Feeding Grounds
The feeding grounds are fenced off from the rest of the bowl by a seven foot high wood rail fence. The grounds are large enough however that breakage is not usually an issue as the herdbeasts mill around. This is the only area of the bowl where grass is actually allowed to grow. However, not enough does to support the ever changing herd so hay is hauled daily from the stable stores located on the northeast wall from the grounds for the herd to eat. The numbers in the herd fluctuate wildly through the year, refreshed by regularly spaced tithes about once a month when snow does not clog the passes. A shelter has been built along the inside of the fence against the bowl wall for the herd, offering respite from the elements as needed but not from hungry dragons. Few ledges are found low on the bowl wall directly above the feeding grounds, but higher up they dot the stone in the same density as around much of the rest of the Weyr.
Dnocesth is not a fan of waiting, or so it seems and in this the blue is the first to take to the herds, cutting down a beast on the edge of the grounds and swiftly stopping to blood while also watching the other dragons that may protest his being there in the first place. Ed'ard looks out of place and just a bit miserable, standing off to the side. "Again, always with this ambition."
P'wyn takes a moment to consider the arrival of the lone blue dragon into the clutch of browns and blues, but he's not going to say a word, nope, not him. Especially not as his last comment got him a smack down. Then his gaze drifts off to Enolth as he takes a short winged hop to slay his own bloody meal while P'wyn just keeps a weather eye out on the current weyrleader and on the other bronzeriders in case there's a need to make a run for it.
Yh'val has been chatting with the handful of remaining weyrlings, those of the last clutch who's dragons or riders are not yet mature enough to join the wings. From the assemblage it looks like they'll be soon getting a refresher course ona certain lecture that all must sit torturously through. Unvreth has been watching a certain gold for days now. His presence near the feeding grounds is no mistake, a bronzes ambition thinly veiled as hawaiting the right moment. Snarling he moves intot he grounds in an efficient leap, snaggin as beast nad blooding, tail lashing to keep others at bay, especially foolish blues. Yh'val adds a few words in parting before moving toward the othe rgathering riders, eyeing his second a bit. "Enolth feelign lucky today?"
Sazey strides proudly across the bowl floor as she sees the males begining to gather in the feeding grounds. She's sure all eyes are on her, as they should be, and for that matter better be! The riders gathering near the fence are given a patently insincere smile of greeting. "Lovely day isn't it?" She asks coyly, eyes roving over each male as she passes. "I imagine Xaeth will be along any moment now." On reaching the fence, she coughs when one late weyrling graduate doesn't move out of the way fast enough. "You're in MY spot."
Mwoth is swift, and rather decisive in entering the fray, with a couple of bellows for the interfering and belligerant dragons that will need to be shown their place later on, but now is the time for blooding. With a quick leap, he's captured his herdbeast and is quickly blooding, muzzle stained red and talons spattered as he both guards his present kill, before discarding it for a second. This second bovine ends life with a whimper before Mwoth once more begins to drink, while O'mohe is finally arriving at the grounds, teeth clenched as he watches the assembled crowd, looking to find the weyrwoman.
Zhirazoth will be well ahead of his rider in this venture, having slowly fed more and more of his focus on a certain gold over the last few days. Now the time seems to be drawing near and in a fit of youthful ambition and perhaps a bit of ego, the young bronze pitching in his bid at a chance in this flight. Adding his own growls and hisses, he'll sweep into the grounds with the rest, mindful to keep well away from some of the competitors — for now. Snaring his first herdbeast, he kills quick and swiftly bloods, snarling if any should venture too close before that husk is discarded and a second and fresh beast is acquired. Mr'az will make his appearance then, walking briskly but entire posture tensed, jaw set in a firm and grim line, silent as his eyes dart from rider to rider as he approaches. Some he knows, some not so well but his attention lingers on Sazey and longest on O'mohe.
Xaeth can be seen leaping into the air from her ledge and circling upwards and around above the feeding grounds. While the males stir the herd into a frenzy, the autumn gold attempts to stir the males. Long slow circles that seem to have little to do with feeding but much to do with showing off. One unfortunate brown gets caught looking after just taking down his own meal and without a qualm, Xaeth dives down, drives him off and steals it. Her blooding is quick and neat, and it's off to the next. But now the males are more wary and she has to catch the next two on her own.
Unvreth lifts bloody muzzle from his second kill and roars quite challengingly in resposne to the arrival of other bronzes before his head turns at the soft sense of movement from teh sleepign gold. The field is levels and given this queens knack for shifting mates his chances may be better than… others. Then Xaeth is sunning no more but within teh pens and Unvreth wings to a lower ledge giving the queen room and tensing for the next step in pursuit. Yh'val dips his head respectfulyl to teh Weyrwoman, hardly fooled by her tone. Eyes meet up with O'mohe's, a silent challenge which will be fought soon inthe skies above.
In this as in other things, Dnocesth is rather quick and wary and he backs off to just watching and waiting. He is tense, ready for that moment that Xaeth will take to the skies and Ed'ard continues to moan out his own litany of complaints to no one in particular. "Every single sharding time. You know you're never going to catch her. Or any other gold you idiotic blue."
P'wyn is willing to stay out of the way of the bronzeriders as well. Yh'val's been a bit tense lately, and well O'mohe's best to be avoided at all times. He glances once more to Enolth, but the darker brown is now biding his time, waiting for the moment and stepping from foot to foot in a flurry of impatience and constrained energy.
Mwoth moves with that same restrained grace that brought him to the feeding grounds, giving up his drained kills when he decides he's done with them and not before, although he does have the courtesy to move out of Xaeth's way as she scatters the herds. Soon though he joins the crowd of onlooking males in posturing and waiting. O'mohe is having none of the lack of courtesy, giving fierce glares out to anyone that dares meet his gaze, before there is a slight glance of vulnerability as he looks once at Sazey, then his jaw tightens and his shoulders square further, determination settling in.
Zhirazoth will be one of the others caught admiring as Xaeth shows off, too young and inexperienced to know of the tricks played. He will learn soon enough as that unfortunate brown is chased off and the bronze flares his wings to cover his kill in a protective and defensive manner. His posture tenses, poised for a springing leap no matter the given cause and now he keeps a wary and ever cautious eye turned on the gold as she bloods. Second beast discarded, he lifts his head to answer Unvreth's roar of challenge before leaping off for a third herdbeast. This kill is messier, as Zhirazoth's impatience grows and his attention devides between Xaeth and the other bronzes, browns and — yes, even the blue. Mr'az simply comes to stand among the group of gathering riders, the grimness in the cast of his mouth not lessening even as his eyes look out to the feeding grounds. Sighing, he resigns himself to fate though at O'mohe's fierce glare he only stands firm and perhaps even dares to subtly lift his chin in defiance that is not entirely his alone.
Sazey applauds gleefully for her lifemate's thievery. The brown's rider is given a smirked pouty lip and finally the weyrwoman turns to take this a bit more serious. Or possibly it might be due to Xaeth's final kill. By now the gold is ablaze with the energy from the blood. Her tongue whips out to swipe the last drop off the end of her muzzle and she turns to look around the field. That's right boys, watch me now! Her wings still mantled from the kill, she bugles definance across throughout the grounds and launches into the air. Sazey gives a small gasp at the same time, swaying like a tree in the breeze. The gold heads straight upwards at first in a bid to gain as much altitude as she can before the males get off the ground. Once up it's through the spires and she's gone from the sight of those still on the ground.
Feeding Ground Sky
A number of small ledges dot the bowl wall between one and two dragonlengths above the feeding grounds. No actual weyr residences are found this low on the wall, however. The stone of the ledges look stained by the feedings they support, dark, almost rusty hued streaks seem to drizzle just over the edges despite the routine cleaning the normal weathering gives them. Below that a arc of clay tile roofing follows the bowl wall, the top of the open shelter provided to the herd. It is only one small part of the feeding ground which is an otherwise open expanse. The herd is hardly allowed free reign of the bowl, while large, the feeding area is fenced in. The wooden railing is easily traced from above until it disappears into the lake waters. The herd often mills about in two or three smaller groups scattered around the feeding grounds in chaotic patterns by the antics of hungry dragons.
Yh'val lifts a hand to shade his face from the dust and wind kicked up by the flock of dragons chasing the shining queen. Up, up and away they dissapear past the spires and over the bowl rim. Out of sight he steadies himself firmly and closes his eyes to be with his partner, far, far above.
O'mohe has clenched hands now, that Mwoth has risen up after Xaeth and his gaze turns toward the path the dragons have chosen before he turns back to look around the bowl for a long moment and then too, his own eyes close as he braces his feet slightly in the dirt.
In the sky, Unvreth barely blinks and she's gone. A rising star to threaten the mighty sun he follows instinctively thrusting skywards with his greatest effort. Wings stroke down at the right moment, the tips brushing against a brown a heartbeat behind his own launch the skies crowding in those first jostlign moments. He rises clear, twisting and anglign upwards, following the path set up over the rim and spires and out of sight of human eyes, treading where only dragons dare to follow.
In the sky, Dnocesth is up and into the air as quickly as possible, rising with a speed that only him being a blue can accomplish. He works hard now in these first few moment to make the most of this limited chance he has to catch Xaeth, before she's too far out of reach. Still even the best of efforts for him is not to be rewarded today and he is already falling back by the time she is still rising away from the spires of the weyr.
In the sky, Enolth is up and away, following after that great glowing beacon that leads them up and into the skies. She's quick and crafty, so both he must be as well as he follows up over the weyr bowl and away. He falters once as he's neatly clipped by a bronze and has to check back, bellowing slightly at the insult and the time lost. He attempts to make up for the space that he's allowed her to gain, but it may not be enough now.
Mr'az's mouth twitches into something akin to a grimace as Zhirazoth springs aloft with the rest and a few hissed words (or curses) are exhaled through his teeth. Tensed, his gaze remains skyward for now and his hands rest at his sides, curling and uncurling in a slight fidgeting manner.
In the sky, Zhirazoth is watching! And waiting and at last his (rapidly thinning) patience pays off and he will add his roar of challenge to Xaeth's bugle of defiance. His last kill is discarded, no attention paid to the blood still spattered over his dark muzzle as he gathers himself into a crouch and springs upwards with a powerful surge, wings flared to their full length. Up and up he goes, pushing himself to spar and vie for a front leading spot from the start and perhaps in the end it will be a costly and overly ambitious move. But he is young and for now he is bound and determined, fueled with enough energy and strength to keep his wingstrokes firm and strong.
In the sky, Mwoth is slower than some of the others, but he makes up for it in a nearly dogged determination in how he goes about his chase, leaping up into the air and continuing on even as he has to move past the first wave of faltering dragons. He continues on, wings straining with effort as he drives further up into the skies after Xaeth as she contines to climb until they are well past the walls of the weyr and up into the higher peaks of the mountainous regions around.
In the sky, Xaeth might be heading out as far and as fast as she can, but that's really not so much faster then the others and so the gold keeps glancing back, which only slows her more. When a wily bronze attempts to take advantage of this, coming from her blind side, Xaeth screams and veers wildly at the last moment. She manages to escape him with a nasty swipe to the face in the process but tumbles from the sudden jerk, losing altitude and speed before righting herself. Now the pack is much too close and she's frustrated. She dives lower still, using the moment to try and make up distance but drawing into the dangerous currents of the mountain peaks as she does. Can't someone save the damsel in distress?
Sazey has long since stopped paying any attention to the others around her. Her eyes are closed, her face set without the normal discontent, and tilted into the sun. Then Xaeth begins to fall, she screams in fear and anger, her own voice lost into that of her lifemates as the two calls bounce around the weyr.
In the sky, Dnocesth is much to far back to help a damsel in distress, in fact he was nearly back to the weyr but that doesn't stop the blue from answering the call of the queen and he turns around to attempt to help. Still, he's going to be so far back and so late to the arrival of whatever happens that it won't make any difference to the outcome.
In the sky, Enolth redoubles his efforts, although his dark brown wings have already begun to tremble with the strain of trying to keep up with the pack of chasers. There is an anticipatory sort of motion now along with his efforts as he tries to come closer to the sideswiped queen although from how far back he is, he really has no chance.
In the sky, Mwoth has been waiting for this chance from the queen, and he moves to shoulder another bronze out of the way to try and clear a spot for himself next to the bright lady that should be his. An angry bellow as Xaeth screams and he tries to move closer, attempting to work out where the queen will be and work out the best path for saving her from her tumble and from the other bronzes around her.
O'mohe is moving now, not caring if it's not etiquette as he moves toward Sazey, his face set in a mulish line.
In the sky, If Zhirazoth had waited, he would have more than happily and eagerly dived straight into the role of saving the damsel in distress. Who doesn't wish to play the hero? But no, the young bronze feeds into his brashness, his lofty desires and inexperience pushing him too far and overriding logic with foolishness. Even as his strength begins to wane, Zhirazoth attempts the daring move on Xaeth while the gold has her head turned from him. The bronze's triumphant cry is never voice and instead he is rending the sky with a bitter cry of pain and disappointment as he is turned back from the swipe the gold takes at his face. Seething, he tumbles down and struggles to recover, even then attempting to make one last final push though his chances are growing slimmer with each stroke of his wings as the other competitors overtake him.
In the sky, Unvreth strokes the air, riding the currents he has known for turns upon turns. Of the other males the blues are contemptuously ignored, any brown is fairly well discounted but the other bronzes… those he keeps a bit of a tab on. Seen as his only true rivals there is the young and energytic, perhaps a bti foolish Zhirazoth, and then there is his sibling and rival Mwoth among others. Deep breaths and the fiery energy of blood help to fuel his own efforts to show his own supremacy, and the moment is suddenly at hand. He jostles with the nearest rival, a hiss for Mwoth and he folds his wings to intercept the falling queen. Who does hte weyr favor, who will the queen choose, or will it be simple fate? Not jsut fate, not with these efforts, he reaches out…
Yh'val is brash enough as the flight nears conclusion, grabbign O'mohe's arm as he moves all to clsoe to Sazey. "Not quite yet…" he hisses in the passion of flight. Lest there be rumor of favor, ti will be a fair catch by whomever.
In the sky, Xaeth is headed for disaster at this rate and so it's time for the gold to choose. With a flash of her normal fickleness, she looks about from bronze to bronze, completely ignoring the browns and poor blue left so far behind. Zhirazoth? Too young, and the bronze is falling in the wrong direction anyways. Her head turns to glance at Unvreth. Maybe? But for once the gold stays true. Just when it seems she's about to let an undraft carry her into the grasping claws of Unvreth, she tilts over, dropping right into Mwoth's flight path, and breaks. It's just a splinter of time before the bronze catches up and entangles her, claiming his place as leader once more.
Mr'az grunts as he's jarred from the flight enduced spell on his thoughts, blinking furiously as one hand reaches up to scrub wildly at his face. Swearing and growling under his breath, the young bronzerider stumbles back a step, only to firm his stance again and recover. The brash movement of Yh'val reaching for O'mohe is caught then and Mr'az only grits his teeth, mouth set back into that grim line as his eyes narrow on the two bronzeriders.
Sazey seems just as indecisive as her gold with the way she sways back and forth against the fence. When Xaeth finally picks, the weyrwoman's eyes open in surprise and those closest to her later would swear, she mutters a slightly offended, "Again?" but that might be just rumor. The weyrwoman closes with O'mohe and pulls him back towards her room.
In the sky, Dnocesth breaks back first, ducking back to the weyr to nurse his pride and wounded ambitions as the blue settles back down to the weyr grounds properly.
In the sky, Enolth takes only a moment or so before he too, is wheeling away from the pack as he is overlooked to the queens champion tonight and he heads back to the weyr proper, forgetting his rider in his hurry to head on back to his weyr.
In the sky, Mwoth now has permission to take care of Xaeth again, that he's been denied these past days and so the bronze does, carefully pulling a curtain closed behind the two of them. That's all folks!
O'mohe angrily shakes off Yh'val's hand before reaching out toward Sazey once more, tilting his head down to the shorter woman, "Might I escort you back to your abode?"
In the sky, Unvreth doesn't ahve the energy left to protest as Xaeth slips to teh side and intot he wings of another. He lets himself fall a few moments more and then spreads his wings, anglgin back tot he weyr and the comfort of his partner.
Sazey takes O'mohe's hand and allows him to escort her home.
In the sky, Zhirazoth stood little chance after receiving that rebuffing blow from Xaeth and now as Mwoth claims the gold again, the young bronze can only snarl in disappointment, seething again in what should have been his in his mind. Exhausted and stinging in so many ways, he folds his wings and with the last of his strength drops back down to the lower skies before unfurling them again to hurriedly glide in to land back on his ledge and nurse his injured and still so youthful pride.
Mr'az will not linger long by the feeding grounds as once the winner is confirmed, the bronzerider is moving away at the same brisk pace that carried him there, disappearing to no doubt join his lifemate. Time for damage control.
Yh'val drops back, although he looks a bit surrpised he swallows whatever he might say and simply steps away.
