Who Aignes, S'van, K'vir, F'inn
What Blanket forts can't stop Czarduinath from taking to the skies in her maiden flight. Cookies may be shared.
When Day 16 of Month 6 of Turn 2719
Where Cavern of Pillows, Fort Weyr


Cavern of Pillows
This enormous cavern stretches on into the darkness, its walls bare and grey, the domed ceiling dissapearing in shadow. Save for the noise made by those who enter, it is utterly silent here, and even then the echoes that bounce off the cold stone are muffled by the floor. For the ground is covered in.. pillows. Dusty and old, pillows of every shape and size have been piled high, along with folded blankets, sheets, curtains, and other textiles. Rolls of fabric, their colors faded from age, have been stacked here and there, and the occasional bag or leather item is visible amongst the other things. There must be thousands of items in here, stored away for the weyr's use and then forgotten.

Despite the fine sweltering summer evening, Aignes has managed to barricade herself in an out of the way tunnel, complete with unseasonable flannel pajamas, fluffy bunny slippers and mountains and mountains of blankets. Total princess and the pea mountain going on there, visible from the half dozen or so glowbaskets scattered around the impromptu retreat. And in the middle of it all? The greenrider currently has eyes only focused on a book in front of her and the cookie in her hand. That will all soon change as Czarduinath is about to prove that not all that glitters is gold. Sometimes it's a brilliant emerald green! The dainty dragon has been napping since a very thorough oiling session the afternoon, but now she begins to stir and stretch those wings. Along with the stretching, she reaches out a mental invitation complete with glittery seal and streaming ribbons « Sorry about the short notice and no RSPV needed, but tonight seems like it'll be just lovely for a party! »

Why are S'van and Aedeluth in Fort? It's probably Weyr-business. What else could take the Monacoan weyrsecond so far from home? But while Sev is off doing who-knows-what, the bronze is left to loiter in the sun. While others might nap, Aede is attentive to that glittering green that hints at glowing. Except there's no *hinting* about it. He's up when she's up, pushing to his feet and leaping from the heights to soar toward the feeding pens to stake his claim even before she's headed there herself. Invitation? Definitely accepted, whether his rider approves or not.

What timing in visiting! While it's true that over the Turns, K'vir returning to his 'home' place of birth are less and less, he finally made the trip. One that he may or may not end up regretting! Jury is still out on that regard. Anyone who's father is Th'ero is bound to have some reservations on family dinners, okay? Though that has since resolved and K'vir has made some hasty excuses to evade further company among his parents and siblings, the bronzerider really was aiming to see some old friends. Zekath? Had other plans. The bronze WAS doing his usual sentinel duty along the higher points of the Weyr but that invitation given by Czarduinath? Far, far too tempting to resist! So of course it's accepted with polite, if reserved, flare. « Well this is a welcomed surprise! » Because it is! K'vir is not so thrilled on this chain of events but now that the bronze is focus driven, there's no stopping it.

F'inn is having a horrendous day. Horrendous enough that he had been on his way to Shenigans in the hopes of drinking until he either passed out or got called away and forced to sober up. Either one would be great. Course, what he /REALLY/ needs is a distraction. A massive, mind numbing distraction. Nymionth— entirely to eager to be helpful whenever possible— has picked up on his rider's *very bad mood* and, in the wake of Czarduinath's call decided that /this/ would be the perfect distraction. Therefor it is a wash of vivid red roses and warm breezes that sweeps out to fill the air with his response « Parties are a grand distraction, Czarduinath! A brillant idea, indeed.» Course, the considerably younger bronze is hot on Aedeluth's heels, swooping over the feeding pens before settling in his own preening perch. Meanwhile, just outside the bar, F'inn comes to an abrupt halt, looks up (at nothing) and abruptly sighs. "Are you /kidding/ me, Nym…."

Czarduinath's ego won't be at all inflated with how many foreign bronzes she's managed to attract, nah. She lets out a delighted croon as she wings over towards the pens and eyes the potential suitors party goers. « Rest assured, I'll have plenty more surprises up my sleeve. » Even though she doesn't have sleeves. But right now, metaphorical sleeves are completely forgotten as the smell of the pens reminds her of what her body needs. Table manners are for human parties. Czarduinath dives in on the largest ovine she can find and promptly starts guzzling. « But until then, cheers! You'll need it. » In the pillow fort, Aignes has finally got an inkling of what the bronzes already know and her yelp of "NOOOOO!" can probably be heard into the bowl itself. "This is not my idea of a pajama party, Czardi!" Despite the pajamas and the cookies. For the moment, she'll just stand there with book under her crossed arms. At least she can seek solace in the cookies even if it means there will be crumbs.

« Keep them coming then and I'll be ready! » Zekath would give a roguish grin if he could, but settles for the implication of one, as his mind wheels with a myriad of starts amidst the usually empty inky blackness of endless space. He'll join the other would-be party-goers by the pens and since Czarduinath has started the fun, dives right in as well. « Cheers! » Echoed back with a metallic-like laugh, he'll snag a prize beast of his own and finish it off with finesse and flare. Then it's all down to business (but still making it fun!), as he bloods and keeps an eye both on the green and the others who've answered her open invitation. K'vir's arrival to the cavern is delayed; it's difficult to get a sense of where to go when one's dragon is otherwise heavily occupied. That yelp was likely overheard by someone and that will likely trickle far enough for the bronzerider to figure out just where to go. Sorry, Aignes! No hiding for you and no private pajama party!

Aedeluth never has time for manners, and flights are no exception. He doesn't even have the decency to give his beloved lifemate the headsup that he probably should have. He just goes right on with the business of blooding his kill and eyeballing Czarduinath. Sev? He goes through a slew of emotions (SHOCK! DENIAL! RIGHTEOUS FURY!) as he makes a hasty retreat from wherever-he-was and heads for… he has no freakin' clue. This is not his home, and while logic might dictate he head for the pens, Aede at least clues him in to the distinct lack of dragonriders over there. So into the depths of the weyr's lower caverns he goes. But that's all the bronze has time for, sinking fangs into his beast and eyeballing the other bronzes with a mixture of disdain and boredom. A flicker of sardonic amusement echoes Czarduinath's words, but Aede is apparently the strong, silent type. Either that, or he feels no need to contribute verbally when his interested is so very evident in mind and posture.

Outside Shenigans, F'inn is dragging his hands through his hair, exhaling a litany of "No, no, no… Nym.. No…" That goes on and on and on as he engages in a not so silent of Battle of Wills with his bronze. He /looks/ like a crazy person, to be sure. So much so that more then a few of his avid admirers are rethinking their interest. Most of them, though? Smirking. Cause yeah, smirking is what you do. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Nymionth is not listening. Or rather he is, because he's to polite not to listen, but is not complying with F'inn's protests. That? That would be unforgivably rude and there is simply no chance of that happening. Besides, it's Czarduinath and it is his /duty/ to make sure that all the chasers play fair. That being the case, Nymionth is determined to play bouncer for Czarduinath's not so exclusive fete. The moment that Czarduinath begins blooding, F'inn drops his hands, pale blue eyes searching the living caverns only to find no Aignes to be found. The sigh of relief that escapes him? Born from the simple fact that she is like one of his /sisters/ and nothing more. And, while Nymionth is chosing his own meal, F'inn is beating a hasty retreat to the crafter's cavern. Moving with a sense of urgency, he speaks to no one, slipping into a familiar room and slamming the door behind him with a resound *BANG*. If it were baseball, he'd totally be sliding into Home plate.

"No boots in the fort!" Aignes declares even as she climbs higher on a princess and the pea style pillow throne, glaring at the bronzeriders. There's a basket somewhere with extra slippers if anybody is really going to comply with that, all in various cute and fuzzy animal shapes. « So nice of you all to join me, but time for hor d'oeuvres is over! » And with a flash of dark emerald wings, Czarduinath wastes no time proceeding on to the main event. The tiniest green might have sheer speed on her side, but she also has the heart of a showman and she'll make sure to sweep in a wide spiral, inviting all to this ball.

S'van takes it on faith that the other dragonriders heading deeper into the caverns *might* just know where they are going. Which means he's following them. He makes what turns out to be a great decision in choosing to follow K'vir (and not F'inn), which means he ends up in that forgotten pillow-room (and not stuck outside a slammed-shut door in the crafter cavern). He'll count his lucky stars later. For now, there's just a measure of short-lived relief before he's scowling and issuing a rather rough, "My boots are staying on my feet, thanks!" Because like heck is he parting ways with his footwear. *Yet*. Poor pillows; they're gonna get stomped on. And Aedeluth? Glittering eyes on the glittering green, blood racing down his chin with nary a care, he's ready to spring after her the moment that Czarduinath makes her move. He's after her in a flash, his typical wobble of a take-off smoothing out into a pointed chase after the spiraling green. And no worries here, Nymionth; Aedeluth is not the aggressive type — not without cause, at least. There will be no foul-play on the part of *this* bronze, unless another seeks to start that fight.

It's to be a dance, then? Zekath does love a good 'dance', just as much as he enjoys a good party! As much as he's all about work, drills and training and doing all that is expected of him, he's a bronze that understands the necessity of cutting loose once in awhile too! With a low growl, he flares his wings and leaps up into the air but not event remotely close to the speed that Czarduinath sets. Nothing to be concerned about! He'll leave her to be the star of the show, while he gains the height and momentum he needs to follow. K'vir has lived here most of his life and has NO excuse for getting lost or turned around! So it's no surprise that once he gets a hint, he knows just where to go. S'van is going to beat him there regardless (or maybe he was just being polite and leading the non-fortian to their destination), following a step behind the other bronzerider. "Oh, I remember this place!" he exclaims, upon realizing the pillow cavern IS in fact familiar. Which just makes this whole scenario more AWKWARD as his memories are when he was a child. Clearing his throat, K'vir blinks and turns his attention first to that throne of pillows and then Princess Aignes. Oh. "Um." Cue a crooked smile. "Hey." SMOOTH. K'vir is definitely not his father at least, except for slightly in some similarities in physical traits! S'van's remark about the boots have him frowning. "What's wrong with our boots? They're clean!" Kind of.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, F'inn puts his back to the door, exhaling a ragged breath as he slides down into a crouch against the wall. Sure, the room is cold and dark and lonely, but at the end of the day, while he may end up frustrated and less then comfortable? He'll still have a friend who does not need to feel uncomfortable around him. Cause really? THAT would be inevitable and he knows it. It's /AIGNES/ the queen of propriety. Unfortunately, he also entirely to aware of the fact that this is going to weigh heavily in a certain Brown Rider's divisive arguements, but there is little he can do about that. Instead, he wraps his arms loosely around his knees, balancing on his toes. For his part, Nymionth croons encouragement to Czarduinath, massive wings snapping out like a billowing cloak as he takes to the air in his own version of a Viennese waltz. « As graceful as they come, Czarduinath,» he calls in a warm wash of roses and sunlight. Of course, he's keeping an eye on those other males. They may be polite, but he's going to make sure, all the same. Meanwhile, he's looping and twirling in the air, the moonlight bringing the glowing gold that rarely shows itself in his hide.

Czarduinath may be the belle of her own ball, but she'll make sure to give each of her current beaus a share of the limelight as she flits closer to the males but not too close. Not just yet. « Here's where the steps get tricky! » And the music shifts from a waltz into a more romantic (and speedy!) pasadoble. Czardi flashes her wings and dips and dives, just begging those boys to follow. Aignes snorts from her tower or pillows. She needs something to help make up the height difference with those tall riders. "Have you looked at them? Of course your boots are dirty! That's why we have slippers. If you won't take them off, no cookies for you." Never mind the cookie crumbs are probably getting more mess in the blankets than any boots might. And as for F'inn's purposeful absence? She's too busy eyeing up the bronzeriders in front of her to care about her normal rules of propriety, but will probably be thankful for the absence in the morning.

"I don't want your cookies." Flat. Deadpan. But it comes with a flash of grey eyes that says rather clearly what it is that S'van does want. And no amount of chastising or fussing is going to keep him from it. Pillows? Squishy road-blocks that are easily trampled underfoot. Those boots are staying on, and the foreign bronzerider is making stompy-strides forward in an effort to close the gap between himself and Aignes. The absence of F'inn might not be noticed by Sev, but the presence of K'vir certainly is. But even if he recognizes him (because of course he does!) he doesn't acknowledge him. In the air, Aedeluth is definitely the odd man out. There's no dancing for him, not even the attempt at it, though a natural athleticism at least makes those twists and turns of his graceful to behold. But the foreign bronze has no time for waltzes — and they're not really his thing, either way. He ducks, and dives, and dips and spins in an effort to gain the advantage and close the gap. He is playing no games in the air, just as S'van is playing no games on the ground. They both mean to catch and claim, rather than dance and dally.

No tango? Zekath would be disappointed, if he even knew what a tango was! He's not all left-feet (wing?) in the air, however and when it comes to showing off a little? He's prepared! He won't outshine Czarduinath or most of his competition but he has moves and will use them appropriately. If she asks him to follow, the bronze will follow and gives her all the lead she wants — for now. He'll even give a few sly compliments to Czarduinath on just how skilled she is at 'hosting' this 'party'. Meanwhile, K'vir just looks perplexed at Aignes' comments on boots and the necessity for slippers. "… can we go without slippers?" Compromise! Right? Though from the way his expression shifts, the bronzerider has a lot more on his mind than footwear. In fact, something has him snickering soon enough, but he's still well enough in his senses not to go blurting out whatever it was. Probably something to do with how they'll have more than just no boots on in a moment… Then S'van is on the move and K'vir's not about to be left behind in the dust! Any recognition on his part will be saved for later (if ever acknowledged) and likewise, F'inn's absence is not noted as he's beyond the ability to count and realize there are missing players in this game.

Pasadoble is nice, but Nymionth? More of a cha-cha male. Still, he takes the cue, those exceptionally, and perhaps shockingly wide wings, flairing dramatically in all the right places as he matches Czarduinath's moves. Of course, Nymionth being Nymionth, fills the air with an impossibly comforting warmth and the scent of roses. How can he not? It's simply his nature. Still, those wings are snapping and flashing in a fashion that makes it abundantly clear the younger bronze cuts a mean rug, even if he's dancing solo for the moment. Granted, the first opportunity he gets he's going to do his damnedest to scoop her up into an Argentine Tango, which is, by far, the sexiest of dances, thank you very much. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qvnei5JKGVs) And hey, old man, a little dancing and dallying makes catching all the sweeter, thank you very much. In his neatly sealed room, F'inn is doing his level best to ignore the desire to move on in search of Aignes. He does, however, surge to his feet, pull open the door and stare into the hallway. For a moment, he starts to step out, in an odd mimicry of the moves occuring out of sight. He's nothing if not steadfast, though, and tosses the notion away like a dance partner sent spinning as he turns sharply on his heel and slams the door behind him.

It only takes two to tango, so while Czarduinath was doing her best to delay that inevitable outcome, all the fancy spiraling, dipping and diving is rapidly eating away at any remaining stamina the dainty green has, but she'll put on one more burst of speed. « Now's your last chance. Impress me! » And maybe, just maybe she'll decide they're just perfect for each other. Or not and tired wings will find her caught regardless of whatever her plans might be. Aignes laughs at S'van's deadpan. "Ohh, I think you want much more than my cookies…" And as for K'vir, she nods. She'll allow without the slippers. There's going to be a lot more than slippers missing soon.

The grin that pulls at S'van's mouth is anything but amused. But it *is* in agreement. He definitely wants much more than Aignes' cookies. And he's apparently bound and determined to get it. If just because Aedeluth is bound and determined to get Czarduinath. Impress her? Pft. He's not the type to flex his muscles and bat his eyes in an attempt to woo a pretty girl. When he wants something, he just goes after it. Which is exactly what he's doing, a sudden flash of wings as he makes a move to catch Czarduinath even if it means his steps are out of time with the music. Who needs rhythm when Aedeluth has raw power?

Zekath would definitely concur with Nymionth on that form of dancing but as for who will be scooping up Czarduinath? Well, it's clear that he intends to outlast and outmaneuver them all for that victory! He can see when the final number is coming up and, tapping into his reserves, the bronze will surge forwards in hopes of meeting her at just the right moment! Now will be the time to prove to her that he has more than flashy dance moves. There's a good dose of reach and flexibility in there too! « It gets even better than that! » He promises in a voice oddly low and flanged, almost growled — there's that implied roguish grin again too, as he forges on and leaves it to fate to decide if he's successful or not. K'vir can't help but laugh for Aignes' remark, grinning wryly and far more relaxed than he was a moment ago. Partly in thanks to a certain bronze and various hormones, but there it is! "Guess you caught me!" His hands spread out helplessly next and he forgets about boots and slippers and cookies. Those blue eyes of his are focused only on Aignes and he'll take another step forwards.

It only takes two to tango and Nymionth and Nymionth is delighted to demonstrate that he's got skills for days. When Aedeluth surges forward, Nymionth spins in midair, his wing sails billowing dramatically in a move that somehow resembles a matador evading a charging bull. Raw power is grand, that much he will allow, but there is something for the inviting grace of a pair of rose-scented wings stretching out to steal one away from the world around them. Nymionth, there will never be a time when he feels surging is the appropriate option, and so, while others opt for a more aggressive stance, he extends his invitation, fully prepared to sweep up Czarduinath should she spin his way. In another room, in another part of the weyr, F'inn surges to his feet, tension singing along his frame as he takes a few steps toward the door. Rather then open it, however, he braces both hands flat against cool wood, his arms flexing as if he were literally holding back a horde beating at the gates.

It does get better, but not for Zekath. Czarduinath dances just out of wingreach of the visiting bronze. And raw power might win some hearts flights, but overshoots the mark in this case. The capelike wings of the youngest bronze are what manage to finally ensnare the now plummeting green. Poor Aignes won't be finding F'inn thanks to that stupid door, but that's fine. Her laugh turns into a near growl at the mention of catching. "Caught you indeed!" She reaches out to grab K'vir's hand and S'van's as well. Looks like everybody will be sharing some of her 'cookies' at this pajama party.

Nymionth is all to happy to wrap Czarduinath up in those massive wings. Almost immediately the pair are engulfed in a shower of rose petals and sunlight that obscures them from view. I mean really? Of course he won, who could possibly resist the Prince of Earth? In his self-imposed prison, F'inn releases a growl that oddly matches that of Aignes— despite the fact that he cannot hear it. Frustration is a mighty beast. Mighty enough that before he finally has himself back together and can leave? That room is going to be THRASHED. Course, little does he know that he'll have a heaping measure of guilt laddled into his mix in the aftermath. Women, you just can't please them. True Stuff.

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