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Date Posted: 20:47:19 03/04/05 Fri
Author: Quilth and T'bel
Subject: I don't got the look, but I have got the touch!
In reply to: Jariath, F'rell 's message, ">>Bronze Wonder<<" on 17:03:09 03/04/05 Fri

Though the gold’s incredible strength and power carried her body so swiftly away, to the lone bronze off to the right of the main group, the visible speck of her gleaming hide still seems to entirely fill the sky with its radiance. Quilth inhales deeply from his position; feeling the air expand into his lungs, filling up his broad chest, and pushing a draconic diaphragm down to seemingly push the air intake even further. His head almost extends forward as his body begins to move at the moment of inhalation, sinuous lengthening neck the final element to take of the cool, sharp air around him. The other bronzes are slightly ahead of him due to a backfire in his previous maneuver, but, it is only his distance from Shrineth that ever truly mattered throughout this Flight, and it is that separation that will be corrected shortly.

Pinions flare backwards into the metallic flank, Quilth’s body swiftly plummeting towards the ground in the fastest way possible to gain speed. The wind of his own motion presses against his form as the thunder of air currents pound within his skull, and yet the constant vision of the gold beauty within his mind remains untouched. His wings fold outwards, lessening the severity of the diving angle. The lengthy muzzle rises, eyes locking back upon the gold, closer now, the movement of her sudden drop towards the Ocean placing the meaning of perfection on the draconic design. Though his body instinctively pushed onward, Quilth’s eyes were free to watch the sun’s reflection on the water dance upon her lustrous hide as she daringly soared just above the deep’s dangerous grasp, and found that despite the years of living over and beside nature’s most beautiful mistress, he had finally discovered the sea’s breathing manifestation. No, the sea’s shining superior!

Still, he had known the Ocean once, and though that location seemed naught but a distant memory in the moments of this chase, he could use this knowledge to his advantage. The sensation of pain from the ground pricked at the sides of his consciousness, and he unhappily tapped further into the separating connection. Back on the confines of the skyless earth, T’bel’s features were shining with perspiration, his teeth were clenched together in a sort of feral grin, but the skin about his face was growing russet from lack of oxygen. The dragon above him inhaled again, a motion not taken since the seemingly hour-long minute of watching golden flawlessness. The bronze rider almost snarled with matching intake air, and an instant later, two minds were again one.

Wings folded back in to his sides, stretched wing-flesh extended a few inches to maintain a slight angle of forward gain. The great blue of the ocean extended all around him, and though he instinctually remained conscious of the growing closeness of the water, Shrineth’s figure was his only true mental awareness anymore. He sensed, rather then thought about, the capability of now seeing the white caps of the water as each wave crested. Then, the image of the small fish and other creature’s just beneath the surface touched his eyes. In this instant, wings flared only slightly, bones compact enough for protection but ready for the necessary motion post-impact…

He hit the water in a streamlined fashion, one set of eyelids closing against the salty spray as muzzle, neck, shoulders, wings, chest, flank, haunches, and finally tail were captured beneath the surface. The water bubbles up slightly, then sinks down into itself, oceanic thickness pulling after the trail of the submerged. Quilth allows the dive to continue for a few seconds longer, taking in the brief vision of the oceanic world, and glancing up to see the inverted ripples beyond him where golden Shrineth flew on overhead, the utter amount of the physical sky she controlled with every wing beat seeming to cause the ocean to move in whatever way she wished it to. Quilth’s body jerks slightly, arching backwards to allow the broad air-filled chest to pull the massive bulk of bronze back to the surface. The instant his shoulders feel the cold ocean breezes, his wings thrust straight up above him and stab their way through the surface. Glimmering musculature now freed, and dampened only by the strong pull of the ocean’s wave, strains once to lift the bronze fully from the water. A great shower of sun kissed sea spray explodes about him as he rose back into the domain of dragons.

The next beat of his wings pushes him back in pursuit of the Queen, his body advancing once again in a blade-straight line. He coasts just barely above the surface, each swift and continuous downbeat of his wings, as was needed to maintain his body at a location so close to the ever pulling gravitational pull of the planet, just barely brushing against the top layer of the sea. However, knowing that too much of this close flying will soon wear him down, and needing the availability of future endurance for the next trick or display of endurance that the gifted gold had quite probably already planned, Quilth changes the position of his wings ever so slightly as to lift him a few feet up and away from the face of the water. He then continues to soar after her, mind racing through the possibilities of a new maneuver to try and impress the Gold.

On the ground, T’bel’s body begins to shake with the strain and nearly violent intensity of his life mate. Human eyes shine with the wild intelligence of a once caged animal set free, and are almost singularly coloured in the odd combination of swirling mists and passion. Flat teeth that feel like that of a draconic hunter silently snarl to the outside world, the appearance of a feral grin gleaming across the Bronzerider’s visage despite the clenched fists at his side. His face turns towards Wessae, and hardened features soften slightly, despite the eyes that could not see. Human senses are useless compared to what the man can feel in his connection with the dragon who chose him twenty-three turns ago, and with intensified draconic abilities, the mere sensation of Wessae’s presence was enough. A feeling of longing to match that of the bronze who soared above him surged recklessly through his body.

Twenty-three turns of life are enough for an admittedly adventurous bronze to feel confident with himself and his abilities. Curling his left wing loosely into his side, the dragon again pulls himself into a barrel roll. It is similar to the acrobatic movement performed earlier in the flight, but this time Quilth keeps his wings slightly looser than before, mainly accounting for the hazards of the situation, but also allowing his swirling wing tips to splash small arched sprays of water. Quilth hopes that the Queen’s current angle might allow her to see miniature rainbows if she looked back. He continues the swift whirl for a few seconds, waiting for the warmth of an assisting thermal. He hits one, and his left wing swiftly extends to both straighten his position and catch the lift of the rising air current. A brief extension, and then downward thrust of two dripping wet wings lifts him higher into the sky and his whirling eyes take one quick look around to assess his altitude. Even with this motion however, he continues moving, forward acceleration veering ever so slightly to the right in order to place himself in Shrineth’s line of vision.

Quilth croons once, the low thrum both a loving song and an optimistic announcement of his final display before he will settle back into the traditional monotony of chase. The bronze’s wings flare outwards, slowing his forward momentum enough that the next shove of wings throws his body back into an upside down loop. The gravitational pressure pulls strongly against his wings as he arches down into the bottom of the vertical aerial ring, but his shoulders tense enough to hold the yellow-bronze appendages steady, and he maintains his course. Finally, pulling out of the circle with his hind claws practically brushing the great blue expanse, Quilth rolls slowly over onto his back, and soars upside down after the golden Queen, his body hovering about nine feet above the dancing brine.

A painful cramp in one of the dragon’s shoulders goes ignored as Quilth continues to strive onwards in his flipped path. T’bel does not wince as he feels this strain on the ground, but the shared pain does pull a bit more of the human back into the connection. Words are useless at this point in the flight, but the designated symbols of communication are unnecessary. T’bel feels the roll in his own body only a second before Quilth completes the action and returns to a faster, if less impressive, upright position. Whirling garnet eyes return to the object of the connected soul’s desire, the needed golden cure for any mere physical pain. The taint of human restraint fades into nothing more than a slightly protective bit of logic, while encouragement and mirrored emotion radiates from the earth, and takes negativity’s place.

Quilth’s lithe form shoots forward after the Gold with no further displays of athleticism. Daring attempts to gain approval meant precious little if he was not close enough to the swift form of his mercurial judge. Absolute need drives his body into speeds never previously reached, the bronze’s spirit encompassed in the one being who was too far away as long as they were not together – Shrineth.

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