Midnight Rendezvous (Seryth Rises)

Xanadu Weyr - Feeding Grounds

A large portion of the eastern edge of the meadow has been fenced off, the corralling on three sides is located on the rolling meadow, while the fourth is located a short way up on the eastern hills. Within the large corral are a variety of beasts - ovines, bovines, and wherries - milling around, though the appearance of a dragon may send them one way or the other to try and escape. A small pond is set near one corner of the enclosure, and at times it reflects the low, bordering mountains.

Just at the forest's edge set under the tree line is a guest weyr for use in mating flights, a simple cottage made of weathered planking and grey stones.

It is somewhere between midnight and the dawnwatch. Xanadu sleeps under a leaden sky that rains steadily – the typical raw, cold weather of early spring that leaves the ground soupy and has people clinging to their warm beds and dry hearths. Upon the starstones the watchrider huddles under a wing of his faithful blue the regular blink of lights casting them in an eerie bloodred glow. The night sweeps have come in an hour ago and dispersed, their riders having made for the caverns for steaming stew and klah or to the hot springs to steam the chill from their bones. An occasional wher pair squelches along silently on patrol. Other than that there is little movement on this miserable night.

From the shadows of the forest a pale shape emerges, her hide visible despite the gloom, beaded in rain that is backlit by the glow of her hide into a garment of diamonds. It is Seryth and she heeds neither cold nor rain, for instinct has gripped the queen and she seeks hot blood and the skies. And suitors. To those who will hear her, she imparts the scent of raindamp earth and stone, the fragrance of pine in far off snowy mountains. A gentle summons, compelling, enticing, promising. There is nothing of serenity in her call this night but neither is there ire. Her pleasure is to the skies and those that will share them with her. She welcomes both.

Not far behind her is Thea with neither jacket nor hat and the Weyrwoman seems oblivious of the rain. Her clothes are not suitable for this weather either, the light stretchy cotton t-shirt and form-fitting trous soaked through, leave little to the imagination for there’s…apparently…nothing underneath them. She walks with a swinging gait, almost reeling side to side as one might in an earthquake, arms outspread to balance her. And she’s singing something intelligible. She’s…not bad, actually. But… is she… what? Drunk? It’s not the mud that has her off-balance but the overriding mindset of her lifemate. And her song is one her children would recognize. It is in the tongue of the mountain folk from Cold Stone.

One of the first to appear and answer the call is brown, not bronze, his arrival not flashy, nor showy, nor is it designed to draw attention to him in any way whatsoever. If anything, he lurks, eyes on Seryth and how best he might blend into the background for now. He drops down onto a beast with quick, quiet efficiency, silencing its cries with a shake that surrenders nothing but a crack and a crunch before his cream-coloured muzzle becomes stained with blood. Wait, what, is that Isyriath? The caramel-coloured brown isn't a common sight at flights of greens or golds, but today? And of all golds? He's interested now. Marel is nowhere to be seen. She's not followed her lifemate to the feeding grounds in an effort to stop him - surely she can have no reason to encourage him - and there's been no sight of her on the path. In this endeavour, Isyriath is alone, perhaps for the first time in his life.

From the skies that heralds the rain comes a bronze streak, bronze Tenth is here! His croons and carols of sweet nothing are aimed for the Gold in question even before he lands within the feeding grounds. Unlike when he feeds perhaps for the many green flights that happen within a weyr now he feeds quickly and feriously. The kill is taken down and he drinks deeply with both eyes riveted upon the glowing form of Seryth. Coming at a jog to here is C'ar who is hastily trying to pull on a shirt and jacket simultaneously and not doing such a good job at it. Muttering he nearly trips over his own two feet as he adds a third action of trying to locate the Weyrwoman.

Ka'el was an unfortunate one whose schedule took him to the skies this evening for night sweeps. Rainy, chilly sweeps that were thankfully uneventful other than the challenge of working with air that gusted, lifted, and dropped whenever it felt fit to. But that was nearly an hour ago. The young rider has retired from the skies and settled in for stew in the near-empty caverns. Stew, then bed. That was the plan, and the plan has been going off without a hitch … until Kanekith got wind of that fresh scent of pine. An enticing aroma of wilderness and earth that has the bronze leaving the clearing in search of its source. Thus, upon the abandoned table a half eaten bowl of stew has been left as Ka'el chases after his lifemate. Boots squealch in the mud at a hurried pace, but his dragon has feet, yards, on him as he lifts to the sky only to fall from it, a flash of metal gleaming with rain, claws sinking into a bovine which he immediately lays waste to, eyes swirling as he drinks the blood that he's spilled, glancing at the other suitors present, bronze and brown. And Ka'el? He arrives, eventually and in a flurry of branches and leaves, wet and wide-eyed as the congregation is seen. "What..?" Oh no.

As the males answer her summons, Seryth has stalked the shadows, eyes glowing lavender in the dark, carefully choosing her prey, then swept forward in a sinuous movement and a half-flick of wings that are then tucked tight to nab it, jaws locked onto the throat of a good-sized heifer. Her tail sweeps the mud of the feeding pens, perhaps tripping a few running beasts, but she's heedless of them. Not so heedless of the arrivals, her voice turns audible in a purring throaty growl of welcome, of lust, of deep joy. This! This is what she was shelled for. To continue her kind, to take the skies in fierce, exuberant flight and taste the heights while feeling the burn of blood in her veins. Her kill yields no more and it is discarded for the firelizards to feast on. Her muzzle lifts, her wings snap open and she launches in a fluid motion that has her lifting off in a blood-fueled boost that carries her into the murk above.

Thea wobbles and weaves, closer to the pens, her singing stopped only long enough to squint through soaked strands of hair at Seryth and mutter, "Blood… blood only…no… do not!" For the queen is hungry, she can feel it in her own gut. There are others, the Weyrwoman notes, and though brown hide of Isyriath is recognized, there is no dismay on her face. Another time? She would be aghast. But Seryth moves behind her eyes and the greeting she gives to the ones she can see is a lazy smile and a crooked finger. Her hello is sing-songed in a flirty style that is so totally like the normally serious woman that…perhaps she is tipsy? She flail-stumbles through the drizzling rain towards them, mud squishing up between bare toes as she resumes singing. It's… a cheerful song anyway?

Isyriath is not so experienced in most of the mechanics of a flight and what must be done to be the one who manages the best pursuit, and so he's on his second (or is that his third?) beast, his focus on draining it absolutely when Seryth abandons her kill and launches skyward. He's slow to take off after her, though his attention is all on the senior queen once he's realises what's happening, and then… then he stumbles and slips in the mud as he makes to spring after her, paws not doing what he wants them to. Usually graceful both in the skies and on the ground, can he truly be that inept? Or could it be the influence of his girl, who still hasn't made an appearance? The brown gives an uncharacteristic, frustrated snarl and throws himself into the air after Seryth with a snap of wings, though even his usually sure flight path wobbles and weaves.

Tenth's kill is quick like the lust that builds up within him as he turns full focus upon the glowing gold. As she snaps open her wings to rise he crouches low on the ground then leaps up after her with eyes only for her. Any other competition is outright ignored as his bronze wings sweep the skies to gain the altitude needed. His rider on the ground far below is clinging with two hands to the fence rails around the pen, keeping a firm grasp upon himself to stay down here on the ground even as part of him is now soaring after the Golden Beauty. His gaze sweeps to Thea to watch quietly.

There! Kanekith's eyes have found Seryth, and the bronze keeps watch on her while his mouth continues to busy itself with drinking in the hot blood that pours from the torn flesh of his beast. It courses through his own veins like fiery energy, awakening once sleepy cells and widening increasingly lustful eyes. It's a jolt of electricity that energizes him, excites him for what instinct tells him is to come. A chase! A race between himself and these males to see just who is the strongest and fastest and earns the right to pass on these traits to the next generation of dragons! It is a challenge he yearns for, and his muscles tighten beneath his glistening skin as he awaits the start of it. And the start comes quickly, initiated as Seryth takes to the sky. He leaves his drained herdbeast behind, wings unfurling like wide banners of translucent metal, and he lifts off after her. Bloody mud drips from his claws as wings heavily pump to get him airborne, and he's heedless to the rain that pelts his face as he goes up and up, his girth warranting him a slow start but speed is soon reclaimed as momentum brings him higher.

Ka'el is left below, cursing beneath his breath. It's too late to retreat now. Now that Kanekith has blooded and taken off after Seryth. Seryth! Both hands rub his rain-wet face as Kanekith's lustful drive swiftly seeps into his own bloodstream, intoxicating his brain. He's dimly aware of a familiar caramel brown that struggles to find his flight. "M..Marel.." Blue eyes dart in search of her, vision obscured by the rain that has flattened his hair to his head and face. But it isn't Marel that his attention zeroes in on, but Thea instead. Thea, and her song. Thea, and her drenched clothing that clings so perfectly to the nothing beneath them. His brownriding friend is suddenly forgotten as he squelches his way through mud towards their Weyrwoman instead. "You ….sound like…a voice from the skies.. Spring's song."

There are no thermals this chill, wet night. Only heavy clouds and soaking rain that weighs wingsails and slows flight. Wings already worked and tired might find this more of a challenge than they can meet, but perhaps if the will is strong enough? Pern knows what breeds baby dragons and strength of will is just as important as physical prowess. Seryth climbs in a twisting, corkscrew motion, seeking to avoid, yes, for now. Her teasing carillon calls, muted by the thick clouds, fall with the rain to those behind her. Altitude is what she seeks, the high, thin air where the stars shine and gravity is less of a pull on her body. Her path slices through the moisture-laden air leaving twin-spirals in her wake and she erupts from the cloud-cover with a spray of raindrops scattering in an arc behind her. Now her hide vies with the stars, the rain beading her hide sparkles champagne in their light.

Thea is soaked, she's sinking in mud up to her ankles, before them the mess left in the trampled feeding grounds, above them there is nothing, not even the echo of wingbeats to remind them of the dragons that ascend to the skies above. She should turn and move to that guest weyr under the evergreens at the edge of the forest, but that would take coherent, logical thought and right now that is something Thea cannot achieve. She might answer Ka'el or even flinch at the sound of her daughter's name spoken but she does neither. Instead she offers her face to the rain and laughs, arching her back as she tips her head in a vain effort to see through the clouds that shroud the flight from view. She should be shivering with the cold, but she isn't though icy rivulets run down her neck and into her shirt, soaked up by the clinging material. Seryth's blood warms hers…

Just as Isyriath begins to gain some decent height, it's as if someone or something literally grabs him around the throat and closes his windpipe. He suddenly reaches a dead stop midair, hind limbs and wings thrown forwards by the force of his abrupt halt, a strangled, dismayed howl leaving him as he immediately begins to lose altitude. When he finds he can move again, he twists to try and right himself, not to go after the now distant form of Seryth, but to make sure he doesn't simply plummet and go crashing down to the ground. It's a few desperate swipes of his wings through the morning air before he evens out and dives back, almost brushing the treetops as he swoops low in the direction of the meadow.

One less? Nothing triggers any recognition of such as Tenth continues his pursuit of the golden beauty that beckons him. Onwards he soars to continue his path spiraling higher and higher towards his goal. A snap of his teeth jars his whole body as he warns off anyone who dares to be near his bronzed hide. It's Seryth he seeks and he sends showers of thoughts towards her a a lure to choose him. « Race well my sweet but soon you shall tire. I shall be there to capture you in my embrace. » his words are flowery, a heady scent of rain after a storm races through much like the one that soaks the riders now. On the ground the rider groans inwardly, unable to separate himself from the bronze bullet that streaks the skies above.

Cutting through the cloud-cover is a maze of mist and rain. Kanekith has no time to look back and wonder why the chase has been lessened by one. In his mind, he is still racing against hundreds that seek to snatch from the sky the prize that he so seeks, and this is not a simple task. And he's glad for it. Things that come easy are not worth his time, and so squinted eyes follow the trail that's left in her wake, his wings carrying him higher and higher still, straight into the rainfall until the clouds are left behind in favor of the clear nighttime sky above them. With a deep-throated cry, he bursts through, wings fanning out to momentarily suspend him in the air as eyes take that split second to readjust. And in the next half second, he's mobile again, wings tucking after a heavy push forward. There! A shower of gold, glittering with far more magnificence than the stars behind her. The Queen of all queens. There is no purred talk given from the bronze. No sweet nothings to try to lure her to him. This is a battle in which what he wants must be taken, and as he bullets his way after her, taking is all that's on his mind.

Poor Ka'el. His mind is racing along with Kanekith's, a speeding bullet far above. He wants to reign it back, but he struggles to do so. That struggle is made that much more difficult by Thea herself, whose laughter and antics are making him squirm a little, his walk towards her peppered with more stumbled steps than before. A hand finds a wooden post of the paddock's fence, and he holds onto it tightly with a white-knuckled grip, eyes flitting from the sky, to her with eyes that are looking far hungrier than moments before.

Seryth's forward momentum increases, she seems aimed towards the one brightest star that hangs motionless to the east though all the stars behind it wheel with the turning of Pern. Higher still to where the air is so thin it burns the great lungs that draw it in, and the raindrops frost hide and wingsails as great plumes of hot breath hang in the sky behind her. She nearly crows her glee at her evasion thus far, thrilled at her speed the freedom of the skies as her neck curls under a wing to gauge the effort of her suitors who rise to the heavens behind her. Her desire to mate has only grown stronger with the chase. Her lovers, she decides will be toyed with and thus she dips a wing and tips in a half-backwards fall, the move a slow and graceful cartwheel that sends her into a screaming dive back at them. Perhaps she will scatter them like chaff before a sudden windstorm and so confuse them. Perhaps she will end this her way - the hunted becomes the huntress to snatch her choice rather than being left to the will of one who would try to make the catch. Like maybe Tenth there. He's a fine-looking bronze. The queen zeroes in on him as she nears the pack

Thea is Seryth. She is there with the queen in the icy skies, high on the freedom her lifemate enjoys. This night there is no flirty-banter or giggling antics from her. No awkward knot-gifting or shirt tickling as she's done in past times. And she keeps hers on. For now. She just… stands there in the mud bare footed in her sodden, clinging clothing and… sings to the rain for a few bars longer. It's Seryth's dive that halts the song and her eyes half-lid as she drops her chin to stare at the riders whom she's been aware of throughout her song. A secretive and seductive smile forms as she watches, but her stance is as relaxed and unstable as it was when she stumbled from the sanctuary of her cottage.

Tenth will not be denied this. Without words now he sends forward emotions like waves of water rushing forward against the banks, unable to be held or restrained. Today he shall be victorious in his pursuits! His thoughts beckon her closer and his wings pummel the wind as he rides across thermals with no regard to anything but his goal. Ultimately it shall be her choice and this he knows but he races onwards towards her with blind disregard to anyone else around her. It's soon clear what his intention is which is to race forwards with intention of simply reaching to make the catch as he sees her zeroing in closer.

Back on the ground Tenth's rider is focusing fully on Thea now as he steps closer. Not too close but he listens with his head cocked slightly to one side as the song to the rain continues for a bit before it fades. Swallowing once he shoves his hands deep within his pockets to resist the temptation to reach for Thea.

Oh, that other bronze. Kanekith nearly forgot to keep his eyes out for trouble, and trouble comes in the form of Tenth's teeth that snap his way, earning a snarl and a snap back from him. He's not afraid to bully his way through this, but instead he separates himself from the other male a ways, widening the gap between them while still climbing. His breathing becomes labored. He's tired. He's flown all night already, and his lungs scream for air far thicker than the thin, cold breaths he's sucking in now. But he doesn't give up despite the ache of his muscles and tightness to his chest as they test their limits of just how high they can go. And then suddenly, the tables are turned. The golden streak of the racing star is now racing towards them, aiming to crash? To scatter! To test their nerves. Kanekith's flight doesn't waver, though Seryth's path is not towards him. Not towards him at all! His queen will not be lost to this joker of a bronze, for he is the king meant to capture her! He roars indignantly, angrily! And it's angrily that he suddenly lurches his flight back towards Tenth, his burning wings pumping furiously to force himself into his flight path, lurching ahead of him with clawed paws outstretched. The opportunistic bronze strikes again. Hello Seryth. Cling!

The noise that emits from Ka'el's throat sounds more animalistic than human. A grunted sort of moan made as he pushes away from the fence that he's been using to keep himself at bay. Now he's stalking, no, rushing towards Thea who stands there in the rain in sodden clothing. Tenth's rider is bypassed, barrelled past to get to her, this woman who he has respected (and not-so-secretly crushed on) since the boyish age fourteen, newly arrived on Xanadu. And now? Now he's upon her as a man, arms wrapping around her as Kanekith's limbs and wings do Seryth so far above them. He kisses her, hard and hot and terribly wanting. It's definitely time to tumble themselves into that guest weyr.

Seryth has, somewhere in the course of that dive, folded her wings tightly to her body to become a screaming missile most of the browns and bronzes peel off and scatter, confused. Two of them do not. The queen's wings remain tucked, her fore talons reach… and then Kanekith is there, where she did not expect him to be! There is no time to veer away, no time to avoid those unsheathed claws of his either. The gold instinctively reaches for his fore claws, locks hers with them to keep them from rending her hide. The impact is violent. Her speed is greater than his and it sends them cartwheeling across the sky. Now Seryth's wings flare, another instinctive move, which aids in sending the pair in an upcurve back to gain the height the gold lost in the dive. It's possible she may shake loose and dive for Tenth again unless…

Thea's head snaps back with the force of the impact felt through Seryth. Her eyes glazed over, don't feel the rainwater running into them. She is not aware which rider's arms reach, whose mouth takes hers, only aware of the dizzy flood of Seryth's desire that rises in her to engulf who she is and what she does… She kisses back, her arms sliding up shoulders to wrap around the person's neck as her body moulds to his. Later she'll be aware. Now? No. There's a guest Weyr? She will not be able to navigate the way there, but she will be led or dragged or carried. It's that or… the rain and mud, both of which she is heedless of.

"Nooo….." is the low moan from C'ar who sinks to his knees heedless of the other rider who barrels past him on his way to Thea. The songbird Weyrwoman is forever out of his grasp but engrained in his memory for all times as is the song she sang to the rain. But to him it'll always be the song she sang to him. Above them as Kanekith lurches ahead, gaining precious ground and then suddenly is once more a winner the bronze bugles his outrage even as he alters course to veer quickly over the pair. Anger and defeat causes his sound of despair to echo wildly across the weyr for all to know this outrage! It was he that she wanted and what seems like a blink the beautiful golden Seryth is gone…out of his grasp for good! Noooo…..

Ka'el is aware of the confusion in the sky, for it's echoed in the confusion in his head. Tumbling. Claws. The fight of strength against strength. But from where he stands, there is no confusion. Merely pressed lips and pressed bodies and hands that feel and grope and tug. Above him, the confusion is sorting itself out. There are no other contenders, just Kanekith whose flight lust makes his motions to grab onto the gold in just the right way frantic and rough as their bodies twist in the sky. Their rise will eventually curve down into a fall. Eventually he'll get to where he needs to be and their battle will turn into a different kind of toussle as they make that long descent back towards the earth. And Ka'el succumbs to it all, unable to resist what his body feels it has to do. There will be no mud. Well, none other than what's already collected on boots, trousers, and bare ankles, for Thea is soon lifted in his arms in what seems like an effortless motion, his grip upon her tight. The kiss is broken only long enough for him to look ahead, rain still falling upon them both, and navigate his way to that ready guest weyr into which they both disappear behind a slammed door, not to be seen again until the morning.

Seryth finds her neck and tail twined. There will be no escape and she's finding herself too tired to try beyond a few experimental tugs. Wings flared, they'll both slow their descent and the queen settles to ripple her pleasure, a hum of satisfaction replacing the flirtatious tease she'd led the pack with. The stars last as they float leisurely towards the ground until the cloud’s embrace swallows them. After they part to settle back to land, her smug contentment will bathe the weyr, a balm after her tumultuous lust swept through it.

Thea IS the confusion overhead - or she thinks/feels as if she is. Arms lift her and she assists the effort by wrapping her legs about the waiste of whoever it is, seeking to find the mouth that has left hers while her fingers rake through someone's wet hair. Self-contained in most cases, she is a passionate woman inside and Seryth… well Seryth isn't helping her keep that under wraps!

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License