Blood Fire Sex Magic ((LEADERSHIP FLIGHT))

((OOC: With apologies to the Red Hot Chili Peppers for the title))

Yllaveth emerged from between low over the feeding grounds, sending the Weyr's herd into a stampede of fear.  It didn't help matters that she roared her rage to the sky.  She touched down long enough for her rider to flip the emergency disengage catches on his fighting straps and slide to the ground, taking the bulky flamethrower with him.  The moment Br'son's boots touched the sandy soil, the queen was off again, arrowing like a deadly projectile toward the largest, fattest beast she could see.  

The wind of her passage knocked Br'son down, and the flamethrower landed on his chest, momentarily robbing him of breath.  That didn't matter much, though, because his brain was already locked on to Yllaveth's.  The tightness in his chest was a mere inconvenience compared to the maelstrom of her mind.  

Blood.

No.



Br'son's air came back in a whoosh.  He shoved the flamethrower off and pushed himself slowly to his feet.

Blood, Yllaveth, the Weyrsenior persisted, his tone quiet but stronger than the metal for which his queen was named.  She turned back at him, snarling her rage over her wings at the rider whose will stood between her and the hot, steaming meat her body craved.  

You've flown Fall.  You're exhausted.  Your flight will be short enough.  Blood. Only.  Love of my life, I will not bend on this.  You will blood.

Slowly, inexorably, the queen's need bent under the tireless pressure of her rider's will.  She turned back to her kill and fastened her teeth about its neck, draining it of the life-giving fluid in its veins.  

Another... and another.  

Br'son stood in the midst of the feeding grounds and replayed this scenario each time, forcing Yllaveth to bend to his will, making her restrict herself to consuming only the blood.  He could feel the hot liquid, like molten metal pouring down his throat, lighting him up from the inside as his hide began to pulse with a blue-white sheen.  He spread his wings to the wind, feeling the temperature difference between the chill of the air and the inferno inside him.  

The blood burned away the aching fatigue of Fall, the sadness of lost comrades, leaving only desire in its wake.  Desire for speed and heat, for a chase, and a tangled, breathless, soaring, diving conclusion.  

Yllaveth lifted her head and, for the first time, acknowledged the male dragons that had gathered to watch her blood her kills.  Their desire and anticipation sang to her, and Br'son let out a laugh of pure exultation.  

Come, she said, and launched in a blue-white streak directly upward, as her rider threw his hands wide and lifted his sightless eyes to the sky.

Divisk had slept unusually lightly. Surely it had nothing to do with the queen flying Thread, but even Dividia wouldn't tease him with that.

Still, it halted her in her steps when the wher woke up, evening still ahead, a maelstrom of emotions she couldn't pick clear flooding between them.

After a moment, she resumed her pace, but a smile edged her lips. "Ah. Our senior queen is going up for a chase." She wondered, idly, if the repercussions would be stronger than angry young E'zen's. Less idly, she wondered who would win. She had nothing against Sidran, but there were other...interesting...options.

It was over.

Jah'vi slumped, feeling relief and the deep regret of loss all at once. Nolinth was silent, for once, just a steading presence in his riders' mind. L'thyr, he thought, bitterness creeping up his chest. He blasted man, he thought, how could this have happened. They'd trained nonstop, preparing for every eventuality. If only they hadn't jumped *between*... they could have saved them.

It is time! Yvalleth rises!

Nolinth's voice errupted in his ears suddenly, the bronze pratically thrumming in excitement.

We have to return to the Weyr, NOW

Jah'vi felt his brain actually slam to a halt for a moment, before he envisoned the Weyrbowl and felt the cold slap of *between* against his face. He was barely off Nolinth and just managed to unstrap his riding harness before the bronze leapt into the air, letting the leather straps fall to the ground. Jah'vi grabbed them, growling in annoyance; he'd heard the groan of the metal clasps, and knew he'd be repairing that soon.

Hopefully not today, though, he thought, heading to the flight chambers. It had started as just his normal teasing, yes, but Jah'vi was willing to admit that it had become something else with Br'son recently. Maybe it was Nolinths' determination to prove his prowess over the cobalts, prove that the bronze were not relics of the past, but he'd found himself craving the Weyrsenior. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, honestly. He was used to getting what he wanted.

And to prevent Casriel from becoming Weyrleader... he set his jaw and hurried his steps. He got there in time to see Br'son, arms open and staring upwards, and his throat went dry at the site. At the same time Nolinth roared and rocketed off after the titanium queen.

There may have been others nearby, but his eyes were fixed on the titanium rider at the center of it all. We'll win, he thought fiercely, eyeing Br'son possessively. Let Casriel and her hate rot, he thought.

They were still out in the open, and this wouldn't take long, Jah'vi could tell. He grasped his wits about him and strode to the Weysenior, tugging his arm to pull him back to the flight weyrs. "Should take this somewhere more private," he said, his voice laced with promises.

Yes. was all the answer Maraxih gave, licking blood off his own jaws as he rose after Yllaveth, noting Nolinth's speed and ignoring the trumpets of Manticath. The young bronze split the air like an overripe melon. He zipped past Maraxith, heedless of his own sire as he rocked after the glowing Titanium queen. Thortoth landed well away from the cobalt and the bronze. He was a big blue, hatched from the same clutch as Yllaveth. There were no rules about blue dragons chasing Titanium queens. This was only Yllaveth's second mating flight. T'kal would let me fly, if only to sooth the ache that still lingered from Aliseth's banishment. The blue trilled high and sweet.

"He's right. " Z'ashs voice sounded to loud and too young in his own ears but he nodded agreement to Jah'vi words.

"Yes." Casriel purred as she reached the knot of rider's, though her cool eyes glittered sharply. She narrowed them slowly and T'kal looked away, Z'ash down.

Nolinth was no fool. He knew his main strength against Maraxith was his speed. He let Manticath zip past him, knowing the young bronze wasn't his real competition. Let him wear himself out, let Maraxith compare the two bronzes and underestimate him.

"Come on, buddy," Jah'vi said with a smooth chuckle, meeting Casriel eye to eye and not backing down. With a light hand on Br'sons arm, careful not to squeeze or force, he stepped him backwards and towards the rooms nearby for this exact purpose.

He'd let himself be distracted while they moved to the more private areas, but now he met Casriels' gaze again, a smirk on his face. He wouldn't be cowed like the others by her, and the way he kept his hand resting lightly on the Weyrseniors arm for a moment before gently letting go was all but an outright challenge.

Threadfall always left the powerful brown feeling a little high spirited. So in a way he was more happy than surprised at Yllaveth's sudden desire to fly. He returned with Sh'lor to the Weyr and dropped him off on the ground. It did not take more than a minute for Sh'lor to remove the straps and things that went with fighting Thread, off of the brown so that he was free to blood a beast. He only needed one though as he had only eaten a couple of days before.

Imioth flew after the Titanium without much encouragement from his rider. Sh'lor wasn't thinking about what this flight could mean for his future. Instead he was a little distracted by the brown's fervor. This would happen to him. Like his dragon wasn't chasing every female he could as it was, now it had to be directly after Threadfall when he was feeling particularly excitable.

He agreed with the others that they should go somewhere private nad followed quietly wherever Br'son was being led.

Cosenne laughed, but her laugh held a rueful edge as Filioth dropped her near the flight weyr and made his way to the hunting grounds. He was as eager as the rest, but Cosenne didn't think he really had much of a shot. He was tired, and rattled from Osgiliath's loss. But then, so was everyone else.

She opened her flight jacket and slipped it off her shoulders, then looked around for the others. They'd show up soon, no doubt. She wondered where Br'son was, and then, idly, after N'set. Perhaps if neither of them was victorious, she and her old friend would end up together tonight.

But then again, perhaps not.

***

D'caen swore. Basilath's minor score had opened up again in flight, and needed a bit more numbweed, but the brown would not be dissuaded. A female was rising. He would chase, no matter how much his wings burned and the score on his flank seeped ichor.

The brownrider found himself deposited rather unceremoniously near the knot of riders escorting the Weyrsenior to the flight weyr while Basilath joined those who would chase. When Yllaveth rocketed into the sky, Basilath followed, not at the front of the pack... but not at the very rear, either. He was a large brown. His strength was endurance... so he would endure.

***

Br'son was vaguely aware of movement as he felt Jah'vi (yes, that had to be Jah'vi. No one else sounded quite like that...) and the others pulling him along the uneven ground of the rimtop meadow toward the upper level cave that functioned as one of their flight weyrs. With the weyr being situated in a canyon, it had seemed to make sense to have flight weyrs on both the bottom and the top of the cliff, so as to meet whatever needs arose.

Not that he was thinking about any of those things just then... but he'd be grateful for their foresight later.

Above them all, Yllaveth reached the top of her arc and let her upward momentum slow as she folded her wings in tight to her body. She coiled herself backwards in a graceful, sinuous move that pointed her nose back at the distant soil. She kept her wings folded tight, her forearms and legs streamlined to her body as she dove, accelerating faster than thought back down. Down in a move that was designed to scatter her pursuers, and keep them guessing.

Nolinth easily caught an updraft, sweeping to the left and above Yvalleth as she dove, sending the less experienced chasers scattering. Usually a talker, calling out to the females he chased, Nolinth was being unusually quiet. He didn't follow Yvalleths' dive, simply watching and waiting for the moment. Even with the Fall having just ended, the titanium wouldn't be caught so easily. Not yet, and he gave a surge to follow her, letting the wind currents do most of the work.

But when she tired, he would be right there.

Jah'vi had just now realized that all of them standing in the room were still wearing their fighting leathers, ending his wondering of why it was hotter than normal. He'd managed to divest himself of his helmet at someach point, but his goggles still hung from his neck and his jacket was buttoned up still. Biting at the fingers of one glove, he slid it off and quickly removed the other. He stuffed them in a pocket of his jacket even as he made quick work of the buttons, feeling like he could finally breathe once he'd shrugged it off his shoulders.

The tight undershirt left little to the imagination in terms of his sleekly muscled body, something he was well aware of. He'd kept up his position near the Weyrsenior, though he had let go of the younger man's arm once they'd reached the privacy of the flight chambers. Br'son looked absolutely stunning, reveling in his queens flight, and Jah'vi wanted nothing more than to relieve him of his jacket as well. Still, he kept his hands to himself, instead devouring the titan rider with his eyes, waiting for Nolinth to see his opening and take it. Nolinth and his single track mind were quickly taking over, and a surge of heat in his stomach had him step just slightly closer to Br'son without realizing it.

He remembered their conversation at the hatching feast and that little smirk came back. Br'son had no idea what he was missing, but as long as Nolinth kept his pace and didn't overextend himself too early, he had no doubt he could have the Weyrsenior singing a different tune in the morning.

Casriel slid easily from her jacket, peeling her gloves from her like petals from a flower. She could feel Maraxith's lust and power rising within her, setting her blood to simmering like saffron oil in brazier. As Jah'vi moved, she repositioned herself easily. She did not need to close the gap between herself and Br'son, she could leap forward if she chose. She stood poised, like feline in the high grass, and breathed the rich scent of Br'son through her slightly parted mouth.

'I have tasted you before.' she thought, looking at him with gem bright eyes. She had favored him with his the same look before, during Aliseth's flight. 'I have tasted you and you me. Savoring what sweetness I had, which I save for you. Only you.'

He couldn't possibly hear her thoughts but her face spoke, the way her fingers trailed down her neck to the base of her throat, playing with the laces of her blouse.

Maraxith checked his large wings and soared, somewhat outpace by Nolinth and Manticath but ahead of Thortoth, who was but blue speck in the back of the pack. A few Browns and cobalt Fillioth had joined the chase as well. Nolinth was ahead but where Gaveth's was who knew. That made Maraxith wary; the other Cobalt could come out at any point, should Yllaveth give him coordinates. As much as he wanted to surge forward, he paced himself.

The blood in the Cobalt's gut churned and his breath came like the bellows of a forge. Osgilath's death was a dull ache in the back of his mind; the younger Cobalt had been one of Maraxith's own offspring with mighty Parazath. It galvanized the old Cobalt, making his instinctual nature manifest full forth. He had to win, to spend his seed and further is blood line. Manticath could do that was well but Maraxith would not retreat from even his own son.

Yllaveth... he sighed and with her one name spoke of his loyalty, his power, his desire and willingness.

Devonith, as was the way of him, considered for the briefest moment, and then his mind was made up.

He would chase, and he would win.

I'zak, who could feel the tiredness of fall in his bronze despite the surge of energy that tempting Titanium hide called, didn't argue. In moments the coppery-bright hide was stripped of straps and harnesses, Devonith was on the move, and I'zak was all saunter to the flight weyr.

As though it didn't matter, as ever. Which meant the posturing and refusing to posture around him went completely unnoticed, apparently. He was all lounge and saunter, even as Devonith went full out in chase.

***
N'set didn't want to be Weyrleader; there were people he would beat out (or beat) if necessary, and so in the fight - er, flight...no, fight - they would be.

Tsaveth's motivations were pure. Yllaveth was a challenge - a shining, threatening, welcoming, near-perfect, near-impossible ideal of a challenge. And so he wanted. And so he chased.

N'set, feeling the heat of the chase even before he got to the flight weyr, discarded jacket, shirt, helmet and bags on some non-chasing bystander without a glance. And so, bare chested and ready for the fray, he had no second thought for when he'd see his things again.

Clearly more pressing things, for the present.

Of all the people to be stuck in a room with, this group had to be the least welcome on the whole. Cobaltriders, Jah’vi (who was more traitor to the old guard than helpful) and others with more lenient view points in general. He didn’t care too much about colorism when it didn’t get in the way of his achieving rank but more often than not, it did. He could not see how they would consider a Scarlet on equal ground as a brown.

Imioth’s chocolate hide rippled as the muscles in his chest moved. Wings pumped the air as he followed Yllaveth up in her arc. And he darted out of her way as she plummeted back down. He didn’t have a moment to think about how to catch her. He began to dive too but felt he shouldn’t come as close to the ground as she, he didn’t want to waste too much energy. At the same time, it might be interesting to show her that he had the stamina to keep up with her no matter where she led. That he had the capacity to to dodge, roll and be everything that was needed.

On the ground, Sh’lor began to feel hot. He preferred women, even when it came to flights but that didn’t always mean he got what he wanted. This wouldn’t be the first time he was feeling hot for a man and likely wouldn’t be the last. Imioth was forever chasing and until he found a more constant situation himself, Sh’lor saw no reason not to let the brown practice. And now, even as he removed his flight jacket, gloves and other items that were making him even more heated, he knew this was anything but practice. This was serious.

This was their chance really to prove they were better than the others thought they were.

Fillioth dodged neatly as Yllaveth came diving past them.  He'd not seen a trick like that before, which perhaps explained why his opportunistic tail-lash was just seconds too late to capture the queen as she brushed by.  He let out a roar of frustration and folded his wings, diving after her, determined to make up the ground he'd lost.  

No matter who got in the way.  

***

Unfortunately for Basilath, he ended up being one of the dragon in cobalt Fillioth's way.  The big brown had managed to avoid Yllaveth's headlong dive, but almost missed Fillioth's following her, and so was close enough that the cobalt's passage knocked him out of coordinated flight.  He lost several hundred feet of altitude before getting his wings back out and working properly, and by then, the queen and her pack of pursuers were far, far away.  

On any other occasion, Basilath might have tried to catch up, but after a Fall... and with a threadscore besides... he, too, let out a roar of frustration and turned for the golden slash of the canyon.  He'd land, get some numbweed, and then have his rider drink them both into insensibility.  

Sounded like a plan to Basilath.  

***

D'caen cursed, and stumbled out of the flight weyr.  His eyes refused to focus properly, as his brain was still tangled up with Basilath's vision.  He had to make it down the walkway, which was perilous at the best of times.  How was he going to manage now?  

"Brownrider?" a female voice called, slightly hesitant, and D'caen turned that way like a drowning man turning to a lifeboat.  

"Take me down," he rasped, his voice gruff.  "I need numbweed for Basilath, and lots and lots of wine... and you, if you're willing to stay."  

***

Br'son laughed again, feeling Yllaveth's joy as she asserted her dominance and desirability.  At the bottom of her dive, a scant thousand feet above the terrain, the queen snapped her wings out, arresting her fall, and entered into a climbing right turn.  She stroked her wings against the sky, feeling the powerful burn of her muscles.

You may chase, but I will choose, she sang out to the dragons that pursued her.  Cobalt and brown and blue and bronze, you honor me with the beat of your wings, with the pulse of your hearts.  But I would have more from you.  I would have more from my mate.  From my Weyrleader.  

With this, Yllaveth paused, flaring her wings out, with the afternoon sun behind her.  Her momentum held her there for a moment, letting her silhouette etch itself into the minds of her pursuers, and then she arched over backwards again, sacrificing another hundred feet or so of altitude for more airspeed as she charged directly at the pack, her eyes locked on the dragon she had chosen.

***

((OOC, if anyone wants to play the female voice who picks up D'caen, feel free!))

Tsaveth nearly lost out alongside Basilath after Yllaveth's dive and Fillioth's following. And so, somewhat distracted, his chase became about fouling his cobalt clutchmate's path. Turnabout, and all that.

And since they had flown together and jockeyed all along their lives, he was quite, quite good at it.

And so might have missed Yllaveth's point...a bit.

***
Devonith made the first dive and climb admirably. The second...less so. He was far behind where he should have been, and though he heard his senior queen, he was in no position to act on it.

Nolinth thrummed a wordless reply to Yvalleth, his pride a bit pricked that she had included the bronzes last. Spurred on now, he dove, angling himself to intercept the titan queen as she charged straight at the remaining dragons.

Jah'vi smirked along with his dragon, glad that Nolinth had saved his stamina for this moment. His lithe body was a bronze arrow streaking across the sky. So close.

He might have said the words out loud, but it was difficult to hear anything above the pounding of blood in his ears. He had all but forgotten about this bring a flight for Weyrleader. As far as he was concerned, the world had narrowed down to just Br'son. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the Weyrseniors face, press against those flushed lips. He gave an audible groan at the self control he had to exert, balling his hands into fists at his side instead.

Sh'lor felt rather than saw D'caen drop out of the flight, as Imioth did what he could to please Yllaveth. She deserved the best and he would do whatever was needed to prove he was one of them. The brown watched the radiance of her hide as it caught the light. She was never more beautiful than now.

Imioth wondered who she would deem as worthy as the titanium began to rush at them. Who would she choose?


----

Aurayath never lasted a full fall, so she had been done a while ago. The green was scrubbed and oiled and gone back to rest on their ledge. Instead of carrying her rider back, Brielody had thought to walk back and stop in on the Candidates to see if they were being helpful.

As she walked, she saw D'caen stumble out of the flight weyr. "Brownrider?"

She heard his pleas, was something wrong with Basiliath? Aurayath heard her rider's concern, I will tell Ohanith. Your sister can help.

"Hold on to me. Aurayath has informed the dragon healers." Don't forget the wine... She added as the dragon wouldn't be the only one needing to numb the pain.

Ohanith had received the message. though she soon told them that Kalabria would be on her way to Basilath with the requested items.

The greenrider wasn't exactly immune to the flightlust of a Queenflight but she was more concerned about Basilath to concern herself with the last part of his request.

Maraxith watched Yllaveth plummet through the rolling, hot air and dropped a little after her. Her words sang through him, urged him onward as Casriel's desire did. His rider wanted her rider and he wanted her. Maraxith glided down in Yllaveth's wake but did not drop as dramatically as she had. He knew she would have to get high eventually and he would not sacrifice altitude unless he had to. Then she was there, framed against the sky like a jewel. Her words rang clear and crisp through Maraxith.

She would choose? He accepted it as he must but his body aches to close the gap to her. Mighty and beautiful Yllaveth, Queen over them all.

"Basilath has a score on his flank," D'caen forced himself to say.  "Minor, but it opened up.  He had to chase, though.  Couldn't stop him.  It's who he is.  Dragon loves the females," he quipped, or tried to, in any case.  His head pounded and his skin ached to feel hers... or someone's.  But she hadn't said she'd stay, and D'caen would never touch a woman unwilling.  

***

Cosenne snarled at N'set as Tsaveth fouled Fillioth's flight path, spoiling things for them both.  She felt Yllaveth's words reverberate in her mind, transmitted through Fillioth, but her anger and disappointment flooded through her anyway.  Choosy or not, Fillioth was out of the running, simply by virtue of being too far away.  He'd gambled and lost, thanks in part to his everpresent rivalry with Tsaveth.  

Cosenne found her hand gripping something.  Cloth?  A shirt?  Hers, perhaps?  She balled it up and flung it away from her as fast as she could, then looked around for another outlet for her towering rage and frustration.  

***

Yllaveth arrowed straight for her chosen mate, and intercepted him with the full force of a queen in flight,  As a result, the male dragon tumbled in the air.  But Yllaveth was there with spread wings, ready to catch and be caught, if he chose to take the chance she offered.  
I will have unity in my Weyr, she said with finality. I will have an end to the infighting and the politcking.  We will be one, or we will die.  Can you save us, Imioth? Do you have the courage and the will... and the humility?

On the ground, in the flight weyr, Br'son reached out with lightning quick hands and balled his fists in Sh'lor's shirt, dragging the other man close.  

"Will you lead us together?" Br'son asked, his eyes dark and intense as he spoke the words that resounded through Yllaveth's mind and the minds of those chasing her.  "Or will your pride get in the way?"

I'zak had already stepped back, but the result of the flight swung him around again. She'd chosen...

Nah. Not today. Today he would drink, raise a glass or five to the fallen, and drink. Tomorrow he'd maybe consider thinking about a brownrider Weyrleader, but...

Nah.

***
N'set also pivoted, barely leashed rage rising to the surface. Before he could move, two things happened:

At least it wasn't J'ril.
and
I'zak's arm around his shoulders. "Drinks, cobaltrider. Best thing for it, eh? C'mon."

And though he should have thrown the bronzerider - how dare he! - back and away, the ease of voice was backed up by impressive strength, which was enough of a distraction to remind him no matter the cause, or his own experience, interrupting a queenrider at the end of a flight was -

well. Beyond stupid. He let himself be jostled/pushed/pulled out of the flight weyr.


***
Somewhere well beyond the reaches of the Weyr, Gaveth took a savage pleasure in informing his rider how her grand plan had worked out.

And, safely away from overhearing ears, Sidran cursed. A lot. With passion, creativity, and nearly as much vigor as her cobalt.

Who, for his part, sent their gathered quartzes, scarlets, and greens back to the Weyr, to celebrate or mourn or whathaveyou.

Sweeps were over, but the former lead cobaltpair flew on.

All flight lust drained out of Jah'vi, replaced by anger in an instant. Sh'lor. Who hated all the new colors. Who had undermined him in every single way possible while he tried to hold the tattered Eastern Weyr together. The divisive wherryass who he had told Br'son about.

He didn't wait for anything else, stalking out of the flight chamber with murder in his eyes. He shouldered his way past the flight moths, not in the mood for company, and made a beeline for his weyr.

Nolinth had already taken a dunk in the lake, and there was liquor in his quarters. He could drink, clean up his bronze, and violently curse in privacy there.

Imioth recovered quickly and being rather more brawn than brain, his wings were ready long before his words.His dark form still had the capacity to help guide them, even after Fall and a Flight. His wings were only beginning to feel some signs of weariness though he would have hung on longer for her if she had wanted him to.

He had never really had a problem with any color and chased all females equally. He saw no reason why he wouldn't want them all to get along. Indeed the brown was much more in favor than Sh'lor to begin with although no less ambitious. He would be what she needed. The brown had no trouble with being the figurehead for those who needed to see old and new coming together.

We must be one or Thread will win. I will do what is needed.

Sh'lor on the other hand was pulled in close by Br'son before he realized what had happened. His eyes locked onto Br'son's as if he weren't sure if the Titaniumrider were serious. It might normally have been clear that he was shocked if his emotions were not also mixed in with a fair amount of lust. His thoughts composed quickly, he was able to get out a breathy, "Together. I swear it."

He couldn't vouch for his pride. There were times it could get the better of him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try. Sh'lor knew how unfavorably this would go with the other riders but right about now, he didn't give two dragon tails. The tension in the air around them was only fueling his desire. With Br'son's hands on his shirt he stepped forward, leaning in toward him and kissing him with the intensity that flight lust was known to produce.


Brielody did what was necessary of course but she had never been good with spontaneity. But as they walked, she felt the heat of the flight on her skin. Her mouth was dry and she had done everything she could not to act like she wasn't losing control right now. Her hand reached for his, any contact would be better than this. "They all have an intense desire to please their Queen. If Aurayath were male, I'm certain she would do the same."

Kalabria had found Basilath already and was applying the numbweed. The brownrider was likely in no state to help his own dragon right now. Yllaveth would go up right after a Fall! She was slightly irritated about it because she was sure there would be dragons in the infirmary sooner than later with strained muscles from over-doing it. Or like Basilath, some that flew injured and made their injuries worse.

"Wineskins are there. Extra numbweed for later. I already disinfected the wound too." Matter of factness was normal for her, especially between Kalabria and Brielody, who were a lot more like K'brien than their mother. Seemingly distant toward people. "It should heal up alright on it's own. I'm going to go. Bring him in to be checked on tomorrow." Or she would personally hunt them down and check anyway.

Brielody thanked her sister as she walked away. Turning her attention back to D'caen. "Are you sure you want me to stay?" Was there someone else he wanted to be with? She wondered if in his haze he had thought she might be someone else.

She was slammed back into her own mind and body so hard, she reeled. Her vision was blurry and her heart was pounding, threatening to drown her hearing out completely. Casriel, however, didn't need her ears to feel her dragon's explosion of rage. So rarely did Maraxith issue such emotions; such displays were more often his rider's. All the same, his roar blasted through hot air and Casriel; it flooded toward the Wingleader in a series of images. It was the night Parazath and Garrah had been lost, it was Maraxith's glass shattering cry of loss mingled with her own desolate screams. It was bruises across her ribs were she had been held back that night, it was the taste of dragon musk, Garrah's mouth and...

Something sharp, something iron and warm.

Casriel shook her head, her blond hair flying. Vision returned and something pool in her mouth. She had bitten her lip in the moment. Gem bright eyes blinked, stared and blood stained lips curled in a snarl.

Casriel spat blood upon the floor in Sh'lors direction and turning on her heel, made for the exit. Her hand caught in the laces of her blouse and suddenly fisting her hand, she tore at her shirt. The sweat drenched fabric hissed, ripping from her throat to her navel. She cared nothing for it, nothing for the blood dripping down her chin.

She hadn't got two steps out of the flight weyr when she collided with another one of the chasers. Her momentum was so great that she fell into the male rider. She fisted her hands in what she could find purchase in, whether it was shirt, hair or flesh.

"Move!" Casriel snarled.

(I don't know feels like submitting their male rider to Casriel's lust and fury but if you are down, so am I.)

I'zak released N'set and stepped back, a sardonic smile appearing that masked any answering anger that may or may not have surged at Casriel's...well, Casriel, who suddenly grabbed at the cobaltrider beside him.

N'set, for his part, snarled back. "Or what?" he asked, challenge far more pointed toward an entirely different sort of fight than she might be spoiling for.

"Or!" Casriel began and it came back to her. The water, the darkness swelling all around them. The lust rising and then receding as she had retreated.

Well, there was no retreat her eyes now. Casriel licked her lips and dropping her hands to N'sets hip, pull him close.

"Or I will just have to finish what I started the other night." Casriel purred, leaning in to kiss N'set deeply. So fierce and piercingly sweet was the taste of his mouth and the desire that had shifted in her the night before uncurled luxuriously.

"Cosenne too for I would never part you." Casriel said.

I'zak, wisely, left.

**
N'set, even in the flight- and Casriel-caused fog that had fully clouded his brain, knew where Cosenne was. Of course he did; he always did. And so, unerringly, his hand reached out, touched her arm (the other arm had wrapped itself quite securely around the blonde cobaltrider pressed against him). An invite, making itself known, for Cosenne to accept or ignore.

Though, this scene before him? He couldn't imagine ignoring.

Br'son returned the brownrider's kiss, passion and fury and deep, deep intensity fueling his every move. Above them, and far away, Yllaveth and her chosen mate came together.

Who knew what the morning would bring, but for now, this promise was enough.

***

Cosenne felt his touch, saw her look, and gleefully allowed herself to be drawn in. Fillioth's anger and frustration and rage could be slaked like this... two other cobaltriders? Oh yes. That would do nicely.