World of Pern
Latest Updates

2023/08/04 Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
2023/01/07 Welcome to the New Year! We are now ELEVEN years old! Thank you, all of you, for your love and writing! I am looking forward to spending another year with youall! In addition, a new Default colour scheme is in progress and will hopefully be available soon! All my love! ThistleProse
2022/07/29 Gold Malvayth and Bronze Xyxyth clutch is Hatching! Come and join the shenannigans 743.08.03 | NIGHT STALKERS HATCHING and bring the popcorn!
2022/05/11 Gold Malvayth has Flown, caught by Bronze Xyxyth of A'tay. Their Hatching will be PC, and take place in Telgar in August around the 20-22nd! Update your Candidate Applications and prepare for some fun!
2022/04/21 New default layout! I hope you enjoy it! If you find any bugs, please report them in the discord #bug-squishing channel!
05/JUL It’s Hatching time!! Come take part in the shenanigans here
30/JUN Gold Thallyath of Ista Weyr has laid a clutch! More information here
27/JUN A bluerider, and then a greenrider, are found dead. More information here
25/JUN The Touching is up! Take part here
30/MAY After the Touching, many Candidates found themselves preyed upon in the form of their food. More information here
18/MAY Another goldrider - Ameris of Benden - is attacked. More information here
05/MAY Multiple individuals are attacked whilest out of the Weyr! More information here
04/MAY Take a chance OOC and guess who you think the murderer is! You can win prizes! More information here
03/MAY Goldrider Cazan and her twin brother Cazelarias are attacked. More information here
24/APR Goldrider Ashara of Fort is murdered by two brownriders. More information here
12/APR Searchrider B’jin was attacked at Telgar Weyr, surffering a slash to his throat. While in Benden, bluerider B’dor is found dead in his weyr. More info here
05/APRMore attacks occurred today. More information here
03/APRMultiple individuals found their death this day; more information here and here
28/MAR Tragedy has struck again! Across all the Weyrs, multiple people - primarily dragonriders - have fallen ill after eating muffins. There have been multiple deaths, and others are in criticle condition. More information here
24/MAR Weyrwoman Ameris and her son, Rislan, poisoned! More information here
18/MAR Benden’s Weyrleader M’ris and his children have been poisoned! Resulting in sickness and death. More information here
18/MAROn 18.03.742 Bronzerider A’dris of Vyaniorth was found dead in his personal bathing pool. He appears to have drowned after drinking an excess of alcohol. Afterwards it was realized that Machiya of Gold Cameth from Telgar Weyr had disappeared. Having never arrived at her destination, it is suspected she had an accident between.
11/MAR Gold Racoth of Donmaline went between taking Bronze Beruth of T’rel with her shortly after she had been caught, due to T’rel strangling Donmaline. He did not survive. more info
25/FEB Congratulations and thank-you to Guest for taking on a moderator role! <3
14/FEB Stars Above PC Hatching Link
06/JAN :o new layout is a WiP. Please report bugs in Discord.
01/JAN Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!




Currently: Spring 03.745 al
Monthly Event
2024-February
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Welcome to the Month of Lovetm! This month's Monthly Event is all about Romance, whether it is asking someone out on a date, or getting sweaty between the sheets! Anything and everything counts, if it even looks sideways like it could be related to Valentine Day -- including lover's spats, or breaking up, Flights Wins (or Flight Losses!). Honestly, this month has a huge opportunity for interpertation, so go wild!



2023-December
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Ahh, the fresh snow, the crisp air, the naked trees... welcome to Winter! Or, just the Colder Months for those in the more Northern Weyrs, while Ista is just... not as hot. But it is time to enjoy the end of the Turn, so folks should get together, spend some time gossiping, and drinking Hot Chocolate (alcohol and marshmallows opional)... does Pern even have marshmallows????? (they do now!)



2023-November
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Feel like bitching? Wanna take part in a brawl? Or bet on someone? Take part in Brawls and Bitching this month! Boo-yeah!



2023-October
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Thistle flunked this month; You can still post until the end of November as a result <3
Experience, tell or hide from a Spooky Story!



2023-September
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The flu is running rampant, colds are clogging noses, and someone might have lost a limb?



2023-August
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Partake this month by going fishing... or anything that occurs while fishing, or dealing with fish!



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Between a Rock and a Hard... you know [Open - Green Flight]

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#1
Z'jan was getting sick of this. It was supposed to be a fucking adventure. It was supposed to be fun. It started when he'd overheard someone in the dining hall explaining how the Northern Mountains had dozens of springs and hidden caves just waiting to be explored. So, naturally, as soon as he finished eating Z'jan had harassed Ghalath into taking him out here. But she'd seemed exceedingly unhappy about the arrangement. More so than usual, at least.

"Ghalath, I swear to Faranth if you don't stop complaining..."

[ghalath] these rocks... I hate them.[/ghalath]

The dark green glowered and glowed from a nearby ledge, her eyes swirling in a mix of anger and anxiety. Z'jan set his jaw. She was being a punk. He had enough on his mind at the moment. Namely, not dieing. Muscles strained against the force, veins bulging in his arms, tendons tight as bow strings, Z'jan was free climbing. His thin leather boots, ideal for this kind of activity, molded into the rock face. He could nearly feel the jagged edges of the stone pressing into his toes.

"I'm not--" but his left foot broke the rock it was perched on, sending a tumble of little pebbles down below. It wasn't a sheer drop, but a 75 degree angle wasn't exactly something to play on, either. "--in the mood right now!" His last words came through gritted teeth as his arms and right leg snapped to attention, tightening, taking the extra, abruptly redistributed weight. He strained, left foot searching for something... anything...!

It touched on a outcropping. It was just enough. With a husky grunt and a red face, Z'jan pulled himself bodily onto the next ledge, spilling onto the moderately flat surface. His muscles relaxed. He flopped back against the cold rock; it felt like the softest bed he'd ever known. "If you don't like it, you can go home. Someone will find me eventually. Or I'll just plummet to my death. Either way." Z'jan was being a dick, again. But he hated whining: people, dragons... didn't matter! Buck up. Get over it. Shards! Ghalath wasn't the only who got to be in a bad mood sometimes.

Ghalath eyed him, peering down from her perch one ledge over and two up. Z'jan met her gaze. Held it. Were they staring off? Both were glaring. Ghalath's eyes were swirling colors Z'jan hadn't seen before. But he refused to be soothed by pretty colors. He wondered what colors his eyes would be swirling, if they could. Black, maybe. With bits of red angry-ness.

Ghalath snorted. Z'jan grit his teeth. This cliff wasn't big enough for the both of them... "Fine! Go then!"

And suddenly, with a resolve Z’jan had never felt from her before, Ghalath did just that: she took off, leaving Z'jan orphaned on his perch. Z'jan could only blink. Despite having just inadvertently commanded it, he was at a loss. His mouth opened… closed again. What had just happened? "Hey!--" he started…but something stopped him. An impact, a hard something colliding with his insides. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. It was like a punch: a dirty, low... aching, firey, intensely desirable, lust-filled punch. Right to the dick.

Z’jan’s breath caught in his throat. He shook his head to clear it. But the fog didn't clear. The fog wasn't fog. The fog was clouds. Ghalath saw clouds. Z'jan saw clouds. He saw what she saw, with only a little bit of truth in the periphery. Dangerous truth. Cliffs. Ledges. He snapped back against the mountainside, frightened of falling for the first time in years. "Shit? Shit! Holy shit..." the words came out in quick succession. His heart hammered in his chest. His heart? Or Ghalath's? As she pumped thick green ichor through her veins and drove her dark, mottled body upward, higher, higher...

Only when she was up, dappled by clouds, did she make her call. Her voice, so quiet and distant sounding in Z'jan's mind, now came out in a bold, brassy bellow. It was an angry call. And angry lusty call. Surely this couldn’t be his dragon... his dragon didn’t make noise. His dragon didn’t like to be touched. Z'jan swallowed, mouth dry.

His dragon was rising. His dragon. Rising. Now. Not tomorrow. Not next turn. Very right now.

Z'jan grit his teeth, back pressed against the mountain, digging his fingernails... no, his talons... into the pebbles and mountain silt that surrounded him. His eyes wanted to roll back into his head, to give over all real vision to Ghalath.

Fuck, fuck, fuck... that's all he wanted. That's all she wanted.

And they both wanted it very right now.

Hey guys! Ghalath’s maiden flight is still open, but will be moving forward. Feel free to join at any point, though I realize the location is less than ideal! PM me with any questions. Thanks for reading!

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#2
It was a beautiful day and O'wain wanted to be away from the Weyr. There had been a few things going on that was just getting on his nerves and O'wain needed to be away from all that. A few friends were arguing about whether they will ever be allowed to go home and tried to get O'wain's view of the whole thing but he had, as usual, refused to pick a side. Instead he just brushed it off as pointless worrying about. It didn't sit well with them and he ended up leaving on some excuse.

We aren't in a position to do anything. The nearly black brown dragon murmured, gliding out over the jungles towards the mountains. Bright sunlight picked out his dark brown flanks making the near black areas seem darker and richer.

It may not be our original home but Southern is beautiful and I do enjoy the temperature even if too muggy at times. O'wain took his dragon's unspoken suggestion and focused on the here and now. O'wain didn't want to be Weyrleader, or even Wingleader, let hard noses like S'kef and others squabble over leadership. O'wain just wanted to fly, to be a dragonrider and spread the love he had to give to all who wished it. It didn't matter if it was here in the South or up North, he would offer it all the same. Just the thought of it was making him quite aroused.

You are always aroused..err what is that? Nishkath turned his head and noticed the human scrambling over onto a ledge on the nearby cliff face.

O'wain looked in the direction his dragon indicated and frowned. "That is really...reckless," his words were lost to the wind as Nishkath dipped his wings and glided down towards the cliff.

He felt the vibration between his legs as Nishkath rumbled deep in his chest, a sound more vibration than noise. O'wain then saw the glowing green dragon and no green he's ever seen glowed like that for any other reason save one. She was about to raise. What fool brought his dragon so far from the Weyr when she was this close to rising?

It is Ghalath, the shy one. The brown dropped like a stone, causing his rider to grab frantically at the fighting straps. I will chase her, she will not fly alone.

Can you get close to that ledge?O'wain didn't really like the idea of being on that ledge but it should be wide enough for two. With Ghalath already in the air and sending out her challenge for any male to catch her, O'wain didn't think Nishkath would have the focus to get Z'jan off the ledge and land.

Nishkath gave no answer, but he did dive towards the ledge, swooping down upon the rider stranded there. Beating his wings to slow his forward momentum, Nishkath did his best not to knock the human off the ledge with his wings or the wind they generated.

O'wain released the fighting straps and dropped down onto the ledge. He barely had his feet on the flat surface, dropping down into a crouch to avoid being hit by NIshkath's wing, before the brown went Between He winced, worried such a trick will result in Nishkath getting another kick from a dragon who didn't appreciate his cheating.

I am not cheating, I just want to be closer since I wasted time dropping you off. he sent to his rider then was lost in the lust of the chase. Nishkath had come out of Between closer to Ghalath but still far enough away he still had to put effort into closing the gap.

I fly with you Ghalath. he sent, his mind voice full of lust as the mating urge set his blood aflame.

O'wain stumbled slightly as he felt the full impact of Nishkath lust. He saw the glowing green beauty reaching for the clouds and desired her between his forepaws. He was barely aware of dazed looking Z'jan on the ledge beside him. O'wain moved closer.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#3
Z'jan's world was a blur. Ghalath's world, on the other hand, was crystal clear.

And her world was quickly bleeding into his, taking it over. Z'jan was only partially aware of his human body. He felt his back still, pressed against the back wall of the mountain. Cool, hard stone. He pushed back harder, perversely enjoying the pain of the rocks jabbing into the meat of his shoulder, his spine, rib bones. His flesh was so hot he was certain it would burn through his clothes. If he stayed here long enough, maybe he'd spark a volcano.

He took a ragged breath, the mountain air sharp against this throat. But then... there was suddenly a different kind of air. A wind. No, a windstorm! It moved on it's own, blowing back his hair. He threw an arm over his eyes, to block the grit it churned up. It also blocked his view. When the air finally grew still once more (and his flesh grew even hotter than ever) Z'jan pulled down his arm.

And saw, of all people... O'wain?

Z'jan blinked slowly, staring at the man as though he was a book written in another language. He opened his mouth. After a moment's effort, words came out.

"Why are you here?" Z'jan heard himself speak, and was surprised by his own voice. He'd practically growled. He'd thrown the words at O'wain, as though they were weapons. But why is he here! His mind screamed back. Who said he could climb with us! Z'jan ground his teeth, eyes narrowing. His flesh must surely be on fire now. He was the volcano. This was his mountain.

"This is my ledge!" He shouted, lunging forward at O'wain, but stopping short. He'd left the security of the mountainside behind. He swayed slightly, body unsure if it was supposed to be standing or flying. "You didn't climb here! You didn't earn it!" He bit his tongue by accident, causing it to bleed. But he hardly noticed. "You have to EARN IT!"

Ghalath, short winged and square bodied, was already lightly winded by the time she reached the level of the clouds. But it was glorious! She was glorious! This was her sky. No one else could have it, not even that brown who followed her around now. The big brute, he's far too slow! He might be able to outfly her, but she'd out maneuver him! She'd never be caught!

[ghalath] Try![/ghalath] she screeched. Her hide was glowing in the sun, making her mottled pattern stand out more clearly than it ever had before. She did not croon or flirt or dance in the sky. Why did she have to show off to him? She didn't need him. He was nothing! She was everything! THIS WAS HER SKY!

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#4
The growl of the slim but athletic young man before him brought a grin to O'wain's lips. He had made love with this young man before and since, had rarely seen him. O'wain had not thought much about it, after all many of his partners didn't want to return to him. But he knew many did come back as he was a very skilled lover.

There weren't many times he faced off a potential mate who was so aggressive. O'wain shifted to a wider stance, crouching low. There was nowhere to run on this small ledge, a part of O'wain who wasn't Nishkath realized.

"I am here, I have earned it," O'wain stated huskily. "Nishkath will earn her, he is very good catching greens...such a pretty green too."

He was in no rush, there was no competition here on the ledge (in the sky). O'wain (Nishkath) moved with lazy certainty. With the cliff behind Z'jan and O'wain between him and the edge of the ledge, the greenrider only had the brown's arms to run into.

Nishkath admired the mottled pattern green before him, saw how she moved this way and that, the sun brilliant against her hide. He will have her. His wings were strong and he didn't tire as fast as the blues and greens and often out lasted browns. He didn't win all his flights but he prided himself in never dropping out of a fight due to tiredness. He had been out maneuvered by others and injured by a gold but a green he caught catch especially when the sky belonged to them.

I try, beautiful one, and soon I will win. First we fly for it is a brilliant and glorious feeling to fly with one so bright.

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Written By: ZZZ Deceased
#5
Ghalath wasn't immune to flattery. Not today. Not when she was so worthy of it. She cocked her head back at the brown. But still... he was a fool if he thought he could catch her by talking! Talk talk! Nothing every came of it! Why did no one else on Pern realize it! Everyone was always talking.

Stupid everyone.

She pulled her wings to her sides. Their short span allowed her to tuck them nearly flush against her sides. She went from flying to plummeting in an instant. Her diminutive form had little wind resistance. She would fall faster. He would tire, while she conserved her strength for the next climb. Ha! Stupid brown. All muscle. No mind. Just dark, gleaming muscle....

Z'jan looked O'wain up and down with slow, meticulous calculation. Yes. This man had caught him once before. But that was different... very different. This time, Z'jan wasn't going to give himself away. No. He'd give nothing. If this intruder wanted something, he'd have to take it. If he could.

"You haven't." Z'jan said quietly, but by no means softly. His voice had an edge that would have put a canine's tail between his legs. "You're not. You're there. You're haven't..." his last words trailed off, a muddle of meanings, as the waves of Ghalath's lust gripped his middle like a vice. He rode it out, a shudder rolling down his spine and eyes locked on O'wain but not really seeing him. He'd nearly forgotten about the ledge, the ridiculousness of his predicament. But what was one more challenge? He wasn't afraid! He wasn't afraid of anything! Ghalath's mind wrapped around his own, encouraging him.

They were one: both were high up in the sky. Both were surrounded by air. Both faced a single opponent. Opponent?

Yes.

In this, they were also of one mind.

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#6
Nishkath watched the green, her gleaming hide so beautiful, so desirous. The rut was heavy in him and this time he didn't want to lose, he couldn't lose. There was only him and the green, and his burning desire and her silent siren call filling his mind with want.

Then she folded her wings tight against her body and dropped. It wasn't a surprising move, many greens used it but one thing they always seem to forget, he was heavier he would fall just as fast. But he wouldn't fall as far. Folding his own wings he dove down as well but not to get down to her level, instead he kept above her, using his own dive to add speed, knowing when she pulled up he would already be above her and it was just a matter of ensuring she didn't reverse direction on him. That would cost him for he couldn't do the tight turns a green can manage.

His greatest advantage was his experience, he knew his capabilities and how his body responded in the air. He also knew many of the tricks greens use even in their first flights.

O'wain was uncomfortable, his arousal, fueled by his dragon's lust was making his trousers very uncomfortable. Not only that but he was hot. He didn't respond to Z'jan's denial of his having earned the right to be on the ledge. Instead he fumbled with the buckles of his flight jacket. Normally O'wain didn't bother wearing his flight gear but he had been flying with Nishkath to get his head cleared and often they flew high so Nishkath could glide on the upper thermals.

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#7
Z'jan watched O'wain absently for a moment. He couldn't figure out what the other rider was doing. Z'jan was too distracted. And he was so hot. He swallowed, the brisk mountain air feeling no more brisk now than the steam from a cup of klah. And then, abruptly, it registered on him. O'wain was undressing. He thought he'd won. Like it was that easy. Z'jan's blood boiled. It wasn't that fucking easy!

"Cheating!" he growled, almost incomprehensibly, and lunged at O'wain...

But, again, he stopped himself, this time only inches from the other man. Why did he stop! He wanted to blacken O'wain's eyes! Break his nose! Dig his fingers into his flesh and not let go...

Z'jan shook his head, trying to find some clarity. He couldn't get close. Didn't want to, even though he did. If he got close, then O'wain really had won. Z'jan exhaled feverishly. He was a man pulled in two directions, confused, inexperienced, and without a plan. He stood frozen, face contorted with rage, hands held half over his head as though to beat the over man over the head if he got the chance.

Up in the sky, Ghalath peered over her shoulder at the falling brown. He would not catch her. Heavier did not mean faster, she knew that much. The time she and Z'jan had spent plummeting to earth in various reckless activities had not left her ignorant. In the eyes of gravity, all things fell at the same rate. Only wind resistance mattered. And in that regard, she was queen.

Eyes like whirlpools, she tilted her head back and hissed at Nishkath... yes, he was the one from the lake... as he lurked above her. He wasn't even trying. Did he think it would be so easy!

But Ghalath was young and green, in more ways than one. Nishkath's presence above her was constant, but she failed to make the kinds of assumptions that another, more experienced green might. All she knew was that as long as the brown was her, then he still didn't have her.

She'd lost a lot of altitude, but the ache in her wings had subsided. Enough. She threw out her left wing, banking sharply to the right. She leveled only for a moment, before beating her wings furiously against the sky and reclaiming the altitude she'd just given up. Her muscles burned, but it was a good burn. She wanted the burn. And she wasn't done with the feeling yet.

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Z'jan's sudden charge caused O'wain to tense but he made no move to block the potential impact. The only thought in his mind besides the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach and the tightness in his groin was the words 'don't step back'. He was near the edge of the ledge and being knocked back more than a step could very well send him falling to his death.

But he felt no slap or any attack from the greenrider, instead the boy stopped, inches from physical contact. The heat from Z'jan was palatable however and O'wain stepped forward, ready to push the younger man back towards the cliff face.

Nishkath watched the green below him, saw her looking back at him. She was quite low now and too low for Nishkath's tastes. To dive again and try to catch her now would mean landing before they could truly soar together. No, she must rise, rise to make the mating flight exquisite. Silently he willed her to climb, the chase wasn't done quite yet.

Her sharp turn to the right was easily copied and Nishkath increased the beat of his near black wings to gain speed while he flew on the level. Then she was rising and he was closing the distance even as he rose in altitude. Soon they were both high, nearly as high as they were before she took the plunge. Banking sharply he slipped with the wind currents to close the distance and dropped down upon Ghalath, forelimbs reaching forward to snatch her from the air.

Let's fly as one, Nishkath cooed even as he made his move to catch her.

O'wain threw off his jacket and reached for Z'jan, his movements now mirroring his dragon's.

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#9
Ghalath beat her wings furiously. She must rise. Higher! She must go faster. Like a long shadow, the brown was looming over her. He'd closed the distance too quickly. Faster than she'd predicted. Though she hadn't predicted at all really. Maybe that was the problem.

She hissed at him as he closed the gap, but didn't turn her head. She couldn't waste the effort! Her wings burned, their fuel nearly spent. But she didn't want to be done. She wouldn't be done yet!--

But, something was tangling her. Grabbing her. Slowing her...

[ghalath]Nishkath![/ghalath] she screeched, accusingly. She barrel rolled in a last ditch attempt to work herself free, but this only stalled her momentum. She hung in the air, as a stone thrown upwards stalls at the peak of its rise.

Her captor was too large: the limbs were too big, the talons so much longer than her own. They caged her. But she would not be caged! She wouldn't let him trap her! Ghalath pulled away, hard. Talons ripped against her hide. She squealed, eyes swirling red, and snapped at the brown. But she missed. She was disoriented. Up was down and down was up. And Nishkath was everywhere at once. Her wings were not her own to control anymore. The point of no return had passed.

As Ghalath's progress was slowed by Nishkath, Z'jan felt his feet move backwards of their own accord. One step. Two. He pulled away from the reaching arms, but O'wain suddenly looked so large, so looming! And he blocked the only was off the mountain. Z'jan was trapped. With a soft thump he hit the back of the cliff. Here, the was space to move, but still no place to go. End of the line.

Ghalath... they... were caught... about to be.... Z'jan could feel it. But he didn't want it! Not yet! Still, the wave of flightlust began to bury him alive. He shouted at O'wain: not a word, but something guttural, primitive. But O'wain kept coming. Closer. Z'jan ground his teeth, sweat glistening on his skin. He burned. Ached. Hurt. Wanted.

Wanted to fuck. Wanted to fight.

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#10
Gently was Nishkath's intent, his talons firm but light on her moss green hide but she did something he didn't expect. She turned and that just completely foiled her wings against his body. For one moment her rising paused and both brown and green seemed suspected in the air then she pushed away from him.

Nishkath didn't quite know how she managed to push away, reflex and instinct caused him to tighten his grip, his wings stilling their slow beat so he would drop closer to her. He felt his claws dig into her hide, the sent of ichor, heard her squeal, saw her teeth snap close to his face which he just managed to move out of reach.

It was her last resistance, he dipped his head forward and entwined his hneck around hers even as he locked hindquarters with her own, his long tail wrapping around her, the forked tip acting like a vice to hang into her own tail 'fingers'. Locked together he spread his wings, slowing their descent and making their joining last as long as possible.

O'wain backed Z'jan into the cliff face, knowing he had him. Even as Nishkath successfully caught Ghalath, O'wain caught Z'jan. His lips sought Z'jan's even as his body burned, pressed against him. The glutteral roar issuing from Z'jan's lips drowned by O'wain's lips pressing against them, his own growl rumbling deep in his chest.

A sharp pain in his ribs caused O'wain to back off a bit but he didn't stay away. No, he will have his prize, the burning flightlust was too hot, too powerful not to allow it to run it's course. O'wain doubted he could stip it even if he wanted to.

Fade Out.....

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#11
Fade In.........


Z'jan was cold now.

Had he been asleep? He started to open his eyes, but the late afternoon light was striking directly onto his face. He caught a few glimpses of rock and stone before he closed them again, letting his pinpoint pupils rest. No. He didn't feel like he'd been asleep. But he'd been somewhere else. And rocks?

He remembered the ledge. He'd been climbing. Maybe he'd fallen? He felt for his own body. It ached, bad. He couldn't seem to move. Perhaps he had fallen? But why hadn't Ghalath caught him? She would never let him hit the ground. She'd was always just above him, reading to lunge if slipped. After all, a gash from her talons and a dislocated shoulder were better than a smashed skull or broken back. She was always there for him. But... where was she now?

He felt for his dragon's mind. To his surprise, she slept. And she slept as deep as the night she'd hatched. Sleeping? While he was lying here, broken, at the base of some cliff? That didn't make any sense. Again, Z'jan tried to move, to sit or stand. But it was as though a weight were pressing down on his chest. He flexed his hands, found they were gripping something. Something was on top of him. But it wasn't boulder. It was a man.

Despite the blinding sun, Z'jan forced his eyes open. He could just make out the shape of a shoulder. O'wain's shoulder. The whole thing came flooding back to him. In a clean sweep, he was overtaken by feelings of mortification, satisfaction, embarrassment, fulfillment, and fear. He swallowed; but inside he was choking. Because if this was O'wain, then Nishkath had caught Ghalath. And if Nishkath had caught Ghalath, then Ghalath was asleep with Nishkath.

And if Ghalath was asleep with Nishkath...
... then both of them were still stuck on the ledge.

The mountain air was biting against Z'jan's skin, but where his skin touched O'wain's the temperature was still tolerable. He took as deep a breath as he could manage with his aching ribs. Then, unsure why, he pressed his forehead slowly into the neck presented to him: he hid in the hallow created by the other man's shoulder, neck, and collarbone. It was warm there, and dark. He closed his eyes, if only for a moment. Maybe he was hiding from the sun. Maybe the truth.

Or maybe he needed a little comfort. Just this once. 


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#12
His ass was cold...the first moment of awareness was how a breeze kept blowing on his behind and making the little hairs there stand up. O'wain never liked having his butt cold and one hand started to move around trying to find the blanket so he could pull it over his backside and get some sleep.

O'wain's hand moved slowly in jerky movements, seemingly confused it wasn't finding anything soft or warm in it's quest. He hoped he didn't have to open his eyes, even with his eyelids closed he knew it was too bright. Then his hand hit something which moved and vanished before he could get a grip on it. Then he felt an edge, hard and crumbly. That isn't any bed edge or even a mattress of rushes tossed on the floor. In fact it felt more like rock than anything he would find in a hut.

Rock, edge, ledge? Ghalath rose and Nishkath caught her. Z'jan. The memories came back and O'wain smiled then winced. His first time with Z'jan had been far less painful than this time.

With more awareness coming to him, O'wain took stock of where he was, the warm body beneath him, his cold behind and being on a ledge with Z'jan. He then felt Z'jan press his forehead against his neck causing O'wain to smile.

Moving his wondering arm back he shifted his weight so he was more on his die, his butt against the sun warmed cliff. O'wain kept his arms around Z'jan to keep the greenrider pressed against his body, not wanting him to be cold. His arms held him firmly but lightly, the last thing O'wain wanted was the young man to jump away and fall off the cliff.

Nishkath? O'wain sent, wondering if the brown was nearby. He didn't get any response, the other's mind deep asleep. O'wain doubted he could rouse the brown even if he tried. Nothing short of a Queen's summons would rouse Nishkath now. He kissed Z'jan's head, deciding he might as well enjoy the aftermath of a mating flight in as much comfort as they could manage. Besides, O'wain was certain he just knocked some article of clothing off the cliff in his earlier quest for a blanket.

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#13
Z'jan kept his face firmly against O'wain, eyes pressed tightly shut. He needed some time in the dark. Some time not to think. Too many questions were swirling around in his mind. Did any of his injuries need healer attention? How awkward would that be? And how were the two of them going to get down? Did he still have clothes here... somewhere? And, most pressing: what was he supposed to do now that he couldn't run away?

When the other shifted, Z'jan tightened instinctively, fingers gripping into the man's chest. More questions were raised: How awake was O'wain? How aware was he of their current... uh... predicament? Z'jan's hands clenched into firsts now, trapped in the warm cave between their two bodies. Adrenaline began to pump. He prepared to fight his way free, that is, if the other man was about to inadvertently roll them both off the ledge.

But O'wain moved with coordination and calculation. He must be awake. Z'jan felt the broad arms tighten around him. Expertly, O'wain shifted both himself and Z'jan in a single move. Before Z'jan could protest, he was on his side, still tight against O'wain. A sudden gust of cold, mountain air sent a chill down his now exposed spine. Not to mention more delicate regions. At about the same time, Z'jan felt O'wain kiss his head. He swallowed, a single phrase running circles in his mind: now what? now what? now what?

SHUTUP! he screamed at himself, maybe even secretly wishing to wake Ghalath from her post-flight slumber. But the green didn't stir. Though the mental outburst helped channel Z'jan's anger. But why was he angry? Because he had been angry before, during the flight? Or because it was now... over? Z'jan considered the many possible, all uncomfortable truths. He had been angry. Rage-filled as much as lust filled. Was that what a flight was like? A bi-yearly fuck-fight that he'd now have to endure for the next thirty odd turns? The thought tied his stomach in knots. Not only wasn't Z'jan inclined toward physical violence, but was inclined towards conquering things: mountains, deep dives, tall trees... yet no matter how fast he flew, or high he went, he was still going to get conquered each time Ghalath rose. It was inevitable. And he didn't like inevitable. He liked changeable.

Z'jan kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure if he was ready to speak. And standing and milling about aimless, awkward and naked on a cliff ledge was far less attractive an idea than just sitting still and keeping quiet. Sitting tight. Holding on. And being held. Being held... why did it terrify him? To sit still in someones arms. Was it that difficult? What made running away so much easier? He waited for Ghalath to set him straight, to give him the reason he so desperately needed. But her voice didn't rise in his mind. He was alone. He'd have to sort himself out this time.

He steeled himself. With a slight shift, he curled up closer to O'wain, allowing him to sink into the other man's arms even though the whole time his mind was yelling at him to run. He tried to savor the soft heat between them, their little pocket of warm on a breezy cliff. One hand ventured hesitantly from between the two of them, rising up slowly to find the curve of O'wain's collarbone. He ran a fingertip over it, watching, the movement only inches from his face, which he kept tight against O'wain. He was going to stay this time. He had to stay this time. But that didn't mean he wanted to look his captor in the eye. Not yet, at least.

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#14
O'wain could feel the shifting tensions running through Z'jan's body. He didn't know quite what to make of it, was the man at war with himself? Shocked to be once again in his arms? Uncomfortable due to the chilly breeze that kept coming down from the mountain? All O'wain knew for certain was Z'jan's movements put pressure on a spot of his ribs that was quite sore. Not to mention his knees hurt and well other parts which became scrapped and bruised against the rock. Not his idea of a great place to win a flight on.

Then he felt Z'jan shift and start moving a finger over his collarbone which had an immediate reaction lower down. Was he hoping for some after flight fun? If they where on soft ground or better yet a bed, O'wain would be all for some more love making, but a rocky ledge, not the best place.

"We seem to be on a ledge high up on the mountainside, Z'jan." O'wain said softly. "Our silly dragons are so exhausted I doubt we can rouse them till dawn."

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#15
Yes. Z'jan thought to himself in answer. We do seem... completely fucked.

He cleared his throat, still looking down at his own hand running slow, small, nervous energy circles against O'wain's chest.

"Yeah," he started. His voice seemed strong enough, though still wasn't sure he could trust it. "I didn't...uh." Ribbons of guilt tied his stomach into knots. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Only idiots like Z'jan got themselves in these predicaments. And he didn't have any excuses, except that he'd been oblivious... and an idiot. To let Ghalath rise here... to not see that his fucking dragon was glowing...

Z'jan cleared his throat again, to collect himself. "I'm sorry," he said, stiffly. "It wasn't supposed to be... like this. I didn't..." but that sentence trailed off.

A strange taste filled his mouth. He ran his tongue tip over his own lips, discovering the split that he'd reopened by speaking. Wonderful. Just a wonderful fucking day.

"Someone will... come by... eventually."

Z'jan's efforts not to sound pitiful only made him seem  more pathetic. 

"Right?"

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#16
The finger tracing circles around his chest was turning O'wain on and he wondered if Z'jan even realized it. Considering how close their bodies were together Z'jan was bound to notice eventually.

"Don't be sorry, your dragon's first flight is often hard to predict. Unlike golds who want to eat first and make a fair bit of noise and every bronze and brown in the area clues in, it's hard to miss. Greens are more subtle in comparison. It may take a few flights till you get to know your dragon's clues and can anticipate." O'wain rubbed Z'jan's back slowly as he talked, more awake now and alert. The sun was bright from the angle it was hitting the ledge so he had to squint. He was also in a better position he could see their scattered clothing. At the very least he could get some of his clothing on but he could only see one of his boots.

"It could be worse, she could have returned to the Weyr to attract more males to chase leaving a whole bunch of confused riders trying to figure out where you were." O'wain smirked, thinking about the blues who would have loved to give chase to a newly rising green. Most of them didn't deserve chasing a rider like Z'jan nor his beautiful green. He frowned then thinking about certain blue and brown riders who probably would have ended up harming Z'jan far more than a few bruises from flightlust on a rock ledge.

"Eventually Nishkath and Ghalath will wake and get us off of this ledge. We may have to spend the night up here though if your green is as deeply asleep as my brown." O'wain didn't relish the idea of being stuck up here that long, he was hungry and thirsty. "Or we can dress and climb down ourselves."



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#17
Stretching in the early morning light, V'riy swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. He darted about the room, grabbing and donning his riding leathers hurriedly. The bronze rider's eyes searched his room until they settled on his shoulder bag, which he quickly grabbed and swung over his shoulder. 

V'riy rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he briskly strode through his hut, almost forgetting to take Morith's riding straps on his way outside to where his dragon eagerly awaited him. The agile bronzerider circled his great bronze beast, throwing the straps high up over his dragon as Morith knelt down so that V'riy could connect and adjust them. Morith butted his head against his rider's chest playfully before extending his foreleg for V'riy to mount, his eyes shining a vibrant blue.

Today was one of those days that V'riy had set aside for exploring, and he and Morith always enjoyed their time alone together away from Katila. While he had explored much of the Northern Mountains already, there were a few hidden spots that he really enjoyed. Today was a day when he simply wanted to be alone with Morith and enjoy the outdoors without worrying about looking over his shoulder or watching his tongue for fear of who might overhear him.

The pair wandered the Northern mountains, stopping in a few of their favorite places. After breaking for lunch, they continued their flight, Morith lazily gliding on wind currents. V'riy was lost in the thrill of flying and began daydreaming about recent events. Suddenly, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. V'riy asked Morith to circle overhead as he craned his neck and leaned slightly over to one side as he attempted get a better look.

Dragons? V'riy relaxed as he saw a green and brown fast asleep on a rocky outcropping.
Morith, do you know those two? he asked his bronze as the dragon began circling lower and afforded him a better view of the sleeping pair. Is that O'wain's Nishkath?

It is, the bronze said quietly, his voice soft like a bedtime lullaby. I don't want to wake them.. the green…. Ghalath... has had her maiden flight and sleeps deeply, the dragon commented. As does Nishkath. He's caught another one, the bronze said, clearly amused.

Where are their riders… oh. There. V'riy gestured with his hand even as he projected the image to Morith of the two riders. It seems all is well, perhaps we should leave them alone. Not the most comfortable of spots. They must have wanted privacy if they're all the way out here… unless.. V'riy hesitated as he narrowed his eyes. Was one of them waving?

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Oh great, a few more flights until I see the signs. Because I'm so good at seeing signs in the first place. Z'jan resisted the urge to ball up his fist and bang it against O'wain's chest. Not for anything the brownrider had done, but simply as an outlet for his growing anger. Anger at his own stupidity. O'wain's words, however, did have something of a calming effect. Reassurances were always, well... reassuring. Even if he wasn't sure he believed them.

Despite his current melancholy and uncharacteristically moody demeanor, Z'jan couldn't stifle his chuckle at imagining how this flight could have gone. O'wain was right. It could have been worse. Far worse.

He squinted against the sun, daring a peak at their surroundings. Yup, still a cliff ledge. While things could have gone worse, they definitely could also have gone better...

Z'jan swallowed, taking comfort in the arms encircling him and the hand rubbing circles on his back. And to say that O'wain was particularly virile would be an understatement. Z'jan was truly baffled at how, despite their precarious situation, the other man could once again have a hard-on. Though, thinking about it further, maybe it wasn't that strange. Adrenaline turned Z'jan on. And he supposed a high altitude fuck with the danger of tumbling off a rocky slope fit pretty squarely in the "adrenaline" category

But once again, O'wain's words drew him back. "No." Z'jan said squarely 'I'm not sleeping here." He was uncharacteristically resolute. He wanted a wash. He wanted to be warm. And he wanted to lick his wounds in peace. And none of those were possible here. "If I have to scream bloody murder to wake her up, I'll do it." He set his teeth, pouty and difficult for the first time in a very long while. Post-flight whatever. And if she doesn't like it, he snarled to himself she can bite me.

"My clothes..." he said this absently, shifting in O'wain's arms to peer around him, as much as he could in the bright, slanted rays of late afternoon light. "I don't know..." he saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that was his own. He started to prop himself up, but hit a sour spot. He cringed sharply, bucking against O'wain as he tried to shift back to his previous, less painful position. He took a moment, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead against O'wain's chest.

He recovered himself, then forced a laugh past his cringing mouth."Man.. did you aim for my ribs, or what?" He gave the brownrider a lopsided smile glancing up at him for the first time. He knew it wasn't O'wain's fault. Not any of it. But, considering the circumstances, it was the best he could do in the way of levity. And something about the brownrider made him blush. The absurdity of the situation? The past experience in the woods? The simple fact that the other man was attractive? Where was Ghalath's analysis when he needed it?

Feeling that his face must reddening, his looked away. Since when did he blush? It must be Ghalath's lingering emotions. Girls he sighed, secretly deciding it'd be easier to blame her than himself at this point.

As he tiled his head to avoid O'wain's gaze, his eyes caught a flicker of something on the bright horizon. He squinted harder, body tensing. What was... a dragon? The didn't recognize the hide color, and almost mistook the beast for a gold. But now, a bit too small. A coppery....

Z'JAN IT'S A FUCKING  DRAGON STOP FUCKING AROUND! his subconscious hit him like a punch. A Dragon! "Look" he nearly shouted in O'wain's ear, only a few inches away "it's a ---OWfuck--Dragon!" He'd tried to shift midsentence, unmindful of his bruised ribs. Mistake. He grit his teeth, giving O'wain a play-but-serious punch to the shoulder. "Flag them! Ow,ow..." and nope, trying to wriggle from O'wain's grasp wasn't any less painful. Perhaps the brownrider still thought he was going to roll of the ledge. "Shit, wher're my... pan---shir---anything." 

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Z'jan's quite stern announcement he didn't intend to sleep on the ledge overnight caused O'wain to lean back a little to regard the greenrider. O'wain wondered why Z'jan became so tense at just the suggestion? He frowned.

"I am sure we can rouse our dragons soon," O'wain began to assure the younger man thinking the idea of being stuck was causing Z'jan's aggression.

"Sorry, flightlust can get a bit rough but normally I am not one to bruise others," O'wain looked a bit sheepish. The only times he could think when he was on the rough side during a mating flight is if the green was particularly resistant to being caught by Nishkath. First flights could cause it, inexperienced green tended to get caught sooner than she may have liked.

Seeing the sudden blush on Z'jan's face surprised and amused O'wain. If Z'jan hadn't chosen to tilt his face away to hide his blush, O'wain would have kissed him. Instead he ran his hand through the younger man's hair. Then Z'jan reacted to something above and before O'wain could react, he had the word 'look' shouted in his ear.

"I never heard of an Owfuckdragon," O'wain smirked and loosened his old on Z'jan now that the younger man was wide awake and unlikely to fall off the ledge by accident. Looking in the direction Z'jan indicated O'wain did see a large bronze dragon circling back.

Moving quickly, O'wain stood up, gasping slightly as his own bruised ribs rang out. His knees were the worse though, probably because....well nobody did well kneeling on rock. He waved his arms in wide gestures and gave a few shrill whistles to catch the dragon and rider's attention.

Only when he was sure the bronzerider realized he was flagging him down did O'wain remember he was standing naked and the cold mountain breeze was doing a very good job deflating him. Not that he was in any particular need of not being deflated.

"I think he saw us, we better get dressed," O'wain suggested, turning to start picking over what clothing was still on the ledge which belonged to him.

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#20
V'riy told Morith to land as he saw one of the figures below him waving his arms back and forth. He thought that the waving man had been O'wain, but from this distance he wasn't quite sure. Morith banked to one side as he searched for a suitable landing area. The bronze dragon rumbled loudly with amusement as he confirmed O'wain's identify to his rider and sent V'riy the image of O'wain's naked body frantically flagging them down.

During the moments that it took Morith to land, V'riy experienced shock, then amazement as he processed the mental image. He knew of O'wain's sexual exploits but going out on a ledge naked wasn't something that he would have expected of the brownrider. He guessed that this particularly private flight hadn't been planned by either party.

When Morith landed on a large, flat outcropping just a short hike from the pair, V'riy was grinning from ear-to-ear and chuckling wickedly to himself as he eyed the articles of clothing scattered on the ground. He somehow managed to quiet his laughter and show a sober face to the other men by the time he slid from Morith's back and held up a hand in greeting. While he knew O'wain wouldn't mind his amusement, V'riy didn't know the other man who currently had his back turned to him and didn't want to accidentally offend him on their first meeting.

V'riy politely averted his eyes and turned his face while they gathered up their clothing and dressed. "Fancy meeting you here," the bronzerider joked lightly to O'wain as the brownrider collected his clothing. He wasn't phased in the least by O'wain's nakedness, but he definitely hadn't ever anticipated seeing him in the buff in the middle of the mountains! "Need a lift?" the bronzerider offered as he looked in the direction of the two sleeping dragons. "They're liable to be out for awhile."

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#21
Z'jan forced himself to his feet with a grunt, a groan and a mental fuck this. He nearly bit his lip off as his ribs burned his sides. I swear by faranth, if anyone makes me laugh... He stood steady for a moment, eyeing his surroundings like a drunk man eyes a table of empty wine glasses. His clothes... they had to be somewhere. He couldn't have lost all of them.

Dear Faranth - procure me undergarments asap - love Z'jan

Stooping painfully, Z'jan reached for a pile of fabric. Fuck. He chucked the shirt at O'wain, not looking up, and not caring much if it hit the other rider in the face. After a bit more scrambling, he found one of his boots. But he could hear the bronze backwinging now. Z'jan straightened stiffly, glancing between the unknown rider sliding down from his dragon and the boot Z'jan currently held in his hand. Well... he could think of one place to put it...

But luckily, the bronzerider had enough to tact to look the other way. Not that it mattered Z'jan huffed to himself, snatching up a few more pieces of clothing, throwing another sock at O'wain, and then finally examining his collected ensemble. His shirt, a Boot, his underpants (I fucking owe you faranth...), and one sock. He sighed gruffly. Fantastic.

With as much dignity as he could muster, he donned the shirt and underwear. He decided against putting on a single boot and sock, mostly because he couldn't figure out what would look more sensible: one boot/sock on one foot, or a boot on one foot and a sock on the other. And when you have to ask yourself those kinds of questions... well, best not even bother.

Stuffing his sock in the boot, Z'jan approached the bronzerider. "Yes,"  he answered quickly, not letting O'wain squeeze in any sly remarks or clever quips of his own "that'd be great. Thanks, er--" he hesitated on a name. Ghalath would have reminded him. She knew all the bronzes by sight. Z'jan had no idea why. But unfortunately for him, THAT GIRL was busy snoring her brains after getting fucked senseless.

"I'm... Z'jan." The introduction was halfhearted, and nowhere close to his usual cheerful self. But he did manage to muster a somewhat polite smile. After all, this bronzerider was going to give them a lift off the bloody mountain of doom and pain and bruisedom. And... well, it always came back to not goading the gatekeeper, didn't it?

Feeling like this wasn't quite enough, Z'jan rubbed the back of his neck slightly, glancing at the bronze and hoping the scratches, bruises and split lip weren't too obvio---of course they were fucking obvious. What was he thinking? He coughed, cleared his throat. He spoke to V'riy but his eyes never left the bronze. "Sorry I don't... have pants. Anymore."

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O'wain managed to find his underpants and was just about to pull them on when a shirt smacked him in the face. Reflex allowed him to catch it before it fell onto the ledge. O'wain straightened and raised an eyebrow at Z'jan. Turning he looked over at V'riy and grinned.

"Not the best place to wake up but certainly not the worse, at least the company made all the bruises worth it," O'wain winked at Z'jan. "We are glad you came by, I wasn't looking forward to trying to climb down off this ledge wearing half my clothing, or none at all."

Pausing to pull on his underpants then his shirt, which freed his hands, O'wain scanned around for the rest of his clothing. A sock was tossed his way but he couldn't see more than one boot. It seemed both he and Z'jan lost a boot and both their trousers. At least his wherhide riding jacket was still on the ledge. He draped it over his shoulder. Underpants and no wherhide trousers, riding a dragon was sure to chafe. All that good wherhide gone, unless he found them at the bottom of the cliff once on the ground.

"It seems we did a bit of cloth tossing while our dragons took our minds," O'wain shrugs and turned towards V'riy. "Would you be opposed to helping us get down off this ledge so we can hopefully recover the rest of our clothing at the base? After that, a lift back to our huts would be greatly appreciated."

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#23
V'riy shrugged at O'wain and gave an agreeable nod at the brownrider's request for a lift to get the rest of his clothing. "Z'jan," he said with a nod of acknowledgement. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm V'riy, and if you didn't know, this is Morith." The bronze bugled a very soft greeting at the greenrider, being careful not to wake the sleeping dragons nearby as he shifted his weight from one foreleg to the other.

Morith helpfully craned his neck over the edge and tilted his head sideways, focusing on the ground easily with his superior sight and letting out a puff of air that slightly blew over the two men as he located pieces of clothing scattered along the ground. He moved his head up and down quickly in his version of a nod and offered his foreleg to the riders before him.

Glancing at the man with his back turned to him, it was obvious to V'riy that the man was uncomfortable. "It seems we've located some clothing. One at a time, I think," he said to O'wain courteously, deciding that forcing the two men to have close contact, even for a short ride adragonback, was asking too much. Something was off. Offering a helpful hand to the brownrider, he swung O'wain easily up behind him and asked Morith to make the short flight to the lower ground beneath them.

Depositing O'wain, V'riy gave him a quick nod and after scanning the surroundings to make sure the brownrider would be safely left alone for a few moments, the bronzerider had Morith in the air again. The fit bronze beat his wings steadily as he rose upward, catching a chance upward drift of the wind and using it to gain momentum as he made his way back to the ledge. V'riy encouraged his bronze to fly straight when he could, being very careful of overusing his dragon's ability to blink /between/.

As Morith landed, V'riy studied the young man in front of him. "Z'jan..." he said after a moment, softly and not without kindness. "I thought I should.. get O'wain out of your hair. Quickly. Are you alright?" the bronzerider inquired quietly. "Not that it's any of my business.. but you don't seem like.. well, post-flight bliss, to put it bluntly," V'riy said with a concerned look. O'wain and he were on rather friendly terms, but if something untoward had happened between these two, V'riy would be the first to champion the young inexperienced greenrider before him.

sorry for the long wait! Work is CRAZY.

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