From context, I'd say a honeymoon suite. Let's hope they do room service. -- Flight Air

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Date Posted: 03:43:12 04/02/05 Sat
Author: Vitaliath
Subject: From context, I'd say a honeymoon suite. Let's hope they do room service.
In reply to: Hroth 's message, "Well...I'm not sure what's behind that one..." on 03:20:24 04/02/05 Sat

Blind and deaf to her body's rising pleas for air, Vitaliath feels like she could keep going forever, up and up and further still, without anything to stop her or hold her back. Filled with the raw, primal lust of a green in flight, she very nearly does, wings practically whirring against an atmosphere literally too weak to support her. But in the end, it's her rider who betrays her, just barely seperated enough from her raging emotions to realize what ails his bedmate, what his dragon is doing to herself and to Hroth. A sudden hard yank, as if there's a tether to the ground that she's struck the very limit of, and Vitaliath drops into thicker air with a strangled cry of rage. Her eyes fix on Hroth as she plummets towards him, and her teeth clack together inches from his wing as she falls past, a deliberate miss that acknowledges it's his need that held her back from those stars she'd so wanted to fly among. But then she levels out, circling once to stabilize herself as she breathes hard and deep, her body replenishing itself and returning from the brink of near-death that she'd brought it too. And now her gaze on Hroth, looking up at him, is less angry, the fire in her eyes no longer fueled by fury, but rather by desire and crude sexual need, softened by a touch of what almost might be affection. She'd told A'dian once, so long ago, when newly-hatched, that Hroth would be a big brown, a strong one, one worthy of her favors and whose mind meshes almost perfectly with her own in a way quite different from the bond with her rider. Her desire for vengeance spent, her whole mind now on her own satisfaction, she sees that she was right. Big and strong and absolutely perfect, this brown, and hers - Hroth might trumpet posessively at the other males, but it's Vitaliath, dainty green Vitaliath, who is the master here. Not that she'd ever let him know that, when it's so much simpler to keep him in the dark and let him delude himself into compliance with her desires. A deep, throaty cry breaks from her throat, not a bugle but something with more resemblance to a baritone shriek, and she races away, darting and weaving across the night sky, still high above the Weyr, but no longer high enough to break herself or her silly, sweet male. Things are rising to a height, and she can feel her heart hammering in A'dian's chest as passions near their pitch, but it's not quite time, not quite, not yet-

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Replies:

Ooooooh breakfast! -- Hroth, 04:04:28 04/02/05 Sat
- Ah-ah-ah... let's not be hasty, now. No breakfast until we've finished with dessert, and dessert isn't gone until we've used up all the whipped cream. -- Vitaliath, 04:40:06 04/02/05 Sat
  - Kinky! -- Hroth, 11:10:54 04/02/05 Sat