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Messages - Jarakrisafis

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1
B'ron couldn't take it anymore. He was going to jump across the room and throttle the child, and while he was at it, throwing away everything he'd ever worked for, he'd decided to make short work of S'bok too.

He imagined: S'bok mysteriously disappearing on one of his Hunts, Neisoth's screech as he blinks between echoing throughout the Weyr. No one keening for his death. And B'ron once again in Halirina and Kalestath's Weyr. Or more simply. S'bok and T'veck and Eimerra lying dead on the floor of this office, the rest of this team walking from the room without looking back.

Both seemed so satisfying, and yet, he couldn't do either.

But he didn't have to stand here and listen to the child prattle on about them arguing between themselves. He shouldn't even be allowed to speak, let alone have any kind of opinion to argue upon. Who the fuck did he think he was? When would he have gotten the mistaken impression that any of them would give up their decorum just to bother to have an argument with someone the likes of him.

Runnershit of a child.

You're going to have to instruct him.

Not if I have anything to say about it. There was a reason why he'd made sure X'kis knew everything there was to know about the duty, he hadn't been disgraced from the office like D'mir had. It hadn't been tradition last turn, but it wasn't something unheard of. Usually the previous Weyrsecond didn't do the turnover if there was some kind of... tension. But B'ron didn't really care about whether or not X'kis would have any problems with the new child. It'd likely be less than his.

Call Maelboroth and get X'kis to meet him at the office.

"X'kis will meet you for handover after this meeting." He said, and that was all. B'ron had to stand here for a little while longer, if only to make sure he was present for everything and anything he wanted to screw up. B'ron would remember it all.

2
Bella was excited. Finally things at the Hold were starting to pull themselves together in a way that meant people could start having some fun again. First the fighting pit had reopened, underground, in secret (which only added to the attraction in Bella's opinion), and now a gambling den... probably a brothel arrangement would follow. Not that Bella would be making use of those, in all likelihood, she could get her kicks when she needed it, but she would benefit somewhat from how much easier the men of the Hold were to deal with when they were getting sex on the side. Although teasing them could be fun. Maybe she could make the most of tonight in that way, before the brothels did get going again...

But first, she needed a drink. Bella flounced her way happily down the dark tunnels, deeper and deeper, twisting and turning down the path that she'd been told to take, Arrobesk following sullenly behind her growling at anyone they met. It wasn't unusual for Bella to have her wher following her, she appreciated having the big angry looking where as her body guard in situations like this when she didn't know how they would go. Arrobesk was muzzled for the time being. She could be trusted when Bella was there keeping tabs on her, but Bella wanted to have a free and easy night of fun without worrying about Arrobesk eating the people she'd be having fun with.

Plus, she didn't think that Thranne would appreciate her wher eating his paying customers. She didn't know him personally, but that was pretty much a given.

Entering the hall she gave Arrobesk the firm instruction to stay at the edge. The gold would loom over everyone else, But Bella herself was shorter than most and likely wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her over the heads of all the men gathered within, at least not well. The gold was usually well behaved enough if she thought Bella was watching her though.

Hearing a call of "Strongest thing ya got," from one of the other patrons, Bella slipped in between the Ryneppa and Kyrrin and slammed a mark loudly onto the bar.

"I'll match that!" she exclaimed with cheery challenge, eyeing up the women on either side of her. Bot had the look of wherfighters to them, she liked that. "You guys playing tonight?"

She was gonna have fun, scorch it.


Spoiler for Hidden:
Tags for @Jarakrisafis and @Inki! Bella's dragging your ladies into conversation. Feel free to shrug her off, she'll only bitch about them behind her back ;)

3
Ryneppa was glad to have another reason to spend her marks. Where usually it would be put on wherfights, or simply used as a paperweight, now they felt like they were weighing down her pocket and begging to be spent. The evergrowing lust of a gambler, to get more marks in order for her to spend more marks.

It felt so... typical. Just like the dingy holes she'd spent most of her adult life. Her siblings would undoubtedly feel at home here as well. Speaking of her siblings, she knew Oppesine was here, spotting her more voluptuous sister over by the bar, Kindolin would probably be making an appearance if she knew her sister at all. And if the Last Gambit looked like it would be going anywhere, Dolynsine would likely also make an appearance. Their family had done quite well towards the end of the pass, all of them finding their own little niche, and it was nice to see that the Mine Hall was fleshing out again. With wher fighting and gambling dens, the Mine Hall was certainly on it's way to becoming usable for them again.

"Strongest thing ya got." Ryn said loudly when she reached the bar, not bothering to wait to see if there was any sort of line... or polite way of requesting her drink. She'd always just yelled at them back at Fort.

She wouldn't be able to get too smashed tonight unfortunately. Ryn did want to win some of the games that came her way, but she enjoyed a state of perpetual buzz.

4
Universal Events / Re: [ 32.05.2591 ] Last Gambit
« on: August 17, 2018, 08:58:53 PM »
Daresik at Everalsie

I'll be good.

5
Word traveled fast through select channels and Oppesine was quite excited that morning when she’d taken the hop down to the Mine Hall. While she largely preferred to stay at the Weyr, since it felt safer, she would always be drawn to the fun and excitement that the Hall offered.

People knew how to get ahold of her, of course. Especially for such things like this. If it was worth it, Oppesine was also the person to get select women working in such a place. She’d kept tabs on her ladies and quite a few found the easy sexuality of the weyr, while liberating, also droll. It could get quite boring, she could admit, and for the whores of Fort Hold who liked the attention and taboo of what they’d done, the Last Gambit just might be the sort of prowling ground they needed again.

Oppesine would see if it was worth investing in, herself. She sauntered in wearing one of her tighter dresses and found a large sense of nostalgia hitting her. It was so much like Fort. Tucked away, the bar dimly lit, with tables of games scattered around, and gang members lingering around to both enforce the rules and have some fun.

She, however, was drawn to the bar. Alcohol and Oppesine were old, fine friends and she would be reacquainting herself quite heavily. She usually did when it was available. With marks aplenty left over from Fort, she’d make sure she’d have a nice night. Even if it meant soaking herself in drink.

6
A’yara smiled into the kiss when she’d cut him off. If it were important, she knew he’d find a way to say it. Otherwise... Well. Words weren’t overly important at the moment, now were they?

She liked the feel of his hands on her and didn’t shy away when he might otherwise touch the bad threadscore across her back. Though the old injury might bother her, it rarely did after a flight. In fact, her back generally felt quite good after a flight. Like all the energy spent during one seemed to release the tension she normally carried in her muscles there. Threadscarring was nothing any rider should be ashamed of anyway.

Neither were nightmares, but that was her own private horror to bear.

Her lips left his to trail biting kisses along his jaw then neck. Nothing that would be overly painful. A’yara didn’t want to chase him from her bedfurs and while she might be an assertive lady, she didn’t really want to hurt anyone. Rather, she rocked on him to enjoy the feel of her skin against his. It didn’t matter that the island was a warm place, she liked the press of another’s body against her own. Heat be damned.

7
It’d taken some bribing of a select group of Peacekeepers and Miners, and several months of work, but it’d all been worth it. To those in the know at the Mine Hall, there were certain activities picking up in popularity. Wher fights, some hidden cavern drinking spots, and even a renewed interest in gambling. Only the most enterprising of individuals were going to be able to capitalize on their newfound freedom now that they were no longer at the Weyr – and hadn’t been for some time.

Progress might moving along outside, in the jungle, and tunnels being expanded ever in the mountain, but the people needed some fun. A release.

Thranne and his group of close friends had orchestrated the construction of the Last Gambit. A cumulation of effort on their part. Bringing the gang back together for a cause they’d all thought worthy. Getting the Miners to carve out a cavern big enough for the gambling hall deep in the mountain, dumping some marks into peacekeepers pockets to keep them from looking into the work or the tunnels that were being expanded for the place.

It might not be as elaborate as anything back at Fort, but the Last Gambit was something for the gang to be proud of. Stone slab tables decorated the interior for dice and card games to be bet on, with an actual bar running across the far end, the opposite of the entrance. With marks having a real value now, with wher fights taking place in the darker corners of the Mine Hall, the gang wanted to invest in a place to spend those marks – and make some for themselves.

Eventually, they’d have some girls to work here too. Holders needed a place to relieve the pressures of their day without their significant other bothering them too. That’d been one of the appeal of the brothels back at Fort Hold, after all.

Now complete, this would be the first night the Last Gambit was officially open. Thranne and his gang had let the news out, through word of mouth to trusted friends and they expected the turn out to be great.

Spoiler for OOC:
Woo! Gambling Den! Now the Mine Hall has their very own. Thranne is going to be an adoptable NPC and anyone is free to make a member of his gang, either MNPC or PC. 8D As always, we have an OOC thread for check in and all the additional info!

8
Past and Possibilities / Turning Point [18.5.2578 6.30PM] SOLO
« on: August 16, 2018, 04:00:14 PM »
Spoiler for Hidden:
Here we go, my first ever solo. Reading back through this character's history, I felt that I had glossed over this part of his history in an effort to get his character sheet finished. I wanted to go back over it and work out what actually happened, for my own benefit, for the purpose of possibly referring back to it in his IC future posts and for me to get a better feel for him as he was, in comparison to who he is now. Looking back on it again, it doesn't feel as good as when I wrote it, I tweaked a few things around, but overall I was very happy with how it felt at the time of writing it so I feel it deserves to be posted.

Disclaimer: I have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to same-sex encounters such as this, so while I hope I handled it well and did him justice with it, if it stinks of something bad then I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional, and please point it out to me! I'm always learning <3

Also my first ever single post of over 2000 words, wow O.o 2176 to be exact

The fading motes of sunlight that streamed in through the Hold’s apertures alighted on the old wooden door, illuminating the hand that reached out to the handle, grasping it, pushing it inwards. Inside wasn’t much, just a few nooks and crannies in one of Fort’s many and labyrinthine tunnels, separated from the rest of the world by a few pieces of wood. It wasn’t grand, but to Thoridan it was home. Home to himself, home to his child, his wher, his wife. He was lucky, to have so much to call theirs.

Holding the door open, through it first passed Ridansk, the brown on his usual guard until he’d peered around the small space and assured himself that there was nobody there that shouldn’t be. Things were still, quiet inside the space, the table that dominated the centre set and ready for a dinner that sat bubbling over the embers that sparkled in the far corner. Arinada and Aridan were nowhere to be seen, but that in itself wasn’t unusual. As a Crafter in her own right, Arinada was often busy outside of the usual household duties that wives were expected to perform, but Thoridan didn’t mind. He’d known that would be the case when he agreed to marry an apprentice fisher crafter, and the woman did a remarkable job of being homemaker, mother and student all in one. Evidently, whatever had taken her out from the house wasn’t intended to take that long.

Still holding the door open, Thoridan waited until his partner and the man’s own wher had also entered. Ellevan passed with a nod, accompanied by a polite “why thank you” that would not have sounded exaggerated had it not been accompanied by a twinkle in the greenhandler’s eye. Thoridan almost rolled his eyes, letting the door close behind him. He made for the kitchen area, reaching out for the chest in which his wife kept the bowls and other various domestic equipment, dodging around the green who was pacing up and down the small space instead of settling down by the fire as Ridansk had.

“No you don’t” came Ellevan’s gentle admonition, laying a hand on Thoridan’s arm. “Let’s get you patched up properly first. Armour off, take a seat,” he instructed, pulling out a chair and giving Thori a gentle but firm push down toward it. “I’ll take it from here.”

Thoridan shrugged out of his leather chest plates and sank back into a chair with undisguised relief. “You sound like my wife,” he said, nonetheless, the comment aimed at Ellevan’s back as his friend bent down into the chest to retrieve the big wooden bowl that always seemed to live at the bottom despite the all too regular use it saw. It was never used for cooking.

“You and I both know she’d approve of that,” Ellevan replied with a grunt, standing with the bowl in hand. “With her not being here to see to you herself, I should think she’d expect it of me.”

“I don’t need two mother hens in my life,” Thoridan muttered, shifting his position to a more comfortable one as Vane alighted on his shoulder, the chair creaking in protest. He reached up to scratch the blue’s eye ridge with his good arm as the flitter nuzzled his chin, aware that using the other unless directed to do so for the moment would earn him a swift swatting from Ellevan. Not that he was afraid of that, he’d certainly faced stronger foes as the wound itself gave testament to, but more that he didn’t wish to earn anymore of his friend’s teasing ire.

“Yes, you do,” Ellevan insisted, filling the bowl with water from the barrel on the counter top. “Stop jumping into the fray to defend people capable of looking after themselves and that may be the case, but until then, you need all the eyes on you that you can get. Where’s Ari keep her bandages and numbweed?”

“Well you will go charging in there with a green, of course I had to come save your arse,” Thoridan responded with a huff. ‘I’ being he and Ridansk, the brown bulling his way in to the rescue when Ellevask had tracked their target to it’s den only to find a bronze wher in wait. A young bronze, still not yet at full size and inexperienced, but still far larger that the stumpy little green tracker. The bronze’s handler had proved to be a little more trouble, especially when their target had finally turned to fight with him after evading them for the better part of a half-candlemark. “In the box on the bottom left shelf,” he added gruffly after a few seconds of expectant silence.

“You say that as if I’ve never saved yours,” Ellevan sighed, placing the bowl down on the table and perching against it. Vane trilled, filling his head with images of the last occasion that had indeed happened. “Arm,” Ellevan said, in a tone that brooked no argument, gesturing with his free hand, the other dipping a cloth into the water bowl. Thoridan obliged, dislodging Vane and wincing as the other man undid the knot that held the temporary tourniquet in place, meeting Ellevan’s amused gaze as he did so.

Pursing his lips in a frown, he looked away, turning his attention instead to the pacing Ellevask. The green shouldn’t be so unsettled in this place, one she was familiar with as a place of safety, the territory of her partner brown Ridansk whom she knew to trust. Such behaviour wasn’t normal for the usually impassive wher.

His eyes tracked her across the room as Ellevan proceeded to clean his wound, a long slash almost from shoulder to elbow. More than a scratch, but thankfully not so deep as to incapacitate the arm too much. Still, Ellevan had a point; it needed seeing to to avoid the possibility of infection, something the temporary field bandage wasn’t really ideal for. At the least, it needed cleaning, and despite his protests Thoridan was happy enough to have someone else doing it for him. Ellevan’s touch was gentle but strong, assuring, the numbweed cooling, Thoridan finding himself relaxing back into the chair, quietly relieved to be able to return home and give himself over to the care of another after a long day of being the one making the appearance of being in control. Nobody was ever really in control at Fort any more. Such was the way of the chaos and anarchy that lurked everywhere, oppressing and omnipresent.

“She’s due to run soon, isn’t she,” he said into the quiet that followed, not so much a question as a statement.

Ellevan paused in his process of wrapping the bandage around Thoridan’s arm, eyes flicking up to the brownhandler’s for the briefest of moments before he continued his work. Thoridan didn’t miss the movement, though he was still looking at Ellevask. “Yes, she is. In two, maybe three day’s time.” He went quiet for another second or two, before continuing as if he’d never left off. “Will Ridansk be chasing?”

Thoridan met his eye this time, before looking down at Ridansk. The brown lay relaxed beside the glowing embers of the fire, enjoying the heat that radiated from them, Thoridan could feel his contentment through their bond, but also a sense of expectation. The brown’s gaze followed Ellevask around the room much as his handler’s did, and had been since he’d lay down in the first place. There was no sense of urgency in the brown, however; he knew Ellevask wasn’t that close yet, much as Ellevan did.

“Probably.” He’d chased every other time Ellevask had run, after all. It was no surprise, as the two worked closely together quite frequently, that Ridansk had quite frequently won Ellevask’s runs. The green did seem to have a tendency toward being choosy.

“Good. She likes him… as I’m sure you know,” Ellevan continued, the words coming out muffled around the pin that he was holding in his lips as he tied off the end of the bandage around Thoridan’s elbow. The green looked up at her handler then, as if he’d just spoken to her, before huffing and settling down beside Ridansk in front of the fire, eyes flickering orange with irritation. The brown tentatively reached out a possessive wing over her, settling it over her back when she did not offer any resistance.

“There we go, you’re done,” Ellevan said then, leaning back to admire his handiwork critically. He was no healer, but the ability to bandage a wound effectively was a valuable one in their line of work, and one they were taught during training so as to rely less on the healers that usually resided up at the Weyr anyway, frustratingly out of reach. “Now, don’t stab yourself with the pin,” he added, standing.

“I’m sure you’d laugh if I did,” Thoridan chuckled, rising with him and gripping his friend’s arm in wordless thanks. He looked up, meeting Ellevan’s eye to express his gratitude there too, but the expression he found on Ellevan’s face was not what he had been expecting. The smile faded, to be replaced by mild confusion. “What?” he found himself muttering quietly. The way they had had risen, the two of them were stood close enough together that anything uttered any louder would have been tantamount to shouting; close enough that it would likely be considered improper in public.

Ellevan didn’t reply. The silence hung between them, pregnant with… what? Confusion certainly on Thoridan’t part, he knew not what on Ellevan’s, searching the other man’s eyes to try and decipher what meaning lay there and coming up short. It lasted only a moment, before Ellevan leaned closer still, still with that unreadable look in his eye. Thoridan drew back slightly, not knowing what to make of this, but he trusted Ellevan completely…

When the other man’s lips met his, everything seemed to slide into place. The closeness, the sidelong looks at the mention of Ellevask’s run, the now all too obvious tenderness with which Ellevan had patched him up. The hand caressing his cheek and his own at Ellevan’s waist… he didn’t even know when those had gotten there, it had found its way there of its own accord as if that was simply where it belonged. Neither did he know for how long it lasted before the two of them at last pulled apart again. This was wrong, a man shouldn’t kiss another man. And yet…

“What was-“ he began after a few shaky breaths, opening his eyes again and looking up, Ellevan didn’t cut him off with what he said so much as with the searching look he met. Eyes that had only a moment ago been unreadable now spoke volumes, of hope, of doubt, of a sudden need for reassurance.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Neither a question nor a challenge, rather a… a plea for validation. ‘Tell me I’m right,’ was what his eyes said. How could he answer that? Thoridan’s gaze slipped down, unfocussed, trying to gather the thoughts that had been scattered to the winds.

“Can I do it again?” A more direct question, when the first had not elicited an answer, bringing Thoridan’s attention back to him and to the present.

The barest of nods was all he could manage in answer.

This time it felt more deliberate, less haphazard, but no less… right. It felt… it felt right. More right than anything he’d had with Arinada, with any other woman he’d kissed before. Never had that electric thrill of connection been this strong.

Reluctantly, they both pulled apart, but not far, keeping the gentle embrace going, foreheads resting against one another. It was abundantly clear to Thori now that he didn’t want to pull away, as if by doing so he may lose whatever it was they had just shared in that moment and may never find it again. Just let it last that little bit longer, whatever it was…

Eventually, Ellevan stopped back, breaking contact with a sigh. Thoridan watched him go in silence, neither apparently having anything more to say that hadn’t already been said with word or deed, leaving Thoridan with what felt like a suddenly empty gap in his life that had never been there before.

He sank heavily back into the chair, staring at the space where before Ellevan had stood, not knowing what to make of it. To make of any of it. He felt like he’d just been given the answer to a question he didn’t even know he’d needed answering, and in doing so only raised a thousand more questions. He’d not resolved any of them when Arinada returned a short while later, forcefully snapping himself back to the present of his family. Though the evening’s event could not be easily put behind him, he had to try, no matter that her return had raised another concern: Had he just betrayed her?

9
Gold flights besides Kalestath’s were always a bothersome thing to Halirina. While she did opt to spend some time with S’bok, as part of some peace between the pair of them, she wanted to be dressed and clean to see who might be the winner. She actually hoped it’d be an older Rider. Y’vis, maybe.

When quite the opposite happened, Halirina had quietly contained her fury. She didn’t want her outburst to upset S’bok, who might think it a reflection of her thoughts on him. In a way, it certainly was. What was happening in the Weyr?! Halirina stood at the weyrbowl entrance to the hatching sands and just... stared up at the sky in outraged disbelief.

A dark part of her heart even wanted the Bronze to fight the Black in the Weyrbowl, but Kalestath’s sharp presence in her mind reminded her that if it escalated, they would intervene. Kalestath would never dare to take wing during another Queen’s flight, but she would snuff the fight out of the two males.

Thankfully, it wasn’t needed. Instead, Halirina stormed off to her office so she could prepare. Once in her office, she threw everything in there in a spectacular tantrum. They had come so far and survived so much and it felt like the planet was trying to destroy them at every turn. Fevers, lost rations, riots... Now inept leaders.

The only reason they’d survived the Pass had been through the strength and conviction of their Riders and duty to one another. What would they do if the Weyr tore itself apart?

In this, even Kalestath was quiet. She would always stand by her mate, but the Gold didn’t care what color they were. Neisoth was just as good as Leremith, because he had won her Flight. The Queen did understand the stress and frustration of her bonded though, and in that conflict, she could offer nothing but quiet, stalwart support. They’d survived the Pass, they would survive the Interval.

In the end, Halirina sat in her office, in the quiet, until Kalestath let her know the Flight was over and the leadership would be ready to meet.

//Let’s meet in S’bok’s office,// she said, glancing around at the mess she’d made. Something else to deal with later as she stood, feeling her age, and made the short walk there. Arriving first didn’t surprise her, of course, so she stood next to S’bok and waited for the others. The office door stood open, welcoming, despite the very opposite mood of Halirina. She at least schooled her expression to betray nothing.

Spoiler for OOC:
An apology in advanced to the poor aide that has to clean up that mess. >_>
@Jarakrisafis @Lyndi @SirAlahn @Inki @Wren @Aster I think I got everyone...

10
Rider Weyrs / Re: The State of the Weyr [ 07.04.2591 // 10am ] A'yara
« on: August 08, 2018, 08:08:32 PM »
The nice thing about a Gold’s flight lust was that it affected just about everyone in some way. If allowed, someone could be swept away in it and not have to think about the world for a little while.

That was the only good thing to come out of Imyth’s Flight, as far as A’yara was concerned. She remained against Y’tol’s side, forgoing any cover or clothes in the steadily warming morning. Y’tol was not a stranger to A’yara’s bare body, and nor she to his. With her head pillowed on his shoulder, she listened to what he had to say.

In a way, it was comforting that she wasn’t the only one that had severe misgivings about what had happened. The names of the Black and his rider didn’t really matter. Well, she supposed it did now. Two people who should’ve been, and remained, inconsequential were now suddenly in the upper ranks of Weyr Leadership.

It just didn’t feel right. They had never felt right.

She actually looked up at Y’tol when he started to sound like there might be a suggestion of something to do. A’yara actually felt a small splash of hope at that... but even Y’tol seemed at a loss. What was there to do? Let them take over? Because that seemed to be what was happening. Her fingers traced nonsensical patterns on his chest while she mused aloud, “It really is a shame that no dueling is allowed. That’d certainly fix a lot of our current problems, wouldn’t it?”

A’yara had no doubt there would be a long line of Jungle Wing who would happily fight either S’bok or the now new Weyrsecond. Chief among them being the leadership of her wing. Shards, at this rate, even A’yara felt like she needed to step up and fight the little brats. For the sake of... the Weyr, their future... Everything. Could they keep letting the mutations breed?

11
Rider Weyrs / The State of the Weyr [ 07.04.2591 // 10am ] A'yara
« on: August 08, 2018, 07:04:42 PM »
Somewhere in the last few hours, A’yara and Y’tol had made their way back through the Weyr tunnels to Y’tol’s Weyr. The journey had been somewhat disturbed by a few stops along the way to continue their fun, but eventually they’d made it back to the comfort of Y’tol’s bed. Although Bayorth’s simmering annoyance lasted even as the bronze drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Now that the distraction, albeit as pleasant as it had been, was over, Y’tol couldn’t help but feel his thoughts drifting in the direction of their new Weyrsecond. Did this have anything to do with Jungle Wing dropping out of Imyth’s flight last turn? Was Imyth allowing external wants to influence her flight? No surely not. Eimerra was… wilful, but she wasn’t stupid. And she knew that Golds couldn’t let anything affect the size of their clutch.

But it wasn’t as if Kalestath wasn’t still clutching like it was a Pass. If the Golds rates continued clutching like they were, then the Weyrleadership may be seriously considering starting up a new Weyr. Maybe by choosing Imyth was helping out in a different way? No, no, surely not. The blacks were just… fast, large and aggressive. That’s all. Suited to snatching Golds.

“So, we’ve got a new Weyrsecond. I’ve been wracking my brain for the names, and I’m pretty sure it was T’veck and Baleth.” The characteristic grey wings and the black mottled body, different from the almost star studded body of… Lesserath, although he couldn’t recall the name of that rider right now. And it definitely wasn’t the oddly blue tinged black belonging to M’lan. He really should figure out exactly all their names if they were going to be stealing catches from Bayorth.

“Another black… not even out of Weyrlinghood yet. Surely we should…” He paused when he realised he had no idea about what to do to solve it, he sighed instead. “At least we don’t have to worry about letting them in to Jungle or not.” He added jokingly.

@SanctifiedSavage

12
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: August 08, 2018, 05:36:55 PM »
It wasn’t wholly uncommon for a handful of ladies to wait near enough the Weyrwoman’s weyr for a flight. Especially if they knew someone that was participating. If they could be bothered to hold out and wait, that was.

For A’yara, it was an obnoxious wait, but both the bronzers she liked were Chasing. So many of the riders from Jungle were, so she stayed in the hall to wait for one of them. If she was going to enjoy flight lust with someone, she wanted it be with someone from her Wing. It wasn’t so much consoling the loser so much as that was ideally her preference. Gold Flights were important to A’yara. Who won became a leading member of the Weyr.

It should be important to everyone, really.

She could feel the tension in the air through Deltiath. Her green lady dare not take to the sky while there was a Queen commanding it. She remained on her ledge, enabling A’yara to know all the dragons drop out as they did. So many of her fellow wingmates remained! She half expected there to be a Jungle Wing winner.

Especially when Brynioth took out one of the black dragons! She was immensely pleased. So much so she missed just who and what caught Imyth. Deltiath let her know, though. One of the black dragons. A young one. She wasn’t great with names on the best of days, but the shock of it was just... How... How could this happen? It shouldn’t have happened...

A’yara stared at the wall across from her as the losers started to make their way out of Eimerra’s weyr. That caught her attention and well... what was she going to do about all that? This mess was for someone else to deal with. For now, she snagged Y’tol and dragged him off.

If there was only one good thing to come out of the Flight, at least they could enjoy the lust still permeating the air.

13
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: August 08, 2018, 05:15:47 PM »
"Holy Faranth..." Y'tol realised he said out loud as he watched the ubrupt ending of the flight through Bayorth's red-tinged vision. And he ran from the room blinding seeking out Bayorth in the sky to contain his anger.

While Y'tol himself was not a Jungle Rider who conformed overly much to the typical Jungle frame of mind, Bayorth had a solid hatred from the blacks who kept stealing their Queens. A brief battle of wills, although neither of them were sure what Bayorth's end goal might have been, and Bayorth spun from the air into a dive towards the ground.

'There you go clear your head... and mine.' Y'tol had always simply never made a decision regarding the blacks. It was easy to be blasé when everyone else in your wing took all the opinion for you. He never needed to state exactly what it thought because it was sort of just... assumed. Which suited him just fine, no one asked, he never said, he never had to decide.

But shit, another young blackrider in the Weyrleadership. For even if the black dragon may have deserved the win, someone not even out of Weyrlinghood surely didn't? He tried to imagine if he would have had it in him to lead 20 turns ago, shards, he didn't really want to do it now.

Jungle was not going to be happy, and for once, he wasn't happy either. Whether it was accented by Bayorth's anger and disappointment bleeding into him, and that he would calm down in the morning... Y'tol wasn't so sure.

As it was, he pushed all thoughts of that from his mind, instead, drawing Bayorth's mind to meld closer with his as a woman standing in the hallway grabbed his arm and lead him to a secluded spot somewhere in between his Weyr and Eimerra's.

14
Mine Hall / Re: A different brand of fun [ 28.1.2591 / 11PM ] Kyrrin
« on: August 08, 2018, 03:36:51 PM »
Meyelthra caught the frown, but chose not to comment. Feelings about the Weyr at the Hall could range anywhere from ambivalence to straight up hate. She didn’t really care, Meyelthra rarely did. What she did and where she lived was certainly her own business. More to the point, she couldn’t really fault most for wanting to get out of the Weyr. They’d spent turns cooped up with dragon riders and their strict orders.

It was nice to be able to breathe at the Hall and, now that there weren’t riders around every corner, scoff at them. Meyelthra grinned at Kyrrin when she said the company was better at the Hall. That was something they’d both agree on. Meyelthra might sleep better at the Weyr, in the bed there, but she was definitely more at home in the dark tunnels, listening to the echoes of the fight down the hall.

It was familiar. Not safe, but oddly comforting. Certainly more exciting.

Meyelthra lifted her cup to the sentiment of getting by. Fort was like that. Just getting by. Taking whatever enjoyment out of life one could fight out of it. “I’ve heard optimistic talk about bringing back a lot of things we’ve been missin’ at the Weyr. Fights. Gambling.” She paused for a drink, watching it as she considered a moment. “You think the Hall’s gonna let that play out?”

Fort was good to her, but she wouldn’t say it was a great place to live. It might have been familiar, and home, but she wasn’t sure it was necessarily a good idea to revert wholly to what it was like back then. Would the Weyr step in then? Meyelthra doubted it.

15
Universal Events / Re: [ 7.4.2591 ] Imyth's Flight
« on: August 08, 2018, 07:03:24 AM »
Congratulations of course! and yes, to the meet up as well! We should also see about some plotting/threading and things if you're interested *waggles eyebrows* @Jarakrisafis

16
Universal Events / Re: [ 7.4.2591 ] Imyth's Flight
« on: August 08, 2018, 01:39:47 AM »
We'll have to do an aftermath with the Leadership... welcoming him in. >:3

17
Universal Events / Re: [ 7.4.2591 ] Imyth's Flight
« on: August 07, 2018, 09:20:23 PM »
Just wanted to give a giffy congrats to T'veck and @Jarakrisafis for winning the flight. <3



EDIT Halirina, W'sar, and L'ale are at your disposal.  :happy:

18
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: August 07, 2018, 12:44:54 PM »
She could feel each beat of her wings, the ache that was all about her stamina failing as it grew harder to remain ahead of the pack. Eimerra was used to the sensations now, the awareness of being in another place as her dragon.

While also feeling her pwn human grip on the edge tightening to the point that her knuckles went white from her effort to remain grounded and not leap up as if able to join Imyth at this moment. One that would not manage to last much longer as she felt the dip of a wing, signaling that things were starting to fail, to falter that soon there would be a victor from among the remaining chasers who were now a mix of black and bronze.

Not that Eimerra could truly distinguish, it was all about Imyth as she used what remained of her strength and tumbled to the ground, challenging them to catch her now, to continue to chase her who among the remainder could manage to hold on. Not the oldest. They often held on long enough but Imyth was a young Queen and she had more energetic turns and surprises than an older who was more comfortable and settled into coaxing that same weyrmate into joining with her once more. Now, it seemed that another would claim the soft gold of this Queen. Bronze chasing still, but black, determined and unable to give up.

Eimerra hissed under her breath as one clear and followed her Queen, her body turning instinctively in the same moment as that male claimed his mate, wrapping his body around Imyth, his wings and claws moving to hold her tightly to him as his tail twined with hers and the black Baleth claimed the Gold as his own. Even while Eimerra sought the lips and caress of the man who rode him.

T'veck and his dragon, his black dragon Baleth were now the new mates of Jr Weyrwoman and her gold Imyth. What this could mean for the Weyr as a whole was anyone's guess?

@Jarakrisafis

19
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: August 07, 2018, 05:37:26 AM »
Corvath's frustration grew as Brynioth's trajectory changed, his irritation at being discovered before being able to teach him what he thought was a very important lesson working to further twist his mind away from Imyth's pull. He may not have chased any other queen's before, but he had been aware that by going after the other dragon, he forfeited his right to her, but vengeance, at this point, seemed far sweeter than any mate. Even if he could miraculously deal with Brynioth before Imyth managed to get captured, the chances of actually joining the chase once more and succeeding were negligible. A fact which didn't even begin to take into account the stinging of his injured wing and the ache that had been growing ever more persistent for longer than he would like to admit.

He had another priority now, and the snarl turned into a low, menacing growl as the other dragon bugled at him. In the air, he had the upper hand, he had been aiming for Brynioth's back, but now his dive would bring him right in the face of teeth and claws. It wasn't an unexpected reaction, and while he would have much preferred an easier opportunity, he hadn't though a Bronze would easily roll over to his superiority.

What he needed then, was to stop now, any thought of retaliating further. The Bronze had fowled his wing, and he refused to let that go unanswered. If it were the accident he suspected, it would be useful for him to know he needed to be wary of encroaching on his space, particularly during such an important event.

So while he should have come up with something else, the black simply tucked his wings against his body, letting the pain in his wing flare up as a not-so-subtle reminder of why he was wasting time with a bronze and not the gold, and dove straight down, flinging his body at Brynioth. There were only two real results for the black at that point. He would collide with the Bronze, and would care little about using his claws to tear into the other dragon while disengaging (if possible) or he'd end up slamming into the ground with all the grace of a wher jumping from a ledge.

Keep to your own airspace next time, dimglow. he spat as he made impact, caring little as to whether his claws managed to grab onto flesh or grass as he twisted away. He wanted to disengage as soon as he could, contorting himself so as to keep his own weapons - his teeth and claws pointed in Brynioth's direction - wanting to flare his wings and make himself as big, and menacing as he possibly could. Not an ounce of which would be beneficial in anything resembling an actual fight, should that happen, and which would look like little more than the posturing of a cocky firelizard trying to scare off potential rivals albeit in a gargantuan manner.

20
Mine Hall / Re: A Different Kind of Fight [18.05.2591 / 23:00] Wher Run
« on: August 03, 2018, 02:49:50 PM »
Kenna was always pleasantly surprised one someone outside of the crafter circle chose to make their run open. Holder mentality was strong at the Mine Hall, and even a lot of the crafters chose to keep within their own instead of shack up with a stranger. But Kenna like a little bit of interest to spice up her life. It didn't always turn out in her favour but it was certainly always interesting.

The open run had been posted and Kenna had been pretty bored this evening, she knew nothing of handler or wher, but Kensk had been fidgeting as the sun had set, knowing that the time which the forewarned green would run was running out. She didn't have anything better to do, so why not?

Kensk, his blinders already off, his work harness hanging back in their apprentice dorms, hurried down the tunnel to the run cavern, Kenna trailing behind. If it was a Gold, then Kenna may have had a little more time to waste, but green runs could be very very short depending on suitor and suitee.

With the tunnel opening up, she gave Kensk a mental nudge as he hesitated, waiting for her order to be released. The bronze strode towards the gathering crowd, pumping himself as much as possible, posturing as whers where wont to do.

Kenna's eyes went to what must be Kyrrin. An interesting sight to say the least, somewhat attractive to Kenna personally, given the fact that it was obvious that Kyrrin's line of work kept her well-muscled. She looked like she fit right in with the other women of her mine hall, although she wasn't a crafter. Older than herself, she must've missed the boat, a different lifestyle before Southern Winds Weyr perhaps.

Kyrrinsk roared through Kenna's assessment of her handler, and the miner girl realised the run had already begun, Kensk leaping to action a little bit behind the heels of the green, roaring his answer to her challenge.

21
Mine Hall / Re: A Different Kind of Fight [18.05.2591 / 23:00] Wher Run
« on: August 03, 2018, 11:16:09 AM »
Meyelthar knew that Aselm was buttering her up for the next wher fights that were ‘scheduled’. He wanted her to haul Meyesk into the ring again, and he was doing a grand job of encouraging her with all manner of drink. ‘On his tab’.

Whatever worked. Meyelthra was having a good time hanging out with familiar faces – though not necessarily friendly ones – and playing some games of dice that didn’t really matter. She just went down to the Mine Hall just for this sort of thing. Escape from the hum drum of the Weyr and the routine that it had created for her. It wasn’t all bad, but she needed something else now and then. Drink, some edgy fun, and she’d go back to the Weyr in the morning when Prairie Riders showed up.

Meyesk lay at her feet with Snap, her ever vigilant baby sitter, on his large, scarred shoulder. The bronze wher looked bored, but he was really just relaxing. He liked going wherever his handler went. Not because they shared a close, emotional bond but because he functioned the best under simple orders. X’hos, though they’d been around one another a lot, was still a stranger to the simple wher.

Neither did he care about the other wher that walked around the ‘bar’. Though it was really just a claustrophobic side cavern, he was coiled around Meyelthra’s chair – as out of the way as a big bronze could be – and ignored any of the other territorial wher that were walked through.

Meyelthra ignored their equally annoying handlers when she was challenged to a handful of scuffles. She was playing a damn game! Aselm, not for the first time, tried to rankle her. He was trying to get her to show off the big bronze. Apparently there were some bidders he wanted to impress, or maybe some old gang members. Meyelthra was, frankly, too drunk to remember.

Or care.

“I’m not getting in a fight tonight,” she said, if not for the hundredth time. Her tone was a bit waspish, letting her old friend know this was the last she’d be saying it.

So, he tried something different. Maybe she’d participate in a Run? Let others see how great her monster of a wher was that way?

Meyelthra was offered another drink and, as that disappeared, she thought, fuck it, why not? She stood, to the delight of Aselm, and started making her way toward the Run cavern. Meyesk provided some support as she made her way until they arrived, when she shifted her weight to lean against Aselm. At least he brought his brown wher too...

Meyesk followed orders rather well and when he was told to participate in a Run, he trotted away from Meyelthra. He was very unconcerned about her safety – that was Snap’s job – and inhaled the scent of the female Green he’d be chasing after. Thankfully, she didn’t make him wait long before she roared and dashed off into the cavern. Meyesk launched himself after her, a mass of muscle tailing a much smaller Green.

22
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: August 03, 2018, 06:25:40 AM »
5am was a bit presumptive, really, even for the earliest of the Weyr's risers. J'hal would usually have counted himself among them, but even he slumbered, albeit fitfully, through Imyth's gliding down into the bowl. He'd been as on edge as his dragon for the last couple of days, however, which didn't exactly make for the best night's sleep ever. Imyth was obviously due to rise and an impending gold flight put everyone on edge. J'hal wasn't worried, though. Lesserath hadn't even shown much interest in chasing greens yet, more than idly watching them. Nor had he even made comment about Imyth the past few days. This flight wouldn't be a bother, gold or not.

How wrong was he.

The pull of a gold flight being ever the stronger than a green, Lesserath was pulled to wakefulness as her roar of lust shook the Weyr. Bronzes, browns and blues began to drop from Weyr ledges, as Imyth rose into the air to circle tantalisingly above their heads. It wasn't until his brother flew up from nearby that Lesserath even knew he was going to go with them.

The roar woke J'hal rather rudely, the black weyrling sitting bold upright in his bed and blinking fuzzy eyes in the darkness. Dark, but no darker than the black shape that he saw rise wordlessly and slip out of his weyr. "Lesserath?" Where are you going? he thought to the black, swinging his legs down to the ground and beginning to walk toward where the black had been only moments ago. Receiving no reply beyond a grumbled I fly, he reached out again to the black, hoping to peer in on what Lesserath was seeing and finding what he was looking for all too easily. At the sight of Imyth shining in the pre-dawn light and male dragons of all colours rising to join her, it all clicked. "Aaahhh shit," he muttered, sagging against the wall. You're shaffing kidding me, right? You're just looking for a nice view, that's all, he tried telling himself before Lesserath had even answered, in denial of the fact that he could already feel the tug of his black's flight lust strongly. Wayyyy too strongly.

She calls, I must answer, Lesserath replied even as he barked his own answer to Imyth's roar of challenge. She was still so close, but the air beneath her was already filling up with dragons powering upward, many bigger than Lesserath but many smaller too, a number of greens and browns among them. Lesserath paid them no mind. New to the game, he was flush with confidence, seeing the others around him as mere moths around a flame. Not a thought was put toward how he was going to win, no tactics, no holding back his strength, nothing but knowing that he would follow her to the ends of the earth this day and pluck her out of the sky.

J'hal, meanwhile, was wondering what to do. He'd been told the procedures of a flight, but that was all well and good when that knowledge didn't fly right out of his mind with his thread-seared dragon and take half of his thinking faculty with it. Or so that was how it felt as he stood, head swimming, in the centre of his weyr, looking dumbly at the bed as if it would provide any inspiration.

Follow her.

It was as if the instruction had come from nowhere, the same instinctual desire that had pushed Lesserath from his weyr now pulling the rider to the Weyrwoman's weyr in turn. He seized upon that thought, but not without first using what few brain cells Lesserath had left him with to grab a pair of long pants and stumble into them as he left, grabbing his leather riding jacket as he passed it's hook. Curse his black for leaving him behind, to stumble aimlessly in the dim light towards where he thought must be Eimerra's weyr. Thankfully, Eimerra's weyr was, like all queen weyrs, accessible from the ground. Somewhat later than most, J'hal slipped quietly into the back of the crowd, mindlessly gravitating toward the familiar form of T'veck as he finally let go of himself and joined Lesserath as he surged up toward Imyth.


Spoiler for Hidden:
There we go guys, only a month late. I couldn't miss this...

23
Rider Weyrs / Re: An evening in [10.02.2591 7PM] Jossekayne
« on: July 30, 2018, 06:49:43 PM »
J’ken’s stern look just made her laugh. There had been a time, when she was very young, when it might have cowed her. But they had both come a long way since then. And now, his attempt to salvage his pride just had Jossekayne grinning all the more toothily. “Are you so old now that you’re falling asleep wherever you sit? Should I be worried about you out on your assignments?”

Highly amused, Lyrisiveth shifted next to Tadriath to make room for her rider between her paws. Settling against the Green’s leg, Jo contemplated how else to tease her brother. “If I do ever find someone you might like, I’ll have to tell them you like your naps. We can’t have them thinking you’re some young thing that doesn’t need a pillow to sit on.”

There might be only five turns between them, but the concept of it seemed so much bigger. J’ken was her older brother, their ages different enough that she had still been a child as he came into adulthood. Teasing aside, it was odd to think that, now they were both adults, the gap meant far less than it used to.

24
Rider Weyrs / Re: Bright as a Mirror [ 7.4.2591; 5:16 AM ] || Event
« on: July 23, 2018, 11:02:37 PM »
Golds were an entirely different prize than the greens of the Weyr. Whilst greens might be won with flowery words (truthful or no), or impressed by twists and turns of a shining male suitor, a Gold must be caught without a doubt. A Gold had a duty to the Weyr, to provide the best clutch possible, if any of them allowed personal choice to guide their catching she wouldn't be worthy to possess.

And so, Bayorth enjoyed not having to fake it for his potential prize. Instead, he must preserve his energy, keeping himself well contained even as she taunted them by flying between and through them all. It annoyed him that she didn't simply take to the sky and fly high and far, and instead persisted in teasing them all. But Bayorth had always been easily annoyed.

He noted a black shape, and Bayorth growled in annoyance. Y'tol's pushing back into his mind at the swelling of rage the rider felt through their bond just containing Bayorth's needed to snap at the young black dragon. Everyone had dealt with Neisoth before and learnt not to make that mistake, but these knew ones were young and untested. Perhaps it was time they were tested...

Well shit. That's certainly going to make a mark. Y'tol thought as he stared around the collective group of chasers that packed into Eimerra's weyr. Imyth had been caught by a brown last turn, what's to say she wouldn't be the next Gold to fall to a young black dragon?

25
Mine Hall / A different brand of fun [ 28.1.2591 / 11PM ] Kyrrin
« on: June 02, 2018, 12:11:07 AM »
Things were moving cautiously forward. After the first successful fight, of course there was going to be another. Deep in the dark tunnels of the Mine Hall, those of a less than moral character gathered up. Set the ring. Drug out their wher and set the stage for more fights. Life was routine and boring. This? This was fun. This was good.

This was the sort of thing Meyelthra missed most about Fort. She’d not told X’hos about it because... well, for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, it wasn’t any of his damn business what she did when he dropped her off. Just because they lived together now and he looked at her like that, didn’t mean shit to Meyelthra. He was still just... comfortable. Convenient. She didn’t owe him and she certainly wasn’t beholden to tell him a damn thing if she didn’t want to.

And she didn’t. The last thing Meyelthra wanted to find out was that his Rider bred sense of duty would over power him and he’d feel the need to tell someone. Anyone. For whatever reason.

This as precious. This was important. Secondly, it was hers. It might’ve been childish, but the sweat and blood scented tunnels were all hers and she didn’t want to share any of that with him.

Granted, now she’d have to figure out a damned good lie as to why, and how, Meyesk had ended up with a great big gash on his shoulder and some tearing along one of his wings. Bruising could be hand waved or even overlooked.

These required stitches. Probably an explanation. A lie. It wasn’t that Meyelthra hated lying. She didn’t really care and didn’t feel bad about lying to X’hos so much as she hated having to remember whatever the lie might be. Then he’d get all concerned, wonder if she should be going to the Hall... Meyel sighed heavily as she looked at Meyesk. The big bronze was laying on his belly, eyes an acrid orange while he watched Meyelthra. The healer was working on the stitches. A no-nonsense sort of man with clean hands and not much else. He wasn’t happy to be missing other fights to deal with the injured wher, but it was his job.

What he was being compensated, in whatever way, for the night. Switched shifts, a blow job later on by his favorite girl. Whatever they were trading around now-a-days. Meyelthra wasn’t in charge of that sort of thing. One of her hands remained on the wher to keep him down. Not that he was the sort to do anything but lay once he’d been told otherwise. She glanced around the glow lit side cave to see who else had been injured that night. More out of idle curiosity than anything else. Taking inventory of who else might be out of the fights for the night and if she recognized anyone.

@Jarakrisafis

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