A Golden Morning [Trith's Flight/Open]

[Kira]

Veneth preened when Trith favored him with the soft glide of her wing. Oh, she recognized his worthiness! Trilling at her, he continued his movements, twirling and adjusting his position around her constantly. Surely this meant he had her favor!

When Trith dropped over the falls, Veneth maneuvered to follow. He wasn't quite as prepared, but he flipped around to put his back to the falls to make up for it. He pulled out of the dive a bit sooner than Trith, slowing to see where she would pass. He did still glimpse the wonder that was her own change of angle, a delightful shiver going up his hide. She passed him quickly, and he followed, diligently angling up after her when she decimated the pile of rocks to propel her upwards. Through V'taph, V'taph-Veneth felt the weight of Samhara-Trith's regard, and worked his wings harder than he ever remembered to rise in the sky after his queen. He would beat that showy bronze!

But then there was a commotion behind him, and a brief glimpse saw one of the younger ones veer severely off course. A moment later a blood-streaked form flew up beside him, lashing out. He was caught along his side by the mad bronze's claws, long gashes slicing all down his hide. A few splashes of Veneth's green ichor joined the matted brown of dried blood along the bronze's side.

He let out a seething hiss, his eyes swirling from the lust-filled gaze of the Flight to a swirling mass of rage-red. An attack?! As the bronze flew up to crowd Dysiiliouth and Gareth, Veneth angled himself to his back. Revenge was sweet, and Veneth roared as he managed to rake a claw down the bronze's back. Sadly, the massive form shifted to knock him back before he could get at a wing.

Veneth snarled at the other when he noticed something definitely wrong with Trith's limbs, but before he could strike again the bronze had shot forward to claim his 'prize.' Roaring, Veneth pushed his hatred at the other, uncaring that it fell upon the walls of the other mind. As soon as that monster released his queen... Veneth was trained hard, and as much as his instincts called for him to not harm another dragon...he was ready for death.

.o0O0o.

Queth bugled happily at the tail snapped in his direction, working his wings even harder. The queen's rumble of encouragement would not be wasted, and he strove to show his might all the more. The water that splashed over Trith's gleaming hide urged him on, forgetting the soreness and the strain of keeping up. To be able to twine his neck about her...would be worth it.

Queth's surprise was rather what saved him at the waterfall. He'd been so focused on the golden form in front of him that he hadn't even seen it coming. It was a combination of automatically angling himself in her direction and the loss of the drafts that would keep him up over the river that facilitated his plunge. He was a bit more cognizant of when to pull up, though, not wanting to end this Flight as a smear on the riverbed. When Trith pulled up, he trumpeted his delight. Oh, a straight line! He was certain he could get faster than these others if only the course were straight! And the final rise meant that the Flight was nearing its end...which was rather good because he was mightily tired. Pumping his enormous wingspan powerfully, he gradually gained speed after his lovely queen.

Suddenly, Queth felt the wind knocked from him as something collided with his side, knocking him a bit off course. L'cin screamed in his rooms as pain lanced through them both. Shock was the overwhelming emotion, even as he kept absently pumping his wings after the queen. What had happened? What had...hit...him...? As the confusion cleared, brought about by the pain all along his right side, he finally saw the strange bronze that had joined the Flight. Queth bugled angrily, certain that this must have been the one to savage him. Then he was shocked yet again as the bully then began to strike out at his fellow chasers.

Something was definitely not right here, and Queth instantly tried to yell at the cruel bronze. However, as soon as his mind touched the other he recoiled. Something there filled him with such a fright that he honestly wasn't certain what to do. His wings faltered a bit - until he was struck with the thought that this...this...mongrel was after his queen! How dare he!

Pumping mightily again, completely ignoring both the pain and the exhaustion, he sought to snap at the attacker's tail. If only he could catch it, he could drag the other male back. It would cost him his place, but the safety of his queen was more important than his own place at her side. His teeth grazed the whipping tail a few times, tearing a few small lacerations, but he was unable to get a real grip on it before the other forced himself on the queen.

He would have been angry if he could feel anything through the shock. How could this even be? How...how could anyone hurt a queen? Especially another dragon! Terrified, shocked, and woeful, he followed along behind them, frustrated with himself. If only he'd been a little better, he'd have caught that tail and... But now he had failed, and all he could do was wait for that abomination to take his claws off of Trith.

Back in his room, L'cin curled up in a ball next to his door and began to cry. He could feel everything, from the pain and shock to the anger and dismay. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. He could only curl up tighter as the sobs rocked him and the emotions roiled through Queth to him. Though she understood none of the commotion, Brillia could feel the absolute anguish pulsing through Hers. Shrieking, she unwrapped herself from K'vin and went straight back to Hers, curling up along his side and crooning soothingly to him.

.o0O0o.

S'ren and Feynth both snapped to at Dysiiliouth's call, but with a fair amount of disorientation. Both of their minds were rather caught up in the lust and their bodies were both...similarly occupied, at that moment. Feynth was the first to recover, his conciliatory green 'mate' having snapped out first, being a bit older and experienced. He keened when he realized that his wings were still far too sore and his body too tired to take him to where he could help. He managed to climb his way up the cliff-face - long practiced from the days before he could fly - and set himself up as an alert to the Healers. If he couldn't help immediately, then he would set them to readiness when the others flew the injured queen in.

It took S'ren several minutes more before she could break free of the lust completely. The call, once her befuddled mind managed to process it, hit her like an icy river. Unfortunately it hadn't done quite the same to her two rather enthusiastic bedmates. Her ability to speak was still deserting her for a bit, so it wasn't until they had sated themselves that she was able to wriggle free. The first several steps were a bit wobbly, as she wasn't quite used to such interactions after more than a year of celibacy, but gradually she picked up speed until she ran out to where Feynth waited. Leaning against her blue, she took strength from his hide. There were few times in her life she felt helpless, and this was one of them.

.o0O0o.

Tess was running back now, intent on gathering her kit. Perhaps there were no humans injured, but she'd read enough of S'lain's books to know that she could at least assist. And she really needed to for herself, for two very different reasons. She needed to be of help to her people - her queen - as she had been unable to save their last one; it was a very personal need, to be of use. The second was to stave off the odd disappointment that she didn't want to admit she was feeling. Forcing the feeling down again, she picked up her skirts as she ran, making it to the infirmary in record time. Seeing that quite a few of those around were just standing there in wide-eyed shock, she rolled her eyes and started yelling orders. They needed the dragon bays prepped NOW!

[Plot]

He had taken the blows of the others with barely a flinch, his mind so focused on his goal. His hind-quarters, back, and tail all bled now, the ichor leaking to mingle with the dried patches of brown along his hide - leftovers of both red and green blood. But it was worth it, for the golden one was now in his grasp. She would be pleased. And he would take his own pleasure from this.

He carried her far and quickly, making sure to be thorough. The clutch he sired would be large - he would make certain of that. He wasn't exhausted as most usually were at the end of the flight, and he showed it in the span spent bringing her down. A good clutch it would be indeed. She would be proud.

They were beginning to near the ground now, and he knew he needed to slow. The dragoness would need to survive in order to lay the clutch, after all. If she never flew again, though, he cared not. Fanning his wings out, he slowed their descent as they approached the ground. He took them low, then suddenly disentangled from her, letting her drop violently to the ground.

Staying on the same glide, he beat his wings once, twice, and then with a mocking look behind him he went between. They knew not whence he came, nor where he would go. The pain of the cold in his wounds was worth the work he'd done that day. He knew She would say so. Reappearing above his own demesne, he bugled his mad triumph.

[Trith]

The ultimate joy of choosing, the fluttering of her great heart for her chasers, it was suddenly cut short as another took up the chase. How dare he injure her males! Trith’s voice bellowed both through the air and through minds as she exerted a gold’s presence of mind against him… and was utterly confused as it slid away from his mind like it was covered in grease and oil, hiding something sickly beneath. No dragon could resist a direct order from a queen! That moment of confusion bought the new bronze precious moments to further divert her chasers, and suddenly he was there beside her. If he thought she would choose him after injuring the others... but no! What was he doing!?

Trith’s limbs were tucked close as the bronze forced a malevolent mind against hers, and she shrieked in pain as her left shoulder cracked from the unnatural force pressing her limbs about her. She was falling for only a second before the horrid male swept her up, his filthy hide covering her as he twined with her. Trith shrieked again, a sound echoed by Samhara as the Weyrwoman tripped to the side in the flight chambers away from the surrounding males, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if warding the feelings going between her and the gold.

Trith saw and heard nothing other than HIM all around her as he blocked her mind and senses. His harsh claws and rough skin scratched her hide and his smell overwhelmed her. Lines of ichor were drawn where he held her and she still struggled, but he took the victory regardless of her vehement protests. Suddenly they were taken further from the other males as the huge bronze swept them away. Battered both mentally and physically, and aching in more ways than one, the final affront came when the bronze disengaged from her with a contemptuous shove, and the gold fell with a jolt to the hard ground below. Far, too far it had been from the forest floor, and something else cracked when she landed –a handful of ribs close to her keel bone. She gave an anguished cry, and far away, Samhara fell to the floor in a heap, the pain and shock too much for the goldrider as she collapsed.

The gold slid to a stop in a clearing close to the river, only half-aware, patches of hide scraped away by the skidding landing and leaking ichor along her sides. She luckily did not land against a tree or outcropping, which might have broken her neck, but the damage was done. A low moaning whine escaped the gold with each panting breath, and eyes whirling with muted reds slowly closed against the pain. They would be his children, his eggs. Never had Trith felt so confused and disgusted at the same time. She could only dimly hope that she would never have to see him again.

[Lothyna]

Chasing the bronze-and admiring even as they hated his trength for prolonging the clutch, V’ton/Dysiiliouth hissed together as they saw the lowering elevations, suspected the plan. The bronze pushed himself harder, trying to get underneath the golden beauty again, but was tired from the long flight, and was barely able to keep the tail-wind of the two’s passing, using that to ease his strain. He, they, knew it was almost over, eyes fixed on the injured form of their Trith, anger still tinting their eyes.

V’ton fell to try and catch Samhara herself, arms open, at the same time, leaving it an option for the proud woman if she chose. He was trembling, still deep with his bronze, shaking in rage at the injustice, the horror afflicted on their Weyr, so close to what happened with Silver Cove, and with unslaked desire, though that must wait, he knew, for a later time. Right now, his concern was Trith, and Samhara, and their injured bronzes and browns-out of commission for Thread Fall now too, which was a darker worry in his shared thoughts with Dysiiliouth.

Watching the bronze disengage and vanish, even as he roared, voice full of anger and worry, Dysiiliouth forced his aching wings into a tight dive, arrowing down after the golden form crashing through the jungle below. He could spare no thought for the vanishing cause, knowing that this was more important, and in a move that cost, and would cost in days to come, snapped the bronze wings open into a fan, abruptly dropping in speed and height to land, skidding, beside the downed from of Trith, eyes whirling rapidly yellow-orange now, still tinted red.

Trith! Trith, answer us! Please! We need to get you back to the Weyr-[/i] Dysiiliouth broke of his worried and hopeful thoughts at his queen, head snapping up to the sky at the others. Get down here![/i] The roar in his mind voice to them was born in fear for the golden one, knowing she had to have been hurt worse, and the site of her hide covered in ichor and missing patches, let alone the prior damage, was enraging.

Feeling the anger starting to overwhelm, V’ton carefully tugged at his mind with Dysiiliouth, sharing images and knowledge with the bronze once more, who still stood mantled over the fallen queen lest the bronze return. ~Dys, You need another. She can’t fly like that. We have the healers waiting. You and the others have to lift her and go Between low to the ground-I know the risks, but we can’t drop her. Bring her directly to the bowl.~

Disengaging aside from a small connection, V’ton carefully reached a hand towards the stunned Weyrwoman, thoughts tumbling over themselves. Who was Weyrleader, now? What could they do? What of the clutch? And more, how was she handling this? “Sam… Samhara, please. Help us. We need Trith’s- your- cooperation to get her back here to the healers. Please…” He begged, green eyes dark and bright with fear for both, unable to imagine what they had been through, how it must have felt.

Rumbling, the bronze warily lowered his wings and head, still mantled half-way, pinions protesting further movement. Trith… We can take you. Mine has healers waiting. Please. Let another help support you-he and I can take you home to them. I will grab your shoulders-I promise to be careful of your injuries!- and we will control the move Between and lower you safely to the ground. Please, let us… The shame in the bronzes voice was subtle, hidden beneath the concern and anger that lingered yet, for failing to protect their Queen. Hide dark, Dysiiliouth lowered his nose, wishing to nuzzle the injured golden beauty-who yes, to him was gloriously so even now, but concerned at how she would react to him, a bronze, at this time-though the longing was plain. A soft croon trembled from his throat as he glanced back up with one eye at the other dragons.