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Date Posted: 12:08:39 06/21/05 Tue
Author: Massath & R'ven
Subject: >~<
In reply to: S'peer -- Scarth 's message, "*Clones, clones*" on 02:35:50 06/20/05 Mon

Hearing Scarth's bugle, Massath glances back just long enough to catch a glimpse of the blue behind her. She shrieks again in taunting challenge, then surges forward, ready to begin this flight in earnest. Flight-strength flows through her body, letting her pull steadily ahead of the blue at a rate she would never have managed at any other time, and her tail flicks wildly behind her in delight. Once sufficiently far from Scarth's grasp, several dragonlengths ahead, she cuts sharply left, turning at almost a right angle to her previous flight path, angling upwards at the same time. Her wings bear her towards the ocean as the jungle spreads out beneath her, but she only notices either aspect of the island as a side-note in the back of her mind, useful for flight tactics but overall irrelevant to the fires burning within her. Further and higher, further and higher - and then, short of cloud-height, she twists violently in the air and comes out of the complicated knot-like maneuver in an almost completely vertical drop. Her wings are half-furled, keeping her dive from being straight down, and this early in the flight this is most certainly not the final dive. Sure enough, Massath arrows towards the jungle, sweeping past her pursuer without even a glance in his direction, and pulls up bare feet from the leafy canopy. Her wingtips actually brush foliage as she straightens out, and she begins to zig-zag rapidly just above the treetops, her innate agility enhanced by the flight-lust to keep her from fouling herself on particularly tall trees. Glancing up, she gives a teasing trill, daring Scarth to come closer to the treetops and the potential of a snagged limb or torn wing. Assuming he can keep up with her in the first place, that is. This is no near-weyrling on her first flight; Massath is an experienced and wily campaigner, and she knows all the tricks that males can get up to. Passion might burn in her veins and thrum deep in her chest, but she won't let it cloud her mind so heavily that a promising flight comes to a disappointingly swift end.

As experienced as his dragon, R'ven feels less of a need to keep his mind clear, but habits born during the disasters makes him wary of letting Scarth's rider too close, too soon. It is both the dragon and the man who turn towards S'peer, a warning in the slightly glazed green eyes and the defensive posture. One big hand lands on the rock and clenches hard on a bump on the stone, claw or fist interrupted before it could be formed. The message is clear - back off. Neither Massath nor R'ven are ready yet to let the blue pair come closer.

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