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Date Posted: 04:20:21 08/27/05 Sat
Author: S'peer -- Scarth
Subject: Wish I could say I knew who that was...alas...
In reply to: DS 's message, "Sorry. Font kills." on 21:13:15 08/26/05 Fri

Upstart little GIT!

A fierce growl emerged from both Scarth and S’peer at the sight of Abeoth climbing through the sky to Massath. How DARE this…this hatchling attempt to best them? Scarth’s immediate trumpet of challenge echoed through the air, a fierce warning to the younger blue. How could a first-timer even think he was better than him? If he caught Massath, it would surely be by a fluke only…but then his attention was snapped back to the flight by instincts far older than he himself. He followed the green unthinkingly downwards, dropping after her with his wings folded to his sides. He trusted his body – with the stimulation of flight-lust it would respond before he could come to harm – but not everything can be predicted.

He saw Massath’s wings begin to spread on her way down…but he was still left hanging in the sky for a few scant moments after she had streaked away – and her direction came as yet another surprise. But he wasn’t going to leave it too long: he did have to show this young one how it was done, after all, and he was hard on her heels again within seconds. But complacency wasn’t allowed. In a flight, seconds could be crucial to winning or loosing…greens don’t put up with shoddy performance, after all. A bugle answered her taunt with Scarth’s deeper sound, but he wasted no more time with making sounds, apart from the constant hum deep in his chest. It was probably visible to those on the ground (apart from the clue of Scarth’s larger size and adult proportions when compared to Abeoth) who was the older, more experienced male. But experience only got you so far, Scarth would concede. Abeoth had age on his side, and the increased agility of a smaller, younger dragon. After all, the first flight is often where you try the hardest…and the other blue had arrived late. He hadn’t exerted himself as Scarth had, so he had more breath to use.

So the blue shot after Massath, focusing on the tip of her tail in front of him, mirroring her movements with his own body and wings. Scarth may have been older than Abeoth, but he was not old enough to have reached his prime, let alone have passed it and be too old to win a flight. The sun warmed his muscles, loosening them slightly to make it that bit easier – but he was tiring just a little, his breath hitching when he inhaled. As he going to let this get the better of him? Of course not!

S’peer raised his head slightly to meet R’ven’s smirk with a wolfish smile of his own - he knew a challenge when he saw one. He’d been in enough flights to know. No attempt to move was made – he wasn’t sure if he could move his legs at all at this stage, and nor did he want to: since when does a dragon have use for walking when he’s flying? The taller, darker man snarled at S’kil, but his eyes never left R’ven…he couldn’t let him get away now, could he?

((Yep, he was, and still is. I’m pretty sure a blue can fly more than once!))

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