Ollie Ollie Oxen Free (Leadership Flight)

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.


Miraneith has been sunning herself on the beach all morning long, the gold relaxing in the warmth and occasionally warbling sweetly and cheerfully at the occasional male dragon in her vicinity. In fact, she's been chasing them down frequently, rounding them up to bask on the sand in her general area. Apparently, the gold has been in a collecting mood. But now, something's chasing, as she uncoils herself, her fat plump tail lashing furiously at the sand and wingsails being spread wide, her short neck arched into a curve as she hisses low at the assembled males. No longer are they objects of collection and admiration — she must flee now!

Suldith is part of the crowd today. His rider is off with her rider doing… whatever they're doing. Working, actually. The bronzer has been helping Enka get her computers set up and just generally helping around the office. But now, it was time to get down to brass tax. The small bronze barks at some of the blues and even a brown or two that are around. Go away! There's a rumble that sounds a bit like a growl and he snaps his jaw a few times. It wasn't much like the bronze to be possessive, but they aren't in the air yet, and having so many other males around is making him visibly uncomfortable. He backs up a bit closer to Miraneith. He's still sort of obeying orders, chasing off some of the chasers so Mir has a chance to escape, maybe? He's still looking aggressive and caged in, though.

Quamirth has been watching Miraneith, biding his time as he slipped through the water as easily as dolphin. Biding his time as the gold is watched carefully amongst the other males that are gathered there. Other males that are much more graceful appearing on land then he ever could be. But that's okay. He doesn't need to be graceful there. As the golds demeaner changes, he emerges from the water, his hide glistening from the water, though his large bulk is anything but sleek. His movements on the beach are quite awkard and his body sort of undulates from one side to the other, more reminiscent of a tunnelsnake than a dragon. He shoulders his way in amongst some of the smaller bronzes, weighing in more than they do and larger than many of the browns gathered. He hisses at Suldith, his eyes whirling quickly and then his attention is back on Miraneith. She's the only one that really deserves his attention.

Glyith is still slightly groggy from his nap. He is not the first to notice the queen's change in behavior by any means. He must spend some extra moments to clear his head. A rumble escapes, as he is annoyed at himself for his lack of attention. In his earlier days he would surely be one of the first off the mark, though that is a two-edged sword. A fast start often means a quick burn, and this promises to be somewhat of a long flight. The queen is Western, after all, and Western is strong. Nothing about today is going to be easy. The bright sun and the lack of a friendly breeze only complicates things further.

Miraneith's wings fan the air, the dappled sails of ivory and mustard snapping in the still quiet air, now alive with the snarls and hisses of the proddy queen and her erstwhile suitors. They're all about her now, pressing in close; stifling. There's a loud growl from the gold, as one young brown gets too close and is lashed at furiously with her tail, stout and thick as it is, it makes well a good club — a sound drubbing performed as she snakes her short neck towards the ground, teeth bared at both Quamirth and Suldith, and then she's lunging upwards, that first all important downsweep lofting her skywards, although she lingers not for long in the air, her target being the feeding grounds whence she comes down with a mighty plunge, -splat- right on top of a hapless herdbeast. She'd been aiming for the wherry! Really! The queen's blunt-nosed head dips, jaws gaping to feed as usual before an inner war stirs, a battle of wits between rider and dragon, and she begins to blood, loud sucking noises coming from between her lips.

Enka dashes across the bowl from the direction of her office, the goldrider panting heavily as she skids to a stop at the edge of the lagoon shoreline in time to see Miraneith arrow skywards in the direction of the feeding grounds. "Oh…. shells…" Enka's breathing heavily, chest rising and falling as she sucks in air the way Miraneith now slurps up blood. "Blood it, Mir," she hisses, heedless of whatever or whoever else might be there. "Blood only." The contest of wills, enacted every time.

Suldith jumps as Miraneith lets out a large growl. If he could fall over backwards he might have done so. But being on all fours with a tail behind you made it pretty hard. The bronze is glad he's not on the business end of a plump golden tail… as beautiful as it is. It also could be deadly if she managed to knock out a flying dragon with it. When teeth are bared the way of the small bronze he fluffs himself up, opening up his wings and trying to make himself look bigger and scarier, or handsomer, or something-er. As the queen takes off he does as well, following her out no doubt with the rest of the gaggle towards the feeding pens. After diving a beast he moves in to bite its neck until is snaps between powerful jaws.

Quamirth twitches his tail, snapping as others crowd in closer to him, narrowly missing latching onto another brown. He is not intimidated by the barring of teeth, though he does watch her carefully, keeping his distance, especially after she thumps the other brown well. For now. As the gold begins to blood her kill, he crouches, amazingly getting closer to the ground than he already was. His muscles ripple under his hide, his hind legs starting to tense as he readies himself for the chase. There's a low growl deep down in his throat. There's a sense of anticipation and then suddenly he's in the air and landing in amongst the field of beasts, his sharp talons taking out a passing herdbeast, the sound of it's back breaking is heard just prior to it's screams of pain. Teeth sink down into the flesh, swallowing deep the gushing life that pours out. He growls and snaps at a bronze that lands to near after his own kill and then he's done. The beast is dropped like yesterdays news.

Glyith lashes out with a talon, catching a buck that scattered in fear at Miraneith's plunge. Its legs fold and its bulk crashes forward in a stumble. Glyith is on the beast in the next moment, a short hop placing his full weight on the beast's back. *snap* and the beast goes limp. Without delay or preamble, Glyith bloods, and all the beast can do in protest is let out a long, slow, final sigh.

A'ven arrives moments later, skidding to a stop and putting on a boot. He offers a curt nod and a half grimace that will have to suffice for a smile under the current circumstances. "Fine timing, didn't even get a chance to finish my meal, sharding bronze." But of course, Glyith himself isn't responsible for the schedule. He rumbles and indicates the gold with his head. Blame her for your half-eaten meatroll, silly rider.

Kh'zan is running out from his workshop as Quamirth his heading for his kill. Sweat drips from his hair and runs down his nape and his face. His green eyes are even murkier than normal and his nostrils flare as he slows. There's a curl to his lip as he takes in account everyone there. He's not a might to pleased and mutters something under his breath about a project gone south once again thanks to Quamirth. He's breathing heavily, though likely not from the run considering the circumstance. He gives a nod to Enka and then to A'ven and then licks his lips.

This time, Miraneith is going to catch a wherry! Flinging the drained, desiccated carcass of the herdbeast away, she heaves her bulk forwards in a sideways scuttle, the momentum of her shoulders and chest propelling her into one rather panicked and decidedly unlucky wherry with sound reminiscent of a wet thump. Proto-feathers go flying, the wherry startled and stampeded in the panic on the feeding grounds, is now a limp, trodden mass of squished body parts beneath the queen's forepaws, and she drops her head to lap at the green ichor that stains them. It's not much blood, but it's a start. Her attention is focused on her prey now, the males about her — particularly Suldith, Quamirth and Glyith — almost ignored and forgotten for the moment in her ravenous frenzy of blooding.

"At least you got somethin'!" Enka rounds on A'ven with a growl not unlike her queen's, her hands clenching and unclenching as she fixes the Weyrleader with a steely glare. "Was workin' on gettin' my computer set up, just had lunch brought up, and then…!" she throws one hand skyward in the direction of the feeding grounds. "Faranth's tail fork, she'd choose /now/." Yes, Enka, Miraneith deliberately chose to rise right now, just the minute, to make your life an annoyance. She tips her chin in a curst head bob at Kh'zan, acknowledging the brownrider before her gaze is flickering over the crowd of male riders.

There's a new drink in Pern! They call it Bloody Wherry. Suldith though sticks to the herdbeasts. He's already looking quite full of blood after the first, but a second is pounced upon. Jaws grip its neck and tear away at the flesh until it stops squirming and the blood flows freely. The bronze's tummy is getting a little pouchy at this point. Hopefully he wasn't so fueled he couldn't even take off! One of the other beasts is noticed lingering too close, and it gets a growl and a claw slashed in its direction for good measure, as if to say 'you're next!' His own little pouch secured, the bronze goes back to keeping an eye on the gold.

Quamirth moving almost awkwardly, and much slower than the others on the ground, he bides his time and waits as the herd comes trampling his way and then there's another satisfying crunch of bone as he pulverizes the head of another herdbeast when he smacks it to the ground. Guzzling down the hot blood as he buries his head into the belly he finally finds his fill point and shakes his head. Blood and uneaten entrails are scattered and he twists around, eyes on the gold and the others nearby. His mouth hangs open slightly and whats sounds almost like a his emits from within. Nostrils flare and he's ready to go.

Zi'on looks down at his bitten into sandwich. He offers it meekly to Enka, holding it out at arms length, lest she claw into him like one of the herdbeasts. "Here…" Now was as good a time as any, right? Zi'on thought so. At least the queen didn't rise in the middle of the night or something, though he wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Glyith selects another buck by latching on to its neck and pulling it so hard it rolls off its feet. The unexpected momentum of that much bulk twists the poor things neck as the life of the beast is gone in a flicker, nothing now but a tangle of disorganized limbs as it comes to a stop, and is drained, covered in dust from the slide. He's not wasting a moment, or a drop of energy he doesn't need to. Just get the job done, neat and tidy.

Kh'zan has no food, and in fact it's likely far from his mind, outside the taste of Quamirths blooding. "A sevendays week worth of work down the drain." A pause "Or more accurately, scattered on the floor." He moves in closer, not quite crowding. Least not yet. His own nostrils flare in time with his dragons, though at the moment he does not his as well.

A'ven's voice drops a little lower than usual, "Well, certainly she's worth a little shift in the schedule. I'll suffer a little inconvenience for Western's future." His smile is just slightly more seductive now, roguish.

Ah! What a delightful new drink it is. Miraneith's bound to get a buzz from tossing down those Bloody Wherries. It's not enough though, the queen still demands more. And red gushing blood is what she craves! That herdbeast lingering near Suldith is noted, the growl and the claw slashing from the bronze drawing the gold's attention before she's lunging and leaping at it, a sideways scurry that sends her plowing smack into the critter, talons tearing deep as it struggles and kicks. She doesn't even wait to kill the thing, just fastens her jaws down across it's throat and inhales the blood with a loud slurp. Take that, cow! Gore stains the queen's muzzle as she lifts her head, hissing loudly at the males surrounding her. It's time to go, the game of hide-and-seek is well begun. With a loud snap, broad pinions unfurl, and with a mighty heave, Miraneith is skyborne, driving out furiously over the lagoon and the ocean beyond with powerful wingbeats, head and tail angled to best cut down the resistance of the wind. Her goal — to run, to run far and fast, and seek a hiding place where she cannot be found but by those truly worthy. Better hurry, she's getting away.

Enka snatches at that sandwich that Zi'on holds out to her, quick grasping fingers plucking it from his hand before she's sliding along the angle of his arm and brushing up close against him with a teasing purr. "Thank you," the throaty chuckle from the goldrider is certainly not her usual, influenced by the lusts and desires raging through her bond with her queen as even now, Miraneith makes a run for it. But then, she's gone, whisking away from the bronzer's side to smile sweetly at A'ven. "Mmm, I think we all are willin' to put up with a little shift in the schedule." Kh'zan too, get a good look from the weyrwoman, a moue of sympathy and a pat somewhere in the vicinity of his cheek if she can get close enough to him, given. " Poor man, gettin' thrown off for a whole sevenday." By now, the sandwich is shredded, eaten quite readily and rather fiercely by the woman. At least she didn't try to blood it.

Suldith blinks and then yanks his beast as hard as he can away from the impeding gold's choice of tackle. Being bowled over by a gold much bigger than himself wasn't exactly what he would call fun times. He does get an elated look on his face when the cow is murdered though. Yeah! Take that, cow! Miraneith and anyone else happening to be listening will get a bouquet of flowery colors projected to them from the bronze. When Mir takes off the bronze does as well. Or he tries to, but he's got a herdbeast stuck in his teeth! There's some pulling and grappling with the carcass before he's torn himself free. There's a bit of leather sticking out of his mouth as he rushes to join the crowd in the skies.

Zi'on blinks at Enka as she slides up against him. There's a loud swallow from the young bronzer followed by what sounds more like a squeak than a 'you're welcome'. He pats her hand a bit before she's moving to bother A'ven. Suddenly Zi'on draws in a long breath. Breathing! Yes. It was good. He should remember to do that. There probably wouldn't be much blood in the sandwich meat, but at least Enka got something in her.

A tongue flicks across the red stained muzzle as Quamirth gouges at the dead and drained herdbeast. His hissing turns into a growling and then there's movement. He trumpets as Miraneith is airbound and then he's leaping high into the air, his wings unfurling and he shakes him out, almost as if to get the mud encrusted look off of them and then he too is airborne beating out those who are less observant, but not worrying about those that leapt out too quickly. There's a slight hitch for a second at the vision of colors and all flowery like and then he's drowning it in the sounds of roaring water to wash away such prissy things. His mind once again on the chase and where on ground he was awkward, in the air he's in his element and his body seems to lengthen out into something much more graceful. Even if he still seems to undulate.

Kh'zan stands here looking almost bemused at the patting on the cheek. He clears his throat "I have my notes, I will survive." he murmurs "Who is one to argue with a dragon?" well he would with his own, but the gold? Not a chance at this point in time.

Glyith isn't the first off the ground, nor the most streamlined. So, as is his custom, he must force the wind out of the way as a brick might, and at least for the moment chase the small cloud of wings trailing in the queen's wake. Determination counts for a lot though, and it's not long before the cloud of wings thins just a bit, and he finds himself truly in the chase. An eager brown in front of him tries to foul the air over his wings but he drops underneath the competitor and carries forward. Glyith steals a look under his wing. There's Suldith. Too close… how did he recover so quickly? … and Quamirth's loud trumpet. This is going to be quite a race! Best leave nothing to chance here. He looks ahead, then left, then right, trying to update his sense of where everyone is, but it's all happening so fast. A silent reminder from his rider seems to calm him somewhat and his focus returns with an answering trumpet of his own.

A'ven turns his head to vomit briefly as his stomach drops out from under him with Glyith's fast assent. He takes a moment to rinse with seawater. "Well, what few bites I had to sustain me was apparently a mistake." "Sorry bout that." He kicks sand over his mess and carries on.

Beneath her lies open water — Miraneith streaking in a thunderous fury over the Weyr itself and then beyond — stretching as far as the eye can see, the glint of sunlight reflecting mercilessly up from the turquoise liquid below and she uses the light, dipping through dazzling motes, angling her great body to try and reflect off the glittery sunlight in her every effort to hide. But it's not enough surely, for the pursuit comes on, forcing the queen further and further from the island itself, passing over atolls and shoals too small to support a dragon for long. Onward, she runs, like the small sloop before the summer squall, her goal a misty cloud bank ahead that enshrouds one island of the western ring. Snaking her head under a wing, Miraneith snarls defiance at her suitors, a hiss and a glare each given for them, before she suddenly flips her wings back, and plunges, diving downwards towards the clouds. To hide! That's what she must do!

Enka dabs at the corner of her mouth, brushing back bread crumbs from about her lips as she smiles sweetly at Zi'on. She heard that noise the bronzer made when she got all up and close to him. Tease! "Mmm," the goldrider giggles softly, before she's a bit taken aback by A'ven losing his lunch in the sand. Ooops. She might give him a bit of a wide berth for now, instead, content to smile and nod at Kh'zan. "That's good," comes her reply, before the woman's gaze turns out towards the sea, her breathing still rapid as she strains her eyes, to no avail for the dragons have long since passed from sight.

Suldith is a quick one. His smaller girth and frame let him take advantage of the thermals. Something that long sweeping rides has taught him well. Though it's remained to be seen if his endurance will let him stay in the race the whole time, or if he'll run out of steam and be forced to drop out. He flies after the sparkling gold as she zips across the weyr skies and over the water. The young bronze maneuvers between the suitors, weaving in and out without getting too close. Even a large brown would be able to knock him out of the competition if they were set on it. But he wasn't here for a fight, no. Despite the queens threatening. He was here for the opposite! And off into the clouds they go!

Zi'on peers at Enka, then shakes his head at her. There's a blink as A'ven hurls into the sand. "Aw… gross." He laughs a bit and wiggles his fingers at the weyrleader. "At least bury it so we don't step in it." Apparently there are rules about puking in the sand. And Zi'on knows them, for whatever reason.

Quamirth skims through the air, dipping and diving through the air. There's a snarl as a bronze comes up quick form behind him and the wheels away, narrowly missing teeth in his own neck. He slashes at another and then he's plunging after the gold, not carring that he nearly runs himself into another dragon. He'll barrel his way through if he has to. Out of his way he screams and snarls as his wings tuck on his dive.

Glyith snorts. So, it's going to be that sort of game is it? That's not a good sign. If she disappears into the clouds the strength born from his bulk will do him no good. He doubles his efforts. If he can stay close enough before she disappears, the cloud may not be so thick as to take her out of sight. It's his best chance and he knows it. The dragon reaches for more speed as the clouds close around him. Was it enough? All he can do now is carry forward toward where the golden form last lingered, and perhpas she'll resolve out of the mist. He bellows defiantly at the cloud that thwarts his vision, venting his own passions because the elusive queen is not… a pause in his roar as it changes to a coon. Sight is taken from him, but she knows his voice, familiar in the gloom. Will she answer?

Kh'zan is silent. He never was much one for talking, though he has moved closer yet and then he's stepping back. "Eww man." he shudders a little "That's just gross. A shame too." he wrinkles his nose and then offers "PErhaps we should move a little?"

Lost in the fog, but is she truly hiding? Brightly glowing mustand and ivory hide might yet give hint to where Miraneith seeks to conceal herself, wrapping tendrils of mist and cloud about her. This, she must decide is unacceptable, it had neither form nor darkness to truly give her the hiding place she really seeks. As Glyith croons, the queen's head snaps back and forth, that familiar call heard and recognized. But she truly does not answer it — not yet, for instead, there's a loud whooshing sound, and Miraneith cups her wings, exploding from the concealment of the clouds in a late-rallied charge towards the very height of the sun. Rukbat draws her, life-giving warmth as she strains ever upwards, the majority of the pursuit lost within the fog below. Only now does she call out, a high warbled trill like that of a child yelling 'ollie ollie oxen free'. She's running for safe base, gaining height with each ponderous updraft, her wings lofting her up up up. She's very high now, so high that the air will soon be too thin to breath - but the queen tires, and soon, she will falter, and begin a hapless plunge towards the waters far below unless one can wrest her from her fatal fall.

"MIR!" Enka's voice is raised in a shriek, the queen lost from her sight, but never far from her mind, the goldrider's hand stretching out towards the water and the distance that separates her from her dragon. Too far, and too helpless. Behind her, A'ven, Kh'zan and Zi'on are forgotten, Enka's only attention focused upon the waters. She waits, each breath wrested from her in a panting gasp. She's even forgotten about the weyrleader throwing up, she's too focused on the here and now.

Suldith stays at the heels of the gold. Just out of reach of that thick tail. Up and up they go. And up some more. And… hack… cough… up more. Suldith surely has never flown this high in his entire life. His wings are beating hard against the thin air as Rukbat beats on his dark colored hide. The bronze manages to keep up… and then… she's falling! Noooooo! The bronze gives out a trumpet in surprise, as he goes from the best seat in the house to the back of the bus. There are too many chasers to go into a straight dive, but he'll try his best to do that anyways. Can he catch her? Can he fall fast enough?

Zi'on blinks a bit as Enka yelps for her dragon. He wrings his hands together a bit. This was always the scary part. The roughest part of the storm.

Quamirth catches sight of the golden queens head and then he's swooping her way, following the sound through the clouds and down under them as he pushes himself hard to get to her first. Passing a smaller bronzer and a brown that drops out from the strain. He is silent, conserving his breath for the plunge, past the others, past the gold and then his wings upon and the air catches him and carries him back up towards her. Then there is another snarl at a bronze who tries to edge him out. Who cares if he's only a brown. He's going for the gold.

Glyith's coon changes to real concern now. Must Miraneith risk her wings so brazenly for these things? He braces himself as he watches her gain speed. If she slips past him it will be up to some other pair of wings to try and slow her. His sheer mass might be enough, and it might not. This is gonna hurt… He holds himself steady, making himself as big a target as he can, and trying to maneuver to catch her, somehow…. wings swept out of the way so they don't snap on impact, he too begins to fall slightly, but not as fast as she is…

Miraneith risks it because she must! Because that innate drive of hers compels her to flee fast and far, and try everything in her power to escape. And yet, such attempts must all come to naught in the end, because will she or nil she, the golden queen would be caught. With a creel of sound as she begins her fall, Miraneith can not but plummet, the cool crystalline waters below to be nothing but the cradle for her broken frame, to tug her down into the deepening abyss and hide her forever more. But yet, such would not come to pass, as it is Glyith that Miraneith tangles with, his great bronze form as big a target as she ever has needed, tail and wings fowling with his, her snarled hiss of displeasure at the capture suddenly lilting into captivation and the croon of desire that escapes her is unmistakable. The status quo maintained, the queen captured — the game is won.

Enka's shoulders jerk, the goldrider snapped from her fear-filled worry for her dragon, as she spins around, gaze taking in the sight of the brown and bronzeriders about her. It's A'ven who she's got eyes for now, as she skirts about the possible location of the mess the weyrleader left in the sand, half-buried as it might be. It's her hands reaching for him that snatches at his shirt, tugging and dragging him somewhere. Wasn't there a tent somewhere on the beach? Apologies to its owner is going to have to be given, but Enka isn't sure she'd make it back to the weyr.

Glyith shifts his wings to get them in the proper configuration to at least slow them down just a little bit. Water is a good thing, but at speed it might as well be stone.

Suldith sinks down and down, but alas he cannot get in close enough. Turns out those towards the back had a better spot all along! As she entwines with another the bronze spreads his wings to retreat off back towards the weyr.

Quamirth gives a roar and then veers off back towards the Weyr, perhaps to wait out one of the many greens that are always going up. Or else to go lick his pride.

A'ven is jarred back to his personal reality by Enka's urgency and nods, matching step with her hurried gait, and agreeing to her urgency.

Kh'zan finds himself heading away from the pair, loosening his shirt a little as he makes his way for the lower caverns. Sometimes a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do.

Zi'on trots away. Maybe back home or someplace to get some comforting. Maybe there was a weyrbrat or two around who wanted some company.

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