[::] -- The Foothills

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Date Posted: 19:31:06 03/06/02 Wed
Author: Mave-Seereth, T'run-Adath, Kilia-Sith, D'rius-Dememnth
Subject: [::]

Her hair was itching the back of her neck, Mave realized she'd have to cut it soon, short really was better during a Pass. Small discomfort. I'll have to deal with it. She squints upwards, searching for Thread clumps that had made their way past the careful gaurd of greens, blues, bronzes, and browns. With a soft "Ahh..." she whirls quickly, sending a blast of flame towards the silver mass. Her lips flick into a satisfied smile, gray eyes finding another and charring that just as smoothly. She looks upwards, finding T'run among the bronzes, and meeting his eyes. His arm seemed to be paining him a little, but he smiled at her. She shrugged, returning her attention to the immediate area, Seereth seems a little bored, her multi-faceted eyes gazing upwards, a little enviously at the greens. Don't feel jealous lovey, they have some fun, but you're the important one. Much more important than they are. ~You're saying greens aren't important?~ No! They are, but without you there would be any greens, see? ~Of course, I know that. But still...They don't have the responsibility.~ OR the honor. Don't worry about it. Mave's fingers loosely hold her falmethrower, and she grits her teeth as a few strands of russet hair fall into her face, she couldn't safely move them, and she didn't have the time. Hopefully they wouldn't get to close to her eyes.

T'run notes Mave's tense face, though he can't really see the cause for it, normally his weyrmate faught Thread easily, it wasn't like her to be that tense. He'd ask her about it after, returning his eyes to the Fall, he shrugs his shoulder, trying to ease the slight pain in his arm. Adath rids them of the need to bother with one clump then another, burning three clumps consecutively, as T'run looks for clumps, he realizes that flamethrowers would perhaps, be a good thing for all colors, not just the golds. A clump comes a bit to close, scoring Adath's shoulders, the bronze goes between, letting the cold freeze the Thread, particles flaking off, and the pain ending. They re-emerge, not realizing that the odd angle of the wind causes the Thread to fall differently, not realizing that Thread is right above them. And then it is too late, all they know is pain. Adath lets out one valiant bugle, sending his love to Seereth in one blast, before blinking forever...

Mave chokes on nothing, her eyes tearing as she realizes what's happened. "Gone..." Seereth's eyes change rapidly, whirling intensely as the realization hits her. Her grip tightens on her flamethrower, as she hits another clump squarely. Her jaw tightens, she's blind to everything but the pain, the coldness. They're gone...

Kilia observes the disappearence of T'run with sadness, her vivid blue eyes had seen the descent of Thread, shaking her head, she returns her attentions to the Fall, time enough later to dwell on departed Weyrleaders, there were more pressing matters at hand. Sith's crooning of loss and respect is uninterupted for a few moment, then Thread is close, and he lets loose a long tongue of flame, saving his fire, Kilia seems to take satisfaction in watching the Thread slowly change, the flames slowly devour it. His lifemate is truly an odd sort at times. I hope Mave survives... ~She will, she is strong.~ Very well then, I hope Seereth survives. ~She is even stronger.~ Oh. Our Weyr will be without a Leader for sometime... ~Many others were. At least we have a Weyrwoman. And a Weyrwoman is infinitely more practical than a Weyrleader.~ Ah...I sometimes wonder about you love. Her red-brown hair is tucked inside her jacket, the silky strands itching her face and neck. She ignores it, glaring fiercely - though slightly contemptously - at the Thread.

As he sees his Weyrleader perish, D'rius shudders. He could imagine the agony that the Thread inflicted. Dememnth sense his worry, pictures his rider's glassy eyes. ~Concentrate! It will be our fate if you don't.~ D'rius breaks out of his stare, casting a disoriented glance around him, before remembering his purpse. The horror eased, though not gone. Dememnth relaxes a bit, he no longer need worry about his rider. To your left, a clump, see it? The bronze angles his head appropriately, destroying the clump, and then another, and another. An endless line of clumps of silver. Beautiful in their terrifying way. Eerie, strange. Otherwordly. Once again he shudders, nervous. Though he'd last the Fall.

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* || * -- Chavala * Sinouth :|: Sh'muel * Lirth, 20:29:29 03/06/02 Wed