Finneth's Flight

[Xinnai]

It was done without much ado or any prompting. Well-versed by now, the pair moved in tandem, relatively relaxed in this, with the sevenday of advance notice. They'd had turns to do so. Besides, everyone knew that greens were flighty anyhow. They didn't need much prompting to rise. And during the last days, grassy green hide had been set to glowing and the dragon had become the moody female she rarely was.

All signs, for those who knew.

It was just as Rukbat was rising, throwing dark scarlet and gold tongues of flame across the demure Pern that the green hung in the sky, eyes whirling. She gave voice, shattering the early morning silence and hung, suspended, to wait a few moments before taking off. She had little time. And Finneth wanted this to be spectacular.

K'houry was pleased as he sat up in bed, nerves humming slightly. He'd never been able to stop Finneth from rising-it was wrong to do so, no matter his own personal feelings-and he wasn't sure he could stop her. During the intervening six turns from his love's death, the old man had gradually grown relaxed towards this custom. The few times that Finneth rose during the turn were enjoyable, yes, and hardly life-changing. Greens weren't bonded with weyrmates as queens were.

The aging man stood, arms stretching above his head with a pop that followed quickly after. He grinned in grim satisfaction and shook back his greying hair, eyes overbright, much like his dainty little beauty's.

He was sure that this one would be one to go down in their book of greats, with all the emotions that spilled from the both of them. Not like a queen's-Faranth forbid that!-but furious and fast. And sure to be a test towards those who gave chase. Finneth was always fast, no matter her age. Yes, one for the books indeed.

[anhydrous]

Perhaps Daisulyth had been waiting. That would certainly explain how quickly he had answered her call, the harsh bugle ripped from his throat instinctively at the sound of her voice. Perhaps he had even been watching for as long as the past seven-day, his short attention span drawn out by the sight of her steadily gleaming hide.

Regardless, his concentration was narrowed by the beautiful announcement that had been offered up to the Weyr. Finneth’s glowing silhouette was the object of his desire, her body contrasting deliciously against the early morning sky.

I’dalyn’s subconscious noted his dragon’s interest, the sleeping rider doing his best to ignore the nagging prickling deep in his chest. It was all too familiar. By the time he had cracked one eyelid against the encroaching brightness, Daisulyth was slipping from his ledge to meet his lady’s challenge.

Only one concern was important enough to be voiced, that voice rasping aloud languidly. “Who?” The brown winced at his rider’s interest, stretching his claws against the gentle wind as his wide downstrokes warmed his muscles and pulled him closer to his lovely green. I’dalyn closed his eyes and frowned at the tell-tale silence, all too aware what Daisulyth’s reluctance meant. I will chase her,[/color] the brown replied stubbornly, the steady whril of his eyes deepening to a careful lavender. It wouldn’t do to look too excited.

His rider, in contrast, looked anything but excited. His apprehension was staggering. I will never forgive you if you win her, I’dalyn threatened rapidly, his dragon’s unshakeable resolve keeping him on a steady course towards Finneth. You will get over it, the brown replied tersely, And I will win her.[/color] There was no doubt in his mind about that.

I’dalyn drew his blankets up over his head, eyes screwed tightly against the reality of the situation. His bruises were finally fading, the purple around his left eye reduced to the slightest tender discoloration. K’houry seemed the kind of man who would punch him if he found him in his bed. I’dalyn had already been punched for less serious offenses.

With a furrow in his brow so deep it looked painful, one thought flashed sarcastically in I'dalyn's mind.
Spectacular.

[Invisible]

It was the proclamation by Finneth that awoke Mallarth from his slumber. The blue stretched himself out on his ledge before lifting his head to try to spy the green as well as those who were already chasing her. His interest roused his rider who was nursing a hangover from too much celebration the night before. K’tel groaned at being woken up before realizing the reason why. He rolled over and nudged the man sleeping next to him before crawling out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told the sleepy man as he swaggered towards his clothes. “I'll be back eventually.”

As his rider stumbled into something clean within the weyr outside Mallarth announced his intent with a bugle of his own. Launching himself in the air he didn’t bother wasting words to his rider. K’tel was not important at this juncture. What was important would be the green hide in the distance. Not distant for long. Mallarth was old enough to know how this was done and was set to pull out all his tricks to win. He noticed Daisulyth in the air as well but did not consider him a threat. The brown was bigger, but Mallarth was smarter. He was quite sure of that.

[Xinnai]

Cerarth took to the sky, having come into instant wakefulness at a siren call. His blue hide flashed a delicate tidal color as he rose higher in altitude, making for the green that hung so tauntingly close by. He was excited, antsy, and it reflected as he worked off his nerves, completing a loop in midair. He and his rider H'lef had graduated from the last clutch of weyrlings and were still new to the whole game of things.

The blue made his way over, eyeing the other contenders naively. He could tell skills nor prowess. He just knew that the only brown looked big and the other blue looked smug. He thought he had a chance here.

It was as the latest addition reached within a few dozen feet of her that Finneth was off, rocketing forward and up, leading them on chase, one she knew she'd win no matter the odds. She was female, so of course she would. As she darted up she suddenly dropped down, spinning spectacularly to the side and veering off to the right, sprinting through the air.

She sent a challenging look at those males who tried for her and poured on more speed, wings working fast. She only had so much time to her. She intended to make it last. She was no gold, with eons of stamina. She was just a green and a small one at that.

But even in her rather advanced age, Finneth still had spectacular moves. And she intended to show those males just who they were dealing with.

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth rumbled his approval at Finneth’s quick start, his eyes following her upwards as his wings effortlessly carried him in a similar direction. His voice was offered mostly so that she might recognize it, perhaps setting him apart from the other males who were trying to vie for her attentions. Daisulyth paid them little mind, his gaze for Finneth and her alone.

She wouldn’t follow her upwards path for long and he knew it. As if on cue she spun out of her climb, dropping and rolling through the air as only a green could do. Golds and greens were as different as night and day. The littler females didn’t want to last, they wanted to fly; they knew that getting there was half the fun. Daisulyth could certainly appreciate that.

By the time he dipped to spin off in pursuit his entire body was humming in anticipation. The tense vibration had welled from deep within his chest, saturating every muscle so that they might be ready for Finneth’s aerial stunts. His vibrant stare followed her dance across the sky, a violent whirl of violets catching in each facet of his hungry eyes.

Although Daisulyth wasn’t nimble enough to match the green’s flips perfectly, every moment she spent flying would allow him to draw the slightest bit nearer. The blues darted around him easily while Finneth spun, but every wingbeat that sent her upwards was far exceeded by Daisulyth’s own. Each twist and daring glare she sent them only encouraged his want –no, his need, to make her his own.

Regardless of the urgency his body felt, Daisulyth kept himself at a patient distance. He was careful not to constrict his lady. She would not take kindly to an over-eager suitor cramping her airspace, not yet anyway.

[Omnia Munda]

D'nor and Les had just been relieved from watch up on the bowl's rim, and it was with a sour stare that the old bluerider watched as a green took flight, rising up from the bowl below. His beast was known for his tenacity, not his restraint. D'nor was hardly surprised that the creature catapulted from the stone without so much as a by-your-leave as soon as the final salutes of the ritual change of post was done.

That left D'nor standing beside the elderly bronzerider and his equally elderly bronze amongst the long morning shadows of the rocks, watching as the flight warmed up the morning.

"He's still got it in him," remarked K'lennet, to a grunt from D'nor. Couldn't say the same for you, the bluerider groused, and let a thumb into his belt so the casual fall of his fingers shielded the fly of his trousers.

There were too many other blues joining the flight already, and as he descended to meet the fray Lesmajath sent out his absolute ill will toward them all as a warning, heralding his arrival as surely as any bronze's trumpet could. There was abject hatred in the touch of his embittered mind, twisted loathing for any male that dared to take to the sky after his green.

And they were all his greens.

Lesmajath knew this one no better or worse than the others. If he'd ever won her the memory had long since slipped his mind, but the desire to win her this time was as sharp and keen as if she were on his ledge every day, as if she were his rider's lover's mount and therefore designed to be his as well. As the whippy midnight blue slid into the assortment of dragons already on the wing, he gave up his rage to sing instead. His song's wordless notes conveyed the delight he'd have in her and the thrill she'd have from him when their tails twined.

It was a song well enough made for any green, but this morning his music was for Finneth.

[Invisible]

The other blues in the air were of no concern to Mallarth. The brown was certainly of no concern to Mallarth. What was his concern was Finneth. The green was a tantalizing sight when she took off. Her moves were intoxicating and Mallarth fell behind a moment as he admired the way she danced in the air. What a dance it was too and it was the thought of the end of that dance that got Mallarth moving again.

He stayed out of the way of the others, not interested in getting involved in a fight. Mallarth was a lover, not a fighter which meant he wouldn’t risk an entanglement. Not with anyone but Finneth. Older and younger dragons competed for the lady’s affection, but it was this blue who would win her. None of the others would be able to match her. He could match her, but it might tire him out. So, he let her wear herself out and just did what he needed to do in order to be sure that when it was over he was where they would both want him to be.

[Xinnai]

Their songs were enticing, but not enough incentive for her to slow or stop. Dainty as ever, Finneth danced through the air, plunging up and down in her flight and twisting to left or right, leading them on this chase, demanding they keep up.

She had more contenders now and it was a vicious pleasure she felt. Now, ranged behind her were three blues and one brown. Oh yes, that knowledge was delicious. She gave out another sharp call, daring them to try and catch her as wings folded in to execute the dive bomb. Finneth may have been old, but she was by no means feeble.

She let out another delighted cry, wings snapping open as she hung on to the current. She was flung away from them, feeling rapture in the speed even as she felt strength and energy slowly leaking from her. She exited out of the current in a tight roll, throwing herself higher and to the right. She dared them to come after with one wild-eyed, coy glance over glowing green shoulder.

Cerarth was slower than the others and not as smart. Not by a long shot. He just followed the others, wanting the siren green they all chased, but knowing, even then, that he hadn't a chance. The chase was enough though.

He began to hum his song, ignoring the others, even the blue that decided to be so decidedly nasty. He just began to hum, wheeling and rolling and following with the others, hoping it could be enough to catch that elusive and wiley female and knowing he would not come close.

She was glorious, she was witty and beautiful and gorgeous. She was all of theirs and none of theirs. He wanted to be hers, just as he knew every other dragon in the air with him did. And who would, who would?

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth watched his little beauty twist through the sky, his eyes drawn to her every gleaming curve. He saw no age on her lithe frame, no scars or scratches marring her hide. She was perfect. Her demands were eagerly met by the spread of followers, each spry glance she gifted to them renewing their determination.

With limbs drawn close to increase his speed, the brown thrummed his own particular temptation to his clever little Finneth. It was low and deep, cutting through the lofty songs of his competitors as a seductive undertone. As she twisted his voice followed her, a pleasant suggestion meant to remind her that he was there.

Arching through the sky in pursuit, each dive and turn only fueled his need of her. He did not grow tired, only more anxious to be twined with her. Slowing in his frantic chase, Daisulyth took in the scene and watched his Finneth with a hungry calculating stare. He dipped ever so slightly as his beauty’s wings snapped in towards her body, the green plummeting as she trumpeted daringly. She wouldn’t be caught down there.

Anticipating her rise, the brown hung back, using his energy to keep his body above her path. Finneth twisted and rose towards him, and Daisulyth shot after her. His quick wingbeats matched hers deftly, muscles tensing at the green’s proximity. He savored the sight of her. She was just out of reach, ever so slightly below him. He could have taken her, but he didn’t dare. Not yet. She would grow tired soon, her twisting and turning beginning to loose its fun. Why shorten the ride?

As she spun out of the thermal they had been sharing, Daisulyth followed obediently. When she decided that she needed it, the brown would be there to carry her home.

I’dalyn had been watching from his weyr, trying to clear his head of Daisulyth’s cluttering emotions. The experience was overwhelming, just as it always was. He found himself swept up in the whirl of rushing wings and tempting dives, his labored footsteps carrying him away from the safety of his own quarters.

Unconsciously he trekked through the corridors, his sight lost to his dragon high above the bowl. Had he his wits about him, I'dalyn would have chained himself to his bedposts to avoid such wanderings. Quiet unaware of his own upward spiral, I'dalyn unknowingly seeked out the object of his dragon's affections.

[Invisible]

They wasted their breath is what they did. Mallarth was usually one for talking and would talk an ear off, but when there was work to be done he was silence itself. There was no need to try to lure the green to him. There was no need to sound better than the others. He was better than the others and it would show when things ended and he was the victor. Finneth herself did not matter any more or less than any other green. They were prizes to claim and nothing else.

She would not escape and Mallarth would not let any of the others win her. No, she was meant to be his he was sure of it. He turned in a tight circle to bring himself closer towards his prize. Close enough to one of the other chasers to nearly brush his wing against the other. Close, but not close enough to cause an accident. His sharp intent showed itself in nearly lazy movements. Fast as he was he always seemed to be taking it easy. When she would make a sharp dive he would take his time and when she climbed he followed steadily.

While Mallarth chased K’tel walked. He had not even bothered with his boots. There would be no need for this walk. Arrogant in his steps he no more hurried than did his blue. He felt the same smug surety of his dragon that things would end to their favor. How could it not? K’tel knew he was desired by many even without the help of flight emotions. In his mind he was already making apologies to the man he’d left in his bed. He would just have to wait a little longer.

[Omnia Munda]

Lesmajath had only just slowed his descent to join the upward soar of the glowing green's fair when she made herself sleek and dipped abruptly back toward Pern.

"Too soon," said D'nor up on the ridge. Though he was speaking to his dragon, K'lennet took it as a conversational invitation and replied, "It's a ruse."

The sinuous midnight blue was experienced enough to know it, or embittered enough to assume it. Either way he was not fooled, and did nothing to trouble himself to follow Finneth downward; instead he let his tongue out from between wicked teeth and tasted the air. A current. He savored it.

No sooner had Lesmajath recognized the current than the rapture-stricken green was flung out upon its embrace. He sang again, the notes requiring no part of his throat to create: they were made of his mind, sinuous as his tail and serpentine as his neck. With his wings slicked back coy against his flanks he fell, caught the current and went flying. It brought him little closer to the wild-eyed green, but he answered her beckoning with the whisper of his song like a stalker's sudden murmur in his lady's ear: a violation. Later he'd say she asked for it.

As Les snapped his wings back out, sails gathering and pouring out cupful after cupful of sky to speed him ever faster toward his intended, D'nor above ran a hand across his face. "Better take me down," he muttered, and this time he was speaking to K'lennet.

Moments later the elderly bronze was coming to a creaky landing upon Finneth's ledge. "Best to go straight to the source," K'lennet had remarked, making D'nor - who was himself not young, but half the older man's age - wince at the very idea. He thanked his ride, leapt down to the stone and started toward the weyr, grateful as he strode that the bronzerider was on watch, and his beast evidently uninterested in the goings-on.

[Xinnai]

Some gained on her and it was a displeasing thought. They were bigger, they could hold out longer but she would not let them be faster. She ruled here, in the lightening sky as green hide flashed within the cian sky and wings grabbed at air to fuel her farther and farther in this desperate and enjoyable race.

Finneth wanted to lose them, wanted to lose them and now. She flipped to the right, wings slicing through the warming air and then she dove once more, wings folded tight to her body as she was buffeted slightly by the currents that existed in her domain, spinning her into a circle before she flew once more, wings snapping out and lifting her several feet upwards.

She cackled with her laughter and twisted up and away, backwards, towards their leaving point. A sly tail flip seemed to taunt them before she was sprinting upward, into light clouds that had accumulated during the night and were being burned off by Rukbat's ceaseless rays. The cold condensation hid her for now and she climbed higher, higher.

She peeled off then, away from the Weyr, away from any sort of sanity. She wanted to go faster, faster and faster still. She wanted to truly fly and see who could, if any of those males could, keep up with her. Wings pumped, propelling her through the air and she felt her own personal slipstream as she urged herself for more and more.



Cerarth had been lost after Finneth peeled herself away from the air current. With a small cry, the young blue tore himself out from the flight to spiral back, desolate, to the weyr. When he landed on his ledge, his rider tore out to hug him and console them both.

They had wanted and had failed. But all was well, all was well. They had each other, rider and dragon, companionably joined, as they walked back into their quarters.



K'houry waited in his own quarters, mind fixed with his green beauty's as she led those male suitors on. A fierce smile lit his face as he slowly sat back to his bed, sinking within the furs he had amassed. She'd been long due for glory such as this.

The old greenrider folded in on himself, wrapping arms about his knees and hugging them to his chest. Excitement was boundless, his own and Finneth's, joining together and twining to become one creature. It was this, this sort of breathless rapture that kept his mind from his former love. It was what he lived for.

[anhydrous]

I’dalyn pushed open the door to K’houry’s weyr roughly, the heavy fall of his boots growing more labored by the step. Usually he managed to keep sane some part of himself up until the very end, but this flight was different. No part of his conscious mind remained now. Daisulyth’s emotions far surpassed I’dalyn’s own, his mind leeching onto the cunning games that Finneth so loved to play.

Some part of the brown’s otherwise forgetful mind had caught hold of an elusive memory, the soft touch of the green’s jaw to his…

Daisulyth watched her twisting and diving with possessive eyes, as if she were dancing across the sky for him and him alone. As she angled upward with an uncanny burst of speed, the brown resolutely shot after her with wings furled to their full extent. Every ounce of his strength pushed him toward his elusive green, the chase breaking out above a bank of clouds where the air got thin. Surely she would tire soon, her flight already pushing the boundaries of a common green’s.

But Finneth was no common green. She was enrapt with chasing oblivion, her suitors ignored as she struggled higher and higher. Daisulyth knew nothing of what was happening around him, only that his cunning Finneth was bound and determined to kiss the impossible. The brown knew little of such a need, only that he would make the green his.

His sails far outreached any of the other suitors, and with each powerful downstroke he made that advantage painfully apparent. He threw the air out of his way doggedly, displacing the sky itself to gain ground on his lovely Finneth. Closer with each passing second, he was following less than a dragonlength away, every sly twitch of her tail further enforcing his iron will. He would have her.

[Invisible]

Mallarth knew only one thing and that was that the green must be his. Unaware of what thoughts went through the competition’s minds he focused on the task at hand. He would win Finneth or…well, not die trying because there would always be another green, but surely he would make someone suffer if he did not win. Because winning was everything and how could Mallarth not be a winner? It’s possible, had Mallarth known the connection between the brown and green that he might not have tried so hard. He might not have put so much into winning if he’d known his chances may be slimmer than he’d like. But he didn’t know and no big clumsy brown was going to steal his green. He would fly rings around that lousy brown!

The pale blue tried to anticipate the green’s next move. It would do him no good to hang back if he was too far back when the time came. Soon Finneth would have to come down. She could not go so high unless she were near the end. Mallarth could go up as well or he could wait. Or…he could go somewhere in the middle. Daisulyth had staked his claim and laid in his course, but Mallarth didn’t think that was the end of it. Instead he played with the currents under the green. When she moved down he would be ready to swoop in. It was a good plan, he’d used it before, and he expected to win with this strategy again.

On the ground K’tel wound his way towards where K’houry was waiting. Waiting for him even if he didn’t know it yet. Soon enough he would know. I’dalyn may have beat him to the weyr but that meant nothing. He was here now and he sauntered in as if it were his place. The other riders were not given but a moment’s glance. None but the greenrider mattered to him now. The part of his mind that was detached, however slightly, from the flight noticed I’dalyn and caused him to smirk. Wouldn’t that make for some interesting times? But only if he won and that wasn’t possible now was it? Mallarth would take what was his and K’tel would enjoy what was his. Before leaving the old man to return to the younger one waiting for him.

[Omnia Munda]

That she spun up and away from them, twisting out of reach, taunted and teased them - these things did not trouble Lesmajath in the least. He was accustomed to the ways of greens. Each one was the most flirty, the most clever, the most coy. Each one was as fast as a whip and agile as an acrobat, and the wicked thin blue never begrudged them their self-satisfaction.

But where was his satisfaction? Finneth hadn't the decency even to reply his music. As he twisted and turned, wings pumping and coasting by turns to hold back some of his strength for the inevitable moment when her strength failed, Lesmajath let his song fade away.

D'nor came to lean in the ledgeside entryway of K'houry's weyr. Across the space he could see the inward door open and the brownrider enter through it. Weyrlingmaster's son, he thought instantly, if a little foggily, and after a moment of staggering realization corrected himself, Weyrlingmaster.

He'd be no challenge, thought D'nor. Wouldn't want to be addlebrained in front of his littles. At least I'den would've seen it that way. The whippy blue's rider ran a hand over his face again: he didn't dare make such assumptions of the boy.

Instead he shoved himself off of the wall and prowled on in, traveling gaze finding in time the knees-to-chest shape of the greenrider sunken in his furs. For a split second D'nor was handsome, his mouth a glory of white teeth bright between grinning lips, his dark eyes wicked and brilliant. D'nor was imagining success. There was no need to bother hanging his hand over his trousers, now.

The middle-aged bluerider licked hungry lips, and became unlovely again.

His dragon was meanwhile replacing his song with something else, something inspired by his rider's graphic thoughts. He had no words to offer the fleeting and brilliant Finneth, but he had this: the promise of the ecstasy of their twining, each tangling of wings and each wicked scratch of claws on hide a tingling delight. Lesmajath was done with subtle seduction.