The Rising Sun

Writers: Corrin, Devin, Duskdog, Heather, Iluva, Sia, Yvonne
Date Posted: 3rd May 2025

Characters: Thiseta, F'lin, Q'vettan, T'mhas, D'ren, K'lvin, D'kere, Teigan, Rasme, K'vrogin, O'tredel
Description: Imbeth rises, and Barrier Lake has a new Weyrleader.
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 6, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Congratulations to our new BLW Weyrleader, and a big thank you to all who participated. :)
Mentioned: Kapera, Talwynn, M'thos

Q'vettan

T'mhas

Teigan

Rasme

}:Imbeth is rising.:{

Seneth’s voice cut through F’lin’s usual morning fog. The bronzerider froze with his cup of klah half ways to his lips. Imbeth rising meant that Thiseta was Barrier Lake’s Weyrwoman, and a new Weyrleader would be chosen by noon.

**I’m ready.** He rose just as a hush ran through the dining hall. Several other dragonriders stilled as they spoke to their dragons. Then the hall buzzed to life with a cacophony of excited voices.

As the mood in the dining hall swelled with enthusiasm, it swelled in O’tredel, too -- bolstered, of course, by the rise of ardent interest in Galduinth in the same moment. Chasing the newly-minted senior queen was a point of pride, of course, but Weyrleadership or no, there was nothing that beat the electric anticipation of a goldflight or the surge of excited passion that spread warmly through his body even as he drained the last of his klah and stood. In some ways, he never felt so much like _himself_ than he did when there was a gold to chase and it was socially-acceptable to be full to the brim with _feeling_.

}:Hurry!:{ Galduinth urged, his mindvoice practically bubbling with joy. The bronze and his rider were very much of one mind when it came to _this_.

D’ren dropped his fork as the dragonlust hit him. A Queen Rising meant . . . **I’m not ready.**

}:_I_ am,:{ Menanth insisted. }:I will make Imbeth mine. I will make Barrier Lake mine. I will finally lead.:{

D’ren sat with indecision as the dining hall buzzed and bronzeriders rushed outside. He could take Menanth away. D’ren did _not_ want to be Weyrleader.

}:Please do not take this from me,:{ Menanth said.

With his heart in his throat, D’ren rose and headed for the door.

**Out of the Weyr, Xmrenth. Now.** K’lvin said in his _most authoritative_ tone. Which was apparently _not_ very authoritative in his bronze’s opinion because the big brute simply remained fixed in place.

}:I am going to fly after Imbeth and catch her. She is glorious and deserves a strong bronze such as myself.:{ Xmrenth shrugged his shoulder flanks, nearly unseating his rider.

K’lvin sighed and rolled his eyes, but jumped down and removed his lifemate’s riding straps. **If you catch her, I’ll never hear the end of it from Teigan.**

}:You deal with your clutchmate, and I’ll deal with the queen.:{ Xmrenth said before launching from their weyrledge.

When word began spreading that Imbeth was rising, D’kere’s eyelids slid shut as a wave of sadness and grief washed over him. Kapera was his Weyrwoman, had been since the day she asked him to be her Wingsecond. Now, with another gold rising, her reign was officially over. It made him feel sick.

}:Riyanth would want a strong Weyr. We must continue,:{ Kenirath insisted. }:Prepare yourself. I will chase.:{ The bronze was exactly the right age and experience to catch a senior queen, but D’kere certainly didn’t want it.

“I’ll be back later,” he told Talwynn, pressing a kiss into her hair as he strolled from his weyr.

Up in his weyr, Q'vettan didn't hear the shift in the Weyr right away. A simple breakfast with warm klah sat mostly untouched at his desk, along with a half-finished ledger from the night before that would now need to wait for the new Weyrleader. Violin cradled on his shoulder, bow drifting in long strokes across the strings. The melody was soft, private, something half formed for turns.

Tzenketh's awareness of the situation outside rippled across their bond, distant and vague. The bronze's sun-warmed hide gleamed faintly green in the morning light, curled in his usual indolent sprawl on the high ledge.Thrice-lidded eyes blinked awake momentarily, observing the situation, before settling back down again.

The bow stilled. Q'vettan narrowed his eyes. Imbeth flying meant power was in motion, and he had no intention of being left behind.

**Get up.**

}: So much work :{

**Get. Up.**

A guttural groan echoed in the back of his mind as Tzenketh stretched like a lazy feline, unfurling his wings and shaking himself awake. Shifting back onto his great haunches, he launched into the air, wings cracking the wind with an unhurried, thunderous grace.

Q'vettan watched him go before turning to put the violin back in its case. The precipice before a Weyrleader Flight was the calm before a storm, the moment before a predator leapt to strike. Every move counted, and Q'vettan chose to take his time. A quiet reminder that he was in control.

Imbeth’s roars echoed through the Weyr as K’vrogin dashed into the flight room where Thiseta waited.

Thiseta.

Their new Weyrwoman. Of the three goldriders that had recently come to Barrier Lake, she had seemed the least memorable to K’vrogin. He preferred Aydhan with her fine dresses and flirtatious smile, Agyta with her striking intensity. Thiseta was plain in comparison.

But now, now those eyes seemed less akin to the color of mud--an unflattering likeness that a friend had pointed out over beer--and more like dark, limpid pools he wanted to lose himself in. Her short brown hair and excellent posture were suddenly the hottest things he had ever seen. That was the flight lust at work. Both the ineffable force of a rising gold, and the answering passion stoked in Valadarth, sent K’vrogin over the edge of reason. He prowled the edge of the chamber, eyeing the woman hungrily as he urged his bronze on.

Down in the infirmary, word was spreading like wildfire about the flurry of activity going on outside. Teigan was rooted in place, his hands poised over the wound that he was bandaging. **Imbeth is rising… first.** He wasn’t a dragonrider, but he knew what that meant. His weyrmate was now _the_ Weyrwoman. He forced himself to exhale slowly and calm the sudden rush of nerves in his stomach. He had a patient to care for, after all. He silently wished his weyrmate good luck and then continued his work.

From her weyrledge, Piketh lounged languidly, her eyes whirling with lazy interest as she watched Imbeth. Long gone were the days when Piketh rose. So long that she didn’t even remember what it felt like to crush a herdbeast between her teeth as she drained it of its hot, steaming blood.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Rasme commented, walking out and leaning against her golden lifemate’s hide. “It’s going to be Thiseta. Ashes, I wagered on it being Aydhan.”

“You know what that means, my love,” a voice said just over her shoulder, arms sliding around her waist. “I win the bet.” It was C’ris, of course.

“Fine.” Rasme sighed. “Get the rubbing oils.” She began rolling her sleeves back to her elbows before following the bluerider inside her weyr.

Master Jushar had not intended to dilly or dally, and he couldn't have known that the building excitement wriggling in the air wasn’t just his own. As he squinted against the mid-morning brightness- believing the Weyr merely echoed his delight- he was, in fact, doing both.

A fine wherhide instrument case was tucked protectively under his lanky arm, and a rather dreamy look softened his features. He’d already been in a good mood before leaving Dragonsfall, and T’mhas grinned at the sight of the Harper admiring the elaborate setup of the crafters’ village, stalled halfway down Ghraisath’s foreleg. Even from this distance, he could practically read the song forming on the man’s lips.

“A fine day for a visit,” T’mhas said, offering a big hand as the Harper approached.

Jushar gripped it- not out of fear or unfamiliarity, but because dropping that case would ruin his entire Turn.

“Hard to believe this place has seen such tragedy when it shines like this,” Jushar mused. “Isn’t it?”

T’mhas snorted, lacking the same sentimentality. “Ain’t hard at all. Hurricanes roll up white sand beaches all the time.”

The Master Harper pulled a face and hesitated at the sudden drop from the bronze’s paw to the ground. “You are a ray of sunshine, bronzerider.”

T’mhas flashed a wide, toothy smile. “I do my best.” Truthfully, M’thos would’ve been the better choice for this transport. But M’thos was also the best choice to wrangle the Weyrlings, and he’d been doing more wrangling than ever these days. It was still hard for them to get away together sometimes. “Not tryin’ to dull the shine, but nature don’t care how pretty you are.”

Then-

A sharp sound. A soft wave. Jushar turned to look, but T’mhas didn’t. The feeling bloomed fast, faster than usual- the lure and the challenge kindling more than just biological need in his dragon. Ghraisath’s wings flared, eyes locked on her.

**You bloody bastard, don’t you _dare_.** T’mhas was already grabbing the Harper and yanking him down before he could be violently thrown. No sooner had Jushar stumbled across the ground, clutching the case like it held his very life, than Ghraisath launched skyward, bronze bright and blazing as he streaked toward the Southern Continent’s newest Senior Queen.

**Flame the first egg, if you catch her, you’ll be the only one livin’ here.**

It was a long shot, but it still twisted in his gut. He watched, stunned and furious. Jushar was saying something, but T’mhas didn’t hear him. He just turned and left, praying his bronze fell out early, praying their entire lives hadn’t just been rewritten by his stupid dragon’s reckless, radiant flight.

Far above, near the Star Stones, Imbeth watched the Weyr scurry to life. She could feel Thiseta below, near the flight cots, but it was becoming easier and easier to ignore her shrill human voice. The rising queen turned her golden head toward the bronze that had perched nearest and hissed. He was too close, too clumsy. She would leave him behind. It was time to fly.

Imbeth snapped her wings open and dived from the cliffside. Gravity lent her speed. She flared her wings near the ground and soared, quick as lightning, over her tiny rider and beyond to where the herdbeasts ran in terror from her shadow. The morning sun was hot on her back as she called to her suitors. }:Come catch me!:{

}:I come!:{ Valadarth answered with a roar that shook the air, a fervid promise of pursuit. The bronze launched himself skyward. He was sleek for his color, all muscle and momentum. There was no hesitation, only the drive to win, to claim, to catch.

Galduinth’s response was a bugle, infused with as much enthusiasm now as it had been turns ago when he was straight out of weyrling training. Some things just never got old. He leapt from the rim and dove after her, morning sun glinting off the bright brassy sheen of his wings.

And then came Tzenketh. He did not bellow, did not roar. He chased. He was limber compared to many bronzes, and followed Imbeth easily down and up again, his great wings causing gusts of wind down across the weyrbowl. Imbeth was fast-- she would burn bright and high, try to outpace them all. He will allow her that, for a while.

Menanth’s gaze sought any hint of Imbeth’s glowing amber hide as he struggled among the tightest pack of her chasers. }:Choose me, most glorious Imbeth. We will lead this Weyr well, you and I.:{

Imbeth turned on a wingtip as the sparkle of sunlight on water caught her eye. She raced a tail length ahead of the flight of bronzes behind her toward the lake, gaining elevation with each powerful beat of her wings. Sunlight sizzled along her hide as she inhaled the scent of water, dragonmusk and blood. She was light and fast and strong, so she tucked her wings to roll for the joy of it, tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

Valadarth twisted to match her. He didn’t chase blindly-- he hunted. He gauged the tilt of her wingsails, the tension in her tail, and adjusted his flight accordingly. Every beat of his wings ate at the distance between them.

Her twisting and turning threw some of the bronzes off. The old and injured fell away, and Menanth found his chance. He shot forward, gaining on the Queen, and now he could see her clearly. }:I am young and strong! We will have many eggs, Imbeth.:{

So sure of themselves, these bronzes. Usually Imbeth had no time for them, but today she couldn't get enough of the way they flew and their flirtatious calls. Reflected sunlight dappled her belly as she streaked over the lake to see who would follow.

A prolific and eager chaser, Ghraisath wasn’t playing games today. This was no gamble, no passing whim, no dutiful appearance. It was his born purpose as a bronze made flesh and fire. To catch, to sire, to join with a queen worthy of him. This was a flight of heart and grit and need, as if the whole world hung in the balance. A Weyr to command, offspring carrying his blood skyward, a name to etch into the records as well as the skies. That was the prize he chased. Pleasure was more an afterthought, though Imbeth _was_ beautiful, and so was he. His hide flared in the sunlight like a red dwarf star, searing the air for her gaze, inviting her to note his finest angles- then remembering, smugly, that he had no bad side, Ghraisath rolled with her in perfect harmony, a fiery shadow in her wake.

Tzenketh admired the sunlight dancing across her golden hide, dazzling and wild. She was bold, playful in her defiance. He relayed the scene down to Q'vettan, even though man and beast had long since merged and his rider could see and feel as plainly as he did. He climbed after her, the lake quickly growing smaller beneath them. A long fall would be coming for her, and he relished the thought of being the one to take her home.

Imbeth wrenched her wings and threw her strength into keeping free of grasping claws. The skies were still hers! She began to ascend and the Weyr dwindled beneath them into a bright smear against the blue of the lake and green of the fields, her muscles burning and her breath coming short in the thin, cold air.

Galduinth climbed after her, excitement building as he anticipated the flight soon coming to an end. Catch her high, twine and fall far, and the clutch would be beautiful -- particularly with a handsome and skilled bronze such as himself. (It was self-evident, of course.)

Xmrenth, wise and experienced, steered along behind Imbeth, anticipating her moves. He did not try to win her with words. He had already noted from their meeting before that she did not care for conversation. He would win her with skill and strength. He still had plenty of both.

}:Here, Imbeth, with me:{ Kenirath watching as Imbeth swerved around some of the _lesser_ bronzes, as he thought of them. He was easily the largest bronze in the field, and his winning promised the gold a glorious clutch.

Tzenketh did not speak, but bellowed instead, startling a younger bronze that had tried to pass him. They would not have her. Others were larger, but what he lacked in size he made up for in speed and agility. He could fly circles around Kenirath, and later he _might_, just to show he could. He caught the wind expertly in his sails and barreled after her.

}:Imbeth,:{ Ghraisath called with such weighted certainty and affection it felt as though he’d caught her countless times before. }:It’s you and me.:{ Yet he wanted her with the same primal drive to annihilate Thread, to slam and snarl, swipe and shove aside the few who still dared fly too close. }:What do you think? It's time we made this Weyr _ours_.:{

And despite the fury, T’mhas felt it, deep and inescapable. Ghraisath’s conviction pierced his core, stripping away everything else: his name, his past, his home, all of him falling away to the magnitude of his dragon’s intent. What hadn’t already slipped through his fingers was now being forcibly swept away and none of it was a choice, his, Ghraisath’s, Imbeth’s. It was delicious and maddening and all just a trembling crescendo of fate.

But Ghraisath would not leave it to fate.

He was close - so close. She’d had her fill of fun, finally, and he wouldn’t allow any more space between them, any rivals to edge ahead. Banking hard, Ghraisath saw his opening and launched, her presence blazing whitehot in his senses.

Imbeth wrenched her wings to avoid Ghraisath-- it was too glorious to fly and she had no desire to be caught! But in avoiding one suitor she was ensnared by another, and together she and Tzenketh tumbled through the skies like falling stars.

Last updated on the May 23rd 2025

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The Rising Sun