(Kohath) Ysaeth is drawn instantly to the glowing queen, and slowly 
uncurls himself, one muscle at a time.  One claw reaches out to scratch 
at the ground, anxious, but unwilling to show it in any other way.  
Tongue flicks out to taste the hot air.  Ah.
(Kohath) Kohath dips into a sudden pouncing crouch, wings sweeping back 
to folded ailerons as stubby tail lashes across the hard-packed, sandy 
earth. Now /this/ is interesting. a guttural hiss emerges playfully from 
his throat; this is one game of tag he doesn't intend to miss.
(Kohath) Aeoliath throws back his head, suddenly bourne to stand in an 
instant of alert and fire. /Roar/ing the alarm before he knows quite the 
reason, he jumps to the gold's call, violent with the tremble of her 
empathic awakening. He launches after. Dare any of them come near to 
harm her.
Eos treks toward NorthWest Bowl.
Lynnea all but stamps her foot in frustration, "What is it lately that 
whenever a pretty girl starts getting interested in me they run away?"
Ayana glances watching the weyrwoman...."I'm still here."  Her eyes 
follow the weyrwoman out the cavern.
G'tar walks toward NorthWest Bowl.
R'il snaps to attention at Ysaeth's warning.  "Yas," he almost groans, 
pushing away from his seat, standing and heading out.
R'il walks toward NorthWest Bowl.
Lynnea sticks her tongue out at Ayana, "You're taken, remember?"
K'den's attention is studiously elsewhere for the moment. "Uh... I'd.. 
better be going too..." mug set down forgotten from limp fingers, he 
dashes outside.

NorthWest Bowl
The following dragons are here: Spectreth, Delennth, Sivadath, Nevanth, 
 Aeoliath, Murath, Ysaeth, Kohath, and Pralanth.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Ropes.
You see Paint here.
Eos, G'tar, and R'il are here.
Feyena, Mel, and Leigha are asleep here.
From here you can go:
Living Cavern             Infirmary                  Center Bowl               
Guest Weyr                Stairs Up                  Weyr Entrance  
           
Sivadath is hardly the lovable, amiable queen most know her as - that 
would be too easy, too simple to escape by; tarnished bronze hide 
radiates, more and more, as her taunting call is given once more, 
questioning eyes turned towards her would-be suitors. 
K'den stumbles out, expression twisted oddly as he tries to make some 
sense of what Kohath is pounding into his head. The brown, for his part, 
has amethyst eyes fixed solely on his golden clutchmate, shoulders 
wriggling with eager anticipation as he bugles tenor response.
Eos comes to a skidding, /sudden/ stop, arms smacked against her chest 
as she observes the tumultuous nature of her queen. "/Sivadath/!" Her 
voice rings, crystal clear, through the scalding heat. "Now is not the 
time to act up, you're not rising now, you're not." Denial, the easiest 
escape.
R'il emerges, only to stare at his own over-eager lifemate.  "Oh, 
brother," he mutters under his breath as the bronze gets to his feet and 
carefully stretches out his wings.  "Of all the things to take 
/seriously/, Yas," he bemoans, leaning against the stone of the Weyr for 
support.
G'tar leans against the nearest bronze toe, clawed in dangerous ebon, 
scimitar-sharp and spicular. The laugh he no longer hides, no longer 
tries to harper away, so given to the lust of his own dragon and out of 
character he, splatters upon the bowl unchecked. "You don't really have 
a choice, my dear goldrider."One glance at R'il, another at K'den. "Look 
at them. They feel it, too."
A bugle is heard as Brianth is arroused by excited dragons and noises. 
Brianth heaves himself onto his hind legs and his powerful bronzen wings 
churn the wind. Anticipation fills his call as swirling eyes focus on 
Sivadath. Eager he settles back down, humming and a variety of other 
noises emit from his throat.
Aeoliath crouches, guard to the one who's rum-soft glow burnishes the 
sun, burns the light of day to diminished servitude. He rousts a 
deepening rumble from within the center of soul. Go ahead. Make my day.
Icicleth has arrived.
Icicleth pops in from ::between::
Eos's spine cringes at G'tar's words, lithe frame all but crunched 
together as she watches her queen: glowing, glowing, glowing, Sivadath 
is hardly the inquisitive creature she impressed a mere two turns ago. 
"Sivadath, please" she murmurs, nails clenched firmly into her fist as 
she glances towards the men about her; emotion fluctuate, the lust 
prevails. "We'll just see, darlings, if you can catch me /and/ her."
R'il most certainly feels it, eyes closing as he tries to hear over the 
ever-faster beating of his heart.  And over Ysaeth's self-peptalk.  The 
bronze carefully stretches each limb, one by one, and every swings his 
tail around a few times.  All limbered up, yup yup.  Whirling eyes 
fasten on the queen, wanting only for her to rise.
K'den clenches his teeth against a sharp hiss of expulsed breath as he 
shuffles to reach blindly for his lifemate's hide. Grounding, perhaps, 
in reality; not that Kohath makes the best anchor at the moment. He nods 
in silent response to draconic assertation: "Yes, we'll fly, Ko." He 
turns an almost feral look toward Eos. "/And/... tag."
Spectreth wakes up from her nap.
Spectreth waddles toward Sky Above Northwest Bowl.
From Sky Above Northwest Bowl, Spectreth sweeps with regal grace toward 
Sky High Above the Northwest Bowl.
T'grun leans against the wall, his whole mind feeling the excitement 
radiating from his bronzen dragon. Eyes dart from rider to dragon and 
then return to his own, he finally stands straight and almost chuckles, 
his mind swirling with lust from Brianth. He remains unusually quiet, 
and suddenly swivels to grin at his dragon, "Yes my dear Brianth. We 
must catch /both/, they will fly, and us after them."
Sivadath, thoroughly aware of the carnal lust that courses through her, 
lifts to her haunches, sinewy form aglow underneath the fiery glow of 
the sun above; a desert queen amidst a barren desert, her tongue flicks 
with a famished, blood-inspired thirst. Her voice, one more, resonates 
throughout Igen's sky, her claim made.
Icicleth lets a shiver run down his icy bronze spine as he watches the 
green with softly whirling eyes, just beginning to tense as he makes a 
kill of his own.
Ysaeth shakes himself in the wake of Sivadath's roar, and almost lifts 
off before the queen does.  Almost stumbling over himself, he pulls back 
and shifts his stance a bit, tail swinging in agitation.
Eos resists the urge to say, "It!", and instead, simply grants a 
suggestive wink towards the brownrider. Perhaps all of Sivadath's 
ranting and raving about him will prove correct? Or perhaps one of those 
other riders - quick to surround her - will prove quite fruitful.
G'tar's chin rises as he watches the gold up and away,, eyes falling at 
last to the goldrider, deep and content. "The golds leave." The words 
come softly from his mouth, wallowing in truth even as he says them. 
Rising frm his lean, he steps toward Eos, tilts his head and whispers, 
"You should find a weyr, Eos. Quickly."
R'il takes a deep, steadying breath and straightens.  He /will/ keep 
control; afterall, nothing's happened yet.  Yet.
Sp'rite watches his dragon with a tinge of confused apprehension, being 
a rather young novice, and gulps it down as he tries to veer away from 
Eos. But he takes a stubborn vow to let his dragon fly...who wants to. 
Poor Icicleth...
"Weyr, yes; must find one." And with a rapid twist, Eos does.
Eos treks toward Guest Weyr.
Ny'lan arrives.
R'il follows, mindlessly following the crowd.  It's not the time to 
think.
R'il walks toward Guest Weyr.
Dharzeth arrives.
Brianth bugles and flaps mighty wings, the wind swirls about and Brianth 
is airborne. He effortlessly glides over the pastures, and hovers before 
homing in on a lonely little herdbeast. Tougue lashes out and his hind 
legs curve down, claws shining, and goes in for the kill. Lust fills his 
twirling eyes and he raises his head from the carcass to bugle at his 
rider, bronzen wings settle nowhere, not now......he will fly when the 
queen rises.
K'den would be more than happy to offer /his/ weyr, right now. Fists 
clench and unclench at his sides with a tension than matches that of the 
crouched brown beside him. As dragon readies to follow queen, so he 
follows her rider, blinded by the emotion of the moment.

Guest Weyr
Pale stone spins from a curved tunnel, into a square-cut weyr with room 
to hold almost any dragon: here the walls stipple rose quartz into 
darkest obsidion, cut by hand and smoothed by years of habitation.  
Sparse wallhangings allow the stone's coolness to pervade the desert-
warmed air, mute the dry soil's acrid sulphur and ash.  The room's only 
furnishings, a rush-filled bed and Queen-sized dragon couch, fully 
prepared for comfort, offer alternative to Igen's more usual hammock and 
stone.  
Eos and R'il are here.
Miranda is asleep here.
From here you can go:
Bowl    
                                                                       
(Kohath) K'den walks toward Guest Weyr.
(Kohath) Sivadath does rises: luscious cinnamon traces along wingveins 
as her splendid wings vault into the air, cusping its uplifting spirits 
beneath her as she spares not even a backwards glance towards her 
suitors, allowing only another taunting trumpet to lure - dare! - them 
to chase.
(Kohath) Aeoliath emits no carnal lust, no coursing of the ritual that 
boil a thousand turns of dragon blood spent in ichor's greatest dance 
upon the flames of fire spirit-bourne in mated flight. He saves these 
precious drops for when desert's barren plain parches and he, the chosen 
one, can partake. Coiled neck throws forth his head; he joins Sivadath's 
song in cacophonic harmonics.
(Kohath) Sivadath sways with a simulated air of grace toward Sky Above 
Northwest Bowl.

Ny'lan strolls, long legs gliding not always so gracefully in from 
NorthWest Bowl.

(Kohath) Sky Above Northwest Bowl
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Activity flourishes - thrives! - amidst the sheltered area 
below; wounded dragons frequently seen basking atop the weather-worn 
sandstone overhanging of the infirmary.  Igen's winds seem to have fled 
from this fragment of the sky, the breezes steadfast and as predictable 
as they come. Earthened whirlwinds are brought aloft by the push- and 
take-off of the draconic inhabitants, visibility dwindling as one draws 
near the western sky of the weyr.
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Sivadath, Ysaeth, and Dharzeth.
(Kohath) Flittering around is Icicleth.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Leaders' Complex          Weyr Entrance            Center Bowl      
         
(Kohath) Aeoliath has arrived.
(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of 
cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky Above the Central Bowl.
(Kohath) Ysaeth launches, answering the dare as he would a challenge to 
a pranking contest.  Haunches push off of the ground as wings snap open 
to catch the air.  Altitude is quickly gained witha few well-placed 
pumps and the silvered bronze takes his place in the pack.
(Kohath) Aeoliath flies toward Sky Above the Central Bowl.
(Kohath) Ysaeth flies toward Sky Above the Central Bowl.
(Kohath) Dharzeth floats through the air with a gleam of ease and grace. 
toward Sky Above the Central Bowl.
(Kohath) Kohath explodes upward in a flurry of flashing gold-washed 
brown wings, not about to be left behind as dextrous form twists between 
and amongst the rising pack.

(Kohath) Sky Above the Central Bowl
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Gusts of scalding, ruthless winds circumvent within this focal 
point of the weyr's airspace, unpredictable in their multi-directional 
entrances; below, dragons and humans converge amidst the mesmerizing 
architecture of the central bowl area, though their presence rarely 
obstructs the sheer splendor of the weyr. Ledges, each spanning an 
entire dragonlength apart, align upon weyr's sand-scoured walls, their 
occupants often seen basking during the day's zenith. Nearby, the 
inviting crystal-clear waters of the lake shimmers, sand- and sun-burnt 
bodies resting upon its inviting shores. 
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Sivadath, Aeoliath, Ysaeth, and 
 Dharzeth.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Barracks Entrance         Weyr Entrance          Southeast Bowl           
(Kohath) Northwest Bowl            Southwest Bowl                              

(Kohath) From Sky Above Northwest Bowl, Icicleth bursts into the air, a 
tad late but not enough to discourage the red that now is flowing 
through his powerful bronze wings. Eyeing his prize, and his target, he 
sets his goal.
(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of 
cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky Above Southwest Bowl.
(Kohath) Dharzeth floats through the air with a gleam of ease and grace. 
toward Sky Above Southwest Bowl.
(Kohath) Ysaeth flies toward Sky Above Southwest Bowl.

(Kohath) Sky Above Southwest Bowl
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Textured spires extend into this skyward retreat, their cusped 
edges and unconventional shapes proving to be an obstacle course for 
dragonkind. Unpredictable thermals transport the moist seduction of the 
nearby - and almost blinding during particular moments of the day - 
aspect of the lake, while the weyr's pastime lies exclusively betwixt 
the northern arch of the living caverns below.
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Aeoliath, Sivadath, Dharzeth, 
and Ysaeth.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Lake                      Weyr Entrance                                      
(Kohath) Feeding Grounds           Center Bowl                                 
         
(Kohath) Sivadath does not wait for her pursuers to follow, sinewy form 
racing across the sky, her purpose just a scant wingbeats away.
(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of 
cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky Above the Feeding Grounds.
(Kohath) Kohath's eyes have settled to a steady lustful violet, far 
removed from his normal easygoing self. A smattered hiss emerges from 
between parted teeth, insistent rumble building in his throat behind. 
Sivadath can wait or not; he'll catch up all the same.
(Kohath) Aeoliath wings in behind, wingsecond even in flight.

(Kohath) Sky Above the Feeding Grounds
(Kohath) 
(Kohath) Unruly winds circulate aloft the equivalently unyielding ground 
below, the scent of freshly blooded herdbeast and wherry potent within 
the air's irregular currents. Wind- and dragon-scoured ledges dwell upon 
jagged intervals, providing a common perch for the hunting dragons as 
well. Nearby, volcano's distinct formation gives way to the over-
powering presence of the lake, it's crystal-clear luminescence luring 
from even this distance.
(Kohath) 
(Kohath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Sivadath.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Lake                 Southwest Bowl           Feeding Grounds  
         
(Kohath) Aeoliath has arrived.
(Kohath) From Sky Above Southwest Bowl, Dharzeth follows the gold in 
persuit. Finally! A gold for the lank bronze to chase after. He, being 
so desirable continues to follow in the pack of male dragons.
(Kohath) Dharzeth has arrived.
(Kohath) Ysaeth has arrived.
(Kohath) Icicleth has arrived.
(Kohath) Brianth has arrived.

Pressure, anxiety, /nervousness/; all surround Eos as clausterphobia 
dares the settle within her.  Her arms, clenched tightly to her chest, 
tremble slightly with the unexpected experience - even assiduous 
studying could not prepare her for this. Yet, she sees nothing but 
Sivadath, those surrounding her nearly blurred images - glimpses of the 
possible future.

(Kohath) Ysaeth is hardly desirable, unless one wants an over-developed 
sense of humor in a male.   He's in the pack, nonetheless, as instinct 
compells him to obey the biological imperative.  Winging down, he 
snatches at a healthy-looking buck to drink of its lifeblood and 
disregard the heavy meat. Hey, it's sacrificed in a good cause; Ysaeth 
might get some tail today.
(Kohath) Lust; blood-lust, mating fervor, sexual desire. Call it what 
you want.  Rum-gold cusps tightly to the skeletal length of her wirey 
torso, Sivadath's form immediately spiraling towards the assembled 
beasts below. Languid in her descent, moonlit facets, ablaze with 
intent, scan through the agitated beasts, whose startled cries pierce 
through the air. 
(Kohath) Icicleth flicks his tail impatiently as the gold flies, farther 
from his grasp. Watching her spiral down to the feeding grounds, he 
hovers above the rest, waiting to see what she does.

Ny'lan just sort of stands there in the large guest weyr. He would have 
never guessed that he would have been late to such an event....with his 
dragon and everything. He has an uncomfortable look about himself, his 
general laid back self no where to be seen. Golden eyes flicker as the 
situation becomes more and more odd.
R'il hangs toward the back, unwilling, and frankly unable to get through 
the crush of riders that surround Eos.  Better to stay away, so that 
sneaking away later is all the more easy.

(Kohath) Kohath wheels downward into a tightly-spiralled landing; no 
time wasted on mere wherries for him today. He simply waits, whirling 
eyes fixed on the /only/ object of his desire for the moment, body 
coiled like a tensed spring beneath.
(Kohath) Brianth shoots above, bugling for the glowing beauty, eyes are 
whirling quick as lust and excitement radiate from this bronzen dragon. 
Mighty wings churn the winds, trying to catch the same breeze as that 
glow flying above him, tail whips about, agigated. Every other dragon is 
but another obsticule with he must pass, wing-tips catch one wing, then 
another, in search of that elusive queen. He follows her up, 
occasionally winging down to snatch a young buck, kill it, and drop the 
carcass after sucking any liquids from the limp body. He spirals above 
the pastures, his large frame making him have to stay higher up then 
some of the more agigle beasts, yet he still craves for this glowing 
queen, and a bugle once more escapes his mouth.
(Kohath) Dharzeth thinks he's desirable. Who wouldn't want an over 
modest, handsome dragon like himself? He glides within the pack, eyes 
fixed on the prize...and what a lovely prize it is. Poor Zeth. So 
innocent. So horrid.

G'tar's eyes cannot glimpse the future, only the sodden reality of the 
present, this girl, young and unspent, ready to be sharpened by 
experience's two edged blade. Before the hands clench on the sleek blue 
leather of his jacket, he draws a breath. "Eos." the word softens the 
pull of his clothes from him, the flap of his jacket upon the cold stone 
floor. one hand reaches. "Don't be scared."
"Blood it, blood it, blood /it/.." chants the goldrider, fists pumped as 
each second passes by, her body nearly flung against the wall as Eos 
stresses this all but ritualistic chant.
K'den is caught by none of his usual shyness about such matters, frost-
blue eyes fixed as lustfully on Eos as his dragon's are on her queen. 
Let R'il and Ny'lan hang back. More room for him, as he edges closer. 
"Blood it, yes," he whispers under his breath, clearly not himself. "Fly 
high..." and Kohath will assuredly be right behind.
T'grun grasps his belt firmly, and he can see his dragon almost through 
half an eye. The rest of his existance is turned towards the young lady, 
chanting herself half to death. What the future might hold excites him, 
"/Blood/ it." he finds himself saying also, and others do too. In his 
reality there is Eos only, as in his dragon's there is only Sivadath, 
and he notes her every movement, his mind churning with thoughts of the 
future, and the intense moments of the present.
Ny'lan's golden eyes move to his clutchmate. The tension in the room 
greater than he has ever felt. He moves slightly closer to her, but not 
really. He almost considers saying something, but then can't. He's never 
been to good in the lust department, that's what his dragon is for. All 
he has to offer is, "It'll be alright Eos...." Not much given to the 
girl who is thrust in the middle of amazing emotion that she has never 
experienced before. He tried, right?
Sp'rite's eyes, gleaming with silvery tones, settle finally on the 
target, only half-aware of their surroundings. Moving closer and losing 
all fear, he continues to think, to be with Icicleth.

(Kohath) Aeoliath wastes not, wants not more than his fair share of the 
carnage bourne of lust broiled in an ichor vat sky high and climbing. 
*Snap* cracks the back of the first, just before blood's sacrifice 
splatters him full of life and thirst for what could be his, what 
/should/ be his. It squeels, this languishing beast, a dry, piercing 
call for mercy that goes unheeded until its neck snaps in jugular feast 
fit for a dragon.
(Kohath) Sivadath is not innocent, nor an obtainable prize - or so the 
thinks. Talons, starlit and scythe sharp, clench firmly to her side, 
their deadly countenance accentuated as she suddenly - unexpectedly - 
plummets towards an errant, plump beast; snaring it with a practiced 
ease, she snaps it's neck within a matter of second, pearly teeth 
exposed as they lunge into the beast's neck. Defiant to the orders given 
within her head, she almost tears the resilient flesh from it's neck, 
but is soon overcome - and commanded to do so - by the blood-lust 
within.
(Kohath) Ysaeth experiences that universal emotion as well.  Lust.  None 
of it is for that Fabio of the draconic world, Dharzeth, though.  It 
goes all to the leaner, and at this point, just a little meaner, 
Sivadath.  Yet another herdbeast is sacrificed to Yas's lust and soon 
enough, tongue flicks out to clean the blood traces from his snout.  
It's hard to be romantic when your gift is comedy.
(Kohath) Icicleth lands softly, some distance away from the dangerously 
glowing queen, yet he still considers her as /his/ prize. For /him/ to 
catch. Eyes glimmering with unusually patient intent, he watches her 
blood, he himself ready for flight.
(Kohath) Dharzeth isn't lusting for Ysaeth, so it's good that Ysaeth 
feels that way. This draconic fabio is after only one thing, the gold 
immersed in passion. A herdbeast Fabio does take, he too, drowning in 
lust. 
(Kohath) Lone brown blot amidst a sea of bronze, Kohath saves his 
strength and waits, claws digging into the ground as his muscles ripple 
under tarnished hide in a ritualistic tensing/untensing, ready to 
release at any moment. A roar of lustful challenge rips forth from his 
throat, wings held aloft in waiting readiness for that first explosive 
downsweep.

Eos clenches fist tighter and tighter - nails nearly puncturing the 
toughened flesh of her palm - into her chest, glacial gaze unfocused to 
the world before her; only their voices remain a link to her grounded 
world, a keepsake of the lust that /she/ will demand from them. "Good 
girl -- /No/, continue to blood it.." she grunts, jaw clamped shut as 
concentration overwhelms her.
G'tar's shoulder finds the wall, the same that Eos claims, yet apart a 
ways. Sweat beads his head, washes him slick and shiny as a dragon's 
newly blood-washed hide. He says nothing, then, bows his head, tunic 
pulled from his trous. It's hot. The blood. But he'll tary in cloth a 
while longer.

(Kohath) Another set of razor sharp talons dig into a beast's neck, as 
Brianth goes in for another kill. Defiance fills his call as he himself 
recieves an order, and he bugles this defiance out louder then ever 
before. A effortless bounce and the bronze is airborne once again, limp 
carcass flaps about in his talons, and red tougue lashes out to snatch 
and snap the fragile neck once more before letting it drop to the 
ground. Ah flying! The lush joy of flying, and wind against his massive 
body, delights the dragon more then anything. Jaw clamps shut against 
other unfortunate beast, ah it dies for a good cause, Brianth lets out a 
loud grunt as the bones are punctured by powerful jaws. Another kill, 
another blooded. Tounge is visible once more as he laps up the stray 
blood, and swivels his head to glare at the queen before leaping into 
the air once more.
(Kohath) Blood-red stains all, nothing about the boisterous queen 
untainted by it's deathly appeal; however, she remains untainted, a 
platinum jewel amidst a bloodied massacre of flesh and passionate cries.  
Hunger remains though, stirring mist the hollows of Sivadath's stomach, 
driving her once more to the sky above where she wastes not a moment to 
ensnare another beast, tearing at its through with a feral passion.

R'il swims in the images that Ysaeth transmits, but manages to pull off 
his flight jacket.  It's fur lining is too much for him at this point, 
as is calling out reassurances to Eos.  He needs them all for himself.
Ny'lan does move a bit closer, not really wanting to, but still doing 
it. Isn't that the way it always is? You didn't want to, but you did? 
His muscles are tense as his lifemate  relays the lust filled emotion. 
He, like everyone else manages a place on the wall, because just 
standing there isn't working for him. He closes his eyes a bit. 
Uncomfortable images are his expressions.
K'den wasn't wearing a jacket, and thusly has nothing to shed.. yet. 
Sweat beads his brow as he tugs at the already-loose collar of his 
tunic, waiting.... waiting.

(Kohath) Aeoliath rends the second as fast, and the third, fallen 
quickly, feet still rousting the air for escape, ripped wide open with 
the heart still pumping the blood that soaks the earth, soaks the bronze 
nuzzle, sighs to expiration. He throws back his head and bugles his 
ferocity, his ire, his driving thirst.

T'grun moves uncomfortably around the room as Brianth bloods once more. 
Teeth clamp down on his lip and he strides about the weyr, sweat pouring 
un-ending down his back. He loosens his collar, why won't this 
discomfort go away? He's patient, patient.....he'll wait.

(Kohath) Ysaeth has finished with blooding, tilting head back to let the 
hot lifeforce drop down his thoart.  Too sweet is the nourishment that 
feeds him now, and yet is nothing to compared to what could await.  
Bodily functions take over, though, spoiling his dignified moment with a 
brap!  Burp.
(Kohath) One, two, three; a trio of beasts are jerked from the ground in 
a ravenous succession, Sivadath's body now distended and aglow with the 
stamina gifted from their blood.  As she seems apt to be, her tail 
thrashes through the sky anew, muzzle's slant bestowing a taunting glare 
upon those feasting about her; without warning, she launches into the 
sky, enormous rum-gold wings spread wide to seize the air below. 
(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of 
 cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky High Above Southwest Bowl.
(Kohath) Aeoliath flies toward Sky High Above Southwest Bowl.
(Kohath) Dharzeth concentrates on the blood stained queen, his own 
muzzle a bit messy. He watches her fly and his long frame follows. Mine.
(Kohath) Kohath's own blood boils enough for any three herdbeasts; 
lashing tail beats up a cloud of dust -- and with an explosive roar, he 
spontaneously /leaps/ aloft in the queen's wake, he not distracted by 
such mere things as herdbeasts.

(Kohath) Sky High Above Southwest Bowl
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Past spires' height and the weyr's protective walls, the 
mercilessness of the winds prevails. Neither dragon nor firelizard is 
immune to the unpredictability this area's thermals; even the most 
skilled of the species often seen faltering at these heights. The 
luminous glistening of the lake below can be nearly blinding from 
certain angles, while the feeding ground's frenzy is - and can be - an 
entertaining spectacle for all.
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Tyranoth, Sivadath, and 
Aeoliath.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Feeding Grounds           Center Bowl            Southeast Bowl   
         
(Kohath) Dharzeth has arrived.
(Kohath) Ysaeth has arrived.
(Kohath) Icicleth has arrived.
(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of  
cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky High Above the Center Bowl.
(Kohath) Ysaeth flies toward Sky High Above the Center Bowl.
(Kohath) Dharzeth floats through the air with a gleam of ease and grace.  
toward Sky High Above the Center Bowl.

(Kohath) Sky High Above the Center Bowl
(Kohath) 
(Kohath) Ardent gusts collide and gyrate within this pinnacle focal 
point of the weyrs airspace, drawing the surrounding heat and wind into 
whimsical whirlwinds and galestorms; their unpredictable convergence 
often prove to be a test for even the most agile of dragons. Archaic, 
polished ledges jut from weyrs stalwart architecture in jagged 
dragonlength intervals, providing the weyrs largest residents with a 
scenic view of the vivacious activity below; the remainder of the sky 
hints of the adjacent revitalization of the lake in the south bowl and 
the identifying fervor of the hatching sands due east. 
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Sivadath, Ysaeth, and Dharzeth.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Weyr Entrance      Feeding Ground Complex     Barracks Entrance         
(Kohath) NorthWest Bowl     Weyrling Bowl Entrance                      
         
(Kohath) Kohath's wings beat a flurry of staccato drumbeats against the 
air, overlarge limbs folded tightly against his body as the flight 
becomes all. Blunted muzzle thrusts forth in blind determination to 
match his bronzen brethren beat for beat. And he does slip past a few; 
zigging neatly past Gengith with a twist of a wingtip, and zagging 
dextrously under Khanth's wing, the smallish brown scraps his way toward 
the front of the pack.

(Kohath) Sivadath effortlessly proceeds with the gentle cusp of 
cinnamon-specked 'sails toward Sky High Above the Northwest Bowl.

(Kohath) Sky High Above the Northwest Bowl
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) The calm serenity of the thermals underneath remains where it 
is, below. A cloud, or two, sporadically lingers within this sector of 
the sky; their proximity solely a mockery of the scarce mid-winter 
rains. Two tower-like formations dominate the westward sky, firelizards 
and dragons alike drawn to their cryptic architecture, while the 
lustrous radiance of the lounging gold and bronze dragons below unveil 
the pathway towards the wide plateau to the weyrleader's complex.
(Kohath)  
(Kohath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Kohath) The following dragons are here: Sivadath.
(Kohath) From here you can go:
(Kohath) Weyr Entrance          Center Bowl            Leaders' Complex 
         
(Kohath) Ysaeth has arrived.
(Kohath) Dharzeth has arrived.
(Kohath) From Sky High Above the Center Bowl, Icicleth has arrived.
(Kohath) Icicleth has arrived.
(Kohath) From Sky High Above the Center Bowl, Aeoliath has arrived.
(Kohath) Without warning, but not without cause.  Ysaeth pushes his way 
into the crowded sky, following golden and bright desire.  Comedy melts 
into the form of suitor, would-be that is, as the silver bronze streaks 
through the sky, wings cutting into the wind.  
(Kohath) Aeoliath has arrived.
(Kohath) Sivadath accelerates within a matter of seconds, flight 
stimulated by the vigor that courses through her every vein and muscles. 
Higher and higher, she arrows aloft, body pulsing and radiating as she 
takes to her second home: the sky. It is here that she takes to her 
flight, acrobatics about as she spirals to an undercurrent, toying with 
it's invigorating breezes before granting a backward, sneering, glance 
to those who chase. Catch her , if you can!
(Kohath) Dharzeth streaks through the sky after the mighty queen. His 
long wings beat hard strokes, his speed gaining as well as his height 
with little effort. His aero-dynamic body paying off. He engages in his 
own bit of acrobatics, the sky is his home too. Swiveling and chasing 
with all of his heart (well, maybe not heart...), Dharzeth continues.
(Kohath) Kohath is most certainly up to the challenge of matching aerial 
acrobatics with flips and twists of his own; indeed, this is where his 
size becomes an asset. More like a firelizard than dragon, he banks on a 
wingtip and bullets into the updraft ridden by his object of golden 
desire. Where his wingspan lacks in beating air-capacity, he compensates 
with sheer agility, short tail becoming the perfect rudder as it lashes 
behind, cutting corners at speeds most blues wouldn't dare attempt.
(Kohath) Aeoliath climbs the pack, slick as ice in a desert noon. 
Beware, the sun, streaked by the rum-gold wash of beauty incarnate, 
pulsing, beating, /living/ among the firmament no coporeal being may 
stay. Huge wing lift, fall, rise the fire of cinnabar just above center 
pack. Behold the East, and sweet Sivadath, the sun.

Eos, without warning, tears into absolute laughter, sun-bronzed features 
sullied by the contemptuous sneer that her lifemate assumes. "Try, just 
try.." she whispers, fingers tearing at the frail fabric of her shirt as 
the enveloping heat consumes her, beads of sweat shrouding every inch of 
her body. "Just try"

(Kohath) Oh, but what are these games that we play?  Passion, lust, and 
competition, the spice of life.  This philosophical thought quickly 
comes and goes through Ysaeth's mind, as such a concept can't be 
captured for too long, not when he's concentrationg so hard on capturing 
Sivadath.  Balancing precariously on a ledge to 'make cookies' has given 
him the agility he needs to twist through the maze of male bodies 
separating him from the golden goal, and almost gives him a bad strain.  
Gotta be careful.

R'il shakes himself, trying to make contact with his own reality for a 
moment. A quick flash of a laughing weyrwoman, and the heated crowd 
around her is witnessed and then fades as Ysaeth's reality intrudes 
again.  
Ny'lan turns to glance at Eos, and odd face is plain. He'll try. "We'll 
do it....just keep going Zeth. You're doing fine..." So Ny'lan lets the 
lust and the competive nature of the flight enter into his soul. He may 
be strong to avoid such things, but not this strong. He's sure of his 
lifemate. His muscles ease. He needs not worry. They'll be fine. They'll 
be victorious....well....maybe they'll come in 3rd....please?
G'tar watches the fabric flay from a body young with inexperience and 
old with the pulse of flight. Hot. Yes. Fisting into the bottom of his 
tunic, he peels the shirt from his muscled chest, fit and toned with 
turns of riding, turns of scorching sun and sweaty work. And the scar is 
there, huge and ugly and testament to a dying gold and her rider, an 
ageless fight and those who fly it. But he says nothing.

(Kohath) Sivadath is, by nature and birth, a desert queen: arid, brusque 
winds have often consumed her, kept her grounded from flight; not this 
day. Compared to the relatively inanimate ground underneath her -- 
/below/ her - she is a resplendent jewel: twinkle, she does, rum-gold 
ablaze with crimson's fury, her sleek form cleaving through the 
thermals, her banshee-call a constant jeer.

K'den glares back at Eos with intense assurity. Oh, she can't run 
forever. Lost to his dragon's overpowering desires, his head tilts a bit 
to one side in tandem with Kohath's dodging of someone's flailing tail. 
Fingers claw blindly at his belt, allowing him to loosen his stifling 
tunic further, but his mind is elsewhere.
Eos claws at the flimsy fabric of her tunic, arms abruptly flung to 
steady herself against the wall behind her.  Glacial gaze, suddenly 
focused, stares upon those familiar to her - those faces easily 
recognizable, even through the heat - "Go away!" she screams, halfway 
consumed by her lifemate's lust, her words then contradict her prior 
call - "You can catch me; you never will.." Or will they?

(Kohath) Jeers.  Taunts.  Teasing.  It's all the same to Ysaeth, comedic 
relief personified.  Rumbling in amusement, he pushes past a brown and 
cuts off a Telgari bronze, tail waving a farewell to their faces.  
Intensity of lust compells him forward, but there's always fun to be had 
by taunting others.  
(Kohath) Dharzeth isn't a jewel in the sky. He's not even very 
attractive. Ok. He's isn't attractive period. Though he isn't a jewel, 
he is graceful in the air. He moves through the sky, his entire long 
frame aiming for that gold who teases the pack of males. His tail 
flicks, wagging with flare.
(Kohath) Kohath returns a challenging feral shriek, shouldering 
insistently under Kalgalath's struggling form and riding the jetstream 
wake with wings half-folded; zero wind resistance carries his small form 
well past the much larger bronze. Rested and ready, an oft-practiced 
barrelroll shoots him into Porth's way, forcing the other to backwing 
quickly to avoid collision; Kohath, however, twists easily out of the 
maneuver and onward. No glance is spared for the two he bested; the real 
challenge yet lays ahead.

R'il just wishes he could, really he does.  To feel the relatively cool 
heat of the bowl is his fondest desire.  Or second fondest, at this 
point.  Finally pushing into the crowd around the weyrwoman, he succombs 
to his dragon's emotions.
Ny'lan's gold eyes flame, burning. No anger, no frustration. Some lust. 
He watches at the girl who claws at her tunic. "We will." is all he has 
to say....well, mumble. We, means him and Dharzeth. He's confident and 
stands behind his lifemate. His lifemate isn't pretty, but he's warm 
with fire, flare, and a heart that deserves this. Least Ny'lan thinks 
so.

(Kohath) Aeoliath sweeps at the air, carion sage in flight above and 
behind she who would rule the desert sky; call desert jewel, into the 
night. Do not go gentle to the undoing of maiden's purity, twinkle 
though you may, refined by thermals's whispering backwind of your 
banshee-song. Closer, skipped ahead on thermals wasted below, he nears 
the polished claret. The west spent of gold, the breath of air died of 
cold in her wake, he thinks of nothing left behind. She is his 
sustenance in a cold/hot world.

K'den pierces a triumphant look at K'ran and Ar'mis as his lifemate 
fights beyond theirs, his breath rasping harshly in his throat. "We.. 
will fly... /higher/..." he mutters, nails stabbing into his palms with 
determination.

(Kohath) Twinkle, twinkle; sunlight veils over aqueous rum-gold, 
intensifying as Sivadath rises higher into the sky, slicing through 
clouds, past the distinctive barriers of the weyr's claim.  The sky is 
hers her treasured jewel for the moment, and she a keepsake of its 
prosperity.  For a scant moment, her vision wheels to encompass the 
dragons: bronze and brown alike, the forms that ensue her are familiar 
and distinctive, though blurred as she rises higher.

G'tar  no longer obeys teh desperation of the young, no longer steels 
himself against that which, in the end might be where he rests this 
night. Rising from his post at the wall, he lowers his gaze from the 
ceilng, narrows it firmly on Eos, she whose dragon consumes his waking 
dreams. He swallows. He nears. He...stalks.

(Kohath) Ysaeth files high, seeking the treasured golden jewel that's 
just ahoy.  Thar she blows!  Well, not really, Ysaeth's more the blowing 
type than Sivadath is, as he's proved over and over, but it's still a 
nice thought. Slipping around another contender for that glorious place 
beside the queen, the bronze twists over himself, displaying for her 
amusement a manuever he is so very proud of.  And almost strains a 
muscle, knocks into another bronze, and falls to the ground.  Dexterity 
allows for a quick recovery though, and now at the back of the pack, the 
silvered bronze pumps furiously in order to catch up.
(Kohath) Dharzeth's somewhat bulgy eyes watch after the sunlit twinkles, 
they seeming almost blinding to him. The tarnished bronze follows the 
run gold frame loyally as he should, as he wants, as he feels is right. 
His wingstrokes increase in speed again, almost trying to convince 
himself that he isn't tired. He isn't, just beginning to feel the real 
strain. He no longer engages in acrobatics. It's time to be serious now. 
(Kohath) Kohath's wings snap back into play with a sharp crack, 
levelling to strike the air a blow that lifts him ever higher; and 
again, the moment's hesitation on golden jewel's part to glance back at 
her suitors gains the scrapping brown a few more meters as he deftly 
cuts another corner to hit the wind-currents at this altitude. Tired he 
is, certainly, but far better off than the hapless blues whose flight 
style he mimics. A determined growl pushes weariness to the back of his 
mind, and he charges forth.

R'il groans, murmuring, "Oh, Yas."  So disappointed, but only for a 
moment. Ysaeth did recover, afterall.
And so does K'den creep forth, closer to his desired goal: the only 
focus of his mind's eye. Fingers dragging along the cavern wall for 
guidance, he shuffles blindly, seeing not dim weyr and sweaty riders, 
but clear brilliance of sparkling gold.
Ny'lan's arms start to ache, like he's sharing the work with his 
lifemate.  He creeps....no where. He leans against the wall, tired 
passion is what he feels. Ny doesn't want to step on her toes, this is 
her moment, not his. She'll let him know. Least he wishes. She'll 
probably let the winner know though. Not him. Wouldn't you just figure?

(Kohath) As much as she'll endeavor to deny it, Sivadath can only 
maintain her mockery for so long, instinct and maturity arising midst 
her soul's center. In her eyes, ever encompassed by a incessant rapture, 
those who chase are no longer pathetic, lacking beasts; but instead, 
those blurred figures filter into determined suitors, each valiantly 
striving towards her; a desert jewel who's interest is suddenly captured 
by the determination of another.
(Kohath) Star light, star bright, only star I've seen tonight: Aeoliath 
rules the heights already, well above the others here and right behind. 
Second dragon on the right and straight on 'till... Dragon laughter 
roars against a sky ruled by queens and served on keepsake platters for 
those brave and distinctive enough to take that which was never theirs.  
He, waiting as she rises to within his reach, measures her facets.  

Eos breathes: anxiousness and desire surround this breath, lithe form 
tense and pressed against the weyr's wall as she is cramped closer and 
closer by those who surround her.  "Choose already.." she murmurs, 
sparing a momentary glance to her could-be suitors. "Now.."

(Kohath) Ysaeth is determined, oh yes he is, to get that desert jewel.  
Silliness aside, tricks forgotten, acrobatics abandoned, the silver-
bronze body pushes through wind and wings, trying to regain what his 
antics have lost him.  Racing, pumping and straining, as he moves away 
from the pack, the question is posed, and he offers himself to the 
glowing jewel.  A moment caught in time, comedian silenced.
(Kohath) Does the queen flag? Given new hope, Kohath's aching wings 
stretch to their utmost, capturing an updraft, and then folding back 
immediately in a blistering falcon's dive; he loses some altitude, but 
gains more in sheer distance. Twisting in a firelizard-like maneuver, he 
spirals upward now, approaching his prize from below. What goes up, must 
come down, and he's ready to catch it on the way. Short tail lashes 
furiously behind as though to propel him upward ever faster.

Yes, choose.  R'il waits for that moment just as anxiously, hoping that 
Ysaeth catches, praying that he doesn't.  Or that he does?  Emotions war 
within him, and all he can truly wish for is an end to the turmoil.  And 
hopefully, a happy ending.

(Kohath) Dharzeth's champagne bubbled wings slow there speed. Steady and 
sure he moves towards the sunlight. Heready to find out who the sun 
chooses. Be it him, which it will be, or someone else, which he hopes it 
won't be. His tail flicks in anticipation, the lank body flying just 
behind the queen in persuit. The rest isn't uop to him.
(Kohath) There are many method of chilling the fervent boils of lust, 
and though in this, Sivadath must choose.  Through the exquisite furl of 
cinnamon-enhanced wings, the queen languidly sinks towards the gathered 
males, tail's trident jestfully flicked amongst each of them: testing, 
taunting, luring, she descends to seek a suitor that will outmatch, 
outthink, and most of all, seize /her/ with his brilliance. 

Ny'lan feels his lifemate's train of thought, now knowing that the 
moment is now coming near. His golden boy glance watches Eos completely 
now. Her face, her features, her every move. He waits. What more can one 
do?

(Kohath) Aeoliath mocks no one,covets no one, claims nothing but the 
wind and sky between the rising sun and he. Valor, courage, fire, they 
are all of wht makes a dragon, bone and sinew caress the sharp desert 
blood into soothing hot buttered rum. Determination all, he dives toward 
her, wings slanted back, slapped by wind's adversity.
(Kohath) Kohath waits not for the sun to come to him! Sunset's golden 
brilliance is matched by dawn's flurry of golden-brown, as he valiantly 
rises to meet her descent, heralding his presence with a strident tenor 
bugle. No 'It' ever won a game of tag by waiting for the victim's 
choice; he strives to make it for her.

G'tar /doesn't/ breathe, lest his lust and the power of his dragon's 
dive send him headlong into she whose proximity alone could roil him 
into insanity's clutches. Clutches, like claws that reach, confine, 
claim. His eyes narrow and within a whisper of her, he says, "It's okay, 
Eos. It'll be okay."

(Kohath) Ysaeth shines beneath the Igen sun, but then he's a bronze.  He 
always does that.  He wiggles through the sky with a dexterity that 
belies his long figure.  He always does that.  He ponders and wonders 
and chews over the best way to get the better of someone.  He always 
does that.  But he does not always throw in the very foundation of his 
soul, the rock upon which he stands, that magma that lies beneath the 
twinkling surface of the comedian. This burning persona sweeps through 
the sky, seeking, wanting, needing the golden jewel that flies.  The 
moment is upon him, and so veer he does, towards she who shines.

R'il waits, just waits, waits for the moment.  To be chosen and 
celebrate, or to run and celebrate.  Or at least get drunk.  Hands rake 
through sweat-soaked coppered locks, almost ready to tear it out.

(Kohath) Dharzeth is keeping height. Darzeth is keeping his eyes on the 
sun. That rum gold twinkle-filled thing is what this tarnished bronze, 
skinny, wunnderful dragon is out for. He tail waves, as it has been 
doing for awhile now, the fork flicking left and right. Time for this to 
come to end and time for the twinkle to choose one ttwinkle with 
her....he isn't very shiny, but he might work...

Ny'lan continues to gawk at Eos, who would probably smack him, or should 
smack him once if she was in her right mind. He's waiting for what R'il 
is waiting for. He's waiting to either have his lifemate chosen, or to 
get drunk with R'il like the old days. Either way, he's coming out 
ahead....though he does have a prefrence...
K'den remains, for once, still, tensely poised on the verge of either 
triumph's leap or disappointment's plummet, his thoughts one with his 
struggling brown's.

(Kohath) Determination, the foundation of livelihood and success itself, 
lures Sivadath from her sky-high vantage; the rum-gold that is her, 
veers to meld into the golden brown of him, Kohath.  Her suitor chosen, 
passion overwhelms the obstinate queen, her triumphant call resounding 
through the weyr's expanse. 

Eos blinks: she has /chosen/. Fire's lust melts the glacial chill of 
her, her caliginous regard pinpointing onto K'den. /Him/.

(Kohath) [*] Kohath 's feral bellow of triumph rakes the Weyr and all 
that surround, strident joy in crystalline bugle marking passion's 
height and race's end. << TAG! >>

K'den's statuesque, agonizing wait broken, he pays no heed to those 
leaving, an animalistic bellow of his own ripping from his throat in 
tandem with his lifemate's. He-who-was-once-K'den glares blindly, 
attention's full force fixed ferally on She; HIS.

(fade to black :> )