A Frosty Flight

Writers: Aaron, Corrin, Devin, Heather, Iluva, Shawna, Sia
Date Posted: 11th April 2025

Characters: Zariah, X'eri, E'kavas, K'mai, T'gyrlan, J'ler, Th'reyos
Description: Relsath won’t let a little blizzard get in the way of a flight
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 6, day 26 of Turn 12

X'eri

Mentioned:

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The blowing snow was keeping everyone with any sense tucked up inside
their weyrs, everyone except Zariah. The greenrider was trudging her
way back towards her weyr with a basket of storm supplies (namely tea,
klah, and snacks). Not that she was particularly recognizable, bundled
up as she was with her hood and scarf hiding everything but a sliver
of her eyes. Only the desperate hope that Relsath would sleep all the
way through this storm had made her willing to brave the weather.

The proddy green had been more than a handful the past day or two, and
while Zariah was sure her dragon had more sense than to actually rise
in a blizzard, she was at that stage where she didn’t want to be told
what to do about anything, and it didn’t make for the best company.
They’d already gotten in a spat the night before when Relsath’s
insistence on flirting with Kohath had made Zariah’s attempts to talk
to X’eri about taking their son skiing dissolve into an utterly
incomprehensible mess of signs until the greenrider had just stormed
off.

Zariah had almost made it back to her weyr when she suddenly felt her
dragon snap awake with a wave of heat that could only mean that
Relsath was not, in fact, too smart to rise in a blizzard.

The green’s challenging call as she charged into the driving snow
probably didn’t carry nearly as far as she would have liked, but that
didn’t stop at least a few foolhardy males from following her into the
snow.

Zariah changed directions, heading instead towards the flight weyrs,
trying not to let her worry about the weather conditions ruin the high
of the flight. She felt a little bad for the men about to be sent out
into the cold, but at least she didn’t have the only dragon foolish
enough to brave the weather.

It came as no surprise to X'eri when Kohath declared that Relsath was
rising, in the middle of a snow storm no less. His attempt to talk
with Zariah the evening before over something so simple had been far
more difficult than usual. Thumping Yasmeane in the shoulder, she had
been leading the way to the Wing meeting they were supposed to be
having, he signed to her that Kohath was chasing and then wrapped his
scarf more securely about his neck and lower face before heading
across the weyrbowl to the flight rooms.

E'kavas could hear Relsath's roar from his weyr. "Don't you do it." He
called like he was trying to shoo Peeve off the counters. "It's
_freezing_, why-"

Roquath's returning roar was cut short by a drift of snow landing
across his face and neck, upset by Relsath setting off from the ledge
above. No weather would prevent him from shooting his shot with a
green. Shaking the snow off, the brown leapt into the wind and after
her.

E'kavas muttered a litany of curses about his dragon and his
misfortune of Impressing as he redonned the winter riding gear,
complete with a hat with ear flaps, a scarf, and mittens.

**Have you _seen_ the snow out there?** K'mai complained to his blue.

}:I can still fly. I will still be able to catch her!:{

**That's not the point! It's cold. The snow is blowing _sideways_!**
K'mai loved flights, but not today.

}:Put on a coat. I want Relsath.:{ Sebeth jumped off the ledge.

K'mai made a frustrated noise and started shoving layers on as fast as he could.

There was a blizzard raging, but T'gyrlan was slick with sweat. He had
stripped down to his trousers and a loose pullover, breath coming
sharp and fast as he pushed through a final set of push-ups on the
floor of his weyr. His muscles burned, but that was the point. On days
like today, he needed to keep busy, and warm.

He had lit the fireplace and and extra brazier, but the warmth barely
made a dent in the pervasive cold. He had to keep moving.

Flipping onto his back, he took a deep breath and began his crunch set--

}:Relsath rises.:{

**Shards, _now_?**

}:Now. I will chase.:{

**But your wing--**

}:Is fine.:{ said Hanassath with the certainty of a dragon who no
longer remembered the pain. }:You like Her. I will chase.:{

T'gyrlan swore under his breath and scrambled for his flight jacket,
the single warmest thing he had at hand. He glanced at the
corresponding pants on their peg, but dismissed them. There'd be no
squeezing into that leather contraptions right now, not with Hanassath
ready to spring from the ledge. With a growl, he snatched the massive
black fur off his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders before
racing out to catch a ride down to the flightrooms on his bronze.

}:Outside, the snow is falling, But a lovely green is calling, 'chase
on, my suitors daring,' Not a single second sparing, Through the wind
and frost and cold Fortune rains upon the bold,:{ Maishoth began.

**Hold up, don't tell me you're chasing in this?**

}:The best among us ain't afraid, Ain't deterred, and ain't delayed,
Graceful Relsath owns the skies, Owns the clouds, and owns my prize,
Don't look down, and don't look back, Don't ease up, and cut no
slack.:{

**Maishoth, stoppit, it's too cold for this!**

}:I'm the one with what you need,
All the power and the speed,
And I'll meet you in the air,
We'll go higher than you dare,
I'll take you far beyond the edge,
And then we'll rest upon my ledge.:{

**You are such a goofball.** J'ler was not about to convince him not
to fly after he had composed all that. Not that poetry had ever won
him a flight yet.

Zarkarth's own challenge normally rang out across the cliffs of
Dragonsfall, but instead it got swallowed up in the blurring white
vortex in the sky. A blizzard was not ideal, but Relsath was. One
moment he was there, throwing wings open against the wind, the next
sucked up into the fray before Th'reyos had finished groaning and
shutting his book.

**Damnit Zar,** Th'reyos looked scruffier than usual as he poked his
head up over the couch. Piled beneath more blankets and furs than he
rightly thought were his, the brownrider hadn't intended to go
anywhere. Heat was little more than a distant memory these days and it
wasn't easy to give it up.

And yet furs littered the floor and his baggiest sweater and warmest
flight jacket got shrugged up big shoulders.

Relsath was a long shot even in clear and calm skies, but it was never
in his dragon's nature to shirk a challenge. **Alright, careful.** He
grumbled, though as he set off to the flight rooms, heat had already
found a new source: their link, their blood, and just like that, a
smirk found his lips, too.

The heavy snow meant Zariah wasn't the first to the flight weyrs, her
body shivering even as her mind burned with dragon lust. She stumbled
in, almost running into one of the men already inside, confused and
disoriented in a not unpleasant way by that familiar feeling of
inhabiting both her own body and Relsath's.

Relsath saw Kohath through a break in the snow and let out a pleased
rumble though she didn’t bother to slow down, feeling satisfied that
her completely unsubtle attempts at flirting must have worked. Her
satisfaction was slightly interrupted by Maishoth’s poetry, the green
in no mood to hear it. She was not here to be lured or wooed, she was
here to be _caught_. His poetry was better spent on less competitive
greens.

A flash of blue in her peripheral vision had Relsath veering away
towards thicker snow, staying well away from Sebeth. There were browns
and bronzes at hand, and a little voice in her head said ‘wingmate’ in
a disapproving tone she didn’t currently understand but had no
interest in fighting. That same warning applied to Zarkath, and the
green rejected him with the same carelessness. There were still so
many options. The other shining bronze pleased her even as she tried
to avoid him. Hanassath had caught her twice now, it was time for a
change. Roquath, she ignored with the same disregard as when she’d
dumped snow on him. He was not a yes, he was not a no, he was just
there.

}:Catch me if you can,:{ The green climbed through the heavy clouds in
the frigid air, trying to get above the driving snow that turned her
chasers into dark flashes that appeared and disappeared. She did
succeed in climbing above the worst of it, though snow and ice clung
to her as she burst into slightly clearer air. She simply gave a snap
of her wings, scattering the snow back at her chasers.

Down in the flightroom T'gyrlan huddled under his fur blanket. The
heat of the chase was doing something to warm him, but not enough--
and he wasn't nearly as heavily dressed as some of his competitors. He
recognized a bundled shape to be E'kavas by the weave of its mittens,
and were he in his normal state of mind, might have shared his
blanket-- but E'kavas was crusted with snow and T'gyrlan was half in
the flight, so he just growled and pulled his fur closer when the man
came near.

High above them, Hanassath burst through the cloud cover behind
Relsath. He had blindly guessed her direction, having learned some of
her tendencies while they amused themselves during their rider's
'meadow trips'. He surged forward now, through the biting wind, talons
outstretched to sweep her away.

Roquath had not been so lucky in guessing Relsath’s trajectory. A
sudden shift in the wind had thrown him off course, sending him into a
spiral that cost him precious wingbeats before he corrected. When he
burst through the clouds, it was into the wake of scattered snow left
behind by the green. He banked sharply, trying to adjust, but found
himself staggeringly off-course and in a bad position to try to catch.

In an ordinary situation, E'kavas might have laughed at T'gyrlan's
state of undress. He could picture the messy bachelor weyr, complete
with unmade bed missing the top blanket. Instead his flight-induced
scowl was hidden under a scarf, and he made sure at least some of the
snow he shook off himself landed on the bronzerider.

Bundled under a coat, hat, and scarf K'mai still shivered. His eyes
scanned the flight room and . . . no, of course H'run wasn't here. And
if he was, that would be a bad, _bad_ idea. **Catch her!** he told
Sebeth as his mind flew higher with the blue.

}:You are making us work hard, Relsath,:{ Sebeth said with approval,
his wings trailing snow as he twisted to avoid the other chasers. The
lighter snow made it easier for him to maneuver and he gained a few
dragonlengths on the green.

Kohath soared over a blue, his talons nearly touching the azure back
of his competitor. }:Relsath!:{

She was well within Zarkarth's sights now, and he knew enough of her
agile flying to anticipate some of her twisting-- though not knowing
what the weather might have in store, he dodged a chunk of flying snow
and snarled in alarm when he came hurling straight at Kohath. Banking
sharply, he knew he'd pass clean beneath him-- and everyone else, too,
and just like that he was out.

Roquath waited. He banked wide, fighting the gusts and biding his time
while others dove for her. What came next he would attribute to sheer
skill, and what E'kavas would call dumb luck; a blast of cold wind
sending him careening out of control and right into Relsath's path.
With a final heave, Roquath twisted towards her, catching her as if
he'd planned it all along.

It was only the bright shine of Hanassath’s hide cutting through the
snow that gave Relsath enough warning to dive away from the bronze’s
attempt to catch her, both pleased at his speed and furious that he’d
thought he could end the chase before she was done, and she twisted
away from him, only to catch a sudden gust of wind under one wing. The
green tumbled for a moment in freefall before catching herself and
straightening and then- caught.

On the ground, Zariah gasped, the sudden disorienting spin almost
enough to overpower the flight lust before Relsath had recovered and
steadied and- the sudden shock of the catch drew something like a
chuckle out of her before she was lost completely to the flight.

X'eri turned away, feeling Kohath's disappointment bitterly. He
couldn't hear the cacophony of sounds as other riders found partners,
or as flightmoths called out rider's names, but there was a pair of
hands, familiar yet _unfamiliar_ in this way, that reached out and
grabbed the front of his shirt. And then he was gone.

Last updated on the April 15th 2025

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A Frosty Flight