Ragnhildr knows the signs. She grew up in a Weyr. She just never thought it'd be her dragon that she'd be watching. Rhamneth's always been pretty cheerful, so Ragnhildr doesn't really expect much. Instead, she watches her sleeping dragon and paces the room. Should she leave the door open? Should she tell men to leave? She'd probably only get men, honestly, so she's going to just shut the door. Yeah. That's the sane thing to do. She slots the bolt in place and circles the room, waiting.
When Rhamneth awakens, the energy hits her like a full force. Wooooah. Her voice is loud, filling Ragnhildr's head and likely the minds of anyone nearby. Oh, this is! Yep! This is happening!
In a way, Ragnhildr's right. Rhamneth isn't violent. But there's so much energy running through her now, and she practically jumps off the ledge to get to the pens. She stares at the gathering dragons as she bloods, eyes whirling at a mile a minute. This is gonna be fun, yeah? Thunder rumbles in the distance. Rhamneth's head snaps up. She licks a bit of blood off her upper lip. You think it'll start before I finish? Haha, oh, I hope so!
Her take-off sound is a trill, manic and energetic and frantic, a challenge that's less "I'm the Biggest Baddest Queen, you puny males can't catch me" and more "dodge some lightning, bet you won't."
Don't back out now! Contact rules: two for flinching. Sound good? All right, let's rock!
Ragnhildr sinks into a sitting chair, knuckles white on the grip of the chair, as Rhamneth leads her daredevil parade straight into the oncoming storm.
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to note: flight winner will be a bronze for this one, but anyone can enter. NPCs welcome. Winner will likely be picked off vibes, RNG if I like multiple vibes.
Minali could feel the energy going through the Weyr, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Others might have mistook it for the incoming storm, but she'd grown up in Southern Bowl where the tropical storms could sweep in with little notice. This was no storm. This was something else.
The gold's voice entered her mind just as she was leaving her latest assigned chore (mending clothes again--it was something she was good at). She looked over at the candidate walking next to her for subtle confirmation and was struck by how beautiful she was. Mina frowned and quickly looked away, her hair brattily tossing over her shoulder. "I need a bath." She announced and promptly stormed off in the other direction.
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NPC: Bronze Alianth
K'en was visiting from another Weyr, something about learning diplomacy (blegh). The group was just about to leave when he noticed how distracted Alianth was. He gave his Wingleader a pleading look, and the man laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You stay then!" The leader announced between guffaws as he mounted up with the others. And then they left him. Alone. With a proddy dragon. In an unfamiliar Weyr. Thanks, boss.
"At least let me get the straps off ya," K'en sighed, more amused now than annoyed. Alianth was a handsome dragon, with swirls of darker patina and pale almost silver decorating his warm brassy hide, and he was a bronze through and through. Confident, deeply passionate, but long-tempered enough that he didn't complain as his rider spent the extra time to remove the riding straps. He was more handsome without them, he knew, and there would only be the best for His Lady Gold.
When she took to the sky, he was ready, calling warmly like foghorn of a bright lighthouse--a guiding light in the storm, he mused. Sounds good, my Queen. He was more chivalry than violence, but still he did not mean to flinch. What could be better than a strike from his beloved? A scar would be a reminder beyond what dragons could remember.
NPC Bronze for
The storm was building. As certain as the thunderheads billowing up on the horizon, Samudrath could feel it in the way his bones and blood ached. Old scars tingled back to life as the pressure pitched, but he was no silver-skinned old dotard—when the gale burst, he would ride it, not cower from it. He had seen plenty in his long life, and he would use that experience to his advantage now.
With a heavy grunt the bulky bronze heaved himself up from his ledge, massive wings abusing the air as he found purchase, and then dove in a steady, unstoppable arc towards the lowing mass of herdbeasts penned below. Oho, you have chosen an excellent night for it, Rhamneth my queen. A bleating scream rung out as he took his kill, blood staining his maw as he watched the gold take flight. Ah, the spry, feverish energy of youth... He gave a bemused rumble to himself, patiently finishing with the beast he'd made a meal of before he too surged upwards.
He had plenty of fire left in him for this, and he wouldn't burn out as swift as the younger bachelors in the face of lashing rain or crashing thunder. The storm holds no fear for me, my queen, but your lovely charms? That perhaps might make any dragon flinch and stare in wonder. He trumpeted as he surged after her and the other chasers who had begun to filter into the air, a deep, brassy rumble that mingled with the encroaching thunder. Let's give them a flight they'll never forget, hmm?
V'runa is going to spend the flight with his almost-wife so no worries there lol.
Taleya hadn’t paid much attention to the brightness of gold dragons in the Weyr. Not any more than she should have, at least. Sure, she had noticed Rhamneth’s color, but didn’t think it would be anything that would bother her or her blue for months yet, when the inevitable eggs would be there to celebrate.
She didn’t count at all on Cirinath’s more irritating tendencies to manifest in a gold chase. Taleya frowned as a wave of emotion hit her at the same moment that the walls of her tiny upper-level weyr started to vibrate with the frequency of the utter noise Cirinath made. Some horrible mix of growling and purring, deep in the pale blue’s chest, filling the space that, right now, was feeling much too small when it was normally comfortable for the pair.
Cirinath’s tail lashed eagerly, causing Taleya to keep a wide distance as she watched. The blue stared hungrily at Rhamneth in the pens, then slithered right off her own ledge and went to join, despite her paltry size.
Taleya stood in her mortified state for long enough to send a few snippy comments in her dragon’s wake. You’re serious. You’re actually trying this? Just… don’t get hit by lightning without me, then. The bluerider sighed, and after composing herself, turned to slink out of her room and down to the lower levels. She took her time, moseying to savor the ambiance rather than directly seeking anyone out.
Cirinath barely felt the quips from her bonded, fully caught up in a surge of maniacal adrenaline. Somewhere deep down, she knew she wouldn’t win… but was winning really her goal, here? No, it was the chase itself. The rush was the fun. And oh, how those bronzes will probably sneer and snip and be oh-so-annoyed when she shows up… Yes, this is just the kind of entertainment she’d been waiting for.
She barely made her own kills in the wake of the others, not wanting to waste any time… Not that she really wanted to consume anything, anyway. Then in a flash, Cirinath was up and after the pack, teeth bared in a snarling, bloody grin as she wove, dipped, and used her small size and maneuverability to push ahead. She wasn’t here for the long haul, anyway, so she may as well push to the front while she still can, right?
The looming storm only spurred her further. Bright little Queen, I was born to chase storms… And you, if your taste is really for lightning itself! I’ll show these big brutes how to dodge bolts without even singeing a wingsail! Flinching? Hardly! Though, if it’ll earn me a bite or two… I could pretend, just for you, Rhamneth. Her cackling laugh comes through as clearly as her words, broadcast to Rhamneth and the rest with a lilting, taunting tone. Of course, she made good on her promise, fearlessly diving right into the storm as if the charged air was a battery for her wretched mania.
Taleya moths apathetically while Cirinath is a weird goblin out of her league.
Griff is only half awake when the voice comes shooting through his head like lightning setting his skin alight. Reminded him a bit like the sensation of the thread eating at his throat, and he coughed out a strangled noise, half-confused and half-confounded. Didn't normally make him ache like that, the call.
"Must be something about the youthfulness." He muttered to himself, turning over in his cot and resolutely blocking out the whole affair. Athexth, bless his heart, was never the type for going ballistic, and the two of them had long ago managed to find some sort of accord between them when it came to flights.
Athexth cast a glance back into the weyr, not in the least concerned and only ensuring his rider wouldn't keel over dead from embarrassment or some other such nonsense. Fool man that he was. Were he capable, he might have rolled his eyes.
As it were, he glided down to the pens and managed to snag himself a beast, allowing himself the satisfaction of crunching down that bones broke and made a satisfying enough sound. The blood spurted and then oozed down the back of his throat, and then as he sat off Rhamneth went, jolting and bolting away just as the lightning arched through the sky in great bolts. He was by no means a romantic, and found the whole process rather clinical, in a way. But it was his duty to the weyr, and only the best would do for his weyr.
Should you be the lightning, Rhamneth, I will be the thunder. He said, simple promise that it was, and took off after her.
He spotted Samudrath, who he politely steered clear of, allowing the massive bronze the space he needed while keeping abreast of him, and then a blue- Cirinath, he thought?- spinning and gallivanting around them.
It is good to have ambitions, and even better the bluster to back it up. Athexth said, as though openly commending the blue. It was good that Rhamneth brought all sorts out, and even better that Cirinath had heard the call and came herself. A fortuitous sign, and Athexth could only commend her as she spun about them, flitting in and out all around them. Golds did as they wanted, but Athexth was rather sure Rhamneth would choose a bronze this day. Cirinath would have her fun, though. He'd have to ensure Griff sought out her rider later and give some sort of gift from him. There was an order to things, no doubt, but there was still a need for a strong showing, a strong weyr.
The visiting bronze was... a visiting bronze. Not quite to his tastes, but yet more fortuitous a sign that would be brought back to the other weyrs as to their strength and prowess. Let none speak ill of Tempest any longer, if Rhamneth is rising as she is now.
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Griff is pretending to sleep and Athexth is being his usual judgmental self but also weirdly nice for once
Him and his bond knew the call of a gold quite well, the pair were a bit older, Calhouth lifted his head, poking his riders mind, "youre good to go my dear Calhouth, just mind the storm."
the man could handle himself by himself in his weyr, and he had full confidence Cal would be just fine, he's flown through worse.
but with that Calhouth follows the other gathering dragons to the pens, lets some of the more energetic dragons have their meal before he picks something up himself and joins the chase, his voice dear Rhamneth, i will be your unflinching stalwart, if you so choose to have me he was a polite dragon, kind and handsome, but that didn't make him a shy dragon, he was bold in the face of dangers.
As the storm rolls in, Rhamneth leads her chase through it. And at the start, Cirinath is at the front, her boast loud enough for all to hear. Rhamneth rumbles, her own voice full of laughter. You've got the energy! Though Rhamneth is nowhere near ready to be caught, and Cirinath doesn't stand much of a chance. And there's no desire to slow down for the blues, either. Most of the other blues are ignored in the throng, Rhamneth not finding much reason to note them.
It's the bronzes that hold her attention. A bronze from a visiting Weyr, one she doesn't recognize but whose name comes through the hivemind. Brave, kind Calhouth, whose presence would be steadfast. Samudrath, whose experience kept him abreast of her all through the flight. Athexth, who may lack passion, but wasn't being a complete jerk about it. As she twists and turns, lighting crashing around her, she realizes she's more here for the thrill than anything else. If she could keep flying forever, she would.
She pushes herself to the limit. And when push comes to shove and she climbs as high as she can, streaking across the sky much like her own bolt of lightning, it's Athexth that she chooses. It's less of a deliberate choice and more of an acknowledgement. He's closest. And she doesn't bruise him as she takes him in her claws.
Aaah, that was fun.