Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of buildings, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves.
Stables and a smithy are settled on their own plots, while trees border the northern edge of the meadow, and a faint outline of a fence can be seen to the east.
Mid-evening lounging, that's what the pair is doing. Gold obviously glowing in the sunlight and the rider trying to ignore the obvious glow of her partner. "Your own fault, Avaeth." A pause and Zevida rolls her eyes. "Pff.. Is too. At least no one else is around.." She mumbles, tucking her knees in and settling into a fetal position, hiding her face. Avaeth, on the other hand ruffles her wings uncomfortably, impatiently.
When there is a ripe, gleaming speciman of fruit like Avaeth just waiting to be plucked, you can be sure that they won't stay lonely for long. And it seems that whatever he was doing, Dhonzayth has decided that the Xanadu meadow is a much better place to be, and he's settling down there, much like a patron at a salad bar, casting a faceted eye on the prime piece of fruit, even as L'ton slides to the ground, pulling off Dhonzayth's straps at the same time, before glancing sidelong at Zevida, grinning at her. "Hey again, lil'bit."
Who says nobody's around? Y'ki is..unfortunately. Not that he pays much attention to these things. Heading up the pathway from the beach with a towel on his head, the bluerider just makes with a bit of ruffling in attempts to dry out his hair. Dripping? Yes, he is, and not too surprisingly, considering his place in the dolphincraft. He peers though out from between a few folds of his towel, finally letting it drop to his shoulders as he looks at the somewhat curled Zevida. "You eat somethin' bad?" Blink. And then there's a L'ton there, to which the bluerider just..looks at.
K'ael has decided to stop by Xanadu after duties today. He'd heard his brother's weyrmate was pregnant, which means it was time to stop by with gifts of sweets and other yummy things. The bronzer has a small baggy with him, inside are fruit filled pastries. But he doesn't quite make it to his brother's weyr, as Azaeth is distracted by the glowing hide of Avaeth. This is the young dragon's first time seeing a proddy gold, and her sweet scent seems to be enticing him. There's a low pitched rumble to the lady of the hour. K'ael blinks a bit and looks around.
Tsaioth and U'nar, a Fortian bronze pair, were just on their way /away/ from Xanadu for a delivery when the bronze decides to turn back and glide down towards the meadow. His rider blinks in surprise at the glowing gold that was so blindingly obvious in front of them. "No. No, /no/, /NO/!" Stuck. The bronze gives a shake, clearly asking for the grumpy man to get off. With inaudible grumbling, the older rider slips off and aims a kick for his lifemate's leg who doesn't seem to notice but moves over to get a better seat around Avaeth. U'nar just shrugs out of his jacket, and glares at the closest thing: a lump on the ground.
Omasuth sneaks away from his rider for a bit, ploughing through some wild grapevines, the kind with pit filled fruit that nobody wants to eat. When he comes to a stop he's got a halfripe handful of grapes sitting between his eyes. The brown's eyes roll trying to get a good look at what's on his head before he notices Avaeth. Forget that he was seconds before trailing vines of wild grapes, THERES a lovely, golden forbidden fruit he'd love to pluck!
Zevida jumps at L'ton's voice, turning red and shaking her head, mumbling softly. "Go away…" Is softly given before she peeks at Y'ki who comes from the beach. The red shade in her cheeks grow darker and she stutters softly, attempting to hide in her curled up position. Avaeth looks towards the growing crowd of dragons, snorting indifferently. What a fruit bowl she has here, bronzes with different flavors, and a brown. And the bluerider without his blue, not that he counts much but still quite the different fruit. Slowly, she rises, spreading her wings slowly.
Y'ki might be a tad dense when it comes to things. Some things. But it really wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure things out with the way they are. There's a slight blink from the teenager as he takes in even more faces..and a few lamenting riders, and then just looks back at Zevida again. "..Ah. Oookay then. Heh. Yeah, good luck with /that/." Because he..is promptly heading away from the meadow. And shiny things.
Limerith is sweet and tangy, like a rhubard mixed with berries pie. He's a melt in your mouth kinda guy. V'gay meanders his way over, once the bronze gets it in his head, there's no stopping him. He pulls onna forelock at Y'ki's retreat and makes his way over to the goldrider "Ma'am' he notes polightly and with a smile "Lovely meadows you've got yerself here."
"Ah promise, Ah ain't gonna bite ya or anything. Ya may be pink, but Ah think an actual redfruit would taste better, no offense sweets." L'ton winks at Zevida, before shaking his head and meandering to the side of the meadow, out of the way of the fruit salad of males, though still watching the young goldrider. Dhonzayth meanwhile, croons at Avaeth, spreading his wings as she slowly starts to rise, wings spreading like a fruit blossom does to the sun. The other males may be present, but he has a craving for one golden fruit, and one golden fruit only, and the rest of the options are simply not options at all.
Zevida lets out a soft grump sound in Y'ki's direction, curling up tighter. Though, it's unavoidable, her gaze moves to the riders and she mutters softly. Slowly, the red colored woman ventures away from the riders while Avaeth moves straight towards the feeding grounds.
Dhonzayth> Xanadu Weyr - Feeding Grounds
K'ael slides up next to Zevida, then pops open the bag so she can take a bit out of what's inside. If she likes of course. She'll probably recognize him as a relative of her favorite bronzer, though him and R'miel don't often get mistaken for each other this close up. "Hello there, my blueberry bubbly. You must be… Zevida, right?" After a bit of stretching and peeling his wings off his back, Azaeth follows the choice pick to the feeding grounds.
U'nar snorts towards the crowding riders. "Give the gal a break. Looks like the dear needs some space to breath at least." He makes sure to keep his own distance, glancing around only when it was required, his dark eyes always returning towards the goldrider. Tsaioth was strutting his stuff, showing off his overly ripe golden wings. This bronze was not a young unripened bitter fruit. He was well on his way to being a big pile of mush, but that didn't mean he wasn't sweet. With a rumble he stalks after the gold to the grounds, head bowed low and eyes fixed on her.
Zevida may wander away but for a good, sweet piece of… fruit, L'ton will follow even if he's not wanted. And follow he does, giving K'ael an anything but happy look as he siddles up to Zevida. "Leave the girl alone, boy." L'ton pipes up, shaking his head, though he's still hanging around.
Dhonzayth> Avaeth seems quite.. Disinterested in the males around, instead, picking out a herdbeast. With the grace of a skilled hunter, but, the skills of a horrid stealther she downs the beast and rips it to shreds easily. Blood consumption, after a struggle between minds and she takes to the air. Avoiding the fruit bowl before her, who says a girl needs to eat her fruits right away? Surely the one that doesn't get old too quickly will be the most delicious to sample.
Dhonzayth> Dhonzayth follows the sweet fruit that is Avaeth towards the feeding grounds, pale wings spread wide as he stays hot on her trail, unwilling to let her from his sight, lest one of the other males pluck her, and prevent him from enjoying her. And then he's dropping a dozing beast, leaving it as an offering for the gold so that she may satisfy herself with it, before he attempts to satisfy himeslf with her. There is a time and a place, though, and it is not on the ground, for the fruit truly tastes sweeter when one has to work for it. Yet, it is ignored, even as Dhonzayth topples a second beast, this one putting a hold on his immediate thirst as he downs its blood, before launching skywards after Avaeth. To pluck the freshest fruit, one much climb the tallest tree - or in the case of the fruit that is the golden Avaeth, one must race the top of the tallest thermals and then some. And thus, with deep wingstrokes, that is what Dhonzayth sets to attempting - surely he is the sweetest fruit of the bunch, the best suited to be mixed with the Xanadu queen.
Dhonzayth> Omasuth leaps on the nearest cow, plucking the head off like fruit from a vine and tipping the herdbeast up like a bottle of wine! Crimson lifeblood dribbles down his neck like the pressing of grapes in a barrel. One final slurp and he leaps on a wherry this time, cutting the neck and breaking off the head with a CRRRRRK sound. Sucking at the delicious nectar of life, the brown flings the wherry away the way a drunk flings a winebottle.
Dhonzayth> Limerith is much like a strawberry, much sweeter with age. After all, who wants a green tasting fruit anyways. He watches the sweet, golden delicacy as she bloods her kill with the intensity of a fruit bat seeking out it's treat. He too chooses a couple of choice bucks to blood for the added strength they'll give to him, and if some blood remains? Well, it's just sauce for the pudding after all. As she goes up, he's after her with powerful strokes that take him up higher and higher. Course, he's not right on her tail, after all, even she needs a chance to ripen a little.
Dhonzayth> Azaeth waits until the gold chooses her first kill, swirling around the feeding grounds for a bit before divebombing a herdbeast. The poor animal below him gets mashed to the ground in a fantastic smoosh, but even among the broken limbs there's plenty of life giving juice left in the mush. He licks the beast down to the rind, then goes about mashing down another. And another. It's a good thing this particular peice of fruit is gigantic, because he's reataining enough juice for two right now.
Dhonzayth> Tsaioth lumbers his way into the pens, skipping a moment into the skies to dive at the ripest of beasts below. Old, but still kicking. The cow is brought down with a quick snap of its neck. It was easier to get rid of the older fruits laying around before they mold away, leaving the younger ones to further ripen for another day. The big beast was juicy enough for the Fortian bronze, biting into its flesh and sucking out the sweetest of juices before he discards it for one more. Quickly discarding this one, dark trails still marring his snout, he leaps to the heavens to follow after the sweetest fruits of the all, his own ripe mango-golden wings beating to soar up and up!
Dhonzayth> Avaeth strays for a moment, glancing back, perhaps to tease the ripening fruit of the basket. Or, to see which one will go moldy first. Either way, she releases a bugle before launching into the sky with as much speed as her golden body can muster. Up and up into the sun, which is good to make those not-quite ripe fruit old enough to become ripe. Or, make the ripe moldy and old. The upward flight spirals, into lazy loops that her large body can handle.
Dhonzayth> Limerith calls forth with an answering bugle of his own as smooth as strawberry wine on a hot summers night. Sweet and heady, and just as liable to get you drunk as any sour grapes. And when made into wine, the more it ages, the better it is. There's no going mildy for this delectable bronze who also goes good with a nice bubbling champagne.
Dhonzayth> Omasuth wings after the gold and three bronzes, a sour snarl coming from his muzzle as he spirals higher, licking the last of the sweet lifeblood from his lips. Whirling amathyst eyes tracking the gold as he spirals higher and higher, taking advantage of local air currents to gain altitude. The brown turns drunkenly through the air, lust for the glimmering gold firmly fermented in his mind. Suddenly a sharp elevator of air sends the the brown shooting upwards at random, Omasuth squeals in delight, turning the unexpected ride into a smooth dart downwards after Avaeth. The brown riding the intoxicating high of air and sweet attraction.
Dhonzayth> Dhonzayth is one of those odd ones that you can't judge just by looking at him - perhaps he's a bit tough on the outside, a bit spiney even, but within… Within is a sweet treasure that he's just waiting to share with Avaeth. Perhaps she can be the orange to his pineapple? The ruby red gold is certainly at her prime, and Dhonzayth is unwilling to sacrifice his opportunity to enjoy it, for he's spiraling upwards with her, his smaller body easily following the same paths, attempting to climb the thermal tree trunk, questing for the sweet fruit that is always just out of reach, taunting him as he craves to quench his desire with her.
Dhonzayth> Azaeth is starting to look a little moldy. He's clearly overeaten, and now he's looking bloated and a bit green around the rind. When Avaeth is off though, so is he, his giantic sails pushing down at the air below him. He trumpets back to the gold, and makes sure to stay as close to her as he can. There's a moment where another bronze gets too close, and they get a growl and a snap from him. But underneathe that tough exterior there's a sweetened interior, and some rumbling for the gold.
Dhonzayth> Even the older and near-moldy fruit have their uses. Add a big of sweetner, which Tsaioth has plenty of, and you have yourself a good marmalade. His bugle turns into a louder happy warble and his large body conforms into strange shapes that only one with a gooey mushy center might be able to do. Though he's easy-going as far as any other aerial acrobatics go. The gold is always kept in his sights, the glowy fertile fruit— Aphrodite's pomegranate, to be more specific. While he may be the closest to being moldy of them all, his age a weakness in this fruity battle, his mind and strength were still just as fresh as when he was first cracked out of his hardy little shell.
Dhonzayth> Avaeth loops back around, attempting to move behind the fruit bowl of chasers, perhaps even nudging through them if she must to get past. Taking samples of each as she passes, it seems to. Nips and bites, but none too friendly either. Poor fruit that happens to fall into the direct path of her bite. Devoured but not sampled, and, as quickly as she can she attempts to dive out of the bowl itself to leave those who've not died with time to chase.
Dhonzayth> Limerith darts from one particularily nasty nip at his strawberryness and barely avoides another dragon before follows after the falling pomegranate, he'll eat all her seeds as well. Last one down is a rice ball! His wings close about him, like leaves around a fruit, picking up momentum, look it's strawberries on speed!
Dhonzayth> Omasuth narrowly avoids being nipped and squeaks! An embarassed rumble as the brown mentally pouts at being 'sampled'. A drunken croon as bold grape purple colored eyes regard the golden fruit that seems intent on plucking /him!/ This grape isn't going to be bunched up easily! Omasuth veers away from the others, catching a cross breeze that will keep him within sight of Avaeth and ready to pounce.
Dhonzayth> Dhonzayth isn't the sweetest thing to nip, his tough outer exterior leaving much to be desired, and almost everything to the imagination. But, nevertheless he's catching a nip on his outstretched neck as Avaeth takes a dip into the bowl, Dhonzayth attempts to mimic her, stretching his muzzle and trying to nip as she flees once more, hoping for his own sample, just a taste, to renew himself for the continued pursuit. However, fruit is always sweeter when paired together, and so as she flees, he continues after her. Her ripe-roundness will not be ignored! Pale wings are spread as he protests as another male happens to cross his path, and dares to attempt to sample his dessert, and then he's diving after her, a piece of ripened fruit falling from the tree to the ground below.
Dhonzayth> Azaeth gets a nice hardy nip at his side. If one didn't know any better, they'd probably suspect the bronze has sprung a leak, his own juices dripping back down his hide and towards the ground. But even with a nip there was nothing to stop this mass of dragon muscle from rolling out towards the glowing golden flesh. Even if she was feeling ravenous towards them, he was still going to make sure her sweet scent was close to his snout. His ironclad wings beat at the air harder, making sure he doesn't find himself falling behind.
Dhonzayth> Tsaioth has got a tough hide to get through even if he was kinda mushy inside, and while he didn't too great on the outside it definitely got the juicy message across of what awaits on the inside. It will take more than a bite to get through him, though; probably some claws to peel back the skin to finally get a proper sample of inside. He rumbles in amusement still, his big bulking body trying to turn after her, following her example of biting here and there with a snap-snap of his teeth. He curiously even tastes a fellow bronze, to see if he was sweeter than himself. Yuck. Nope. Only the bright shiny gold will do, and he barrel-rolls after her, a fruity lump falling in what hopes to be some elegance by his unproportional body.
Dhonzayth> Avaeth has had her samples, and like all testing, she's full. But what taste, even the nastiest or the sweetest considered, what has caught her attention? Her wings calter as she slows and allowing the mass of fruit to surround her. What one taste does she crave?
Dhonzayth> Limerith lets himself pour out and about, his wings spreading outwards as moves to stop himself from plummeting to the ground like an overripe fruit and instead seeks the saftey of the heady taste of sweet ripe fruit. He'll drink of her juices and bask in the scent of ripeness, if he can only get close enough to smell. After all, it's one of the best ways to determine the ripeness. I'll be your huckleberry, oh wait, make that a strawberry. Limerith's strawberry.
Dhonzayth> Dhonzayth seems to feel that she hasn't gotten a true sample of what he has to offer, for as Avaeth is slowing, Dhonzayth is continuing to rush towards her, this piece of ripe and ready fruit falling towards the golden fruit at her very peak of ripeness, with his wings outstretched, talons aiming for her wingjoints. Surely the sweet-yet-sharp taste of Dhonzayth is a perfect match for the tastes of the gold? The golden beauty, the apple of all of their eyes, maybe be full, but Dhonzayth longs to quench his taste for her, stretching his body as he attempts to pull her upwards, and back towards the sky. With yearning hunger, he stretches. Perhaps there will be a delightful Pineapple and Avaeth salad tonight.
Dhonzayth> Omasuth turns over and over, great sweet and sour barrelrolls resembling a tumbling oak barrel of pressed fruit headed for the kitchen. All cooked up and nowhere to go, the brown croons with the tone of one intoxicated on freshly fermented grapes. He reaches out with his talons to pluck the one beautiful forbidden gold treasure from the sky like a farmer does a fruit from vine or tree. Affectionate, crooned overtures promise sweet and dry and sour flavors all at once.
Dhonzayth> Azaeth is looking even more green after all the flying and dodging around the other dragons. He's almost glad to see the gold slow her movement. Or he would be, if he wasn't barreling her way. He certainly shakes the fruit bowl following the ripened hide of Avaeth as he goes tumbling past them. But he's experiencing a hunger of a different kind right now, one that can't be quenched by the herdbeasts far down below them. He isn't bothering to swoop or swerve as he attempts to sink his claws into the tender skin of Avaeth's fruit.
Dhonzayth> Tsaioth pops his wings back open so their sweet-promising golden sails can catch the wind again and snaps him back from the edge and rolling back into the large cluster of male-fruits. The skin of mango-bronze was yellow enough and thin enough to get through at this point, just on the cusp of sweetness going into a mushy moldy mess— but not yet! It was perfect time to get a bite out of him for the gold to refresh herself with his promising juiciness rather than filling her up more to the point of erupting. Yet Tsaioth was pushing himself to the very limits to grab hold of her for himself, fill himself up with her very own sweetness that is better than any imaginable fruit. And he will fly, climb, and break his limbs to be the first to pluck the golden forbidden fruit that is Avaeth.
Dhonzayth> Avaeth is caught in a sweet fruit, talons digging into the golden flesh. Fighting the desire to devour the delicious fruit before her. And slowly, she does give in. Past the spikey exterior of the pinapple is the delicious fruity center. Tangy with a kick, just what the gold was looking for. Not too bland, or simple, just the right ammount of kick. Settling with Dhonzayth, the rest of the fruit are left in the bowl.
Dhonzayth> Omasuth sighs, tumbling to the forest below. Nobody seems to have wanted the barreling brown. He turns the barrel rolls into a glide and disappears into the forest, a fruit rolling out of the bowl and under the table.
Dhonzayth> Limerith bypasses the pair and heads down for the meadow where V'gay is actually looking a little relieved at not having won. While rider strides off one way, dragon slips off towards the lake to soak his troubles away.
Dhonzayth> Dhonzayth has the golden fruit that he's been craving from the beginning, and as talons latch into him, his own talons snag her wingjoints, pulling her upwards to enjoy her equally in turn. And so the two delicious fruits remain high above, out of reach of the greedy.
Dhonzayth> Azaeth picks up past the paired fruit and spirals in towards the ground. Looks like his rider's visit was going to have to wait a bit.
Dhonzayth> Tsaioth zooms off to the side of the twining pair. Oh no! She must have seen that patch of fuzz growing on his bum on her way through the fruit bowl. The old Fortian bronze glides down weakly to the ground, rumbling to the gray-haired grumpy U'nar waiting to run out of there and back home.
It would seem that Dhonzayth has got his sweet fruit - it would hardly be fair for L'ton to have to go without, right? And, despite the earlier cold reception from the goldrider, it seems that the Istan is wasting no time in closing the distance between himself and Zevida - a distance that had been growing incrementally smaller as the dragons soared above - finally slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her somewhere that isn't the middle of the Meadow.