He was so close, yet the crimson put on a burst of speed and prevented him from gaining any ground. Osieth wasn't going to give up just yet. He hissed at the nearest males, and even took a snap at Reciproth.
Only the best will do for you Mornhavonth. Osieth was poised, like a tunnel snake waiting to strike.
Numbers to match: 6, 12, 10, 15, 2 Speed: 3d20 (If you don't want to do any more rolls then have Morn pick in a way that makes sense for her.)
A light rumble rolled up Ahkerath's throat into a croon as he chased after Mornhavonth. This was his kind of flight now. Mornhavonth wanted fast and he would give it to her. Looked like having hung back might just work in his favour. The blue shot after the crimson with renewed hope. He wasn't at the front of the cluster of suitors, but there was always a chance for the daring. Faint heart never won fair lady and he couldn't give up now. How foolish he'd been to even consider letting Mornhavonth go on without him pursuing her to the very end. The blue let out an excited trill as the group flew on. This was fun.
Rider: L'rin Dragon: Blue Ahkerath Dragon's Size/Build: Small/Above Average Dice: Strength: 1d20 +1 Speed: 4d20 Toughness: 1d20 +2
It was nearing the end, and the time to choose was at hand. Mornhavonth swooped around in a circular motion and surveyed her suitors before diving in at one of the front runners - the brown. That he had kept up despite the faster, more agile fliers in the sky, that he was ballsy and brassy and tough, that was what she was looking for.
She sent a mental wink to Leszyth and Reciproth. They had promise, and she hoped to see them again.
But for now...
she purred to Osieth, recieving his claws in hers...
((I think I've gone over time on this, and your time is precious... to me too. Thank you for joining this. Next flight, I'll be on top of things.))
...
Weeks passed and there was no clutch, no sign of being gravid. Vesresh, for his part, was disappointed. He had been hoping his dragon would clutch, that her... their... shared ambitions would finally be realized.
Mornhavonth, however, saw no issue with her lack of a clutch. Each flight, clutch or not, was a census of the available males of the weyr, a sense for who would be the most acceptable to fly her when she next rose, out of those who would chase a Crimson.
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