Chase the Wind (3/3)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Iluva
Date Posted: 5th August 2024
Characters: L'kav
Description: L'kav's green Feyonth rises and is (un)expectedly caught
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 13, day 24 of Turn 11
As she crested a peak, she appeared to pause, suspended in a rather sinuous arc, melding with the muted tapestry of the sky. She'd flown far and fast. Her wings were dangerously aflame in such cool thin air. And there, below, beneath the blaze of suitors, she noticed how the world had diffused out into quiet and remote, green valleys and grey skies. For a handful of times every Turn, all of Pern lay like this, mere wingbeats away. If only exhaustion wasn't cutting through the blood; she'd fly like this forever!
And yet, with a Wing of so many fine males in tow she found she didn't really want to.
Imalkyth. Now he was an alluring brown, and surely better suited to her ledge than Anaeryth's, as no doubt he was overshadowed or pushed aside. Napeth's ferocity colored her every bit intrigued (and needing, and even slightly _nervous_), his temperament already mirroring so much of her own fire. And then, handsome Kadeth. He was closest to her in size, the most capable of matching her tight twists in the air, if he twisted the right way. But could he actually handle her?
Thrillingly, in all of them, there were no grounds for disappointment.
Pesrath - of course - caught her eye more than a few times, so often she stopped trying to blame L'kav and the way he was still staring at M'yvak. She even crooned alluringly to him, to Sebeth and Calcifeth as well, willing to reveal that part of her hand-- that their words had stirred something in her. That she liked that. Not because she was in need of words, but that she wanted them to reach for her in every way. Giving it their all made her want to give them (that one worthy _him_) all of her.
And as the air began to shift again, she was done with being coy.
She had a clear shot to a cluster of blues, but Imalkyth - flashing in her periphery - had her veering to the other side to avoid the bite of the cliffs. Her attempts to pull up, out, nearly had her careening straight into Arinoth (which evidently wouldn't be the worst thing), but she lost sight of him, forced to overcorrect against Roquath's sudden bulk.
Her flying grew desperate as wingtips clipped hers, diving narrowly between two browns. The rush sent her snarling, ricocheting about, losing all sense of up or down, her body dazzlingly alight with rage, dread, joy, desire. }: Ooh nice try! :{
Oh yes, Roquath did fly beautifully, powerfully. The kind she knew she wouldn't regret-- but what if he'd judged her an easy catch? What if he simply chased so often that only impulse and instinct barrelled behind her?
She sought a match, an _equal_. She wouldn't accept anything less. She pulled away, ahead, and called sultrily to Calcifeth, }: Yes, darling, you and I! Together we'll flame the wind! :{
And then - there - on the ground, in the most impossible and unwanted way, her rider's eyes flashfired into focus. Everything was a hot and hard thrum of defiance against the world, against the air and sky, somehow all shuttering down into sudden sounds and movements-- an insistence, he realized belatedly, for a space L'kav had long left behind, far back in a realm with thinking, without so much of this _need_.
He blinked at E'kavas, and the words, the rush of River Bluff that came with him. Feyonth was there, for how _dare_ anyone resist, retreat, reject _her_?! The brownrider's raised hands drew out all of her rage, firing along L'kav's every impulse to do the opposite-- reach out and grab; vehemently correct any notion of _who_ got to demand space here, she spiraling toward Calcifeth like Thread was on her tail.
He breathed E'kavas and H'run in in unison, transfixed as they growled past Roquath yet _again_. The images were intense, too much, too fast, and it was getting difficult to resist much of anything - and yet 'Gentleman' still lodged there, somewhere, like it was important and trying to form sense in his head, and it only made him angrier and she harder to resist and maybe L'kav understood that word after all because his own thick voice was now coursing the air, assuring him, them, everyone, "I'm not."
And sure enough, like _he_ knew before his dragon did, a flash of mahogany and his shirt was gone. All space was gone. Language, words, destroyed. L'kav felt Feyonth's surprised protest in his throat, how she tried to turn a strangely vulnerable and delicate yelp into vicious demand. But the image of her chosen blue was gone. Lost the moment Roquath's wings slid hard and flush against her, gripping with the superior strength to guide them home. The truth was she hardly fought him and by the time they were perfectly entwined the only protests were on the ground, against every inconvenience of clothing.
Last updated on the August 29th 2024