It's Just You & Your Hand Tonight

[Onyxaeon]

ooc// I couldn't wait to post this, but it's locked until it can be placed at an appropriate time.

>~>Angel((of))Mercy<~<

Weeks of proddiness had left the Weyr in a foul mood, Isionyth torturing anything that had a pulse when she could get the chance and being none too kind about bothering to not cause too much carnage to her victims. None were immune to her violent mood swings, as even her own rider could not escape the irrational tirades that the Brimstone would go into if she did not get the little snack she wanted or could not sun for the fact it was cloudy and, even after she had told him to try knowing it was impossible, that Xanntorith could not move the clouds and allow her to bask in the warmth that would rain down in sheets. The poor flits of the Weyr cowered as the usually tolerant (this being such a loose and off definition of what Isionyth truly was with the smaller of her kin) queen tried to bite their tails off as they passed by her when she took up resting along the Slopes. Indeed, the Weyr was in a state of hushed apprehension, each candidate betting a good sum of marks on when the mother of their future hatchlings would take to the skies, and those who knew better than to think anything predictable about the senior queen would merely laugh at the antics and move on with their duties. It was a folly thing to do much of anything against her, and those who knew best said nothing when Isionyth was approached by several rather brave (or stupid) candidates questioning her about her upcoming Rising one day around mid-day. The queen lifted her head, her lips curling upward in a snarling fashion as she was instantly on guard and irate. How dare you tell me when to Rise! Needless to say, no one had spoken about the incident or the candidate who had not gotten out of the way fast enough and was now minus two fingers with a gash across his lower abdomen. That had been over a seven day and a half ago, and everyone was biting their nails for the tension lingering about, the entire event having awaited a storm that was rapidly coming in as the gloomy day began to turn into near ebony navy blue skies with sickly winds churning the air. Of course a Brimstone would choose to fly in the middle of a monsoon.

Upon her ledge, Isionyth lay uncomfortably, splayed across the entire of the ledge with her skull resting upon clawed paws as she looked over and out into the Bowl as the wind howled in the distance, the ominous crack of thunder a firm reminder that both man and beast should head indoors. But she didn't care for the warning mother nature intended her ears to hear. No, she had other plans written in her crimson orbs as she watched the runner beasts being quickly brought back into their pins and the heading animals in the feeding grounds being led away into the Lower Caverns for their safety. The fools were leading away her meal! A malevolent bugle seized her vocal chords as she clambered to her feet, a monstrous roar screamed at the absolute precipice of her range of pitch tormenting the ears of those below her, sending the beasts frantically ignoring their herders in an attempt to escape the angered voice from up above. The violent tendencies of Isionyth as of late had become common place to the ears of her Mine, though this new degree of temper did manage to drag the woman from her bed to pad across the Weyrleader's weyr once she had gathered up a silken robe with which to cover herself. The impending rain had coaxed the perpetually exhausted Weyrwoman into taking off to bed early but, apparently, that was in the agenda for today or even tonight.

"What is it, love?" Vsiasi questioned in a light yawn as she came to the ledge her dragon was close to leaping off of, her talons hanging over the edge with her neck outstretched and her body crouched down low, ready to spring. The woman placed a tender hand on the Brimstone's flank, the dragon's skull whirling around at the contact and raging a demand as to why she had been touched. Vsiasi did not flinch; did not so much as draw in a sharp breath as she allowed her dragon to finish her rant. When the queen was done, the young woman merely stated softly, "I only came to check on you as you seemed distressed. If you are bothered with something, let me fix it or send someone to fetch Xanntorith while he was doing his drills with the wings. He should be back soon enough in any case, and then you can order him about and have him end this apparent thorn in your side." The Brimstone snorted heavily, her wedged head shaking in mocking approval. Oh yes, there's an idea! Send the blundering fool to fix something he doesn't understand. I don't want him near me. I don't want anyone near me right now. I can't stand sitting here with the world in what should be only my mood. No one deserves the right to be so realistic aside from me, and the rest of Pern can take a one way trip between for all I care right now! Shard them all and may their young be cursed with a dozen deformities! I want out of here. I want to feel the thunder boil my blood and the rain wash away every tormented thought that has plagued my mind over these past few weeks. I want everyone to know that there are dragons and riders who will not fall to the damnable abyss that has been made of Pern by Black Sands. I want everyone to know that I wont fall. The queen sent a thunderous bugle into the air that was echoed by an equally fierce crack of thunder, the rain answering her siren call as she flared her wings, nearly knocking Her's off of the ledge as she dove down into the Bowl, her pinions striking out as the first of the rain drops began to pelt down and another, challenging roar drowned out the storm itself as she moved to take out a strong buck from the terrified herd below her as she circled, Vsiasi screaming into the mind of her Bonded as she shouted orders to a Dusk and her Mine to go fetch the wings and bring them home for a Flight.

Don't you DARE touch that beast's meat, Isionyth! Blood it, you insane flit! The queen hissed her defiance as she torn from the skies, the rain beginning to pick up as it struck her burning body, attempting to lick the flames that scorched her volcanic hide to no avail. She did not care for what any had to say aside from herself as she struck the animal down, her barbed tail slicing the legs out from under a wherry and dragging the bleeding body closer to her. Blood them both, Isionyth! Blood them and prove you're as strong as you say you are! That did it. The queen's tail launched an assault at the fence, the wooden posts flying about to scatter the Bowl, fauna swarming the newly open space as the female began to devour the blood of her first two kills, striking out and successfully draining two other bucks before finding finally satisfaction with a smaller wherry. She could fly now. She could fly far and fast and they would never catch her for their slow wing strokes that could never quite match the flawless beauty of her own. With this thought in mind, Isionyth launched into the air, her cry ringing for miles as the rain began to drench the surrounding lands. You don‘t really wanna mess with me tonight, boys.

[Desert]

Bnath, keep to your wedge![/b][/color] Xann scolded an overexcited solar who was performing his drills with unnecessary enthusiasm, which caused him to deviate from the wing's formation, and had nearly singed the flanks of one of his wingmates. The chrome he'd almost flamed aimed a scornful hiss over her shoulder at the male, who bristled. Can't stay in formation, can I?[/b][/color] Bnath demanded indignantly. I will have you know, Xann, that Kiilyth seems to think I am a cut-rate Threadfighter. I'm trying to--[/b][/color]

Xann cut off the solar's tirade curtly. Only fools rise to the bait of other fools, Bnath, so cool it. Ignore Kiilyth and she will stop. Kiilyth, you keep your snide comments to yourself. Don't take your hormones out on him, he might not chase you when you Rise.[/b][/color] The big tempest hissed a snicker at the embarrassment radiating from both Bnath and Kiilyth at that comment. Everyone in the wing knew that the chrome and solar were smitten with one another. The two were newly graduated, and Kiilyth would soon Rise for the first time; the buildup of hormones in a generally waspish color like chromes was always wearing on everyone's patience, especially for a first-timer.

N'yx chuckled and slapped his dragon's shoulder. Xann tilted his head back to grin unrepentantly at the Weyrleader. Both of them were rather relieved to be out of the Weyr, drilling with the wings. Today's exercises were more centered around getting the newest wingriders acquainted with their positions in the full-fledged wings, so N'yx and Xann were more supervisors than participants. Usually it was the Weyrlingmaster who hovered on high to observe, as the tempestpair liked being able to drill with the new riders in their own wing, but since Muuth was grounded, N'yx took Sh'kith's place. This was a welcome relief from being stuck in the Weyr with a very proddy Isionyth liable to lash out for no apparent reason; the tension lately had been unbearable for the already high-strung Xanntorith, who begged his rider to escape given any excuse at all.

N'yx inhaled deeply, squinting into the distance where a wall of towering, angry black clouds was building. "Smells like a storm," he remarked absently. The moistness of rain and the unique scent of ozone meant that this was going to be a monster. "We'll probably have to pack it in early." Xann rumbled in disappointment at this news, but since he was just as reluctant as his rider to be caught out in bad weather, he didn't argue. The Weyrking enjoyed storm-watching as much as anyone else, but he knew that flying in a storm was idiotic at best, and suicidal at worst. He should have known better than to think Isionyth would postpone her biological plans for something trite like a thunderstorm.

Xanntorith! Raenith! Draselth! Come quickly, bring the rest, Isionyth Rises![/b][/color] dusk Mihayth squealed as she blinked into existence, her typical serene demeanor now fractured by excitement, her eyes wheeling with specks of a concerned lavender. It was a good thing that Isionyth was finally Rising, but to do so just as a major storm broke over the Weyr like this?

Xann and the other Wingleaders' and some of the Seconds' tempests and bronzes turned to stare at the dusk, bewildered. Surely she wasn't serious. But the little dusk was perfectly solemn as she repeated her message, urging the kings to return to the Weyr before Isionyth took to the skies without them. Xann let loose with a bellow that got all their attention. You hear her! Kings, come with me, we shall time it a few minutes back so we can have time to blood. The rest of you, finish whatever maneuver you were in the middle of with the guidance of your remaining Seconds. You know the drill.[/b][/color] The Weyr's kings gathered around Xann while the big tempest glided a distance away from the rest of the wings, then took them between with coordinates of the familiar Weyrbowl, though with the impending storm still several minutes away. The other tempests and bronzes followed him eagerly. Though they always competed against him in every Senior queenFlight, they every one were grateful that Xann was as fair as he was; he didn't have to transfer all of them in time, he could just leave them to return normally, and risk being left far behind.

The small group reappeared and glided down into the Bowl, touching down just as Isionyth uttered her first irate bellow in protest to the weyrfolk leading the fodderbeasts to safety. N'yx leaped down from his dragon's back, not bothering to mess with the fighting straps, and jogged away from the half-deserted pens to let Xann feed unobstructed. The big tempest immediately buried his maw into the throat of a big herdbeast, sucking the blood from it, discarding it and snatching up a squawking wherry with the alacrity of one who survived a famine. He and the other kings blooded frantically for a moment or two, until Isionyth descended upon them, at which point most of the younger males abandoned the feeding grounds to the brimstone. Xann and one or two others only took themselves to the other end of the grounds to be well out of her way, but still get a chance to fill up on rich, hot lifeblood. The feeding ones ignored the fat raindrops splashing them, though the younger set eyed the sky warily, watching the roiling clouds and exchanging concerned looks.

Xann dropped his last herdbeast when Isionyth launched herself into the stormy sky with a shriek. The big tempest also leaped onto the bucking, wild wind after his mate, eyes blazing with a determined glint among the hot oranges and reds. Yes, he was Weyrking, but right now his standing within the Weyr was up for grabs. If one of the kings flying around him right now were to surpass him, if isionyth were to favor another king over him, his stint as Weyrking would be over, at least until she Rose again. Xann was well aware of this; he knew it with every fiber of his being whenever Isionyth Rose. He wasn't like some males who, when they chased, were secure and sure of their success; while it was said that previous Flights always told, Isionyth was one queen who had a habit of butchering certain favored adages. Xann knew he had to never take his position for granted and always give his all if he wanted N'yx to remain Weyrleader.

Xanntorith had to gape a slight grin at Isionyth's sullen warning. Few of Solainoti's dragons really ever did want to mess with her, even on a good day. Look at the behavior of the majority of the kings, who were about the same age as Isionyth herself. Most of them were so wary of her temper that they did everything they could to be away from the Weyr for almost a sevenday before her Flights. It was the older, steadier beasts like Xann who were able to take their queen's antics in stride, though even some closer to Xann's age were still quite wary of the waspish brimstone. Xann was one of the few who ever dared to toe the line with Isionyth's finnicky temper; though, granted, he was the one forced into such situations the most since he was Weyrking.

There was something to be said about that: he had Flown Isionyth every time since she first Rose to become Senior, and had been the former Senior Naesth's mate for longer even than that. And so far, hadn't he sired good, strong clutches? Hadn't he proved himself and his rider to be worthy of the post? Hadn't N'yx steered the Weyr well? It wasn't for the glory of being Weyrking that Xann flew: it was because he believed, deep in his heart, that he and N'yx were the best ones for the job. If it looked like another king and rider would make even better leaders than them, and if that king could prove himself, Xann would accept the new leadership graciously. He and His had been Wingleader before, there was no great shame in holding that rank. But by Faranth, any new Weyrking would have to work damn hard and best Xann before he gave up his title!

Xanntorith surged after Isionyth into the turbulent skies, spreading his wings to their maximum and hoping beyond hope that they didn;t tempt fate too much by flying in this storm. Lightning crackled through the clouds not far above him, tracing a white-hot vein through the dark clouds. It was as if the elements were providing camouflage for Xann and the other tempests; their gray-mottled hides streaked with pale colors mirrored almost exactly the boiling clouds above them.
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[Dragonmage]

A rather surprising contender betweened into the sky above the Weyrbowl. Despite the fact that the flight had been announced as open, it was rather improbable that kings from other Weyrs would participate. But there he was, a Crystal Caverns bronze, in Solainoti skies. Otelth quickly dove toward the group of riders and T'mo slid off the bronze's now rain-spattered neck and climbed off his impatient dragon. Otelth flew toward the herdbeasts and snatched one to blood. Fangs sank easily into the beast's throat and opened up the jugular vein. He took a cue from the dragons more familiar with Isionyth and blooded well away from the moody brimstone.

Go on, Otelth, give it your best try.

Jogging through the rain, T'mo called out, "I'm T'mo of Crystal Caverns Weyr and rider of bronze Otelth." It was their Weyr after all and they had not had to open any flight, let alone that of their Senior Queen. Not introducing himself and his dragon would be impolite at best and bad enough to get his Weyr out of this Weyr's good graces at worst.

Otelth had not blooded as fast as the native dragons and had barely started his third beast when the queen took to the sky. He had to keep up with the native kings or he might as well have not bothered to leave his home weyr, especially in this disgusting weather. A glance at the brimstone with her scales glinting in the dim light of the storm reminded him why he was here, to win this flight. The raindrops sparkled off the brimstone's scales and looked like gems. Should he try to woo her with words now? No, not yet. Save those for the end of the flight, when she might be more disposed to listen. Now all she'd want to do was get some sky between herself and her chasers.

[Onyxaeon]

Isionyth's rage poured over onto the rolling thunder claps as she caught sight of the males from the corner of one great, blood shot eye. Oh, if only these ominous clouds swirling about her body, spreading as though to allow her through in the deepest form of respect, would strike down her pursuers. They did not deserve the grace of flight for timing it to come after her. No, they should have been here. They should have all been here to witness her tormented screams earlier this very evening! But they weren’t. No, they had left her: for drills, yes, they had gone, but that was a poor excuse to the Brimstone. The queen’s skull tilted slightly to catch sight of the males behind her, and a snort rolled from her maw as her wings pumped, slicing merciously through the air to pull her farther away from her chasers. Her flight was open and, already, those not native to her own Weyr had began to appear. A Bronze she did not recognize was the first to catch her attention then, gradually, her own known males-a few older Solars with permission granted to try to fly her and the Tempests who always would try for her affections. None escaped her notice, though hidden the larger males were for their coloring, their crimson eyes gave them away in the abyss and she would use this to her advantage as they tried to use to theirs. If they were to hide from her, she would from them as well.

There was enough distance between the rising female and the lusting males behind her to suit her plans, and Isionyth kept track of the looming flashes of lightning as they struck, thankfully, away from the flying beasts that had taken to the skies. She waited for a few minutes, counting the seconds between each blinding explosion and was in a delirious state of ecstasy to find they were coming on swifter: she was flying them into the heart of the storm. Catch me if you can, fools. She mused in a scoff as she began to glide from side to side, her motions meant to be mimicked as she dearly looked as though she were turning just before she would snap back into her previous direction-she wanted their wings sore and aching tomorrow for daring this act. So this continued on and on, endlessly as the queen taunted those behind her, roaring her anger as they tried to gain on her burning mass. Lets see how far you‘ll follow me. Another flash stole through the air, the entire of the sky illuminated and the queen seized her opportunity. Wings flared as the light pierced the clouds, those behind her having to squint if not entirely close their eyes for the brightness, and this was exactly what she wanted.-Their eyes were off of her and she pulled up sharply, rising into the breaking thunder claps above and hiding behind the growling, bitter clouds that churned all above and around the males below her. When the light had died down, the queen was gone to those who had lusted after her body and desired nothing more than to see her carrying their eggs to the sands. Another flare of light, this one in the further distance from the lost males below, echoed violently, a resounding boom announcing itself right after. You’ve come just one step too far. Tell me, honestly, who do you think you are? The queen had to roar her simple sentence to be heard over the storm, but that didn’t matter. The effect of the matter was what she wanted. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me! You pathetic fools. You want your rank and your fancy titles and your eggs on the sands. Do you deny it?!?

The queen barrel rolled, moving away from her position directly above the males and diving slightly to the left into an almost black cloud where she could be safe from their prying gazes. This is my love in the first degree. Her words were left there to simmer, no other meaning being found or extracted from them. Though, if one were to be watching the queen and could see her eyes as they turned to watch a younger Tempest, they could fathom her plans. She was going to unman one here.


Far down below, Vsiasi had managed to stumble out into the very entrance of the Lower Caverns, just before the Weyrbowl's grasses could touch her bare feet but close enough that the rain could still splatter across her frame. Silk and rain were not the best of companions as each did little to no good for the other, but the Weyrwoman didn't care if she appeared the drowned cat or what she was showing to the group of males who had followed her sensible idea and were out of the rain. Her bonded was out in that storm and, though the Brimstone was a terrible, cruel sort at times, she was still her lifemate, and Vsiasi still cared for her as deeply as a mother does her firstborn. She barely took her eyes from the skies to speak with the arriving out-of-Weyr riders in greeting, though the dragons above were long away from the Weyr by now and out of her sight. She was transfixed on the very spot her queen had vanished. "Yes...Welcome. I'm sorry you lot have to find your dragons out in this wretched weather but, there is nothing for it. She's gone and there is no stopping Isionyth when she has her mind set to something." Those native to the Weyr would only nodd in greeting, a brave enough individual would chuckle, but that would be all. No, each was on the Flight and the storm that had overtaken the Weyr. "She wont be down until the storm is...," Vsiasi whispered out, the breath of sound almost lost to the wind howling through the Bowl. "I'll have some drudges bring up some towels.-There's no sense in the lot of you getting ill from the rain while we wait." The woman turned, pulling the robe closer about her body before walking down the tunnel, returning some minutes later with a glow in one hand and several drudges trailing behind her with dry towels. As Vsiasi hung up the glow, the towels were passed about to each soaked rider, those who were more or less nearly drowned were led off to be found dry attire but, if they could avoid it, no other vanished off to change. LIke an old hound awaiting its master's return, Vsiasi stood by the glow at the beginning of the caverns, the rain droplets pelting the front of her slender frame as she chose not to take complete shelter from the storm or anything dry for herself.

[Desert]

Once Xann had finished blooding and thrown himself into the violent, storm-lashed skies, N'yx had retreated with the rest back to the shelter of the Caverns' entrance. His mind awash with the confusing double-awareness of his own thoughts and those of his dragon, flying valiantly through the storm in the wake of his brimstone queen, the Weyrleader only realized a drudge had slipped up behind him when he felt the towel being draped around his dampened shoulders. Gratefully N'yx scrubbed the cloth through his hair and over his face; the wild winds tearing through the Weyr had taken on a rather biting chill, which meant stuffy chests and sinuses for the ones who stood about dripping.

N'yx glanced at each of the outsiders as they approached, drenched from the rain, though he held his silence; this was Vsasi's hour, after all. He might not be Weyrleader for much longer, though as long as Isionyth lived, Vsasi would maintain her rank. At the Weyrwoman's apologetic comment, N'yx had to grin. Life in the Weyr was never boring.

He too stood near the Lower Caverns' entrance, though a few paces behind Vsasi; far enough back that he wasn't being pelted by the downpour. N'yx would glance down from his sky-gazing regularly and shoot a concerned glance at the Weyrwoman, though understanding of her motives kept him from attempting to persuade Vsasi to retreat from the rain. A faint sigh -- barely different from a normal exhalation -- escaped his nostrils as N'yx gazed back up into the tempestuous sky, searching vainly for any glimpse of the dragons weaving through heavy dark clouds and lashing bolts of lightning. His usually calm demeanor was tainted by worrying that one of the fliers would meet with tragedy and be struck from the sky. Whether it was his own dragon or someone else's, the Weyrleader still worried; who or what made no difference, it was only the lives that were risked that mattered.


They forged deeper and deeper into the heart of the dense black clouds; Xann could tell by the lightning that arced around them more frequently by the moment; by the increasingly turbulent air, and the almost overpowering scent of ozone. His senses -- and those of every other dragon -- were overloaded by the storm, making just staying airborne a challenge, much less pursuing the brimstone queen flitting tauntingly before them. Frequently they would lose sight of Isionyth as she surged ahead, their view blocked by banks of clouds.

Drenched by the condensation layered upon his body by the clouds and by the driving rain which felt like bullets hammering onto his skin, Xann was startled when larger and much harder objects suddenly began pelting him. A fist-sized lump of ice struck his head, narrowly missing his eye. Hail! More of the solid ice-balls fell in flurries around the flying dragons, eliciting squeals of pain when they hit sensitive and vital spots. Xann didn't have the concentration to spare to notice when several of the smaller dragons -- namely one or two of the solars who had been foolish enough to petition to fly -- peeled off, repulsed by the raging elements.

One bolt of lightning flashed by, dangerously close; so much so that Xann could feel the immense heat radiated by the stream of electricity, and felt little tendrils separate from the main arc to dance across his hide, almost coyly. The tempest's skin crawled and he shivered violently once the bolt had zipped by. Instead of intimidating him, that only served to harden the Weyrking's resolve: the shudder was one of exhilaration. His maw parted in a wolfish grin and a daredevil growl bubbled up from the depths of his chest, while the big king's eyes flashed with excited streaks of a bright blue through the muddy oranges and reds. This game just got fun!

Xann threw himself into the chase with more energy than before, drawing away from the pack of males and drawing a good body-length ahead of them. The most massive bolt of lightning that Xanntorith had ever seen shot through the clouds right in front of him just then; he was momentarily blinded by the flash, which was tinged with an eerie, angry pinkish-red color. The big king had to backwing so as not to fly headlong into the massive bolt, so was highly disoriented when it passed and he began to regain his vision. Several of the other contenders breezed past the confused Weyrking, some of the cannier ones instinctively climbing in order to have the strategically better high ground.

Once he got his sight back and recovered from the close shave, Xanntorith's natural cunning came into play, and he surged upward as well, scanning with every bombarded sense to try and locate the vengeful brimstone. By chance he saw a flash of movement in his peripheral vision -- the clouds in the upper left quadrant of his vision had thinned enough to spot a flash of living scales zoom by, rotating in what he assumed was an agile barrel roll. That glimpse was lost as the mists of an especially dark, dense cloud closed over the queen. Still, it was enough to go on, so Xanntorith wheeled on a wingtip and plunged after her into the cloud.
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[Dragonmage]

Otelth squealed, as much with surprise as with pain, or so he would argue, when a hailstone hit him directly on the sensitive tip of his muzzle. Even as he followed the brimstone into the storm, the bronze nearly hit a tempest in the bad visibility of the heavy cloud cover. As he backwinged to keep from fouling his wings with the other dragon's, a lightning bolt blasted past his tail, barely missing him. It still was close enough that a thread of lightning hit him and a painful shock ran through Otelth's body, making him flail his wings in pain. Once his body was back under control, the bronze was unhappy to find that he had lost some of the ground he'd worked so hard to gain on Isionyth.

T'mo took several long moments to realize that like the current Weyrleader, there was a towel draped around his neck. If he had not been so deeply linked with his bronze, T'mo might have said a thank you to the drudge. As it was, however, he barely had enough presence of mind to dry off from the pelting rain before he was absorbed by Otelth once again.

Otelth twisted after a glint he barely saw out of the corner of his eye. Could that be the queen he sought? He raced towards the place where he had seen the glimmer. It didn't matter to him what other dragons were also in the flight, to Otelth, the queen was the one to pay attention to. She must have really wanted to test the flying skill and stamina of her chasers. When some of the solars dropped out from the wild weather, he snorted. Obviously they did not have what it took to fly a queen if they were scared off by a little rain and wind. With the idea of having seen the brimstone he yearned for, the bronze forgot about having been zapped by a strand of lightning.

[Onyxaeon]

Isionyth thundered a roar as she tore into the swarthy, ebony cloud before her, her ashen hide betraying her to two males, it seemed. She could taste their scent to the air. Stronger than the others, closer. No! Leave me be, you overgrown whers! I want not part in being your nest slave! The queen backwinged, changing her course away from the smaller Tempest she had been eying to avoid capture from the two males behind her. They weren't supposed to have followed! In her blind rage, she slammed into Otelth, the Brimstone screaming her agony as she jammed her wing against an iron flank, scrambling about as her curved barbs struck his lower side. It was nothing like what she could have normally done were she focusing but, at the moment, pain blinded rationality as she ceased to pump her wings and spiraled into a dangerous free fall.

Her pain bore through the link, crashing into the rider far below and away from the flight. Tears overfilled Vsiasi's eyes, lost in the rain, and the woman could not contain the whimper that fled past her lips nor the words that followed. "She's falling..."

Stop it, Mine! Don't let them see me as anything but strong. The queen was falling fast, her wings limp in the air as the ground bore closer, Rias Hold within sight and curious eyes poking their heads out from the windows to see the falling Brimstone. Perfect. By now, the queen had fallen low enough for the other males to have spotted her, and frantic wingstrokes were being made to catch up with eh queen as she continued to dive without thought or compassion for the rocky ground below her littered with metals that the lightning above had begun to take notice of. Another Bronze, this beast having broken away from the pack and small enough to fly faster, caught up to Isionyth, his pleas lost to her and her lids closed to ignore her descent. Lovely Isionyth, please! Spread your wings! Not yet. Isionyth! You can stop my fall, then. The bronze was puzzled as he watched the Brimstone's eyes shoot open, her claws wrapping around his shoulders and the hope sparking in his eyes. He had been chosen! You only wish. The queen shoved the male below her, heading him straight in the path of the conductive metal moments before a lightning bolt stole across the sky and struck the bronze beast, a massive crash echoing as Isionyth spread her sore wings and tried to climb in altitude.

Rias and that Bronze have been met with a surprise. Someone else is going to get one if you don't back off. Despite the queen's lingering anger, it was obvious she was favoring one wing. Her flight would be shortened if she could not recover from her mild injury.

[Desert]

Xann had barely had time to react when Isionyth had suddenly swerved aside. He had been bearing down on the brimstone, surging through the black cloud despite lashing tongues of lightning and driving rain and hail, when suddenly she became aware of the approaching males. The big tempest only saw Isionyth rushing toward them, eyes aglow with rage, mere seconds before she would have made contact. Ever a quick thinker, Xanntorith folded his wings and rolled side, dropping out of the vengeful queen's warpath. So instead of striking him head-on, Isionyth's victim was a foreign bronze. He heard her shriek, though through the hazy clouds he couldn't see what had happened, and saw Isionyth drop bonelessly through the clouds.

Xann had half unfurled his wings after the swift dodge. The big tempest snapped his wings fully open as he saw Isionyth plummet and surged after her, great strokes of his wings shoving the storm-torn air behind him, shooting his body ever faster after the queen. But given the chaotic winds riled up by the storm, he couldn't even reach terminal velocity, despite flapping valiantly toward the approaching ground. The other males around him, as they became aware of the falling brimstone, cried out, pleading her to check her descent. Xann wasn't entirely sure what she was up to with this stunt, so he held his silence. It was a mark of N'yx's interference that the big tempest didn't do the same -- the Weyrleader was ever one to wait and see what would happen. Isionyth was a canny, unpredictable dragon: there was no telling if she was actually falling, or just toying with her pursuers.

But when the brimstone snatched up the bronze in her claws, Xann gaped a draconic smirk. Typical Isionyth. Indeed, as she shoved the unfortunate male toward the metal-strewn ground, a bolt of lightning rendered the bronze no more than a charred corpse. As Isionyth began to climb Xann leveled out of his dive; he angled his flight to barely rise in altitude, while still keeping mostly in line with Isionyth. He kept a safe lateral distance away: Faranth knew that in her current state, the brimstone queen was not a good creature to be close to. Xann noticed that Isionyth's flight had developed a slight limp. So she had been injured! It didn't seem to be serious, but it did hamper her speed slightly.

ooc; fah, Melpomene is not working with me at all. -_-[/size]

[Dragonmage]

Otelth kept plowing doggedly through the powerful winds of the storm. Sometimes he had more courage then sense and this, clearly was one of those times. Of course, no male dragon in the middle of a Flight would do the most intelligent thing if it meant looking bad to the female he Chased, and a king in a queen's flight would never dream of such.

The bronze was getting closer. He, Otelth, would show these arrogant males what Crystal Caverns' dragons were made of by catching their queen. His rider had been most unhappy when one of them caught the magma. Otelth screeched in shock as Isionyth slammed violently into his side. What was that crazy dragon doing? Her barbed tail raked across his side, digging into the sensitive place in front of a hind leg. The bronze twisted upward to get away from the pain.

By the time he'd realized that he'd just had and missed a chance to catch the queen, she was dropping quickly in a freefall and nearing the metal-strewn earth. Otelth's eyes whirled in startlement as she threw a smaller bronze then he was towards the ground and into the path of a lightning bolt. She was a dangerous beast, but he could still be in contention if he flew right. Otelth felt a sudden rush of concern for the prickly beast when he saw that she favored one wing. The bronze called out to her as he dropped back just a bit.

Bright queen, I follow until you choose. I would not dare take that choice from you.

[Onyxaeon]

Favored words, but you cannot possibly hope to charm me into your claws! Isionyth leveled out, her wings stretching wide to not only alleviate some of her pain, but also to bring her body into a glide so that she may conserve her strength. She had further violent plans to carry out to warm these males before she would allow herself to be caught. They seemed to have understood her last attempt to get them to back off, though, she thought with a smirk, crimson eyes rolling in their sockets in sick amusement. She would have to tease them a bit, coax them closer and banish their fears of her prickly affections before she could go through with her next plot.

Rias was soon lost from view from the queen and, with it, the memory of what once was a Bronze. The hail had died, only an occasional block falling from the skies now. They were flying out of the storm, it seemed or, perhaps, into the eye of it. The thought of being caught in the eye of a vicious storm heavily appealed to the Brimstone queen, so she kept the direction of the force of nature in mind as she turned her wings, now flying toward Jyniar Hold where the storm was certain to still be carrying out its tirade. I've yet to hear a reason from any of you. Empty promises, the lot of you only speak of that. Be honest, a moment. I promise I wont bite. Much. The Brimstone tucked her wings close to her body, biting back a hiss as she spiraled down, again choosing to pass directly over the Hold as it came into view. This time, she circled lazily, enjoying the attention she caught wind of as her keen eyesight gifted her the looks from children in awe. This was not something she did just for the giggles: there was actually method to her madness. The participants to a queen flight always needed to find release from their lusting, and half of those from that incident brought new younglings into the world. Possible candidates for her far distant clutches or mayhaps a junior queen's. It was much the same for the Holdfolk, aimlessly swept away in the passion aroused by the lusting dragons overhead and those sensitive enough to it took to the sheets. It was an effective an easy way to make sure she always had humans to take care of her little ones.

I'm waiting. Woo me with your reasons. Tell me I'm beautiful, that Rukbat would not shine as bright without me.-Tis all a lie. If I were worth that much, you wouldn't have complained to follow me into the skies in this storm. No, I'm worthless to you lot, aren't I? Fine then, if none will speak up, I'm storm bound. The queen could not hide the dejected look about her face as she thrust her wings through the air, grateful when a thermal picked her mass up and lead her heavenward into the growling winds and churning thunder. Would you even miss me when I was gone?

[Desert]

The winds and rain had slackened, as had the pesky lightning and hail that fell incessantly. In a moment of contempt for the elements, Xanntorith flicked his head back just in time to catch a large lump of hail in his mouth and crush the ice ball with a chomp. Complained to follow, had he? Xann had never done such a foolish thing. He had never done anything but chase dutifully, time after time, despite Isionyth's abuse and timing. Even when he had been lashed by the storm's fury he had kept the resentment to himself and flown on after her. Xann had always been a faithful Weyrking for all ten Turns he had held the position. Hearing Isionyth's surly speech spurned his pride and goaded him into renewing the determination with which he competed. he would show them all, Isionyth especially, what he was made of.

The brimstone queen's plaintive, saddened tone alleviated his indignity slightly, though it did nothing to make his resolve waver. He found the same thermal Isionyth rode and slipped into it as well, grateful for the break on his wings. Pessimism doesn't suit you, Isionyth. You are our queen, and the whole Weyr would mourn your loss. But I know you better, dear Isionyth, than to think you would throw yourself to the mercy of the storm. Surely you are not ready to give in so soon? I would have thought you had more up your sleeves for we pathetic males,[/b][/color] he remarked, gaping a grin though isionyth couldn't see it. By playing off her typical brimstone's tenacity, he hoped she would snap out of the dejection. Truly, despite her demeanor, Xann had spoken truly: as the senior queen, every dragon in the Weyr and especially the kings had an attachment to her on some deep level.

But as he had mentioned, Xann knew her too well. This self-pity didn't seem like Isionyth -- especially a Rising Isionyth. She was surely up to something, which was why Xann kept a respectful distance back. Plenty of the other males, some driven by her sadness, had closed the distance once more between themselves and the queen. Xann was more than willing to let them suffer the brunt of her attacks and save his energy and hide.

Gliding up the thermal gave Xann a moment to reflect. Being Solainoti's Weyrking was a taxing position, given how truculent his mate was. There had been several points when he wasn't sure he would remain Weyrking -- either Isionyth's patience with his had snapped and she'd sworn up and down that his days as Weyrking were numbered, or he had just gotten fed up with dealing with it and told himself that he might just not participate in her next Flight. But something would always happen that kept him in his post. Not that he had grown complacent, or taken it for granted, but he had a level of confidence that usually lasted him through those rough spots.

I bet she's wond'rin' if I'm worth her while,
She's judge and jury an' she's got me on trial,
But I ain't sweatin' 'cause I'm first on her speed dial,
Yeah, that's right, she's takin' me home tonight!

ooc; lyrics from the song Use Me by Hinder.[/size]

[Dragonmage]

The wind and rain were not falling as hard now and the hail had almost dissipated. He could do this. Otelth would be there at the end of the flight at the very least and surely would do all in his power to catch the brimstone. Complained about some wind and rain, like a new-fledged weyrling? Otelth had done nothing even remotely resembling such a thing.

Whine? About a bit of rain and wind? To do such a thing would be an insult to your strength and foolish. What queen would choose a male unable to keep up with whatever she threw at him? Certainly not such a queen as you, Glorious Rider of the Storm.

Like the other males, Isionyth's speech had stirred his competitive heart to new heights. The bronze only had eyes for the brimstone and he wasn't sure what she was up to with the selfpity. But even so he might show her what he could do. Putting more power into each wingstroke, Otelth drove toward the brimstone, catching the same thermal Isionyth and Xanntorith had. Good luck and maneuvering had put him close to the brimstone.

With a daring idea in his head, the bronze flapped toward her. Two could play at the teasing game. Avoiding her whipping tail might be a bit tricky but if he timed this right, it could be very impressive. Steady wingbeats brought him up close, very close, well within catching distance, but that was not his plan for such a fierce queen. Making an assumption that just because you were close she wanted you had already led to the death of one bronze. He had no interest in becoming another casualty of the flight.

Otelth tried to brush wingtips with Isionyth affectionately as he passed. The bronze did not wait to see her reaction to the slight affection, but turned tightly enough to make his wings hurt and took up his position behind her again.

It is not rank that brought me here, for there are other queens in other Weyrs. None so beautiful as you, however and so I chase with all my heart. There is nothing that can make me leave this Flight. I will be there for you when your wings finally tire if you wish to choose me.

T'mo unconsciously mimicked his dragon's daring act by creeping up on Vsiasi and trying to brush his fingers across her hand. He knew what kind of risk his dragon was taking, and he did not care.

[Onyxaeon]

Vsiasi tensed, her mind momentarily pulled away from her dragon's sorrows as she felt rough fingertips caress the back of her palm. Her spine was commanded by a shiver, her eyes not bothering to leave the still growling skies to look upon the male who had been a touch bold. "I'm not drugged enough to want to be touched at the moment," she stated curtly, her tone rolling over into a reprimanding light, though softening when she found Isionyth whirling through her thoughts once more, her body relaxing faintly, apprehension taking the place of irritation. "She's honestly hurting. She's not kidding anymore, or trying to rile anyone. Can't you see? Every time he lingers back, she dies a little more inside." Her words were cryptic, and non could really quite be certain as to whom she was talking about unless the riders were speaking with their dragons on a more than emotional level.

Isionyth shuddered under the touch, her wing strokes pausing for a moment in shock. Who had dared to do something so simple and sweet in her entire time as the senior queen? It was such a small action, but it stirred the female's cold heart for just a fraction. She envied hers for the love she could give to anyone, and the love she was given in return. She wanted that with someone but, instead, everyone only saw her as someone they'd want in a fight or to call when they wanted to be exceptionally cruel to someone. It...hurt to be seen as nothing more than a brute when she did have a soft side.-It was just buried underneath all the harshness of her personality and rare in making an appearance because she was stronger than that or, at least she liked to imagine she was. Nothing feels right when I'm not with you. I don't know if I'm ever really gonna let you go...I don't know if I want to. Is it so wrong to want you to be there, even though you push me away so? Is it so wrong to want to not fight with you, even though it is inevitable? I'm wearing thin, and I can't stop shaking. Stop making me wait,...please. I'm not one to wait on miracles, but I want this one more than air. I have to want it, because there's no other way to get it. I have failed you, but...I have loved you from the beginning. The queen's words had drawn a younger Tempest nearer, the male over stepping his bounds in her moment of weakness by licking the side of her flank. For that instance, Isionyth allowed him to think he had wooed her. Even allowed him closer to lock talons with her as they climbed steadily, waiting for that right moment to prove him wrong. When she had reached a desired altitude, Isionyth lowered her voice to a whisper to speak with the male in a saddened croon though, no doubt, several males still lingering around had heard her soft words still because she wasn't trying to hide the pain or anger within them. You aren't the one I want to touch me. The one I need to soothe me. Just as the Bronze before him, the male howled in agony as Isionyth's barbed tail came into contact with him, the tip having been brushing teasingly against his tail so he had thought nothing of it until she had bit deep into the deciphering organs that distinguished him of being male. The curved spikes scrambled about, ripping things meant for the inside of the body out, and cutting him done in his prime. As he tried to get away, his talons dug into her body, raked across her back, but she didn't feel. Didn't feel anything for her wounds or the icher coating her tail that was not her own and the stains trailing down her back that were hers. When she released him, the Brimstone merely looked back at her remaining competitors, sighing and turning her wings to ride the air current up higher.

[Desert]

As Otelth sidled up to the queen and brazenly caressed her wing with the tip of his own, a baleful hiss worked its way past Xanntorith's bared teeth. The big tempest bristled at the foreign bronze's arrogance, in making that move. Who did he think he was? In a reflection of Xann's irritation, N'yx curled his lip in T'mo's direction from where he stood. If that impudent Northerner thought he could oust N'yx from his position -- one he'd held justly and loyally for a decade -- then there was something wrong with that man's brain.

But then, Vsasi spoke. Even through the blur that came from having his own mind fused with that of his dragon, N'yx still absorbed the Weyrwoman's speech, keenly aware of the apprehension in her tone. It made the tempestrider's ire settle, and brought things back into focus. He helped Xann reign in his own irritation at Otelth's bold move. As N'yx shared with his dragon what Vsasi had said, Xann's wingbeats faltered for a second. As the other dragons had closed in on the brimstone, Xann had been left at the back of the pack, since he had been suspicious of another attack. They both knew of whom Vsasi spoke, and it struck a chord within the big tempest.

What was he doing? It was so cowardly, to hang back -- and thinking himself so clever for it! So what if staying at the front of the pack meant an almost certain injury? He was Weyrking! He should be taking anything she could dish out and more, for the sake of the Weyr, and especially for Isionyth herself. Xann spread his wings in preparation for a surge of power to bring him closer, when Isionyth spoke. The brimstone's impassioned words tugged at his heartstrings; it forced him to admit that, after so many years of being her mate, that there was a bond there. It was impossible for it to be otherwise. No matter how they quarreled, there was that deep connection between them that kept Xann where he was. He couldn't deny it anymore -- it wasn't just luck or competence, despite how his pride argued.

A sudden determination lent new strength to Xanntorith's exhausted wings, and as the rising wind filled his wings he threw it back down, shooting upward in a tight spiral toward the brimstone. It was time to take this Flight seriously and stop prancing around. If he wanted to stay Weyrking so badly, he'd better step up to the plate and act like it! Xann swooped up into the mob of dragons -- making sure to smack Otelth in the face with one wing as he passed, shooting a venomous glare at the Northern bronze over his shoulder -- and worked his way through the throng toward Isionyth.

He was close enough to hear the queen's words just before she tore into the younger tempest's body. Xann barrel rolled aside to avoid the falling youngster, but otherwise disregarded it: all his attention was on Isionyth. I am no miracle, Isionyth, but I won't make you wait any longer. If I am the one you want, then I am here. I will always be here. We neither of us are perfect, but if we cut each other some slack we can make it work. Please forgive me for my cowardice and my hubris, Isionyth.[/b][/color] Xann crooned softly, the sound lost in the stormy skies, and drew up close enough to let the barbs on Isionyth's tail rattle against his foreclaws. No matter how we fuss and fight, somehow, we can make it through. Together.[/b][/color]

ooc; AAAWWWW -dues of cute- i love this thread nao~[/size]

[Dragonmage]

T'mo felt his throat grow tight as he listened to Vsiasi say that her dragon really was hurting inside. The words came unbidden, but they had a ring of truth, if any in the flight wished to listen.

"Otelth wants Isionyth to feel better most of all. He wants to win, any king would, but not at Isionyth's expense. The choice will be hers."

Otelth, for his part, had been watching the brimstone carefully after he'd brushed her wing with his own. Her voice almost mesmerized the bronze, but the memory of the charred corpse of a too bold suitor still warned Otelth away from testing her patience again. He would fly close, as close as he safely could, but no more than that. A hard smack in the face from one of the Tempests made him hiss in temper. Clearly, this was the dragon he would have to convince Isionyth that he would be a better mate than. The Weyrleader's dragon would probably have been the one most angered by the opening of the Senior Queen's flight. Otelth knew he'd just have to be his best.

T'mo almost completely ignored N'yx's snarl. The Weyrleader could not be expected to be pleased with the open flight. It was almost like saying his leadership was not good enough. T'mo simply said one thing.

"The dragon decides."

It was enough, in his mind. His bronze's mind which had receded enough that he could think for a few moments, swallowed his own again.

Otelth was not going to let Xann win. If the other dragon won, he would have to truly beat the bronze. He pushed his tiring wings again. The bronze too was close enough to hear Isionyth's words. In his mind, the fact that she had not turned to savage him for the caress was a sign of, if not favor, at least tolerance. Now, exactly even with Xanntorith, Otelth flew steadily, trying not to show that this flight was straining his muscles and his temper.