Panchali's Flight

Late afternoon finds Eastern Weyr basking in soaring temperatures and heavy humidity; the air is sticky and hot, and most of the Weyr's residents find themselves dragging their feet in the intense heat. But Ahriszajith doesn't seem to notice the fact that it's /much/ too hot to exert incredible amounts of energy. The green is stalking around the outer edges of the fenced-in feeding grounds, hungrily eyeing the beasts scattered in fear. Instead of pouncing and feeding, the lanky green throws her head back and a scream is ripped from her throat, the call reverberating through the air. It's a fierce battle cry, challenging to any males in the area; the telltale glow permeating Ahriszajith's dark emerald hide to make it seem bright and flawless, like a priceless gem.

Though Kieranth basks placatingly in the shadows of the bowl to avoid the sun's rays, the challange is not unheard by him, bringing the night colored blue to flight and towards the feeding grounds. Giving a roar of his own, the blue answers Ahriszajith's very call, eyes whirling a purprlish red as he lands on the outside of the grounds. Lashing his tail as he walks tentively closer, the small dragon seems to be gauging the green, before he sits on his haunches tensely, fanning out his wings in the heat. Ladies first, after all. He stands once again, pacing like a predator on the edge, waiting…

Dozing and welcoming the sun's warmth upon sandy wings, Mayikooth had found a spot where he could nap undisturbed, wings extended. Like a dune he rests there, until the green's challenge is given. Then, like a sand storm he rises and is soon at the feeding grounds. A rumble and a trumpet answer that call before he lands, wings half-extended as he waits: once again the calm desert sands. Low rumbles are given, almost in warning, to the other males that are drawn in.

For a moment, Ahriszajith sits back on her haunches, the epitome of a well-mannered lady. Her eyes whirl slowly, bright purple and raging red as they regard both of her suitors cautiously. Her nostrils flare as she breathes in deep, the musky scent of both males bringing about a sudden shift in mood. Without any sort of warning, Ahriszajith goes from as calm and collected as a smooth, dark night — to as ravashing and devastating as a tempestuous sandstorm. The lithe green's wings are throw open, catching an updraft as the bunched muscles in her haunches are let spring, shooting the green into the air like a rocket. She cries out for her two suitors to follow, her call not as challenging as previously — but still throaty and demanding.

Kieranth turns his head a little as he sees more competitors show to challange him for the dark, green beauty. Etending his head towards the brown he recognises, a tongue slithers out with a deep hiss, wings arching to make him look bigger then he actually is. Then, as he turns back to the dragon in question, he finds her suddenly lifting to the skies— Only for a second does the blue look to the feeding grounds, almost as if yearning to get a chance to rip apart the beasts, and blooding his muzzle. But, the lifting green wins out and the midnight blue crunches together the muscles in his back limbs, surging himself upwards and into the air after Ahriszajinth, making the vital downward stroke as he does so. Fly fast and far, oh emerald, for the hunt is as fun as the capture.

The hiss earns another rumbling threat from the large brown. His desire is stronger, surely! For he is bigger. When the green takes off, he gives a trumpet in answer: in yearning. Those strong haunches give the large brown height and a downsweep of sandy wings sends the storm into the skies, giving chase to the green emerald. She must be saved from herself, yes? And who better to do so than the dashing hero that is Mayikooth.

Dhonzayth may be a tad behind, but even as the green goes from calm and collected to a horrible sandstorm driven beast, Dhonzayth is already in the air, already having overcome the problem of gravity as he drops from the cliff face, having found a rather sunny spot to perch for the time. And so, upon pale bronzen wings he dives downwards towards the feeding grounds, trumpeting as he flies low upon a distant herd startling them once more before he pulls out of the dive, downward momentum turned to his advantage as he zooms skyward once more. No sandstorm is too much for the Istan to brave, and he intercepts the green's call to those already in the grounds as one to himself, trumpeting once more.

Dulacth arrives on scene a bit late, but just in time to see the lady take to the sky launching from the ground behind the other chasers, surging upwards towards the green lady. Fast stroking of wings and a croon is heard as he gains speed trying to make up for lost ground, the antics not scaring him for he has come to calm the storm.

She /must/ fly faster, she /must/ fly farther away, she /won't/ let them catch her! Through clear skies the green shoots, wings sweeping back and down to propel her ahead of the pack of males giving chase. Yes, the chase is fun — so why would she want to give in, and end the chase? As is any green's chase, Ahriszajith's is filled with daring acrobatics and the characteristic agility and speed of her color. Climbing higher and higher, Ahriszajith is a bit foolish in the sense that she ascends, perhaps, a tad /too/ high. The green sees spots of color dance in her vision as she tucks her wings close to her sides and drops, spiralling as she falls down past her suitors, offering them nothing but a whiplash from her thin tail as she careens towards the ground. The tempestuous storm that is the emerald green rages on, a snarl given as she throws her wings open, saving herself from certain death upon collision with the ground. As she flies low and parallel to the ground, Ahriszajith cranes her head skywards to watch the quartet of males above her, snarling a challenge to them (especially that big bronze!) to try and perform such a daring stunt as she just has.

Dhonzayth has learned long ago that when a green resorts to the quick acrobatics and daring stunts that their color adore so, all he can do is play the waiting game. So, as she climbs higher and higher, he remains far below, head tilted to keep a large, faceted eye settled upon the emerald form in the clear sky - no clouds to hide her position from him. While she spirals and twists, he merely banks bank and forth, maintaining his altitude, and maintaining his careful watch. And then, as she drops dangerously towards the ground, it seems his hesitation has paid off, for she's on the way down, and he has saved precious energy by refusing to attempt such a step climb. The equally steep fall, however, he has no qualms with mimicking, for wings are folded to his back and he drops his head to dive dangerously downwards, pulling his head up at the last minute to slow his descent before wings open and he swings into a fast glide, banking left and right for position as he follows her low to the ground.

Kieranth feels a surge of elation at the challange, watching suddenly as she dives towards the earth. Now /this/ is his ground, his time to shine, for the tiny blue might not be one for the stamina of his larger bronzen brothers, but his agility is only upsurped by the same as that which eludes him. The green's snarl is answered with a wicked croon of his own, almost encouragement, but also twisted with his own yearning. To have such a agile creature. Following her higher before, the navy blue suddenly clips his wings in and lets himself be taken in by the vary gravity he saught to defy moments before, suddenly opening those sails as he nears her position. Seemingly gauging his own speed, the blue follows after her in a position slightly above and behind her, to better have view of both her and those whom pursue. The nearest him earn a snap of his teeth and a growl, even as he attempts to prevail along after his prey, his sky diamond.

When storms clash, there is only room for thunder and the power of nature itself. Mayikooth is not a storm of rain and winds. He is a storm of sand: wild and fast. He may be large and not as nimble as the blue that also gives chase, but he pushes himself to his limits. As soon as it registers that the green he desires has gone into a dive and has issued a challenge, he tucks his wings close and trumpets his answer. He will call that challenge! Down, down, down the sand-blasted brown dives, twisting and snaking to avoid the other pursuers. He does not wait to be so close to the ground as Ahriszajith to open his wings, but he does snap them open and welcomes the brief ensuing updraft to regain his senses and glide in the green's wake. Save for avoidance, the others that seek the glowing emerald seem out of Mayikooth's mind. His focus is single-minded: to prove himself and to be the hero.

The wind flowing over cinnamon brown hide as the green takes risks, as the Ahriszajith flys higher Dulacth takes on a diagonal path upward towards the fair maiden he is destined to save from the other males. As she drops down he turns on wingtip diving towards her not being the largest nor smallest he has the best of both and strains to get as close as he can, for he above all else is meant to have this lady, tucking his wings and catching an updraft he is batteling for his right to court such a fine lady, he must save her from those others.

Who has pinned Ahriszajith for a damsel in distress? Snarling with defiance and rebellion, the green is anything /but/ a maiden who needs rescuing! Her flights are full of daring stunts and acrobatics for a reason — she seeks a male as agile and cunning as herself, someone who will be right alongside her as she darts, dives, rockets, and climbs. A brief pause from all the stunts is allowed, as Ahriszajith maintains a fairly fast pace at a slightly climbing angle. She rises steadily, catching drafts here and there to save what precious energy the green has. Her flights are notoriously short, but quite a spectacle to behold. Calling to her quartet of suitors, Ahriszajith encourages them with a sweet and sugary croon, a rare display of intimacy and affection from the flighty green.

A contrast to the green, the dull, but wild colors of a desert fly behind at a steady pace. Mayikooth doesn't have the speed or agility of those smaller than he, but he makes up for it in stamina. He may be passed up, that is true, but the storm can wait. The green flees before him and he follows: steady, steady. All tire in the end. He does not snarl at those alongside him. No. He doesn't notice them: they can be swept up in that blinding sand. It is she who runs from him that he is focused upon. Why does she run? Why does she flee? Why does she play this game when he is here to conquer all for her? There's a trumpet and the brown's eyes narrow to slits as he continues on.

Dhonzayth is unphased by the snarling, the show of defiance, merely continuing his chase after the fleeing green, taking refugee in the abandonment of her various stunts, as the bronze attempts to remain above her as she climbs, sliding into a thermal and letting it help his upward flight before sliding out of it and into another, against spiraling upwards with the green always in sight. Perhaps there is a lack of agility, though with his size, moves that are otherwise second nature for the smaller colors do require a certain touch of it for him. As she croons sweetly, its the driving force Dhonzayth needs, pale wings driving him in continued pursuit. She will be his!

Kieranth seemingly answers once again with a croon, assauging Ahriszajith in her moment of anger. Turning that croon suddenly into a roar, taking that gauge that he had placed upon his speed and throwing it to the winds. Now is his time to strike, the prey is ready for the predator, perchance? Arching his wings to catch what he can in the winds, Kieranth attempts to bring himself closer to this defiant darkened green. Adjusting his wings according to her arch, the blue maintains his sudden increase in speed, twisting tail forward as his limbs reach to her, as well. He croons with a sweet and mellow song of his own, whirling facets a blur as her processes his emotions into them. Oh, what a worthy catch to be had, this female is, for once a green who holds her own, and doesn't need a savior! For he wishes not to be that, but a consort of the skies, in all it's untamed glory. The blue croon-growls, welcoming her into his embrace, if she is willing of the midnight blue.

It is /much/ too soon for Ahriszajith to be lured in by sweet calls and the allure of a warm embrace. Kieranth's attempt at so early a catch forces the green to whirl, slowling her pace so that as Kieranth comes ever closer, she flexes her talons, making it a point to show the blue she's /not/ ready to end the chase so soon. Reluctant to cause bodily harm, the green flips back over quickly and sweeps her wings backwards, gaining speed and putting a great distance between herself and the anxious Kieranth. The other three males are offered warble, a thanks if-you-will, for not attempting to cut short her run at freedom. But amidst all the insisting that she /isn't/ ready to be caught, it's evident that Ahriszajith is rapidly tiring. Her chest seems to heave with a bit more effort, her breathing quick and shallow. The tip of her tail twitches anxiously as she attempts to maintain a steady pace and distance from the pack of males — but to any bystanders who happen to be looking on, it's obvious that the gap between males and female is closing at an alarming rate. Defiant until the end, Ahriszajith is oblivious to her slipping lead, completely unaware of the fact that any of the males who have the gall to do so could just reach out and snare her tail…

Desire. Need. Lust. Yearning. Want. Mayikooth's eyes whorl in different shades as the feelings wash over and through him. No longer a rational being, this game of teasing acrobatics has pushed him to where he only thinks in abstracts: much of his focus and strength put solely into physical movements. He knows now. She is strong. She is quick. She may not need rescuing, but a partner instead. One to do that which she cannot. Mayikooth gives a triumphant bugle as he realizes she's slowing. The storm is arriving. The storm is catching up. The sand washes up and over and with a clip of wings, the brown gives a last push of strength to dive for that tail: to catch, to ensnare, to /have/.

Dhonzayth would laugh at Kieranth, if he could, instead the bronze merely rumbles and rises up towards the blue ever so slightly, as if trying to push the overeager male away from him, less the midnight's eagerness mar the rest of them. And then, feeling that he has done what he can, his attention is once more on the green, ignoring the other would-be interlopers on this, the last leg of the pursuit. For as the green tires, the bronze pulls from the reserved strength of his size, from his avoidance of unnecessary tricks. And so, spiraling higher upon the next thermal he gathers speed, before folding his wings and dropping after the emerald green, tail stretching for tail, neck for neck, hoping to ensnare the green and pull her from the sandstorm that is her fury.

Dulacth comes in behind her, trying to fill the gap and win this joust for the honor of lady Ahriszajith. Moving in towards he tail for he is in perfect position to take her as his own. Getting as close as he can and watching Kieranth so as no to collide he reaches out with his tail, if she will accept him he bugels his pride in her and yearning to be what she needs. The cinnamon brown promises in one bugel to exceed her expectations for he is only here for her if his attempt to catch suceeds he will be everything she needs an more.

Kieranth suddenly finds himself balking as he finds himself overstepping, arching himself away from her claws even as he goes past her. Errrrrrk! Air brakes. Looping his body about on a dime and avoiding the bulking Dhonzayth, given that he is a small blue(Thankfully), he catches himself around and follows after the green as she makes for another direction. His warbles of affection are laced with sorrow as he misjudges, but shakes it off quickly enough. Atleast he did not challange those talons, yes? Pushing himself to the limit once again, he attempts to find himself back with this pack of males, which he snaps teeth at once again in his anamosity(Or possibly embaressment?) at his competitors. If she hadn't been slowing, maybe the blue might've not been able to catch up, but seemingly fate favors him, and he tries again for the green. Though a little more tentive in his advancements, he is no less a darkening landscape, if not as much as those whom also persue. Flicking his tongue out into a soothing action, he makes way to get to that whip-like tail, extending himself in a more placating offer even as he attempts to snare the defiant one again, one he hopes is not as befuddled as his last. The predator does have a bit of pride in his hunt, after all, and that way that it is maintained.

The glowing green goddess has dimmed to a dull glimmer, her bright emerald hide nearly restored to it's usual dark hue. Though she's tiring and ready to give in, there's still a bit of fight left in her! Turning onto her back and snatching her tail away from his grasp, Ahriszajith manages to avoid the great bronze Dhonzayth's grasp — it seems as though size and stamina are not enough to impress this green. She offers a short croon, by way of apology to Dhonzayth — and also to Mayikooth and Dulacth, as she avoid's the brown duo. Despite his earlier attempt to cut short her chase, Ahriszajith finds herself enamored with the small, quick, and agile blue. She finds herself to be caught in his grasp, allowing the predator to snare his prey.

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