Kichevio is sitting in a puddle of melting slush. hands wrapped securely around a mug of steaming klah. "H'lo Ursa, M'val. You poor fellow, having to leave nice warm Igen for _this_."

Ursa lifts a hand in feeble greeting. "I may be used to it," and her head bobs towards the snowy bowl, "But I don't have to like it."

M'val takes off his helmet, revealing dry hair beneath - the ends are soaked, though, and he puts his free hand up to hold them away from his collar. "Ugh. Yes, I was thinking much the same, Kichevio. I grew up with this sort of stuff, but - not this early in the year! Fort was never like this in fall."

Kichevio scowls at her innocent klah. "I think we've skipped fall this Turn, and just gone directly to winter..." And her voice turns very polite, and just a little wary. "Hey Tarlo. Want some klah?"

Tarlo gives Pierron a glare as she heads for the food table. Spiderclaws are tumbled into a heaping pile on her plate and brought to one of the tables, where she smartly sets it down and picks one up with her fingers. She looks sidelong at Kich. "Yes, please." she says curtly.

Spineth> Saulith nudges some blobs of snow at the arriving dragons, eyes sparkling happy aqua even through the inclement weather.

M'val gives Tarlo a nod and a quick flashing grin. "Evening, Tarlo." He squeezes his dripping hair and lets it fall back against his neck again.

T'lean streches a bit as he walks in, with what almost sounds like a few bones cracking, "I do need to get out more" as he gives a casual wave to those in the cavern

"In this weather, you should stay in," Kichevio suggests wryly to T'lean, as she passes Tarlo a mug of black klah. "But then, I'm insane enough to be out, so I suppose others are as well."

T'lean chuckles a bit, "Well, Duzorth was also bugging me to get out. Hard to talk that bronze lump out of something once he's made up his mind"

Ursa pours herself a mug of steaming hot cider and then stands nearby, fingers warming on the mug while she warms her tushie in front of a blazing hearth. She shakes her head and steam sizzles as water droplets splatter from her hair onto the heated stones.

M'val murmurs, "You'd have to spend a *lot* of time staying in if you stayed in every time the weather was like this, wouldn't you? I've been to a midsummer Hatching here with a blizzard going on."

Ursa objects mildly, "That wasn't a *real* blizzard. Well, I mean, there's been worse."

Tarlo drinks some of the klah, and peers in surprise as M'val hails her. "What are you doing here?" she asks reflexively.

M'val says, cheerfully, "Visiting you. I keep meaning to, you know."

Kichevio shudders, remembering the 'worse' weather. "Faranth, all the weyrling drills that too twice as long because we had to keep digging ourselves out of snowdrifts...although it's easier to stand at attention when you're frozen in it." She does _not_ respond to Tarlo's question, not having a deathwish.

T'lean snickers, "Must have been interesting, Kich. Anyway, had most of my drills ways back when it was warm"

Tarlo eyesballs M'val with an air of blatent suspicion, peels a spiderclaw and -chomps- it, still chewing like a peturbed feline as she glares at the bronzerider.

M'val opens his eyes a little wider as he gazes back at Tarlo. "Well, I did," he says. "It's not *my* fault."

Ursa holds the mug in one hand while she shakes her braid in the other, amusing herself briefly by the splattering sounds of the melted snow landing on the hot fire. She turns, finding her rump is quite warm enough and now it's time to toast the front.

"What's not your fault?" Tarlo rebounds quickly as she takes another savage bite of spiderclaw. Chew, chew, chew.

Kichevio says quietly to M'vel, "Technically, it _is_ your fault. Just because. Sorry, but that's how it is." Best not to argue.

M'val's own response is just as quick: "Anything, of course. Or everything." He flashes Kichevio a grin, head shaking almost imperceptibly.

Tarlo lets out a snort, muttering to herself and sneaking looks at Ursa, T'lean, and M'val. K'ran's entrance seems to startle her, and with a pinched expression, she goes back to peeling spiderclaws and eating them savagely.

Ursa looks over her shoulder at the "whose fault" discussion, but does not smirk, no she does not laugh, not at all. QUickly she turns back, bringing her mug to her lips and takes what looks like it might be an unusually long drink from such a hot cup... or maybe she's just hiding behind it.

Kichevio is quietly relieved not to have been the object of a glare (for once), and waves to K'ran. "Evening. Come in and thaw."

M'val chuckles at Tarlo's reaction, pivoting around as K'ran enters. He waves at K'ran, still with that cheerful smile. "Evening, K'ran."

K'ran's still shaking his head in wordless disbelief as he steps inside, but nearly at once his eyes find his clutchmates: Kichevio first, and he flashes her a ready smile, and then Tarlo, though he pays her more guarded attention for that startlement of hers. "Hey there, M'val," he says quietly. "Kich, Ursa, T'lean. Tarlo. What's good to eat?"
 

T'lean says "Dunno, haven't had anything to eat yet. I just got out of my weyr after duzorth was bugging me to move."

Ursa's riding trousers in front have finally gotten way too hot, and reluctantly she turns back to face the cavern, again hiding behind her mug for one verrrry long sip, letting her rear get the benefit of the hot hearth. She coughs. "The, uh, spiderclaws look good. Ask Tarlo if she'll share."

Tarlo addresses M'val again. "Whyever would you want to visit me?" she asks with her mouth somewhat full. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, and her brown eyes have taken on a peculiar gleam.

Spineth> Ymedath inclines his head toward the back-stepping Cariath, confused. What's with her? Then he looks, and steps back himself. Glowy golds are Scary Things.

Spineth> Cariath stands on her ramp, overlooking the other dragons.

M'val gives Tarlo a hopeful look. "I don't suppose you'd share just one with me?" At her question, his eyes go wider again. "Because I like you? We've had fun conversations together? Because I said I would and kept not being able to?"

Sh'yar pulls off his soacked helmet, "Reaches duties... boy it's really coming down out there isn't it?"

Spineth> Cariath suddenly lets out an ear splitting bugle, and seems to almost sit back on her haunches as if thoroughly pleased with herself.

Kichevio holds up her hands placatingly. Both still attached, as she prefers them. "I wouldn't _dream_ of stealing your spiderclaws, Tarlo. I have my klah and am content. Telgar's duties and welcome to all of you." This to the steady influx of outweyr riders.

Spineth> Miritha waves up at Cariath, with a wry smile.

Still among the standing, himself, K'ran moves matches Zaidra's steps as she nears, and paces alongside her unburdened by a hide -- though he's not above attempting to sneak a look at hers. "Duties," he echoes, more vaguely, though.

Tarlo seems not to know what to make of M'val's answer, and goes back to eating her spiderclaws. The sudden influx of riders recieve darted, wary looks.

Spineth> Saulith matches Cariath's bugle with a higher, sharper note of harmony, and starts to unobtrusively move away. As much as she enjoys the company (Hi Riolth! Hi Alwyth! Hi Gyreventh!), they're obviously not here for her tonight.

Sh'yar waves, "Evening Kich, how's life treating you lately?"

Kichevio grins as she waves back to Sh'yar. "Carefully controlled chaos, about like usual."

Zaidra doesn't let on that she /knows/ that very tall once-mentor of hers is shadowing her, but a change in light might have clued her in. She steps a little sideways, making the hide /that/ much more difficult to steal glances at.

M'val smiles, head tilting slightly; he appears pleased by Tarlo's reaction. But his smile fades as he glances outside again.

Caless looks up from her seat by one of the hearths with a lapfull of supple leather and fur, just now seeming to realize the living cavern has filled up with people.

Sh'yar chuckles, "Likewise for me... got promoted though, he says showing off his new wingsecond knots."

M'val gives Miritha a slightly twisted smile.

"Ex*cuse* me," says K'ran, in a voice dripping with faux indignation, even as he's craning his neck the better to glimpse that difficult bit of scrawl. "Do you mind?"

Kichevio duly admires those wingsecond knots. "Congratulations! Of course, that'll leave you about ten minutes of the day to call your own, but you ranking folk thrive on that, don't you?"

Caless drops her half finished jacket on the seat she was warming and picks her way over to the klah pot, a little skip in her step and a smile on her face. She glances over at the people gathered to congratulate a newly knoted wingsecond and the smile widens.

Zaidra glances innocently up at K'ran, and turns the hide inward, so the lettering on it is against her shirt. "Is it that intriguing, what I'm reading, or do you just like teasing me that much, now I'm no longer your responsibility?" Her green eyes twinkle gaily, and she's still not paying much attention to the crowd.

Miritha comes in, dripping but obviously not cold; she ignores M'val's expression and breezily waves around at people. Occasionally, as she names some of them, there's a faint pause just before. "K'ran, Zaeidra, Tarlo, Kichevio, Ursa, good evening. *T'lean*. Good to see you again, and here. Greylin, hello."

Tarlo looks around at all the people, slowly becoming more irritated with the population of the living cavern in general.

"That much *more*," K'ran corrects cheerfully, abandoning his attempts to study whatever it is Zai's got; instead he's throwing a quick wave toward the entryway, where Greylin and Ro have both entered.

Kichevio winks at Zaidra. "Oh come on Zai, can't you see he's going to wither away and die if he doesn't--ah. Never mind. Hey Greylin, hey Ro. See all the nice brownriders."

Sh'yar wrings out a rain soaked scarf, asking no one in particular, "Think you can spare a warm mug of klah or a poor rain soaked rider?"

Ursa finally realizes she can't stand by that hearth anymore. She moves away from it, walking delicately so as to not burn her legs on her trousers. She bobs her head in response to the greetings she receives.

Ro waves briefly as she comes in, being amiable "Reaches' duties. Hi Kichevio. How has that pretty little green of yours been treating you?"

Spineth> Cariath suddenly decides she's had enough. Enough there's just too many /creatures/ here, and she wants to be by herself. With a roar that echoes across the cut stone of the weyr's cliff-face, she launches herself torward the pens, where perhaps she can get some solitude. And besides...she's hungry.

Spineth> All the dragons make their way to the feeding grounds.

Miritha shoots Kichevio a grin. "Out in force tonight, aren't we?" She gives Ro a quick nod as well.

Kichevio laughs. "I'm her willing slave Ro, like always. And never let it be said that I've ever objected to the presence of brownriders."

Spineth> Alwyth turns his calm gaze the direction Cariath went, vaguely curious.

Caless takes her klah over near Kichevio, smiling a greeting, "Evening, Kichevio." Then she raises her klah mug in the direction of K'ran, throws a smile towards both Ursa and Tarlo. Those people that she remembers, if only in passing. Whether they actually see her silent greetings in this din is debatable.

Sh'yar winks, "Glad to hear it Kich."

Zaidra laughs softly, at K'ran's change of attention, and less softly at Kichevio's half-made comment. She looks around then, and adds her own greetings to the chorus of exchanges.

Tarlo's head goes up with an almost audible snap, and she looks down at her plate. Suddenly she smacks her palms down on the table. "Dammit!" She rises and stalks out of the living cavern, weaving her way through people. "Get out of my way." she snarls.

Ro says with an abbrieviated bow "I'm honored. And just so you know, 'Wyth is quite susceptable to flattery."

M'val slides out of Tarlo's way smoothly, then follows after her, with a glower towards his mother.

Merielan closes her mouth on mid-hello, watching as Tarlo storms out. "Did I miss something?" She asks the room at large, quite clueless for the moment.

Kichevio discreetly tucks her feet up lest Tarlo collide with her--and that would be Bad, at this stage. "And now the fun begins," she tells Caless with a grin. "Ask Alerith, Meri."

Ro dodges out of the way and arches an eyebrow, "O-kay."

Spineth> Cariath is standing there, looking around her wildly. She wants something nice. Juicy. Succulent. And she glows like a beacon against the snow.

Dragon> Flight sense that Cariath sends a snarl to the invaders. <<Go away! I want to be by myself!>>

Caless blinks after Tarlo and leans closer to Kichevio, "Is she always this grumpy? Or does it have something to do with...well...B'na says she's proddy," the young woman says, one eyebrow raised curiously.

That exclamation of Tarlo's, her quick steps out toward the bowl, work to rob humor from K'ran's expression: cobalt regard clouded with sudden dubiety, but then he, too, is following after, and with hands thrust into pockets.

Ursa sets her mug down on the table with a *bang.* She sighs, runs a finger across her hair, looking out towards the bowl, scowling slightly.

Merielan looks after the general flow of people and with a slight sigh--follows the crowd. "Faranth.." She mutters, stalking out.
Merielan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Zaidra drops her hide, and follows, murmuring, "Oh, Yme. Why couldn't we have stayed /in/?"

All the riders follow Tarlo out to the bowl and into the guest weyr.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio corrects Caless just slightly. "It's beyond proddy--Cariath is rising. So, Tarlo feels what she feels--annoyed and agitated."

Greylin just shakes her head, trudging after the others. It seems /someone/ woke her up, and she gives Kheprith a mildly annoyed glance.

TGW-LC>> Ro rolls her eyes "Oh my. Just my luck. 'Wyth did it again...I really think he has a sixth sense about this sort of thing. Seems every time I come here, something is proddy." She does seem to be taking the situation with a grain of salt/humor, though.

Spineth> Gyreventh snatches a learge steer in mid air and settles down on the far side of the pen with a roar he rips open the beasts throat and sucks the carcass dry, his eyes whirling the deepest violet.

TGW-LC>> Caless ahs softly, "Rising...oh!" And suddenly she picks up on it. She watches all the riders leave the cavern after Tarlo and a smile quirks her lips.

Sh'yar follows the local riders.

Spineth> It's a short flight from where he'd been ensconced among the rocks by the lakeshore to the feeding pens, but Indrath makes the most of even such a terse leap: wheeling above panicked prey on lavish-spread wings, he descends sharp and soundless, darkling frame washed to glistening with the storm's caress.

Spineth> Farlioth picks out a herdbeast and snags it out of the rest, carrying it to one side with a supreme disregard for Cariath's expressed desires.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio nods. "Yep. So it's going to be an interesting night." She adds in Pierron's direction, "We'll have to breach the winecellars again." The cook grumbles, but nods.

Spineth> Cariath finally finds a beast to her satisfaction - one two three steps, and a leap. The creature is pounced, bleating frantically in its distress. Cariath is unsympathetic as she raises her jaws up once, and then sends them slamming down. They seem for a moment like they're going to take a chunk out of the animal, but with a back-throated noise of frustration, she merely slurps at its hot blood.

Ursa enters almost reluctantly. Only the rains keep her from lingering out in the bowl longer, avoiding the crowds just as long as she can. She takes herself a place against a stone wall.

Spineth> Alerith *thwaps* his tail in the dust of the feeding grounds watching the beasts go by him with almost disinterest. He eyes the beasts and Cariath both, eyes a-whirling. With a short growl his brown paw reaches out and *thwaps* down a herdbeast, dragging it towards him creating a slight dust trail as he does. Cradling the beast almost like a lover he begins to suckle and rend.

K'ran's actually pulling riding gloves back *on* as he enters, though he does stop to thumb a dance of rainwater from his forehead. A nod here and there as the others slip inside, and he stations himself amid the room, cold stone's support forsaken tonight.

TGW-LC>> Jeroch shakes the sleet from his shoulders as he shoulders in through a crowd of riders. "Evenin'," the woodcrafter says cheerfully to a friendly face or few. His face turns quickly toward a wry grin, "Jays, there's a whole tithe train of people after Tarlo. I'm taking it Cariath is rising?"

Spineth> Kheprith wings in, late but steady, and instead of landing first and then raiding the meat, he goes straight for the meat, tackling a poor beast to the ground and taking its neck in his jaws for a thirsty slurp.

Tarlo looks furious - distracted - she wanted to be /alone/, dammit! And all the while trying to remember to remained focused on Cariath restricting herself on blood. She stays in her huddled crouch, glaring at all the other riders as she slowly lifts her head. Suppressing the urge to bare her teeth at them, she lets herself focus on Cariath and the assurance that will blood, and not eat.

Ro selects a section of wall on the opposite side of the weyr to lean against, as her look of resignation starts to vanish, giving way to other emotions. Finally she just closes her pale grey eyes.

Spineth> Spineth watches the golden queen before he makes his own kill. He hesitates not, his catch is quick. With one efficient movement, he has launched himself, caught a hapless beast, and returned to a perch where he goes straight for the neck.

Merielan sweeps across the threshold, eyes flicking everywhere like some sort of tavern scum entering a seedy well--tavern. Eyeing everyone in the room, sizing them up. Whose competition and who isn't? She doesn't seem to make any judgements, just chooses a section of wall and curls her fingers to her palms. Waiting...

Greylin finds a nice spot to wait and leans her back against the wall, eyes on her clutchmate, waiting, patient.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio chuckles as she sips her klah. "That would be correct. Lucky you didn't get trampled by a horde of dazed riders and hungry dragons."

Zaidra brushes rain from her hair as she slips in, suddenly free of whatever she was reading. She tucks herself into a corner near the entrance-curtain, sinking to the floor. Might as well be comfortable.

TGW-LC>> Caless taps her lips thoughtfully. She glances back at the jacket she was working on by the hearth and chuckles. She has a feeling she won't be finishing that tonight. She gives the woodcrafter a bright smile, "Evenin' and yes. S'what I've been told."

Spineth> Cariath finishes that one and tosses it away with one enormous claw, as if disdainfully tossing a napkin to one side. Another catches her eye and she leaps on it. Again the jaws come down, again she is thwarted, and again she drinks deep rather then feasts.

Sh'yar takes a place opposite of Zaidra, only he pulls over a press, or stool or something to sit on by the entrance.

Miritha has a spring to her step, though by rights she ought to be feeling the cold due to her age; it appears, after a quick look at M'val, that part of her bounciness is due to his reactions upon seeing her. She settles into a casual lean against a wall, eyes sliding across all of the riders and lingering briefly on the few bronzeriders among them.

Spineth> Alwyth is not so picky. Most anything will do. Like take that fat ovine over there... er, that's exactly what he does: he snatches the poor, unsuspecting beast off its feet, and before it knows what's happening he takes its head off with a *snap* of his jaws.

Spineth> Chivalry has its limits for Indrath: he wheels 'til Cariath kills, and only then. Distant lightning may mimic the lattice of silver along wingsails spread the wider to slow his descent, and he satisfies himself to slay on the wing -- onyx talons take catch into an unfortunate porcine's back, and the sow's dragged through the hoof-wracked dirt until her hunter dips his muzzle to drink.

Spineth> Riolth takes his time choosing a beast, but once he does it's a bare moment before he's caught and killed it, dropping it barely out of the way of the others before settling on it.

Spineth> Alerith gives up on his *thwaping* perhaps sick of mimicing an annoyed feline. He surveys the herd beasts, discarding those who aren't good enough. Finally he chooses a young buck, strong and virile, just like Alerith? At least in his mind. He cups the buck almost like a cocktail glass, actually--at least it looks like tipping his herd beast 'glass' to Cariath in homage.

F'lone comes into the weyr, a little short on breath. He pulls up short as he sees all the riders presend. Though he doesn't say anything, he moves along the wall to a clear spot with an open view of Tarlo. After that first glance at the other riders, he doesn't give them any more attention.

Spineth> Gyreventh has a craving for mutton as he swoops down and grabs the poor bleating animal, upon landing he quickly consumes it's vital fluids before scanning the herds for something larger.

Spineth> Ymedath is slow to choose his target, watching first one terrified herdbeast, then another. Finally he chooses /the/ target, and slays the squealing animal with a quick slice of his claw. He hunches over it protectively, stealing glances at the others as he drinks.

M'val takes a position a few steps away from K'ran, similarly eschewing the support of the walls. He gives Miritha one more scowling glower before his expression smooths and he turns back to watch Tarlo.

Tarlo is slowly uncoiling herself, sitting up straight, her hands gripping the edge of couch. There's a quick lick of her lips, and another quiet murmur.

Spineth> Hroth circles quickly as he scatters the terrified herd and plunges to land on a large wherry. With a quick bite, he lowers his head and begins to drink the quickly spilling blood.

Spineth> Spineth makes quick work of the beast he holds in his talons, then drops it off his perch, seeming to listen to the thud it makes below before launching himself again. Once again, he spends little time or energy in chase or choosing. Straight for his target, the beast is taken, and back to his perch, the beast is now his meal.

Merielan's nails bite into her palms, but she doesn't seem to notice. Hooded grey-eyes are fixated on Tarlo, as if she were the watch in the hypnotists hand. Meri seems to watch the rise and fall of each breath, totally entranced.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio grins over at Caless, eyes dancing. "Did you have any particular bronze- or brownrider you're hoping loses?"

Spineth> Cariath flares her nostrils, still unsatisfied. She extends one long foreclaw, pins a porcine, and slowly drags it to her, ripping out its throat now almost gleefully. Her eyes whirl red and she notes the places of all the others. Plotting. Watching. Why won't they leave her to herself. Something must be done about this.

Greylin drums her fingers on her jacket's sleeve, her eyes narrow, fastened on Tarlo.

TGW-LC>> Jeroch pulls a hide from beneath his jacket, disappearing briefly to hang it on a hook once the madness has cleared. The smile remains upon his face, "I wouldn't mind being trampled by a dazed rider, if she were pretty," he replies to Kichevio, daring to be a tad flirtatious. To Caless he returns the bright greeting, "Evenin' miss. Mind if I join ya by the hearth? The sleet chills to the bones."

Not so rapt, K'ran, but as he's pulled those gloves on so too has he twisted a quiet pop from his left shoulder, so too has he folded his arms across his chest.

Tarlo notes the placement of each rider, meeting their eyes now and again guardedly, even as her dragon takes note of each bronze or brown's placement. Just a few moments longer....just a few more kills.

Spineth> Hroth finishes his warm drink. He glances out at the scattered herd as he tosses the drained carcass off to the side. He leaps up and circles the herd once, then dives and grabs an old ovine and moves to a nearby ledge do finish his drink.

Ursa draws back a little, withdrawing from the overwhelming size of the crowd. Fortunately, the guest weyr is generously sized, but still, she makes sure she has adequate space around her.

Spineth> Gyreventh scatters the heard and he swoops up one last cow and hauls it over to a dark corner to meet is's ghastly fate.

TGW-LC>> Caless chuckles softly at Kichevio, "Hmm...depends on his mindset after he loses. Be it woman or wine." She then smiles softly at Jeroch and waves at the bench she recently left, "Please, sir. Sit. I was just making myself a nice warm jacket but the excitement has me a little too anxious to sit."

Spineth> Alerith pushes some of the smaller blues and browns aside, like young boys jockeying for space in front of some pretty girl. He flutters his wings a bit, knowing that the light picks out the red and gold highlights within them, turning them into glorious masterpieces. One beast, blinded by the reflected radiance--or perhaps just stupid, runs right into the brown's chest, short work is made of this specimen.

Spineth> Late, but nothing daunted, Eneryth hurls himself down into the already panicked herds with a defiant roar. Here he is - the party can officially begin. Eschewing his usual fussiness, he tears through both wherry and bovine like eating's going out of style.

F'lone slides down the wall till he's sitting, his knees up to his chest. His eyes never moving from their studying of Tarlo.

Spineth> Riolth finishes off the one herdbeast he's gotten; this appears to be all he wants, as he opens his wings, fans them a few times, then crouches down a little, purple-blue eyes focused on Cariath.

Spineth> Ymedath moves in on another 'beast himself, this one casually dispatched, blooded with efficiency. No longer is this little brown the baby dragon who played with his food.

Spineth> Indrath'd abandon Cariath to her glower but for the blood yet to be spilled, the bright fuel yet to be consumed: a quick lunge of foretalons impales a panicked wherry, and now lean-framed bronze chases crimson with cocktail of vivid malachite.

Spineth> Hroth finishes his latest kill and tosses it off near his others. Now that he's finished, he waits and watches.

Spineth> Alwyth discards the drained carcass of the ovine, a few droplets of it's lifeblood falling like garnets scattered in the dust of the corral. He wastes no time in selecting his next victim, not when it comes, stampeding blindly toward him. He pins the herdbeast to the ground, ebon claws barely piercing its hide, freeing crimson droplets. Ivory teeth lower to silence it's bellowing by ripping out it's throat.

Merielan makes some more of the space her own, spreading her legs out in front of her. Her expression is utterly un-Meri-like, wary and closed. She shifts restlessly, but though her body may move, her eyes don't flick at all from there resting place--Tarlo.

Spineth> Kheprith finishes the second herdbeast he sneaked in there, the one he'd got when no one was looking at him, except /her/. He stomps on the remains of the beast, as if to squish more blood out of it, but finally tosses it aside, eyes fastening on his clutchmate.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio eyes Jeroch thoughtfully. "Trampling wouldn't be what I had in mind," she decides after a moment, and goes to refill her klah. "They'll usually take both when they're flight-lost. And if they're too insistent on one or the other, there's always the thord option of throwing them into the lake."

Sh'yar pulls out a small bottle from his belt pouch and takes a sip from it, before putting it back he offers it to Zaidra sitting across the entrance from him.

Ro leans against the wall, presses her back into it, as though gathering strength from its solidity. Focused, calm, however fleeting those emotions might be, rule her for the moment.

Spineth> Spineth's whirling eyes remain on the queen while he drains the beast, held fast in one careless talon, of its lifeblood. A flicker of wings betrays his alert, focused energy.

Spineth> Cariath finally seems to shake herself, like a canine rousting its fur. She roars at the males, interfering, invading, insufferable-! She suddenly crouches down tight, and makes a huge leap into the air.

Spineth> Cariath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her aloft -- much to the relief of the wherries.
Spineth> Cariath has left.

TGW-LC>> Caless chuckles at that, "In the lake? God, I wandered out and walked along the shore today for a moment. It must be freezing."

Zaidra inclines her head to Sh'yar, fellow guardian at the gate, and accepts the bottle. Her sip from it is almost dainty, a taste more than anything, and then she offers it back.

Spineth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor to carry you aloft -- much to the relief of the wherries.

Tarlo takes a sudden intake of breath as Cariath lifts off, her body almost lifts too, yet she remains seated.

Sh'yar accepts back the flasks and places it back in his pouch.

TGW-LC>> Jeroch laughs softly at both Caless and Kichevio's remarks, "A very bright answer," he says to Caless, pushing a chair up to the hearth. He relaxes into the chair, waving his hide. "I thought I might get some reading done myself, but probably not." His eyes glance back towards the Weyr entrance. "Did either of you see Leya in all that?" he ponders.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio snickers evilly. "Precisely. Frozen is better than flight-lost, if only marginally. No, I didn't see Leya this time around. Maybe Tovith's asleep. Evening, K'nan!"

Spineth> Hroth remains silent as he beats his wings, following that beautiful golden tail.

Spineth> Gyreventh no weak or slow brown quickly takes after the brillient golden queen following her with even strides of his powerfull wings.

TGW-LC>> Caless smiles apologetically at Jeroch, "I don't think I'm aquainted with Leya." She glances up at the greenrider that enters and smiles warmly.

Spineth> Kheprith merely leaps into the air and joins in the fun, his wings beating strong and powerful this early in the game.

Spineth> Old he may be - as dragons go - but Farlioth is neither slow nor unalert, to judge by his swift leap following Cariath, faster than most. Perhaps he's not putting as much effort into his wingbeats as others are, for he's overtaken by several others only a few wingbeats up. That shakes him out of his more casual speed, and he begins to use the necessary extra effort to stay no further from Cariath than the rest of the pack.

Merielan's body jerks as if someone had suddenly come along and poked her. -Hard-. Poked her -Hard-. And she looks -quite- upset about it, not that she looked exactly happy before. With a slight grumph-or growl, Meri resettles herself with somewhat ill grace.

TGW-LC>> "I see Cariath's finally gotten off her lazy arse and taken to th'skies, eh?" K'nan, of course, speaks the obvious as he strides along into the living cavern, one hand reaching back to scratch at his neck, a grin flashed over towards Kichevio, "G'deve, Kich."

Spineth> Cariath flaps her wings, claws grasping at air as she sluices through the air. She's no sleek and swift green, fast yes, but so easily spent. No, she's a queen, and she will outwit, outplay, outlast.

Ro's hands clutch the wall behind her reflexively and white knuckled, heralded by an audible intake of breath.

J'an has huddled in on himself, as if trying to vanish into the wall by force of will.

F'lone remains motionless in his spot against the wall, silent

TGW-LC>> "No, we're having a brownrider convention," Kichevio retorts good-naturedly to K'nan. "Come to wait for the afterwards pick-and-choose?"

TGW-LC>> Jeroch looks to be somewhat relieved by Kichevio's answer, although he tries to hide it with a smile. "Oh, that's quite alright," he assure Caless. "Have we met before?" he asks, breaking into a chuckle as K'nan's comment.

Spineth> In for a penny, in for a pound: Indrath's surging airborne with the rest of the pack as gleaming Cariath shifts and vaults skyward. He knifes up through the freezing rain, meets each gust of the near-gale with insouciant defiance; though he'll settle into unclaimed space near the rear edge of the quick-moving party of her suitors, he'll pilfer speed from the storm itself, and hoard strength with each smooth, elemental sweep of wings.

Spineth> Gyreventh tries not to keep up with the larger queen but rather to gain altitude on her and save his strength, he may not be as big as a bronze but he's faster, more maneuverable and definitely more cleaver than them.

Spineth> Alerith lags a bit behind. He's content, it seems, to be back here for a bit. But only for a bit. He's got one goal in mind, and it isn't to lose that golden prize. His whirling eyes are already ahead of everyone else, and the rest of his brown self will soon follow.

TGW-LC>> Caless goes over to settle next to Jeroch for a moment, moving her leather and fur back into her lap. She shakes her head, "Likely not. I'm fairly new about. I'm Caless. I'm up from Ista visiting with my brother, B'na."

TGW-LC>> K'nan's eyes roll in his skull good-naturedly at that comment, chuckling under his breath, "You're bad, Kich, y'really are.. I adore y'for it, but y'are." He winks, then, and finds a place near Kichevio and the others to sprawl out, looking around, "So aside from all the lusty dragons outside, how's everyone doing?"

Spineth> Ymedath follows with less of his usual exuberance, and more than a little fear sparking his obvious interest. He'll work on moving forward in a bit, it seems, but now? Just to fly is esnough.

Spineth> Oddly leisurely for such an intense encounter, Eneryth deliberately trails the pack of suitors, ruddys wings almost languid in their pace. But the gleam in the whirling eyes is as bright as that of any of the other pursuers.

Spineth> Hroth climbs slowly, but not to slowly, behind the gold, saving his strength for when it's really needed. His cromcoal hide, glistening from the rain, he soon settles into a steady pace near Indrath, following the wind when allowed, cutting through it when not.

Spineth> Spineth moves forward, upward with powerful wingstrokes. He is patient, and he is confident. The others here, they can dream, but in his draconic mind he knows, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the gleaming queen will be his tonight. He only recalls the feeling of triumph, of entwining with a newly caught lover, and he follows the queen swiftly, knowing that with time and some careful flying, the triumph again will be his.

Spineth> Riolth struggles some with the wind, managing to stay level mostly by dint of his large size. It takes him some time to adjust to the strength and changeability of the stormwinds, and when he does, he's a few winglengths to the left of the main pack. But not behind, and he immediately starts with harder, stronger wingbeats to try to pull ahead of them.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio simply lifts her mug in illustration. She has klah, a cushy chair, and a nice warm hearth. And even good company. "All is well."

TGW-LC>> "Welcome to Telgar then," Jeroch replies cheerfully. "It's a pleasure. I'm Jeroch, junior journeyman woodcrafter."
Telgar Weyr> Rytran just lets the spam go by and reads it later.:)

TGW-LC>> Caless smiles at Jeroch, "Well met, Jeroch. And thank you. I'm debating a long term visit, actually. If I can stand the cold," she says with a chuckle. She then turns to eye the greenrider, nodding at him. "I'll second Kichevio on that. All is well."

K'ran hasn't moved from the space he's staked out for himself save to brace both shoulders against the stubborn chill that hangs in the air. Doubt's vanished from that vivid blue gaze, replaced instead by a glassy distance that fails to quite find focus on Tarlo.

Spineth> Cariath doesn't bother looking behind her, she simply allows herself to burn some energy by beating her wings, allowing the great expanses of her wingsails to feel the thermals and rise. She lifts up, higher and higher until she's reached the highest she can.

Miritha's reaction to the start of the flight is a faint twitch upwards of one corner of her mouth, and a swift, amused glance around at the others.

Tarlo is nodding to herself, caught in her own inner desire to urge her dragon on. Every now and then her eyes flick torward the others in the room - she's become painfully aware of them.

Spineth> Kheprith is like the river barge, forcing his way on a straight line through the weather, not letting any of it get in his way. He may be a bit slower than some of the others, but he's implacable, and he won't stop until he's lost. His progress is measured not by position but by strength and cunning remaining.

TGW-LC>> Jeroch puts in his agreement with the ladies. "Yup, except the sleet. Too bad you can't choose the evening for your dragon to rise." A skittish, blue firelizard blinks in from *between* nudging Jeroch's cheek firmly. "Oh alright, I'll come," he insists. "My appologies," he offers to the surrounsing company. "I hope to return shortly."

Spineth> Alerith floats along the thermals much as a duck floats on the surface of a pond. If not for the urgency in the air, it might almost seem as if he was simply taking a pleasure flight. Well--in a sense. His eyes watch Cariath, as with a few swipes of his wings, he follows after her. He doesn't aspire to her heights, but is content to flow somewhat beneath her. Besides--she can see his good side that way.

Spineth> Hroth continues his steady beats, though he doesn't follow Cariath all the way up. He knows that she will eventually have to come down. And that's when he will be ready. But for now, he will continue to save his strength.

Spineth> Eneryth remains beneath, though the long neck is bent to keep his gaze firmly fixed on the queen - he makes no effort to follow her up to those lung-straining heights.

Merielan can't seem to stop the restless shifting of her legs. She draws them into her chest...stretches them out in front of her, repeats the pattern over and over again. With a cry of exasperation, she cages her legs within a circle of her arms and simply resumes Tarlo-watch.

M'val's sky-blue eyes are focused firmly on Tarlo, in contrast to the bronzerider mere steps to one side. The concentration he bends on her doesn't extend to the same control over his body: the nervous energy of the night shows as he begins to rock onto the balls of his feet and back down onto his heels, over and over.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio chuckles. "G'night Jeroch. Don't drown crossing the Bowl."

TGW-LC>> "Good, good.." K'nan chuckles under his breath, leaning back in the chair and nodding to the two ladies and the one man before offering a crooked grin, "..better than th'opposite at least." He rests his elbows on the chair's arms, hands folding loosely as he offers over to Caless, "I'm K'nan, by the by. Veyath's."

Spineth> Spineth extends his wings, seeking those thermals that will assist him. Upward, ever upward, forward, always forward, following her faithfully. The others, the bronzes, the browns, they don't exist, since they all will, ultimately, fail. Only the gleaming, beautiful hide of the soaring queen fills his vision, and he rockets along in her path, below still, but faithful to every move.

Spineth> Gyreventh too uses the thermals to lift himself higher, he's taught queens how to fly he knows how they move. Any distance he may loose to Cariath's expansive wingspan will be made up late when she begins to maneuver. For now his only goal is watch the golden beauty, learn how her supine body moves through the eddies and updrafts of the mountains. He watches her intensely with brilliant glowing purple eyes that shine out in the night like a beacon for her to come to.

Spineth> Farlioth watches the air in front of him, rather than the gold who's gone so high above; it serves him well, as he dodges out of the way of a less careful dragon. Out of the way, and a little upwards. Forward again, and upwards more, a slow gain of height instead of the swiftness the gold displayed.

F'lone's smoke-grey eyes are looking at Tarlo, though they seem even more greyer as his focus is only partially there. His hand, resting on his knee, he remains motionless.

TGW-LC>> Caless nods at Jeroch, "G'even." Then to K'nan she flashes a wide smile, "Well met, K'nan and the best to your Veyath. I'm Caless, from down Ista way."

TGW-LC>> "Hope not too! G'night!" Jeroch replies with a wry grin.

Dragon> Spineth senses that Tyrrath whuffles encouragement to her old friend. <<I chose you. She will too.>>

Spineth> Shadowy Indrath's more likely to be edged by Hroth than paced by him, and in different skies might chance to share winds rather than cache them. Tonight, though he's as fickle as the distant lightning: a blue-white fork of brilliance sets dusk-gleaming wings a-glitter as he slips free of the pack and angles for the air beneath Cariath, as he chances the less direct route while leaving his wake to stir snowfall to a small maelstrom.

A careless bronzerider is all eyes for the queen's rider, and he doesn't notice just how close to Ursa he's become. Without even looking at him, Ursa makes one careless flick of her wrist. Her long, brown, rain drenched braid *thwaps* the man across the face, right in the eyes. Not entirely unlike a runner, flicking away an annoyance with its own long tail. The bronzerider sinks to his rear on the floor with a moan... well away from Ursa.

Dragon> Flight sense that Alwyth chuckles at the wicked Ursa.

Sh'yar runs his hand through is wet hair, his black eyes are focused on Tarlo drinking in the sight of her. He long lovely hair and delicate build he can almost smell her fragrance filling the weyr.

Spineth> Such is the cunning of Cariath, glittering in the snowfall like a golden coin that all want in their grasp - having reached a proper height and distance, somehow keeping check of the positions of all those chasing dragons, she suddenly closes her wings and drops like a stone. She falls, falls /below/ the pack, and suddenly, the sharp -CRACK!- of her wings echoes across the sky as she lets the the winds carry her back and up, at a far diagonal and behind from all those males. They'll all have to turn now to catch up with her again as she twists and bugles mockingly. She speeds off in her new direction.

Tarlo suddenly throws back her head and laughs throatily, "Clever girl..." she purrs, and curls up on the couch now with a wicked smile, eyeing them all with glittering eyes.

Spineth> Riolth slipslides right as a small gust hits him, and curves his wings to take advantage of the next blast of wind: it pushes him higher with only the effort of holding his wings rigid against it. One second, two, and he's back to battling the wind in his efforts to stay close to the path Cariath is using, though not her height. Or her sudden dive - he begins a bank, letting the stormwind carry him in the right direction as he turns himself about.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio is peering outside, scowling slightly at the rapidly falling snow. "Faranth, and I'll have to go back to my weyr in _this_..." she grumbles under her breath. "Enough snow for you, Caless? I think the weather heard you say you were from Ista and had never seen any."

Spineth> Eneryth simply curls his wings to bank as tightly as he can, and does his best to rise to meet the queen. He's still not straining, though that long neck is already stretched to the utmost.

Spineth> Hroth turns his head as he watches that golden coin fall. Luckely he is down far enough and behind the pack that he doesn't have too much trouble in his turn, though he does catch a gust and falls a bit before he regains himself. Off after that golden coin he goes, picking up the pace now, longer and deeper strokes of his wings.

Spineth> Ymedath makes his own path through the storm-dark skies. Lighter, and theoretically quicker, than many of his brown brethren, he'd nevertheless been trailing, and now that gives him less ground to regain, as directions are switched. A glimpse of glowing golden hide, even in spite of the damp and the dark, gives him more incentive, and his usual youthful energy seems found again.

Miritha's eyes light up at Cariath's maneuver; she gives Tarlo a shining smile. Her face takes on the intent expression of one meeting a challenge where it was not, perhaps, entirely expected - though obviously welcome, to judge by the pleasure still in her eyes.

Spineth> Alerith turns his head to follow Cariath's flight, as always his eyes going before his body. He shows off a bit now--turning on a wingtip making his wing-sails gleam red like raw copper. He follows now, playing a much more adult version of follow the leader. Cariath is Queen of the air and he her loyal subject and follower. His wings flap again and again, drawing him just inches closer to the golden gleam that he thirsts after. Only one drink can slake his thirst--if he can catch her...

TGW-LC>> Caless chuckles softly, "Mayhap. Will there be a thick covering tomorrow? I suddenly have the urge to make a snowdragon."

Spineth> Gyreventh expecting Cariath to attempt just such a dive does not rise to the bait and maintains his position high in the sky. As the cleaver golden queens turns this way and that he now uses his wonderfull brown advantage to turn on the inside, gaining precious winglength close and closer to the treasure beyond price.

Spineth> Kheprith tilts on a wing to take advantage of Cariath's change in vector, but he still remains pointed at her, like an arrow loosed, yet far harder to shake loose or waver. Onward he flies, onward. He will never stop.

Spineth> Spineth finds that his path is no longer the path of the queen's... Indeed, her clever, clever move has him rocketing in the wrong direction. No matter... It's all part of the chase, and even as he banks to change direction without losing too much altitude, even as he assesses just how far away she really is, he still believes, in his confident draconic brain, that he will eventually be in the right place at the right time. Strong wide brown wings beat their way through the stormy skies, struggling to find the right thermals as he works to gain lost ground.

Zaidra glances at Tarlo briefly, more because Yme's making her than not, and then glances away. Small fingers reach out for the curtain at the entry, and she toys with the hem of it, like a small child playing with her mother's skirts, swishing the edge of it playfully.

Merielan jumps slightly as Tarlo speaks, grey eyes gleaming with some unknown emotion. Her legs twitch in her arm's hold--like restless children wanting to escape an over zealous parent. Meri holds her rebellious limbs in check, concentrating on a more important rebel...Tarlo and her crafty Queen.

Spineth> Tyrrath senses that Spineth answers from afar with a pleased rumble... though maybe a little winded... a whirling bluegreen thought of gratitude and affection.

Spineth> Farlioth has had plenty of time to practice very tight turns, and his belongs to a brown much closer to a blue's size, not the near-bronze he himself claims. Too tight for safety, perhaps, but just right to leave him pointed after the queen without losing much time.

J'an is also fidgeting, fingers tugging idly at the fastenings on his jacket.

Spineth> Cariath banks, lifting and falling as the thermals guide her, banking and making one turn after another, making them all work for their winnings. And they should. She is fast, she is beautiful, she is magnificient, and none yet have proced that they are worthy.

Sh'yar just smiles, at the lovely queen rider he would never mock her by saying 'not cleaver enough'. Gyreventh has chased enough queens not to be suckered into that simple trick.

Spineth> Already beneath, already braving those lower skies where frost's blown blinding, Indrath begs a sharper turn from the storm than most his size might dare: the dip of a wingtip, the smooth sweep of 'sails, and he's matched that angle she's wrought while losing little press. Lean frame's slung out long, now, and while he mightn't dare to close just yet, he makes a courser's pace with the unpredictable storm, not those familiar thermals, as his ally.

Ro opens her eyes, letting her quicksilver gaze fall upon Tarlo, as if none of the others even existed. She unconsiously fingers the tip of her braid, but otherwise remains unnervingly still.

Spineth> Hroth once again regains his distance and slowly closes in on that gold. He follows her, move for move as the distance is slowly dissappearing.

Spineth> Kheprith never wavers or falters. He just continues, his body shifted for maximum aerodynamics, his wings steadily stroking the air, a rhythm not to be interfered with by nature or other obstacles in the way. His eyes never leave Cariath, and always, he moves closer, implacably.

TGW-LC>> K'nan's lips curl in a slight grin at a sudden thought, and he shakes his head a little, chuckling. "I'm sure Veyath'll be thrilled by t'morrow.. she'll be out there playing in th'snow like always.."

Tarlo eyes the crowd of riders with pursed lips, slowly crabbing backward onto the couch once more. She sits in just that state, fierce eyes continuing to dart between riders.

Spineth> Spineth also rides the thermals. He will follow, turning as little as he possibly can to still remain on her trail. She *is* fast, and oh, she is beautiful, indeed, how magnificent. Large enough to compete, he is not so huge as to be clumsy, and he pursues faithfully, ever so faithfully, believing always that when she tires, he will be the one to entwine with her, because oh, she is magnificent beyond all possibilities.

TGW-LC>> "Saulith," Kichevio says in tones of woe, "will drop me in a snowbank again. Probably more than one. And I will turn blue, and catch a cold, and be miserable and sneezy." Dreadful predictions out of the way-- "But making snow dragons _is_ fun. There should be plenty for that by tomorrow."

F'lone's eyes flicker towards the other riders a moment before returning to Tarlo. His hands slowly relaxing from their tight clench.

Spineth> Alerith isn't quite as ponderous any longer. His eyes are moving--finding chinks in the competitions armor and moving through them. He dives and twirls, curls his wings in and flings them open to their largest capacity. The brown dances with the air, showing Cariath--the Queen--His Queen--how good a dancing partner he can be. His wings are beckoning arms, his tail that careful and gentle hand at the small of your back. His brown body that strong column to swoon agaisnt as the music of the air swirls around.

Spineth> Riolth has finally, it seems, made peace with the winds. Igen doesn't breed such storms, and Benden but rarely - and Thread dies in such storms, so he's seldom flown in them. Now, his fighting has turned into far smoother movement, using the wind here and presenting a smaller profile to it there, each wingbeat bringing him towards Cariath with steady precision.

M'val settles down at last, hands clasping behind his back and no longer rocking back and forth. His gaze has softened a little, and he ventures a slight, gentle smile as Tarlo's eyes cross him.

Spineth> Gyreventh forges ahead with mighty downbeats of this powerful wings. He enters a shallow dive to gain much needed airspeed and close in on the glowing queen that will be his. Closer and closer all the while keeping the lovely golden beauty below him, never taking his swirling violet eyes off her flowing form closer and closer he flies attempting to enter her blind spot so he will have that extra advantage over her when the time comes and her strength is too spent to continue.

Spineth> Indrath'd *chance* to offer such proof, drawn on as he is by the elusive scent of her through the tempest: her shadow, he, lightning-kissed and with only a scoundrel's gallantry. He'll arc wider of the pack again, dancing wide for that elusive space into which she might drift.

Merielan settles into her space of wall, about time too. She seems to have gained some measure of peace? or at least her rebellious limbs have come under control. She is silent and quiet and if not quite calm, still. Watching Tarlo and little else.

Spineth> Once trailing, now near the front of the pack, Ymedath's size (or lack of it) makes those banking turns a bit easier. It doesn't hurt that he's practiced loops with the greens, either. Still, following Cariath's path as best he can, he presses on.

TGW-LC>> Caless chuckles softly, "Now that's not very nice of Saulith to be dropping you in snowbanks and giving you colds. You know, I've never been sick in my life. B'na had a cold for the first turn he was here. I hope it won't be like brother like sister. But yes, I can't wait to play in the snow. B'na has promised me a snowball fight.

Spineth> Cariath continues her swerving and banking, and finally settles for flat out endurance. Her breath comes out in puffs of mist, she's finally starting to feel the burn.

Spineth> Farlioth appears to be playing with the wind; every time it pushes him he seems to be riding it with glee rather than merely accepting it or fighting against it. Playing or not, he's making progress, coming closer and closer, and mimicking each side-to-side Cariath takes as though it's part of his game with the wind.

Spineth> Kheprith speeds up just /slightly/, having seen Cariath settle in for the long haul. This is what he's good at, and he bulls his way forward, unstoppable.

TGW-LC>> K'nan shakes his head, grinning, "I'll leave the snowdragons to others, I think, and settle for watching Veyath play from my nice warm weyr.."

TGW-LC>> Caless wrinkes her nose at K'nan, "Spoil weyrsport. But then I guess you've seen your share of cold, wet, white stuff."

Spineth> Alerith doesn't stop dancing, he just changes it a little. It is less of a swing-dance perhaps and now more of a clasping close. He flaps his wings, straining forward for a moment, breaking up the line of the dance but coming just that much closer. He settles once more, becoming comfortable with his new space of air as dancing partner. Wings just slightly curled at the edges--like fingers beckoning closer. Come hither love.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio raises her mug in a mock-toast to K'nan's decision. "Every winter, I swear I'm transferring to Igen. Snow's best if you're not out in it."

Spineth> Hroth watches that golden beauty and, when she settles into her flight, he begins to beat his wings deeper. Taking longer strokes as he picks up speed. It is time to close the distance between himself and his queen.

Spineth> Spineth could fly to the end of Pern and back right now. Perhaps his body is tiring, but he wouldn't notice, as far as he's concerned, his endurance will never flag. Ahead of him, the gold queen, the magnificent glowing queen will have to tire, but he doesn't believe that he will. His strength will pull him as close as he needs, his flexibility will give him the tricks he needs to catch her, to join her in her exhilarating flight.

TGW-LC>> K'nan laughs, "I spend as much time as I can out down south, 'round Boll or such, when I can this season.." He grins back at Caless, "That I have, lass. Too many turns worth.. plus, th'cold is terrible with my shoulder."

Spineth> Gyreventh also starting to tire is much relived when lovely Cariath ends her aerobatics, now he let's gravity accelerate him towards the only thing in his world that matters. Tapping into the strength he reserved he now doubles he efforts approaching the golden beauty from just behind and well above her in the place not many look. Soon will come his chance very soon.

Spineth> Indrath's no more claim to endurance than gilded beauty yonder, but what strength wings lack storm -- and fervor -- may lend. His pace slackens not at all as she bears down, though browns may yet edge him, and now each elemental sweep of wings is measured, cadenced, from muzzle's leading edge through to tail's fork.

Spineth> Ymedath isn't showing signs of tiring at all, for all his tail churns through the sky with every arc of his klah-brown wings. A muted bugle escapes from the young brown, as if he's encouraging himself to keep going.

TGW-LC>> Caless smiles at K'nan, "Ah well. I shall frolick in the snow alone until B'na and Dirkith finish sweeps on the morrow. Provided some saucy green doesn't decide to distract Dirkith again," she says with a sigh. She tilts her head at K'nan, "Your shoulder...was it 'scored? Oh, sweet Faranth, I'm sorry. That is none of my concern," she says suddenly, picking up the fur and leather again.

Tarlo sighs a bit to herself. They're getting tired. The inevitable is coming. She almost insolently reguards the riders, their faces superimposed by the images of their dragons.

Spineth> Cariath is starting to feel the strain - over the expanse of sky, she begins too rise again, but slows in speed. A less hearty cry of defiance comes from her mouth, echoing across the mountains below.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio says wistfully. "Boll. The beach, the Lava Lounge, the beach, Shipfish Island, the beach...I need an excuse to go."

Miritha's return regard to Tarlo is on the edge of insolent, too - interested, but flavored strongly with amusement and pleasure.

TGW-LC>> Caless chuckles, "What, the beach isn't enough of an excuse?"

TGW-LC>> K'nan lets another laugh rise from his lips, one hand passing through the air in a careless wave. "Oh, aye, was turns upon turns ago though.. no need t'worry, lass, not as if it's some dire weight upon me. Jus' aches in th'cold is all.." He casts a grin towards Kichevio, then, "Bah. Who needs an excuse?"

Spineth> Kheprith speeds up just a little more, tapping into that reserve of strength he saved for just this occasion. His eyes burn and whirl swiftly as he presses onward.

Spineth> Hroth continues to close the distance, but, when Cariath begins to rise again, he doesn't follow. He remains below her. Following her with his gaze as he continues. She will fall. Will he catch her if she does?

Spineth> Farlioth echoes Cariath's rise in height for a few winglengths, just as he's been mimicking all her moves recently - but he doesn't slow as she is, and ceases his height gain. With all forward momentum now, he aims himself to come in below her, just a little to her right.

TGW-LC>> Caless flashes K'nan a grateful smile before putting quick, efficient stitching in her jacket, securing the fur lining as she waits to hear if Kichevio thinks the beach is enough of an excuse.

Spineth> Alerith 's tail curls upwards towards the Queen, like a brown filing to the golden sun magnet. Cariath is now wall-flower, but instead the prom-queen of the dragon ball. Alerith flicks his head, almost as if he were resettling his top-hat. The air caresses over his head spines, slicking them back in that ulitmate of sauve-coiffures. Alerith follows after the Queen who in this moment is his sun, wanting to make sure his name is on her dance card.

Spineth> Gyreventh almost creels in joy as he watches the queen rise and slow but he remains silent as not to alert her to his presence. Closer and closer he approaches her as she approaches him. Only one thing left to do now...

Spineth> Spineth hears Cariath's cry, and it calls his name. He wastes no energy on a verbal answer, instead, he moves forward, wings labouring to find him that one thermal, the one that will augment his own efforts, and help him take his place with that beautiful queen. He seeks his hidden reserves of strength, those that will take him past all these foolish ones, these foolish dragons who even think they might join the queen tonight.

Merielan leans back agaisnt the wall as if it were an embrace instead of a cold-unfeeling wall. Her eye-lids drop lower yet--as if Meri were falling asleep. Sleep is the farthest thing from her mind, instead it is almost as if what she looking at is too brillant to be seen with wide-open eyes.

TGW-LC>> Kichevio laughs. "Oh, it's a perfect excuse in my mind. But I can't very well go up to my Wingleader and tell her I won't be at drills this afternoon because I'll be sunbathing on Shipfish Island. That doesn't quite fit."

Zaidra turns away from the curtain to watch Tarlo now, though her hand stays twined in the fabric. Her green eyes are open, curious, just...watching.

Sh'yar breaths deeply from his chest, woman and dragon one and the same, both desirable.

Spineth> Riolth has been working hard all this time, but never so much as now, with the sight of the queen slowing a spur to his wings. He edges upwards, working for more altitude than she's getting - not much more, but a little. Just a little, and without losing speed, without slowing.

Spineth> Indrath answers defiance with aught else but the sharp grasp of wings through the storm; but as others close he founders, and with no hand left to play drops from the chase and angles toward the wind-wracked lake below.

Ro's fingers inadvertantly dislodge the bit of thong that binds the tip of her braid, and it begins to unravel. The brownrider herself, though, seems utterly oblivious to that particular turn of events.

Spineth> Indrath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.
Spineth> Indrath has left.

Ursa's hand curls around her braid, a braid that is still wet, but no longer troubling any rivals. She is tugging on it gently, completely unaware of the motion. As far as she's concerned, she's somewhere up in the stormy skies, settling into another riotous thermal.

TGW-LC>> Caless hmms, "I suppose that could be a problem. Drills might be a little more important than smoothing out tan lines on Boll beaches."

Spineth> Cariath lets out one final shriek, trying to twist and dodge the pursuers that crowd in around her. Grasping at nothing, her body is lifted by lifted by a thermal, the very same thermal that Spineth is riding on, and the brown finds his worshipful patience well rewarded.

M'val's steady gaze on Tarlo is broken at last; he shuts his eyes tight, face scrunching up with sudden worry.

K'ran stiffens, suddenly, and those gloved hands curl to fists as the fall to his side. But for the cadence of boots on stone he leaves silence in his wake as he turns, as he walks from the guest weyr.

M'val turns on one heel and follows K'ran out, eyes springing open in what might be relief as he quickens his pace.

TGW-LC>> "Can't think why," Kichevio says with a huge sigh, and then nods, smiling. "Spineth. Good for him, the old boy hasn't won a flight in Turns."

Merielan's body releases it's tension and she stands and walks out, sighing softly.

F'lone stands suddenly, his fists clenched tightly, amd quickly departs.

Relief, relief floods through Zai's expression, as she rises and leaves.

TGW-LC>> Caless glances at Kichevio and blinks, "Oh. Is it over?" she asks, her gaze drifting towards the entrance to the bowl.

Dragon> Tyrrath bespoke Spineth with << You see? A dragon knows. >>

Dragon> All dragons sense that Cariath thankees to all. You were all really magnificient!

Tarlo's eyes rivet on Ursa, and no other.

TGW-LC>> K'nan glances back over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. "Spineth? Huh.. that has been awhile, aye, for him."

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << *Hey*! No calling my clutchmate old! ;) >>

Miritha lets out a soft sigh and turns to follow the others out, lips curved in a wry smile.

Spineth> Spineth's trumpet echoes from the mountains, as he quickly reaches out to entwine the queen. From trumpeting to a soft crooning, she is as beautiful and magnificent here as she was from afar. He spreads his wings to ensure the safe and slow flight and descent of his newly caught lover.

Ursa may not have shared her dragon's confidence.... she remembers well the times he hasn't caught. In fact, she had planned to visit a small crafthall later tonight. Her amazement and wonder is apparent on her face...