Outside the Living Caverns
  Up here in the mountainous regions of the northern continent, the air is
forever cool except for those few days in the summer.  This area is almost
constantly busy with people walking in and out of the living caverns just
off to the west as well as to and from the bowls.  The ground has become
grassy on the slightly sloped sides over the turns now that Thread had
stopped falling, and on the sunny days, the weyrfolk come out to do the
minor chores out here.  Just outside the caverns, dragons can be seen
lounging on the grassy knolls while waiting for their riders to come out of
the caverns or to socialize with the others, occasionally playing with the
lower cavern children.
  Near to twilight, the eastern horizon darkens with the coming of full night.
The winter wind blows a strange note, one of sorrow and doom foreboding.
Tearing recklessly across the area, what dead foliage had not formerly been
stripped from its home now is ruthlessly grabbed.
You see Idrielth, Siri, Iolith's Cowardly Saffron Lion Egg, Nereus,
Fabrinath, Eros, Typhon, Vanuth, Audath, Timoth, and Ares here.
Tam is here.
Obvious exits:
Living Caverns     Northern Bowl     Central Bowl     Infirmary

Timoth arches long neck in confusion. Tam merely chuckles and whispers.
"Don't worry dear.....just give him some space. Must've gotten up on the
wrong side of the ledge this morning." Tam looks up at a smaller brown she
recognizes, and actually grins. "Ares! What are /you/ doing here?"

Ares circles Ryath warbling

Audath looks eagerly toward Ryath, crooning a soft hello and moving to give
his clutchmate a place to land.  Eye whirl faster.

Rowena slides off Ryath grumbling as she tromps into the main cavern.
"Whatcha think?  Ya think I spend all m'time worryin about Caz.  Is that
whatcha think?"  Waves is tossed at Tam on the way through.

Main Living Cavern (#2000)
The domed cavern of Bahrain Weyr's living cavern is ever filled with a warm
and friendly ambiance.  Several ventilation shafts open up at the ceiling to
allow the passage of fresh air inside, formed from the natural crevices of
the ancient volcano, while the walls are brightly decorated with accented
designs from colored cements used to fill in cracks in the stone.  The
living cavern is filled with stout, highly carved 'tables' where 'riders'
and 'weyrfolk' work, talk, and relax.  The hearths are always lit and pots
of stew and klah are always available, though the klah supply drops
dramatically in the mornings.  Trays of food are brought in by the drudges
every so often, topped with meatrolls (covered so that the firelizards don't
get them), bubblies, and other treats.  The bar lies near the hearth, where
riders take great advantage of the wines, keeping Bob the bartender quite
busy.
You see Alex, Astrea, Pirate, and Apollo here.
M'rika is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Lower Caverns     Kitchen Area

 M'rika looks up at Row, eyebrow raising, "Hello, m'dear...  How is my
favorite green rider today?"

<Ryath>  Tam shakes her head, backing away from the testy brown, once more
warning Timoth to be good. She then gestures to Ares. "Well, come on if you
wish....I'm going in to see Tenne."

W'ley wanders in with S'ord, laughing at some joke the other said. "You're
kidding, ain't you?"

<Ryath>  Tam goes through the archway into the infirmary.

<Ryath>  Audath moves between Timoth and Ryath with a stern bugle at the
young brown to keep his distance.

M'rika sighs to herself, sipping her klah and waving to W'ley and S'ord,
"Hullo..."

<Ryath>  Timoth's whirl quickly, but he remains sedate and avoids the other
brown. Just you /wait/ till he's older. No more deferring then!

Rowena's feet are making impressions in the floor.  Stopping she manages a
soft smile at Miri, W'ley and S'ord.  "I'm fine thank ya Miri how's yerself?"

<Ryath>  Ryath rises on hind legs and fans wings outwards bugling softly.
<<See how beautiful my hide glows.>>

S'ord casts a wave to M'rika, but his attention is drawn to Rowena. Ah, yes,
now /there's/ an alluring woman. (Wouldn't have a -thing- to do with her
green being proddy, oh no. ;)

<Ryath>  Ares hovers near Ryath warbling and /crOOOooooooOOOooooning/

M'rika shrugs to Row, waving to offer a seat, "I'm trying to get Audath to
see something besides your brilliant green lifemate, actually..."  she
manages a nervous smile.

<Ryath>  Timoth's /eyes/ whirl quickly and he snorts at Audath. No need to
get testy. No even old enough to fly......*sigh* And such pretty wings.......

<Ryath>  Ares sticks his tongue out at Audath.  He warbles at Ryath.
'pertypert...BIG and PRetty!

<Ryath>  Audath croons a deep throaty note <<Lovely, you are clutchmate>>.
Brown-nosing?  me???

Rowena fills a mug with shaking hands as she gives the door a glare.  "Good
luck.  Even Caz wuz havin trouble with Asarith an /he/ ain't even old nuff."
Wan smile takes in S'ord and W'ley /and/ Miri and she feels surrounded.

It suddenly dawns on Miri that she should be hiding up in Sahrinth and
Audath's weyr and she blushes deeply.

<Ryath>  Ryath trumpets again as she arches her neck and lands back lightly
on her front feet.  Crooon becomes seductive song as she scents the air.

<Ryath>  Ares circles the dragon. warbling. 'pretty wings...pretty
hide...yep yep..." croon

<Ryath>  Timoth warbles slightly, not sure he should be here right
now......his lifemate would /kill/ him if he tried to fly Ryath.....but such
pretty wings...!

<Ryath>  Audath rumbles deeply in his throat, stretching neck along the
ground toward Ryath <<We should fly together, you and I...>>

<Ryath>  Ares flies over and begins scolding Audath...nothing subtle
here...a constant barrage of a miffed 'lizard this.

<Ryath>  Audath ignores the pesky little firelizard, continuing to croon to
Ryath.

<Ryath>  Tam climbs up using Timoth's riding straps and getting a lift from
his foreleg.

<Ryath>  Timoth launches skyward in a flurry of wings.

<Ryath>  From above, Timoth wings up from the ground.

M'rika sips her own klah, not looking at anyone else in the room.  Oh, shards.
<Ryath>  From above, Timoth flies off towards the southeast.

<Ryath>  Ares flits around Audath's head...'scruffy hide...no manners...hah!
as if the big green pretty would even'

W'ley chuckles, his eyes drawn over to Rowena, too. He does like harpers,
you know. It's... infamous. ;) "How are you this fine day, Rowena?" he asks.
"Well, I hope?" Sure looks fine from this direction.

<Ryath>  Ryath bugles again softly.  Big green pretty /would/ if brown is
clever enough to catch her.

Rowena adds cream to her cup slopping it over on her hand and having to lick
it off quickly.  "Oh an I'm fine, W'ley, I ain't seen you since we went ta
Harper t'gether."  And she well remembers his proclivity for the ladies.

W'ley clears his throat, glancing away as Rowena licks her hand off. Naughty
boy. "Yes, been busy teaching the lings, you know."

M'rika looked up at just the wrong time.  Bright red, she studies her klah
with every bit of attention she has.

<Ryath>  Ares barks in shock!

<Ryath>  Audath croons.  He is more than clever enough to catch her.  He is
the best there is at Bahrain...
 

<Ryath>  Ares , confidence shook. 'I'm bigger than he is...and faster too!'
well he is to his point of view anyway.

S'ord kerplunks himself in a chair near Rowena, but not too close. His eyes
never waver from the green rider. "Oh, uh, what were we talking about, W'ley?"

<Ryath>  Ares flits over to and lands on a rock preening...he eyes Audath
suspiciously.

<Ryath>  Ryath rises on hind legs and trumpets noisily.  As wings beat the
air her tone takes on a demanding quality.  <<Blood!>>

<Ryath>  Flying above the Living Caverns, you can always see a few people
below, day or night.  Once in a while, a dragon will fly into the area, and
then out, sometimes landing to drop of their rider.  Ledges dot the bowl
here, and you can see some dragons out on the ledges, enjoying their rest.
The wind blows against you, pushing you back.

<Ryath>
<Ryath>   The winter wind blows a strange note, one of sorrow and doom
foreboding. Tearing recklessly across the area, what dead foliage had not
formerly been stripped from its home now is ruthlessly grabbed.
<Ryath>  Obvious exits:
<Ryath>  Central Bowl     Northern Bowl     Outside the Living Caverns
Ledges

<Ryath>  From below, Audath continues to flirt with Ryath, head low to fly

<Ryath>  From below, Audath launches skyward in a flurry of wings.

<Ryath>  Audath wings up from the ground.

Rowena sits down hard as face turns a sickly white.  "She's up."

<Ryath>  From below, Ares leaps up...another quick raspberry at Audath.

<Ryath>  From below, Ares launches skyward in a flurry of wings.

<Ryath>  Ares wings up from the ground.

<Ryath>  You wing off towards the center of the Weyr.

<Ryath>  Ares swoops in from the northwest section of the bowl.

M'rika groans softly, "No, no no no...."  she drops head to arms on table.

Some could say something similar about some of the men in the cavern, too.
;) "Is she now?" W'ley asks absently.

<Ryath>  Ares flits around in circles...hovering.  A true tactician...he's
gonna hover in circles

Rowena hand shakes.  "She's... she's at t'feedin pens."  Rowena's voice is
stark terror as Ryath dives
looking for a suitable beast to blood.

<Ryath>  Feeding Grounds
<Ryath>
<Ryath>  The pens of roaming herdbeasts lie to the left while the pens of
wherries are on the right.  The thick musk of their hides permeates the very
air of the feeding grounds.  Dark red stains on the stone floor here mark
where many of these animals have met their fate in the deadly maws of
draconian devours.
<Ryath>  At the back of the feeding pens, you can see the wooden stables
where the animals find some refuge from the weather.  The gated fence is
always locked when it's not in use and the path to and from the stable is
quite worn for it is in constant use.
<Ryath>
<Ryath>  With full night consuming the eastern sky, Rukbat silently dips
below the western horizon.
<Ryath>   The winter wind blows a strange note, one of sorrow and doom
foreboding. Tearing recklessly across the area, what dead foliage had not
formerly been stripped from its home now is ruthlessly grabbed.
<Ryath>  You see Sorcereth, Gameth, and Audath here.
<Ryath>  Obvious exits:
<Ryath>  Bowl     Weyrling Area

M'rika keeps her head down, fighting Audath with all she can muster, "Stupid
brown..."

<Ryath>  Ares lands, wings flapping hard.

<Ryath>  Ares hovers above circling...keeping a wary eye on the other suitors.

<Ryath>  Audath spots a victim and with ken, neat precision takes the wherry
down.  not a single muscle twitch wasted in the kill, he eagerly drinks the
red fountain.

<Ryath>  Ryath pounces looking for just the /right/ one.  Hmmm not that one,
land sakes no!  Flip of her crinoline and she wafts around trying to find
/just/ the right one.  Finally choosing a not too fat, not too skinny one
she pounces and delicately tears out the jugular and begins to sup on the
blood.  Mercy me!  Just as good as any drink her daddy ever prepared!

<Ryath>  Gameth swoops down, spearing a herdbeast with deft claws, dragging
it up to a perch to rip open its throat, drinking deeply of the wine of
lust, whirling eyes fixed on the green lovely glowing enticingly.

<Ryath>  Ares pounces on a vtol bug and bloods it midair...

<Ryath>  Ares tosses the blooded bug at Audath. 'I'll show you' he chirps

Rowena's own eyes whirls nearly as deep a purple as her lifemate's in her
white face.  "She's sure inna strange mood this time."  Her own hips sway as
she seems to taste the coppery blood as it slides down avid green throat.

<Ryath>  If Audath had a moment, he might consider blooding the annoying
firelizard, but he is too intent upon his next victim.  Poor, innocent
herdbeast.  It never had a chance.

M'rika looks up at Rowena, eyes unfocused and teeth clenched.  She seems to
be moving all against her will.

W'ley watches Rowena avidly, hands clenching alternately as he licks dry
lips. "She's all right, isn't she?" the ling master asks, even in the midst
of this growing need of dragonlust.

<Ryath>  Ryath looks up and trumpets again as she seizes the next unlucky
victim... not quite as choosy this time.  Lawd a' mighty but she has a
powerful thirst tonight.  Flick of her haunches shows her disdain of the
males as they blood their kill as green hide pulsates with the thick, rich
taste in her mouth.

Rowena nods as she licks her lips nervously.  "She's fine.  I guess."  This
is only the second flight for the antsy green and Rowena is not yet an old
campaigner.  Eyes dart around the room hoping, hoping all the 'lings are
safe in the barracks.

M'rika forces a few deep breaths, hugging her arms close to her body, "Shard
it all, Audath..."  she grinds, eyes now pasted on Rowena...  Who is looking
rather attract...  Stop it!

<Ryath>  Gameth trumpets loudly a carol of love to the lovely young green,
challenge to the would-be suitors that would dare to chase -his- green.

<Ryath>  Ares being the tactician here...and a cheater...hovers above...waiting.

<Ryath>  Audath does his best dragon-snort of amusement.  Ryath belongs to
/him/ if to any...

<Ryath>  See chitters to Ares that he is making a fool of himself over a female!

<Ryath>  Ares barks at Sye. 'not just any female!  the Big Green pretty!
you stay over there to or...or...or else!' he chitters angrily

<Ryath>  Sorcereth raises a bloody muzzle, casting a withering look towards
the other males, his own bugling ringing off the walls and further panicking
the herds. Not that he cares, hot blood for the hotblooded bronze... and a
green for desert.

<Ryath>  Sye chitters calmly that /he/ isn't nutso.  He is just here to observe!

<Ryath>  Ares chirps 'uh-huh...yeah...right...traitor'

<Ryath>  Apollo flips back his wings and cocks his head, watching the
proceedings with growing excitement.  Where's a pretty little green when you
need her?

<Ryath>  Audath finishes the blooding of his third kill and lets the remains
of the blood drip down his throat as he watches Ryath intently, ready to
spring after his mate.  Failure is /not/ an option for his hunting desires.

<Ryath>  Ryath flips her tail in sinuous abandon as she pounces on the third
of her kills.  Neatly snapping the neck she again sinks muzzle into the neck
and continues to drink near to bursting.  Eyes whirl purple fire as she
gives each suitor a flip of her muzzle in disdain.  Y'all will have'ta
/catch/ her first!  And she can fly free and fast!

M'rika stands, pacing toward Rowena and then turning away to stalk to the
wall.  What is going on here?!! her mind shrieks as she still hugs her arms
close.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth crouches over the last carcass, muscles tensed like
titanium cords, waiting to be released like a catapult into the skies, after
the enticing green ahead that dazzles his eyes.

<Ryath>  Sot watches with mute interest. Where /are/ the smaller greens?
That one is /much/ too big,
despite being much too pretty too. Red blood looks nice against green hide.
Rather festive, actually......

Rowena thumps down on her chair looking at Miri, then W'ley then S'ord.
Which one?  Shells and shards!  Shaking hand manages to spill her klah
across the table.  "Shells!"

<Ryath>  Ares circles.  He warbles a quick apology at Sye...but keeps his
eyes on Ryath

<Ryath>  Sye's eyes twirl with mirth.  Good friend, silly flit!

W'ley manages to feel for a towel, tossing it to Rowena, knowing full well
touching the rider would be a Bad Idea<tm>

M'rika paces back and forth, close behind Row and muttering to herself about
how she has never noticed how lovely Rowena's eyes are, stupid brown, and
her hair, fardling dragon...

Rowena grabs for the towel as she manages a grateful smile.  Good old W'ley
is showing some unaccustomed sensitivity.  "Thanks."  Strangled but said.
Turning she watches Miri pace.  She'd /say/ something but her own eyes are
full of speculation.

<Ryath>  Ryath's flick of tail near mimics the flick of a ladies fan as a
come hither catch-me-if-you-can look enters her eyes.  Looking at the sky
she bugles a challenge, then with a thrust of her powerful hind quarters she
is off like a green rocket roaring skywards.

<Ryath>  Ares is all enthusiasm...but he is a flit...one swoop...and he MISSES!

<Ryath>  Audath launches skyward, right on Ryath's tailtip and trying to
sneak in underneath the blazing green.

<Ryath>  Ares is caught in the undercurrents...like a leaf in a storm...a
bemoaning chittering cry and he falls a bit...he's out of the race and
barely recovering

<Ryath>  Ares hovers now...watching the others rising...poor little guy
chitters sorrowfully as he sulks back towards the ground

<Ryath>  Gameth springs aloft like a blue steel spring, wings snapping open
and pumping for all he's worth. Ahead, a glowing beacon of green... to be
his, yes. The others are but paltry fantasizes.

<Ryath>  Ares circles down...inconsolable little flit.

<Ryath>  From the bowl floor, Ares lands on one of the blooded kills...well
can't catch'em...time to admit he's a tiny little guy...and just...eat.
<Ryath>  Apollo performs loop-de-loops under the fading figures, the dragons
so far ahead that the little 'lizard can't hope to keep up.

<Ryath>  From the bowl floor, Ares munches a bit...he's not hungry
really...he sulks...flitting off

<Ryath>  Sorcereth is last off the ground, but his broad bronzen wings soon
cut the lead his competitors have. His eyes are only for Ryath, as is
anything else she'd care to take a hold of. He's a tail dragon, and if there
was never a lovelier one to be seen... well, wait until the next flight. ;)

<Ryath>  Sot merely maintains his level, chirpling to the other flit.

Rowena feels a rush that lights her face as Ryath takes wing.  Up on her
feet she almost seems to soar herself so closely linked to her lifemate she
feels the wind, the glorious feel of freedom.  Something, perhaps the feel
of eyes on her brings her down and she looks around at the avid faces around
her and ... runs.

M'rika grips the back of a chair, eyes fastened lustfully on Rowena.  Man,
she is gonna hate herself in the morning, regardless of the outcome.

(edits out her run to the ground weyr)
M'rika stumbles after Rowena, her feet beyond her control, as is the rest of
her, "Row..."  she croaks from a dry throat.

Rowena hears Miri and rushes faster, faster, looking for a place, any place
to hide, through the infirmary and right into the ground weyr.

Infirmary
Remarkably clean and crisply white, though the aroma of drying herbs and
redwort stings the eye, a series of cots, their sheets and furs tucked
tight, line the walls on either side of the room. Archways dot the stone
walls, though the largest, the one leading to the Infirmary of the dragons,
is covered by a thick sisal drapery, unlike the solid wooden door at the
'entrance' to the hallway.
At the far end of the room, next to the entrance of the Medicinal Stores, is
the Healer's desk, its surface covered with hides, and bottles whose
contents remain a mystery to the untrained eye. A huge hardwood 'cabinet'
marks the wall behind the desk, each 'drawer' containing a wide assortment
of herbs and elixirs : redwort and numbweed sharing space with featherfern,
hyssop, red willow salic, and hops.
As your eyes scan further along the 'room', you note that each cot has its
own glowbasket, table, and a straight back chair for visitors, as well as a
length of curtain which hangs from the rafters to the floor.  A quiet place,
perfect for those in recovery.
Obvious exits:
Ground Weyr

Though the cavern remains basically nondescript, it still holds simple
familiarity to most occupants. The center of the room is dominated by a deep
wallow in the stone flooring, covered with sweet rushes and quilts marked by
the colors of Healer Hall. Off to the left of the hollow a cot has been
placed for a rider, it's sleeping furs folded neatly at the foot. To the
right, stands a hardwood table covered in medical supplies, a few rolls of
silk lines the wall behind it. Curtains cover the two archways leading out,
though on good weather days they're pulled back to allow for proper
ventilation. Quiet and peaceful, this room provides restful recovery for
rider and dragon alike.

W'ley follows closely, S'ord managing to keep up, tho he stumbled a bit on a
patch of pebbles. Both stop, eyes glazed, fixed, on Rowena, as their
lifemates' are fixed on Ryath.

<Ryath>  Ryath dances through the air, wings catching thermal after thermal
with almost preternatural ease.  A sassy bugle of triumph and joy rings out
over the weyr.  She is fast, fast fast, and none can catch her.

<Ryath>  <<Bahrain>> Like the first blush of dawning sky, Ryath's tone is
full of dew kissed wonder. Ryath thinks, <<I fly!!!!!>>

<Ryath>  Sorcereth fairly lumbers after the green above, compared to the
other suitors. Determination beats in his heart, through his wings. She will
be his.

<Ryath>  Audath follows below Ryath, eyes watching her path, ready to
intercept her when the time is right.  Always the hunter, he marks his
prey's movements without thinking, riding the currents and biding his time.

<Ryath>  Apollo wings under the dragon's shadows, playing in the darkness
and the light.  He chirples softly, once, to Sot in a what-can-you-do voice.

<Ryath>  Sot chirples back, watch?

Rowena turns at bay watching the three.  Feet stumble over the depression in
the floor as she searches first one face then the other wondering, watching,
waiting.  Tongue flicks out and licks dry lips as she attempts to crack
wise.  "Anyone fer dice?"

<Ryath>  <<Bahrain>> Uttering rich baritones mingled with musky scents of
ancient incense, Asarith screams in protest of having to stay grounded and
watch the whole bunch of you flying right over his ledge. But, he promised
and he doesn't break promises...

<Ryath>  Gameth bugles in answer to the challenge, and is up to meet it.
After her lovely green self, the blue zips on after the aerobatics one,
himself well versed in green taunting. But the boy still knows no patience.
Not when he sees what he wants up there.

M'rika whimpers deep in her throat, like a trapped animal, but she can't
bring her feet to leave Rowena's side.

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> The scent of violets mingles with his husky baritone
as Zyelth  soothes Asarith.  <<Too young.  We're too young.>>

W'ley manages a smile. "Dice?" he asks in a tight voice. "What's th'prize?"

<Ryath>  <<Bahrain>> You sense, Audath rumbles in deep russet tones <<It is
not your time young one and she is not yours to be had. yet>>

<Ryath>  <<Bahrain>> Zivath warbles dismissively. << Watch, and learn her
tricks, while you've a clear
head. >> Not that it'll matter much when -she- goes up. Nono. ;)

<Ryath>  Ryath screams challenge.  No time.... no time to comfort the little
one today.  Folding her wings against her body she /plunges/ down, down
down, skimming under her pursuers with a near laugh of triumph.  Too fast
she is, too fast and too agile for any of them.

S'ord is all silence, watching, waiting. A tug brings his jacket off, tossed
dismissively into the corner.

<Ryath>  From the bowl floor, Sabre chirples back, his round little belly
showing that he's had far more than his share of feast this day.. and he'd
likely break his wings trying to fly.  Why fly anyway..? It's so /cold/ up
there.

<Ryath>  Audath checks his speed to avoid overshooting the plummeting green.
He was just a bit too much to the left.  Folding brown wings, he plummets
after the trophy, brown stone falling to the earth.

Rowena's eyes are taking on a sultry hue.  Rich, contralto near slops
contralto syrup over listening ears.  "Well, we'd have ta /see/ wouldn't
we?"  But she knows full well, the luck is in the sky not the dice and the
choice is not hers to make.

<Ryath>  Gameth bellows in outrage. Tricky female! A flapping of blue wings,
and his flight path is reoriented, back on the trail of green beauty
.
M'rika licks her lips, unable to say anything.  Not even her voice is hers
to control.  All she can see is the hazy green of Ryath, or is it lust?  And
she is scared.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth, lower in the skies to see the sudden change in
direction, angles sooner, the zig proving to give him an advantage and he
closes in on Ryath, fingerlength by fingerlength.

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Heady flavorful spices scent the air, tantalizingly
exotic yet as familiar as home, Timoth watches from his higher perch on the
star stones and bugles loudly. He yearns to follow, but will not.....

<Ryath>  Apollo dives, barely missing being run down by pursuing males.
Squawking in affront, he flits off to a safer position.

<Ryath>  Ryath plummets almost to the ground her trill of challenge near
breaking ear drums.  Just as it seems she will crash, wings snap out and she
catches the thermal dead on to rise, rise nearly as fast as she fell.
Twisting she barrel-rolls mid air just to show she can.  Tail waves as if in
sassy invitation and she shoots forward her speed near doubling.

<Ryath>  Gameth dives and twists, surging after the sassy one. Muscles
ripple with the motion, pushing him ahead, closer still, to the emerald wonder.

<Ryath>  Audath casts out brown sails, his huge wings breaking his fall as
quickly as he started it.  Two wingsweeps send him forward on Ryath's tail,
finally bugling his pursuit to the fair lady.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth pumps wings, losing a bit of his edge with the maneuver,
but not put off. Determination whirls in the depths of his eyes. He will
have her.

Rowena licks her lips again, pansy eyes soft and pansy dark with emotion.
Face is mobile, soft, enticing as her voice as she rocks on her two small
feet, arms wrapped around herself as if to hold herself  together.

M'rika looks at Row with desire, but tears trickle down her cheeks.  she is
new territory and doesn't know what to do.

W'ley loosens his shirt collar a bit, watching Rowena. "Be a bit chilly in
here?" he half asks. "I ken warm you up..." Boy, could he. ;)

<Ryath>  Sot chirples a greeting to the Sye-brown. Things are getting
interesting up here. But wings are tiring too.....

M'rika finally manages to look away from Rowena, her eyes on the door as if
hoping someone will enter.  Someone who is in control of his own limbs, maybe?

Chilly?  Rowena finds it hot.  Very hot!  Too hot.  Unwrapping her arms she
pulls at her tunic.  Shells!  Why did she wear so much clothing.

The more to admire as you remove it, m'dear? S'ord takes a step nearer, as
if that would help his flagging bronze catch up to the green temptress.

<Ryath>  Ryath rolls again as she dares another quick look behind her.  Hmmm
someone is getting too close.  Trumpeting she manages to rise a bit higher,
then higher again as she turns near ninety degrees and skims along the side
of the bowl.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth :'s endurance brings him closer, overshadowing some
others who burnt out early. A wily thing, lovely beyond comparison, to twine
with and soar into the sunset of dragon love.

M'rika moves around Rowena cautiously, as if she doesn't trust herself.  she
fingers her own tunic, but doesn't say a word.

Rowena
Heart shaped face dominated by deep lavender eyes is framed by a mass of
tiny, flame kissed curls that now caress shoulders. Shorn as a weyrling, the
titian locks are finally growing back .  Barely topping five feet her
hourglass shape is dusted with peach blush over alabaster skin stretched on
a tiny frame.  Movements match looks, creating a minx in motion and speech.
She is herself, quick of wit and sharp of mind.  Moving incessantly, her
long, slender fingers  call attention to themselves as if itching to be
about some business of their own.
A full riders knot in Bahrain black and red is twined in sensuous pleasure
with a ribbon of Ryath green and perched on one shoulder.
Pale winter sky, overcast with pearly grey, the light cotton fabric is snug
to her chest, long sleeves wrapping silkily along her arms.  V'neck cut
shows pale alabaster below her slender neck.   Atop this Tunic is an airy
overtunic, created in shades of purple, from palest lavender to pure
amethyst to deepest wine, billowing slit sleeves are lashed at wrist with
ebon ribbon, while an extra cuff has been slit into matching ribbon tatters.
Open front meets just below bust, loosely laced, with more silky black
ribbon.  Pinched at waist it's held by a slender hide belt, then widens to
flare into more ribbons over the snug inky hide pants.  Slender ebony boots
are edged & etched with a livid shade of purple that matches the shades in
the overtunic.
She is awake and looks alert.
She appears to be in her early twenties.
Smile touches the edges of her lips, but never her eyes.

 Rowena can't stand the /heat/ in here anymore and pulls overtunic off
leaving the silky undertunic and it's ribbons exposed.  Eyes follow Miri,
wanting to offer comfort, or so her /mind/ says.  Her eyes however say
different as she is locked to the green aerialist and all her feelings.

<Ryath>  Audath bugles in challenge to the new arrival, pushing more effort
into brown wings as he
edges just a bit closer to his glowing green.  Note that his.

M'rika looks up, startled, as another rider enters.  she wrings her hands,
arms tight to her body as she
continues to pace close to Rowena, what little control she has left keeping
her clothes on.

<Ryath>  Gameth's brassy roar echoes off hill and dale at the newest
challenger for the adoration of the lovely green.

<Ryath>  Navonth bugles in response to the challenge, surging forward with
every sweep of his wings.  He may be late, but he's every bit as involved in
catching the glowing green before him.

Rowena looks up as another rider enters. Face would crease into a welcome as
she recognizes her old friend from Fort but... welcome is far from her mind.
Now that overtunic is shed she pulls at the skirt of her outfit yanking it
off in near frenzy.  "So hot in here."  Soft moan bespeaks more than outer
temperature.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth snarls in frustration, and puts more effort into his
flight. Fire burns along every sinew, every corded muscle screaming with the
determined drive that keeps them pumping.

L'gan enters, stripping gloves and cap quickly, hands quickly moving to the
fasteners on his jacket.  He is just able to manage a smile at Ro before his
expression registers the challenge his lifemate receives.  Challenge me? Hah!

M'rika whimpers again, but it drawls into a soft cry as Audath angers at the
new challenges for Ryath.  Her eyes darken and she looks at Rowena possessively.

<Ryath>  Ryath turns mid air and hovers for nearly a full five seconds.  Hmm
another challenger daring to believe he can master this mistress of the
skies.  Challenge is again sounded as she seems to whirl mid air and skim
ahead of her pursuers.  Dash and dip she shows off her aeronautics, her
agility her style in the air.

W'ley flicks a glance at L'gan, snorting. Heh. As if he could rival his
Gameth. S'ord's expression mirrors the same through narrowed gaze, just
knowing his Sorcereth will win the day.

<Ryath>  Audath may not be as agile as the shifty green, but he prides
himself on his hunting skills and Ryath is just another kind of prey.
stealthily, he steals up close to her again, brown sails billowing in the
updraft he has caught.

<Ryath>  Navonth whirls around, turning on a wingtip and taking off again
after his goal.  Powerful wings propel the brown on, closing in.  He eyes
his competition briefly with an almost childlike glee and then focuses in on
Ryath with a fierce determination.

<Ryath>  Audath bugles across the bowl, neck outstretched toward his prize
as brown merges with shadow across the sky.  Brown wings strain to reach
Ryath before the newcomer can make up any more distance.  still a bit below
his focus, he will not be dismissed.

Ryath twists again as she feels males closing the gap.  Twisting she tries
another dive as wings snap against her sides and she once more plummets
groundwards then pulls up short and dashes off in the opposite direction.

M'rika tugs at her own tunic-lacing, throwing a growl at L'gan as she steps
closer to Row, eyes fiercely green-gold in the darkness.

Rowena pulls at her tunic unwilling to take any more off.  Unusual for the
normally uninhibited lass.
Eyes are purple fire over ice as she looks from L'gan to Miri to W'ley to
S'ord.  Shells!  What's a girl to do?

<Ryath>  Audath surges to intercept the greens dive, hunter's instincts
pushing him down in pursuit.  Right wing flares out wide to turn his large
body after the spinning green.  Talons snatch at empty air, just a bit to
late to catch green hide.

L'gan pulls his tunic over his head, briefly wipes the sweat from his eyes
and glares at M'rika. He takes a step closer to Rowena, jaw clenched,
breath coming quickly

<Ryath>  Gameth mimics the dive, a shy bit too late, and is off after Ryath,
rumbling deep in his chest. A crafty creature of glowing green, she is. He
likes them tricky. C'mere, my beauty.

<Ryath>  Sorcereth flaps several times, altering the direction of his
flight. The star of wonder is swiftly pursued by the bronze of amazement.
Come to mine wings, oh lovely one!

<Ryath>  Navonth folds his sails in tight to his body and darts after the
green.  Wings snap out quickly as he closes and he deftly wheels after the
green.  A cunning one she is, much to his delight.

<Ryath>  Ryath feels herself tire and begins to panic.  She is so determined
not to be caught.  Foggy thoughts make wings wobble as she tries another
tight turn bringing... by accident /closer/ to her pursuers instead of
farther away.

M'rika sucks in air in deep quick breaths, eyes glazing over a bit as she
reaches, with Audath, for the glowing green.  Nonsensical syllables rumble
from her throat as she fixes unseeing eyes on Rowena.

Rowena's nerveless fingers pulls at her tunic wanting it off!  Wanting to
run!  Wanting to be free of the furnace of emotions her green rouses in her.
Hot she is so hot!  Licking her lips she closes her eyes barely able to stand.

<Ryath>  Audath tosses wings wide as Ryath turns again, having expected this
from her earlier tricks.  Wingspan at full, he tries to position himself to
'catch' the emerald prize, if he has /his/ way.

<Ryath>  Navonth bugles as the distance closes, she tires!  Eyes whirl in
excitement as wings pump furiously in an effort to catch the elusive green.
Talons flex in anticipation.  Another bugle goes to the other fliers,
warning them off what he sees as his.

<Ryath>  Gameth closes in, very near to Sorcereth as both angle for a chance
to soar with Ryath. But, as
some would say, there can be only one.

<Ryath>  Ryath /feels/ them closing in on her.  Eyes dart around wildly as
they whirl in purple abandon.  Which way?  Which will lead her away from
their talons, their embrace!  Or.... which way will lead her to the right one?

L'gan 's breath comes in deep, heavy breaths.  His eyes locked in
nothingness one moment as he flies with Navonth, then quickly focusing into
an almost deadly gaze at the other riders in the room.  He moves as close to
Rowena as he dares, hands opening in closing.

<Ryath>  Audath puts all he has into a final few wingsweeps, propelling him
toward the tiring Ryath.  Bugle turns to a croon of desire and protection.
What Ryath needs is a good hunter to take care of her, and Audath will...

M'rika grits her teeth, forcing hands to stay at her sides, even as her eyes
probe deeply into Rowena's soul.

<Ryath>  Gameth swoops forward, outstretched to make the embrace that will
warm both dragons in a fiery embrace. Just an 'ittle bit closer, that's all
he needs....

<Ryath>  Sorcereth hisses under his breath as he pulls a little closer.
Shards, but she's difficult to pin. Then again, if she weren't so difficult,
he'd have had her snuggled up against himself in a bronzen embrace.

<Ryath>  Navonth  flies onward toward the green, just a few lengths away.
Eyes whirl madly as he strives to close the gap and bring the green to him.
He bugles to the green.  Come to me, I am here.

Rowena opens those pansy eyes as she licks her lips.  They are so /close/,
both here and in the air.  Looking wildly from face to face she trembles
wondering yearning towards first one then the other.

M'rika holds out a hand toward Row, enticingly, her eyes opening wide as her
body moves on its own.  shards, this is frustrating.  Her fingers twitch
toward Rowena, mouth moving without sound.

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> The scent of violets mingles with his husky baritone
as Zyelth  sighs, <<I want to fly!>>
.
<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Zivath offers, << Flap your wings? >> Oh, you mean
this mating thing? ;)

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Voicing her thoughts with a presence like the rising
sun, Fabrinath glances over to her daughter. <<Precocious aren't they?>>

<Ryath>  Ryath twists as wings falter, her blooded energy near spent.  With
a small trumpet of despair she finds herself caught.  Caught by a pair of
smooth brown wings, and locked, yes, locked to the hunter who promised her
refuge.  Audath!

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Heady flavorful spices scent the air, tantalizingly
exotic yet as familiar as home, Timoth is feeling rather put out. <<Just you
wait til we're older!>>

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Uttering rich baritones mingled with musky scents of
ancient incense, Asarith croons mournfully, though relieved, <<I think it is
too late>>.

<Ryath>  <<BW-lings>> Zivath preens. << Yes, they are. Aren't they
wonderful? Just like Momma! >> Poor Pern.

<Ryath>  Audath trumpets his triumph, holding Ryath tightly as brown wings
hold them both aloft.  Neck snakes gently along emerald green hide in caress.

<Ryath>  Ryath croons her own soft trill of delight as she winds neck with
browns and floats in his taloned embrace.

Rowena's face goes stark white as she looks at Miri.  Shells!  What now?

M'rika reaches out to embrace Row, looking intently into pansy-violet eyes
with intense green ones, face alight in her brown's triumph.

<Ryath>  Gameth pulls away in defeat, his tenor bugle wailing his loss.
Sorcereth pulls up and away in silence, seeing solace elsewhere, to brood
and grump in private.

L'gan looks at Rowena and Miri, crestfallen.  He backs away quietly though,
takes his things, and with one last look over his shoulder, goes out.

(End of Log)