Calling to the Darkness|Onyx; Open

[Lyrikitty]

(Offically I've decided to open it early, just because I've one post left in Liberty with them, and see no reason to keep this closed. Yeah... Mostly for Onyx though anyone really could join.)

D'myn lay in wait, having spent hours pouring over the useless niformation gathered turns ago relating to Talune Weyr. Nothing on hide was any good, all the information long past it's days of use. Who cared that a dead Weyrleader had been an insomniac, or that he hated crawlies? Or that the Weyrwoman was all but daft and useless? What good were such trivial things when he couldn't even do anything to those people? In a rage he'd flung the hides about the room, knocking them from the table and seething. Oh, there was plenty about Crystal Cavern and New Cove, though he didn't need anything from his home Weyr, he knew it by heart, and his information was more current anyway.

But shard it all, they had let that stupid Misery leave for a reason! Of course D'myn hadn't thought to see just how much katya had gathered in her days as a scout, he'd trusted the fact that she'd don a perfect job for the other Weyrs she'd been to. Why wouldn't she have done the same for Talune? Mulling over that put his mood to a whole new level, and his fist swung, connecting solidly with the stone wall, a dull, meaty thud, and the crack of bone, followed by the pained snarl from above, Xanturnoth waking from his supposed slumber to toss his head irately, feeling the same pain that D'myn foolishly inflicted on himself.

D'MYN! Do NOT do that to yourself. I shall call the silly beast to us who is infuriating you so, and we shall deal with them justly. However there is no sense in the Weyrleader and MY rider injuring himself because of some stupid woman! The Amber's tail lashed, scraping over stone, as he rose, stalking along the broad surface where the dragons often sunned as the Weyrleaders confrenced.

There was no meeting today though, nothing important at all that would draw anyone near the stone building, far from the Weyr. It was only D'myn and Xanturnoth that were here, because they needed information about Talune badly, they needed to find a way into that Weyr unseen, and to make the Misery Nazareth sorry she had ever thought to leave Black Sands, to make her pay within an inch of her life, and to watch those who were fool enough to cross Black Sands sorry as well. While the Weyrleader was below in the cool stone room, shuffling through hide after hide, to find nothing of use, Xanturnoth had perched atop the rock, laying serenely, as though nothing were amiss, his eyes closed, body so still he could have been stone, save for the slight rise and fall of his sides. A clever ruse, though he'd been wide awake, listening intently to everything around, smelling, his mind waiting patiently for anyone to wander close, for anyone to think too loudly, too openly, so he'd have time to warn D'myn below.

D'myn cursed, cradling his hand for a moment, knowing well that he'd just broken at least two knuckles in that foolish act, though he'd had the satisfaction of the sound the stone made, and he knew there would now be a weak spot there, perhaps one day he'd puplicly smash the head of Talune's Weyrleader into that spot, watch stone cumble away and let all others think he'd done that with a single, devestating blow. Wouldn't that be nice? Pern would look at him with fear-filled eyes, and he'd let them think what they would. With a sigh, he pushed away thoughts of things he'd like for the future and emerged from the Meeting Hall, into the early evening, the light still strong, but fading slowly, just starting to hint that night would come soon. His eyes, pale, frosty pools of pale blue tilted up to the massive form of his amber, his beloved beast, even though he was not large for his color, he dwarfed every other dragon in the Weyr. What creature would ever stand a chance against him in a Flight? What king could ever catch the female of his dragon's eye?

Perhaps that was the wrong way to word it, for Xanturnoth was only loosely bound to the queen he was mated with, it was the Wildfire Vesaleth who held his heart. He'd had little choice in who he could bond to when he'd been transfered, and the Wildfire had been his best bet. With a wry smile, D'myn gazed apon the Weyrking proudly, his lips twitching into a smile. "While you're at it, call me a Misery. I think it's been too long since that Silverpair was reminded what Black Sands can do."

Xanturnoth rumbled in delight, a deep sound, a chilling one, that sent a nearby wherry racing away with a fearful squawk.

The Amber stretched languidly, his muscles rippling under his tainted hide, wings unfurling and reaching for the sky. All the grace and beauty of a predator in relatation were present, but lurking just beneath, just short of tangible, was the violent side, the monster hdded by naught save a thin layer of gloss, a light coating of sugar. He rarely showed open temper, rarely showed the world just what he thought of it, and he'd managed to pound the same mindset finally into D'myn. They may give off the feeling that at any second they'll tear the heart -still beating- from the nearest chest, and that was fine, but only when it was in their best interest would they act on it.

I shall do that then, I must agree, a little meeting would be wise. Only the eight of us, nice and... Cozy. the last word was drawn out into a silky purr, the corners of Xanturnoth's lips curving into a feline smile of satifaction and he settled himself back to the ground, as though nothing at all were on his mind, and called first to a Misery, one who would be easy to keep in line and order to silence. Little one, come to me. Come visit with me at the Meeting Hall, I've a chore for you. The Misery he'd chosen was quick to respond, not with a word, but with his presence, he and his rider appearing within seconds of their summoning, eagerly looking at the Amber and the Weyrleader. "You are going to help us remind a troublesome dragon and rider not to cross the Weyr, and help us recover some useful information. How does that sound?" Xanturnoth eyed the Misery, deciding he would likely fit into the Meeting Hall, and gestured with a jerk of his head. Take your rider down there. Stay. Your face doesn't need to be seen. As soon as a Silver appears, hit her, hard. Bring her to the ground as fast as you can, but don't kill them from the fall. A second pair had arrived as well, slinking into the deep shadows of the forest to wait, linking her mind to the male's and waiting to synchronize the atacks, to make it all; seem like one big one, unseen by nearly all, but taken notice of by both the other dragons.

The misery tilted his head, but nodded his obedience, following his riider into the Meeting Hall after a small bit of trouble forcing himself in. Neither misery nor Miseryrider said anything, remaining silent, the woman's hand resting on her lifemate's shoulder lightly, anticipating what was to come. They were one of the pairing under a Wildfire, though not Vesaleth, and had been informed that should ever the Weyrleader D'myn or his Amebr Xanturnoth request their services, they were to obey, and not question.

Xanturnoth tilted his wedged head, looking up for a moment thoughtfully, and frowned, the lighting was still good, enough that he'd have no trouble spotting the Silver, nor would D'myn, but just enough shadow was creeping to the ground to obscure the pair on the ground if they so wished, if they took a few steps into the forest. But that asn't their purpose, if they were out of sight the Silver might grow wary. However, with the Amber lounging on the stone, and D'myn leaning on his side... Yes, that would work fine. Sharing the same though, D'myn prowled to lean against the Amber, looking out over the water, as Xanturnoth called to Basionath. Silver, we must talk at the Meeting Hall now. Bring your rider and tell no one. The bait was set, let the little fool fall into his trap.


Basionath's head lifted from her forepaws, her drowsy eyes blinking open as Xanturnoth's commanding voice filled her head and pulled her from her slumber. She still suffered from the visit to Talune, so greatly missing the Weyr that it possessed nearly her every thought, and Katya suffered much the same. They spent a great deal of time sleeping or in their weyr, away from Black Sands in the only way they could be.

With a sigh, the Silver heaved herself to her paws, peering around to see Katya sitting in a chair, gazing intently at a glass of red wine that slowly swirled in the bell of the cup as the woman's hand gently urged it on. Katya, get up. We are to meet Xanturnoth and the Weyrleader now. Sio was far from fond of Xanturnoth, but he was Weyrleader, and though she had no desire to go to him, she was compelled by her obedience to the Weyr.

Katya rose, walking stiffly to the Silver's side and vaulting up, holding tightly to the neckridge before her as she rode bareback, no straps to hold her in place. "Let him know we're on the way Sio. Fly though, I want to be able to get a look at what we're getting into." Sio might not be capable of immediately seeing the bad in others, being a Silver, but Katya was, and she had a deeply rooted dislike for D'myn, and a fear of the amber that she couldn't explain. The Silver nodded, relaying the message, and padded to the ledge, unfurling her wings and looking out at the Weyr for but a moment before she tilted off and let air fill her wings, lifting her aloft. She hung that way for a heartbeat, gliding, and then stroked her wings through the air, lifted herself higher until she soared up and out the top of the Weyr and into the clear sky, her hide shimmering it's silvery hues, tainted by the dark tint of Black Sands.

As they winged to the Meeting Hall, Katya's eyes darted about, hunting for any hiding guests, for any sighs of danger, but as the stoney building came into sight, she saw none, only the Amber and rider lounging peacefully on the top, the smooth surface of stone. Perhaps they treuly wanted nothing more than to-

The Misery had sensed the pair, felt them comming, and had crawled into the minds of both the Silver and the rider before either could know it, silently, and so when they looked down at the Meeting Hall, they were both struck with pain, blinding them, driving them to the unholy ground forcefully.

The Silverpair tumbled down, Katya falling from Basionath's back nto the air, only to be clutched tightly by the Silver's paw, both screaming in agony, a pain that stopped just as suddenly as it began, and leaving enough time for only one thing. To land. Sio's wings slammed into the air as she righted herself and made an akward landing as best she could, still falling over, but protecting Katya from harm and doing herself no damage. The rider rolled over the soil as Sio's claws unclenthed, red marks staining her sides where the dragon's talons had peirced skin in her desparation to save the rider.

The Silverpair lay still, moaning, trying to catch their breathe, as D'myn and Xanturnoth looked on, smiling. Ah, what sweet bliss to watch the agony dance oveer their features.

After a moment of savoring it, the pair moved, D'myn strolling leisurely to Katya's still figure, while Xanturnoth idly padded over to Basionath, placing a taloned paw over her skull and staring down at her, his eyes wheeling not the expected reds of anger, but instead a happy, bemused green-blue. He was enjoying this, greatly so. D'myn crouched over Katya, pulling out his belt-knife and admiring it, flashing it before her eyes, light sliding over it's length like a lover's carress. His gaze shifted, away from the blade at to Katya as her own dark pools stared furiously up at him, her spirit rising as she obviously tried to find a way out. "One move, dear Silver, and your pretty dragon's skull will be flat, and her brain no more than a smear on Xanturnoth's paw."

Katya's eyes flickered to the Silver, looking at the worried eyes, wheeling rapids yellows and grays, as they looked back at her. She could see the Amber, standing over her beloved silver, lording the fact that he need only start adding weight to kill her, and Katya's heatr sank. She knew they were in trouble, even as Sio tried to pleade witht he Amber for some form of kindness, for Hers to be- "NO!" Katya surged upward, only to have a solid fist connect to the side of her head, Basionath uttering a furious shreik, and a fresh new wave of Misery-inflicted pain washed over both of them, drowing out all else. It had to be more than one! Had to be a second Misery somewhere, though they still didn't know where the first was. Katya moaned, trying to bite back the urge to howl, to let out her agony vocally, bringing a light laugh from D'myn as he loomed over her, a dark rumble of amusement from Xanturnoth as he positioned himself above the Silver, pinning her, standing on her wings to keep her from moving.

Again, the pain vanished, leaving the Silverpair gasping and shuddering, both comforted only by the fact that neither cried out, that neither had given that pleasure. "Katya, Katya! You don't like this, do you? No... No you don't, and neither do I. I just hate seeing you suffer so. Let's talk, shall we?" D'myn's voice, honey sweet, dripping, silken and seductive, was whispered into her ear. Katya shudder beneath him, trying to turn away only to find the shining beltknife inches from her eyes. "Talk to me Katya. Tell me all about Talune. If you don't..." He trailed off, just in time for Basionath's voice, pained, filled with misery and torment, to ring out as Xanturnoth let his weight sink onto her skull a little more, the pressure on her skull immense. Katya gasped, air seeming to refuse to fill her lungs, her heart thundering wildly, and her vision blurring.

"No..." Her voice was forced, breathey, and her dark eyes pleading. "Please no, not Sio..."

Xanturnoth added more pressure, and Basionath squealed, writhing as she tried to free herself, tried to stop the crushing weight that bore down on her like a ton of bricks. "Alright! Alright just stop, please stop!" Katya tossed her head, trying to fight from crying, trying to fight back the building panic in her heart.

"Good girl Katya. Now, why don't you close your pretty eyes, and have your lovely Silver do the same? No peeking now, or someone won't be seeing for a very long while." Katya obeyed, shaking, as did Basionath as the pressure looming over her lightened, their eyes sliding shut and fearing the worst.

Xanturnoth turned his gaze to the Meeting Hall, hissing softly as the Misery and rider hiding there emerged and stalking silently into the forest, the Silverpair utterly unaware of them. Keep your eyes close little Silver, and do not move. Xanturnoth's mind-voice was a light, rippling sound, like water, burbling over a rocky streambed. "Be still Katya, or Xanturnoth will kill that Silver in a heartbeat." Katya froze, as D'myn's arms slide under her and she was lifted effortlessly. He was moving her, and she dared not crack an eye or ask, for fear of the consequences to Sio.

She was dropped unceremoniously to a hard surface, the stone table in the center of the room, and her hands wrenched behind her back, leather straps tied tightly around the wrists. Oh no... She had a bad feeling, and when a coarse hand wrapped around her throat, her eyes snapped open of their own accord, looking up at D'myn's shadowed face, into his cold eyes, the eyes of an animal, not man, and she had the unmistakeable feeling that death was looking over his shoulder at her, smiling that same smile, the same cold look reflecting in the demon's eyes.

"Now Katya, why don't you desribe for me what Talune looks like? Tell me every detail you can recall. The more you give me the better the chances of your Silver friend." Sio, talk to me. Let me be your friend, it hurts me to do this to you, and I'd hate for something bad to happen to your sweet rider. Tell me all about your birth-Weyr, tell me about Talune... The Amberpair spoke to their prey at te same time, each deceptively sweet, each knowing fell well they had no intention of allowing either Silver or rider to live.

Sio hissed, her lips curling over her teeth in a vile growl that no one from Talune would have believed a Silver capable of. Never! Talune is my home! Weight bore down again, this time n her neck, just below the curve of her jaw, cutting off her air as she choked mutely, while Katya kept her lips shut, turning her eyes away from D'myn's looming face, from the malicious man, from what she knew would be a certain death. She could only ask that it be a swift one, painless for Sio, the Silver never deserved this, never should have been forced to come to this place.

As Basionath's vision grew hazy, Xanturnoth lifted his paw a little, allowing the flow of air to resume into her lungs. Ready sweetest? He dropped his head low, letting his tongue carress her cheek affectionately, the way he might have were she an adored mate, revelling in her strugglings as she tried to pry herself away from him.

No! No, just go away... Go! She shook her head meekly, her eyes warily watching the Amber, herm ind firmly connected to Katya, Katya who remained silent, not a sound rising from her lips. Her brave Katya! How the woman must love Talune, how devoted Katya must to be her refined self, to suffer this torment silently. It bolstered her courage, and she resolved to remain just as silent no matter what may come.

Katya had closed her eye again, afraid to open them, to see what lurked in her future. It was a good thing, too, for had she been watching, she'd have seen D'myn's hand shove her forehead back, her head firmly pressed against the table, face tilted to the roof, would have seen the sleek blade inch closer, and slide into the meaty skin of her cheek. Her eyes squeezed tighter shut as she bit her tongue, ignoring the burning pair that slowly made a shallow line along her cheek, tracking from center to jaw, and then lower... The skin of her neck opening happily for him, her blood rising to the surface eagerly it seemed, for the felt the hot, slick liquid oozing.

Her mind felt fuzzy, distant, though the cuts were shallow they hurt, and she was scared witless. "Katya, stay with me for a bit longer would you? I'd like to hear you scream at the very least." The blade vanished, and while Katya's head still spun, it started to settle, though she wished it wouldn't. she wished she could simply lose her senses and float away into a dark abyss. "Good girl. Now be a real dear would you? Tell me what I want to know." His hand lifted from her brown, caressing her unharmed cheek lightly before slapping her, hard, a red welt rising immediately, her head snappng to the side and banging against the table. A low moan slid past her lips, blood filling her mouth as three teeth were knocked free, barely enough energy lasted in her to spit them out in a messy pool, feeling as though she would wretch.

Katya rolled over, trying to get away, only to have D'myn's hands bury themselves in her hair, jerking ehr back and off the table as she was flung against the wall, crashing into it before falling limply to the ground, the world around swimming as she faded into darkness, sweet, blessed darkness, and not a sound uttered. Victory was her's, though at what price she feared to think.

Basionath snarled as Katya's mind faded into the abyss, the Silver struggling with a renewed ferocity, managing to come so very close to freedom before a blinding pain surged into her mind, more than she'd ever encountered, for it was not one, but two Miseries who attacked her heartlessly, driving the Silver back to the ground with a shreik, both mental and physical, her voice ringing out like a siren, her mind looking to the only place she could think of, the only creature who shecould turn to when all else failed, if he kept his promise...

VARANTH! She needed the Onyx, needed him more than she'd ever needed another, more than even Katya needed her. Her heart raced as she ploeaded silently he respond to her call, pleaded that he keep his word and come to her aide. Varanth... Her voice became fuzzy as her mind too slipped away, into the dark abyss, the last thing she knew was that a massive paw swatted her face, talons raking the hide and leaving rifts behind that dripped ichor, and the chilling sound of Xanturnoth's endless rumbling.

With both Katya and Basionath useless, and neither having offered any information, D'myn shook his head, taking a second length of rope to bind Katya's legs, making it near impossible for her to go anywhere if she woke up, and emerged from the Meeting Hall and looked up at Xanturnoth, watching the Amber for a moment.

The Amber delicately stepped away from the Silver's limp body, shaking one paw to rid it of blood, and he looked back at the Silver. She was a pretty creature, but stupid. It was a shame, really. With a sigh, he shrugged, padding away and to D'myn with a smug smirk. He'd gotten no information, but he had enjoyed it! So had D'myn, the sick gleam in the man's eyes told that well, and chuckling, D'myn mounted the amber, as the great expanse of wings unfurled and lifted them into the air, away from the scene, and away from whatever might come.

The Miseries emerged as well, looking scornfully at the Silver's body, and with a huff, they left as one, riders mounting and dragons launching to the air, they too had no desire to remain, and had better business to attend to.


Word Count: 4124
Character: Katya of Basionath; D'myn of Xanturnoth
Notes: Wow... Well we now know when I'm in a real bad mood, I shouldn't play with D'myn. *nods*

[Onyxaeon]

"Catch your breath, hit the wall.
Scream out loud, as you start to crawl."

All I wanted for them was peace. They've hardened: she is no Silver of Talune, and Hers has seen more than she will ever admit openly to. They've...shattered. And it's all my fault. They are my responsibility: they're apart of my family. And I let the darkness swallow the both of them whole! Varanth's fangs gritted together, jaw clenching painfully shut as his eyes swirled over in rapid shades of misdirected fury at himself. This tragedy was his fault, as he saw it: no other had caused the lovely Silver pair's downfall but himself. It didn't matter that he had not been the one to send them away. It didn't matter that he had no authority over Black Sands and that he couldn't protect Basionath and Hers as he felt he should. None of it mattered because he hadn't done his job and now, now they were locked away in a place that he could feel in the marrow of his bones they loathed with all their hearts. Talons dug into the ledge of his weyr, an ebony tail twitching in rapid irritation as a stray stone lingering off to the side was struck, the seconds passing until it finally struck the ground below with a dull thud and a bout of dust to announce its descent had ended. I made a promise that I know is the only thing keeping Basionath tied to this place. She thinks she doesn't belong: she believes Talune has forgotten her...Have we really fallen so far, Mine?

The Weyrleader himself was perched on the edge of one corner of his dragon's ledge, barely able to fit for the dragon's girth engulfing the space around him. For all his strength, there were dragons stronger. Beings in Black Sands who could cripple his mighty Onyx. What would they do to a soul so pure as a Silver's? A sigh brushed past his lips as the man felt a tail curling around his body, forcibly lifting him up from the ground and placing him on his feet to stand unsupported by any but himself before retreating. With somber eyes, D'ron dragged his gaze upward to meet the Onyx's, the truth pooling out of his eyes before it managed to stumble onto his tongue. "We lost ourselves trying to secret the Weyr away as if it was the only haven for dragons and their riders who never quite fit expectations. We are the outcasts of Pern, perhaps delusional even in that our seclusion gives us immunity to the bloodshed and night terrors waiting behind each bend." The Onyx's skull lowered gradually until his eye level became even with his rider's, those swarthy depths lost away to an emotion the dragon was far too familiar with: remembrance. For those lost, for days long past, for the realization to return of what all exactly he had sworn to take solely on his shoulders. A rough hand lifted to stroke the ebony snout, D'ron turning his gaze to the Bowl below as he watched the dragons wander to and fro alongside their riders, an occasional flit breaking the endless pattern of the Weyr. "This place is paradise. And I intend to keep it that way as long as I have life in me."

Varanth's own gaze tilted skyward, maw hovering above D'ron's body below him. His eyes were unfocused, as if staring out at something far in the distance before he spoke. That is what I was afraid of. You'll die for these dragonmen you call your own, and I shall follow. We do no one any good dead though, my Own. We can only make the best of the situation at hand and wish for it to right itself as much as it can on its own before we need interfere. Faranth knows things tend to work out on their own eventually, and we may only guide it as far as it will allow before it isn't in our hands any longer. The beast's lids sheltered his optics for a matter of seconds, a curious grip tightening his muscles that he could not identify the longer he pondered upon it. It was as though he could hear tell of a whisper of sound brushing past his auds, though he knew none had spoken to disrupt the otherwise silent day. The more he allowed his thoughts to wander, the worse the nagging sensation became until, finally, His began to question the dragon of what ailed him.

Varanth uttered not even a breath of sound as he heaved his bulk around to the inside of the weyr, coming out some minutes later with his rising saddle tucked between two rows of fangs. As he dropped the mass of leather, a steely glint overcame his features, an unknown tension curling the sinews of his muscles as he awaited patiently for the right words to form on his tongue. Nazareth, you are needed. Come to the Bowl, now. D'ron had little desire to question his dragon as he attached the saddle, buckling all the straps before doing as told and tucking away his shoulder knots so that those of rank were carefully hidden. He did not ask why, merely clambered onto the back of his dragon before Varanth glided down into the Bowl and stared head on at the newly dubbed white. How better to prove herself than save another?

How might I get into Black Sands unnoticed, and where would I find Basionath and Hers if something ill were to have transpired between the two of them and their Weyrleaders?

[Desert]

Nazareth soaked up the warm Southern sun on her ledge. The nearly blinding silvery sheen to her hide had dimmed somewhat over the past few sevendays; barely noticeable, except if one knew what one were looking for. D'zel did, and he'd noticed. It didn't matter to him that his dragon was losing her radiance; she was still the most breathtaking dragon on Pern, as far as he was concerned.

More marked was the gradual loss of her extra abilities. Now, a strong mind could keep her out; the weaker minds of blues, greens and reds she could still invade, but above silvers and browns she was unable to gain entrance if the dragon wished it so. That was all to the better, as far as both white and rider were concerned. Okasrith had given her leave to borrow his eyes should she ask, and that was more than good enough for her. She could make it through wing drills with the friendly blue, and of course her dear D'zel.

The flat black star on her flank was still there, though. It stained her white hide, the mark of her birth Weyr. She loathed it, this symbol. It stood for all she hated in the world: all the treachery, all the hatred, all the cruelty. If she could but erase it! But that was not possible. Just as she could not draw her whiskers back into her head, and make eyes sprout from her skull. This thought she shied away from; the whiskers, the socketless skull, it was all a part of her. It was who she was! And yet, was the black six-pointed star not part of her as well, as permanent a fixture on her body as her whiskers?

As her Weyrleader's voice insinuated itself in her mind, Nazareth shook off those thoughts. What use were they? She should be concentrating on the present here in this Southern paradise, not dwelling on the morbid past!

D'zel walked up behind her. She crouched her forequarters to let him up; She barely had to hunch, so small was her white body. Her rider threw a leg over her shoulders and settled into the niche between dorsal ridges that seemed to have been made for him, the curves at the base of her neck designed for his legs. They belonged together, and even after two Turns, D'zel still could barely believe that he had the privilege to share his mind and his weyr with this wonderful creature.

Nazareth fell from her ledge, watching the ground rise up to meet them through D'zel's eyes, flaring her ungangly long wings to turn the fall into a graceful glide. She pulled up into a dainty landing, her white paws touching down with barely a puff of dust, at the same moment Varanth landed before her. She tilted her head back as if to gaze into the onyx's eyes.

Get into Bla--[/b][/color] Naz started to say, then cut herself off. Long-ingrained was the habit of not questioning her Weyrking, especially when he was in the sort of mood she now sensed eminating from the big dragon. Well, a good place might be the Meeting Hall. No one goes there except when there's going to be a meeting.[/b][/color] She pulled a mental image -- a composite of the many dragon and human eyes through which she'd seen of the place -- of the desired location and inserted it into Varanth's mind. And if they were unhappy with Basionath and Hers, they would have probably gotten them away from the Bowl and the weyrs. I can't say fur sure, they're too canny for me to predict with any hope of accuracy.[/b][/color]

She shrugged hopelessly. The only thing I can say for sure is that they're still on the island. No one they look on with disfavor dares fleeing the Weyr, if they want to come back and live,[/b][/color] Nazareth explained, her voice growing pale with fear. Then she lifted her head again from where it had hovered lower and lower from dejection, fanning her whiskers as she pointed her muzzle at the larger dragon. If they have hurt her again... I wish I could do something! I wish I could go! I would go with you if you wished me to, Varanth. But my powers have faded with my hide, I'm not as dangerous to them as I once was. I'm not much use anymore,[/b][/color] she admitted, whiskers drooping. She didn't mind the loss of her powers, except that she was becoming less and less effective against the others at Black Sands. She wished she could help! If wishes were fishes!

D'zel's hand rubbed soothingly over the silky white of her neck. He sent the white a wave of reassurance and love, which buyoed her up from the bleak despair. She creeled gratefully over her shoulder at her rider. Where would she be if not for D'zel? Lost long ago to between's black oblivion, certainly. She couldn't imagine life without the comforting presence of Hers, there in the back of her mind. He was the reason she did anything -- the reason she was away from her hellish birth Weyr, the reason she was here in this paradise.

She wanted to bury herself in the now, to forget the past. Just a few minutes before, she had been scolding herself for dwelling on what had been. Now her past was coming back to bite her, and Nazareth got the chilling feeling that this wouldn't be the last time ghosts from her past would come to haunt her. Would she never leave the legacy behind? An even more horrifying thought: would this cursed black star on her flank spread its curse? Would she turn out to be the instrument that brought ruin to this wonderful place? The notion made her knees weak.

Don't be silly! D'zel said forcefully. Nazareth, dear one, don't go thinking like that. Don't see demons where there are none. We left that lifestyle behind, remember?

His words helped to calm the rising panic, but she couldn't keep that insidious thought from persisting. What if -- oh shards, what if dolphins sprouted wings and started betweening? She shook her head to dispel the paranoia. Now was not the time to panic.


ooc; well, Melpomene surprised me. she's still no match for Calliope, but for me to get over 1000 is surprising. spazzy Muse of mine.[/size][/font][/color]

[Lyrikitty]

Of them, it was Katya who found the agonizing reality of conciousness first, her senses returning in waves that she wished would have never returned.

Pain blossomed, radiating from her skull, her bound arms, filling her mind with red. Her hair had fallen over her face, mated with cloying blood that seeped from her cheek and neck. Shivering, she tried to return to the bliss of nothingness, tried to turn her back on the land of the living only to find her wounds insufficient to classify her among the blessedly numb dead. As her body accepted the pain, dealt with it, adjusted, her mind reached out, searching for Basionath, worry tightening her chest and leaving little room for air. The Silver... If anything had happened to the Silver... She was sure Sio was alive yet, for she felt not the deep ache of loss, the shattering emptiness that would have been present had Basionath perished. But what extent did Xanturnoth injure the Silver?

Katya had no doubt that the Amber had hurt the lower-ranked female, to hope that Sio was unharmed was far to much, only that she was not mutilated beyond recognizition, that she would heal with time. With releif, Katya found the steady pulse of Sio's mind, not yet wakened fro m her own dark hole, but alive. A muted sigh escaped her lung as her muscles relaxed, going limp again.

With the assurance of the silver's existence, it was time to delve into her own injuries. Carefully, she opened her eyes, finding darkness, no light seeping into the room from above. It was night. Perhaps a good thing, for that meant her eyes would not be pained by the brilliant intensity when -if- she managed to free herself and emerge from the stoney depth. She craned her neck, tring to look at herself with no avail, and let her skull fall back to the ground with a dull thud, wincing at the act.

Who was she kidding? It was no use. Even if she could figure oput what she was able to, and what she wasn't, to do, there was not hope for freedom. To prove it to herself she strained against her bonds, the material biting into her skin until she went limp once more. no one knew they were here, and who would dare challenge D'myn over a silverpair, who had transfered in and done nothing to aide the Weyr since their arrival? A dry bark of a laugh burst from her chest, swiftly turning into sobs that shook her as her dark eyes gazed with mingled fury and fear at the place she knew the door to be. How long would they have to wait? How long would D'myn and Xanturnoth leave them here to rot before they returned to finish what they started?

But more importantly... Would she be able to stand another round, or two, of this? She had lasted this time, kept her mouth shut and refused to give away a word of information, but how long could she keep that up, how long until the knowledge that he would kill Basionath if it meant he could have Talune weighed too heavily on her shoulders and she caved?

Her heart sank as she admitted to herself the truth. Not long at all. She could deal with the physical torture, could deal with anything the wretched man threw at her, save for Sio. She could handle anything but the knowledge that Sio would die for naught, would perish in vain. And it would be Basionath who died first. Were they to kill Katya too early Sio would do nothing but Between, or perhaps go into a rage and try to kill Xanturnoth before Betweening, but either way she would be of no use after the rider was dead. If Sio went... When Sio went, Katya would be too broken to care, she would beg for her death and do anything to be granted the respite, the peace, of the dark abyss that came when one's heart ceased beating and when the lungs drew no more air into them.

Renewed tears, no longer for her own doomed fate, but for Talune, the paradise she so loved, Basionath's true home, and the symbol of all that was right with Pern. It too looked on at the same destiny she did, to be placed under the claws of the amber and rider and shattered, ripped apart and fed to the wolves, used as a stepping stone to place Black Sands that much higher up, that much more dangerous.

She couldn't let it happen. Even as she wept for the Weyr, her hands sought restlessly, brushing over the ground, hunting for anything she could use, anything sharp enough to end her life, and Basionath's on her terms and take with her the information she had, the secrets she had kept for the turns.

Basionath wouldn't know what happened, wouldn't suffer at all if she could just hurry. The silver would be gone in seconds, still unsurfaced from the darkness the Amber had inflicted. It was for the best, Katya swore to herself as her fingers curled around a shard of stone, the keener edge pressing against her palm. It was for the best, to let D'myn find her cold corpse when he returned, that which he so desired long gone, Sio safely away from Xanturnoth's vile touch. Yet... She found herself faultering, even as she turned the stone to place it against her wrist, she could not bring herself to add the needed pressure, holding still, thinking. Waiting. Maybe... Maybe there was another way?

She knew not her beloved had called out for aide in her last seconds of ability, had screamed with all her might for the one soul who had promised to help them if ever they needed it. How could she? Katya had been the first to go down, had already surrendered to the darkness when the call was made. Yet some small part of her refused to give in and allow her flesh to be opened and her blood to run freely, her life to race away and end as she lay alone in the dark, no one to hold her, no one to tell her that everything would be fine no matter how bad they were in reality. Had there ever been someone for that, for her? Had she ever given in and let another get so close to her, let them into her heart, showed them that she did need them, that she wasn't as strong as she acted? No. Always she had been alone, always she had been willing to face it without a guardian at her back, without a champion in her corner. Not until basionath did she even have another to call friend. She would wait, wait until D'myn sauntered back in, ready to do whatever he could to pry her secrets from her, before she acted. She'd wait until she could look into his eyes and laugh as he howled with frustration, let him know that she was not going to give in to him. She wanted to see it in his eyes, see defeat in them, if she couldn't have the comfort of a loved one at her side she'd settle for D'myn's rage and downfall.


((Wow, I'm shocked I got past the 400 marks, actually. Calliope's been MIA so I've been on my own.))

[Onyxaeon]

No use? Your help is everything I need at the moment. No Talune dragon is useless, dear Nazreth. Blind and powerless or not, no dragon is denied their chance to make their difference here. I am the living example of how far one can go if given the opportunity. That's exactly what I'm giving you at the moment: the opportunity to help me break past Black Sands guards to get to the Weyrhall. Basionath needs me. The Onyx leaned in closer, his head lowering to meet the newly deemed White at eye level. The agony in his voice was genuine, no man or beast could deny that were they to hear it, and the fact that such a large sky lord could be brought down by such a matter...The Weyrkings did care for their own. Or, at least Varanth did. But, perhaps he was different. After all, was not Talune the only Weyr at peace entirely and had remained so under his rule? Yes, he was different and in the best way possible for Pern and its inhabitants.

Beside the Onyx, D'ron stood nearly silent, his gaze going from his mount to the other rider. Where would the line be drawn for Black Sands? How many would die to sate their blood thirst? Arms crossed over a broad chest as the Weyrleader began to ponder outcomes, his Onyx partner too lost in his emotion to fathom all the angles for the while. How were they to get in? "D'zel, please, any information you have about how to get in safely would be of the greatest help. I don't want to go in blind but, I will if I have no other option. You know their numbers and you know the size of their males. Varanth will not fall, but he would not stand at even odds. Anything you can tell me within the next five minutes is more important than you could ever understand. We have to-" No, Mine. We have to leave now. We don't have the time to sit and debate about where to enter. If you are with us, fly with me. If not, stay behind. Either way, your wings are your own and I will not disagree with your choice, little one. D'ron had no choice on the matter of climbing aboard, Varanth placed him in his saddle. He did not give the command to launch. Varanth, too, did that of his own. Without so much as another word on the matter, or even a pause to wait for the little White if she chose to come, Varanth launched into the sky. His wide wings carried his weight and the unnoticeable addition of His without trouble: it was effortless and pure determination that drove him to action without reason or logic behind it. As the silken ebony curtains sliced through the air to climb, the beast gaining altitude, he blinked between, ready to face the entire of Black Sands if he had to. Hold on Basionath, dear one. I'm coming. I promised you I would...

[Desert]

Varanth's words heartened the little white, who mantled her lanky wings in readiness. Then we will go with you. D'zel and I know our way well around Black Sands.[/b][/color] Nazareth could easily hear the pain in her Weyrking's mind-voice, the imperative to go to the silver's aid. And though she didn't know Sio well, though she was frightened nearly out of her mind to be going back to her birth Weyr in her current state, she felt bound to assist Varanth. She and Hers could navigate Black Sands better than any other in Talune: it would have been shameful not to offer the onyx her services.

D'zel frowned thoughtfully as D'ron spoke to him, but Varanth forestalled the reply by leaping determinedly into the air. Naz scrambled after him, flapping valiantly to follow the great onyx beast, and once more showed him the coordinates for Black Sands' Meeting Hall. It would be night there as well, though being farther west than Talune was, the night where they were about to go would still be young. D'zel splayed both hands on the sleek white shoulders of his plucky little dragon, feeling the powerful flight muscles ripple under his touch, and fought back a surge of dread. Though he was just as willing as Nazareth to accompany Varanth to try and rescue Basionath, he was still unable to block out the images from the last time he'd been at Black Sands.

Don't think of that, my D'zel. Concentrate on the task at hand so we don't lose our nerve,[/b][/color] Naz said soothingly. He had to quirk a smile at her wording: however determined to help she was, they both knew that of D'zel had second thoughts, the little white wouldn't hesitate to flee to safety. But, since D'zel didn't plan on backing out, he grinned fiercely into the wind just before the icy void of between swallowed them up.

A familiar sight greeted the whitepair as they reappeared over the Meeting Hall. Varanth, would you please let me use your eyes? The more points of view I have, the better. The ones we have to worry most about here are Xanturnoth, the wildfires who support him, and their collective troop of miseries. Some of those miseries are upwards of thirty Turns, and could easily take all six of us down. I'm sure, if the oldest miseries all worked in unison, they would easily be able to kill us with telepathy alone. But Xanturnoth will not let them -- he will want to kill us himself. The wildfires will direct their miseries from the rear if they can help it. I do not know if Basionath and Hers are near here, but this is where I had us arrive because it is the most easily accessable for our purposes.[/b][/color] Naz banked into a wide, slow spiral on the cold night air as she bespoke her onyx Weyrking; only the subtle trembling of her wings indicated her trepidation at having returned to Black Sands. D'zel stroked her shoulders to calm her, but since he wasn't far from quivering in fear himself, it didn't help.
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[Lyrikitty]

The words that rang into her mind, determined, woeful, filled with promise, woke her. Woke her to a blinding pain that was not her own, no she was barely scratched, but to the pain that had settled itself into Katya, had coiled firm fingers around the woman's heart and body.

The rider expected death. Sio knew this even before she knew she could still breathe, could open her eyes and see, mostly. A haze of red had seeped over one eye from the scratch gifted by the wretched Xanturnoth. She knew that Katya, wherever she was, was waiting for death, and Sio mourned, her voice rising to keen pitiously. Hers was in pain, but made no sound, Hers...

For the first time, a new side of Katya was revealed to even the Silver, who had so faithfully stuck by her rider no matter what may come, who had turned away from the girl which, by all rights she would and would have impressed for this woman. She had known instantly that Katya would have done anything for a Silver, but... somewhow a part of her had thought it a mere expression. The woman was devious, no matter what changes she made in herself she still had a cunning mind, and while in Black Sands it balanced the sweet Silver, it could be dangerous. As Basionath glimpsed into this revealed heart of secret hearts, she found a new depth of love, of devotion. Katya was devoted to Talune, and to Sio, above all else. To protect those two things, to keep them from harm, there was nothing out of the question, no matter to extreme.

Sio was looking into Katya's mind as the woman planned her actions carefully, waited for footsteps, waited to see D'myn's face, so that she could show him just what she thought of him, of everything he stood for and wanted to destroy.

Her head tilted up, and her darkened hide seemed to wash pale with angst. Her claws scrabbnled as she tried to pull her legs beneath her, shivering, and shoved herself to a shakey stance. This wasn't right! Her head tilted back as she prepared to scream to the heavens and demand retribution, but her cry was silenced as a pale figure appeared. A Misery. Her maw snapped shut, not sound falling from her vocals, as she froze, muscled tensed. Was Xanturnoth on his way back to finish what he started?

She sank slowly back to the flat stone, though her eyes never left the pale figure in the sky. It was too dark for her to easily pick out the dark dragon that accompanied it, and her mind was too filled with fear to even hope her plea had really been heard. Oh, she'd heard the response, heard the promise of help on it's way, butit hadn't proccessed, hadn't reached her mind that so swiftly her Onyx friend would appear, or that the tiny Naz would accompany him.

Katya's eyes flickered from the direction of the entrance, looking up as if she could see Sio, as the Silver woke. Sio... What was happening up there? She could sense the anxiety of the dragon, the fear, and the strange devotion they had shared from the moment of Impression. Maybe D'myn had returned? Shge hoped they wouldn't hurt Sio any further, though it was unlikely such mercy woud be granted. Sio... sio if you can hear me, darling... sio calm down. Her mental voice was shockingly calm, it did not waver, as she had expected, but was steady, soothing.

Mine... Katya I am sorry. I have failed you in every way that a dragon should never fail it's lifemate. Forgive me, for I once doubted you, I once thought you were not Mine.[/color]

Sio, listen to me. You will fly. Fly as far as you can, and do not look back. Get away from here so they cannot hurt you. they... they are going to do far worse than this when they come back, my love. If you remain here they will have what they want, one way or another. Between dear, escape to that abyss and spare yourself. Hre gaze fell from the ceiling and back to the entrance, her eyes closed against the dark reality.

NO! I will not leave you, Mine! I cannot leave you![/color]

Basionath, if ever you doubted that you were meant for me, you were right to. Do not stay here because you think you owe anything, do not stay because you worry for me. It will be harder if I know you will suffer for even a second after I'm gone, and I won't give D'myn the joy of winning. Do this... Do this for me, Sio, do it for Talune.

A silence fell between them, and each mourned, knowing they were about to loose eachother eternally. The Silver rose to her paws once more, wishing she possessed the same frightening strength that Katya's voice held, wishing even more that she could see her rider for a final time.

I do it for you, not for Talune or any other. You are Mine, and I an yours.[/color] The Silver stretched her wings and crouched, faultering as she shoved off and rowed her wings somberly through the air. She would do as she was told, and she'd make sure they all saw her, those who watched form above.

I love you Basionath, my angel. The Silver would have relpied, but she had drawn closer in her unsteady flight to the Misery, and as she did she saw th dulled color, the lost sheen. Dumbstruck, she saw the dark figure accompanying the little dragon, and sank back to the ground like a stone, landing heavily in shock, silent, with Katya questioning, growing worried, in her mind. Help had come.

[Onyxaeon]

Yes, use whatever you must. Anything. Everything. The Onyx followed the former Misery down, allowing her to be his guide as the two settled down, trying to remain relatively unnoticeable and, at the same time, appear to belong in this entirely foreign land where hatred brewed endlessly like the hidden Rukbat and scorched just as mercilessly as thread did to bare flesh. D'ron, nestled safely upon the Onyx beast's thick neck, scanned the area out of habit, his eyes trying to adjust to the light as Varanth, too, searched the immediate surroundings to check for the all clear and, at the same time, giving Nazreth a better view of what was going on. An icy wind whipped the flesh of the Southern Weyrleader, the man biting back a shiver as, being native to the warmer Southern Continent, he was not used to such a bitter winter. Just as the Northerners were not used to the heat.

"D'zel, where are we exactly?" D'ron prompted, the man gritting his teeth as another chill swept across his spine. How could any human alive live in this! "We haven't even spotted the Watch dragon or-" He is over there, Mine. Ssh. I saw the shift change but, thankfully, the Post is away from our sight so they are blind to us. Allow your eyes to adjust, Mine. I am. It's the cold that has my thoughts muddled. Nazreth, I trust you saw that change of guard through my vision. What I need to know now is how do we get from here to the Weyr Hall without being detected? I'm not concerned with a watch dragon-they cannot see us if we stick close to this wall-but what if one is to rouse? I have my hide coloring on my side, but you are a bit less fortunate. Are you sure you do not want to stay behind here and guide me away from the chaos that may ensue? The Weyrking awaited the white's reply, his eyes never ceasing to scan the Bowl or air all the while for fear of being discovered. His caution paid off. Out of the corner of one eye, he caught sight of a dragon frame moving gingerly through the air, his muscles tensing in apprehension before they could register coloring or anything of the sort.

Basionath.

D'ron felt the change in his dragon before he could fully comprehend what he saw. Basionath? She was okay, or so it appeared. But, where was Katya? Oh no...If Basionath was without her rider...The worst began to creep into the Weyrleader's thoughts, but Varanth pushed them firmly out. She was alive because her Silver was. It did little to ease the tightening gripping the lungs of the man.

I promised. Varanth whispered faintly, his eyes bearing out from the abyss of the night to reach out to the Silver who once called the Talune sands her home.

[Desert]

Naz landed on the roof of the Meeting Hall as D'zel shuddered with a violence that was not entirely due to the abrupt transition from muggy Southern summer to icy Northern winter. "We're literally on the Meeting Hall," he told D'ron, pointing down to the bare stone under the paws of their dragons. Nazareth still had her talons unsheathed, her tail lashing tensely, wings mantled and whiskers bristling. She did not like being here in the slightest, but she did pick up the narrative from her rider as Varanth cut His off. This place is used as the Weyrhall; why, I don't know, but it is called the Meeting Hall because official meetings are held here.[/b][/color] She was careful to specify "official" meetings, because she well knew that more clandestine gatherings took place elsewhere on the island. And if it turns out that Basionath and Hers are anywhere closer to the Weyr, it would be best if I remained here, at least in body, because I am practically defenseless. If you need to get around the Weyr, I will guide you from here.[/b][/color]

But further exploration, it seemed, was unnecessary. Nazareth crooned when she, through Varanth's eyes, spied Basionath. She touched the silver's mind gently, knowing that her sudden appearance in the sky must have worried Sio, before it became clear that she was not as other miseries anymore. Basionath! Where is Yours? We must hurry, before we are spotted.[/b][/color] She wished she could greet the silver properly, but the situation was urgent. D'zel jumped off his dragon's back and went to the edge of the Hall's roof, then leaped onto the ground. Since Basionath was here, it probably meant that Katya was nearby. But in what condition was questionable, other than the fact that she lived.

ooc; Melpomene is being lazy again. >_>[/font][/color][/size]

[Lyrikitty]

I... I do not know where she is. I think she is below, but Xanturnoth made me close my eyes, and His made Katya close her's. They couldn't have gone far though. I fear for her, be carful, please. She means to keep what she knows from him at all costs... She wants me to [/iBetween. The Silver looked from Onyx to White, and then to the riders. Her voice was not closed form any of them, all four able to hear each word spoken by her worried voice. Her eyes wheeled colors of concern and fear, not for herself, but for Hers.

She means to wait until he returns, and to kill herself. She'll do it as soon as she hears footsteps. I don't understand though... Why?[/color] Sio made her way to the two dragons, closing the distance so she could peer at Varanth closely, as if to reassure herself she was not dreaming. No, she was not. He was real, Naz was real. I can try to tell her, but I don't know if she will listen to me.[/color] She paused, and spoke only to Varanth. I do not know if she will trust it is me, speaking of my own will. I never knew how strong she was, is. She isn't afraid, she'd mad, she's hurt, but she isn't afraid.[/color]

She dropped her head, closing her eyes as she tried to speak to Katya, to find a shock. The woman's mind was close doff entirely, solid walls, impossible to break through, walled the Silver out. The very same fortress which had blocked out the other hatchling who had tried to Impress the girl as a candidate, when she went from Weyr to Weyr as a spy, undetected, unknown. It had been a curious thing to the Silver, that someone who was suited to many different colors of many different Weyrs had failed to Impress, but she understood fully now. ordlessly she looked back at Varanth and D'ron and shook her head. No luck, she couldn't get in to offer even a single word.

Katya had indeed walled her mind from intrusion, worried that Basionath would not do as asked, would try and talk Katya out of her choice. It was the only way to have a choice though, to die no her own terms, not those of any other. She heard the noise above of weight on the stone, and braced herself, dark eyes tainted with a hate of everything this Weyr was, everything it had turned Sio into. Hair, matted by clotting blood, hung in her face, her cheek and neck stained crimson, her lips coated with dried blood from the teeth she'd spit out. Sio hadn't Betweened which Katya could only assume meant the worst. Xanturnoth and D'myn had returned, and had caught the Silver, and they were going to hurt her. Again. Rage boiled in her mind, clouding her vision and her thoughts, and had she the strength she would have forced herself up and freed herself, only to charge out there and attack the Weyrleader with no avail.

She had to rid those thoughts, force them away, keep everything clear and simple. It was for Sio, for her beloved Silver above all else. For Talune, whioch she and Basionath both loved so dearly. For -odd as it was to think of him at this time- D'ron and his Onyx, who worked so hard to protect Talune from evil. Her breathing steadied, and she waited, a cornered prey who was not willing to go down without a fight.

[Onyxaeon]

Ssh, Basionath. It's alright now. The Onyx's voice was solely for the Silver, even His being cut out of the conversation as he took a small step forward, one wing half extending as if to beckon her closer. She was frightened, and he could not blame her. Katya was lost somewhere inside the Weyr, and the Silver did not know where. She was waiting for death and shut off from the only link that could possibly help her. And he could do nothing but want to ease her pain: she was apart of his Weyr, and he would take care of his own in whatever sense they needed. Come closer, and get out of view from the Weyrbowl. We'll find a way to get her out of here but, right now, we need to get you safe and cared for.-You're going to fall down if you don't let the shock calm and get warmer. Nazareth, come closer and get Yours back here. We can't risk being spotted. The Onyx allowed His to slip down from his body, the man formulating a plan, this apparent by his pacing back and forth like a beast held behind iron bars. Mine, what are you planning?

"I could go in. Basionath, Nazareth, I need you to tell me everything about your Lower Caverns and the drudges you know there. I'm going to go find Katya, and hopefully not be too noticeable." The Weyrleader stripped off his rider's jacket, the shoulder knots dropping with the jacket as he took a moment to strip off the wide rider's belt as well, dropping it along with everything else of him that could be considered rank worthy. The only way he was going to pull this off was if he adapted the personality of those here, and could prove true to what little knowledge he knew of Black Sands so that he did not seem out of place. "Nazareth, if I give you my eyes, can you guide me about mentally or rely it to Varanth so that he may? I will be terribly out of place without this aid." The rider took his time to go over himself once more, even trying to prepare himself mentally for the task with which he was going to attempt. It was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, but he had to try. With Varanth's help, the man was lifted up and down a good chunk of the Bowl's wall, being careful in his descent down the sharp slopes and moving gradually to make sure he dislodged no stones and alerted others of his presence. He was striding swiftly across the expanse of the grassy surface to escape being out in the open. I need a fake name: now.

[Desert]

Naz creeled sympathetically at the silver. How brave was Katya, to make such a sacrifice for the sake of Talune, and how brave of both of them for holding up under whatever torture Xanturnoth and D'myn had inflicted upon them. She was glad she and D'zel had come, however little use they were at the moment.

D'zel was leaning into the entrance of the Meeting Hall, listening hard. Nazareth still had very keen telepathy, though not the strength it had been; strong enough to easily sense unshielded minds. She couldn't sense any open minds besides their group until one got to the Weyr itself, but with Katya's mind locked tight there was no way the little white could sense her. Still, D'zel had a gut feeling that the silverrider was close. He couldn't see or hear anything from inside the hall, but that meant little. "Katya? Katya, are you there? It's D'zel, D'ron and I came to get you and Basionath out of here," he called down, hoping his loud stage whisper would carry to Katya. It wasn't loud enough for anyone not in the immediate area to hear, so the sentries wouldn't be alerted by his voice.

But before he could call again, Naz reached down to tug on his jacket. Mine, come back up here, please.[/b][/color] Obediently the whiterider hauled himself back onto the stone roof, and swung back onto Nazareth's lean back. They both felt better with D'zel astride his dragon. Naz walked up until she was standing almost directly under Varanth's head, then turned her whiskered face toward D'ron. Drop your shields as if to let Varanth see what you do, and I can use your sight to guide you. The drudges here are for the most part either too cowed or too stupid to do much besides their assigned duties, though for all me and Mine know he might have some spies among the drudges. Go carefully, Weyrleader.[/b][/color] She transferred to Varanth a myriad of images and snippets of memory from the times she and D'zel had been in the Caverns, so that the great onyx could use them to aid his rider.

ooc; Melpomene is gone. TT^TT sorry folks.[/font][/size]

[Lyrikitty]

A voice. Calling her name. Could it be? Could help be here, or was this a cruel trick? She couldn't tell, didn't dare hope that it was really someone come to help her, to save her. No. D'myn had gone and fetched someone else to try and toy with her further. She ground her teeth, and narrowed her eyes, wishing she could see, wishing she could know what was happening above her. Who was there? She couldn't hear any agonized shrieks from her angel, her Sio. Had they silenced her in some way, forced her to keep from making any sound to warn her rider? She struggled to force herself up, first sitting, then to her knees, and finally... Finally standing.

She was weak, and she leaned on the wall with a hiss of pain through gritted teeth. She should try to free her arms of the binds, if nothing else. So she could be sure of her aim when she started cutting. Perhaps even drive the sharp stone into her very heart, let it truly be broken then as she fell to the ground. How ironic it would be.

She carefully turned her make-shift weapon in her head, stretching and working it around until she felt it press against the leather thong which bound her arms. Who knew ,maybe if she could free her hands she could attack D'myn, kill him and with him his Amber. Doubtful, nearly impossible even to think, but it was a possibility which gave her strength. She sawed at the leather, arms strained against it and made her progress, until she felt it give way. The victory was slight though, for as the binds broke her hand slipped, the sharp edge sliding up her arm and opening a long gash. She yelped, the pain unexpected, and dropped the stone, bringing her arm around to clasp it in her free hand and hiss.

She was certain anyone outside would have heard that pained sound, and if they were enemy they'd surely be suspicious, thinking her up to something. She knelt, feeling about for the stone again, and found it, damp with blood. She gripped it tightly, and pressed herself against the wall, sitting against it and glaring in the direction of the door. She was getting light-headed again, and she wondered if D'myn hadn't given her a concussion or fractured her skull when he'd slammed her head down. She wouldn't be surprised. He was strong after all, and he wasn't known for his kindness.

"Come on then, D'myn. Come on and see what you've earned yourself, you tunnelsnake. Or maybe you realized you're not half the Weyrleader Talune has. Is that it, coward? You can't face me because you finally realized how pathetic you are?" Her voice was shaking, breaking randomly and hoarse, noted with rises and falls of pain. If it was D'myn, she'd provoke him, make him come down here sooner so she could end it.

Sio's head shot up as she heard Katya's insults to who she thought was above. The woman was at least sane enough to speak, though the words were taunting, provoking. Did... Did that mean Hers wanted D'myn to go down? It was confusing, terrifying ,and the Silver whimpered, dipping her head to try and clear the vision of one eye, wiping away the ichor from the slash above it. Katya was beneath them, in the Meeting Hall, and D'myn was gone. It was almost too easy, but then again... The Black Sands Weyrleader had no reason to be suspicious, did he? He knew not of the help which had come, or that Sio would wake so soon.

She shifted back and forth, looking to the entrance of the dark stone room, and then to her companions, eager for Hers to be at her side again, to see for herself that the woman was alive and relatively unharmed.

[Onyxaeon]

D'ron's mind flooded with images of hallways, narrow passages, the kitchens, and various other tidbits that the little Nazareth had pieced together for him. Varanth had channeled these images to his rider as he sat patiently curled around the Silver Basionath. An ebony wing curled around the smaller Talune dragon, his great wedged shaped skull lowering to brush faintly against the top of her own. Breathe, Basionath. Mine will find Yours. She will return to you alive and well. Of this, I swear. With this, the Onyx turned his orbs to the WatchPost in the distance across the Weyrbowl as His finally found cover in the caverns. No movement. Yet. All is well still, Mine. The Watchdragons did not catch you passing by, and Basionath is calming. Be swift; Hers does not seem to be in the best of minds from what I gather from Basionath. She very well could attack you and not register who you are until she has wounded you. Be quick and silent, but cautious above all. If Faranth wills it, I will do just that. Keep watch and alert me to any change, no matter how simple.

The Weyrleader passed through the entrance of the Lower Caverns, trying to sort through the onslaught of mental images being gifted to him from Nazareth via Varanth. Aside from the occasional glow, there was nothing D'ron came across; the cavers were relatively deserted. He turned into a long hallway, passing by several storage rooms before making a left, a turn he had seen from the White's memories. It should be here somewhere...Bootsteps echoing from behind him caused D'ron to pause, the breath stalling in his lungs. Too heavy for a female. He turned abruptly, rounding a corner and ducking behind it. A few minutes passed, and the steps faded. False alarm. Cautiously, the faux drudge probed his list of locations, questioning Varanth if he could get Nazareth to filter her images and send only ones that would lead him out of his hall. Without such a filter, he would be running blind.

Is that better, Mine?
Much. A few more halls should get me there, and no one encountered yet. Is there any movement from the Bowl? The Onyx's reply was encouraging, but still this left Katya alone and expecting D'myn at any moment. At this point, a wandering, suspicious drudge was the least of his worries. From Varanth's earlier words, she was unstable and liable to lash out at any soul, even one who had come to help her. Best to be careful.
Tell Basionath to try to reach Hers again.
Basio, please try again to reach Yours. The Onyx wrapped the wing already twined around the Silver tighter, assuring her as best as he could. Mine is close, he believes, and though Katya may not intend it, she may very well put a blade in Mine. Something for which I can not allow.

"Katya?" D'ron's voice filtered through one of the open rooms, and again he called as he stumbled across a closed door. This would drag attention to him, he knew well, but he could not afford to wait any longer. At least his voice was not loud enough to echo through the stone walls...hopefully.

[Desert]

Nazareth kept her attention split: half of it was taken up scanning their surroundings with all her senses to make sure they weren't going to be spotted and attacked. The other half of her attention went to helping D'ron navigate the hallways with a few helpful images and a gentle mind-touch to keep him on track. D'zel helped with the former, though his night-vision didn't have half the sharpness as Nazareth's various senses.

While Nazareth was helping D'ron sort through the jumble of images she'd foisted on him, D'zel's gaze was drawn by movement from Basionath. He'd idly kept glancing at her, in case something happened to Katya to which the silver would react. He noticed her attention drawn to the entrance into the Meeting Hall. Frowning in concentration, he inclined his head, tapping Naz's shoulder so she would listen in as well. Having far keener hearing than her rider, nazareth was able to make out Katya's words.

The little white barely stopped from scrambling down into the room. I heard her... I think she is below,[/b][/color] she told Varanth, her bewhiskered head dipping in a gesture toward the Meeting Hall, on whose roof she still stood. [/i][/b][/color]Though from the sound of it, she still thinks D'myn is toying with her.[/i][/b][/color]

D'zel shifted his weight, as if to dismount. He wanted to go down there and investigate. It would be safer, in all likelihood, since there didn't seem to be anyone inside besides Katya. He wouldn't have put it past D'myn to station a misery inside, but if there had been anyone below, they would have noticed the intruders as soon as they'd appeared in Black Sands' airspace.

ooc; lsdkjfakjlh short. TT^TT[/size]