. What would it be like? Would she be able to control her queen and hold onto her mind in the air, or would she lose her forever? Was there something special she needed to focus on, some odd quirk of a way of staying connected with her beast that couldn't be explained? True, she shouldn't worry about these things, but everyone did at least a little their first time, or at least most do. A long breath would draw in, letting it out slowly to calm her nerves as she refocused on the bulk of gold that was Iolath.

Alesia was startled to notice the dragon now staring at her, one eye having unlidded and now staring her down. A rush of hot fire ran through Alesia's mind as the gold challenged her rider before she even moved, power and elation, anger and hunger coursing through her mind as she dared her rider to even move. Taken aback, the goldrider had to keep herself from recoiling from the gold's powerful thought. She -had- to move.. she couldn't let Iolath win. Though her legs trembled as she forced herself, Alesia stood, never taking her eye off the fiery facets that now attempted to pin her down. Then, she took one step forward.

There was a flurry of anger that flashed gold in Alesia's eyes, but it wasn't a mental blast she -saw-, but Iolath jumping to her feet and unfurling her wings, raising her head to give a defiant, throaty roar. How -dare- she! Iolath was all powerful! All would bend to her will! The beast sloughed her head from side to side, letting forth a violent scream in anger and fury and took a step towards her rider almost menacingly. Was the queen trying to assert her dominance before she even recognized any other need? Feuled by her own dragon's fury, Alesia surged forward toward the gold, her frame trembling with the mental strain her dragon put upon her, closing the distance between the gold and snarling at her lowered head, nose to nose. They locked gazes at that moment, but it felt like an eternity as a mental battle surged. Now, hunger began to wrack both their frames, but still they stood for a moment longer. "Go Iolath. Go blood your kill" The order was given out in a hiss.

Though the rebellion still lingered, it was a low blow to Iolath to be ordered to do something she wanted to do anyways. She couldn't tell her what to do! But.. she needed to... she needed.. food. A feral snarl tore from Iolath's maw as she whirled around, leaping off the ledge. The queen screamed angrily at the males that were blooding their kills, nearly bowling into a bronze in her haste to chase down a frightened buck. A sickening sound echoed through the feeding grounds as the body was mangled and broken by the full force of the queen falling upon it, and Alesia cried out as Iolath sought to eat from the flesh of the creature. "NO! IOLATH!" Her cry screamed out in a harsh wail as she clutched desperately for support of her weyr wall, tears beginning to blur her vision as she fought with the raging mind of her golden beast. Pulling everything she could think of, she envisioned meat as the most distasteful of things, feeling rage and hatred towards it despite the pain in her own belly being projected from her beast. Yes, nauseating, terrible meat, horrible! No! Don't! Can't! Horrible! Oh but the blood.. thirsty, filling.. good... BLOOD! Alesia's thoughts were as scattered as her dragon's, pulling on the rawest of emotions and influences to sway her dragon from eating her kill.

Below, the golden beast hovered over her kill, eyes whirling with fury and distress. Iolath was so hungry! Why would her rider ask her not to eat when her belly so craved it! Oh, but the blood, but the blood wasn't filling.. she must eat, but no! A throaty, bemoaning cry lilted from the gold's maw, as if some invisible force was denying her the access to what she most desperately wanted. Oh, but she would let her blood.. she needed something, she needed something in her belly! With as much reluctance as she had shown earlier, her muzzle dipped to sample the blood that pooled out of the beast's gaping wounds. Oh! It was wonderful, but.. there wouldn't be enough in the words to suffice her hunger! A feral cry was uttered before she latched onto the beasts throat, the gold's whole body writhing as if it took her every fiber to draw out the blood she so needed. Frustrated with her liquid bounty, she flung the dried beast, lunging for another. As soon as teeth began to gnaw flesh, Alesia asserted her plea once more, and was rewarded with a frustrated scream from Iolath. Still she held strong, and she once more blooded.

That hunger that felt as if it would never go away was slowly being abated, and Iolath did not need encouragement to blood a third time. Lifting her head, the blood dripped down the neck and chest of the queenly beast, giving a soft hiss as she looked around at the rutting bronzes and browns that were congregating around her, leerily weaving their bloodied heads as they watched her glowing frame. Their eyes upon her made her feel heated, furious, and beatiful, and she opened her wings as if to show off, peeling her lips back to give a feral growl. They all wanted her, but she wished to have none of them. They didn't deserve her!

((Ew... I started with a good idea. I don't know if I executed it well enough though))

Today really was a warm day, M’ndarb mused as he lounged in the kitchens with a cool glass of fruit juice in hand. He had been down here for the better part of the day, since it did happen to be cooler here. So, instead of swimming or napping, he was just relaxing and trying not to move too much. Moving would result in expending energy, which would cause him to sweat more than he already was. A little sweat was nice, but he certainly didn’t want to be drenched.

Across from him sat his older sister, Reina. She had come to the same conclusion as M’ndarb and had shown up not too long after he did, so the two enjoyed a companionable silence as they sipped their drinks and took in their surroundings. Despite the lazy atmosphere that should have consumed the weyr, there was instead a definite tenseness to the air. M’ndarb swore he could almost taste it in the air, and that wasn’t a good thing. Something was going to go down, that much he was certain of. He just didn’t know what.

Reina soon interrupted her young brother’s musing. “Don’t you think the dragons have been acting a little odd today? Especially the males. Haven’t you seen the way their eyes are whirling and how restless they are?” she asked M’ndarb, absently chasing the condensation down the side of her glass. At his silence, she glanced back up at him only to see his face blank and eyes distant. Ah, he was speaking with Jaraith. He had obviously caught on to what she had been hinting at. The man really could be oblivious sometimes, she thought with a low chuckle.

As soon as Reina had quite speaking, M’ndarb had immediately contacted Jaraith. When the rider had left the weyr this morning, the dragon had been asleep. However, there had been evident restlessness in the way he twitched every now and then in sleep. However, M’ndarb had brushed this aside and had gone down to the lower caverns to wait out the heat of the day. In hindsight, he realized he should have woken his Bronze up to see what had been bothering him. That way he would have known what was going on and he would have been prepared. Now, he was just going to do the best he could.

M’ndarb found Jaraith pacing on the rim of the weyrbowl. The dragon’s emotions were in turmoil, but first and foremost, M’ndarb felt eagerness for the flight to begin emanating from the Bronze. Shaking his head, the rider stood up and left the table without a word, leaving his sister smirking at his retreating back. The man headed for the weyrbowl, wanting to get a look outside. He paused in the entrance of the lower caverns, looking around at the many Browns and Bronzes. There was also a great many at the feeding grounds, each jockeying for a choice beast to blood.

He suddenly had to cringe as an angry scream ripped through the tense, still air, breaking the silence which had only been punctuated by the rustling wings and hisses of the male dragons. Cautiously, M’ndarb looked up at the sky above in time to see a glowing queen erupt from her weyr to descend upon the feeding grounds, sending beasts and dragons alike scurrying out of her way. However, one buck was not so lucky and was killed by the queen. M’ndarb found himself watching the event in sick fascination. However, after a moment he shook the feeling off and once again disappeared inside.

He would leave Jaraith to do what instinct dictated. M’ndarb needed to get himself to the Weyrwoman’s weyr. As he navigated the halls, he let his thoughts drift to his dragon who was still waiting patiently. Through his eyes M’ndarb could see as Iolath moved from one beast to another, satisfying her hunger. When the golden dragon had finished off her third beast, M’ndarb found himself in front of Alesia’s weyr. He now felt nervous. What was he supposed to do once he walked in? Just say, “Hey, how’s it going?” or, “This seems like it’ll be a good flight, yes?” No, that just sounded stupid. He stood outside for a few more moments before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door. He walked in and glanced around, seeing no one else was there yet. He focused his blue eyes on Alesia before nodding and finding himself a place at the wall to lean against.

It was tense in the Weyr that morning. Really, that was one of the few things L'gan hated about queenflights. Emotions ran high and people were much more easily agitated. He had awoken that morning and after a few quick stretches under his furs, leaped out of bed and nudged Behemath awake with a foot. The dragon reacted instantly, uncoiling his long tail and thrashing it irritably in the direction of L'gan. The bronzerider agilely dodged the offending appendage. "Ahh, so today's the day, huh?" He walked carefully to the ledge of his weyr and glanced up and over a few weyrs where sure enough, there lay the brightly glowing bulk of Iolath.

Watching for a few moments, L'gan shook himself out of his reverie and shrugged into his most comfortable leathers before heading down the maze of stairs that led to the lower caverns. No way was he going to ask Behemath for a lift down to the Bowl, that was for sharding sure! He spared a reproachful glance back in the direction of his weyr and Behemath and then continued his trek into the cooler depths of the Weyr.

There wasn't likely to be much in the way of company in the lower caverns, but L'gan detoured there anyways. Might as well grab something to eat before Iolath rose. The waiting was always a stomach-knotting affair made all the worse by an empty stomach. But as he entered, he saw a weary-looking Kiara sitting in a corner as she methodologically chewed a roll and sipped at her klah. He grabbed a bowl of porridge and sat down at the table across from her, raising an eyebrow. Kiara was always up for a good conversation with him, L'gan told himself. Which was, of course, completely untrue, for he never failed to break her last nerve.

"G'day m'dearest greenrider!" He greeted her jovially. "Nothing good about it." She snapped back. Milarth has been proddy lately and this certainly isn't helping matters. I had to stay awake all night to be sure that gold wouldn't decide to rise then and send Milarth into a frenzy." Kiara gestured glumly vaguely in the direction of the still-sleeping queen Iolath. "And you thought it a good idea to leave her now?" L'gan queried. The greenrider fixed him with a disdainful glare. "She's right outside, I can get to her in 3 seconds if need be." And it was at that moment that Iolath let out her first ear-piercing scream of rage. Kiara swore soundly as she jumped up and entangled her feet in the long bench underneath her. She dropped like a sack of firestone and hissed at L'gan as he bent down to assist her. "Tend your bronze!" And with that, she sprinted out the nearby exit to take Milarth away from the Weyr.

L'gan hesitated, staring down longingly at the tantalizing bowl of porridge before him. It looked as if the cooks had added some of his favorite berries that had just come into season. He sighed and pushed his bench back, not relishing the long run back up the stairs to the Weyrwoman's quarters. Math? He inquired as he began to run. I am on the rim. I will chase well today. The last was said with a steely determined tone. I wouldn't expect any less from you.

As he darted up the steps, L'gan briefly worried about his bronze. The flight was too soon. Behemath's wing wasn't fully healed, in his book. The weyrhealer had given him permission to remove the sling the day before last so that the bronze might hunt, but L'gan still worried. Behemath had a lot of bulk to carry, and his wings needed to be working perfectly. By that time, L'gan reached the door of Alesia's weyr, completely winded and unable to think any further on the subject. He stood there gaping for air like a fish out of water for a minute or two before pushing open the door and entering.

A quick glance around revealed Alesia standing on her ledge, fully concentrated on Iolath as well as another bronzerider by the side wall he identified as M'ndarb. L'gan moved into the room and stationed himself a few paces behind Alesia. They would all end up surrounding her later anyways, no need to waste energy competing for placement later. As he made himself as comfortable as possible, his gaze naturally landed on the queenrider. He knew this was her first flight. He felt an irrational urge to step forward and ease the tension with some silly comment or another, but he knew that controlling Iolath required absolutely all of her attention. So he remained where he was and waited for Behemath to take control.

The dragon in question was, for the moment, ranged around the Rim with the other bronzes, ignoring the blood on their muzzles as they stared intently, hungrily at the glowing queen before them. His eyes whirled rapidly with the familiar red-purple of pure lust that would only intensify once they were all in the air. Behemath shifted impatiently. He was eager to be off the ground to prove his prowess to all those around him, especially his queen. For she was indeed his, she just didn't know it yet. He snorted and snapped at a smaller bronze who was crowing a little to close on his left. Impudent brat.

L'most was working in the Weyrling's Barracks, setting things to rights. Though it would be a long time before there rooms were needed, he felt like he was accomplishing something by clearing the space for the young dragons and young riders to come. There was no need to lay out the neccessities yet, but he was cleaning the chests that that would one day house the Weyrling's belongings as well as sweeping the debris from the long barracks.

L'most turned to stare into the canyon floor at the sound of the queen's roar. Up above, out of his sight on the edge of the canyon Iolath locked wills with her rider and submitted to Alesia's commands. The brownrider could see the descent of the golden queen in her lust, and heard the snap of bones from halfway across the Weyr.

He never once thought that Dafyth might rise in chase. Both rider and dragon had been subdued in the past few months as Kalyn and Japheth were not at Kharasi. Still, as the queen began to blood her first kill, L'most felt Dafyth stir and awaken, desire coursing through the brown's veins.

The brown shook himself to wakefulness on the ledge of the weyr, his wings stretching in the afternoon's light. Bronzes and other browns had already begun to crowd the end of the bowl where the herdbeasts stampeded in terror from the queen dragon's need. Dafyth would not join them; instead the brown would rely on a head start from the air. He launched himself into the air, catching a weak thermal and beginning to spiral high into the air, waiting to see when the queen would truly rise, and then planning to swoop after her.

L'most sighed as his dragon flew without him into the skies above. L'most knew his duty, as the weyrlings that would some day soon fill this chamber must learn theirs. He would have to find the Weyrwoman's chambers, to wait there with the others in a room that smelled of sweat and desire. And because bronzes chased, the browns, as well as their riders, would most likely return spent, tired and alone.

T'mes had been watching Iolath and Alesia for the past few days, and every day that had passed had heightened the edge of tension felt in the Weyr. When Iolath had first begun to take on the sheen of a gold in heat he had take Kasmalith away from the Weyr, to the outskirts between the Holds, and begun to let the bronze blood his kills. Over the days that had passed Kasmalith had grown a little hungrier, but the great bronze avoided the heavy weight that a digesting meal would mean if the queen rose soon. Another day or so and the rider might have to let his dragon feed on something more substantial, but now Kasmalith was at the height of the form of his youth.

It was as T'mes and Kasmalith were returning from one of the forays into the backlands that T'mes noticed that Iolath's sheen had developed into the full grow of a queen in heat, and he felt his dragon's lust, which had been building over the past few days, rise in sudden burst. There, at that ledge, let me off there! T'mes instructed his dragon, glad that he'd taken to using straps he'd modified for just such a reason. One cut and the entire harness would fall away from the bronze, and then he would be free for the flight.

Kasmalith came to rest at the edge of the canyon, looking down at the golden one he desired to possess. He barely noticed his rider, or the stress and then pop of the straps falling away from his body. The swirling, glowing eyes of the dragon held room for Iolath alone. His legs filled with tension, waiting for the queen to rise, for that all-important first-downsweep and the chance to become airborne and chase her. To chase her and to catch her, and then to fulfill the need that was rising in him.

T'mes left the straps and the bronze on the top of the canyon, swinging over the edge to climb down to the nearest ledge. Kasmalith hadn't landed him near any convenient accesses to the lower levels. He'd have to find his way, feeling with fingers and toes, to an empty weyr and make his way from there.

Behind him, as the sweat began to run down his face, he heard the bugles of the blooding queen begin to change in tone. The queen's hunger was being sated, soon she would spring into the skies, and his Kasmalith would chase. He had to find his way to the Weyrwoman's quarters before then.

T'mes found the openings of an abandoned weyr below him and fell the few feet to the ledge. He took off at a run through the deserted quarters, his path angling downward and to the left, searching for the lower levels where he would be able to find the path to the Weyrwoman's quarters.

After heart pounding moments of sprinting through the corridors of the Weyr, T'mes found the heavy wood door of the Weyrleader's rooms before him. The door was slightly ajar; the bronzerider slipped inside to join the other men already there. Like him, they would also want Alesia for their own, as their dragons ached as much as Kasmalith to make Iolath their weyrmate. Collapsing into a wooden chair, T'mes felt his mind swirl with that of his dragons, coming closer to Kasmalith than the two had been since Impression. The bronze waited on the ledge for the object of his lust to rise, and T'mes waited with him.

Alesia seemed not to notice that anyone had come into her weyr at all. Her internal battle with Iolath had left her drained, and she slumped heavily against the cave mouth, sweat breaking across her upper lip, heavy pants escaping her parted lips. The Weyrwoman fought the urge to lay down and rest, shakily picking herself back up to stand upright. She had to stay with Iolath.

Down below, Iolath creeled softly to the males now, swiveling her neck to look at each and every one tauntingly. So close, yet so far away. No flight could be won on the ground, and a bronze or brown would be an idiot to try to approach a queen at this moment. Though none had, Iolath screamed and snapped at a late arrival, hissing warningly at Kasmalith if only so she would have a reason to assert herself. Then, she crouched, and in one fluid movement, lifted into the air, wings crashing down mercilessly against the wind to bring her into the air.

Alesia gasped as she was swept upon dragon wings, eyes widening as what she saw was slowly becoming less of her weyr, and more of the sky above. Surging up into the skies, the wind whipped against her skin but did nothing to cool the fire within her. She was absently aware of the bronzes and browns now taking off to give chase, creeling over her back to them as they pitifully tried to keep up. Iolath had not seen the brown high in the skies, too busy was she looking back at her grounded suitors.

The tension in the Weyr was so think it was almost palpable, like a shroud draped over the entirety of Kharasi. It was the kind of tension that only an impending queen flight brought on. K’ren had been aware of this, his dragon a bronze and keeping a close eye on Iolath, but tried his best to try not to let it get to him. He hated feeling so anxious, and it being doubled as emotions from Rakoth billowed into his mind only made it harder. It was an experience he wasn’t new to, a veteran of various queen flights in the past. His dear bronze had even been clever enough to catch a young gold on her maiden flight Turns back at their original Weyr. An accomplishment few bronzeriders could claim. Still, he hated the pre-flight anxiety.

The day was still early, many of the non-rider Weyrfolk just now beginning to stir, but bronze and brown riders alike (and even those of other colors though they would not be participating) were fully awake and alert. One could see the glowing hide of Iolath from below on the Bowl floor, bright and shimmering against the dirty stone walls of the Weyr. Many of the would-be suitors had found their way to the feeding grounds and began to pick out unlucky fodder to prepare themselves for the battle; chasing a queen always seemed like a battle, fighting for the favor of the gold and glory of a catch.

Rakoth was among those already feeding, large faceted eyes whirling madly with purple lust. A smaller bronze came close and was rewarded with a threatening snap of bloody jaws from his larger kin. Rakoth was asserting his presence to the other males already, letting them know he wasn’t going to be an easily outmatched adversary. He didn’t flinch or turn his attention from his bloody meal as Iolath let out a challenging roar from her weyr ledge. It would begin soon. He finished draining the warm liquid from his beast then sat back on his haunches to wait impatiently for the savage queen to begin her feeding.

Three very bloody kills after Iolath touched forcefully down in the feeding grounds she scanned her scrutinous eyes over all of her suitors. Then she was airborne. Rakoth bugled in just as much of a challenge to the other males as it was to Iolath herself and launched himself after her, his powerful and sinuous legs propelling him into the air. About this time K’ren had also found his way to Alesia’s weyr and joined the men already surrounding to prone but proud form of the Weyrwoman, young and beautiful with a stubborn focused expression as she struggled to keep her sanity against her dragon’s lust and anger.


((Gah, I really am rusty. >.>))

Behemath waited for that telltale bunching of muscles that would reveal the queen's liftoff a moment before she actually moved, his own body tensed and ready. He abandoned snapping at the other bronzes around him- the flight was now only a moment away and he had no time to waste bothering with the other contestants. Or at least those who called themselves contestants- none actually stood a chance against the mighty Behemath, of course.

Scarcely after this thought flitted through his mind, Iolath's powerful legs propelled her into the air- the flight was on! Behemath immediately followed, his mighty wings pumping furiously to place himself at the front of the pack. He roared, a deafening sound that echoed across the Weyr and drive the already frantic herdbeasts into a further frenzy.

L'gan experienced that familiar but still not entirely comfortable sensation of his own vision becoming abruptly tunneled as the raging emotions of his dragon began to take over. He blinked a few times before surrendering to the tumultuous rush of pure lust. He was Behemath, and Iolath would be his. None could challenge him!

Dafyth was high above, beginning another spiraling circle of the Weyr as he soared higher into the skies. He almost missed Iolath launching herself and had to correct with another half turn to join in the chase. He was already falling behind the bronzes who also chased the queen, but he at least had the advantage of altitude.

The brown's wings strained against the winds to make up for lost ground. Against the larger bronzes, Dafyth would need every scrap of advantage he could get. If he was to win, the flight must end more quickly, before the bronze's greater endurance could outlast the smaller brown.

Below, in the Weyrwoman's chambers, L'most felt his mind succumbing to his dragon's desire. His disinterest in Alesia turned into a growing curiosity, and finally a deepening need to have her as his own. The flights Dafyth had given chase in had been comparitively few, and generally after Japheth. Now, for the first time, L'most was experiencing the need to be with a woman he barely knew, one who was unknown to him. At the same time, if Dafyth were to catch Iolath, he would become Weyrleader, a position he knew himself not to be ready for. As he lsank against the stone wall of Alesia's room, L'most could not help but hope that Dafyth would not be Iolath's chosen.

Kasmalith chose not to react to the queen's childish hiss, instead he watched, and waited from the rim of the canyon, tensing himself for the inevitable spring that would put him in the air chasing after golden Iolath.

A moment later the queen launched herself into the air. Kasmalith launched as well, just as the queen passed. He could not catch her now, but he would work his hardest to keep the distance between he and the glowing object of his desire to a minimum. Rising beside him at the same time was another bronze, Behemath, or something like that. The other bronze did not matter, Kasmalith meant for Iolath to be his.

Unaware of the brown far above, Kasmalith vied with Behemath for leadership of the chasing dragons. Far below, T'mes found himself vying even as Kasmalith did for Alesia's attentions. Though the Weyrwoman was focused entirely on staying with Iolath, T'mes still found his way in front of her, to be there should her eyes see the room and not the skies. Maybe it would make a difference. Even as he did, the power and need of his bronze began to overwhelm him, and it took most of his mental control to direct the bronze, and not merely be taken along with him for the flight.

Amongst the Weyrwoman, it seemed everyone had their own way of coping with the mental toll of the flight. Some seemed more affected than others, while a few seemed to be able to control when they were taken into their dragons mental grasp. Well, this was a gold Alesia was dealing with, and her first flight at that. She had no luxury of the sort. At that moment, Iolath's burning fury had swept her away, and she hadn't even the luxury of knowing who was chasing, or had much of a luxury to comprehend.

Iolath was suddenly alerted by the prescence of a brown higher up into the air and veered effortlessly to keep a good distance, snarling menacingly as she now powered her wings even harder to bring her even higher into the air. A few frustrated snarls sounded behind her as she was driven faster, widening the gap between she and her suitors. How much they struggled to keep up with her, not fueled as she was with the heat that only a female dragon could attain, and not with the power that a queen could possess.

Yes, the power! Of course Iolath had been allowed to fly before rising, but not like this! Eternally they had been scolded for daredevil stunts, flying out of formation, going higher than needed, but nobody could tell them what to do! Iolath gave a mighty roar, spreading her wings wide before giving a huge sweep that changed her direction from straight up, to straight left, corkscrewing as she flew away from the Weyr and over the huge, dangerous mountains. But Iolath was too high to be worried by them; she was unstoppable!

Oh, but what about those suitors of hers? As if only just remembering them, she lazily looked behind her to see that they were still powering along, a few being further behind than the others, but some keeping pace quite nicely. It seemed even a few browns were still in the chase, and though haughty, she gave them credit for their valiance. Maybe, just maybe, they were worthy of merely looking at her brilliance in the sky. Wishing to taunt them, she slowed, allowing them to close the gap some.

Behemath's wing joints were beginning to ache with the strain of powering his huge bulk through the air at such a breakneck pace. He steadfastly ignored the strain and began to pump even harder. There was no way he would let Iolath escape him. Had he not sired clutches before? What better suitor was there in this flight? None! He let out a mighty roar just as Iolath shot up and to the left. The bronze knew his size would hinder him in making such sharp turns, so he instead changed his direction at a more leisurely angle that would place him just below and behind the queen.

He flew silently on, his lust for Iolath and his rage at the others who dared chase her unabated. This was the first time he had truly flown since the sling was taken off, and he intended to prove that the minor sprain in no way hindered his performance. He flew yet faster as Iolath rose further and further into the sky. This would be a good clutch, he knew, and he intended to father it.

K'ren had let Rakoth take charge as soon as he had found his way to Alesia's weyr. There was no need to hold onto his own awareness any longer, though it was very much in his power to do so, but the flight would be determined by Rakoth and the other males and not their riders. K'ren was just a bystander who merely got to experience the glory or disappointment of post-flight. He rooted for his bronze's success because the big brute wanted to win, but he would really feel indifferent about losing; except that he would miss out on bedding with a beautiful woman.

Rakoth was large, therefore unable to maneuver with the dexterity possessed by the smaller males, namely the browns, but it was indurance that would win this flight. A brown would have to be very lucky to be able to catch Iolath, if they were to last long enough, because the gold would never choose one of them willingly as a mate. Only a bronze was worthy of that privilage. He was going to prove that he was superior to the other contestants of this flight.

He was not a stupid bronze either. He had a lot more experience with queen flights than most of the young males here and he knew mostly what was to be expected from the glorious golden gems that they so longingly desired. Iolath was young and eager, already taking risky turns and wasting precious energy. Rakoth was a patient bronze. He let a few of the more persistant pass him, taking his turn carefully as he followed the queen in the air. She had managed to create a reasonable gap between herself and her suitors, however, she had slowed a fraction. He knew this was only to tease her males and didn't let himself get excited over this and remained at his current pace. Others weren't so observant or were over-eager and pressed on even harder.

Though the golden one played on as if she were the least bit interested in her suitors, the maiden queen looked over her shoulder eagerly at those who chased her eagerly. What was this? One seemed to be working hard to keep up with her, coming closer only because she had slowed. Another one took his time, which was almost an insult to the golden one. They should not be able to resist her beauty! Mindless with need, they should be, charging on mindlessly after her! Of course, this was coming from the haughty mind of a queen, and whether these thoughts had any merit would be questionable. Irritated, and burning with a feeling that the maiden queen didn't understand past some nagging instinct, she opened her maw to hiss and snarl at her followers, which were growing more few in numbers as a bronze and two browns dropped from the race (npc's).

With a burst of speed, she hurled herself away from the males and across the mainland, large wings taking her further and higher away from the Weyr. The queen would not be able to go much higher after a while, but the mountainous regions were shrinking as they went away from the high peaks of the Weyr and to the smaller, lower ones that were inhabited by farmlands and beastholds. How far had they gone? The queen knew no time nor distance, only need. More shrill taunts were tossed over her golden shoulder, wishing to urge the bronzes and browns onward. The browns would probably not last much longer with the chase she was putting them through.

Suddenly, with an agility only a lusty queen could muster with her size, she turned about to charge at her followers, eyes burning with fury and frustration. With the way she was flying, it seemed she wished to bowl them over! They were the ones who could slake this thirst that the blood had not sufficed, but was she ready for them to come near? The queen could not decide, but still she charged on, wishing to scatter and startle the stoic, wise beasts, to stir their blood and their minds to match the frenzy she felt. She did not like this smugness they felt! They knew something in their older age that she did not! These thoughts of course, were very scattered, and probably were not as well formed in the queen's furious mind, but their impassive, quiet nature made her wish to heaten their blood, make them truly want her!


((Yay, wanted to make this more interesting than just a straight flight XD))

Behemath continued his feverish pursuit, bellowing back a response to every warble the queen issued. Suddenly and without warning, Iolath doubled back and shot straight through the ranks of the chasing males. The bronze had been slightly below Iolath and was forced to dive lower to avoid her claws raking his back and wings as she flew overhead. The sudden move jarred his strained joint more, but he stoutly ignored it as he struggled to maneuver through the others who were just as disoriented as he.

After a few moments, he had regained his balance and began to work his way back up to the front of the pack. He was unsure how much longer he could go on- he was an older bronze, and the energy and power it took to haul his large bulk through the air was considerably more than what some of the smaller bronzes and browns needed to expend, giving them more stamina. But he refused to give up. He would fall from the skies in exhaustion before he would willingly surrender!

In the Weyr, L'gan staggered slightly as he felt Behemath drawing on the energy of his rider. He braced himself and planted his feet firmly on the stone floor. The dragons were long past the bounds of human eyesight, but of course that didn't matter to anyone currently in the room. L'gan could almost feel the wind rushing past his face, and all he saw was the glowing queen just out of his reach. He inched closer to Alesia as Behemath began to make headway again.

After everything Iolath was putting these bronzes through, most were still flying strong. A few of them, she detested. They flew smugly after her, reeking in their confidence and doing nothing to win her favor. Those were the ones that would have to drive her to the end of Pern till she was ready to drop from exhaustion to catch her, and already her wings were beginning to tire, and the thought of one catching her not of her own choice enraged her. A bronze shot up, surprising her, and she shrieked, barreling around in the other direction to escape him. Distracted, she backwinged, hissing at the bronze that hat surprised her so.

This action brought her to a wall of bronzes, leeringly awaiting with grasping claws and swiveling necks. This nearly sent the queen into a panic as she realized there was no escaping. Choose, she had to choose! Narrowly avoiding the clutches of most, she slipped into the grasp of Behemath, creeling for his protection as she folded her wings for the mating fall.

In likeness to what was happening above, the men were circling Alesia hungrily, driven on by their riders, but Alesia would have none of them. Through panicked dragonsight, she looked around for that aura that would be Behemath's rider, a cry ringing out as she reached out for him, for his protection from those who did not deserve her.


((Shorter than I would have liked it to be a bit more climactic and interesting but it seems most of my posters have been busy and I can't keep this going forever... so dearly afraid to lose rpers, I am.))

A furious roar escaped Behemath as he watched the bronzes around him suddenly begin to dart and dive around Iolath, desperate to catch her. He refused to lose to the likes of them!! With an extra burst of speed he didn't know he possessed, he charged forward as Iolath wove skillfully through the grasp of his competition. He sounded a note of surprise as he suddenly realized that the gold was maneuvering not away from him, but directly to him. Against all expectation, she had decided to choose her champion.

Well, who was he to complain? The bronze hastily entwined his neck with hers as he beat his powerful wings, this time to push the pair away from the enraged and sorrowful followers. Once away from the hectic crowd, Behemath crooned softly as he spread his wings carefully to slow their descent.

Simultaneously, back in the weyrroom, L'gan was spurred into action as Iolath chose to end the flight. He reached for Alesia, sheltering her from the grasping hands of those who still sought to take her from him. He held her to him for a moment before he hoisted her up and shoved his way through the mass of bodies in the room. Bed, bed, where on Pern was the sharding bed?? He preferred not to enjoy the afterflight bliss on the hard stone floor after all! The remaining bronzeriders reluctantly filed out of the room as L'gan finally found the adjoining sleeping room. He collapsed on the furs with Alesia as the scene faded to black.. :P

((Yay for fading and whatnot! You gonna want to do afterflight awkwardness? I'd imagine it'd be after a short nap so it'd be early evening =D ))

Absolutely! Here or in in the queen's study thread?

Eh, up to you, but do you think you could make the first post? =D

Sure, give me a little while for inspiration. I'll have a post up in the other thread later tonight. :)