Stormin' Good Flight

Xanadu Weyr - Beach

The unerring range of subdued white rises and falls in a multitude of sandy dunes, creating an endless amount of tiny valleys constantly demolished and rebuilt by the frequent arrival or departure of a dragon. Smoothing out as it slopes gently to the edge of the deep blue water, the sand darkens and a shell here and there stands out for children to collect. The beach itself is set along a low cliff - the height lessoning as one heads eastwards, blocking a portion of the beach from direct access.
The wide wide stretch of water opens up to the east, the far distant shore way beyond the horizon and the beach curves ever so slowly round to east and west, distant arms of land embracing the wind-ruffled Caspian Lake. East leads up to the mouth of the Rubicon River, where the protecting cliff is merely an arms length higher then the sand, and beyond that, a winding road leading out of Xanadu's territory. Westwards, the beach narrows as the cliff swings out, leaving a path wide enough for dragons in single file before cutting in to the sheltered cove designated the Weyrling Beach. However, cut in the cliff face to the north are a variety of rough, wide staircases, providing access to the clearing and to the meadow.

The trees are bending with the wind and one certain little greenrider is quite disgruntled as the green decides to land on the beach. "What in the bloody blueblazes are you doin!!" she howls over the howling wind. "In case you havn't noticed, it's raining out here!" There's a pause "What do you mean you're hot.. Oh shards and sweet Faranth mother of dragons!" Keziah is scrambling down and off and dropping straps left and right. "Why did you insist on going after those cattle then. Honestly!" Greenie mutters and snarls and snaps and curses as she works the straps "And they're bloody wet too! Wait! Where you going?" She yells as the green heads off into the icy rain with straps still attached.

Why is F'yr visiting Xanadu so soon after being there so often? Well, likely because she had been getting impatient about a certain set of straps! The brownrider's no where to be seen at first, but Zaruath certainly comes streaking through the chilly rain, not bothered at all by it as his skeletal frame cuts through easily. He stops briefly to settle on the sand, feet shaking off the bits here and there that might weigh him down, and he lets out a musical bugle all for Alosynth. As if he would miss the dear green's flight at all. His large colorless wings quiver in the howling wind, angled just right so that he is not torn right off the beach; at least all that training and storm chasing finally benefits /him/ and not just his thrill-seeking lifemate. The second the proddy green's feet moves off, his wings snap to catch the next gust of wind and he uses it to propell himself upwards and beyond! At last there's a trailing squeeal coming from the meadow somewhere, as Fy's small form emerges in the rain, hastily covered by some overly large coat. "You're sharding DEAD when you get back down, Zaru!" Surprisingly, her voice carries in this weather.

Winging down amidst the cold rain, a lean brown bearing a female rider seeks out a place to land. Her goggles are speckled with water droplets and her hair hanging in damp ringlets, the brownrider heaving a sigh as she slides from the dragon's back and seeks out the shelter of a bit of a ledge against the rocks, a tree, anything. Ahhhh. Dragon wing, that works. Zip snerks up at Adereth, "Yes it's the least you could do but I do appareciate it.. and truly, I understand.. inconvenient though it is.." she murmurs. She pulls her goggles and helmet off to tuck them in a pack at his side then shakes her hair out a bit with combing fingers and looks around a familiar voice making her grin as she turns to wave at F'yr. Zip is still getting settled from the chilly, wet, ride here and she keeps her gloves on for the moment, getting oriented with things. Her hazel eyes flick to Keziah and then the green and she tilts a look up at the brown, "Aha.." and in a blink her shelter is gone as Adereth turns to pad in that direction, lifting a soft croon into the chilly wind toward the green lady.

"Only a female would make you brave this weather." This is grunted by a none-too-pleased M'gaal, who is the bearer of riding straps that the bronze must surely have insisted on being removed shortly after landing. All it takes is a single hint that a female was rising /somewhere/ and the bronze, greedy monstrosity that he is, insisted on going. And, with Zaqalekhth, using the word 'no' is never an option. The normally water-hating bronze is all red-eyed and mantle-winged, stalking stiffly along the beach in pursuit of a certain piece of green-hided prey … and, when he finds her, he's quick to launch into the air after her without a word — only a resonant, steam-like hissing that issues from his gaped, fire-bright maw. Which, naturally, leaves a disgruntled, wet, and soon to be storm-battered M'gaal to figure out just /what's/ going on. His gaze catches on a few other unfortunate riders — among them the greenrider herself, which elicits a faint smile from the man — but he keeps his distance for now. He might get lucky, after all; the rain /might/ just be enough to deter Zaq. He hopes.

Ittisieth bursts from between with his usual tempered finesse, but his rider easily makes up for his confusion, eyes squinting behind his goggles into the sleeting rain. "Jays, this isn't Ierne. What're you doing?" Perhaps the bronze answers, perhaps he doesn't, but he touches down on the beach anyways, feldspar spiderwebs glittering under a sheen of the cold liquid. "I'm not gettin' down, and you can't make me! We're going. To Ierne." Head tilting, Ittisieth fixes his lifemate with a Look that speaks volumes. No physical part of him shows a threat, but apparently one has been issued, because S'gam's mouth presses into a flat line and he bites out an angry, "Fine!" Unstrapping and leaping off the bronze's side, completely ignoring the offered leg, Sig doesn't even bother unstrapping the bronze, nor does the dragon care. Zaruath, Zaqalekhth and Adereth are marked, but the coppered beast launches himself up into the air anyways, gaining slow altitude against the miserable wind before tilting his wings and whisking after Alosynth with just two words: « We come. » S'gam, meanwhile, cocks the lapels of his jacket up around his neck and reluctantly approaches Keziah. "So much for the nice weather a bit ago, huh?" Speaking of, they seem to have recreated at least part of the party. One hand raises to greet M'gaal before both brows raise. "F'yr?" Ah, so that's why Sie was so adamant. Sigh.

Alosynth is certainly in her element with the driving rain and wind and she rises through the battering winds like a storm tossed leaf. Reveling in the sheer wildness of the weather she cocks her head back to glance at those chasing after her and a purr croons form out of her throat, recognizing a good portion of them. A glance if given to one and then to the other, she's not lingering on a single one. Well not yet at least. « You may be following, but can you keep up? » Comes the challenge and then the green is diving down towards the rain soaked dunes of sand. Keziah herself blinks a moment as the others appear "Like wherries to a 'lizard hatching." she murmurs under her breath and then she catches sight of who all is there. "Well, look who the feline green dragged back." she smirks a little, though it looks comical with the rain dripping down her hair and face and then there's a yelp as she she's diving for the sands when Alosynth barely skims the air above her "Alo!!"

Zaruath's disfigured head swings about briefly at his fellow competition, reserving the worst of snarls for the arrival of Ittisieth on the scene; nothing is too dirty for this brown when it came to winning the heart (or body) of a green he has been admiring. This distance is still great between them, for now. Lust-filled violet eyes lock back onto Alosynth, the small tempest sweeping through the storm. «A hurricane cannot stop me from keeping up with you, my dear,» his musical tone caressing the green in silken ribbons, all for her, and yet his mind extends to the competition as well where he lingers in the darkness and shadows with threatening whispers, there but not there. F'yr stomps down towards the beach, looking soaked through even if she's got that coat over her and eyes blazing with a fire that keeps away the chill for the moment. "Of all the rotten moments and times for this to sharding happen— No offense Keziah." Her voice drops considerably from the growl to a mumble for the greenrider. "He's going to get himself killed against Ittisieth," she grumbles lowly, sending a glare towards S'gam as if it were his fault. Well, she couldn't really glare at the dragon half, since the bronze was up in the skies instead. She blinks back her fuzzy vision, noticing the other familiar chasers suddenly. M'gaal, she's met, but Zip gets a long stare as if Fy is trying to place her. And finally there's a nod of recognition and a wry smile in greeting. The greenrider's yell is enough to send her dropping to the sand as well, for Zaruath is keeping his promise, diving and mirroring the green step by step, using the winds and his overly large wings to his adventure as he dives down and swoops back up.

Zaqalekhth is a beast of fire, heat and smoke … not any of this watery nonsense. The lack of fuel to feed his fire is only barely counter-balanced by his other hunger — a hunger that's fiercely directed to the aerobatic green that's currently flying figurative circles around the other males. He's already at a few grievous disadvantages, but such a thing has never stopped him before. Thus is his pursuit a measured thing, initially distant in the hopes that he might be able to discern a method to her madness. His voice is a deep, unfathomable thing when he does finally deign to shape words — words only for Alosynth, though the other males will catch a burst of heat from him all the same — the ratchet-click of diabolical workings of gold hidden behind smoke: «We will burn together.» Below, M'gaal is just watching the aerial antics with a thinning of his lips and a distortion of his features that's one part dragon-induced and one part weather-induced. The straps are unceremoniously ditched to the sand after a moment's consideration; he can get them later. When his gaze returns to the riders, a bit of a wave is offered up to F'yr and S'gam — the other two he recognizes — and another to the unfamiliar brownrider. "Sharding /beast/," he remarks, slanting a look to Keziah. "That's what the feline green dragged back." He's still safely far away in a weird echo of his dragon's positioning that he avoids any swooping greens … but who's to say how long that luck will hold?

Zip looks from rider to rider, no recognition dawning for any of them save F'yr and she keens her gaze around again to find the greenrider of the hour, Keziah. A soft smile is offered and she lifts a hand to wave, the other one holding her jacket closed at her throat. A gaze shifts to the dragons for a moment and she just smiles, eyes lidding in silent communication with her lifemate. The brown spares no attention to any save the green, watching her, following her, an answer given with a lift of his muzzle and soft croon, accepting the challenge eagerly, «I will endeavor to do more than keep up, lady green.» Zip's smile quirks some and she looks to Keziah again, "Hi…I'm Zip," she says in introduction, a glance to the skies, "He doesn't often chase.." she comments as an aside then she too is ducking and grinning, "A daring girl.." she says with a grin. Adereth, for his part, makes long, slow beats of wings, a steady propulsion, long strides, sure and with intent, the green.

Ittisieth needs little encouragement when a female finally gains his attentions. Though he is little good when it comes to wooing words and lofty niceties (that's S'gam's lot), the dragon is intrigued by verbal repartee. « Perhaps if you are not careful, you will find me ahead of you. » The teasing threat is easily backed up. He lacks the storm training Zaruath possesses, but he's slick and streamlined in form, with a mind for tactics as opposed to brute strength. No response is given to the mental touches of the other males; they are below him now, and as such, they no longer deserve to feel the brush of silken maroon and sapphire, or the heady scent of port. That is all for Alosynth, he decides, tucking his wings in for the dive but adding a wide outwards arch into it as well, all the better to keep an eye on the green. S'gam, meanwhile, smirks over at Keziah. "What can we say, she draws all the good ones in." A slight frown is aimed F'yr's way, mouth flattening again. "Don't blame me for your dragon's angst," he cautions, knowing his own bronze had nothing against the brown… yet. Zip's approach is received with a nod, and a slight smile for M'gaal, amused by his definition of his dragon. Beasts indeed.

Keziah looks up from the sand as she eyes Zip a moment, her gaze narrowing a moment. "You've a familiar looking face. Though I'm sure I've never seen it before." She murmurs. "Keziah." she then answers as she sits up and glances up into the sky, watching while she can with her own eyes before the green is once more disappearing into the weather and then watching with her minds eye. She does pause a moment to glance at the riders again and then wraps her knees with her arms and leans her cheek upon them "Of all the rotton times indeed." she agrees with F'yr. She then snerks a little "Still, if he gets himself killed, he wasn't worty to catch." Yes, she can be evil. «If you're booked to burn, you ain't gonna drown.» Alosynth taunts the water hating bronze and flings herself into the wind, her momentum slowing only slightly before she's suddenly arching up and then riding the wind back towards the males « We are both in front of each other now. » She taunts the other bronze and then she's diving down and under the browns towards the lake and skimming across the surface, her tail flicking at them. Kezi glances at S'gam "The best huh?" she asks with smirk and then a toss of her head "We shall see who's the best. Hmm?" she asks with a taunt, echoing her dragon.

F'yr slowly straightens out again, as if afraid that a dragon was still in the sky above ready to remove her head. Good thing she isn't tall enough. Her eyes glaze over, fierce as she looks over the others around her and softening again when she drags muddled thoughts back to her body. "Life treating you well, Zip?" she mumbles towards the familiar brownrider, realizing that she likely is the only person there that knows her. Keziah gets her attention immediately and the brownrider does something completely out of character: she leeers with a wiggle to her brow and all. "He's worthy," she says with confidence. Zaruath continues to chase the green, the distance closed as much as he can and darting his body to maneuver away from the other chasers; thunder cracks out from the brown's whip-thin tail whenever one of them get too close for comfort. Croons rip out of him, lost to the winds likely, when Alosynth comes at them, wings adjusting so that he drops altitude, shadowing the green's movements from above now. His mind is wordless, a silk noose extended out and tickling at the green as it waits for the moment to snap taut. "We'll see," Fy mumbles back to Sig about her dragon's angst, sliding narrowed eyes his way as she shifts in the sands closer towards Keziah, jaws shaking from teeth chattering as the chill begins to sink in from her standing there.

There's a continual, audible hiss from Zaqalekhth as he continues his calculated pursuit; his eyes are more red than violet, his rage at being wet being the fuel to press him onward. For her, he will suffer; for her, he will endure this unspeakable indignity … because she is a fitting sacrifice to be claimed. «Not all fires can be quenched,» is conveyed on a twisted curl of mental smoke to Alosynth, the click-click-clicking of unseen gears working themselves steadily into a frenzy. He has found his fuel, his stride, and now there is no stopping the smoke-dark juggernaut. Below, M'gaal just grunts the word, "/Beast/," again, and then turns his increasingly more dragon-fogged eyes toward the rest of them. Or, rather, /through/ them, since he hardly seems to have much interest in looking at any of them. No longer is he still but a thing of impatient movement; the cold doesn't seem to affect him much, but with a lifemate such as his … no doubt the man's all but burning up inside. He strives to keep some distance yet, but his feet draw him inexorably closer to Keziah, even though his hands are most securely settled at his waist with thumbs hooked in belt-loops. For safety.

Zip inhales a little, as the chase becomes more intense so does her own expression. She blinks it away and holds her jacket closed against her body as she looks over the gathering again a feeling of awkwardness reavealed perhaps in the way she shifts from foot to foot and doesn't quite hold a gaze on anyone for very long. She inclines her head a little to S'gam then glances to M'gaal and smiles before her eyes finally settle on Keziah again, perhaps a mirror of the focus of Adereth's attention, the lovely green. «Your wit is well matched by your grace, lady green.» The brown dives downward in pursuit of the tail-flicking temptress, his patient, long strides keeping him close, hopefully close enough. Zip's head shakes slightly and her cheeks pink with a bit of a blush, "Well I lived at Ista for a long time..and am at Western now.." she offers to Keziah in possibly explanation of her familiarity. It's not that she'd deny L'ton's parentage but really, she's not going to bring it up with a greenrider. It's just too likely that it's her father's face the girl might be remembering. She looks to F'yr, "Well enough, F'yr, you?" she asks, a brow lifting then she glances to the formation in the skies, lost for a moment, a hazy glance given to Keziah as Adereth stretches toward Alosynth.

S'gam is perfectly content with standing now that the dragons have passed on by, leathers scattering the icy rain off everything but his pants, but every so often he raises one hand to wipe his goggles free of sleet and condensation. "Doesn't matter who the best is, just know that you have him here somewhere," the bronzerider aims down at Keziah, tone one of ambivalence, but there's a proud arch to his spine where the deeper connection between dragon and rider is being made. Both gloved hands eventually fasten behind his back, eyes lifting from Keziah to attempt to track the flight, other riders ignored, and likely for the better. Ittisieth tilts his head to one side, seemingly distracted from the flight for a moment as his tail flicks left, then right, and then- SNAP! His steadily-pumping wings find the hard-driving wind and billow to the stress point, driving the bronze down into the deluge with minimal effort on his part. « So we were, and what a glorious perspective it was. 'Tis only a shame that you could not venture closer; perhaps then, we might have had an adventure. » The baritone laughter in his voice only amps up the subtle fog of liquor that characterizes the bronze's mind, momentum-driven dive steep but carefully reigned, as if the bronze could ever be anything but in control of his situation. The crack of Zaruath's tail and Zaqalekhth's hissing go ultimately ignored, a sparing glance being given only to Adereth before he zeroes in on Alosynth again, entirely intent as he pursues her, mind already planning five steps ahead, preparing himself for anything.

Keziah can't help but arch a brow at S'gam and then gets up and and moves over to peer up at him "So sure that the best is male huh?" she asks and then tosses her head, letting her hair fly. Though it doesn't have quite the same effect as when it's dry and instead sorta smacks her in the face. And then there's a glance at F'yr and a smug look crosses her own face. "We shall see. We shall see." Alosynth takes a glance back and watches as they get closer to her. Keziah herself startles as she see's M'gaal move in. She turns and stomps away even as Alosynth herself pulls up higher into the air. The greens starting to waver even as the icy rain starts to taper off a little. There's a sudden gusy of unexpected wind and the lighter green is blown of her course and is heading towards the trees. Keziah cries out as her eyes widen. "She's still got her straps on!!" she squeals as she visions of her green getting hung up in the trees, not exactly likely maybe, go through her head and she's running towards the forest as if she could even possibly help. Catch poses

F'yr tenses up when Keziah moves, looking like she's bristling as she watches the greenrider's intereaction. However, it's really /her/ that this brownrider has her eyes locked on. "The bronzerider ego. We'll show him," she growls out playfully, body wired to pounce at any moment and the smirk still curving up on her face. She jerks out from the spot she had been rooted too, stalking after Keziah and yet respectful to keep some distance. For now. Zaruath pumps his wings hard, a shower of the icy droplets falling away to lighten the brown for this crucial moment, wiry muscles snapping like an elastic to hurl himself like an arrow through the pelting rain towards the windblown green. Pain and misery for the competition would always light up the cold and blackened heart of this disfigured brown, but the thought of the green's beauty and grace being ripped away by storm and trees has him bellowing out a challenge to the elements. The noose is recklessly thrown in panic for the green, tightening mentally, even as his body and limbs angle themselves outwards to aim in hopes of grasping the tiny green from the reach of those skeletal branches, into his own likewise embrace instead, wings just aching to pull away to safety.

The other males are simply not worthy of being seen, althought their presence is surely noted. No, Zaqalekhth's searing gaze is just for that green, just for Alosyth, even if there are no more words for her to be given. There's just the tantalizing curl of sacrificial smoke and the glow of embers in a promise of eternal pleasure, wordless symbols being etched out only to fade into nothingness before their purpose can be discerned. His pursuit is unwavering in his determination, his need fueled by anger and that measure of lust that still bleeds into his red-violet eyes. Any calculation of her movement is made with the distant sense of an oracle reading signs wrought in the rain and clouds and things impossible to be properly seen. And, lo, a sign: the gust of wind is followed and he spills air from his spark-chased wings. The hiss escaping from his jaws turns into a booming roar of challenge for the elements themselves and for their audacity; to claim his sacrifice? It is inconceivable! The angle he chooses is steep, perhaps impossible, but he must try to intercept the green before the trees can ensnare her — and such is what he attempts to do. "Burn," is intoned by M'gaal, the word flatly intoned and with a depth that might be more draconic influence than his own choosing. There's a shake of his head as he tries to clear it and fails miserably in doing so, forcing him to clench his jaw and simply bear under it. He continues to pace, though he's still some distance from Keziah … but his eyes are inevitably drawn and locked onto her, with his feet soon finding purpose to chase after her once she starts to run. Words? Words are not for him, not now, but perhaps there might be a flicker of human concern on his face in those moments when he's able to briefly push away the bronze's psyche.

Blue-green eyes flick to S'gam as his bronze nears Adereth and Zip squares her shoulders some, the brown doing the same, as it were, unwilling to give ground without resistance. The brownrider watches Keziah and the other riders, somewhat as if on the outside looking in though her attention rips immediately to the skies at Keziah's cry. Adereth lofts with the green and when the wind carries her at an odd angle, Zip's reaction to Keziah and the brown's reaction to Alosynth drive him upward and for the trees in an effort to offer a shield of brown against grasping branches. Said branches whip against his hide and his eyes whirl, body turning as one wing dips and the other lifts, his back taking the brunt of the branches, softer belly toward the green in case she does plow into him, the brown prepared to catch should green ease into his embrace. Zip trails along after Keziah almost in the same manner, "I'm sure she'll be ok.." she says as she gets out to the greenrider's side. « Careful, lady green, your daring manuevers, while captivating, seem to have unsettled your mate.»

S'gam lifts one brow, but it isn't his usual curious expression - this time it's more stolid, as if surprised Keziah is arguing with him. "I was referring to the /chasing/ dragons, personally, but you may take that however you please." Some dregs of the dragonrider's personality remains, however, a sudden impish grin flicking up the corners of his lips. Let them all thing it was the classic bronzer superiority; Sig knew better, and so would they if they bothered to reflect on it later. Tempered eyes watch Keziah move away, somehow upset, but Ittisieth's progress drowns out the worry. Deftly tilting his body skywards, Ittisieth is entirely grateful for the slackening downpour, better able to observe the sea-kissed green's progress up into the sk- Thoughts interrupted by that sudden gust of wind, the bronze observes the green's unexpected detour as if in slow motion, a distressed bugle rising unbidden in his throat. « No! » Feeding off his rider's sudden upset emotions, Sie angles his wings into that selfsame gust, motivations flying beyond concern for her beauty, anger at the elements, and the need to win; none of that was important in the face of the green's very existance, which he suddenly wants - /needs/ - to protect with every fiber of his being. Recent brushes with death have perhaps made him paranoid, but he cares not, shoving proper courting distances aside to thrust his entire body forwards, claws reaching out to snag those selfsame straps that Keziah's concerned about, hoping to use them to pull the green against his bulk, nose already tilted to haul them skywards if he succeeds… and if not, hopefully at least /one/ of them can stop the green's progress in time! S'gam, meanwhile, darts after the greenrider in a blind panic, trying to shove Ittisieth's needs away. "Kezi, don't, if they fall they could land on you and then-" He stumbles, shakes his head, and starts up again. "You could get hurt, stop!" Growl.

Alosynth scrambles to regain her altitude, fear from her rider getting through to her head and there's a piercing cry as the trees start to close in around. No longer is she concerend with removing herself from the prescence of the males she's now seeking out their safety. Perhaps it's a stroke of luck that she gets herself tangled up in the the claws of the bronze, or maybe it's his good catching of her straps. Or even perhaps having long ago learning to trust the 'healers dragon. Alosynth suddenly finds herself caught up in clutches of Ittisieth. Keziah herself has come to a stop at the shouted command. Again. Training? Or what? There's a whimpering cry at the sounds of branches breaking, even if she can't make out which dragon it is and then suddenly she's throwing herself at S'gam as she cries out when Alo does. So who originated the cry? Hmm. Of course, as safety is reached panic turns to something else and Alosynth wraps herself around Itti, even as Keziah clings to the dragonhealer. Which might well be a first for the poor greenie who generally runs from healers as opposed to to them.

Zaruath's claws come out empty handed, giving a furious snarl to the bronze that did manage to grasp the green in time. The brown falters too long in pulling back out, trees catching him briefly before he can catch the next gust of wind to jerk him out of there and back to the skies. F'yr's quick pace comes to an abrupt halt, crying out in a parody of her own lifemate's snarl. She doesn't give the pair another look, spinning to go tromping off in the direction that her lifemate had glided off to, somewhere down along the beach and for once welcoming the cold wet day. At least there wasn't much of a need to go take a dive in the lake, the wet rain and :between: a good shock enough for their ride home.

Smoke-wrought wings snap wide and then are clapped downward hard, just enough to bring him above the newly paired dragons in a sudden, steep arc. Zaqalekhth's hissing is renewed, only to be drowned out some moments later when he plunges himself into the waters below. M'gaal sucks in a deep, slow breath and lets it out in a carefully measured way, the shock of water to his beast being a familiar sensation to the man. The fire is gone, now, and it leaves the elements to sink into his skin. The bronzerider cocks a look back to the others with renewed clarity and then he's moving on, off to gather up his straps and mutter a rusty, "Serves you right, Zaq. Get it out of your system now and then we're going home."

He'd succeeded! Relief hammers through Ittisieth before lust even has a chance, body wrapping around Alosynth's just as it follows the lead of his nose, wings spreading hard and wide, lifting them up into the safety of the cold but treeless sky. It is perhaps too late to avoid injury entirely, the bronze's long tail cracking a branch into an odd angle, but it has never been more of a relief to see the dark and brooding clouds above. Panic subsiding, the red of the bronze's eyes bleeds back into violet, ignoring the fleeing males in favor of shifting his embrace of Alosynth into something more comfortable and ardent. Purrrrrumble. "Thank Faranth." Both arms wrap around Keziah, eyes shutting even as he feels the change in elevation as bronze and green head out towards the open waters beyond Xanadu. The other departing riders are given a peculiar look, especially for F'yr, but success has shattered the bronzerider's fragile hold to his own personality. Fingers stroke the greenrider's damp hair before S'gam steps back, shoving goggles down around his neck even as he tugs urgently at Kezi's hands. "C'mon, let's get indoors. Guest weyr has to be warmer than out here." Before he loses his sanity!

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