Don't Fear, My Darling (Semith's Run)

[lithle]

((IMPORTANT NOTE: ICly, this run doesn't happen until after May 15th. It's happening IN THE FUTURE. Semith's run is occurring before Iiateth's, so prior to the breakout. Fairytale clutch is twelve months, old enough to chase. Insta-Weyrlings are no longer Weyrlings and have been sorted into squads. Again, this is occurring about six months in the future.

For this reason, I won't actually reveal the winner until May 15th. I'll post when the Run ends, but won't say who caught until we've caught up to the present.

Feel free to create NPCs but the winner will be a PC.))

It was nearly noon and the rain was falling heavily, a thick, drenching downpour. Somehow, it was still hot. Leshta was napping in her hut. Semith had been odd the past few days, restless and even more bubbly than normal. But the Weyrwoman was more than happy to attribute her attitude to the heat and to her being Semith. Now, she was vaguely aware that her dragon had made her way to where cleared land faded into jungle, her sleek golden form glowing even in the shadows the great trees cast.

The wingless gold was thinking of nothing much. She was thinking about Mordanth, of Kith, of Merceth and even of Yusuth. Her friends. She was very lonely. Usually, she didn't mind it so much. But today, the loneliness was the ache, the space between herself and her friends pressing on her nerves. It came out, not as anger, but as energy. She wanted to play. She romped through the thinned trees, pretending this shadow was one dragon, the next another. She pounced them.

A scent reached her, musky and close. A feline. Close. She found, to her surprise, that she was very, very hungry. She sniffed the air, her long tail lashing. She didn't usually hunt for herself. She'd never eaten a feline. But this one had already been in one fight today. She could smell the blood.

Blood.

Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air. She turned, following the smell. There it was. One of the huge wild beasts, not one of the smaller domestic sorts. Limping, trying to get away. She didn't even think about it. She was simply moving.

And Leshta was sitting up in her bed, drenched in sweat. Her mind was full of the smell of blood and trees, of loneliness and want.

"Hungry," she hissed, finally realizing what was happening. This was only Semith's second Run, the signs were not yet familiar enough. Any proper gold would be ordered to take blood alone. But Semith would be running, not flying. And they did not so much need a large clutch. Instead, she reveled in the mirrored flavor of hot meat and blood as her dragon ate.

Semith had snapped the beasts neck and now she was gorging herself on the meat, blood streaking her muzzle and staining the soil at her feet. She was still hungry, but there was no other meat to be had. The pens were too far. Her eyes were whirling violet. She felt she wanted very much to move and even more, to have her friends around her.

She needed them. Why were they ignoring her?

Tag! Her mindvoice, usually high and sweet, seemed to have gained some deeper resonance. All of you are it! Come and catch me! It's time to play!

Leshta had risen. Now she stood outside her hut, her back pressed against it. Her eyes were half lidded, her clothes put on in a hurry and slightly askew. Her arms were akimbo and her expression was one of challenge, but not of fear. Last time, she'd been afraid. But she was ready, now. She could deal with this. Semith was a bright, burning light in her mind and for once Leshta was allowing that warmth and ease to soothe her.

She was waiting and at the same time, she was Semith, weaving in and out of trees, waiting for friends to come and chase.

[giftwrapped]

Lanakirene, darling....

"Oh, Faranth, Kith, who is it this time?"

...Semith?

"................Shards and shells!"

Lanakirene swore explosively as she felt the lust overtake her, clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms and gritting her teeth while she fought the emotions away. "Always, always when I'm heating something," she hissed, removing the bubbling clay pot from her burner and turning it off with trembling hands. "Fardling golds and fardling hot oil infusions, sharding flights," she hissed continually, working at a low grade simmer of rage for a moment. The irritation helped block out some of Kith's more powerful emotions, and enabled her to tidy up the small office before striding out at a brisk clip.

Kith was standing outside, shifting anxiously in his wallow and fluttering his wings, eyes whirling frenzied purple and red as he waited for his rider's approval. I wouldn't ask, Lanakirene, he began quickly, even his mindvoice sounding strained as he looked again in the direction from where Semith's call had come. If it was any other queen I would not ask, but it is Semith. He was trembling with excitement, and Lanakirene propped her hands on her hips for a moment, regarding the blue thoughtfully.

"Bronzes would have blooded their kills by now," she remarked. "If Semith had bronzes."

Bronzes don't Run, Kith answered briskly, but his attention was again fully elsewhere, not drawn back to Lanakirene until she touched him gently on the shoulder. He shuddered at the sudden contact, swinging his head down and nuzzling his rider's hair absently. I wouldn't ask, he repeated, but in this case... And La sighed. With Kith speaking the way he did, how could she possibly deny him a request like this? Even if it was, ah....unprofessional, to say the least.

"Go on, then. If you father a clutch, Kith, I don't know what I'm going to tell the folks back home. I'm here to watch their dragons, not make a clutch of my own, you know."

I'll try my hardest not to catch her.

"You liar." But Lanakirene was grinning, rubbing Kith's shoulder gently with a hand that was beginning to tremble with suppressed emotion just like the dragon beneath it. "Go on. Otherwise you'll explode, and I'll be shoveling lumps of you into wheelbarrows for the next month."

Only a few sevendays; I'm not nearly large enough for a month, Kith chuckled, but even as he responded, he was taking to the sky, winging frantically to get far enough aloft for betweening. He burst from the sky above the woods, remembering only belatedly that Semith was unable to Fly properly. This would be a Run, he remembered, and the petite blue forced his wings shut, dropping to earth light as wherrydown. And he folded his wings tightly to his body, snaking in amongst the trees. He had been tagged by the beautiful gold, and Faranth help him, he would do everything he could to win the game.

Semith, my dear! I'm here to play with you!

Now then...where was she...there had been that glimpse of gold between the branches up ahead...he took off at a trot, adjusting awkwardly to the ground-bound gait with distaste that was soon burned out by lust. Whatever it took to catch Semith, he would do it. Even if it included loping about on the soil like a concussed wherling.

As the dragon above her blinked out, La exhaled, letting the emotions overtake her. Semith's own lust didn't pollute the weyr like some of the noisier queens tended to at their Flights, but it certainly didn't help with the fact that she could feel Kith in her head, pulsing like a second heartbeat. She was acutely aware of every part of her: arms, legs, core, wings - oh Faranth, already?

Absolutely not. Lust or no lust, La didn't intend to forget she was not in fact a dragon until long after she had reached the Weyrwoman's weyr. Speaking of which, well. It was time to head off, wasn't it. At least this time she knew where to go, as opposed to the last Flight Kith had bothered with. This time, she approached Leshta slowly, with a deceivingly easygoing gait. It took the last vestiges of her will to drop a short bow to Leshta and smile winningly at her. "Weyrwoman - Leshta," she said, fighting in vain against the strain in her voice. "I apologize. Kith couldn't be convinced otherwise."

[tuathade]

Merceth had found a shiny that satisfied him at last. A chunk of rock with a vein of something sparkling running through it – probably just quartz or mica or some other common mineral, C’ross wasn’t enough of a miner to identify it. He’d spotted it on one of their breaks, dug it out on his own time. Now he stood just outside their weyr, holding the stone in the rain so that the water would wash off the mud. C’ross leaned in the shelter of the doorway with Harper snuggled on his shoulder, sipping at a mug of klah and smiling at the silliness of it all… at least until the dragon’s head snapped up as if listening to some distant alarm.

Semith runs, Merceth said quietly, eyes going deep violet.

For a moment, he was bronze and she was gold, and the call thundered against ancient programming. Dragon and rider looked in unison towards the forest, the two of them together one entity full of a need deeper than thought –

- then Merceth shook himself all over, shook it off as he shivered the rain off his wings. He was himself again, and C’ross was C’ross.

Shards. His heart was pounding in his ears, but the overwhelming emotion in the rider was solely relief. Of all the people to wake up next to… No. No, he would never want that. Not because of anything against Leshta, but… He’d take the weyrmate he loved and what little quiet he could find in his life. He had everything he could want.

As if nothing had happened at all, Merceth turned back to his shiny rock, turning it over and over in his forehands. I will give it to her tomorrow, when she is not busy.

---

At the squadleader’s signal, the squad took off into the air, settling into the usual patrol formations. J’ne and Normandith took up their position, the brown gliding smoothly into place with hardly a wasted twitch of a wing. That was just how he was: the small brown seeming near-weightless in the air, economy of motion saving his limited stamina for key moments.

The squad swept together over the forest, riders hunkered down in their flight leathers against the driving rain. It was shaping up to be yet another dull, uninteresting wet day in a string of dull, uninteresting wet days. J’ne sighed. What she wouldn’t give for… hold on, was that a flash of… gold, among the trees?

There was no warning. Semith called, and Normandith folded his wings and dropped. J’ne, despite turns of experience on dragonback, still felt her stomach lurch at the unexpected dive. But as soon as the brown was clear of his squadmates his wings unfurled again, and he tumbled over himself in a brief yet dazzling aerial display that sent him hurtling towards where Semith was waiting.

Normandith had chosen his moment.

The queen calls. I follow. The brown’s tone brooked no argument. This was no green, who could be courted at leisure. Semith, golden queen of Warden’s Weyr, asked for companionship, challenged every male in the weyr. He would follow; no healthy male worth his wings would do otherwise, at least in Normandith’s mind.

J’ne laughed aloud. What about patrols? Such a reversal of their usual positions – normally it was her dragon who had to keep her on track.

Time for patrols later. Semith does not Run every day – hurry, J’ne! He landed in the cleared area just outside the forest, lowering his forequarters to the ground to allow his rider to slip off. She didn’t even take off his riding straps; no time to fiddle with buckles, he’d just have to be careful to avoid getting them tangled in the trees.

Go on, then. The weyrleader’s blue snagged that green right out from under your nose, so you intend to return the favor, do you now love?

Normandith did not respond. Bugling aloud, he pulled his wings tight to his sides and plunged into the thick forest. Running was… different from flying. Very different. Branches whipped and tugged at his sides – it was clear now how Mordanth had caught Semith last time, as the smaller blues would have a clear maneuverability advantage among the trees. Still, Semith herself was a gold. Anywhere she could fit herself, Normandith could pursue. The brown set off in a swift lope, strides tight and controlled to keep himself from slamming headlong into unexpected obstacles.

J’ne watched the tree line in silence for a moment. Then she drew a deep breath, not even trying to push away the intense sensations of Flight. It was a long walk from where she was back to the weyr proper. So, like her dragon, she’d run for the joy of running.

[Lesa]

C'fael kept the scowl off his face as he looked down at the patient on the bed before him. Just had to break his leg trying to escape from the Watch before he got captured, didn't he? And just had to be an actual tweaker so he needed to detox - and he couldn't give something strong enough to counteract the pain. Then again, that was because the bugger couldn't keep down the herbal remedy that the brownrider kept shoving down his throat. That would be strong enough, more than strong enough, but the prisoner was a thrower as his body violently dispelled near anything put in it. He'd already given up wearing his tunic, wanting to keep the harder to wash cloth away from the stomach bile he was being exposed to.

The prisoner, dark haired (visible even with the fresh shearing) and burly, was in long arm-shackles as C'fael supported his torso to prevent the convict from choking to death on his own bile. A thankless task, but someone had to do it. C'faelmine? there was a hunger, a need, to Ansyth's voice that hadn't been there in... quite some time. Since before R'sey died.
Yes? he asked testily, arms wrapped around the convict (what was his name?!) to keep from shaking himself off the bed.
It's Semith,the brown said with longing, stretching from where he lay outside the infirmary. The blond delivered a look to the outside wall that screamed increduluity. Really, Ansyth? Now, of all times? Ugh. He kept himself from snapping, knowing full well that he wasn't going to be able to turn Ansyth away. He could hear the brown had the mental bit between his teeth, so he decided he wasn't going to fight it. The prisoner he was with could be propped up with pillows, and this was the only person in detox. Ralvan could watch him.

This was one of those times he wished he had a firelizard, would make things easier than shoving pillows behind the prisoner's back and speed-walking out of the detox area hoping to find Ralvan. No Ralvan to be seen in the main infirmary, but a rather cross looking Gwynell, petting a glaring Halbert. Oh, weren't we just a ball of sunshine? She lost the expression as she cocked her head to the left, staring at him curiously.
"Hmm, what's - oh." Her eyes went glassy as her lips went into a moue of dislike. "Thanks, Wil, got it," she muttered, distracted, before piercing her "brother" with a look. "Go, let Ansyth run. I can take care of one hobbling nutter."
"He's really big," C'fael tried to warn her, ignoring the feeling of Ansyth aloft and streaking down to the closest clearing to where Semith ran.
"He's tied down and spewing. I can manage. Get going so you don't have a grumpy dragon." The smaller blonde propelled the larger out the door with a hip and Halbert's claws at his back. The feline wiggled out of her arms as soon as the wooden slab shut, Gwynell pulling her gitar from around her shoulder. No fear of the convict complaining that her playing was bad. Be better than practicing in the barracks.

C'fael kept himself to an even clip as he made his way towards the wooden huts all used as weyrs, allowing Ansyth's emotions to slowly bubble to the surface of his being, like a pot set on simmer - it would take time to get to a rolling boil. Enough time for him to get to where Leshta waited. The dirt path was more like a mud path - the nuisance of winter in the south - everything was wet. It was nasty, but it worked to get him where he was going. His shirt was plastered to his form with the rain, curls dripping into his eyes and legs plastered in mud as he stopped near La, bowing to Leshta with a gentle smile. At least he hadn't slipped and covered his front or back in the muck.
"Lady Leshta," Ansyth's lust had his voice showing off the slight Ruathan burr his normally crisp Benden voice took from his mother, "I hope you don't mind." He lifted an eyebrow at La, a stubborn raindrop dripping from the end of his nose, and added wryly, "may the best healer win, eh, La?" He winked at the pair, settling into "at ease" with long practice, ignoring the squelch of his boots.

Up and away Ansyth pushed, mud pulling at his talons as he took to the air once C'fael gave him the slightest bit of agreement. She was so beautiful, unique and quirky, how could he say no? How could he not want to bask in this playful queen's presence, to be there to play with her, to play as he hadn't played since Desayunath was alive. Brown wings folded sharply against his sides as he fell to the earth, claws plowing through dirt and roots in the small clearing as he hooked wing-claws together to assure the appendages would stay out of the way of trees, joints thrumming with impact.

The bulky brown nodded cordially to the blue, his fellow healerdragon. Blues and the smaller males would have more luck here, speed and size able to cut around trees and through dirt faster than his frame, and certainly faster than the bronzes, should any join them. Sweet Semith, he rumbled, lead us on a game to remember. He was not a creature built for the ground, solid and wide, but he would do it, he would run, for her.

[S'yal]

Trusith felt funny.

He didn't like feeling funny. He felt so funny and weird that he pranced in place, his thick tail smacking against the hut Yari used as a home. Usually that helped.

It did not help this time and he still felt funny. He didn't know why he felt funny- he hadn't chased before. Oh, he'd wanted to and he'd felt funny whenever a green Rose, but it was never quite this bad. He felt like he was on fire and he wanted to move and chase but he didn't know why. He didn't know until Semith was talking to him and all the others, and then something inside of him flared. The brown let out a trill of excitement, patting his front paws on the ground. {Semith! You are so pretty and lovely and Trusith is going to chase because you are pretty and lovely and shiny and it is all very nice!} Poor thing, he's not very good at that whole talking business when excited. The brown pause, seeming to realize something was needed. {Yarimine. Wake up, Yarimine. Semith is Running! You told me to catch her and I will because I never let you down!} But that was all he said before all thoughts of his rider disappeared.

Trusith lurched to all four of his big feet, pumping his short legs as fast as he could to join the chase. He let out a rumbling growl as he spotted his fellow chasers, too young to understand how to be a good sport. They were in his way! He had to win! Lust was heavy in his mind, but something else nagged at his mind. He couldn't let Yari down. He couldn't disappoint her. He had to win.

He would never be able to face the rider who had hoped and dreamed so long if he didn't.

Yari meanwhile lurched up from the bed that she had been catching the few hours of sleep allowed to her each day. She looked horrendous as she stumbled to the weyrwoman's weyr- her hair was a mess, she was lacking her makeup, and she looked annoyed as hell. She was scared, too. She could feel her mind slowly slip away to Trusith, and loss of control was something Yari feared above all other things.

But by the time she reached the others she was Trusith and Trusith was her, and she rewarded her rivals with a chilling glare. Ah, even when half absorbed into Trusith she was still the same old, evil Yari.

May the best Trusith win. Was her final thoght before she gave up and joined Trusith in his chase.

[nozomi]

Unlike the rest of his fellows, Mordanth paid no particular mind to the twisting feeling of his gut. A green was rising! Hurrah! Right? But it felt different then the greens, a familiar sort of twitching and that rush of everything ever through him. He stirred from his nap, a rumble thick in the small blue's chest.

T'diMine. Mordanth stretched out, his claws clinging at the ground before he heaved himself up. It always found him when sleeping, always. But did he mind? No. He could not. Not for Semith. T'di mumbled from his bed, flailed, and fell out of the thing with a grunt. Shirtless and grumpy, the young man shoved himself up on his arms to glare out of his tent towards where the mindvoice 'came' from. Semith, she runs again... The dragon hesitated. Would you want me to chase her again?

Ugh, Shards and Shells, T'di could feel the want even before he realized his bondmate asked a question. Same thing as last time: Semith 'Rising', calling out to others. Mordanth, wanting but hesitant to go too far because of T'di's friendship with Leshta, or his own uneasiness of being a blue, chasing a Gold. While both rider and dragon disliked the enforced structure of a Weyr, Mordanth sometimes found it hard to go against what he'd been told for so long.

Last time, the choices were few, and T'di feared for his friends mental state if she woke up in bed with someone she barely knew or, worse, barely liked. Mordanth chased. Mordanth won. While the morning after had been awkward, it'd quickly been soothed by some breakfast and offhanded jokes about the evening.

This time - more choices, worse choices. T'di groaned and dragged on a tunic, before he stumbled from his weyr. Please, Mordanth. Chase her. Win again, for the First Eggs sake. I'd hate for her to have to be with someone - gross.

Mordanth thrummed. All doubts fled when the blue thrust himself out and into the air. He flapped, and betweened, to that jungle. He could smell it, the thick scent of the plants and the flash of gold he could swear he saw. Mordanth tucked his wings in tight, dipping and twisting around the trees, claws throwing up ground beneath his claws.

Semith, friend, shiny girl! Mordanth called out, his mind-voice triumphant with just the knowledge that he was running, and it was fun. It had to be fun. And he knew he could do it! You have only become even more quick in the last Turn![/i] He saw many of the same males as he did during Kitath's flight. Despite the fact they were 'competition', the blue inwardly gleed. Comrades in arms! They could share in the fun together!

T'di, however, did not quite feel the same way. His concern was for Leshta, and how she'd do with the entire thing over again. The silly bluerider loved the Queenrider as dearly as he could, and had he been more interested in women, there may even have been a crush in there somewhere. Alas - only friendship, but he loved her anyway.

"Lesh!" cried the redhead, his arms outstretched. His face was flushed with the Run, and his hands shook a bit, but he grinned wide for his friend. Even though he usually had manners, T'di ignored the competitors to shift close to the goldrider, his eyes wide and imploring and just a wee bit glazed. T'di touched her, something he'd never do to another Queenrider in this situation, just a touch of his fingers to her elbows. For a moment, the bluerider didn't look impassioned - he looked worried. For her. The expression faded quickly, a quick and forced smile flaring on his face, same with the rush of Need that curled through him as Mordanth continued to Run. "Lesh. Friend. You. Uhm. You're okay. Right?"

Mordanth wouldn't catch her. Semith liked new and shiny things. She'd want someone new. T'di would not win. But, for her, he was scared.

[Zen]

‘Neener neener neener!’

That was the thought that burst through T’ron’s mind the moment Semith declared that she was Running. Of course, cabarath had known that she was Rising to Run before she’d actually known it herself. Cabarath had begun with wing exercises, explaining to T’ron that even though Semith did not Fly, Cabarath could use his wings to maintain stability on the ground. T’ron hadn’t disagreed, nor had he even asked in the first place. He hadn’t really cared that his gray was getting ready to Chase Semith in the first place. After all, Semith was huge and Cabarath was like a… like a herdbeast to her; even smaller than a green, none of the grays were expected to win… and T’ron certainly didn’t think any of the other grays were even thinking about Chasing. But Cabarath… Cabarath wanted everything that would make him look better in the eyes of the Warden and of the whole of Warden’s Weyr. Of course. That was Cabarath, so T’ron wasn’t at all worried about the gray.

You don’t worry enough. Cabarath mewled piteously in T’ron’s ear; somehow his velvety voice was still there, however, and the piteousness in his voice was certainly fake. T’ron glared at his dragon from where he stood, but sighed and pushed away the gray’s happy nose as Cabarath nuzzled his stomach lovingly. The blue-eyed man grinned and scratched Cabarath behind his headknobs before pushing him away. “Go on, now. You’ll never let me off the hook if I say you can’t Chase her.”

Cabarath purred as he trotted off. His feline form was sinuous, different than any other dragon because of his elongated front legs. He certainly was the best candidate to chase Semith. She blared her intent into his mind but he was ready. Why should he not be? The other males were ready. Just because he was different meant nothing. It meant he was better than them. He was her son. That had nothing to do with it… but he held Semith in a different light than any other dragon. There was no inbreeding in dragonkind and certainly there was nothing wrong with a son chasing a mother or a father chasing a daughter. So Cabarath wanted nothing more than to chase Semith.

T’ron had never felt the sensation he felt coursing into his veins. He’d felt lust in flights, but to have a dragon actually participating in the flight… it was an all-new feeling. It was not unpleasant, this feeling, but it was wholly foreign. He found himself at Leshta who was… who was strangely starting to take the shape of her golden dragon. Oh… oh great. “Leshta. I’m terribly sorry; I’ve got the feeling that I soon won’t be in charge of my own mind….” Was apologizing beforehand okay?

Shut your mouth, fleshbag. The gray growled as he kicked up his feet and began the Chase.

[lithle]

Leshta barely acknowledged the other riders, only nodding vaguely, her gaze unfocused and directed to the distance. Until T'di. Something in her eased when her friend arrived. She touched her forehead to his shoulder, inhaling the familiar smell of him. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing slightly ragged, but her expression, a sharp edged little smile, was her own.

"Fine," she murmured, lifting her head. "I'm fine. You worry too much."

She pulled away from him, crossing her arms in front of her. Her attention danced restlessly over the other riders gathered, her far from friendly expression souring further at T'ron's words. That made, two apologies? Three?

"The next person to apologize gets kicked in the shin," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Semith is Running. She called your dragons to her. She'll pick who gets apologized too. And I'll be doing the apologizing."

And that was all she was going to say. Her gaze went distant again, darting with Semith through distant trees.

Semith's friends were finally with her!

She'd begun to think they didn't care. Now, with sweet voices calling out to her and the sound of other dragons making their way through the forest, Semith pulled her one existing wing close to her body and began darting through the trees with new vigor.

Semith was large, large enough that if they were in the true jungle instead of the partly deforested area, she'd be in trouble. But she did have one thing going for her Semith had walked all her life, where most of her followers spent the largest amount of their time in the air. She knew her gait and had adjusted it over time to be less awkward. Semith was fast on the ground.

She was moving fast, and the trees were getting tighter. She scraped her side against one and that slowed her. Ouch! she announced to her chasers. The trees bite! Be careful, friends.

She was bleeding now, just a tiny trickle. But she found her pace again, twining through the trees ahead of her followers, not yet ready to give any a chance to grow close.

[nozomi]

T'di leaned into Lestha's frame. When she tipped her head onto his shoulder and breathed deep, his turned his to press a soft kiss to the womans hair. The blueriders hand went higher up, to stroke her shoulder, and then Leshta was away, murmuring quiet chiding words.

"I worry just enough, might Queenrider." T'di grinned again, his own voice just as soft as Lestha's own, even if she didn't hear him. "I worry so you won't have to." The redhead shifted closer to her anyway, a quiet bodyguard in Leshta's shadow. Much like Kitath's Flight, T'di continued to blush, face bright red, tinged right up to his ears, and shivering fingers thrust into small pockets of his pants. Where Yari glared death and anger to all those around her, T'di watched all of them with a wary gaze, defensive of his friend and her Gold.

Anyone who touched her without her permission (or Semith's, anyway) would meet a rather horrid fate at the blueriders hand. Instead of pondering murderous thoughts, however, he gave La a slight nod. "I think we're following each other, Master DragonHealer."

Sweet Semith, your Mordanth will bite those trees back for you! Just give the word! He would, too, and bring her the stick after the run.

Never as fast as his shiny friend, Mordanth had learned how to Run a bit better since his last chase. That last time had been on the beach, where all the things were sinking feet and flying sand - nothing like the jungle Semith chose to take off to this second time. It did nothing to deter his energy, claws digging in to help propel the small blue through the jungle, weaving in and out of those trees.

He caught a glimpse of Gold through the trees, his friend, his Semith, and Mordanth sped up. He hurt. He was tired. He wanted her. In the back of his mind, he felt T'di crouch down, the touch of fingers to his own elbows as T'di felt the rush of wind against hide. They ran.

[giftwrapped]

Kith's petite size was almost never an advantage, but for once, the little dragon was thanking Faranth for his almost-stunted length. He might not have been as graceful as Semith, but at least he was quick. Wings tucked tight against his body, he ignored the fact that his forelegs were beginning to cramp up, focusing entirely on the flashes of gold through the trees. For a moment, Semith was almost close enough to touch, but then she was away again, kicking through trees. Passages that didn't quite fit the gold were much easier for the tiny blue, but a flicker of pale blue to his side had Kith looking up.

Mordanth! Friend! It is good to see you! he called, but a trifle distractedly. Manners weren't as important as scent of gold and desire to catch and possess; Kith had never considered chasing a queen before, but Semith was different. She was a gold who didn't act like a gold, and she was his friend. And that was what this run was all about - friendship. He would not begrudge Mordanth the win should Semith choose the dragon she knew best. But that was neither here, nor there, because under the gentle friendliness, there was still the male dragon sprinting after the female dragon...and this time there were eggs at stake.

Kith wanted to father a clutch - but above all he wanted to prove himself to the gold.

Where you lead, I will follow, Semith! he cried merrily. To the deepest jungle, to the beach, wherever you wish! The arrival of the other chasers (C'fael's brown Ansyth, the young Trusith, and a brown he vaguely remembered from Kitath's Flight) barely distracted him, but a glimpse of grey through the trees was surprising enough that he paused for a moment, stumbling and almost sprawling nose-first into a tree trunk. He caught himself at the last moment, twisting and crashing shoulder-first instead and growling his annoyance as he recovered.

Kith, was that - Faranth. La frowned, blinking to separate her gaze from her dragon's and running a hand through her hair as she realized what she had seen. The younglings, the junior weyrling - no - the only Weyrling clutch - no. The Weyr's newest dragons. That had been a grey chasing Semith. "Faranth," she repeated aloud, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. If this was the case, then it meant...well, it might have meant a lot of things that she couldn't focus on right now. Her head swam, and she opened her eyes again, focusing hard on the ground and readjusting her stance to avoid falling over.

Leshta admonished her and the others who had apologized, and Lanakirene ducked her head, hunching her shoulders and assuming a pose that was peculiarly draconic in nature, but then it was gone and La was moving forward. She wasn't close enough to touch, but as she brushed past C'fael, she bumped him gently, hip-checking him in a mostly-friendly way. "Best healer, eh?" she answered, and the grin she gave him was all teeth. Like Kith, she might have been enjoying the experience, but this was about competition. "Well," she rasped, clearing her throat to make herself sound human again, "only one of us wears Master's knots, C'fael."

Playful, cheerful, joking. And fiercely competitive. Kith stumbled, and La lost her own balance, throwing a hand out and catching herself against the wall of Leshta's hut and growling to herself momentarily. And then she forced herself as human as she could, hands trembling as she leaned against the wall of the hut. She stayed apart from Leshta, outside an arm's length, avoided touching her. T'di had license. Lanakirene did not.

But Faranth, she wanted it. Was that Kith speaking through her? Was it her? She didn't know anymore.

[S'yal]

Trusith merely followed the queen, careful to avod smashing his bulky sid against a tree. He'd practiced. He'd practiced every time Yari had askedhim, because Yari wanted to be weyrleader and Trusith would never fail her.

So he ran some more. Yay Trusith.

(BLAH I only had five minutes to write this. I'll edit it later)

[tuathade]

Others had joined in the chasing. Normandith was no longer the largest male in pursuit - there were two other browns now, one considerably larger than the compactly built Normandith. A gray, as well - a gray, really? He felt his rider laugh in the back of his mind. Smaller even than a green, the smallest dragons on Pern, and chasing a queen... Even a flightless one. Neither dragon nor rider much fancied the weyrling's chances.

Then he caught a glimpse of blue hide through the trees, blue that was not the masterhealer's dragon, and Normandith's stride faltered. Of course the current weyrleader would pursue to defend his mate. J'ne and Normandith knew very little of the relationship between T'di and Leshta, but... Well, golds were often known for selecting a favored male to win time and time again. Semith was a very strange gold - would she hold to expectations in this case?

Ah well. A chase was a chase. If Semith cared to favor her Mordanth, that was her right. All that Normandith could do was try his best.

The trees were closer together now, and the queen called a warning to her pursuers. Semith, fair queen, be careful yourself! he called in reply. The smell of blood was very faint, but present nonetheless. You are very quick, but the jungle can be treacherous.

Normandith had a plan: he was trying to stay in Semith's wake, watch which path the gold took and run where her passage had already stamped down the vegetation. However, this was much easier said than done. The gold's motions were quick, darting and erratic, and her agility on the ground was far greater than any of her chasers. She was used to running, whereas all her suitors were creatures of the sky. One moment she would be visible through the trees, the next she would vanish amongst the foliage. Running at full-tilt, Normandith had little time to do anything except choose what path looked clearest. Even with that, a few whippy branches caught at his wings, and he pulled them in tighter to his sides, hissing displeasure.

Luckily for J'ne, she had not been dropped the full half-day's walk away from the weyr. Normandith had control enough to remember to put her close to where she needed to be. Regardless, she was still the last rider to arrive, at least by her count. "Hello, Weyrwoman, hello, Weyrleader," she called cheerily to the pair. "Lovely day for a stroll around the jungle!" The brownrider was happily unrepentant, if somewhat breathless from her trip. Shards, though, she wanted to just keep running - running forever, her and Normandith as one entity... That, and she kind of wanted to have her hands all over someone. These were pretty much mutually exclusive wants, and J'ne was still mentally present enough to be amused.

She was used to Flights, to the point where the sudden dizzying bouts of vertigo and the sensation of having phantom wings didn't bother her much anymore. But this... this was different. Interesting, but different.

Oh hey, there was someone else here she recognized. Hello, Masterhealer. Lanakirene would get a very friendly brownrider sidling up to her, wearing a grin like a feline with a baby tunnelsnake. "I remember you," she observed nonchalantly. "Kitath's Flight! Nice to see you again, Masterhealer."

[Zen]

Cabarath had not fed on the blood of the beasts. As a gray, who was smaller than a green, he needed not the nourishment of the kill; the blood might have even weighed him down. The slower he went, the less likely he was to catch Semith. Besides, he had eaten only yesterday and had not felt the need to gorge himself. As possibly the smallest Chaser, he would also likely be kicked out of the Running after a short while, anyway. But Cabarath had something going for him that the other Chasers, besides maybe Mordanth, did not. He had been a Weyrling for almost all of his life. Weyrlings, by rule, could not fly or use their wings other than daily exercises until a certain age. Even then, they were forbidden to fly with Theirs on their backs until another certain age.

The point: Cabarath had been walking and running far longer than he’d been flying.

As it were, while flying just came so naturally to him, Cabarath’s walking skills were superb. Coupled with his un-ordinarily long legs, Cabarath had a better chance for catching Semith. The problem was… the dragons were all larger than him, even the blues who chased… and Cabarath had to move very quickly to keep up with them. It made him slightly saddened that he would never be as big as them. But he knew he was better than them anyway. After all, which other colors, new colors he should say, were Chasing Semith? None! At least not yet. It made him happy that he was the first to dare such a thing. Even if Semith was his mother.

Cabarath would never have been able to Chase her in the skies; he was just too small and his stamina was just too little for him to even begin to think about Chasing her in the sky. But on the ground, Cabarath had the distinct advantage of… well, we won’t go over that again. And his lust for her was just as much as any other male dragon’s lust; it mattered not that she was his mother or he was her son. Dragons don’t care about inbreeding, after all. It made Cabarath feel happy that he was Chasing alongside his clutch-father for his clutch-mother, but that was all they were to him; he had only known that Mordanth was his clutch-father because of overhearing T’ron, and the mother’s ties to the babies were often severed the moment after birth. Semith had tried to push those ties, and Cabarath gave her credit for doing so, but in the end, Cabarath’s feelings for her were the same as feelings for any gold (at least he assumed, as there were no other gold dragons at Warden’s).

From ahead, Semith declared that the trees bit. This aroused a self-satisfied chuckle from the small gray. The blues might be having a hard time trying to fit through the trees, and Faranth forbid the bronzes or browns snaking along as gracefully as he was. The chuckle turned into a sort of purr that flowed deep from his throat and turned into a full-on hum. Semith liked gifts; he was giving her one, even if it wasn’t shiny or she couldn’t hear it. The trees have nothing on you, Semith~ Cabarath’s velvety voice was overlaid with husky want for the golden beauty, The trees do not own you; you are the gold of the Weyr; put the trees in their place!

For his part, T’ron was surprised at Leshta’s sudden outcry of no more apologies. He shrunk back a bit but felt Cabarath’s pull as strong as ever, and the gray’s want stockpiled his defenses against her outbursts. As a first-time Chaser, he had thought it only fair to apologize, but apparently apologizing was not the best thing to do. So he would not do it. Already his suave self again, perhaps with a bit more uumph because of the Flight, he smiled in much the way Cabarath might smile if he could. “I did not mean to offend,” he said, drawling out the last word with luxury, sort of how Cabarath purred out some of his words. “I only meant to inform. But I won’t be in charge of my mind soon. It was just a warning.”

[lithle]

Whipped by branches and scraped by tree bark, Semith was beginning to think following the beach again may have been the better decision for Running. She hurt. She had never much liked hurting and her life had been, physically, a life of ease. She didn't know the exhaustion of those dragons who flew the patrols, she'd never had to experience it.

She was beginning to experience exhaustion now, as she wound her way through the forest, her friends calling out sweet compliments as she bounded onward. The calls encouraged her, kept her moving. She didn't want to let anyone down by not running far enough, she had to lead the sort of chase they expected!

Oh, but this was the best game she'd ever had. Her eyes whirled violet, but even now, that violet was touched with joyous blue. Her friends were always so busy, so often too busy for her. To have this attention now, to gather friends around her and bring them rushing, darting, playing and lusting through the forest, it chased away those few shadows that too often haunted the lighthearted queen.

Her darting, unpredictable path brought her up to the bank of a river. It was a young river, deep, but still slow and winding. It was wide enough for her to leap in one great bound, her tail slapping the water and sending up a spray of droplets to mingle with the rain. Her chasers, though, they would have a more difficult time. It was a difficult leap for any dragon but a gold, and while a brief flight was possible the trees wouldn't make such a thing easy. She slowed, as she reached the other side. She didn't want anyone too close, but she didn't want to leave them behind, either.

Leshta was trying very hard not to giggle like an idiot. Semith's joy was as infectious as her need and as their bond drew them closer, wove them together into one, that joy was what most overwhelmed her. Perhaps because she wanted to. It was in her nature, to some extent, to fight lust. But it wasn't in her to fight Semith's happiness, not when she had so little of her own. The lust came like the burn of alcohol with a particularly sweet drink, she felt it, but the sugar distracted her.

She was smiling, a smile without bitterness or warning. The smile of a woman who'd gathered her friends and loved ones around her, and found joy in that company.

Of course, she hadn't. Part of her knew that. Most of her didn't care. She turned her face up to the rain, letting it soak her already wet face. Finally, as some sense of the now reasserted herself, she lowered her gaze, acknowledging the late arrival with a short nod. "Was wondering who was missing." She murmured, her voice a low whisper.

Her gaze shifted, brushing over the grayrider and the stumbling Master Dragonhealer. She extended a hand to the woman, withdrew it before reaching her. Turned to look at T'di.

"We're happy," she said, her words thick with urgency but lightened by joy. "T'di, you know it won't be Mordanth, not twice. But I'm okay. We're happy."

[S'yal]

Trusith let out a yelp of surprise as the prize leaped over the river, the brown trying to slide to a stop. Unfortunately, lack of skill on the ground resulted in the brown tumbling head over heels into the water, letting out sudden cries of shock the entire time. The water shocked him, but after a minute he managed to right himself and cross the river properly. Unfortunately, this put the young male behind in the running, earning sad little whimpers from the brown. Especially now that he was covered in scrapes and soaking to add to the fact he was losing. But Semith had waited, and thus Trusith didn’t lose sight of the golden beauty.

He chirped pleasantly to her as he shook water from his hide, before gladly returning to the running. This was exciting, this was fun! He really had to Chase more often- Yari probably wouldn’t like it, but Trusith wasn’t thinking of Yari. Trusith was thinking of Chasing and Catching and all those lovely things that dragons (and teenage boys) thought about.

Yari was… less happy then her dragon. His happiness was infectious, yes, but even like this some of the anger and gloom that was Yari broke through. A frown pulled at her face, her arms crossing over her chest.