Legendary - Archith's Flight [E]

[Kaya]

74.06.11 | Sundown | Weyrwoman’s weyr / Feeding Grounds / Skies

It would start as the day reached its end. The sun was already below the ridge on the west side of the Weyr, its last light coloring the sky brilliant oranges with dark shadows on the spreading clouds. The cool breeze in from the salty bay picked up in the late afternoon and then slowed as night grew near. A pair of teal blue eyes scanned the orange skies, waiting. The woman that belonged to them, she knew; knew it would be that day. She had done all she could to satisfy herself. Gone out, talked to them, made nice and tried to make a few friends. Weyrlife…this part of it still set strangely into her Holdbred idea of life. Maybe Turns later it wouldn’t seem so strange.

The much awaited start slept in the Golden dragon. Her hide shone and blazed in the setting sun’s light. Even the smallest fleck of light was enough to set the gold in her hide to molten metal, its colors flowing as her sides moved to the breathing of sleep. But not for much longer. She knew.

They all knew.

She began to hate the waiting. She was ready to handle this, no matter how the mysterious he acted. She could adapt, make her situation better, or keep whatever the result maintained, but first…it had to happen. And so she had to wait, and Rilora hated the waiting.

Her thoughts drifted between Weyr and Hold, the orange in the sky and her troubles on the ground. There was nothing like waiting to put life’s mysteries at the front of the mind, to have life and every one of its facets questioned. To wonder, even, if she ought to-

Overwhelming hunger. Swirls of red. Two wills, to clash and then align into one ferocious Queen. Archith was quieter, stalked a herdbeast tens of feet from where she had awoken in the fields. She had chosen to sleep there for a reason. She knew. She pounced upon the beast and it struggled to get away. She tried not to let the raw pleasure of power get to her Rider, but Flights were unbridled. They knew each other, were soon to be the same mind. Her plan to sneak food past Rilora did not work. The great Queen lashed at the herdbeast in frustration, watching the red blood soak into the ground instead of going to her. Conflicting actions. The Gold froze there, staring at the dying creature. The dragon wanted to snap it up, the human insisted they not. The stood in silent impasse, wills battling. So hungry… Archith couldn’t take it any longer. She gave up into Rilora’s mind, and feeling so the Rider gave up into Archith. The herdbeast was blooded, and Archith-Rilora entered the world once more. Should she trick them? Wait until she had had her choice of beasts and then race into the sky? Would they even come? Would they even notice? She was so crafty.

Two herdbeasts down, and a third in her claws. This would be the last one. Could she hold back a roar? Her head darted around, scanning the field, the skies. She threw the herdbeast aside. This was it. She was done on the ground and longing for the sky. There was none to challenge her, none to oppose her except the very world itself. But she would defy even that. She would fly to the edge of the world and leave its tyranny behind. She would prove her title of Queen and earn the new one of legendary.

Plans laid and sky waiting, Archith-Rilora gave way to the fickle plans of time. She was done waiting. A roar ripped open the sky, lightning striking the ears of all the Weyr. Its thunder boomed and resounded off the valley walls. As the strike’s afterglow faded, so the image of the Gold once in a field disappeared in an instant. She was in the sky now, climbing, and she would never need stop. Archith, they would whisper her powerful name in awe. Archith, the Queen who took the skies and never came back.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

Ancalanath had been laying awake, sprawled on the ledge outside his weyr. Something was going to happen, he knew it, knew with some powerful instinct that soon the Golden Queen of his allegiance and heart would fly, calling him (and to be fair, every other King nearby) after her. Those others would not have a chance though, not this time. This time, he was determined to win. This time he would have victory.

He lay with a stillness that a cat at a mouse-hole would have envied, the very tip of his tail twitching, the fork shifting ever so slightly, but that was all. It was a bad idea to waste even the tiniest drop of energy before beginning such a pursuit.

His rider was lounging in the only chair, watching him with one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked in a slightly lopsided smile. Ancalanath ignored him. The RR Flame ignored also the three flitts that had settled on the side of the cot watching his rider. Today, all things but one where not worthy of attention, and that one… Soon, soon the Golden Queen, Archith who held his heart, would fly.

A roar split the air, and Ancalanath sprang up, wings out and powerfully propelling him forward. Forward, and after Archith. This time, for victory. The sky had always been his favorite place, now, it was time to put that to the test. To demonstrate to the Golden Queen whose hide shone like the sun that he, Ancalanath, was the most able of her Kings, the one worthy of her. Cleverness had to count, and so did agility in the air, and those he had in good measure.

Bugling his acceptance of Archith’s challenge, Anclanath soared up into the sky, eyes, heart, and mind focused on the beautiful Gold in front of him. He glanced around for challengers, but none yet had arrived. He bugled again. He was first, first to join the pursuit of Archith, the Queen whose Golden hide shamed the sun.

Would not she admire the Flames of his hide? Fire gave heat too, even as did the sun.

“Well, I guess this is it then,” T’kar commented to himself, racing down the corridors towards the Weyrwoman's quarters. His mind was already half lost in Ancalanath’s thoughts, though he could still recall having carried a kitten down these corridors not that long ago, so that it took no small amount of concentration to arrive unscathed from knocking into things. Not that he’d actually knocked into things, but there had been a near miss or two.

“Rilora?” he queried, looking around smoothly before leaning against the wall near the entrance. First rule, which he'd learned a long time ago, never crowd.

[Shoki]

R'le was drawing a map. He had been out flying with Quiorith all day, yet again. However it was the time of day he had to himself so he was making a map. He had some of the beaches around the jungle done, like where he had found the flitter clutch, and was proceeding from there. Maybe he could get this done quick and then go hang out with friends. He had to finish first. He was going out from the beaches, to different clearings he knew. Some were visible from the air, some were not. He carefully drew them all, making sure he didn't miss anything.

A Flame firelizard watched him work, observing him closely. He had been chewing on his sleeve earlier, but now he was content with some meat scrapes he had been given. The flitter persistently followed R'le around and would nibble on some part of him or his clothing when he wanted something. R'le had called him Burn for all that. The flame and ash flitter was actually not very mischievous, so he didn't poke at the ink or anything. Only watched while R'le worked.

Quiorith wasn't watching. He was enjoying the late day sun. Or rather what was left of it. Oh well, he had to try. The Cloud was enjoying the sunset anyway, peering at it with one open eye. It was nice to relax. He continued to do so even as R'le's mood shifted.

R'le put down his writing implement and crossed his arms. Weird, he felt like he was forgetting something. The days all seemed to blend together sometimes so he often lost track of appointments. Maybe he had one tonight that he forgot. He leaned back in his chair as he thought about it, entirely confused. Was it something about a party? No, he didn't think so. Maybe he was having dinner with a friend. He brought up some names but none fit. What on earth could it be?

A roar pierced the air.

Oh. That.

Quiorith's head snapped up, and R'le groaned. No. No, no, no. The rider was useless to prevent it as the Cloud's wings opened and tested the air. Come on, he couldn't really think he had a chance? Quiorith's eyes whirled with exhilaration, rapidly becoming a ball of emotion, and taking to the skies. They were so very much alike, so the Cloud's emotions caught him up and tossed him around like a strong wind, on which he was merely a piece of parchment. So he got up and started walking, a grumpy look and shuffling feet giving him a different look then he usually had. He had thought again as he usually did, Quiorith was too much about the chase, about being in the sky to win a dragoness. So R'le was not looking forward to the Cloud sulking later.

Quiorith had no such misgivings. Oh the glorious Queen. He would follow her as far as she went. He could follow that glowing golden hide far into the night, since she made a lovely sun to keep the dark away. He could do it. The Cloud flew after the Gold, a Flame already in pursuit. He was never very flashy a dragon. But he would fly!

[Terayne]

The setting of the sun's brilliance came alongside a feeling of anticipation. As all good members of his gender, he KNEW what was going to happen, could feel it deep in his draconic heart and soul. His hide gleamed and shone, so dark a bronze as to be nearly black, and his claws and wing-claws actually WERE of that dark hue, showing as he shifted restlessly on his ledge, flexing powerful wings and just waiting. He didn't know WHERE his Queen was, but he knew she was near, had not left the Weyr itself, a good thing, for he did not wish to have to go through the shadows of between merely to reach her. That could end very badly.

He was a slightly older member of his hue, with a good twenty Turns under his metaphorical belt, but he was wise and crafty for all that, and a capable leader when things were said and done. He certainly led his Wing well enough after all. He was still shifting, and his restlessness was getting to his rider, who was attempting to work his wiles on a piece of wood, but failing miserably due to his dragon's distraction.

Sith, would you quit it?! he finally snapped, and the Bronze snorted at him, then promptly ignored him. Rolling green eyes, the blond rose and strode from his borrowed weyr(he was only visiting his greenrider sister after all) to glare at the handsome beast, who turned his head slightly, eyes flashing red, orange and tinged with violet. "Oh you are not-"

The roar split the air and Sith was gone, leaving his rider cursing fervently as he raced for where he knew the Weyrwoman's Weyr was supposed to be. Q'rin was not a slow man by any means, and he reached it just as his Bronze reached the grounds where Archith was already taking to the sky, the near black Bronze following her up swiftly.

She was beautiful, the most gorgeous thing the King had ever seen, with her glowing golden hide, long, graceful wings, and other such loveliness. His dark hide would be a perfect backdrop to display her brilliance, this he knew, whereas that flashy Flame was likely to outshine her! One did NOT outshine their Queen! It was sacrilege! Snorting softly, Sith tore after her, powerful wings beating the air swiftly and surely. Despite likely being older than the Flame, or the silly Cloud(who he could see out of the corner of one whirling violet eye) he did not intend to fall victim to exhaustion. He was Sith, a Bronze King, and more than worthy candidate to be mated to such a stunning example of a Gold!

[Moo]

Mosiliath’s eye cracked open at the sound of the roar. The time had come at last. Lifting his head, he turned and looked back at the bed his Rider was currently attempting to sleep in.

Archith rises now, D’gan.

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and his heart pounded all the harder as he said it. The last time he had considered Archith in any sort of way was when they had first arrived at the Weyr, nearly interrupting her first Hatching with a flashy introduction. Had it really been so long since?

Rolling around to a sitting position, the blanket falling down from his bare chest, D’gan stared off into space, his thoughts a mess. They had been expecting Archith to Rise again for quite some time, everyone had – but now that it was here, it all felt much too soon. He leaned forward, buried his face in his hands, and sighed.

“If you want, you can Chase her…But I won’t be attending in the Weyrwoman’s quarters. Find someone else.”

Swinging his head around at the sound of the second roar – Ancalanath’s acceptance of her challenge – Mosiliath squirmed on his stony seat in their weyr. There was no denying the fact that a union between him and that gorgeous, golden Queen would produce a great number of dragons. His eyes swirled with blues and greens at the thought of more hatchlings. But…

It is too late to find someone else. It is your duty to attend, D’gan.

“I just can’t. It’s risking too much and I’ve already made one mistake.” He looked up, nose wrinkling at the very thought of more children. “I can’t afford another.”

Can’t afford another…or choose not to because you’re afraid?

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t take that tone with me, Mosiliath.”

Your hostility proves otherwise. His tail thumped on the hard ground. Though if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was disgust in your voice, not fear. What has happened to you? Have you avoided having children so long you’ve started to grow cynical?

With a scowl, D’gan threw back the blanket and strode over to the Tiger’s side. “That’s not the reason and you know it. I didn’t think I would have to argue this point with you, out of everyone.”

I said if, didn’t I? I know you don’t want to be a burden, but in all reality, Yuki will keep the child and you will be the father. Mosiliath’s voice softened as he watched the sunset. Sometimes his Rider was just so pigheaded! He tried again. You are your father’s son, not your father himself.

Running a hand through his hair, D’gan sighed and leaned against a wall. “What's the difference? I just don’t feel ready for it. I don't want another child if I have to have this one. It's too much...too restricting. I won't be a good parent.”

Mosiliath groaned. But you always say that. His tail twitched in anticipation, eyes tinted indigo and orange. He had heard this excuse often enough -- and he was sure it was an excuse -- but now it just got on his nerves. This was not about D'gan, it was about him. He didn't have to fly! What was the big deal, really? He had plenty of hatchlings and they were turning out fine.

“Look what happened the last time you flew.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat. What happened between you and Yuki is not my fault, so don't make it seem like I am the cause of your misfortune! I think you will make a great father, but you don't even want to consider the possibility!

For a moment, he could see his Rider's eyes shine with the fear of responsibility. It was one thing to be a Wing leader, and it was another entirely to watch a child -- your child -- grow up beside you. But it was all over in a second when D'gan crossed his arms and walked back to his room, shouting over his shoulder, "Fine, go on and chase her! And while you're at it, take Yuki between and get rid of the child yourself!"

Oh, you are impossible!

Mosiliath crawled out of their weyr and launched into the skies with a snarl. His only objective now was to get to the Fire Heights and away from his weyrling of a Rider. Maybe he would visit Ayleneth. He had been meaning to spend time with her for a while now, and he certainly needed to focus on something else.

Another roar – another suitor. Mosiliath craned his neck up as the dark Bronze sped after Archith. Ah, so now Sith was giving chase. He counted three: Ancalanath, Quiorith, Sith…Oh, it would be rude not to Chase that immaculate, molten Queen. Right? He hesitated for a moment…and bellowed his acceptance of her challenge, changing directions in mid-flight.

D’gan could deal with his own problems.

[Kaya]

First a Flame found her. A dragon suitable enough (but did she like enough?) but he or any other looking to catch her would have to prove his worth. She would test them. She flew higher, wings filled with strength and strain. She heard more roars join, dragons announcing their suit. She turned to see an unfamiliar Bronze and a Cloud she knew in the sky behind her, so far behind, she chuckled to herself. As if any could ever match her skill, her grace matched in even measures with power. The very thought tickled her and she routed the amusement into more energy to challenge them. Ha. Silly males.

Speaking of, her whirling eyes caught sight of her Tiger (they were all hers) flying the wrong way. Deeply affronted, Archith felt her grumble build up, like distant thunder growing nearer. How dare-!

The serve and bellow. He was submitted to fate, just as the rest of them, as it should be. It was theirs to fly and soar, to lead and chase, to challenge and pursue. The storm of a Gold felt her thunder fade, and the true lightning of her voice erupted again and broke the sky, shattering her past and future. All they needed was the urgent now.

Displeased at the absence of one of her suitors (the red one, she huffed) she took that too and used it as fuel. The red of anger, the herdbeasts, of Flight, she channeled them all. She would not let her wings, the very instruments that gave her escape of the world, weigh her down.

She looked to see the orange and reddening, still darkening sky. Above the valley she could see the tip of the glowing ball, its fight to leave the sky almost done. She would surpass it. She would fly and never return. She was greater even than it, for though it was a thing of awe, its purpose was to illuminate her, to support her and her Weyr, to make glorious what already inspired awe in the spirits of all. Perhaps it returned, its power to leave diminished, by her will and her kind's greatness. What else than a dragon could captivate such a thing?

She glanced back to see her suitors. They were gaining but below her, and she grinned. Let them think they could catch her. She did like to taunt them. She bugled to the males behind her and blanked ninety degrees to see them even better. She was watching. What would they do?

-----

Archith-Rilora...she was that, but in the short moments, she could see a room, and others gathering. One spoke, but she couldn't make out what he said. She looked a moment, then went back to staring at the wall. This place was dull, lightless, and bleak compared to the sky and the rush above. She wanted to go back, so she stared at the wall and went slack, and the oranges and darkening mountains dark against the sky returned. For one moment anchored, and another moment free.

[Moo]

Mosiliath beat back the air with his wings and looked up at Archith as she spun around, and he squinted from the glaring combination of her shining hide and the light of the dying sun. His eyes spun with colors almost as bright and flashy as Ancalanath’s hide at the sound of Archith’s taunting bugle. She had declared her intent, and he could do no more but answer her call, his deep, gravelly roar rising up from the depths of his chest and lungs.

He knew what would happen next. He had seen it many times.

Like all the Queens before her, and all the Queens that would ever be, Archith desired height above all else, and it appeared she would sooner die reaching her limits than settling for less. She deserved nothing but the utmost dedication – anything less would be nothing short of insulting, and he did not intend to insult her with indifference.

Drawing down the sky with long, sweeping motions of his wings, Mosiliath undulated in the air and began his ascent. There was nothing to do now but climb, and climb, and climb.

No place to go but up.

Taking in great lungfuls of air, he prepared himself to fly on through the night. He faltered only once when he stretched, the edges of the scar tissue on his right wing cold and straining from an improper warm-up. Grinding his teeth with a snort, eyes spinning an angry orange, Mosiliath continued to rise higher in the air and ignored the cramping in his wing. He had the other younger, fit suitors to worry about.

There was no time for recovery, and if Archith could push herself to the utmost limits of her endurance, then he would do her one better and fly until he fell from the sky.

[Terayne]

Sith bellowed in response to her roar, his dark hide glinting only briefly before he seemed to start vanishing into the darkness, his whirling eyes the only things visible, red, orange, yellow and lustful violet, the sound of his wings thunder in the night. His shape was the only thing visible, and even then, only faintly, such was his darkness. Growling softly under his breath, he watched as the molten Gold rose into the night, and followed her and the Tiger upwards, angling to just follow for now, not seeking to impress. With his shadowed frame, the beautiful Queen would likely not see him anyways.

Mentally frowning, the Bronze darted upwards further, closer to the waiting Queen. Yes, he was dark, and that gave him an extreme disadvantage in the darkening sky, for it made it hard for her to see any efforts he might make to impress her. See was the key word there, the King thought, and rumbled softly under his breath, then crooned softly to her, urging her to test them as far as she would. He, Sith, would follow her to the ends of Pern, would prove himself worthy of her heart!

[Shoki]

R'le shuffled all the way there, just to the door then went past it and leaned up against the wall outside. It was as close as he had to go, and at the same time as much as he could refuse. He wasn't all there in his body anymore but he wasn't happy about this so a bit of him stayed to focus on the texture of the wall against his back and the view of the opposite wall through his black bangs. He needed a haircut.

Quiorith was quiet, hardly noticed, with the larger males much flashier and more eye catching. He wasn't paying them any mind at the moment. The Gold Queen had his undivided attention. Oh, she went up into the sky, quick as a shooting star. She wasn't a star though, falling from the sky. The Dragoness was a rising sun, defying the night that declared her having to fall. He couldn't help himself, the Cloud had to follow her, up to the sky. His wings protested the move, they had flown in the air all day, they wanted to rest. He refused to listen. The dragon could almost see a golden after image of the Queen as she went higher into the sky, and he climbed.

She called back to them, but oh, she had had to be teasing them. Quiorith could not hope that it was encouragement to them all. Still, quiet Quiorith was compelled to answer. He bugled back, but again, he was not a large dragon, so Mosiliath's deep roar was much more impressive. Still, he would not wish himself any other way. So, on the evening winds he sought to be the best he could be, rising higher after the Queen, though his large wings did protest his actions. It was no use, he couldn't hear them properly now. His physical state was but a trifle. Well, for the moment it was.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’kar remained aware of his human surroundings for long enough to realize that Rilora was only sporadically aware of hers. The absence of a verbal response to his half-question upon entering would not have been able to feel odd anyway, not with how closely tied in he already was with Ancalanath, but his purely human self (which was shunted off to a small corner of his consciousness at the moment) felt better for the realization.

He was aware of movement, a person entering only moments behind him, and later a person passing by the doorway. He was also aware of a brief flicker of motion at the bed-skirts, which brought an instant of increased separation between his thoughts and those of Ancalanath before he realized that it was only Bel, doubtless unnerved by all the strange humans.

———
Ancalanath cupped his wings, every motion synchronized, all thoughts focused on catching the Golden prize, Archith, Golden beyond Gold, more beautiful than the sun. He heard others bugle their acceptance of the challenge, but put them from his mind; in this, he knew on some instinctive level, knowledge that he shared these skies could only get in his way.

Despite that knowledge, Ancalanath glanced back, looking to see those that had entered this chase. Two he knew well, Cloud Quiorith and Tiger Mosiliath, fellow suitors from Aurora Ayleneth’s Flight, all those months before this. The other, a Bronze so dark he seemed near to Black, Ancalanath did not know as yet. It did not matter. This time, he vowed, the Tiger would not take the victory, nor would any of the others, not until he, Ancalanath, had dropped from the sky.

Archith’s roar split the air, and Ancalanath added his own roaring bugle to the answering calls. Why should he not? His lungs did not yet burn, and even when they did, still he would respond to any challenge Archith saw fit to deliver. Beating his wings more strongly, he drove for height, his attention focused on the Golden Queen who would dictate this dance.

Mosiliath was ahead of him on the ascent, but Ancalanath resolved to remove that advantage quickly. Driving forwards, he slid in off the larger King’s flank, utilizing the path Mosiliath was already cutting through the air to slip forwards until they were level. No matter what Archith wanted to see, Ancalanath was ready to demonstrate it for her. Endurance, agility, devotion, he would show it all to her, for all of it was for her. He would follow her to wherever she wished to go; would join her amongst the stars if need be. The sky was a dragon’s playground, testing ground, and proving ground, and he was ready to prove his quality to the Golden sun that led them, even as the sun set.

[Kaya]

The gravelly roar, the bellow, the same bugle, and a forth sound, a roar from another suitor now level with the other. She was pleased to see them compete so, a hopeless endeavor to be sure. As if they should ever catch her. No, this time she would follow her own will.

Yet...there was something alluring about them. The strength they showed and the subtle tricks them employed. She saw no flashy moves, no desperate dives, they simply followed. It wasn't so much to look at (she almost felt disappointed) but it was practical, and wasn't that what her children would need?

Children? When had she started thinking about-?

She flew over a change in the air even in the cooling night and fell a good thirty feet. She growled protest. She was not finished. She was not bound to this world and its cares. She would not be! She was Archith-Rilora! Strongest Queen the world had ever known. Her tail twitched as she shot back up into the air. It was getting dark, the moons were up early, and the brightest star, perhaps one could just make it out. Worse, higher was cold. The sky had not looked so unfriendly from the ground.

She would defy it, fly beyond the cold. She wheeled over the Kings, turning about to fly the other way over them, and angled herself towards that faintest yet brightest star. It would serve as her guide. It faded out and in again, a shadow of a twinkle, and it set that longing feeling in the Gold alight again. She pushed it away with both her wings, beating down the cooling air, the thinning higher air. She would make it to the top of the sky and break away from the world.

Still, the smallest doubt clung to the back of her mind. She fancied the ones who followed her...but who would follow her to the farthest reaches?

A trickle of clever thought crept back. If she could tire them all, then she would be free of them. She could be free of all things, and in her moment of great strength and power – as she kept telling herself – she wanted nothing more than to use that to make her world into the serene landscape of the night sky, something she had no hope of attaining any other day. She was too great, she burned too bright. She was the shining star by which the world found its way, and she could not rest.

The word, the idea of rest…? When had she gone soft?

It was a battle of fiery capability and icy burden that weighed in her mind even as she sought to lead her suitors on. She leveled for a moment, dipped to gain some speed, and then shot up with a spin as she had tried the one lovely day she’d spend with Temperanth. It wasn’t quite her move, so she thought of another and leveled out again. She tucked herself in and looped down once, then looped a full loop upward, and then did another down loop. She ended a touch lower than she had started, but the trick had been worth it for her. Perhaps now, just a bit of her energy used (she told herself she still had a great deal left) the others would try aerial displays of their own and tire themselves. Or perhaps impress her. Or both. In any case, the loops had been…fun. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. The lightness it brought to her thoughts carried her still upward, though she glanced back to see what the males might do.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

Archith, guiding Golden sun of this chase, looped overhead, her path seeming now set in the opposite direction to that she had begun her climb in. Well if she wanted maneuverability, he, Ancalanath, creature of flames to match her sun, was more than able to show her that. A single beat, then still the wings, use them as a pivot, the tail to guide the twist of the spine, and Ancalanath was once more on the same heading as the Queen, his body coming smoothly out of the corkscrew with which he had ended that back flip.

The air was thinning, growing cold, but that couldn’t matter, was not to be allowed to matter. Archith had declared this to be the playing field, and so on this playing field would they show the true worth of their talents, the true heights of their skills. Ancalanath recognized the spin, he’d seen it before, on the day of a Gather, while he’d sported with Golden Archith and her friend from the far North, diving and dancing on air over the ocean, and he bugled his appreciation of a move well performed.

Without even thinking of it, Ancalanath followed Archith’s loops, then repeated them, with corkscrews added and a true barrel-roll at the end. Agility was his specialty, maneuverability had been his strongest point since he first took to the skies, and he was determined to give Archith the best display he could, the very best display that had ever been given, for nothing less was deserved, not by the Golden sun that led his flight, and not by his own desire and ability. Front-flip, slight dive, barrel-roll, back-flip, ascent nigh perpendicular to the ground, swerve left level out, swerve right triple front flip, and level out. He danced once through that pattern, his hide gleaming, rippling so that in the dying light he appeared to be made of fire in truth, and then he went through the pattern again, loosing no ground, still close to the Golden sun that was Archith. Surely she noticed, thought more of him for this, he a creature of fire to her golden sun.

[Terayne]

Sith was silent, a shadow in the darkness that they flew through. Only the sound of his wings, the fire of his eyes burning through the night, showed his location, and he shifted as the Queen dove above them, turning in on himself in an invisible, serpent-like move his bulk SHOULD have prevented, and continuing to loyally follow her. She was beautiful, brighter than any sun on any world, let alone the poor representation that lesser beings attributed the life on their planet to. Archith outshone it, outshone everything. and he rumbled softly in appreciation of her beauty. His truest talent, his greatest strength, was not in his physical strength, but in that of his spirit. He was determined to be chosen by this most glorious of beings, despite his unworthy status next to her. They were but mere weaklings, and she, she deigned to notice them only when it suited her.

Such as now, he thought with some disappointment, when he could not show of his most glorious tricks for her due to the confining shadows that clung to him like a second skin, seeming to follow him. Shifting, he looked around to see the silly Flame performing admittedly stunning manuvers, his bright hide more than visible in the darkness. Sith would just have to make up for being invisible, he decided, and dove upwards slightly, feeling a slight lessening of the wind under his wings as it cooled more. They were not Midnights, to be flying like this at night, but all the same, Archith demanded their loyalty. She would get it from him, the Dark King.

It began low in his chest, and built up, a low, bass rumbling that vibrated easily through the air to her, carried more swiftly by the cold and clarity than it normally would have been. Underneath the thunder, it shimmered with life, with strength and vitality, with the promise of loyalty and devotion, a strong heart and mind to stand at her Guard's position and back her as Queen of the Weyr, to support her in every way. It was not music, not yet, just an undefined promise...

[Moo]

Mosiliath watched as Archith fell, fell below in the cool air, and thought – ah, I could catch her now. With her below me, I have the upper ground. With a snort of disgust, he quickly dismissed that thought. As much as he liked the idea of catching her, it would be a dirty trick and a discredit to his status and hers.

Besides, the flight had only begun, and he had to admit – Archith was nice to watch. He climbed higher in the sky, gaining more altitude with downward thrusts of his wings. Despite the tightness in his muscles from the unexpected chase, he flew on, his energy high and ready to be spent. He would use it all for her, the brilliant, shining Queen of the Weyr.

His eyes spun fast and bright when Archith sped around and looped through the sky, and when Ancalanath followed their Golden Queen into a well-executed roll, Mosiliath hung in the air and gurgled his approval of their prowess. Oh, to be young and lithe – two qualities he hadn’t possessed in turns. He had no trouble admitting to himself that if it was agility the Queen was after, Ancalanath would be her King. He hadn’t seen skill like that since his early Fort days.

At the sudden sound below him, Mosiliath glanced down. Oh! He had almost forgotten about Sith, so dark was that Bronze’s hide that he was nearly impossible to see now. A glimmer of amusement shone in his eyes at the younger dragon’s misfortune.

But with a shake of his head, Mosiliath flew on, minding Archith and her other suitors. He himself had no aerial tricks to show off, no special song – only the experience and knowledge age brought. Not nearly as exciting as a barrel-roll! Mosiliath tilted his wings and banked slightly to the right to gain a better vantage point. He knew he could do no more but trust in his endurance and hope for the best.

After all, the night was still young.

[Shoki]

The feeling of the thinning air as they rose in combination with the cold setting in was amazing. It was both exhilarating and frightening, like he was flying too close to the sun. In a way, he was. Trying to chase the Queen into the sky was chasing the rising sun, a magnificent folly. It was perfect for Quiorith in that way. He was already beginning to tire, not that surprising considering that he had been active most of the day, but since he lagged he could see a little bit of the bigger view.

Archith, the golden sun, preformed some quick and lovely loops, tossing off fire as she did so. The quick and unpredictable flames were Ancalanath, both following the Queen perfectly, but also throwing his own spin in, which matched perfectly for fire being thrown off the sun. Then, of course game a slightly smoldering ember, not quite yet ash, the dark Bronze. It was not a pop and crackle of the flame, but he made his presence known all the same. Of course, though silent and stealthy, it was unwise to lose sight of the large feline of Mosiliath. After all, who knew when he would pounce. So how did Quiorith fit in? He wasn't sure yet. Still, he was compelled by Archith and the air about him to do something. As much as the quiet wisdom of Mosiliath would be better, he was not of a mind to move in such a way. So he went about fitting in.

Having seen the pattern twice, once by the Gold and once by the Flame, Quiorith maneuvered to fly through the former display. As though the other dragons had created physical loops he had to fly through he moved side to side, then up and around the other pattern. So, instead of ending lower, as Archith did, he was higher up and behind them. His wings were displeased, but Quiorith certainly wasn't. After all, he had fit into the pattern, desiring to not interrupt this strange dance in the sky. After all, he was merely a window, a dragon shaped window. The sky around them was a night time one, and he was just a window to the daytime, illuminating the sun's rightful realm. The scene he had found himself in was a strange one, if he thought about it much. Still, it made perfect sense, since he had to fit.

She would see that, wouldn't she?