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[Wolf Tears]

[OOC- You guys don't deserve this. You deserve a beautiful, lengthy, well-thought-out post that I simply don't have time for. x.x Planningplanningplanning, with some packing thrown in, ate up all the time I had set aside for today to make that post, which is currently unedited and only about half-written. It [i]will be edited into this post eventually, though.[/i]

It's been fun, guys. Thanks for all your fantastic replies, and also for putting up with my own. XP

So, without further ado... okay, maybe a little, because I like being mean... >:D Maybe I should make you wait after all?

Nah. The winner, so sayeth Zajadisth and so it shall be, is bronze Skepnadth of E'rik.

Though I will tell you that she was not happy when I tossed the decision to her. Okay- she was happy to snub Okath, because she was annoyed at him, but other than that, she was thoroughly unamused. Than again, what in this Flight (other than Okath, who spent an equal amount of time annoying her) amused her anyway?

EDIT:
OMG, I actually like this post. Wow. XD Here you go, Lesa- and again, apologies for taking so long.]

It’s truly amazing that such a clumsy woman as Lakiya could turn around in Flights and suddenly become the very image of grace. Mind over matter every time, my friends; Lakiya’s usual clumsiness was, it seemed, more a product of her lack of confidence as any actual physical deficiency. And while there were quite a few things that Lakiya and Zajadisth were lacking in during this particular Flight- including, quite possibly, sanity- confidence was not one of them. Not for the raging, sorrow-wracked queen, confident in her ability to outfly the males, or the smirking rider, too caught up in the moment to feel much of anything else at all.

The males were just as confident, however- and though it was really getting on Zajadisth’s nerves, it was rather amusing for Lakiya. Without the inhibitions of her regular mind, she was free to spend this Flight as she saw fit- and it wouldn’t do if they all shied away from her, would it? No, it was far more entertaining to watch them, all so sure that they would win, and know that only she- only they, Zajadisth protested- had the power to choose, and to keep them from knowing. Oh, they would think they knew, but she would never remain with one for very long. Normally, a part of her knew, she would never do this, never act like this- but this wasn’t normal. This was a Flight she had no chance of defending herself against- not with Flightlust pouring into her, denied its natural outlet by the gold in the skies.

This was many things, but it was not normal.

---------------

In all of this, there was on bit of amusement: Okath.

Zajadisth had a harder time being annoyed at him than the others, largely because the others kept talking to her and making her think about things, which was the last thing she wanted right now. And there was something to say for nostalgia, remembering how the bronze had been when she was a weyrling- and, more to the point, something to say for flattery. He realized before anyone else why she was plastering herself against the canyon wall, and it made her feel a tiny bit better to know that someone actually appreciated something she was doing, not something that she was or had been.

And then the brown, Ulakith, made his move, and all the others screamed their rage- but Okath was the one she had last been paying attention to, and so he was the one unlucky enough to be the target of her offended anger. Did he think she needed help- from him, or from anyone? She didn’t! She was fine on her own- if she couldn’t have Yidoxeth, she was fine on her own...

Say what you please, the incensed gold snapped at Jerandith. The end will be what it is- there is little choice to that.

If nothing else, she had learned that.

---------------

Lakiya laughed gently, blinking at A’syr. She did not bother to speak; words, it seemed, belonged to the dragons of this Flight. Even if she could string a coherent sentence together- and she honestly wasn’t sure if she could- what would she say? When it came down to it, it wasn’t for her to decide how this played out- it was for Zajadisth. And Jerandith could say anything, do anything- but her dragon, the Weyrwoman was certain, cared even less for the humans in this room than she did for the dragons chasing after her.

So she only shook her head and turned to find herself facing San’tia. For a moment she pulled back, startled by the green tinge on his skin, wondering if it was illness- but moments later she realized it was only Okath’s coloring showing through. With a half-smirk at her own confusion, she reached out a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes, staring at them even as they began, disconcertingly, to shift between to purple, and briefly to red.

But Zajadisth said no, and linked as she was to her dragon, she could not bring herself to stay here. There were others here, anyway; with a dismissive air, she let the bangs fall again and stepped back. Moments passed as she swirled, searching the eyes of those nearby; for a single second she seemed to move toward S’lan, but a gust of wind caught her wings and moved her away.

It was none too soon; had she been any nearer to one of the men, she may have fallen into him as the realization that she did not have sings caused her to stumble and crash to the ground- because how could she fly, if she had no wings?

---------------

Zajadisth’s sensation of falling was brief; in that moment of panic, what was left of Lakiya’s mind was absorbed instantly by the gold’s, calming her a bit but also lending her renewed energy. Beating her wings more strongly again, the queen found and caught an updraft and allowed it to carry her higher for a few moments before slipping out- remaining in the thermal would have left her flight patterns far too predictable- and wheeling in an upward spiral, considering the most recent words to be spoken as she did so.

Skepnadth was confusing.

Zajadisth wasn’t about to say that and admit that there was something here that she didn’t understand- but he was. Something about his words, his manner, hit far too close to home, and even as a part of her longed to be comforted, it also reared away, unsettled by this unusually gentle bronze.

It was easier, much easier, to focus on Guiyath. She snorted and tossed her head, twisting the words in her mind until she could find an interpretation to fan her anger- because at this point, anger was the only thing she was comfortable. Skepnadth’s poetry, wherever it had come from or whatever it was supposed to mean, had unsettled her far too much; more comforting than acceptance was the familiar fire of rage, and she slipped back into it with almost frightening ease.

I am here. You are here. We all are here, so there must be something. But if this is everything- I would rather have nothing.

---------------

It is extraordinarily difficult to mimic the motions of a winged creature when one is bound to the earth, but it is an art that every person bonded to a female dragon seems to have manage one point or another. Lakiya was no exception; she moved as her dragon did, rose and fell on her toes in mimicry of the beating of wings, snarled and turned and stepped in synchrony with her bond.

And if occasionally the lack of wings or the brief image of a human face confused her, she could hardly be blamed- because what were these were things that had no place in the Flight she had given herself up to.

The glow was unnecessary; what light she could see was seen through Zajadisth’s eyes with Zajadisth’s mind. There was nothing left of her, not even her senses.

And now, at last, this Flight could begin.

---------------

A few of the males- the last brown, and a bronze or two- fell away, unable to go on any longer, and Zajadisth caught a rumble of relief before it escaped. The fewer there were, the fewer she would have to deal with; the more that dropped out, the better chance she had of outdistancing the rest. What would happen then, she didn’t know- but surely anything involving her on her own would be better than something involving this lot.

Zajadisth.

Hissing, she turned to face the bronze that had spoken her name. Another one? Why would they not give it up? What do you want, Kyrinth?

Kyrinth was obviously down for the count; his wings were labouring more and more with each passing second, but he still flew after her. Answer me. Please. Would Yidoxeth want this?

With a scream of rage Zajadisth flew at him, lashing at his wings with her claws; back in the room, unaware of her actions, Lakiya scratched at a man’s shoulders, drawing unfelt blood. But even though she managed to make him drop from the sky even sooner than he should have, his words continued to echo in her head, spiraling around in her own mind’s attempt to betray her and make her face the answer.

Because the answer, if she gave it all the honesty she had, was no.

Everything... or nothing at all.

He would want her to choose everything.

She should have been saddened by that idea- wanted to be saddened by that idea- but she wasn’t. There was some sort of freedom in it, in fact, and though that still scared her, she clung to it. This had gone on long enough. Hearts that broke continued to beat on, whether they wanted to or not; hers had, and would continue to beat until the day she died.

It was time to do something about it.

---------------

It was with a gasp and a stagger that Lakiya found herself back in her weyr; for several moments the world spun beneath her feet, and she nearly fell before she realized that she was on solid ground again.

”What-“

The Weyrwoman reached out to her dragon’s mind, and was surprised to find more there than she had before. Still sorrow, yes, and still anger at herself but something more- a sort of acceptance. She had allowed the rest of her emotions to break through, flooding into her mind as the dams broke down, leaving Lakiya free to think clearly, for just a moment.

It wasn’t long before the backlash hit and the emotions balanced out between them- but it was long enough for her to smile.

---------------

There was a kind of freedom in acceptance, in moving on. Freedom comes when you learn to let go; she thought she remembered hearing that line in a song from a long time ago, and not understanding it. Of course you had to let- but other people had to let go of you, too. One could not fly if one’s wings were chained by another.

But she understood a little more deeply now, the power that someone could hold over you even when they didn’t mean to. It wasn’t just the captor that had to let go- it was the captive, too.

There was a mental murmur of surprise behind her, and she rumbled in amusement- was it really that obvious? Perhaps it was. Her movements were made with a different kind of urgency now- not the need to get away, but desire and the knowledge that she was beginning to tire and must make a choice now, before she ran out of time. A different kind of urgency, indeed- and perhaps it was noticeable, because even though her turns were still sharp and her wings still beat as strongly, there was a new, appraising light in her eye- an almost playful one, at that- as she considered those who followed her. Red still flickered there occasionally, but it was mostly gone now, overtaken by purple.

What did linger was grey. It would always linger, she thought, even when it did not show in her eyes; even with a dragon’s memory, she would never forget, not entirely. He would always shine in her mind; her days would, in some strange way, be forever his.

But this was now- it was not quite yet time to begin forever.

I do not wish to be fixed, she told the males thoughtfully, eyeing them even as they eyed her- and she was even beginning to see them in a similar light, a purple light made of Flightlust that shone against the darkness of the sky, even as her own hide did. Her words were true; there was so much in her that was broken, even still, and she knew that there would be some who would try to fix them, but she did not want that. Some things weren’t meant to be fixed- especially not by others. Some things just had to heal on their own.

And that, she realized, was a question- and an answer. Almost all of them- of those that had spoken, that was- had said something to try and alleviate her fears or her pain her anger. And though in a way she appreciated that, she also resented it. She was Zajadisth; she was queen; she did not need help.

And so on tiring wings she dipped a little lower, back toward the bronzes, ignoring all but one.

I do not think you will try that. Not if she asked him not to. He was like that, she reflected as she drew herself nearer to him, brushing her wingtip against his hide for the second time that night. Will you, Skepnadth?

---------------

This was usually the last moment- one of the only moments- that Lakiya had to think for herself. And no matter how many times she found herself having arrived in it, she was always surprised at how she had managed to find the right person- and, truth be told, at the clarity of thought itself, after having been linked so perfectly to her dragon.

But that was beside the point; it always was. Lakiya had long since grown use to this sort of surprise, and so it was with no hesitation or anxiety that she leaned her head down to kiss E’rik of Skepnadth- another motion that was being made for the second night tonight, but one that, like Zajadisth’s, was somehow different. This kiss was more careful, less teasing, but at the same time more urgent, as Flightlust began to haze her vision and her thoughts once more.

It took her only a moment to surrender to it- the same moment in which, far off in the sky above, Zajadisth finally found it in her to let go, for these few moments at least, and allow wings and her self to become entwined with Skepnadth’s.

That was, after all, the purpose of a Flight.

[Lesa]

Skepnadth pushed himself onward, crooning in delight as Zajadisth's scent wafted across his delicate nostrils, though the cold air burned as he drove it down into his lungs, much as he drove down his wings to remain airborne.

It-she-had changed. The spice of anger was gone, replaced in its strength by the delicate musk of lust, though, much like a still green redfruit, her scent was still tart with regret, not, as he could tell by her movements, the regret of a love no longer there...just regret of their passing. The redfruit analogy stayed with the dragon, who though he had never tasted the fruit, was interested by the funny looking things, for her scent also carried a lightness, a sweetness to it that had not been there. Relief? Joy? He couldn't tell.

This change gave him strength to push on, even as sight of her eyes confirmed what his sense of smell had told him...the red was all but gone, though purple and grey remained.

"I do not wish to be fixed."
Her voice startled him out of his musings, more for the softness of the tone than anything else-gone were the strident, angry words of before. Now the bright angel seemed...coy, charming-not peaceful-but relaxed, confident.

"I do not think you will try that." The brush of her wingtip made him shiver, as it had before, for he, like his rider, was unused to touch,"Will you, Skepnadth?"
It humbled him, this gift she was giving him, this complete and utter trust, the promise, the fact that she-well, everything about her humbled him. And that, he realized, was in a way nothing but good.
"Nay, fair one. For I know what it is like to be broken and hurt. I will help you and support you...but not fix you. Only you can fix yourself, a stór." With that, the wide-winged bronze gently wrapped himself around his golden gift, opened his wings, and set them soaring through the upper atmosphere towards their home.

--

E'rik was almost at a loss when he came to himself enough to find Lakiya before him, leaning down...her kiss was sweet, gentle, yet strong. The one word his tired mind came up with was perfect, even as dragonlust began to flow back through his veins and his arms came up to wrap around her, one pulling her close at the waist, dark, had he known it, against the silver of her dress, the other light against the night-darkened hair spilling down the Weyrwoman's back as he rested it against the nape of her neck, keeping her head angled towards his. Some part of his rapidly lost mind noted the remaining male riders slowly trickling their way out of the weyr...he was too busy tugging her over to her bed, trying to avoid tripping over his own feet as he walked backwards.

((Whoo, blackout! And the awkwardness shall begin! =D Short because the boys are still too 0.0 to tell me much. Musta been goood! XD))