Chaos in Flight (Kihatsuth Rises)

Xanadu Weyr - Shore of Lake Caspian
The cliffs that run along the shore come and go, various weyrs nestled along the tops of them or dug into the walls, but eventually they recede enough to expose a beach. The white sand echoes the rise and fall of the cliffs with a multitude of sandy dunes, endlessly creating tiny valleys that are constantly demolished and rebuilt by the frequent arrival or departure of dragons. The dunes smooth out as the gentle slope approaches the edge of the deep blue water. The sand darkens, and a shell here and there stands out for children to collect.
The beach narrows to the southwest, leaving a path barely wide enough for dragons in single file before cutting in to a smaller, more sheltered cove. The sands are the same white, the waters the same blue, but they're calmer and more tranquil, more protected from the winds that ruffle Lake Caspian and the currents that tug beneath the surface.
Rough, wide stairs lead up to the meadow above and the road that runs along the top of the cliffs, passing through the fields and heading for the river mouth that can be just barely seen from here. The largest of the staircases up the cliff is located near the docks that jut out onto the peaceful blue waters.

Note: Thank you all who submitted poses for Kiha's flight <3! The result is below, a sort of 'interactive' vignette~

Time to SET THE STAGE! Is everyone in place? Good. DIM THE LIGHTS — oh wait, can't really dim the sun but it's on the way out down the horizon and that's ALL THAT MATTERS! Once the last rays bleed along the threshold and then vanish, letting nightfall descend — THAT'S when Kihatsuth will finally "wake"! She's got her GLOW ON, FULL FORCE! Come along, boys~ « Hello, dearies! » she croons, falsely sweet and deepening to a sultry purr of NO SHAME. « All this? For me? Ooh, you shouldn't have! » BUT KEEP IT UP! Or feel her wrath. DO NOT DISAPPOINT! She needs some entertainment with her meal.

Have you ever seen five and an almost half feet of bluerider take out six and an almost half feet of bronzerider? In a cape? With a beard? LIKE TH'ERO? BECAUSE HERE COMES LEIA FROM LEFT FIELD, THROWING HER TINY BODY AT R'HYN'S AND — "FOR MONACO!!!!!" SCREEEEEE, CRASH. … Right. This is about the dragons. D R A G O N S. Look, let's focus on that. R'hyn's probably gonna make it and, Faranth willing, Leia will survive too. Foryth isn't interested in any of that right now. Right now the lupine blue is adopting an air of One Who Is Playing It Cool and Also Just Came For The Food, little more than a graceful ripple of hidden potential wrapped in one compound, aerodynamic body exuding UNEXPECTED GRACE. LOOK DOWN, NOW LOOK UP AGAIN. WHAT'S THIS? FORYTH HAS YOUR FAVORITE HERDBEAST IN HIS MAWS. HE'S BLOODING IT WITH SUCH FEROCIOUS PRECISION. NOW LOOK DOWN, LOOK UP AGAIN. THIS IS WHAT YOUR DRAGGO-MAN COULD LOOK LIKE, IF HE WAS 30.38 METERS OF PURE, UNADULTERATED MANGON. AND COVERED IN BLOOD. Yes, okay, so there are sexier — DANG IT, RU. Stop looking at Xermi. Stop looking at Seksi, LOOK ONLY AT HIM. Do we have your attention back? GOOD. LOOK DOWN, LOOK UP AGAIN — oh fine. FINE. WE QUIT. … KIDDING. WE'RE COMING IN STRONG AND joke's ON YOU IF YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS A FACTUAL STATEMENT. The blue on the field is creeping closer and closer, perhaps telling passerbys that they, « Look a little like you're about to — I mean, sup girl. Don't mind me. I'm just part of the fence-posting here. Limber. And hot. » Foryth, that makes literally no sense. But look. He's rolling with it, tossing his head and throwing out his chest in a way that might have been heroic were it not for globs of dead-beast falling from his muzzle.

Skies may be clear, but that does not mean they are bright - not with Xermiltoth's blackened form briefly blotting out Rukbat's light as he descends from his perch on the stone heights over the leadership offices. His landing in the pens borders on reckless, hind claws raking deep gouges in pasture as, seething with want, the great beast's eyes snap to alight on Kihatsuth. This. This is the drive and focus that has made him the heir to what was once Garouth's kingdom, an inexorability that spreads its influence even now with a slow, heated wash of gold. It was not last time. It may not be this one. But one day… one day, he believes Kiha's flight will be his. He promises it in a rolling snarl that seems to thrum the length of his neck before vibrating through his chest and back again as, wordless, careless, he impales a beast on his claws and descends on it with fervor. "Just one," comes hard, serious, from the tall, stiff-backed figure that descends into their midsts, experience coloring his tones, brooking no argument from his dragon, despite audible grumbling. "Big baby," is a little more affably-R'hyn, slight warmth lingering in blue-grey eyes as he offers Ru'ien a polite nod and a murmuring of his name (and a certain incog-th'ero bluerider an oof and a lopsided hug) before settling himself in against the nearest solid surface, arms folded, seemingly content to wait out the flight until its result. Xermiltoth, meanwhile, completes his blooding, leaving his beast behind for consumption as he strides amongst suitors, whirling eyes taking their measure, tapping his rider's mind, taking who they know - what they know - into account before focusing in on Kihatsuth again. « A fine day. A fine lot. One hopes we will provide you with what you need. » By the sound of it, by the presumptive, tantalizing brush of gold where his mind meets hers, it doesn't seem like he means 'we' terribly empirically at all, but there's little time to dwell on the matter. He needs the advantage of being skyborn as swiftly as possible in pursuit of her mossy green form, and so he goes.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a love story. I know what you're thinking. LOVE?! DON'T YOU THINK IT'S A LITTLE SOON, B'AN? I MEAN, WE'VE ONLY JUST MET, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY AT LEAST TAKE ME TO DINNER BEFORE BEING SO BOLD, but listen. We weren't talking to you, Ru. « I was talkin' to you, princshess, » comes muffled from a scarred-looking foreign blue, whose lean, sprawled body is spread out on its back at the edge of the pens. « Have you tried blooding these thingsh? UGH. Orgashmic. » Is… is he slurping at a bovine's neck like it's a straw at the bottom of a cup? Are pale, pale eyes shifting colors to imitate a roll back into his head because it's that good. He sure is. They sure are. Seksicanth, folks. He'll be here all night. « MMH. Sho good. That'sh it, I'm movin' to Xanadu, because I think I'm in love. » Casting the empty husk aside, he blue sighs a long and satisfied sigh, wings and hindquarters stretching as one forepaw drifts down to scratch at his stomach, an absent, almost human gesture. « Hey, » comes amused and chiding, though whether he's talking to Kihatsuth or one of her suitors is anyone's guess. It doesn't matter. His overly expressive tail is curling up between his legs, which pull daintily up against his stomach with a coy, « my eyes are up here. » Teehee. « But alright, since mine has almost made it here, I suppose it's time for introductions, » he purrs in that soft and sassy tenor, wings sweeping wide as he hikes himself to his feet, body bowing into a low grovel. « Seksicanth, at your service. And you are… » B'an finally huffs and puffs into sight, having run in clear from the far end of the beach, judging by his damp, sandy, winded countenance. « Bee… house… tooth…?, » he says slow, as though reading particularly smudged words from inside his rider's mind. « Faranth, that's a new one, but alright. Beehousetooth. It's a pleasure, and it's all yours. » There's a beat in which milky eyes squint, as though not sure if they should mutually acknowledge if that was an insult or not, but, apparently deciding to roll with it, he hoists himself into the air with a grunted, « Maximum effort, » and flees into the sky to await the chase.

The scene is set. SUNDOWN. THE MOST DRAMATIC OF DOWNS. SUN. THE BRIGHTEST OF FIERY HOT THINGS. COLORS. THE PRETTIEST OF ALL— Oop, no wait, there's Kihatsuth. Look at her. All snoozy, sleepy cutiepatootiesugarpie. She's definitely prettier than that sunset. NOT THAT GLORIOTH HAS NOTICED, AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. No, listen, he's busy. There are EGGS here, EXTENDED PROOF of his virility. BUT HEY. LISTEN. Just because he has proof to rub in the snoots of all those other delusional dullards that can't even hold a candle to uhn-uhn-uhn, ALL O' DIS AWESOME. See him, y'all? See his heroic tiny self stretch on them hatching sands? See him abandon his eggs and his mate without any actual backward glance? IT'S FINE, INA'S GOT THIS. HE'LL BRB AFTER A QUICKIE. « ONWAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard!! » So, to the feeding grounds he goes, because where his sisters are concerned, TRAITOROUS THOUGH THEY MAY PROVE TO BE, he needs to be sure that they're impaled by ONLY HE BEST, a.k.a. HIM. DOES HE EVEN NEED TO MAKE SURE EVERY OTHER DRAGON IN THE FEEDING GROUND KNOWS HOW UNWORTHY THEY ARE?! Don't answer that. EMASCULATION IS HIS JAM. HE'S ON IT LIKE STINK ON SH-… you know what, nevermind. MY, WHAT A PRETTY SUNSET.

L I S T E N, Foryth does a damn good job of gaining it first or at the very least HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION! Oh, but how could she resist Xermiltoth? All that power bronze! « We shall see. » Coyly suggested, along with a signature mentally implied smirk (and hidden teeth). Then there is the wonder of the enigma that is Seksicanth, scars and ramblings and ALL! WHO'RE YOU!? Kihatsuth is intrigued by the flavored offering coming from the foreign blue but - AHH, there he is! Her —beloved BROTHER! She will crow croon, delighted, for Glorioth's typical entrance and welcome and LISTEN, the green is preening and PLEASED AS PUNCH to have brought such a chaotic miasma of conflicting personalities to her court! SO OF COURSE that's only going to eventually lead to a mood change exodus to the skies! Once she's done describing what she'll do to them personally if they FAIL HER (it has to do something with spines and a colorful manner of which they can be removed)! And what of the puppet Ru'ien? He's hot, hot, HOT and cannot handle it much longer — that restlessness, that overdrive of senses (mostly touch). Some part of him is weeping for joy that the END IS IN SIGHT but the mask everyone sees is more Kiha, as his emotions switch and flow in unrestrained visibility. No filter, no shame! What're personal boundaries? BARELY RESPECTED! Leia's exuberance to R'hyn is likely WARMLY egged on received, all while the greenrider interjects himself. Close, too close, 'dancing' and slipping by as the riders converge.

Damn right, it's a majestic scene! OF violence PROWESS AND ELEGANCE! Kihatsuth is going to do her signature move once up in the air and that is to just go guns blazing from the gate. Too slow? TOO BAD. Get out! BE GONE! You're not worth her time. TRY TO KEEP UP BOYS! Because there she goes, right out over the cliffs because who doesn't like a risk of being dashed to pieces against unforgiving rock? HAHAHAHA! Go on, take her taunts and insults and laughter! She will only soar higher, FASTER, revelling in her MOMENT!

So look. AUTUMN. SOME VARIANT OF TWILIGHT. It's a majestic scene, and when Kiha takes to the air, we aren't even going to lie: Fory's brothers can take to the sky in a sea of multi-colored pursuers, they can show the full intent of their determination to catch, abusing prowess and aerial tactic to impress she who has a chaotic way of impressing them into flight. But Fory? Fory has to take a minute, that small-for-a-blue body coiled and bent, pressing maw to the ground, whirling eyes set on the vision of who he could have were he quicker, faster, better, stronger. He is struck, one spot of inconsequential heat to the burn of her compulsion and then he's launching himself from powerful legs into the air, late to join but pushing the advantage of less drag (NOT DRAGON, DON'T GET IT CONFUSED) to catch up, to try and get himself close enough to ensnare, to see her in flits and glimpses between dives and twists while dodging his fellow suitors. « I know a place where all the stars will whisper our names, » comes in a spattering of the cosmos, a map to the universe, a distant understanding of the impossibility of infinity. It's a map, a somehow bone-deep knowledge of where to find things and how. He knows the layout of the land, of the sea, of this damn flight and, while that doesn't predispose him to knowing the outcome, it certainly means he knows just when to weave and bob to avoid — « HA! NICE TRY! » the eager talons of NPC FLIERS I PUT IN HERE FOR MY OWN PLEASURE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. Also, don't mind the call of Leia down on the ground. It's questionable who she's yelling, "ALL THESE DRAGONS ARE MAKING ME HOT. WANNA MAKE OUT?" to, but it is clear that she's yelling it from where she has now perched herself: on B'an's back. WHAT WAS HE DOING BEFORE THIS, YOU ASK? We don't know. But we know what he was doing between this pose and the next.

Xermiltoth hungers in a way that only one who has seen many battles can, knowing that victory will taste sweet, so much more so because this - this is a dragon he wants. For some, for the young, any chase will do, but he's had time to develop tastes, indulgences, to set his sights and hone his determination in the ways that count. It's this that has him sweeping high above the majority of her suitors, marking fierce antics with draconic laughter that rumbles and scatters like the black and white diamonds that dance from his mind to hers. « Such vigor. Few of them have ever known true violence, » accompanies images rendered in solid gold: a forest set ablaze by fire pouring from his maw, a canyon too narrow for the deep, reckless dive that shreds skin from wingtips. « They've never been satisfied. » Not by the first wind to fill wingsails after a long recovery, the first blooding after forced dearth, the catch of a mate that thrusts them into power, creates for them a legacy. All of this and more he impresses between their two minds, melodic voice smug as he asks, « Have you? » Perhaps she will find out, if only she chooses right, implied as his mind withdraws with a playful simmer, as though to leave her wanting more. If she does, she can wait for it (wait for it, wait for it) - he's far too busy tilting into a steep dive, one that has even R'hyn sucking breath hard into his lungs, heavy eyes snapping skywards to watch the harlequinned bronze's descent. Motion does much to expose just how wrapped up in his dragon's thoughts the bronzerider is, each sharp, aggressive, as he takes several steps further into the midst of his fellow riders. "He's going to do something very stupid," would be a lament if his voice weren't dragonlust-rough with something that toes the line of excitement, stormcloud gaze rapt as his dragon careens out of control.

Chaos you asked for, and chaos you shall get; shame you didn't reckon said chaos would come in the form of Seksicanth flirting aggressively with everyone in true hey-who's-really-hosting-the-flight-here form. At least he keeps Kiha in on it. « Hubba bubba, did you see the wings on that bronze? Mwah. Call me, baby, » purred with a flash of tailtips curled into a heart shape. « Hey, princess. You know what they say about bronzes with big wings, » he croons he skids through the air, pushing himself to get close enough that she can see the way diamond-framed eyeridges are doing their best impression of a browwaggle. It isn't pretty. « They have big feet. » Wild laughter accompanies the sharp tucking of wings, expressive tail swinging like a cat's because just kidding, it isn't really a flight if there isn't danger of someone losing an eye. Brown hide, bronze hide, blue, Seksi doesn't much seem to care - someone is getting too close to Kiha to be allowed, and damn if he isn't ending that gravity spiral with a splat of too many tons of dragon to the face. « And stay down. » B'an, red-faced and clutching hard at a stitch in his side, looses a heavy wheeze, frowns, and tries again to speak. "Sorry." Inhale. "He's—" Coughing exhale. "Excitable." NO FREAKING KIDDING, considering Seksi's attempting to use the momentum from his paws-to-the-maw strike to Pepe le Pew himself back into the air, hippity-hoppitying sideways to crash right into the side of another bigger, slower dragon. « Ba da dum dum dum, » hummed, « another one bites the dust. And another one's gone, and another one's gone, another one bites the dust. Yeow! » And there he is again, a jagged blue streak coming in under her, pale eyes spinning fast as he says, « C'mon, princess, sing it! » He knows she knows the tune. He can feel it in his jellies … Or maybe that's just the bovine blood talking. Who knows.

Of all the things that are absolutely infuriating about Glorioth, the most infuriating is that he's actually NEARLY up to his own hype. WATCH HIM SWIM THROUGH THE AIR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE. « AHAHAHAHAH HAHAHA HAHAHAHAH!! » GLOATS THE GLORIOUSLY GLORIOUS GLORIOTH. It all might have been fine. He's followed this green comet in all her comely chaotic chasing before; he's doing it again. It's JUST THAT EAS— WAIT, WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT… Distraction, thy name is DOPPLEGANGER DADDY. « YOU! » has nothing to do with the green who's - HELLO - supposed to be the focus of his pursuit. It's not quite that he gets confused about who he's chasing, but the accusation in his voice as he sights Xermiltoth is unmistakable (mostly because it's hecka loud). But spin up that off-key fanfare, there are some heroly heroics 'bout to go down up in this sky. It may slightly complicate things for the other chasers that while the embodiment of radiant valor on Pern does not stop chasing the queen green of entropy, he's definitely trying to plow a path to the foe-villain IMPOSTER. (Since, as we all know, Gloioth's father is dead.) If this spurs Xermiltoth to new heights because that sweet summer child of his coming for him WITH A PREEMPTIVE VENGEANCE AND A REVENGEANCE AT THE SAME TIME, so it must go. In the meantime, hopefully Kihatsuth will be entertained by his declaration, « DIE FLY, FOE-VILLAIN, IF YOU DARE! » Glori, he's already flying. « AHAHAHAAHAH HAHAH HAHAHAH HAHAH!!!! »

Foryth's offer of DEEP KNOWLEDGE is tempting and Kihatsuth will extend a coy lure his way — DO TELL (and yes, YES SHOW THAT random chaser WHAT FOR)! Xermiltoth's given a low, sultry mental-laugh, drawn for a moment. Hunger? Oh, she knows hunger (always, for POWER). What could he POSSIBLY offer her? Show her then, bronze! Prove it! Oh, what's this? Seksicanth is certainly earning his weight in gaining her HUMOR, if the way she uproariously cackles at ALL HE IMPLIES! Which she immediately AGREES, though she may have a few words for the blue himself — barbed ones, with MUCH MORE suggested there but only to entice him further (and damn that catchy but appropriate TUNE OF HIS). Kihatsuth's focus is on leading them away and away and UP! Always upwards! But nothing stops her from witnessing Glorioth's DEVIATION from focusing on her and at first there is RAGE disappointment! HOW DARE — but oh! OOOH. No, she reverses on that and delights in this random, chaotic, turn as the bronze goes after his DOPPLEGANGER DAD! « GET HIM, GLORIOTH! SHOW HIM NO MERCY! Defend my honor—- » HAHAHAHAAA… let's be honest, Kihatsuth has none but shhh… let the boys assume! "Let him!" Ru'ien's voice purrs just as deep and sultry as the green screaming up through the skies away and above them. He's drifted his way up to R'hyn but only circles him, predatory — but no, he does not dare touch. Close (too close) but no. Others may, but who knows? He is as much Kihatsuth in this very moment. ANYTHING GOES (within limits here)! B'an, Leia… ALL OF THEM, will have a moment with Ru'ien. Just a little sample~ You like? Make sure yours wins.

Kihatsuth believes she is INVINCIBLE and ALL POWERFUL (and ever hungry for more)! How DISAPPOINTING it is when her energy and strength fail her — and she will stubbornly push herself beyond her limits. Wings will sweep and strain against the wicked upwards spiral she's drawn them all into. PULLING them all in closer and closer until AT LAST she simply cannot and begins to fall back into the pack. LET IT BE KNOWN — it is a trap. HE WHO THINKS she will go meekly into the night will be proven so terribly wrong. She croons such sweet words but they are a mask to the TEETH-BEARING SNARLED visage just under the surface. FOOLS! ALL OF THEM. NONE WORTHY (but please, someone do catch her)!

As Rafiki would say: IT IS TIME. Time for Foryth to extend talons, to execute his final plan, to see if he can be the first to catch Kiha in his talons and fly her downdowndown in a spiral of chaotic give and take. THINK ABOUT IT, KIHA. Think about the way he dives, the way those wings snap in, the way he freefalls with talons outstretched, fearless and undaunted and intent on spending even one moment of time tangled in you. THINK ABOUT IT. Okay, now stop thinking about it. Foryth strains and fights and — perhaps he is victorious. Perhaps he fails to grab the green before more-deserving talons sink in hide and pull her away, veering last minute to avoid a collision. NO MATTER HOW IT WORKS OUT, FORYTH WINS OKAY. BECAUSE HE EITHER SPENDS THE NIGHT (okay, so a small portion of it but shup) TUMBLING KIHA WITH HIS WOAH-MANCE, OR HE GETS TO HANG OUT… while Leia tumbles somebody else probably, either way. It's fine. LOOK. BRIGHTSIDE: THEY CAN'T HAVE BABIES, SO HIS IDIOCY CANNOT PASS BEYOND THIS MOMENT INTO ANY KIND OF NEXT GENERATION. "WHOOOOOOOO!" is absolutely Leia, either tackling Ru to the ground or some OTHER POOR, UNSUSPECTING SOUL.

Or so it would seem. There's a difference between brute strength and determined action, a disparity between a planned attack and thoughtless violence. Xermiltoth's descent, though swift and unexpected, reflects forethought, shows his hand, demonstrates that suitors were subject to no less thought and intensity than the green herself. He took stock, weighed options, the eventual conclusion being thus: he is too bulky, too large, outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, but hopefully - hopefully - not outplanned. Not today. Not with hind legs poised, toes spread, crackling gold of his hide flashing, not intending to maim, but certainly willing to bruise and buckle as he uses his strength to shove a would-be catcher out of the way, forepaws reaching, wings struck wide as his body launches over the hapless male's and seeks to twine with hers. It is possibly too late, or perhaps, he has attempted such a move too early. The world goes on when your thoughts are elsewhere, and with Kihatsuth's size and strength, there is every chance that preventing one catch has guaranteed another, that he will be left skylocked and furious but maybe… just maybe, this time, his timing was just right. The sheer potential of his dragon's forward motion locks R'hyn in place, eyes pressing shut, shoulders lifting, hands clenched, entire body poised and waiting for an outcome - any outcome - to determine just what it is he does next.

Did Kihatsuth really think she was going to get away that easy? THINK AGAIN. He might be below her instead of above, but that doesn't mean he isn't paying attention - she moves, and he moves with her, matching to a tee, though whether it's imitation or mockery, well… It's a fine fine line, and Seksi's real good at blurring those when he wants to. « I like this dance, » he croons, putting a little shoulder-shimmy into the beat of his wings. « I don't think that guy's quite getting it, though. It's okay. He's a little slow, » the blue stage-whispers so poorly that the other dragon is bound to hear it. Frankly, he probably wants him to. « It's alright, I've got you. We can dance if you want to, we can leave your friends behind, » clap, shake, spin, « cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well, they're no friends of mine. » CLAP. This time the noise is made aloud instead of inside his head, the crisp, hard sound of wings catching wind hard as he catches a rising thermal before its gust has quite reached her, body twisting at the last second in an attempt to catch her feet in his. « We can go where we want to, a place where they'll never find, » because yes, he's still singing, spite his hearttail's attempted twine to secure her in against him, « and we can act like we come from out of this world, and leave the real one far behind. » Look. At least he's got the 'act like an imbecile' part down pat. B'an's muttering something to the effect under his breath, but shells if he isn't responding to Seksicanth's wild optimism, hands shaking for reasons that have nothing at all to do with his run in from the beach as he staggers up from his stooped position, mussing dark golden hair as he takes tentative steps in what one assumes is Ru'ien's direction. Or maybe he's sensing his dragon's defeat and running away before the rogue blue can cajole him into taking a partner anyways. It's definitely one of those!

When this flight is over, someone may need to have a very serious talk with Glorioth. (RIP F'yr.) There are, as it turns out, things chasers are and are not expected to do during the course of green flight. They are expected to chase. They are expected to out-do the other dragons if it proves within their capabilities. They (ARGUABLY) are expected to TALK A LITTLE TRASH ABOUT THE AIR OF VIRGIN SO THICK IN THE CLOUD OF CHASERS and maybe a little about the size of their swords tails. They are even expected to occasionally take out the competition with a well-timed body-block here or an agile swoop-too-close there. They are expected to attempt to catch THE GREEN WHOSE FLIGHT IT IS, GLORIOTH— THAT IS YOUR DADDY YOU ARE— HE IS A SHARDING BRONZE, YOU BLOCKHEADED BLUNDERHEAD. Okay, you know what. Clearly, Glorioth did not bake quite long enough in the shell. THANK GOODNESS HE MISSED (or only you know, maybe complicated things) given the way that other brown zipped too close to him. Obviously, he was just trying to protect his sister from the imaginary danger represented by the imaginary copy of his dad that is actually his real dad. Did anyone follow that? The point is that this time, Glorioth is not victorious and he is not passing go, not collecting any notches on his flight post (no, don't ask about the flight post; do not find out why F'yr agreed to such a thing, just understand it was a matter of SURVIVAL). DOWN goes the THWARTED HERO (NO LESS HEROIC, MIND), spinning in a spiral back, back, back to where one can only hope he will BAKE A LITTLE LONGER and be a little less him by the time his eggs hatch.

HOWEVER MISPLACED, Glorioth's efforts did not go unnoticed, even if he signed his own failure DOOM and fate sees him knocked out and SO CLOSE to the goal! Kihatsuth will not mourn until she is caught … CAUGHT UP DODGING THAT IS! Hahahaha, what, Xermiltoth!? You think you could out muscle her? The bronze might have nearly done it on cunning and careful planning, but she will slither away out of reach just at the cusp of it being too late. Oh, and poor Foryth comes OH-SO CLOSE as well and for awhile Kihatsuth does seem to court his favor — he's right there after all and she's growing weary of the games. It's not to be, though! No, tonight's VICTORY goes to none other than Seksicanth! Was it the dance that won her over? HARDLY (but it was a definite perk)! He just happened to time his exuberance well enough to be where he needed to be and chaos does the rest. Kihatsuth will fall right into his talons and if dance partners they be, well. She'll hook her overly long talons in and GRIP HARD (don't fuss now, she'll only dig deeper!) and let him lead on! Down below, B'an won't have to search long — Ru'ien's going to be practically on top of him (in more ways than one, if you catch what I mean) within moments. It's far from graceful, further from gentle but they're definitely making a stage exit to the LEFT// (or wherever it is they need to go and FAST).

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