Catch Me If You Can (Miraneith Rises)

Western Weyr - Lagoon Shore
A sandy beach running along the edge of the lagoon, between the sparkling waters and the bowl. Sometimes riders and dragons are seen playing in the water nearby or a dolphin can be seen cavorting. At other times seacraft can be seen coming in under the arch to dock. The lagoon is large enough to fill a quarter of the length of the bowl. A path winds out along a ledge out to the docks to the southwest, the lagoon to the west and the bowl to the east.

The heat of the tropical sun seems to beat down mercilessly upon the pale sands that rim the cool inviting waters of the Weyr Lagoon, full of activity now with beachgoers seeking to frolic and sport in the lagoon. Dragons have come here too, bronze, brown, blue and green all romping about in the deeper waters or stretched full length upon the warm sands, soaking in the rays of the sun. So too finds the golden form of Miraneith, the Weyr's senior queen having positioned herself in the full sun, hide glistening with oil, good health and /something/ more. Nearly blindingly bright now, the gold comes to her full awareness — ravenous, thirsting and angry. Her wings sweep wide, her thick tail lashing over the sand as the gold lunges to her feet, snarling in demand at those dragons who chose today of all days to frequent the beach. A roar, teeth bared, the gold turns the scene from playful amusement to chaos as with a mighty spring and powerful beats of her wings, she is airborne — scattering beachgoers in her wake. Her destination is the feeding corrals, and the already panicked herd of bovines beginning to bellow and run about in concern. No easy grace here, the queen merely drops, coming down hard on a large bullock, teeth already latching around his jaws as he meets his end in a splatter of gore.

It had been supposed to be a holiday, a chance to relax and rest, but Enka was well aware of Miraneith's moods. In fact, she had tried to persuade her lifemate to remain at home, to nap and rest in the coolness of the stone cavern they called their abode. But the dragon would have none of it — sure signs that she wished to begin her prowling haunts of the male draconic population. It remained only a question of whether she would try to collect the blues this time, or was it the browns? Or would Miraneith aim higher and seek to corral the bronzes into her bidding. The goldrider could only acquiesce to her queen's demands, and with a coterie of giggly girly greenriders as her escort, had stationed herself beneath the shade of a large beach umbrella. An umbrella that goes toppling sideways as the queen goes aloft, bowling Enka over in a tumble of sand. "MIR!" comes her shriek as she scrambles upwards, gray-eyed gaze flickering over the crowd and any of those who might have dragons who wish to join the chase. No time to make it home — she whirls the other way, towards the patio of the Tiki Lounge, hurridly. The chasers would just have to follow.

Dremkoth hasn't succumbed to the lure of the cove waters nor has he fallen asleep in the sun. His focus on the scene of his rider’s business has palled in his scope of attention, his touch an ebb tide that receded from the beasthold to the cove beach where he’s been honed in for quite some time on one dragon amongst those gathered there, ignoring the greens as if they don’t even exist. Those poor beachgoers! Surely there’s going to be a mass exodus in the wake of the queen’s departure, the Fort bronze among them, uncaring in the heat of rising desire that they’re creating a mini-hurricane in following Miraneith to the feeding grounds. Once there, his attention to her doesn’t abate, even while he snags a beast to blood himself.

Far, far from his home, D'ani finds himself in Western Weyr today. Why is he so far from Fort Weyr? Well, he's on an errand. That and he originally hails from Western’s nearby Emerald Isles and having lived in the Weyr for 2 turns he's not exactly a stranger to this place or her people. Dremkoth has seemed perfectly happy to lounge on the beach with the other dragons lolling in the sunshine and D'ani didn't question that; Rukbat has baked the sands to just the right temperature, the teal waters beckon a soothing silken caress of heated dragonflesh. He might just give in to the temptation to have a swim later himself when his errand is done. Business finally complete, his steps take him not to the beach, but to the Tiki Lounge patio where he can buy something ice-cold to quench his thirst. He's acclimated to Fort's chill over the past few turns, so the tropical heat is getting to him. So gradually has the bronze stealthed from his mind that D’ani hadn’t been aware when Dremkoth slipped away nor what the bronze is up to – until he’s in the feeding grounds with his teeth locked upon the throat of a dying animal. It’s then that the fingers he has curled around his glass tighten in a reflexive move a mirrored attempt to strangle, well… his drink.

Basking in the sunlight, Indianath is the picture of draconic relaxation; until the mental pull of the proddy gold snaps him from his sun-soaked reverie and into full alert mode. Never one to turn down the chance to snare a new treasure, the burly brown is on his feet moments after Miraneith, bugling a response to her upwards leap as he follows suit. He jostles for space amongst the other potential suitors where they vie for their choice in the pens, settling to blood his kill on a low, hopefully unoccupied ledge so that he can watch from above, to be ready for the advantage when the senior queen takes to the skies.

Luckily (or should that be unluckily?) for Rou’x, she’s already in the Tiki Lounge when what’s unfolding outside becomes all too clear. Relaxing in one of the porch chairs with a drink in hand and her fedora pulled down low over her eyes, she sits up suddenly, nearly toppling her seat over as she turns to watch Miraneith, then her lifemate disappear. Her muttered expletive is audible to anyone nearby as she pushes up to her feet to look towards the approaching Weyrwoman, and she hangs back, uncertain, waiting for what Enka’s next move will be before deciding on her own.

Where the weyrwoman is, so is the weyrleader. It is generally true at all times, but more so during the time leading up to the flight of Western's queen. Not that Miraneith didn't have a mind of her own. She would rise when she pleased, and if that happened to be when Suldith was out of the weyr… that would ensure a shuffling of power. It is not hard to tell with the gold queen is nearing her time. If the glowing hide didn't give it away, just the fact that she is out and about during the daytime was enough to know that something was different about her. Suldith, with his small (for a bronze) form has been lingering near Miraneith with the rest of the brood. The bronze is in high spirits for certain, happy just to be able to socialize with the leading lady at a time that isn't early morning or late at night.
Of course all this changes in the course of a few seconds, as Miraneith is getting to her feet. Everyone close must follow suit, Suldith included. Though he ducks to avoid her wing crashing into him. His own demeanor changing from playful and cuddly to growly and angry. His head sinks low with his hindquarters raised and he responds to Mir's roar with a growl and a single pitched roar of his own. Ignoring his own size Suldith is one of the first to leave the ground on the short hop to the feeding corrals. As he does a low pass over the fleeing herdbeasts, suddenly his head reaches down and jaws snap onto the neck of a solid bull. It is dragged for a a few yards before Suldith can skid in a circle to a stop behind it.

Unless you're away from Western as a weyrleader, there are no holidays. Though the Weyrleader is known to mingle work and play, perhaps as a means of coping with the stress of tending a weyr at such a young age. Zi'on is on the beach, played out on a towel far from the weyrwoman and her gaggle of greenies. He has been trying very very hard to finish up some paperwork but failing miserably at the attempt. That initial roar means the end of his paperwork time anyways. He'll have to come back for it later. Though he is a bit surprised to see Enka running off towards the Tiki Lounge instead of for even a guest weyr. "Enka!" He calls to her as she runs by. Shrugging, he takes off at an even jog after her. They've got time! This is just the warm up round.

The titanic form of the massive bronze rode the waves at his ease, slicing through the shallows as he set course for the glimmer of brightest gold — the very dearest treasure — upon the beach itself. No mere watcher, he, nor content to yet stake his claim and tip his hand in the coming moments, Chaeth came ashore, keelhauled upon the tide, no shipwrecked galleon of ancient times, but a ferocious beast, wanting to strike out for his own, and win what he so rightfully should deserve — as his rider had long since told him. Dripping with seawater, he watched her, a growl building low within his throat as Miraneith took to the air, forcing him to follow, and aim for the feeding grounds. There, he can maul the beasts to his heart's content, and slake his thirst with their blood.

E'wrd was a lurking shadow in the inner room of the Tiki Room, hunching his broad shoulders as he nursed his tankard of ale, mind straying to the thoughts of his dragon and the golden form that the immense bronze observed. Denied, the thought was almost a snarl, blocked at every turn, his ambitions thwarted as if nobody trusted him. Well, this flight would come, he and Chaeth would have their rightful due, and all would be his revenge so rightly gained. All they had to do was win.

When all is said and done, the feeding corrals will be nothing better than an abattoir; the voracious hunger that drives Miraneith now the very cause for the bloodshed that she and her suitors inflict upon helpless herdbeasts who in their panic stricken terror are stampeding about — so easy is it to snag one it's like shooting fish in a barrel. Jaws clamped tight about the throat of the first herdbeast she caught, the golden queen sucks greedily, her jaws stained ruby with herdbeast blood. Flinging the carcass aside, she snarls a challenge, a long and furious hiss in Suldith's direction as she lunges towards a second herdbeast, her jaws clamping onto its shoulder to drag it back to her, a blow from her heavy tail silencing it before she's savaging it, growls issuing around her jaws buried in the beast's jugular. She bloods, well versed now in the routine — blood means energy, quckness, speed. Meat would only weigh her down, and so, with dripping muzzle she lifts her head, tongue snaking out to lap at crimson droplets as she eyes her would-be mates. Indianath's position on the ledge above is noted, the bronzes arrayed about her, and a meaningful glance towards the dark smaller form of Suldith before her wings splay outwards, and with a thrust of powerful haunches she leaps for the sky, twisting in a writhing spiral to avoid early ensnaring by ledge-perched brown. The meaning is clear, catch her if you can!

Enka has left her gaggle of greenies behind, her sole goal that of the Tiki Lounge, although she hollers back over her shoulder at Zi'on when she hears her name called. "No time, no time." After all, the Tiki Lounge is /right/ there, and moving all the way to even a guest weyr can distract the goldrider from the heat of the moment and the chase. "Here's better." After all, there's alcohol for those unsuccessful — they could grab a drink on the way out — and well, if there's carousing and partying to be had, the goldrider has a different sort of merrymaking in mind in the end. Clattering onto the porch, her eyes darting towards Rou'x and D'ani alike, she barks out orders to other patrons "Get lost if you 'aint chasin'." and disappears inside, presumably to kick everyone indoors out as well. Weyrwoman prerogatives, and all. There'll be no mere tent on the beach for her, no, she's commandeering an entire bar for a private celebration of her own.

D’ani isn’t the type to carouse and party – he just isn’t. No, his celebrations hark from home and hearth, a close-knit family and dear friends. It’s a flick of dark eyes that note Enka’s entrance to the Tiki Lounge, a wry twist of his mouth that greets her announcement, a lift of his glass that salutes those who depart post-haste before he downs the contents. He doesn’t follow her inside, hasn’t noticed Rou’x but a shouting Weyrleader? Hard to miss. He should go. Would go, if Dremkoth were amenable, but no, the attempt to reach the seething mind that is his dragon is met with a sort of chaos the recently-graduated rider is unused to. The sound of glass contacting wood harder than he means to set it down on the tabletop brings a barmaid to pour more, unbidden. He doesn’t need this. He needs— One hand yanks at the collar of his shirt, a button goes flying. Ahh, better!

Dremkoth succeeds in snaring his second beast, using an economy of movement, saving his energy while keeping glowing eyes, purple tints amongst the red, upon the queen. As the greens, browns and bronzes do not exist for all the attention he gives them. Ignored are the roars and growls around him, his focus enhanced by his drive. He’s after her a beat later, mighty wings sending twin whorls of dust in his wake as he leaves the ground, the claws of his hindfeet nearly severing his discarded herdbeast in two with his kick off. Let the gold spiral, he’ll ascend straight and save time, going from point A to point B in the shortest line possible.

Foiled in his plan by the cunning gold, Indianath is just a fraction too late to take advantage of his position as planned; but nevertheless, he’s in this race to win it and is determined to gain the treasure that is Miraneith before his competitors do. The brown’s large wings snap instantly downwards to gain immediate lift when he drops off the ledge, though his rise is slowed when he has to swerve aside to let avoid a collision with one of the bronzes also in the chase. His determination drives him onward, each powerful beat of his leather-dark wings carrying him higher as he attempts to remain a contender for Western’s most precious prize.

While Indianath has his whole heart in the chase, Rou’x doesn’t seem to be quite as ensconced in what’s happening. She eyes the foreign bronzerider from beneath the brim of her hat, not recognizing him but not entirely dismissive of him – an outsider may be just what she needs afterwards, after all’s caught and done. The brownrider chews on her bottom lip and scratches at a scar on her forearm, exposed by sleeves that are rolled up to her elbows, as she trails slowly after Enka, lingering behind a few of the hopeful bronzeriders and commandeering a bottle of booze for herself once the bar’s staff have filed out. And who needs a glass? She screws the top and begins swigging from the neck, leaning back against the counter with her elbows propped atop it to watch from the edges; she knows, of course, that with Indianath being brown she’s not going to be needed by Enka when Miraneith is caught, so she gives space to those bronzeriders whose lifemates could change their fate.

Was that a challenge!? Suldith is busy sucking down herdbeast blood like it was rain on the desert. But when Miraneith snarls at him, he takes a short break to give her a short growly-roar. A claw lashes out at the beast in front of him in a display of dominance, slicing through flesh and muscle now devoid of blood and leaving a mark like a slice in a piece of leather. The herd has moved from the dragons' location, so Suldith has to stretch his wings to make his next kill. A very short flight that ends with him tackling a beast to the ground with his jaws in its neck. The firelizards are free to have his old carcass. By the time Mir is splaying her own wings Suldith's belly is round with blood, but the weight doesn't seem to affect his take off or flight in the slightest. If anything it makes him look a little bit larger than he really is. The first bit is always the hardest, as all the dragons wing off and vie for a spot amongst the crowd.

Zi'on follows along with the rest of the hopefuls right into the lounge, eager to catch up to Enka. There's a blink as she orders everyone else out. "Who is going to pour my drink?" He asks. Then he shrugs and picks up a round of shots that was abandoned on the bartop, a nice even six, and then carries them over to where Enka has positioned herself. He sets the shots down on a table nearby then sits in front of them, looking up at Enka expectantly. "Better settle in, leading lady. Seems like Mir is in a -mood-." Whatever that means. Are golds ever not in a mood during their flights?

A stampeding herdbeast shatters itself upon the broadsides of Chaeth's immense chest, smashing into his keel with a thud that leaves the animal collapsed on the ground, twitching in spasmodic convulsions, making easy pickings for the big bronze to latch his jaws upon it and slurp in greedily guzzles. He doesn't bother to watch his competition, merely focuses on the process of draining the herdbeast of as much of it's life's fluids as possible before he dares a glance at Miraneith. That look throws him off, and he's late getting into the air after her, and in turn is nearly fouled by Indianath as he leaps off his ledge. A growling snarl erupts from the dragon. This was not going as planned. Focusing on beating his wings in mighty sweeps, he climbs upwards, aiming for the heights, far above the others.

The burly bronzerider is surprised when the Weyrwoman comes bursting through the door of the Tiki Lounge, nearly dropping his drink before a meaty hand closes around it tightly. Huddling back into the shadows of his corner table, hunched into the chair with a tense nervousness, E'wrd waits, blood pounding in his ears as he takes stock of those around him and the aerial height which his dragon has obtained. It's a waiting game, and if the queen is foolish enough to play into his clutches — well, changes are his to make. But if not, he would have failed again. Tense seconds tick by, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face as the big man trembles with anticipation.

Damn straight it was a challenge! With powerful sweeps of her wings, Miraneith lunges through the air, practically clawing her way up up and up over the rim of the Bowl, and veering off sharply to soar with frantic haste out over the sea. Flight is her goal now, to fly and fly and fly fast and far — the thrill of the chase and pursuit as she challenges her male followers to prove themselves worthy of her in this venture. Brightly gleaming, she flashes over the sunlit waters far below, her wings throwing shadows upon the azure depths. Forward, always forward, although she dares risk a snaking glance back over her shoulder, teeth drawing back from her short-muzzled face. Still, they follow! Well, she will show them, she'll fly, until she can nearly fly no more. And the last bronze — or brown — standing (or gliding as the case might be) just might the one to wrest the prize of Western's pride from the skies.

It is amazing what the perks of being a Weyrwoman can do. The proprietor of the Tiki Lounge wouldn't dare protest Enka's orders, she might order tariffs or taxes or something equally vile and villainous that could affect his business far more permanently than turning the bar over to her private amusement for an afternoon. Besides, no doubt, the bartenders are setting up betting booths on the beach, easy money to be had as they wager and haggle over the outcome of the flight. "Pour it yourself," Enka snaps at Zi'on for a moment, the words a faint hiss — although obviously she's far more affected by Miraneith's mood rather than this being an unseen aspect of her character. "Or that," her smile — offered faintly — tries to make up for the emotional upheaval coursing through her blood, and she begins to pace, roving about the bar and the empty tables, snatching at cushions and pillows that lie scattered about on chairs and benches, tossing them onto the stage as she goes. "I can't settle, Zi. I just can't." Which probably explains why she's moving about so much. Close to Rou'x, she shoots the brownrider a look. "Drink, I need one of those."

Dremkoth will save his breath, forgoing adding his voice to the roars reverberating over the mess in the feeding pens to give chase as a silent hunter. Bronze hide ripples over straining muscles as he beats upwards, rising into the skies faster than he has ever done before. At a lower altitude, he veers when Miraneith does, catching a thermal over the warm waters offshore that assists his lift and brings him within range to be amongst the contenders. Still focused for now on simply keeping up, he all but ignores the other browns and bronzes save to avoid colliding with them.

D’ani remains at his table as the last few people exit the lounge, unseeing eyes on his refilled drink. His mind is filled with blue sky stirred by a flurry of wings, consumed by the golden hide that lures his lifemate. Dark eyes lift from his drink to follow the pacing Enka. She needs a drink, does she? His half-lidded regard never leaves her even as he lifts his glass in a subtle invitation for her to come and share his.

Seawards-bound they are, then! Indianath dips his wing to turn after Miraneith, losing a little of any advantage he’d managed to gain in being just a /fraction/ too slow in anticipating her move – but he also gains a little by being more nimble than some of the larger bronzes, even though those bronzes smaller than him likely have the upper hand in manoeuvrability. Determination has the burly brown pressing forward more strongly to outfly his competitors and capture the treasure that is Western’s queen.

Rou’x’s been relegated to bartender? She can handle that. She can /definitely/ handle that. Nodding at Enka, she takes the shortcut to behind the bar by hopping up and over it, clumsily knocking bottles, discarded glasses and other paraphernalia to the side as she does so. With access to everything the Tiki Lounge has to offer she stars pulling up random liqueurs and spirits, not having a clue what to give the Weyrwoman. As each bottle is turned down as being wrong they’re dropped on the floor or set on the counter; who has time to put them away when there are more pressing matters at hand? Settling for a selection – a cocktail poured from a shaker abandoned by a bartender, a decent bottle of plain spirits and a bottle of Benden – she grabs glass and her own commandeered bottle of booze and slips out from behind the bar to present them to the restless Enka. “Your choice,” she murmurs gruffly, holding out the options. “An’ the rest’ve you c’n take the rest.”

One could never really stretch their wings in a green flight. They were always too short and the greens want to zig and zag all over the place, making it hard to really -fly-. But in a gold flight, one like this, a dragon could really work his wings. And that is what Suldith is doing. He may not be as big as the queen, but he can still give her a run for her money! Wings propel Suldith forward, and he fights the thermals to keep on track with Miraneith. Jaws snap menacingly from the small bronze, a warning to one of his competitors that they are venturing too close to him. There is nothing in his vision right now other than the gleaming queen, the warm sunny day fades away around the bronze as he bares his teeth and presses forward.

It's not like the chasers were likely to get into a brawl or go crazy with the drinking anyways. Plus it would give the lounge owner something to brag about, having the weyrwoman take over the bar for her flight and all. Zi'on brows furrow at Enka's snap. He is close to a retort, then his demeanor changes and he laughs instead. "Shards and shells. Rude to me…" Zi'on starts in on the round of shots, looking around for something to chase with. He finds an unfinished drink of the fruity variety and decides that will do. There's an odd look as Enka starts collecting pillows, until he realizes what they are likely for. She's building a nest! "Suit yourself." Zi'on just stays seated for now, concentrating on the little shot glasses in front of him and draining a second. It was easier this way, to focus in on his dragon and the glasses in front of him. And not muddle his brain up with worries the Suldith may not catch this time.

Chaeth climbs, higher and higher, up and up, using the thermals over the water to make for higher air, far above the glimmering sheen of golden queen against the water, tracking her across the expanse of the western sea. His wings beat steady and sure — each powerful upbeat and downbeat driving him forwards in pursuit of that glittered treasure, as he gauges the moment, and then arcs downwards in a plummeting dive, talons extended outwards to try and snatch at Miraneith from above, attempting to wrest that which is not rightfully his in surprise and confusion.

A muttered oath, hands catching around the edge of his table, E'wrd is on his feet, chair clattering backwards as he emerges from the shadowed corner, wrenching the table aside, covetous eyes cast upon the prowling form of the Weyrwoman, and he just starts towards her, coming to a stop as Chaeth makes his move, teeth clenching into a growl of anticipation.

Azure below, and sapphire above, Miraneith glides through a blue world, her short neck strained forwards as her wings beat at the air, propelled onwards by the fervent desire to GET AWAY! A shadow from above, the screech of air is all that warns her, and she plummets downwards somewhat, narrowly avoid the snatching claws of Chaeth, the golden queen snarling in fury at his audacious treachery. She is NOT HIS, not to be won by foul tricks as that, and she snaps her jaws at him as she goes, catching the end of his tail in a messy gash before veering sideways to put distance between her and the bronze dragon. It's a bad move, spent as she is, she's unable to gain greater height, weary wing beats slowing her to the point that her pursuit will be upon her momentarily. The chase is over, soon she will be claimed and won… but by who?

"I'm … I'm /sorry/" Enka certainly sound contrite as she flashes Zi'on a look. "I'm not /tryin'/ to be rude, it's just …" she breaks off, fidgeting and pacing about. She is building a nest, a snuggly little stage-bound boudoir which is at least decently padded enough as lounging pads go — it might not be plush and down-filled mattresses, but pillows and cushions will at least soften the … ahem, experience. "I'll make it up to you." That is, if Zi'on is the lucky winner or something. The offered cocktail shaker from Rou'x is accepted with murmured thanks, Enka holding it in hand and sipping at his as she moves. But more, does she want more? D'ani's uplifted glass catches her eye, and she turns to start towards the young bronzerider, only to come around sharply, glaring at E'wrd with steely gray eyes. "You … bastard." Fingers tighten around the cocktail glass, as she advances on him with something akin to anger. "Could've hurt her with that move, aint yours to mess with. Never ever." She flings the glass at him, spinning away to retreat to the stage without looking back. He's out of the game, she won't even demean herself by acknowledging it, all she can do is wait for the moment of capture now.

Dremkoth’s lithe form and smaller size – smaller than some browns – allows for some deft flying and the bronze takes full advantage of this to be close enough that he’s dodging that snap from Suldith and pressing onwards. The move from above by the burly Chaeth followed by Miranaith’s dive prompts him to fold his wings and follow, all other contenders forgotten as he swoops in to claim the prize, seeking to entangle the gold in his embrace.

D’ani remains intent upon Enka. Though he’s aware of what the buxom brownrider is doing behind the bar, he’s uninterested in both her and the liquor, which is, in part due to Dremkoth’s fixation on the gold leading the chase. He’s mirroring his bronze at the moment and so even the Weyrleader’s comments to the woman near the stage are but dimly heard. Even when the clatter of the tossed aside table from the corner brings the bulk of the unknown rider from the shadows, the Fort bronzerider pays him little attention. As Enka turns for the stage, he rises, sets his glass on the tabletop and stalks forward panther-like, drawn, as they all are by their dragons’ instincts.

Indianath is flagging, his last burst of energy having been almost expended in his attempts to get ahead. He passes a smaller bronze, buffeting him out of the way with a clash of wings and a snipe of bared teeth, finding his second wind when he notices Miraneith slowing in the wake of Chaeth’s catch attempt. He turns on a wingtip, adjusting his course to follow her, pulling on his last reserves of strength to try and beat out those remaining bronzes… or some of them, anyway. With all he’s got left to give, Indianath makes his move, lunging towards Western’s queen with talons outstretched in an attempt to ensnare her.

With the closing moments getting ever-closer, Rou’x is on her feet and hovering, half-concentrating on the room while the rest of her mind is with her lifemate. E’wrd is given a narrow-eyed look and she snorts when he gets a drink flung in his face, taking a swig from her bottle then holding it up in silent cheers to Enka. When she knows Indianath’s gearing up to make his move she closes her eyes and leans against the nearest table, biting down hard on her lip; whether she’s willing him to success or not is unclear, as whatever the recently-returned brownrider is hoping for is masked by the look of sheer concentration that furrows her brow and has her eyes scrunched tightly closed.

Those who know Suldith, know he has a generally sweet demeanor about him, at least most of the time. But in a flight, or on the sands, he is a totally different dragon. Aggressive, angry, full of fire and fury, he sees that bronze trying to cheat his way to a win. And a tremendous roar comes from such a small bronze. Luckily for Chaeth, Miraneith is starting to falter. Otherwise there might have been a lashing or two provided to the cheating bronze for being tricksty. But no, Suldith cuts the corner quickly to hone in on the gold. As dragons converge, he stretches neck and claw out to attempt capture of the Western queen.

Zi'on peers at Enka. "Oh, you'll be sorry. Just you wait." He rubs his hands together menacingly. Or trying to be menacing. "Yes you were. You were trying. To be mean and rude. So you better have something fun planned to make it up." Especially if he comes out the flight loser. The bronzer isn't moving from his spot right now. He's trying to stay coherent. Focusing in on those shots in front of himself. Until Enka is hurling glass at E'wrd. "Whoa!" He calls out, standing up. He bumps the table and one of the glasses tips over, spilling alcohol across the table. The bronzer then goes to put himself between Enka and E'wrd. You know, just in case.

Bellowing loudly, Chaeth sideslips to the left, away from the queen, green ichor dripping in a steady flow from his gashed tail down, down, down to the sea below. He'd tried to cheat, tried to wrest from the skies the prize that was not rightfully his to claim, and he'd failed. Another loud bellow is given, the bronze snaking his neck towards his competitors. They're in a much better position now, to snatch the queen away, rubbing his loss further into his face. With a flick of wearied wings, the cheater wheels away, back towards the Weyr to make his defeated journey home.

Lost. Lost and failed, E'wrd manages to avoid getting splattered in the face by Enka's thrown drink, but the glass shatters against his shoulder, booze dripping down the sleeve of his jacket. He clenches his teeth, taking a step forward, but Zi'on interposing himself between burly bronzer and the Weyrwoman has him thinking the better of retaliation, and the man's shoulders slump, as defeated as his dragon before he slouches out of the bar, obviously a loser.

Miraneith is surrounded, browns and bronzes all with grasping talons seeking to capture her, when her only thought had been to flee and fly. There's no hope of escape now, the other dragon forms about her making her veer and shy away from them, darting right to avoid Indianath, and then diving a little to escape a second brown. That's when the queen finds that as she lifts herself with straining wings, she's brought herself into the path of Suldith as he cuts that corner, and she all but blunders into the small dark bronze, her short neck tangling against his, tail fouling and twining about the bronze's. Truly captured now, spent nearly to the limits of her endurance, the queen yields herself up to her conquering mate, the fight gone out of her at last. She's well and entirely his, and this dance across the sky is of their own making.

Enka glances sideways, her hands resting against the edge of the stage, bracing herself for this crucial moment. The silent toast from Rou'x is noted, returned with a wry smile and a death breath of pure nervousness before she addresses Zi'on, not even going so far as to glance in the direction of the disgraced bronzer, E'wrd. "I'm sure," she drawls out, suddenly coy and sweet, as smooth as cream, "that you can make me very very sorry indeed. Because maybe I was tryin', tryin' to get you riled up." Maybe she liked it that way. "If I did have somethin' fun planned, " she peeks at him over her shoulder, noting that Zi'on's put himself between her and the other man — and that E'wrd's trudging out of the Tiki Lounge in defeat, "I'll make it so much fun, you won't know what hit ya." Well, that's not really going to work if the bronzer loses though. And then it comes, the moment of capture, as Miraneith find herself willingly surrendering to Suldith's triumph, so too does Enka feel desire and need course through her. Flinging herself towards Zi'on, heedless of anyone else, she has /demands/ and only he can satisfy them. "Show me," she purrs out, reaching up to twine her arms about him, "how sorry I could be."

Dremkoth zigs when he should have zagged, overshooting Miraneith’s falter and finding himself grasping at thin air. Flipping over, the move intended to send him boomeranging back to her, he finds another bronze has beat him and the entwined pair have already begun their descent while locked together. His cry of disappointment reverberates across the tropical skies and he folds his wings to dive towards the beach far below, seeking solace with the only one who will understand.

D’ani’s steps forward halt with Dremkoth’s miss, the hand that rakes through his brown hair is the only sign of frustration he gives as he turns heel and walks from the Tiki Lounge without another look back at any of them. His needs, well they’ll be drowned in the cove where he plunges – clothes and all to douse the fires of desire before unwisely heading home. He goes sopping wet *Between* to Fort to make sure they are out! Never know who will try to waylay him back there!

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