Flying Time

Writers: Rochelle
Date Posted: 2nd June 2008

Characters: Eleada
Description: Eleada muses a little during Threadfall.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 18 of Turn 4

If there was one thing Eleada and Gliorith loved, it was flying. The freedom, the exhilaration, the feeling of the wind on their face and tearing through the riding leathers as they performed impossible maneuvers. The green was small and agile, and completely fearless in the air, allowing her to perform tricks that larger dragons, even other greens could not do. Eleada was her perfect match, trusting her completely no matter what trick she performed her own reckless streak showing through on their casual flights together just for the sake of flying when she actually encouraged the green to attempt tricks that would have given her old Weyrlingmaster a heart attack.

Turns ago, before Thread, they had been part of a wing that earned pretty good marks in the north as stunt riders for gathers, and Eleada had always volunteered to be the falling rider being 'rescued' by the other riders, knowing that if they missed she wouldn't fall more than ten feet before her speedy green swooped underneath her. The landing would be hard, but Gliorith would be /between/ and gliding into a landing before Eleada would even have a chance to reach for the straps -and well before she had a chance to consider rolling off. Now they rarely had a chance to fly at all outside of Thread, what with her new duties as a Wingthird with the arrival of Thread.

She wondered sometimes if it was Gliorith's gift for flight or her natural recklessness that lent her a sixth sense and the ability to intervene when the other riders in her wing were about to do something stupid.

}:More!:{ Gliorith demanded, throwing her head back for more firestone.

Eleada tossed the rocks immediately, watching their airspace carefully and giving the command to skip /between/ twice as the green chewed.

Thread was falling loosely today, individual strands flying about in the wind like scraps of silver yarn, light and unpredictable in the crosswinds coming the south and west. They were flying the second half of Fall, and she could tell from the number of minor -some probably not even noticed yet- 'scores in the wings around her that her reinforcements were welcome. Clumps were so much easier. Strands like this that blew around went everywhere unpredictably, exhausting the dragons chasing the strands that escaped and expending more flame on less Thread.

Gliorith dove, flaming a pair of strands that had tangled together in the air when they skipped, and Eleada found herself cursing aloud as she spotted a blue in the wing above her fail to avoid a strand that pierced it's wing. With a shriek of pain the blue went between, and Eleada noticed the hole that had just formed in the formation above them was not being filled immediately.

She'd noticed that there were a slightly larger than usual number of dragons in the weyrbowl before she took off, although not many were dangerous injuries. Just serious enough to get them out of action. She probably should have led the switchover a little earlier, but then she would have just worn out the blues and greens in her half of the Fall...

"Cewintith, take the right!" She shouted, punching her fist in the direction of the gap as Gliorith relayed the same order even as she thought it, bellowing her anger as she soared almost directly upwards to flame another strand. Eleada squinted as the sun went into her eyes, made a quick decision, and called for more firestone. The sacks would be empty quickly, no matter how well Gliorith conserved her flame. There were just too many individual strands to be chased down.

Gliorith did an abrupt and complicated maneuver that forced the straps to squeeze Eleada almost in half and had Gliorith quite literally standing on a wingtip for a moment.

Yes, it was probably a good thing she and Gliorith liked flying so much. A normal rider would have panicked just now when the Thread strand fell just inches from her helmet, or would have skipped. She reflected. Noting the trajectory of the strand, she shouted a warning to the rider below her, and continued to scan the sky as Gliorith returned to an upright position.

Seeing the weyrling arrive, she deftly caught the bags and released the string to let the empty ones fall, watching the greenrider swoop beneath her to catch them.

There wasn't really a lot of difference between being a regular wingrider and a wingthird in Fall, she reflected briefly. As a wingrider she had still looked out for her wingmates, still fought Thread and flew half the fall. The real difference came when she shouted. As a wingrider they had been warnings, cheers. As a wingthird, her shouts automatically became commands.

Either way, she thought with relief as she gave Gliorith more firestone, there wasn't a lot of time to reflect on her life in a Fall. No time to think about her crumbling live life, or worry about her children or duties to the wing. No time for anything but reactions, to Thread, to her wingriders, to her dragon's demands for more firestone.

No time for any thoughts not related to fighting.

But plenty of flying time.

Last updated on the June 7th 2008

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Flying Time