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Date Posted: 23:21:07 08/18/05 Thu
Author: Massath & R'ven
Subject: I take it you're not a Pat Benatar fan? I'd use more current lyrics if I could find a current singer that I liked....
In reply to: S'peer -- Scarth 's message, "Mua-hahah. You can't get rid of me that easily..." on 14:02:35 06/22/05 Wed

((I'm sorry I took so long to post this - my inspiration went walkies, and I didn't realize HOW long it had been. >_< It won't be too much longer, so that other greens [hopefully ones less prone to vanishing on their suitors] can fly.))

So he's going to brave the upper atmosphere. Massath snarls, half in warning and half in challenge. She's far from ready to end this yet, not when it feels so good to lead the blue on, blood pounding in her veins and lust crackling along her nerve endings. The dive may be the height of the flight, but it's not so fantastic that she's willing to give up the preliminaries before she extracts every drop of pleasure from them. On the other hand, as stubborn as he may look, she knows that blue is probably tiring a bit, up here in the thin air. The flight-energy flowing through her enhances as well as invigorates, and she can hear the slight hitches in his breathing. If there was room in her eyes for anything but the violet-red of lust, Massath's would be swirling with a tint of blue-green mischief and amusement. Males chase so hard to catch up, not just keep up, and for most it's because they'd rather it end sooner than later. Silly creatures. The green knows exactly what to do with that. Tucking her legs in tight against her belly and folding her wings tightly against her sides, the green hurtles into a dive, spinning on the axis of tail and neck as she falls, for all the world as if this is her final drop. Her voice rises in a shriek.

And then, halfway down, Massath abruptly spreads her wings, so hard and fast that there's an audible snap when they catch the wind, and races away again - and, just for the added fun of it, in exactly the opposite direction than she'd been moving before the false "dive". She'd like to see a male who wouldn't be fooled by that, at least for a moment. She'd enjoyed it, in much the way that a cat enjoys pretending to saunter away from a mousehole right before the little whiskers poke out and it pounces. Trilling a taunt, the air of cruel laughter about her so palpable that even the most headblind of humans must sense it, she rockets back towards the Weyr. The heights are just ahead, dragons sunning themselves in the late-afternoon rays while their humans attend the Feast below. For the fun of it, she swoops over them, close enough to annoy, though well clear of the golds and bronzes who might take true offense, and dodges neatly around the in-curving end of the Weyr wall to race out over the ocean. Now she begins to rise again, the fight for altitude a bit harder away from the land's thermals, but the extra effort neglible to a green in flight.

R'ven is smirking. It's not a common expression for the greenrider, and something about the number of teeth he's showing make it a smirk only because it's far too unpleasant to be a grin. It's Massath's smirk, not his, but there isn't really much difference this far into the flight. At least he's not snarling at S'peer anymore, though the slightly maniac expression is no more inviting, and there's definitely a threat in it. If S'peer takes this as an invitation to move any closer, he'll likely end up with fingernails digging furrows in his face. And the greenrider's fingernails are very neatly trimmed short to make his carpentry easier, so digging furrows into someone's face with them takes a lot of muscle. Which, one might notice, R'ven has in spades. But mostly, he's smirking unpleasantly.

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