Stealing the Sun

Western Weyr - Shadhavarth's Basking Zone

Jutting out from a wide opening, set high in the side of the bowl wall, is a ledge large enough to more than accomodate a very large beast, if she cares to sprawl. It's positioned perfectly to catch the afternoon light, though the heavy wooden rod, just inside and above the archway, allows a thick canvas to be drawn against intrusion and the weather. The tight weave is dyed gold, with little designs in the weyr colors livening up the entryway. There's room enough at the weyr's entrance for a sizeable wingspread, the interior equally as roomy, shaped somewhat hexagonal with the farthest wall containing a rather large depression, almost another room in itself, with place for a queen size bed, dresser, desk and mirror, and a few built-in stone shelves for books or knick-knacks. A bathing room is carved out beyond the sleeping area, with all the conveniences packed into a smallish space. The dragon's couch sits beside the sky entry, while opposite it is a small nook with a kitchenette boasting ample cabint and counter space. There is a stove and oven, ice box and deep sink- everything a baker needs to make meals in the comfort of her own weyr. Hooks have been placed at regular intervals around the weyr, to hold glowbaskets or other things, and colorful drapes have been placed at intervals between the hooks to liven up the look of the weyr.


Shadhavarth may well have sucked up all of the sunshine this morning when she was inducing Iris to be so bitchy, because all of a sudden it became overcast… and at that moment, the golden dragon stretched out on her ledge, looked about, and dove gracefully for the feeding pens, bugling the announcement of her flight across the bowl. It is time! Left behind in the weyr are Iris and Ila'den… and at the moment of the bugle, the junior weyrwoman is wrenching away from Ila'den and rushing to the foyer of their weyr, not in time to catch the gold before she leaves. Any patching up Ila'den just did to her feet is ruined in the flight frenzy. She sinks to the ground in front of their entrance, eyes sliding out of focus as she begins that age old battle of wills to Blood Only.

Teimyrth's head rises when his sister does, and the bronze lets out a fierce shriek of challenge as those massive wings spread and he takes off after. To the pens! To the helpless animals! The bronze finds one of his own to toy with dutifully, before sinking his teeth into the sorry beast. Ila'den's freezing up, and temporarily paralyzed when Iris goes skirting around him and running for the entrance. "Iris!" The name is harsh coming from the Weyrsecond's lips, and he's climbing to his own feet half with annoyance at the dragons, half with annoyance at his 'mate's disregard for her own state. Anybody who's coming to crash the party will be in for quite the treat. Ila'den and Iris' home has gone to shambles, and the first sight anybody will be greeted with is the splintered, ruined table that's crumbled against one of the walls. The second will be the mess of glass, flour, and bloody prints trailed all throughout the kitchen. Long strides carry the rider out, and he's immediately grabbing Iris to haul her back in. "Get off of your feet," he manages between gritted teeth. Freaking /dragons/.

A lack of light in the day is a distressing thing indeed, and Loxiath sorely misses the displacement of sunshine. An odd limbo between day and night keeps the brown in an off-kilter mood, rumbling in the dour tones of darkness while still radiating his lighter moods. It doesn't prevent him from grabbing a beast of his own though, certainly not toying with it at all. Games are not to be played here. V'ric looks less than pleased to indeed suddenly /be/ there..and more than a little confused at the state of things in the weyr. Though instead of going to help, the brownrider roots himself to one spot rather rigidly. Freaking dragons indeed. Still, his gaze attaches stonily to Ila'den for just a few moments. "We will talk." There are /broken/ things everywhere. Oh yes they /will/ be having a talk. …But later.

New transplant Veserath knows the minute the gold plunges for the feeding grounds. His ledge is much higher up, and he leaps from it, copper wings spreading wide. His spiral downards is almost lazy, the sort of predatory amble any good hunter takes before deciding on his first kill. He grabs the fat herdbeast to himself and bites it as tenderly as a lover might, but the effect is no less disasterous, freeing blood to run into his mouth with wickedly twirling eyes fixed on Shadhavarth. N'varo, poor thing, is bound to be lost out in the bowl, very confused and wondering where the heck he's supposed to go. The other riders headed for Ila'den and Iris' weyr is his eventual clue on where to go and he does, at least, finally make it in. By then, he's too involved with his bronze to really notice the state of the weyr.

Indianath isn't one to pass up the opportunity to chase anything, and so when word spreads that Shadhavarth is blooding, he doesn't hold back. The big brown deposits Rou'x - who's looking wider around the hips and broader in the belly than ever before, especially so in her over-sized vest and shorts combo - then heads to the pens, pouncing on the first herdbeast within range to sink his teeth into its slender neck, draining it of its lifeforce. Rou'x, for her part, hovers as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, staring in at the mess of a weyr before sidling over to her wingmate, V'ric. "The fuck d'you think happened here, then?"

Iris allows herself to be hauled back into the weyr and deposited onto the couch. She's busy stuffing her hands against her eyeballs though, as she demands that Shadhavarth blood only. The diminutive gold is barely agreeable, grabbing, blooding, tossing, grabbing, blooding, tossing. Beast, beast, beast… LAUNCH. Her last beast is flung aside as she leaps into the air, wings beating strongly into the overcast sky, body aglow as if she had indeed stolen the sunshine this morning. She takes the time to glance back and trumpets her challenge to her chasers. Up, up, up and away she flies, spinning as she goes, the blood singing through her and granting her energy and attitude. Fly, fly, spin, spin, up again, up until the chase is led into much thinner atmosphere above Western, above the clouds, where they are all once again in the sunshine and her glow is not far behind the reality in its intensity.

They will have a talk? Ila'den's eyes narrow at his best friend, but where most people would probably tell the interested party to butt the hell out, Ila'den says only, "Later." V'ric is his best friend, after all. He's one of the few allowed to let the Weyrsecond know just how horrible of a person he really is. Suddenly his ledge is crowded with people, and there's a tensing of his body as he watches Rou'x and N'varo warily. Too damn many people in his home! Teimyrth lets out another roar when Shadhavarth rises up and into the sky, and the bronze is relinquishing his current prey to launch after her. He doesn't do anything quite so showy as all the spinning show that Shad does, but agility was never this beast's strong point. No, he will wait for all the damn beasts to grow tired, and then he'll catch her then, when all the rest fail.

Veserath drops his third beast and leaps into the sky languidly, as if he has all the time in the world to catch the glowing gold. And perhaps he does, being quite large for a bronze anyway and thus having the stamina to see this thing out. Her challenge is met with a responding bellow, deep and booming from his chest. His strong wings beat, following her up, up, until they're breaking through the clouds. The sunlight dances off his copper coloring, picking out deep sapphire shadows in his wings. He tucks in his legs, turns his tail straight and aims his head, focusing on keeping the glowing golden queen within his sights and within his reach. N'varo smiles wanly at Ila'den and anyone else who happens to glance his way. He's an older guy, hanging at the edges, as polite as he can manage at one of these things.

Where sunlight goes, Loxiath is bound and determined to follow. When the gold moves up, so too does he in a crushing downsweep of wings. His ascension is rapid though, an eager moth drawn to the ever present light above the clouds. There's a shrill cry of joy at bursting up above into the light, tuned and melodic in contrast to the more gloomy notes of the lower world so shadowed in cloud cover. But still he gives chase, steadfast and sure just over the tops of the clouds. V'ric stands uneasily though, without moving too much farther into the weyr. His best friend or not, it's still Ila'den's home, and the strange mix of draconic emotion just doesn't bode well for close quarters with..anyone, really. Not until the final catch is made. Rou'x voice manages to get his attention, if briefly, brows furrowing together before shrugging. Oh he has every intention of finding out just what was going on in here..once the dust settles, anyway.

As soon as Indianath takes off after the others, Rou'x allows herself to slip further into his mind. Up and up Indianath goes, battered-leather wings beating strongly, steadily as he gains speed, altitude, distance. He's not as acrobatic as some, but he's by no means incapable; a roll here, a dynamic manoeuvere there, and he's as much a contender as anyone else as he barrels into a smaller bronze to give himself a little more advantage. Rou'x simply stands with her feet planted, her hands sunk into the pockets of her shorts, and her eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable ending.

Shadhavarth leads them on a long and merry chase, seemingly tireless in spite of her spinning and agility. But all flights must come to an end eventually, and far out from Western and well above the ocean, Shadhavarth finally begins to falter. She dives back down into cloud cover, perhaps thinking to trick them and double back on the chasers. Will it work? Iris, back at the weyr, is lost in Shadhavarth, muttering and mumbling agreement or disagreement with the gold's rather simple current thought processes. Her face is still being crushed by her hands, ignoring the weyrfolk gathered in her and Ila's home.

Shadhavarth dives, and Teimyrth dips after her! Such a clever trick will not work on him—or will it? There's a raging roar, sheer frustration, as suddenly the dragon's clutchsib is gone. He pounds those wings to bring him high above the cloud cover again, looking, searching, but to no avail does he again find the gold. But no, no, he will not give up yet. Ila'den, meanwhile, shares the frustration by emitting a low growl, eyes locking on Rou'x for a moment, accusing, dancing from face to face before he drops his head as well, fingers finding the back of the couch to dig into while he waits.

And suddenly Veserath is there, diving into the clouds, searching for the gold he can /feel/ there beneath him. N'varo's breath catches, his chin lifting. Wide, wider, as his lifemate's claws spread, seeking frantically for the body, the wingjoints, he knows must be there!

V'ric tenses, fingers curling into his palms until his knuckles turn white as the aerial chase takes an abrupt turn downward. He sucks in a breath though, letting it hiss out as Loxiath also veers sharply down from his position skimming the clouds. There's a low whisper of sound from the brown as he ducks into the fog of dark and light, chasing the bright light of Shadhavarth.

Into the clouds they go! Wings tucked to his sides, Indianath dives down after the gold, into the blind white. He's no less enthusiastic but he /is/ growing tired, slowing down just a fraction as he loses sight of the prize and… no, he doesn't give up, but he does falter for a moment - a moment long enough to perhaps put him out of the running. "What?!" Rou'x exclaims in frustration when he dragon seems baffled by the lack of vision, digging her hands deeper into her pockets and hunching her shoulders as she shakes her head, encouraging her brown on.

Shadhavarth trumpets her excitement at outsmarting Teimyrth. Take tha-!! She's been followed! Her nasty cloud trick did not work on the one other dragon as obsessed with the sun as she is… Loxiath. She is shocked, her shock reverberating into Iris who suddenly drops her hands, eyes wild as she jumps back to her feet, staring across the room. And while Shadhavarth accepts the defeat graciously- she may have expected him to be distracted by the sunshine itself above the clouds, but her pride tells her that she was more important than the sunshine. Iris, meanwhile, is staring at V'ric with a mixture of surprise and flight lust. Her gaze wavers around the room briefly, stopping on Ila'den before returning to V'ric, blinking. "It /would/ be Loxiath, wouldn't it…"

There is a short-lived trumpet, one of glory gained and won. Loxiath has, of course, won himself the right to /be/ a bit puffed up about it for a while. V'ric on the other hand has a brief look of..anger? Well it's not a /pleasant/ emotion at all, but it doesn't stop him from beginning a rapid move to cross the weyr, attention fully locked on Iris. And Ila? Ignored.

Loxiath wins…? Ila'den's mind goes reeling, and there's a moment when he simply forgets how to breathe. Eyes jump from his weyrmate, to V'ric, to N'varo, and suddenly onto Rou'x. The bronzerider actually takes steps towards the other woman, face set in flightlust, intentions clear. Oh, little minx. This man /will/ have you. But that dangerous gait carries him right into Vel as they start in opposite directions, and the bronzer's mind flips like a switch. He catches at his best friend and jerks him in for a kiss, rough, too rough, before he's reaching out to haul his weyrmate against him. "Together," he huffs for the both of them, husky, low, a growl, and the other occupants are left to their own devices. Go ahead and use the ledge! Ila and Iris don't mind.

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