Fort Weyr - Feeding Grounds
Milling herdbeasts dot this lightly grassy section of the southern end of the bowl. Fences keep them neatly secured on all sides, even extending into the lake, allowing the beasts ample drinking water without granting them an escape. Dragons young and old come here to hunt on a fairly regular basis, though not all come at once of course. From here you can easily make out the entirety of the Weyr's lake as it spreads out south and southwest to the tumbled rubble of the far shore, while the rest of the bowl lies beyond the fences to the southeast, east and northeast.

NOTE: This flight was run at random and will result in only an NPC clutch.

Dawn has barely broken the horizon and the sky is still a watery, pastel shade as the weak wintry sun attempts to break through the drifting clouds. It snowed overnight and in a constant heavy snowfall, leaving most of the Weyr blanketed in thick, fluffy snow. It piles up high and the drudges and workers are already hard at work attempting to clear paths. Not that it'll matter in a moment, as Fort is about to receive quite the wake up. Jajenelja has been progressively growing more difficult over the coming days. Haughtier and unreasonable (more so than ever!), mixed with fits of giggling flirtatiousness and brooding moodiness. One never knows what they'll get with Jajen when the goldrider is proddy. For that is what she is, even for the most oblivious. It was just a matter of WHEN. And that when… is now.

Iaverulth has always loved the winter. Snow and ice never so much as put a kink in her tail, despite her preference to warm sun just like any dragon. All the fresh snow seems to spark what was already beginning to stir within her. Her wings extend from where she rests on her lower ledge, and her head swivels to admire the way the soft snow drifts off her pale glowing hide. Yes, this is perfect. This is HER time! Leave Kouzevelth to her spring rains and summer thunder, Kayeth to her fiery autumns. She is the queen of ice and snow and she is in her element! Stretching to her full height, she lifts her head up high and calls in her silvery, chiming call. Oh booooooys! Time to wake up and pay homage.

Velokraeth is there of course. He lives above the pale Iaverulth and he only has to crane his head forwards and croon sweetly to her in his honeyed way as he slowly begins to stretch and wake himself up from his half-slumber. Th'ero must be within his weyr and probably freshly returned from patrols. So much for breakfast?

Niumdreoth has a higher vintage point from his weyr, able to look out over the feeding ground on one side and then the lake to the next, which also gives him a good view over certain other weyrs. The large brown is awake, his swirling gaze settled on the horizon with a low rumble escaping him. His straps are still on proving he and his rider have not been home for long, in fact his rider was down getting a meal in the cavern before hitting the bed for some much needed sleep, at least that is what Abigail thought she would be getting. At the call from Iaverulth, Niumdreoth rumbles out before he is shifting slightly to rest upon the very edge of his ledge, stretching limbs and rolling shoulders while a trumpet of a rather sweet greeting is sent towards the beautiful gold that is calling out the boys.

Kimmila and Varmiroth are here too, awoken by the queen's siren call. And Kimmila is not happy about it. Varmiroth isn't eithe, though the blue is curious as he watches, and Kimmila…grumpily yanks on her clothes so they can go to the feeding grounds.

Iaverulth lifts her head to peer over her shoulder at Velokraeth's call and she'll rise onto her hind quarters to lightly touch noses with the pale bronze, openly flirtatious and teasing. The males are HERS now and no others and she will taunt and toy to her heart's content as she sizes up her suitors, bronze or brown! She absorbs their attentions greedily and the more who come to flock to her, the more haughty and cocky she becomes. Yes, that's right! Look at her! Arching her neck, puffing her chest, flaring her wings, Iaverulth will do everything in her power to drive the males wild. Niumdreoth's distant call is echoed again, her chime-like mental tone drifting over the winds in an enticing call. Another handsome suitor? How sweet. Soon the Weyr is filled with the calls of other males, some trying woo Iaverulth and gain a moment of attention from her, while others are in challenge. Eventually Iaverulth's need will flare and with a trumpeting call she'll lead her band of suitors straight into the feeding pens and from beneath her shadow is the tiny form of Jajen as the young goldrider races after her, hardly dressed to be tromping through the knee high snow. Even her jacket looks to be borrowed and probably from some bronze or brownrider (who are also converging on the grounds).

Velokraeth heaves himself to his feet but it's clear even from then that the pale bronze is NOT in his game. He's favouring one side, not in his wings but his legs. Not that he's about to let that stop him (or let the others sense weakness in him), despite his rider's arguing to stay put. Nope. The bronze pushes off his ledge, clumsily so, but manages and joins the rush of bronze and brown wings. Oddly enough, one bronze is absent. Zhirazoth is not among the pack.

Niumdreoth is indeed interested in this chase, an why not? He may be a brown but he is large, his won a gold flight before so in his mind there is no reason why he can't win another one! His wings flick at his sides, a low bellowing rumble escaping him, it echos across the rocky face of the cliffs, and it actually has a sweet sound to it once it does reach the gold. Niumdreoth does have a thing for music to some degree, and this weather is also his. Once Iaverulth is leaping into the air he is pushing off from his ledge, wings stretching while he glides downwards towards the feeding grounds after the others. Already his mind scene is in play, a wintery forest that is stretching and tickling at the edges of Iaverulth's mind, see how lovely his wintery forest is? Abigail is not that amused, though attempting to tell her dear dragon now to join into a flight that is right in front of him is like trying to get a canine not to chase a feline that is running in front of them. The brownrider is making her way out from the cavern, pulling on her flight jacket and struggling to find her gloves within her pockets in some attempt to offer her a bit more warmth in this lovely cold weather.

Kimmila and Th'ero move through the snow to the grounds along with dragons and other riders. Kimmila is bundled in her warmest gear, hood up, muttering. "Stupid Jajen. Stupid Velokraeth. Why does he have to chase? Why? Isn't he happy beign Weyrleader? He has to be clutchdad to all the dragons to? He's going to inbreed Fort…" And so on.

Iaverulth is quick to fold her wings and dive down on the herds and stir them into a frenzy before selecting her first victim. She has the blood lust on her then, teeth flashing as she kills and then begins to render the flesh, reading to eat… And hisses rebelliously, her tail lashing out as her will wrestles with that of Jajen. The girl wins this round and the pale gold submits to blood only, though her growls can still be heard. Niumdreoth's wintery forests are welcomed and she will coyly lure the brown to more. Show her more! Yet her attention wanes rapidly as more come to court her and Iaverulth wishes to play coy with each of them in turn, lavishing in the attentions. By now the feeding grounds are filled with bronze and brown, Fortian and an odd non-Fortian here and there, a minority for sure.

Velokraeth is among them, but he is clumsy and awkward. His stunted limbs are stiff from the cold and he did not stretch and massage them as he ought to in his rushed desire to chase Iaverulth. It takes him longer to take down a kill and time is wasted when he has to defend it from younger bronzes sensing weakness in the older bronze. He promptly makes them regret that and though his mind seethes to them, it is nothing but sweet honey to Iaverulth. Once in the air, it won't matter! All are equal there. "Inbreeding doesn't affect dragons," Th'ero mutters as he storms along side Kimmila to the feeding grounds and the closer they approach, the more possessive and protective he becomes… of her. Not of Jajen. In fact, the moment his gaze falls on the mousy young girl, he looks almost stricken. "He chases because he is male and bronze. I can't change that." Th'ero adds to Kimmila, his eyes darting to the other competitors and falling last on Abigail. A curt nod follows and a sympathetic smirk. Back to his weyrmate, Th'ero bends his head down to whisper tensely by Kimmila's ear. "You don't have to be here for this, Wingmate. If things get too… heated." Because Jajen is like Iaverulth and the goldrider is not one to cower… she is prowling among the riders as much as her gold taunts the males. Another reason why Th'ero is staying over here on the fringes.

Niumdreoth is quick to grab hold of a herdbeast that is escaping others, the animal is killed swiftly and the blooding starts. His wings rest loosely at his sides as he is ready to spring into the air in case the tricky gold takes off quickly. The brown's swirling gaze is resting on Iaverulth's form all the while. As for his wintery scenes they deepen as the gold asks for more. There is a forest just out of view, bright stars flicking and twinkle within the sky, he won't give everything away just yet though. Soft croons and trumpets escape the large brown as he watches Iaverulth still. As for Abigail she wanders along soon catching up to the others at the feeding grounds, her pale gaze checking out whom all is here and a soft breath escapes her all the while. There is a slight battle going on between her and Niumdreoth, there are many bronzes found, plenty of shoving and little scuffles going on she doesn't want her dragon getting hurt again because of a flight. She nod from Th'ero is caught and she offers him a slight nod back, even one to Kimmile if she should look up. Then well the brownrider will find a spot leaning against the fence letting her gaze flick from the dragons then back to Jajen.

Kimmila stomps in place, wrapping her arms around herself and /eying/ Jajen. Stay away, woman. "Stupid flight." Mutter. Grumble. Grouse. "I…" Frown. "Maybe." She might flee. Or she might stay here. It all depends on how bad Jajen gets. Flights. Bah.

Iaverulth will be lured away from her kill and blooding to flaunt her prowess among the males. Brazenly she'll approach some, crooning and cooing and toying with them. Defintiely instilling a deep sense of competition by firing up her suitors! Sweet Niumdreoth will even get his due attention and Iaverulth will slide her way over to him as he lures her in with those winter forests. Neck arched, body held in a tempting manner she will circle him, sizing him up and just at the height of her teasing she will saunter off with chimed laughter drifting on the wind. Another kill is snared, stolen from another bronze and another battle of the wills between the pale gold and Jajen and rider wins again. The sun begins to rise now, the skies lightening by the minute and it's then that Iaverulth lifts her blood stained muzzle to roar her long sung cry of challenge. Wing snap open and with a powerful leap she is airborne and leading them up and up and UP in a dizzying spiral. This will prove to be a fast and furious flight, for Iaverulth does away with fancy tricks and distance. For her, flight is all raw passion and only the strongest will outlast her.

Down below, Jajen is playing the same game as her gold among the riders still. A coy look here, a close step there, weaving and circling among a group that is rapidly growing tighter and closely knit. Some bronzeriders may get a touch pushy too, as they feed more into their bonded's emotions. Jajen stays away from Th'ero and Kimmila, her gaze focused on a certain Wingleader. "Abigail!" she purrs as she circles close, just as Iaverulth does to Niumdreoth. "How nice of you to come." she says with a coy little smile. "Niumdreoth is a worthy courter, even for a brown." And then with a giggle, she's flouncing back into the group of riders and drawing them closer to the guest weyr entrance.

Th'ero keeps close to Kimmila's side, even with the blue rider's mood being as it is. Even if the bluerider wanted to flee, it may be too late as he seeks to wrap his arms around her. Possessive again, especially when Jajen goes on the move. His relief can almost be felt when he's all but ignored and no wonder: Iaverulth hardly spares a second glance to Velokraeth, not that that keeps the pale bronze down. When they all surge up, so does he but he is visibly in the back and something that Th'ero notes with a distracted frown when his gaze drifts skywards. "He doesn't stand a chance." he growls under his breath, his voice carrying too many emotions to pick out which may be his or his bronze.

Niumdreoth is quick to grab himself another beast, the blood is drained from the animal before Iaverulth is going about making her rounds through the males and teasing them. The large brown croons out, head lifting, neck arching and his chest puffing out. His showing off clearly, see? He may be a brown but he is large, he is strong Look at his wings. Niumdreoth leans in close right before Iaverulth is off to tease another male and he is back to making sure his kill if fully drained. He s close to grabbing a third before the pale gold is roaring out and leaping into the sky. The brown is following, leaping into the air with a powerful jump, long wide wings opening and sending him upwards to follow with a deep rumble escaping him in the process. The wintery scene within his mind returns, the bright blinking stars picked up across the dark snowy forest, a slight sound of something in the distance of the forest caught which maybe drums. Abigail takes in a shaky breath once the dragons are taking to the sky, her gaze lingers on Niumdreoth, hoping that all goes well like every other flight she has been in recently. Janjen's voice catches her attention and she looks towards the other rider, a soft smile is seen and she chuckles softly. "Aye I certainly think he is." There is a few moments that she is left watching Janjen though and she grumbles a bit to herself before looking back to the sky.

Kimmila watches Jajen, relaxing when she moves away. Then she's snared by Th'ero, looking up at him. "No?" she asks, watching the dragons lift off. "Well. Good?" That's good, right? She tries to figure out his feelings on it even as she knows he's being swept up into the flight. So is she, to an extent, as the queen's lust filters into all the weyr's residents.

Iaverulth fills the skies with her silvery calls, chimes and bells ringing down through her mind as she extends it as far as it will go for all to hear. She allows the winds to guide her and her path, ever upwards, becomes wild the further she is permitted to flee. Her pale hide, even glowing, almost fades to match the weakened sun, giving her an almost ethereal look against a pastel morning sky. She is alive and her blood runs hot, something she also broadcasts back to her suitors (and to the poor Weyr below). Niumdreoth's drumming becomes the backdrop to her own heartbeat as the chase continues. Fiery and passionate, born of lust and instinct. A rising thrill of desire and need and Iaverulth plays it ALL, even as her wings begin to tire and she can feel exhaustion threading in. Yet she presses onward and calls again. Come catch her boys! No tricks, no fancy flying. Iaverulth is ready and she will be caught only by the best of the group closing in. It's all a role of fate!

Among the pack, many break away. A brown here, another there. Much older bronze's, who's hides have turned green and grey with age. They all fall back disappointed. Fewer chase the wintry gold and one of the last to drop out is Velokraeth. With a creel of disappointment, the ugly pale bronze forfeits as his strength depletes too rapidly and folding his winds he will drop and swoop back to his ledge to nurse his bruised pride while still caught in Iaverulth's broadcast. Th'ero's swept up in the flight to a degree, struggling against it's pull and that of Velokraeth's influence. His hold on Kimmila becomes almost fierce and he will stagger with a low grunt when his bronze falls back and out of the running. Talk about a mental smack to the face? Blinking, he shakes his head furiously and his expression is twisted, confused and conflicted. It's a mixture of relief, disappointment, excitement, frustration and desire and probably a whole gamut of emotions after that. In short: he's a mess. "Need to go… away from here. He couldn't fly her. We can't be here… must go," he manages to growl out through gritted teeth to Kimmila. "Now, Wingmate!" Yet where is she to go, when he's practically got her side pinned to his? He takes one stiff backwards step, then another but his eyes are still riveted on that assembled knot of riders with Jajen in the centre. That'd be Velokraeth's doing!

Niumdreoth sticks with the pack, his swirling gaze set upon that pale hide of Iaverulth's, so far so good with the flight. The brown has managed to have a rather good place, turning this way and shifting that way while his wings pull back at times as he is able to grab a bit of an uplift to send him closer towards the gold. While other males drop out he manages to keep going, call it determination, stubborn pride, or just a wanting need, but he is in this until the end. His mindscene continues, thick forest, snow filled ground and branches, the stars in the sky sparkle with a bit of pink and blue flash of light that dance across the pictured sky. The drumming continues, deepens the closer he gets to Iaverulth, soft sweet crooning escaping him all the while. The gold is starting to tire, Niumdreoth has picked up on this and is working on shifting closer, a deep eager bugle escaping him as he calls out to the gold that is not that far from him at the moment. Abigail is quiet, her eyes closing tight for a few moments as her shoulders tense up, the eagerness the wanting it's all there in her head right now and even though she is outside she feels rather confined, wishing for space and not able to find it. A faint cough escapes her and she sends a glance towards Jajen as the other riders that are still in the mix have moved closer towards her, and even though it is the last place she wants to be at she is heading towards the group as well, careful not to go stepping on anyone's toes at the moment seeing how emotions are in the air right now.

There's no mistaking Kimmila's relief when Velokraeth drops out. Sorry, big guy. Save it for Kayeth. Kimmila's second thought is for Th'ero, squirming in his embrace. "What's the rush?" she mutters, trying to get him to let go of her enough that she can…y'know…walk? She looks skyward again though the dragons are far beyond her sight, looking around and giving Abigail a grin and a thumbs up. Go for it! Another step…tugging Th'eo along.

Iaverulth drifts backwards despite the sweeping motions of her wings. They just do not have the strength to give her the power she needs to surge forwards. Her time is waning already and while part of her is crying out against it, the other submits to the natural way of things. She must be caught and the next leg of the cycle begun and though many a bronze court her, it will be a brown who's mind promises endless winter and forests and those intoxicating drums that snares her. Iaverulth twines herself willingly with Niumdreoth and down below the knot of riders will suddenly break and drift apart in the wake of fate's decision. Jajen is at the heart of it and it's to Abigail she goes to, no doubt quick to latch on to the Wingleader and drag her into the sanctum of the guest weyr and away from prying eyes and a group of rejected suitors. They too disperse, a few scuffles breaking out as frustrations surge and tempers flare with it before all drift away to find their own methods of coping.

Th'ero's grip only tightens when Kimmila squirms until he comes back enough to his senses and lets her go — enough that she isn't being crushed and restricted. Then he is being tugged and his reluctance to leave is snapped when Iaverulth is caught. He goes willingly then, stumbling after Kimmila even as he mutters thickly under his breath to her. "Don't want to be here… Seem weak…" More words follow, but the Weyrleader is clearly out of it. As a few bronzerider's overtake them heading back into the weyr, when one lingers too close and with a certain hopeful and admiring look to Kimmila, Th'ero snarls, literally, and the young rider hastily retreats.

Th'ero whispers "Couldn't finish the flight. They'll sense that… She was too fast. But he wanted her. Can still feel it though he dropped out… Can we just go, Wingmate? Please. I… need to… To be close. And I want…" He goes abruptly silent as that rider approaches and after his snarled comes the mangled words of: "Back OFF! She is my mate. MINE!" growled and guttural to that bronzerider and in a lower, hoarse voice: "Shardin' vultures, trying to claim what isn't theirs…" to Kimmila.

Niumdreoth is pushed forward closer and closer, he promises such sweet scenes, and a little place with endless winters and brightly light star filled skies for Iaverulth if he can only catch her. There is that moment where he sees and opening and without thought he is taking it. A quick burst of energy with a flap of his wings and his front legs are stretching out, clawed front feet gripping at the gold while his neck and tail entwines with Iaverulth's. His wings spread out, and he two dragon lovers are able to glide of and downwards to a spot where they can be alone. Abigail was hoping for the win, she truly was, along with hoping Niumdreoth would just stay safe. The moment Niumdreoth has grabbed Iaverulth she is moving closer to Jajen and thusly grabbed, though dragging her anywhere she doesn't have a problem with that as her mind is in the same place as her dragons at the moment. So off to the Quest weyr indeed they go. This has turned into a rather interesting night to say the least.

Kimmila gives Th'ero a confused look, before she too is reacting negatively to the approach of another. And as Abigail and Jajen are whisked off, and eggs are being made, Kimmila grasps Th'ero's hand and pulls him back towards their weyr.