It was a rare day, considering that late-winter in Telgar was often cruel. There had been a few rises in temperature lately, even a few melts, but always things cooled back down again. On this day, however, the sun was strong enough to begin seriously wearing down the ice that gripped the north. As the day wore on a lack of cloud cover meant that most weyrfolk went about their days with their sleeves rolled up to take advantage of the warmer weather. The lucky few who had just gotten off of duty or who had the day off, even a few patients in the infirmary, were all lounging about and attempting to soak up the sun. A few brave souls even dared the waters of the lake, though they didn't stay in the water long.
Ixiara was lying on her back on top of Ghinath, looking up at the sky. The pair had found a secluded spot up on the cliffs to settle down on. Ghinath did not approve, and had been surly the whole morning. She wanted to sunbathe by the lake; at this time of day the sun would be strong enough that melting snow wouldn't be a nuisance. Ixiara had other ideas, though. She'd been snappish lately, feeling irritated even by the sight of another person. It had gotten bad enough that the logical part of her mind was shocked by it, but now had very little control. She thought that she knew what was coming, but since this was her green's first cycle Ixiara couldn't be sure. The senior riders seemed to think that she was close to rising, at any rate, and as of the previous day the pair had been weyrbound. Without sweepriding duties to ease her frustration Ixiara had begun to feel penned in. Ghinath, on the other hand, seemed to be fine and was exhibiting none of the symptoms her girl was. On the contrary, she had begun trying to socialize with almost everyone that she came across. This annoyed Ixiara slightly, but she put up with it. Besides, everything annoyed her lately. If Ghinath was in a good enough mood to even be kind to Urisdaeth, whom she usually teased quite a bit, Ixiara wasn't going to spoil it. It was an odd reversal of temperaments; usually Ixiara was the one who smoothed Ghinath's moods over. Now things were the other way around.
'Couldn't we go down even for a little while?' The green asked plaintively, curling her neck around to look down at Ixiara. The sun danced across her deep green hide and Ixiara smiled softly, knowing how pleased Ghinath had been by the new intensity of her color. Automatically she reached her hand up to touch Ghinath's jaw, rubbing gently with her fingertips. The pair stayed that way for several long moments in silent communion.
'I don't want to,' she answered, her tone softer than her words. She could never be irritable with Ghinath. 'I'll end up biting someone's head off.' Ghinath snorted. The resulting whoosh of air blew Ixiara's hair about like a windstorm, and she laughed.
'You wouldn't. Your mouth is not big enough.'
'It's a figure of speech, as you very well know.'
'I want to watch the water…'
Ixiara sighed, noting the time and realizing that she had kept Ghinath up here for quite a while. It really wasn't fair to cut off the dragon completely, even if Ixiara didn't feel like being friendly herself.
'Fine, love. Drop me by the entrance to the living caverns, though. I'll go back to our weyr.'
'You won't stay with me?' Ghinath asked, nuzzling Ixiara gently as the girl shifted to the riding position. 'I would enjoy it more if you were there.' Ixiara's resolve wavered.
'I guess…' she sighed, 'I'll take a nap. Can't bite if I'm not awake.'
Trilling a little, Ghinath spread her wings and made the short hop to the edge of their cliff. Diving off, she caught a draft and began gliding across the bowl toward the lake. Ixiara leaned forward to be down out of the wind and clung tightly with her legs, cautioning Ghinath against any sudden moves, to compensate for their absent riding straps, but smiling despite herself. There was something ethereal about flight on a dragon. Was it the wind against her body or Ghinath's that she felt so keenly? Did she view the bowl through her own eyes or through the sharper ones of her green's? There were no wings on her back, but she still felt the play of muscles and the touch of the air. Ghinath backwinged smoothly and landed in a relatively empty area. If a few of the other dragons lifted their heads to watch the pair, neither of the girls paid them any attention. Considerately, Ghinath had chosen a spot next to a boulder Ixiara could sit on. The girl slid down, giving Ghinath's muzzle a long hug before climbing up onto the sun-warmed boulder. Ghinath blinked and settled down, watching her reflection and experimenting a bit with different positions until she found one that she liked. The green was forever analyzing her own appearance and using it to her advantage, by now it was second nature for her to note the angle of the sun and its intensity and arrange herself for the best effect on her hide. The day was clear, but there was enough wind to stir up small waves on the shore of the lake. It was very peaceful. Ghinath lay so still that she might have been stone, watching her reflection in the gently rippling surface of the lake, breathing slowly in and out. Ixiara was just as still, lying with her eyes closed and feeling the sun on her face. If she concentrated hard enough she could imagine that it was spring, and the swishing of deep green grass was in her ears, and that the wind was soft across her face… she drifted off to the sound of waves, echoed by the thoughts of her dragon.
Water can wear away at anything. Slowly and surely, drop by drop, even the hardest stone will melt away before its onslaught. Give water enough time and it would be capable of moving mountains and carving out the earth. So too, did Ghinath's thoughts slowly spread out from the lake. Inevitable as the oncoming tide, cold, stealthy, but tingling with energy, her thoughts touched the minds of other dragons. Individual drops in a dark pool of water, each one a spine-chilling but alluring note in the song of her mind. Promise lurked beneath the surface, subtle as the flick of a fin caught briefly in the sunlight, slightly hypnotic and... challenging. The lilting end of each note was both playful and defiant, sliding smoothly forward to touch before flipping deftly and coyly away. An open invitation, a challenge. Did anyone wish to play a game?
On a high weyrledge, another dragon was suddenly and completely awake. Brown Hath had had his eye on the young green down by the lake for over a week now, since her symptoms had first begun appearing. He felt the touch of her mind and knew instantly that she was about to rise in flight. 'Ghinath!'
He mounted the dragon, and Hath glided down to the bowl and deposited his rider. B'ron asked for Ixiara's whereabouts from Hath and received them, as well as references of the surrounding area. It took some prodding but finally B'ron understood the dragon's garbled directions and took off toward the lake. Hath vaulted into the air, his back legs powerfully propelling him. B'ron sternly forced Hath to watch him and make sure he arrived at the lake safely. The dragon chafed at the order but obeyed, using his aerial sight to guide his rider to Ixiara's side.
As soon as B'ron reached the greenrider Hath took his focus off of him, searching for the vibrant green hide of Ghinath. He was eager, ready to chase this green to the ends of Pern if necessary. He felt B'ron's encouragement and reveled in it, taking strength. He was not the fastest but he could endure more than most of the other browns, not to mention the smaller blues. And endure, he would.
'Hath, try. Try as hard as you can to win Ghinath. If you don't I won't hold you to blame, old boy, but please fly as well as you can. I don't want . . You understand, Hath. I love you, you big lug. Good luck.'
With that, conversation with his dragon ended and they were abruptly one. He exulted when his eyes landed on the glowing hide of Ghinath, and heard Hath's loud bugle -- an acceptance of her challenge. The pair was here, and was ready. The rider's love strengthening the dragon's determination.
The illusion of an easy win was shattered when a rush of air announced another presence. A blue dragon circled downward, his rider approaching with the punch-drunk walk of someone resisting a rutting male dragon's urges. Ar'den wasn't quite sure what he was doing, trying to prove himself by chasing a green, but any flight was worth trying for: and catching her certainly couldn't hurt. Worse for Hath and B'ron, however, was the next arrival.
A shadow passed over those hovering and those on the ground. The dragon it belonged to was a small bronze, pale in color, short in the wing, but with an air of icy calm; seemingly untouched by the rising excitement of those present. He did not land on the ground but hovered, like the others, knowing that the green would rise soon. Eyes that seemed sunken in beneath jutting eye ridges swept once over the two other males, contemptuously, before returning to the green. Zeloth loathed her. A beauty filled with pride, yet shallow and only barely entertaining. Useless. Yet… he felt that he could make her interesting to him. He could see her at her most vulnerable, her most exposed, and feel with her something that might be worthwhile, might mean something. The bronze did not bugle or display, he was here: he had honored her with his presence. He would chase her, see her fly before him, and run her race. It was enough.
…The sun was warm against her back as she lay still, warming her all along her spinal cord and down to the very tips of her toes. She sensed, rather than saw, the others drawing closer. Subtly, something slid into place at the realization that they were here. It was as it should be, it was right. They belonged here, yes, she wanted them close. Never had someone else seemed so... appealing to her. A little shiver of excitement prompted her to raise her head and look around at them, a somewhat smug feeling rising within her, desire shaping slowly from instinct.
Ixiara woke without knowing she had fallen asleep. She was dizzy, disoriented, as if she were still within her dream. Something seemed to have fogged her mind. It was difficult to think, and she looked around blinking in the sunlight. The two men standing nearby and the third figure hurrying toward them registered only faintly with her.
Ghinath was no longer lying indolently along the shoreline. She was very much awake, standing on all four of her feet, her tail lashing back and forth. A low growl that was almost a purr came slowly from her throat as she arched her neck. Ixiara blinked, raising a hand to her forehead. The calm, flowing river of Ghinath's thoughts had changed so drastically that it was frightening. As the green slowly waved her head back and forth Ixiara felt the pull of her dearest friend's thoughts. Had she not been lying down already she would have fallen to the ground. Confused, she reached out for the mental touch of her dragon, her hand lifting automatically as well. Though the green was the source of her confusion, she was also a steadying influence that could usually be relied upon. Ghinath's nostrils dilated and she swiveled her head around to look at the girl, her eyes whirling a vibrant ruby red. A wave of mental heat rushed around Ixiara, surrounding her, suffocating her, and she gasped. Ixiara's eyes became unfocused and she shook her head to try and get some grasp back on her senses. It was as if she had unwisely gone too far from shore, and now her legs had been swept from under her by the pull of the water and yet... and yet, it was... thrilling. Though it only worsened her own unbalanced state, she clung even tighter to Ghinath's presence and was rewarded with another pulse of energy and stimulation.
The green was not in the least confused, standing proudly and fanning her wings. Slowly, her eyes pulsing in time with the glow of her hide she crouched down. She was certain now, of what she must do; what she needed to do. She would fly, far and fast, high above the weyr. And her males, she laughed inwardly at the thought, delighted, would follow. They would follow because, in this instance, they were hers: hers as much as the girl she loved. She noted the presence of the two she had been hoping most to see, and her pleasure redoubled. Trilling, she wrapped her mind more firmly around Ixiara's, intoxicating and possessive. This was her moment, their moment, did she not feel it? They were together, they were strong, and they were unconquerable. The last vestiges of conscious thought faded away, and just like that there was no dividing line between the pair.
Bronze Zeloth's rider dashed madly towards the group, irritation at being left behind strong in him. In that split second when Ghinath rose, however, his irritation was replaced by something much more. A kind of barrier that had existed between himself and his Zeloth shattered in that moment, and L'iam felt something with his bronze that he never had before. Zeloth was there in a new, indescribable way. He was Zeloth and Zeloth was L'iam and they were together. They were nothing without one another. He felt, before they became truly one, a great agitation with him: with the idea that he should be so easily pulled in, but it did not matter. Their destinies were two strings that together formed a stronger rope. Existing without the other made them weak, and weakness was not something either would tolerate. This was how they truly belonged! As dragon and rider, together, powerful and strong!
L'iam felt his vision blur, found himself with Ghinath, found himself staring at the wide-open space between him and Ixiara. He did not see Ar'den and B'ron, much in the same way that Zeloth began to disregard both the brown and blue. Those foolish weaklings, didn't they understand? That drug of need, of water and fire belonged to him! L'iam stumbled for a moment, a hand flying to his forehead to try and stop those thoughts, but, as he neared, he felt a searing lance tear through him. She was ready! He tensed for the spring.
Leaning her head back over her shoulders and blinking a few flirtatious times Ghinath sent the strongest wave yet of emotion and sensation to her suitors, blue, bronze and brown, and echo of the pulsing need growing within her. And then she was aloft and winging away from them all. A piercing whistle of challenge escaping with her breath as the air rushed past her hide, caressing her almost. Within a few wing beats she was soaring over the cliffs and into the bright sky beyond.
The blue was the fastest into the air, but by no means the most impressive. Hath, too, was quick to the uptake: his head snapping around to follow the green hide of his quarry. He was after her in a heartbeat, but it was not fast enough. The green's piercing whistle was suddenly met with a scratchy roar: L'iam's need to be known and heard overpowered Zeloth's normal silence as they became one. Zeloth's wings began their slow beats, propelling him upwards. He was not a dancer; there was no grace nor speed. There was only Ghinath's path that he needed to follow. Hath, focused on his quarry, did not stoop to hissing, but he made his dislike of the bronze's presence quite clear.
Ghinath, aware of the competition and ill feeling between her two largest males, was delighted. Reveling in the newfound strength of her limbs she simply flew in lazy, swooping zigzag patterns; discovering her heightened agility. The bright sun above her, the sparkling snowscapes below her, the chill and bite to the air all stimulated her senses in a way she had never known before. It all looked new, somehow. On the ground Ixiara's face was alive with the joy the pair felt. The distance to the guest weyr set aside for flights was no great task for the group, and they were making their way there without trouble. But the greenrider was unaware of such trivialities: she was in the skies with Ghinath. She was Ghinath, and Ghinath was her. To swoop and dive, to feel every inch of her body responding to her commands so effortlessly was ecstasy in its purest form. She was swimming through a crystal ocean of ice and snow, free and strong!
She was reminded of the presence of the pursuing males, however, when one ambitious suitor drew closer to her, and lazily turning her head over her shoulder she observed them. They had all kept pace with her so far, she saw and was delighted to know. An upsurge of affection for them all rose within her, a desire to have and keep each one forever. They were hers to lure in or to discourage as she chose, and the things that belonged to her were special indeed. She would play with her dragons, she decided.
Encouraging them on with an expert flash of her emerald hide and an alluring croon sent back to them on the breeze, Ghinath slowed her wing strokes. To each one she sent an invitation, expressing her desire for them and encouraging them to come forward to her: to dive down beneath the surface of the waters with her and to languish there in ecstasy.
Watching them sharply but disguising it beneath half-lidded eyes, she lazily rolled over in the air several times. She could sense excitement from them as they began to draw closer, sensed that they were perhaps close to forgetting themselves. Zeloth, her bronze, was speeding closer. She sensed his eagerness to accept her invitation, yet saw too that he was holding himself slightly in reserve's suspecting her trick. He was correct, then, wasn't he? Chittering a happy little trill she brushed the very tip of her tail against his forearm and dropped like a stone. Flapping once or twice she gained momentum, streaking towards the frozen river below. Just before it would have become dangerous, she pulled neatly out of the dive and began soaring along the path of the river; holding her present altitude and watching for the outcome of her trick.
Two followed with no trouble, but one, she was dismayed to see, faltered and suddenly ceased the chase. The others soon pulled far ahead, and the straggler was behind without hope of recovery.
In the weyrbowl far behind the group, B'ron was clutching his shoulder. He had hit it harder than he'd thought in his mad rush out of his weyr. It was this pain that roused Hath from his passion; that kept his rider on the brink of consciousness as well. Pain that was steadily growing. There was only one option, really.
Hath pulled upward, rising away from the bevy of dragons with a mighty pump, and then another. His mind was still on the chase -- a fraction of it, at least. Another part of him was solely on B'ron. The two were so entwined (as is often the case in mating flights) that B'ron's pain was Hath's pain. The dragon could hardly distinguish one from the other: yet his wing still functioned. His mind was in a flurry, a frenzy, being snatched from paramount lust to another extreme feeling. His eyes were whirling in confusion and distress. Hath knew he had to find his B'ron.
"Hath- Hath!" B'ron cried. His eyes were blind but he could feel the brown's presence mentally, hear his wings, and feel the heaviness in the air. He knew from the rising individual consciousness that the brown had given up. Hath came down hard, landing and leaving long furrows in the soft dirt beneath his claws.
'We hurt. We hurt!' Hath cried piteously inside his rider's mind, still confused.
"No, Hath, it's only a bump. Go- Go back. I - It's nothing ..." B'ron's breathing was labored, for the pain was intense. His right hand was clapped over his left shoulder, the injured one, as if by holding it he could mend it. Yet to give up because of something like this, to leave the first flight of the girl he loved to someone else, was almost as painful.
'You hurt! You do!'
Hath had come back to himself. While he still desired the beautiful green Ghinath, he was devoted to his rider in every sense, fathomed and unfathomed, of the word. B'ron was in such pain, there was absolutely no way he could consider leaving him. Now Hath willingly inserted himself more fully into his rider's mind, trying to ease the burden. The pain in his own wing had begun to fade with his return to lucidity, but he willingly took it back, his tail lashing.
'We will go to a healer'. Hath said. His tone left no room for argument and for once, B'ron did not insist.
'I'm very sorry, Hath.' B'ron said silently. His remorse filled his heart and throat for Hath's sake. It was not in B'ron's nature to burden down his dragon. His blindness was bad enough. The dragon had to watch for him and point him places, and see things for him. Now he couldn't even fly, and the reason was an indirect result of his sharding inability to see.
'Ghinath is a green. She will fly many more times and then we will catch her then,' Hath said sensibly, the last vestiges of desire fading as the pain in his wing throbbed. There was the depression of being roused to performance level and then dashed, but Hath was confident that he had done the right thing for B'ron. The others were out of sight now, Hath saw, and B'ron deliberately did not think of the group in the ground level weyr as he went to the infirmary, his shoulder sending waves of pain down to the very tips of his toes.
The flight continued. A small part of Ghinath, the part that felt that unreasonable, illogical desire to keep all of them, the part that likely came from Ixiara, was terribly saddened. On the ground, as the group of three humans entered the weyr, Ixiara stumbled in her dismay. The strong arms of Ar'den as they caught her, however, banished such thoughts and gave her even more reason to feel coquettish. The majority of her was thrilled with what she saw as the success of her trick, and she almost bugled the upwelling of her smug pride. Her hands lingered on the muscled arms that held her, and she traced the blue line of a vein with one fingertip in a ticklish light fashion.
If Ghinath had gloried in flying high, she was enthralled by the challenge of negotiating the river. The many twists and turns the river took as it flowed between its beds made for a delightful racetrack for the green. Now, speed was her main focus. She wanted to see how fast she could really go: how fast she could soar over the surface of the icy waters, watching the sunbeams flare up beneath her, the water too choppy to reflect anything but light. She almost writhed in the air, moving her entire body into the turns, missing disaster by inches but knowing with certainty that she had perfect control of herself all the while. She forgot her suitors in the thrill of it, the wonder of what she could do and how.
Zeloth was quite pleased that the middle-boy had dropped out of their contest: now there was only the speed and and agility of the blue to challenge him. He hovered above the other two: unable to go lower for fear of losing too much momentum. Yet he was close enough and from here, he could see every beautiful movement just as well. Like any faithful worshiper, he kept his distance from his idol, yet longed to extend an arm and touch it, even if it was just a ghost for only a few seconds. His arm burned where she had touched him. He was suddenly aware, however, of something else tingling on the edge of awareness.
Below, Ixiara was moving. Ar'den had been slow to release her, and she experimented a little with him in the meantime. Had she been herself, the girl never would have traced her fingers up and down the other rider's arm, never would have dared to teasingly brush below his jaw line before leaning her face in closer to his neck. But her mind was playing games with Ghinath in the air, and just as Ixiara influenced some of Ghinath's tricks Ghinath now influenced Ixiara's. To see what he would do then, she pulled back and stepped away. In the back of her mind Ixiara knew who the victor would be, but she would play with her males while they were here. Keeping half lidded eyes locked with the bluerider's she backed up slowly until her right arm brushed against the chest of her other suitor. A shudder of delight ran through her at being this close to him, an old indignant injury making her relish having him here in her power. She leaned in closer to the bronzerider, feeling the tension in him, and very, very faintly brushed the tips of her lips against his jaw before flitting away as she had with Ar'den.
Ghinath felt the frustration from the two males following her and was absolutely delighted. A small warning came to her from her well of age-old instinct, however. Down below them, almost touching the river, she had very few options of where to go. She should fly higher again, into the freedom of open air, but how to do it without drawing too close to them? It would be tricky, she knew, and began watching the terrain for anything that might help. Around a bend of trees ahead the river dropped to a waterfall surrounded by sheer, rocky cliffs. Ah... the cliffs. They would provide good support - the trick would be doing the actual maneuver. Still, she laughed joyously, she was confident in her abilities. Sweeping around the turn as if she would shoot out over the falls and straight ahead, she suddenly banked with the lightening reflexes and agility of a green dragon. It was time to be quick, or her own momentum would send her tumbling onto the ground and into the trees!
Grasping the hard surface of the rocky ledge in her claws she used it to steer herself and provide a launching surface: she altered her direction to back the way they had come, feeling the strain it put on her legs but moving before they could twist or wrench, shooting off the hard surface like an arrow and rising into the sky at the exact moment that Ixiara pulled away from L'iam. If she had known how risky it was to try, she likely wouldn't have, but lost in the thrill of her flight, she paid no attention to such small details as personal safety. Besides, it had worked! She was soaring higher once again, laughing to herself in delighted anticipation of the effects of her trick.
The blue was left behind, at the limit of his strength and confused by the abrupt change. Zeloth, too, had been following so close that he overshot the falls. Ghinath's shift caught him by complete surprise and he scrambled to stop. For a moment, he hung suspended, the ground looping in front of him. He released his air, steam shooting in clouds and whorls from between his teeth. Zeloth was certain that he had cost himself the flight, but his perverse desire to rise to any challenge set before him forced him to sweep around and rise up. Almost completely turned, the bronze's wings suddenly caught a thermal and it aided him in ascending after Ghinath. Blue Famuth made a valiant attempt but could not follow, and was left mournfully looking upward after the pair. On the ground, L'iam smirked. Yes, she was tricky, he thought, rising after her.
Tricky, beautiful, and worth the pain in his wings. For a moment, he was surprised that the blue had not beaten him to the rise. Not that it mattered, of course. All that mattered was that he was here, beneath her and closing the distance as quickly as his size would allow, ready to follow her to the end of Pern and back if she would continue.
Having regained a decent altitude, Ghinath was content to maintain it and wait for her males to catch up to her. Her need to fly away was also diminishing beneath an urge even more primal than the chase, and she resolved to chose between the two that remained. Making a slow, smooth roll in the air she looked below her. It was with a slight twinge of dismay that she first noticed the blue's absence, but it was quickly swallowed by triumph. Unconquered, and having outlasted all but the bronze swiftly rising towards her, she made quite a sight sweeping low to fly close, but not too close, beside him. She was vaguely gratified to see it was Zeloth, an old sore spot she rarely took note of healing over some. The unattainable was not always as impossible as it seemed, and for once she seemed to have his undivided attention. Better; she had had her turn in playing difficult to attain. Feeling somewhat vindicated, and not a little pleased with herself, she swept her head around to look him in the eye, a croon in her throat that, for all its softness, was clearly an open invitation. Her hints, cajoling and enticement from before returned, but no longer a passing brush of liquidity: now they were nothing less than a wave. Even in the act of communicating them, she shocked herself into a delighted shiver as she swept around the bronze: just close enough to be within reach, but far enough away to remain tantalizing. Over, under, side to side and ahead. Her nature prompted her to make even the final gesture of acceptance a challenge, though she softened it with her clear willingness to receive him.
Below, hardly noticing that Ar'den was gone, the last restraint of the greenrider was gone and she found herself toe to toe with L'iam. If the raw urges Ghinath communicated to her suitors was irresistible, then what she shared with Ixiara was earth-shattering. Her hands on either side of his face, she attacked his neck, trailing down to beneath his throat and his chest, feeling him respond to her and return her attentions in ways she hadn't dreamed of.
He knew that he had won, and the sense of pride from both males was overwhelming. They flew side-by-side for a moment, and Zeloth reflected again on her beauty, though, with the emotions close to reaching their zenith, he cared little for her prideful attitude about it. What he would feel later hardly seemed to have an effect on the now, when being near her green hide was intoxicating to the point of driving him insane. Her eyes met his, and her croon seemed to invite him closer. The bronze creature who had scarcely uttered any noise of approval or affection in his life hummed his first, feeling Ghinath's senses again with him, with more strength than they had ever before possessed. She brushed him and he moved closer, rumbling slightly as she pulled just a little further away. Zeloth took her momentary weakness after to fly closer to join the two, bright and pale, into one.