The Sunset Flight (2/4)

Writers: Avery, Corrin, Duskdog, Halyonix, Heather, Iluva, Sia, Steel, Suzee
Date Posted: 26th November 2025

Characters: Saibra, R'enh, I'serin, Y'dran, E'kavas, Rh'din, M'kayre, T'lonas, K'valdran, M'thos, T'mhas, M'rhas, E'kirim, L'val, R'kesha, Tamerel, L'set
Description: Chioneth rises to determine DFW’s Weyrleader
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 13, day 2 of Turn 12
Notes: Weather - Cloudy 67 F / 19 C

Saibra

Saibra jerked upright as Chioneth’s sleep dissipated and a gnawing, wild hunger replaced the idyllic peace from moments before.

Surging to her full height, the senior queen shrieked a hair-raising challenge to the Weyr, the echo reverberating through triple cliffs. Unfurling her wings, Chioneth shot to the feeding pens like an arrow, sending the herdbeasts scattering in panic as she snatched the nearest up in her talons.

R’enh had been just about to head to the dining room to pick up food when he felt Mnoranth’s spike of desire and simply turned on his heel to head toward the pens. He knew, as he always knew when Chioneth was going to fly. His lifemate wasn't in the peak of health, but he was very close and very determined.

“Integrating two Weyrs is a mighty endeavor. Your predecessor did his best, I’m sure. As have you,” L’set stated with no admiration to his tone. “Though, at some point, a Weyr has to elevate, leverage its new strength into something more. I can see that Dragonsfall is on the cusp of that moment, and I’d like to be a part of it.” But L’set didn’t want to be just a minor part of it -- he wanted to be at the spearhead of it.

I’serin looked down at the dossier that held L’set’s background and achievements. On paper, the bronzerider looked to be a great addition to the Weyr. He would most likely rise to Wingleader within a Turn or two. Yet, I’serin could not shake this gut feeling that--

Aluneth’s thundering roar of challenge abruptly knocked him out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped up towards his lifemate, confusion furrowing his brow, before realization sunk in. “This interview is concluded,” I’serin said sharply and dismissively. “You and Proth should depart--”

A slow, lazy, conniving smile spread on L’set’s face. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be dislodging Proth from his spot right now.” He rose, that smile wicked as he looked at the younger rider with open ambition. “Good luck, _Weyrleader_. You’ll need it.”

Shells and shards, Y’dran cursed inwardly. “I have to run, sorry. The senior queen…” He had to get to Seriaeth and get out before…

“I think that’s a little too late,” his friend said, pointing up at the honeyed bronze, who was weaving his head sinuously side to side, watching Chioneth intently. “May as well let him fly a bit, Y’dran. Get it out of his system.”

The bronzerider couldn’t really argue that, especially when he could feel that Seriaeth wasn’t going to budge without a fight. **Don’t you dare catch her, Seri, don’t you dare!** Y’dran thought fiercely. Of all days to be visiting!

Roquath rumbled an answer so not to hurt little ears and slowly shook the boy from his back. Chioneth was right on time, and he was freshly oiled and _ready_. The wingsail wax was even the speedy kind, or so the littles told him. He spread his wings and took off towards the feeding pens.

**Paskith. Paskith, no.** Rh'din had _just_ finished eating and was headed back out to his blue to go lounge in their weyr when he sensed the blue's intent.

Why? Why did Paskith choose _now_ to suddenly take an interest? That…

**Paskith, that's _Chioneth_!**

}: And she is beautiful.:{ Paskith agreed. Rh'din groaned. Oh _no_.

Bhelth roared in response to Aluneth’s challenge, and M’kayre’s head jerked up. As exciting as the prospect of a Weyrleadership-determining flight was, going from peaceful contentment to posturing lust in an instant was whiplash-inducing, and he almost regretted the interruption.

Almost.

T’lonas, too, looked up as he felt the sudden rise of desire in Domorth. It was unmistakable in its intensity -- not just some green, but almost certainly Chioneth. Well. This certainly altered the course of his evening.

“I am trusting you,” he said, as he got up and put his work away on the large desk at the front of the room, “to finish your task unsupervised. Have it on my desk by the time I’m back, please.”

“Yessir,” the weyrling promised… but the instant T’lonas was gone, he was sneaking out the door.

K’valdran didn’t flinch as Karcalanth joined the cacophony, his bellow rolling through the Weyr like thunder shaking the stone. The sound reverberated deep in K’valdran’s chest, stirring a fierce, answering thrill that made his pulse leap. He wanted to roar too-- to throw back his head and announce his intent to the world.

The queen’s influence swept over them, a familiar fiery caress. They were on the precipice of change. Before nightfall, she would be chased, she would be flown, and if K’valdran had anything to say about it-- it would be by him.

He shared a glance with R’kesha, clasping him briefly by the shoulder, and then he was off, hurrying to the flightroom as Karcalanth went to blood.

Playtime halted almost immediately. Obrianth banked to the left and circled away at Chioneth's shriek, heading to meet her at the feeding pens. It took Norrianth an extra minute longer to realize that he was no longer being chased, and another minute to understand _why_, before he dipped off after them.

**Norri, that is your _mother_.** E'kirim said, a little teasing but mostly exasperated.

Norrianth considered that. That word was strange, the feeling so decidedly human, that he didn't bother much with it. }: Wanna see. :{ He rumbled instead.

Despite the best efforts to keep his shield, enough excitement could break it. Pain. Fear. Anger. Desire. From his own dragon... From others. When it was the senior queen's scream of desire ripping across the Weyr... when from the throats of many bronzes came answering calls... even if L'val had ridden no dragon at all, he would have felt it pulse through him, causing him to tremble at the knees. With his bond with Kyverth, it felt compressed to a more bearable point.

He regretted seeking distance from all the crowding dragons as he realized he was atop the plateau and Kyverth was already blooding a wherry - then realized that was what weyrlings and riders on elevator duty were for, and a quick mental call and a verbalized apology later, and a pair deposited him right in front of the flight cots so he didn't even have to rush to meet the others there.

Tamerel had been paling under the pressure, practically wan. The decisions swam before his eyes, the options suddenly trying to hide themselves. His sun-reddened mop of curls turned, staring his fathers down pleadingly, as if their silence meant something crucial here. It was a big deal to beat any older brother at anything. It didn’t happen everyday. His blue eyes went absolutely huge.

T’mhas shifted, dragging the six-turn old over by the back of his shirt. “C’mere,” he grinned, and whispered a few suggestions into his eager ear. Tamerel bit his lip, nodded.

“Dad, would you quit helping him?” M’rhas grumbled. “He takes twice as long when you do that.”

“Do not!” Tamerel huffed.

A slow arch of a thick brow, T’mhas’ tone was perfectly mild. “He’s six, M’rhas.”

“Yeah, and I'm almost seve-” the boy would have gotten all those proud words out -- if not for Chioneth.

"Go. I'll take your turn. You were in the lead anyway." M'thos said, much to the protestations of the boys.

For a moment, it was all blood and lust and a burst of gold ripping through their link as Ghraisath came smacking down on top of a flailing herdbeast. He drained it with such brutal speed and myopic intent that he already had another buck hooked in his talons before T'mhas had his boots laced. They would be in the air before the Weyr had a chance to breathe. By the end of the day Dragonsfall’s fate would be sealed.

“I’ll be back later-- after bedtime. Make sure you brush your teeth, kiddo.” A swift kiss pressed to the top of Tamerel’s curly head, and T’mhas rounded on his mate. Lust and adrenaline had already twisted in his veins, in his smile as he caught M’thos’ cheek in his hand.

“I love you. I'll be back just as soon as Ghraisath’s out.” A wink, the unremarkable blue of Tam's eyes suddenly dazzling, darkened, and then he was out the door, propelled by Ghraisath's rabid roar. The implication roused furious indignation, but even so T'mhas was smiling.

The skies above would still be their skies. No matter what happened. No matter who Chioneth chose. Those skies would be theirs. Flown daily, guarded fiercely. They'd grown up under them, flown in, bled for. The skies of everyone he loved.

The chaser ring was thick with bodies and Ghraisath's lust hit like a blow-- uncompromising, relentless, swallowing thought. T’mhas’ long shadow slid ahead and through the circle, picking out familiar faces, catching sight of a few riders he really hadn't expected. It hardly mattered. T’mhas met them each with the same fiery smile, its wolfishness sharpening like a blade the longer Ghraisath gulped fuel.

Last updated on the November 28th 2025

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The Sunset Flight (2/4)