Feyruth Rising

Half Moon Bay Weyr - East Bowl
The eastern end of the crater that forms the Weyr. The cliffs rise to the east, north and south of you, small openings in the face are individual weyrs of dragons and their riders. To the north is the large ledge and cave mouth of the Queen's weyr, with a wide ramp and stairs made by skilled stone masons providing access to the bowl floor. To the east is the Weyrling training area and the barracks, where young riders and dragons learn to work together.

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Corrals
Enclosed by a wooden fence on one side and the steep walls of the weyr on the other is a couple acres of grass that holds the Weyr's herdbeasts and wherry flock. While this dragon feeding area is smaller than most of the Weyrs on Pern, there is still enough room for a large dragon to swoop down and grab his dinner with relative ease.


It is late afternoon here on the western isles and Half Moon is plenty warm, though not to the point of being unbearable. Feyruth has chosen to sprawl as large as possible directly in the center of the bowl where she can soak up the best sunlight. Based on the wide clearance around her, it seems as if the gold is not allowing any other dragons too close. In fact, based on the nearly fearful attitude of a couple of blues, one might think she was being a bit of a bully about it. The queen is deeply asleep and the light hide is glowing as brightly as a diamond in the sun. Sitting with her back against the gold's side, shaded by the queen's bulk is her rider, Janja. Rather unusually she is not accompanied by neither C'vryn or her son, nor does she have her normal sewing in hand. In fact, she seems to just be sitting and staring into blank space with a numb look on the normally expressive face. That or she is asleep with her eyes wide open.

While S'dny had been stuffing his face at the food eating contest a few days ago at the Carnival, Marzoth had been busy prowling around gathering information on Half Moon, and it came to his attention then that it was likely that a gold would be rising soon. Which is naturally of interest to Marzoth. Given this bit of information Marzoth had urged S'dny to return to Half Moon this afternoon. Marzoth creeps into the bowl after landing a good distance away, preferring not to just drop in. As soon as he spots the gold his suspicions are confirmed. He pauses to ponder the best course of action, but it doesn't take him very long to make up his mind. He moves forward, but not so close as to invade her space, « I am Marzoth of Monaco. » he says in a deep baritone voice that is infused with his customary darkness and the sound of leaves rustling through his dark mental forest. S'dny too arrives in the bowl a few moments after Marzoth, the look on his face says it all. He'd rather not be here.

Janja's eyes widen as an unfamiliar bronze finally awakens her from her stupor. She seems to be muttering something softly but too low to be heard by pretty much anyone at all. She is however making pointlessly inefficient 'shoo'ing motions with her hands. It's all for not when the gold's eyelids flick open. Currently her eyes whirl a decidedly bright and angry red, though at least the speed isn't unreasonably fast. Feyruth doesn't even so much as lift her head though. No, the only motion besides her eyes is the very obvious curling and exposure of her sharp pointed teeth. A sudden inexplicable cold wind lashes across the bowl when Feyruth's sonorous alto states fiercely. « Go. Away. » There is the slightest of pauses before the queen adds. « NOW! ».

It is late afternoon here on the western isles and Half Moon is plenty warm, though not to the point of being unbearable. Feyruth has chosen to sprawl as large as possible directly in the center of the bowl where she can soak up the best sunlight. Based on the wide clearance around her, it seems as if the gold is not allowing any other dragons too close. In fact, based on the nearly fearful attitude of a couple of blues, one might think she was being a bit of a bully about it. The queen is deeply asleep and the light hide is glowing as brightly as a diamond in the sun. Sitting with her back against the gold's side, shaded by the queen's bulk is her rider, Janja. Rather unusually she is not accompanied by neither C'vryn or her son, nor does she have her normal sewing in hand. In fact, she seems to just be sitting and staring into blank space with a numb look on the normally expressive face. That or she is asleep with her eyes wide open.

There are many dragons that may be intimidated by such an aggressive display. Those dragons are not Marzoth. The dark bronze's own eyes swirl red beneath his goggles and a hiss can be heard escaping his mouth. « You have spirit. » he compliments and in his own aggressive display opens his mouth to show his own long fangs. He isn't one to be bullied, but neither does he wish at the present moment to cause a physical brawl that may turn out badly for both he and the gold, « Allow me to be blunt. You are likely to attract a great deal of attention in your present state and it is unavoidable. I do not wish to offend you but neither will I go. » he says. That is about as polite as Marzoth ever gets. No human will be shooing him away either. S'dny though looks with pity upon the poor goldrider, having nothing but sympathy for her, "Don't worry I'm sure it will be ok." he says. He means it, but obviously he can't know that.

Marweroeth senses something in the air at the weyr today. Restless through most of their duties all morning and easy afternoon, Trysta is finally free of duties for the day so the pair come spiraling down to land in the bowl. Dismounting in a slide, Trysta pauses to peer towards the basking Gold and rider. "Shards…" she mutters but there is no way Marweroeth is moving anywhere now. Stifling a groan, Trysta approaches with caution. "Half Moon's duties…" she says to the out of weyr rider. Marweroeth, for now, is quiet though his gaze is intent upon Feyruth.

Speaking of blues, Irkevalath is just landing in the bowl, the large blue shimmies and shakes a bit while his wings flutter and tuck in close to his sides. A low rumble escapes the blue, his eyes a swirl while he sends a glance towards Feyruth. This is a place he doesn't want to be!! Sundari hops down from the blue shoulders and sends him off, she doesn't need a dragon to tell her what is up, or well who is nearly up that is. Sunny glances towards the slight group here, a glance sent towards the dragons in question while Irk is moving off to hunker down hopfully far enough from the dear gold.

With the arrival of another, it's clear that the point of no return is near and Janja finally gives up the pointless shooing. She absent-mindedly strokes the gold's leg beside her as it's all she can easily reach and in general just seems to be trying to sooth her. "It would be best.." She starts softly but stops to clear her throat and speak up properly. The barn door is open after all. "It would be best if everyone would just give her room until she gets up on her own." Feyruth, meanwhile, doesn't even attempt to go back to sleep. Her tail twitches, her talons stretch and claw, and her eye speed picks up even as they begin to take on a hint of violet. Janja stands and brushes herself off. Then with a determined if unhappy smile moves away from the gold as well, towards where a few riders are starting to gather to watch or seek escape.

S'dny inclines his head in greeting to Trysta, "Monaco's duties and shards indeed…" he agrees, "It would be so much more simple to be home at the Lunar Shoals having a quiet evening. But such is life I suppose." Sundari's arrival is noticed but since she doesn't offer a greeting just yet Syd says nothing allowing her some space should she wish. His attention is drawn back to the poor weyrwoman and nods slowly. Though says nothing. Marzoth will claim as a victory the fact that the gold didn't say anything and appears to be getting herself more awake. From beneath his goggles he lets his gaze bore into her appraising waht she is capable of. Though for the moment he says nothing to her, though he shoots a look toward the brown but adds no verbalization.

Neither Trysta nor Marweroeth seem to watch to crowd anyone. The brown is tense where he sits, ready to move at any moments notice. He's incredible still for the brown has patience enough. Marweroeth steadfastedly ignores any looks given by the Monaco Bronze. Trysta merely nods at something unheard from Marwe as she closes the last few steps towards Janja as the gold rider moves away from the gold. Hands are shoved into her pocket. Merely offering S'dny a shrug at his wish of being at home she offers no comment out loud. "Nearly time then, hmm Janja?" she murmurs towards Janja.

Waszth blinks in with a cold rush high above. He would bugle loudly, a playful annoucnement of his presence only something draws his eye as if he's hit a wall. Wingstrokes fumble a moment as course shifts not to where his rider wants but to something else which draws him. One can see the figure on his neck kickign and waving somewhat irritably that the party seems to be over /there/ which is not the party the bronze is headed to. Firmly landing near the others he warbles softly to no one in particular, not exactly greeting the other dragons near but not quite ignoring them either. His rider dismounts and shrugs out of his jacket "Over there you big lug." much handwaving to no avail he finally turns away and looks around, turned around. Which way did he want to go again?

With a nod, Janja agrees with Trysta. "Yes. I was hoping she'd wait till the carnival was over but." The junior shrugs even as she seems to sort of fold in upon herself. Very defensive. And in a really surprising show of wisdom for the nitwit, she adds. "I did arrange for a few of the greens and blues to try and get anyone out who didn't want to stay." With that a worried glance is sent towards all those unaware people gathered at the other end of the bowl. Wh'ton and S'dny are beckoned over even as Jan adds, "Don't bother" and a smile for Wh'ton. It is at this point that a mental shock wave moves thru the weyr, as if a white out blizzard had suddenly unleashed all it's power in one instant. This is accompanied by the queen rising and launching herself towards the corral all in one continuous movement. She bellows as she strikes the ground, taking out several wherry and a herdbeast in one violent assault. Janja screams "NO" as the queen drops her head but Feyruth doesn't even try to eat, taking the blood surprisingly neatly for all her cold fury.

This is the moment that Marzoth has been waiting for. As the mental shockwave reverberates in his mind he consciously releases that dark dragon made of nothing but smoke at fire that lives deep within his dark forest. He has learned there is very little point in suppressing himself. The darkness that usually wraps his mind is spread outward and with a howl he takes to the skies wordlessly to follow after the queen. Soon enough he too lands in the pen making his first kill quickly and feeding to energize him for the rough flight ahead. As the mental wave passes over him from both dragons it's all Syd can do to keep his feet. He wanders over to where Janja indicated and speaks up now not knowing how much longer he'll be capable, "Pleasure to meet you all and best of luck." No reason he can't be polite, because Marzoth won't be.

Trysta gives a brief nod at Janja's words. "Be interested for those attending then." murmurs Trysta with a hint of amusement in her expression. Staying near Janja she casts a slightly worried look at the gold rider before she whips her body around to watch the queen exploding towards the corral. Marweroeth was waiting for just this thing for he launches himself upwards and towards the same feeding grounds as her. Hovering above a moment as the queen bloods he finally lands atop his own choice buck. The sound of the back breaking echoes loudly around the corrals, seemingly to echo and reecho in Trysta's mind as her eyes close briefly in rapport with her life mate as he bloods his first kill. In no time the Half Moon brown is tossing aside the dead carcass so that he can go for a second kill quickly. The shock wave of fury crossing the weyr awakens the beast in Marweroeth. Wordless he sends emotions of lust and wanting rolling in waves of reds and blacks towards Feyruth to ensure she's aware he'll be chasing with every bit of being that he is. Trysta stays very still, with head back and eyes closed as she focuses right now on the feeling of the sizzling blood rolling down her/Marweroeth's throat.

Wh'ton is certainly disoriented but it helps that someone sends a friendly wave and that seems as good a direction as any. Not that Janja's all that far as he trots amiably toward, slowing down towards the end as the shock of the queen strikes and the pieces fall sudden together. "OH, oh." chagrined delight as he needn't even look back over his shoulder to what action his own partner takes. He comes to a stop more meekly near the queenrider, exactly what should one say in such situation? So nice to meet you for the very first time, let's have a flight! Umm, not. As his brain tries to mull something intelligible out Waszth takes back to the skies in a few brief wingstrokes, angling quickly over to the feeding grounds. There's no need to waste effort in climbing high, he needs but to slip into the panic'd herd and claim his own. Talons strike out and he drags a beast over to one side clear of the gold and other males for the moment to blood.

Hanging on to herself as long as possible, Janja shots one last desperate look at the carnival and all it's innocent attendies. But the guest weyr is over there as well so with a fatalistic shrug the rider leads the others along the outskirts of the booths towards the guest weyr. Before they even reach the gathering, between one step and another, her body language shifts as 'Janja' fades into 'Feyruth'. She/They stalk through the shadows, glaring at any who dare too close. Feyruth meanwhile has emptied the last of her first batch. She leaps again, hitting another largish herdbeast and a third much smaller. The gold drinks again glaring at each new arrival. One very late brown, unfamiliar with the queen, lands within striking distance and she lashes out, sliding her teeth across the brown's neck. He's only mildly injured but frightened by the attack and leaves the field before the flight has even begun. Feyruth finishes her blooding and crouches, watching each of the males. Then, in time with Janja stepping into the dark, the gold rises. She/They scream an angry laugh as their wings propel them away from the ground.

Marweroeth stops at his second, though large kill to swivel his bloody muzzle to watch Feyruth intently. He continues to send tendrils of thoughts colored in dark reds and the blackest black towards the shining gold. Unfazed by the glare as well as the injured brown departing, Marwe launches upwards after the gold silently. Trysta draws in a ragged breath as she follows close behind Janja, certainly close enough to get glared at but she refuses to back down. Just aware enough so that she doesn't stumble in their trek along the outskirts she keeps most of her attention in the air now, hissing quietly as the dragons launch themselves upwards. "Yes…"

Waszth is definitely not to be dissuaded by his rider. Really, the silly partner should know by now the pull of any lady draws him right into her orbit, even if only for that brief time. He is undaunted by the intensity of this queen, his bright personality cheerful and charming with his all that is both perhaps a tad foolish or else stealthily wise. His first kill is left sloppily to the side and he strikes after a second. Muzzle and throat get streaked with the blood as he lifts the beast with its life ending to catch the last pumps of crimson before letting it drop unceremoniously to the ground with a thud. Tongue licks at even those drops, in part for the energy it seems his will need and perhaps in part to be presentable to the queen as he dares lift his head and meet her fierce gaze. Back beyond in the trailing dusty whirls of nearly forgotten wingbeats his rider nods in quiet response to S'dny's greetings and then follows the oddly acting weyrwoman. Rider, dragon, either way he's along for the ride. Some of the carnival booths tempt as they pass near but the lusty desires of his mate leaking into the crowd of emotions keeps him generally on course to slip somewhat after into the shadows of the guest weyr. The first treacherous path navigated, check, who knows what to follow. Hairs rise on his arms at the laugh even as beyond he feels his partner slips skywards in pursuit.

Tendrils of blackness continue to slowly creep outward from Marzoth's mental landscape. It is warm and gentle as it reaches outward toward the cold, aggressive queen like warm gentle whispers. Dark acrid smelling smoke is sent in the direction of his fellow chasers along with a harsh voice that booms, « I tell you…this one belongs to me. » He finishes his meal and spreads his wings stretching them in preparation to take to the skies making himself look bigger than he actually is, « Fresh blood. » he adds in a whisper before closing his eyes as he takes in a deep breath. He sits perfectly still for a moment before his eyes snap open, « No one will survive me. » he hisses as he takes to the sky following after this prize that he wishes to collect just as those poor souls at the carnival wish to collect their trinkets. Syd can only follow along silently with the crowd. His mind is a haze of Marzoth. The darkness, the fire, and the warmth. What a ride!

Up and up, straight as an arrow in flight Feyruth rises with little in the way of subtly or misdirection. No, the blizzard is running strong and high as the queen seeks to test their stamina. « Stop your silly prattle, Fool. You have to prove yourself. » She sends in icy shards of purple and blue at Marzoth. Then the great golden wings begin to level and the queen sails out over the ocean, still warm with the late summer day. « Now. Dance! » she orders. Janja whirls in time with Feyruth's order, turning suddenly back to those she'd just been leading. "Show us." She asks, a disquieting smile on her face. Feyruth slows, allowing some of the leaders to close in. One especially eager young bronze pushes just ahead. She smacks his head with her tail. The queen backwings, sending her upwards and breaking hard. As the leading group passes too rapidly below her to stop, she extends her claws in a strange mockery of a normal flight, nicking and slicing whatever dragons are too careless or foolish to get out of her way. Then she unleashes her power again, seeking escape even as she watches to see who she's forced out this time.

Marwe ignores the claim of Matzoth to Feyruth. A quick burst of thought is sent towards the Monaco Bronze. « Back off, out of weyr bronze! » it's all the attention he'll spare for Marzoth as he glides upwards on a the familiar thermals of his home, rising in altitude as quickly as he can for the golden arrow in flight already has a good distance on them all. Amused at the eager bronze who gets a face of tail he sends smug thoughts forward towards Feyruth. One tactic he has on the larger bronzes is his agileness which he uses to dip and swerve effortlessly around Waszth to pass him him. Suddenly though he's passing just under Feyruth and her extended claws. Twisting savagely to the right be narrowly avoids being slashed by those wicked talons. Trysta nearly runs into Janja as the women turns back suddenly. Halting she sidesteps around Janja in an imitation of her life mate dodging Feyruth. Groaning with a shake of her head she steps forward again to be close to Janja once more, not wishing to let the rider too far from her reach.

Marzoth sends a deafning roar in the direction of the gold as she sends her icy shards in his direction. This distracts him /just/ enough that he is one of those dragons that she cuts as he passes too close. A superficial cut opens along his front leg. The dark bronze makes no sound at first but rather flares his wings to shift directions and with a great flap he sends himself out of the danger zone. With a few more corrective flaps he returns himself to the flight. From inside the billowing darkness comes not a cry of pain, or further thoughts but laughter that has just a touch of crazy to it. His eyes flash red as he zeroes in on his target keeping her in his sights. Poor Syd cries out in pain and reaches with his left hand to hold his right arm. Janja's command to dance is lost on him as he tries to hold himself together long enough to bring this flight to its conclusion. In this he largely fails as he too begins to laugh and glare at his fellow chasers.

Wh'ton looks a bit baffled. Normally one doesn't dare get to close to the lady of the flight and yet Janja seems to invite, almost order them in. He certainly doesn't look like taking one of the other bronze or brownriders into a twirl although he had come for a fun evening this isn't exactly what he expected. If his flight and emotion addled brain is not comprehending things exactly just yet into ways that will translate to meaningful movement his skybound partner is near the opposite. Strong beats carry the bronze into the warm thermals and unfamiliar currents with barely a care, his normal exuberance all in to living in the moment. To her words he's more than happy to oblige, sliding past her far enough above to avoid the slicing talons, climbing sharply instead to turn as quick as he can manage upon his tailtip and come around to continue the chase Feyruth escapes off in another direction. If the squeals and cries of those who were not quite as lucky reach his ears they are simply dismisssed, the streaks of crimson which show on a few of the pursuers… that's just herdbeast blood right? HIs own wings stroke to resume a climb in a playful fashion that endures in a childish charm as the pursuit continues.

As rapidly as she approached, Janja is in running away again. And this time she's not coming back. All the way to the far wall she flees in tune with the gold far above. Feyruth is making a run for it. She's got size and strength on each of the males and is clearly set on driving them into the ground as not good enough. Farther and farther away she gets, until even the closest chaser is too far back to concern. This is when she starts sending out more of those violent, cruel mental shock waves. Like daggers of ice, she aims them one after the other at her pursuers. And so with time some of the chasers fall out from exhaustion and others from mental overload. It leaves only the best, but she still isn't satisfied. The queen seems bent on leaving them all behind and flying forever. "No, love. Someone must catch." Janja whispers softly into the air. Feyruth screams her defiance. Again "No." from the weyrwoman. They argue back and forth, forgetting those around and with each defiant scream, the gold slows. Finally Janja calls out again. "Choose." Feyruth snarls « Fine. But you're going to earn it. » She turns back towards the males with talons spread and teeth bared. « Come and try me! » she taunts them.

Marzoth's heart beat in his ears echoing the beat of his wings. His soul burns with wanting. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting to win and put this icy queen in her place and show the world that he is superior. The darkness pulls inward to wrap itself around him as he draws strength from the protective warmth. The beats of his wings steadily increase in pace displacing large amounts of air as he swims toward his goal. His vision narrows and the queen becomes his whole world. He can smell the blood that drips from his leg, but he feels no pain only the gentle dampness. Doubtless later he will feel it. He pants as he climbs the sky with the gold almost ready to bow out. Though its at this moment that the gold turns toward the chasers. He can see her talons glint in Rukbat's afternoon light and a warmer laugh can be heard from deep within his mind. He loves him some violence. He gives a few more flaps of his great dark wings and sends himself at her full bore and unafraid. His own claws are open and ready to do just as much damage. As he closes in he will seek to neutralize her defense and ensnare her. If she manages to slice him a few more times in the process so be it! Today he will master defeat and become the master himself…or crash and burn. Which is just as likely. Either way. Syd is silent and waiting. Holding his breath. Through the haze he can see the weyrwoman on the far wall. He makes no move toward her. He leans against the wall just wanting this to end.

The darkness of Marweroeth's mind absorbs the violently thrown mental ice daggers, absorbing and reshaping them to something more his style. Snapped into rough, jagged balls he pushes these towards those still chasing to help along the mental shock from the Gold in Flight. Normally an easy going brown with care for everyone's feelings, this brown in flight is completely opposite now as he sends a tendril of thought towards Feyruth in complete challenge. A faint scent of death lingers in his mindscape as if offering a scent of death himself. « I can show you I can earn it..and then you'll fight to keep up with me! » Lashing out suddenly, Marweroeth catches one of the chasers who is flagging, strained under mental shock from the gold. His talons rack along the side, not too deeply but there is a howl of pain from the brown who goes spiraling downwards. Crowing his victory he uses the last of his energy reserves to speed towards the queen. Noting her talons spread and teeth bared he chooses his finishing move in mere seconds of taking in the possibilities. With a barrel roll to the left her tries to get under those wicked talons and then twist back around to entangle Feyruth as her attention is hopefully on someone else other than him. He'll show her who will earn her passion.

Trysta watches, unmoving, as Janja retreats away from everyone. Standing still her eyes are on Janja though her attention is clearly on the chase above for she draws her lips back in a mirthless smile as Marwe's talons rack across someone. "Yes…show her!" she hisses softly, unaware of speaking out loud.

If there's anything more irresistible it's something running away. Like a cat that just can't resist the retreating thread, Wh'ton's legs inevitably follow Janja's retreating form. It's not as if the room continues on infinitely and he's drawn, the moth to that flame much as his mate above. Will he be burned by getting to close, or find a new dance to learn? Her words slip in one ear and out the other, not for him anyways he isn't yet that comprehending. Waszth is an enduring. A light warble as he strokes the air slipping past a brown who peters out, and then another bronze who must be taking things to personally. The sheer force of Feyruth's mental zingers are unable to be entirely avoided and he can but endure in a sort of befuddled way. But, but, but… isn't he most handsome? So brightly polished hide reflecting in the fading daylight, wingsails flash at the queen as he creeps ever closer with each stroke as the queen seems distracted by one thing or another. Could he melt that cold fury with a insufferable delight until he is so close, so very close. And then she turns, it's almost as if he might just collide straight in and impale himself upon her offered form in all its dangerous glory in a sort of oops moment with the momentum he's gained, at least if another doesn't ensnare those talons first.

Violent, yes. Cruel, yes. But even Feyruth has limits. Even she can not impale a puppy on her talons and so at the last second she swerves slightly to avoid skewering the bronze but can't quite avoid bumping him with her shoulder. Angered even farther, she seeks to turn her talons onto Marzoth and a small bloodbath ensues. The bronze does finally manage to ensnare her but as necks and tails twin, drops of ichor can be seen running down the gold's side. It's impossible at this point to tell if they come from Marzoth or Feyruth. Meanwhile Janja drifts towards and then around Wh'ton. She seems about to launch herself at Syd when sense emerges for just an instant and she moves to his side fighting her lifemate along with the bronze.

Marweroeth wasn't even close enough it appears. With a strangled sound the brown continues the twist midair before spiraling down to the bowl. Stifling her own sound of disappointment Trysta whirls around for the door to rush to the bowl to comfort her dragon.

Waszth is spared the skewering of many others but spins and tumbles a bit in the air after impact. A close call in many ways he creels upon seeing Feyruth in another's twining, oblivious to the actual painful fate he's managed to avoid. Sails fill as he glides in control again and spirals down to the disrupted festivities below. Wh'ton reaches for Janja as she passes before pulling his arm back. She's not his to claim and he slips out leaving the celebrating (?) pair alone to find his own comfort in the carnival beyond. Now, where's that wine booth?

Marzoth usually has a great deal to say about everything, but in this moment of victory he is stunned to silence. There will be no inspiring comment, no taunt to his fellow chasers, just a look of stunned surprise on his face as he finally manages to ensnare a queen. He does her no more violence than he has already done and after making sure she is safely caught whispers to her, « Rest now. I will carry us. » He spreads his wings makes sure that they will both stay safely aloft. Syd is possibly more surprised than Marzoth. He's been sure that the bronze couldn't pull off a gold flight for ages…mostly due to his mouth…but it seems he was wrong. He glances over to the rider at his side. This will be an interesting evening. He doesn't even notice as the other riders quickly escape the weyr.


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