"You're going to fly today, aren't you, Xhori?" Angeoria stepped back from her queen's side, hands on hips.

Yes, Xhorieth agreed, so calmly that her rider wondered for a moment what was going on.

The golden-white dragoness gave her a calculating glance. We both know that I shall rise soon. Why should I deny it?

"Well, so many proddy greens and..." She caught her bond's eye, and shrugged. "Forget it."

Xhorieth bristled slightly. I would never do anything so cliche.

Angeoria sighed, realizing the futility of debating anything with Xhorieth just now. "I only wondered why you made me do all this, since we're in agreement that you'll rise today," she muttered, half to herself, and stared pointedly down at the tubs of soapy water and oil that the golden-white had insisted upon. Xhorieth had been capable of washing herself in any lake large enough since they'd graduated from weyrlinghood... so why this?

I must look my best for my suitors, Xhorieth informed her, sounding as if this was something that anyone should know. And with that comment, she swept majestically out of her weyr to sun on the ledge outside, under the interested gaze of nearly a third of the Special Clutch Zone's male dragon population.

"Right." She glanced out to the weyr's ledge, saw that her queen was curled, basking in the sun, and began to clean up.
 

But Xhorieth did not sleep; she opened an eye bluey with amusement, purple-tinged from something more. Stretching like a huge feline, she got to her feet, spreading snow-spangled wings, and dropped off the ledge.

She flew silently down through the Weyr, watched by seven pairs of opalescent eyes. A Night blue made as if to follow her, but she snapped angrily at him, and he returned to a safer distance. Xhorieth smirked, grudgingly approving. You may look, but don't touch!

She half-folded her wings in preparation for landing at the feeding grounds; another flash of color caught her eye. A green-silver dragoness already fed there, and before she could blood her first beast, another green dropped in. They annoyed the much-larger gold, but she would tolerate them if they stayed out of her flight-path.

She tasted hot blood; the bitter, salty taste gave her heightened strength, to kill and to fly. The rush it gave her made her crave more, and she dropped three more beasts, uncaring that the males had drawn closer.

Rearing onto her hind legs as if to search for another beast, she thrusted away from confining ground, and became one with the sky.
 

A gust of air ruffled Angeoria's hair; startled, she glanced up, and had to fight to keep from being sucked into the vortex of Xhorieth's power.

Her queen climbed tirelessly, so high she became little more than a shimmering mirage in the endless blue of the sky. Angeoria watched her for a moment, carried high on racing emotions.

The spell snapped as Xhorieth ended her battle for altitude, and Angeoria became aware of the presence of the men, the riders of those who would claim her bond. They gathered silently around the steps that led to her weyr; she stopped them there with one hand outstretched. "Wait."

A few paced, caught up in the intensity, the tension that almost crackled through the air, but none ascended. She waited until all stood still.

"I've met some of you, others not, but I know each of your bonds aspires to catch my Xhorieth. It was her idea to come here, to Tripaldi, and hers alone. I will not object.

"But we have discussed this, and agreed - Hear me well, O riders! - that you must understand the one rule.

"Xhorieth is Senior Queen - but only in her own Weyr. It does not matter who catches her now. This flight shall not choose a Weyrleader for Abri."

"What?"

She recognized the voice of one, the charming Lord Noone, who watched her with some indignation. "You heard me, my Lord. I have ruled Abri alone for several Turns, and if this changes, it will be at my choice. Xhorieth chooses the sire of her clutch, but Abri's government shall not rest in the passions of a mating flight. Not this one, not now."

She spread her arms to the wind, smiling slightly. "And now, I wish you and your dragons all the best of luck. We will await the outcome of the flight."
 

A veritable hurricane of wind shook Xhorieth; she ignored it, and maintained her height. Far below, the multi-colored circle of dragons reminded her of a grounded firelizards. Where were their wings? Could they not fly?

She bugled, harshly, and the winds stole her cry, carrying to those below. Perhaps they feared to chase her - a wise caution - but she, Xhorieth of Abri, would not let them all go without a battle.

As one, her chasers took to the air.

Night blue Wiamth, smallest of the dragons, took a quick lead; but the wings of the others were far larger, and he was soon outdistanced. His brown clutchmate gave him a passing glance but did not wait. Flights were no time for sympathy.

The brown-blue Minicioth had practiced tirelessly for this moment; he felt no qualms at streaking past Racerth the moment the Night brown's eyes left the golden illusion. Racerth slowed, confused, and Wiamth seized the moment to win back the sky he had lost. For a moment, blue and brown flew wing to win; then both surged forward at the same time, limbs tangling and sending them plummeting down. Xhorieth laughed scornfully and unpityingly. Over-competitive. In seeking to out-do each other, they lose the prize.

Perhaps, black-gold Assassinezth, flame-streaked shadow, hissed in reply. But I shall succeed. Fate...

He was the current leader of the pack, and Xhorieth waited, nerves on edge, until he was almost on top of her. Then, she lashed out fiercely, scoring another golden hide. I write my own destiny, arrogant one... And you... you are not a part of it!

The black-gold fell, shocked, tearing Minicioth from the sky in his blind descent.

Clearly practice cannot prepare you for everything, the gold-white mused, mental voice icily mocking. An unexpected shadow fell over her and she dropped instinctively, wings folded to her sides. From twenty dragonlength's below, she stared up at the copper-brown who'd attempted to ensnare her. And I care nothing for your rider's bargain with Fate, O valiant Vaillanth. They will have to seek some other form of gold.

Above her, another white-winged dragon slid into a graceful dive. Ignoring him for the moment, she winged in a slow circle, searching for other pursuers. None came to view.

The elegant bronze had made the same observation, perhaps, for he slipped smoothly to her side, extending a wing graciously towards her. My lady, I...

She was tempted to surrender, to let him take his prize, but a spark within her refused to be doused without struggle... And thinking back, she recalled his easy compliments, but also that he had been... tiresomely flattering.

Decision made, she turned to face him, matching his own grace. My Lord Ylpeath -

- Eager, he reached out for her -

- You'll find that beauty is not everything. Farewell.

And dropped away, leaving him bewildered and for once wordless among the clouds.

Had she outflown them all? A wave of satisfaction and pride rolled over her, but it was tinged with a troublesome current of annoyance. Then... none were good enough, none were strong enough to try, to succeed?

Strength over beauty, O Xhorieth? The mental voice was quietly amused. My rider would understand, and be comforted, I think, if Angeoria feels the same.

I care nothing for your rider! Xhorieth screamed, pulling together the last shreds of her defiance. She couldn't place the voice; her response was mere reflex. But...

You would discard the first to seek you, eradicate me from memory so quickly? He seemed disappointed, but dignified. Then I respect your choice; I would rather that than be repelled by you. Fly high, Xhorieth, in your hard-earned, lonely skies.

Right, too right he was, and - Xhorieth streaked down through a haze of clouds, and they met in the darkest center; the darkest of white, as they too were antithesis: Night and snow-white.

First and last I accept you, Xerith, she pledged, and received a serious though warm mental smile.

I know, my Xhorieth.
 

Angeoria returned to level earth and stone as Xhorieth surrendered herself to her chosen. She sttod alone, but... "T'lan..."

He ascended slowly, yet unsure of himself, and, impatient and consumed with inner fire, she ran to him. They stood together for a moment, silent; then, she brushed away his bangs, looked up to meet a green eye and a grey.

"I can't believe that..." he whispered, but she cut him off, placing a slim finger to his lips. "Believe, T'lan. Believe this!"

It was a strange start of a flight, or at least Hylee thought it was. Not that she'd ever been involved in a flight before, so she really had nothing to compare it against, except her observations of others.

But when Raitarth informed her rider politely that she was to rise now, Hylee thought the light green was joking. But when she'd questioned the dragon after a moment, she realised the speckled light green wasn't listening, nor in close vicinity.

Hylee yelled for a while to empty space, annoyed at her dragon. But afterwards she clattered down the stairs with little regard for the well-being of others, and sprinted over to the feeding pens. It was a myriad of colours and wings and snarling dragons - Hylee established that Raitarth was rising along with the other two rising females. She couldn't locate the speckled green-white amongst the dragons, but instead just yelled mentally to her dragon the instructions she'd been explicitly told.

Hylee heard Raitarth's distinctive bellow from somewhere within the pens, but then the dragonrider had to skitter backwards as, in a flurry of beating wings and flashing colours, three of the dragons rose into the air. With steady, pumping wings, the three rising females started off.

For Faranth's sake, Raitarth! The other way! Hylee called desperately as the speckled light green made to follow the other two females. Hylee didn't quite understand why the three females weren't fighting already - though she'd been reassured they wouldn't - but she didn't want them starting to fight in mid-air.

Raitarth hesitated for a moment, but then in another whoosh the chasers rose from the feeding grounds, and that decided the green-white; she raced off in the other direction, her group of chasers peeling off from the others as they pursued the glowing light green.

Raitarth turned her head slightly, adrenaline from the herdbeast's blood sustaining her. There was grey, black, brown, red, white, bronze, blue, cream chasing her - she felt a satisfaction that she was worthy of the 'rare' chasers, and the 'rare' flight. With a disdainful flick of her tail that belied her thoughts, the green-white turned sharply. It sent one of the males spinning out of control; the brown-black Keverek dropped to the ground surrounded by the crowing triumph of the green-white at having lost her first chaser.

The two mostly-blue dragons were leading the pack as they trailed the green-white; as far as anyone could tell, Merlinth and Dracoth were trying to see who could best the other, more than chase Raitarth. They strained, muscles bunching, vaguely following the path through the air that Raitarth was making.

Dracoth had pulled a neck length in front of Merlinth when the lighter blue lunged forward. He almost crashed into Raitarth, who had spun around to mock her pursuers; both blue and green paused for a moment to recover their wits, and then Raitarth gave a scream. Merlinth tried to take advantage of the situation, and lunged again as Raitarth swung away. Merlinth managed to foul his wings in his brother's, however - Raitarth mocked them as both blues had to untangle themselves, and both dropped back to the ground, defeated - but blaming each other for it.

The brown-cream Jigokuth and rather multicoloured Sploth both dived down at her in the same instant. Raitarth flared her wings abruptly, and both dragons overflew her. Her confidence up, Raitarth dropped back down between the pair - Jigokuth took a lunge at her, and Sploth, seeing the female he wanted to win about to be won by another, lunged for Jigokuth. There was a flurry of dragon limbs and wings, and somehow Raitarth managed to extricate herself from the two males and continue on her way; Jigokuth ended up with his tail and Sploth's mouth, but after a brief scuffle both dragon dropped to the ground.

Raitarth kept flying, her wing beats steadily dropping their pace and consistence as the energy that had sustained her slowly ebbed away. She gave a look over her shoulder, at the two dragons remaining - both were on equal terms, trying to get an advantage over the other.

It was at that instant that the speckled light green's wings gave out; her stamina had held her for a long time, but not any longer. She started to drop like a stone, but then she felt talons closing around her wings, and the strain of the dragon above her to support her weight. She somehow found something else within her resources, and slowed her downward fall; she looped her neck so she could see above her, to see the male who had won her. She saw the distinctive swirls of lighter brown on his wings, and the figure of grey-black Queth spiralling back down towards the ground, hundreds of dragonlengths below.

Hylee's glazed eyes barely refocused; she was immediately annoyed. Her dragon seemed to know who the dragon who'd won her was, but hadn't thought to pass that information on to her rider.

"That would be Dhumdhuanath..." A voice said from behind her. Hylee turned to behold M*jora.