Achthia Stocky as a draft horse, blond as cheap pine, and brown-complexioned as a seaman, Achthia is neither graceful nor pretty. Indeed, with that hatchet face and the swaggering arrogance of her posture, she's fairly assured of rubbing anyone's aesthetic sense the wrong way. Stormy eyes are frankly disbelieving beneath the aristo's-arch of eyebrows, while shoulders' breadth is untouched by her shaggy tresses. 5'9 and solidly muscular, she's the kind of person that looks down her nose no matter how tall the disdainee. Full, brown linen pants, worn to the woof, allow Achthia to strut as she will, matched in hard-use by a faded gray tunic and brownish-black boots. The Hair is contained by a headband, and the billowing folds of the tunic by an ancient belt that may have once been cream-colored. Achthia of Saithdir was born to Meryndar and Tydele, on Gochmawr, one of the large atmonsulae of the first degree. She was the unwedded couple's firstborn, with brother Ibaroch following a couple of Turns later. Shortly after Ibaroch was born, disaster struck. Meryndar, at twenty-eight, was Taken and Enthralled while in the upper atmonsulae. He'd been betrayed by his fei'ikshy 'friend', and enslaved to a ch'meiri raj. She never saw him again. Two years later, however, one Me'dar was reported rescued but wounded. He had been taken prisoner by the ddraivae. The names of thralls were always shortened. Achthia was sure that the Me'dar they spoke of was her father. However, the ddraivi had not killed his ch'meira master. When he awoke, Me'dar tried to escape, and was killed by a keilpeya. Tydele, who had discovered she was pregnant shortly before Me'dar's death, then had the gracelessness to miscarry. Benumbed with grief, she tried to raise the children as best she could, but all the joy was snuffed out of her. Well-meaning elders blamed it on 'those barbaric keilpeyi'. When Achthia was nine, the now-fragile Tydele, once so plumply comely, suffered a stroke that left her profoundly retarded. Her concerned coworkers swooped in and carted Tydele off to her single sister's ministrations, and took Achthia and Ibaroch to a harried foster-mother's care. They were briefly happy there, falling in easily with the other children: eight-year-old Ambrollia, twelve-year-old Shadanin, seventeen-year-old Oiric, five-year-old Isakei, and ten-year-old Veykhanna. These are the happy times that Achthia reminisces over. The happy times ended when Ibaroch turned thirteen. Only a few days after his birthday, the settlement was raided by a group of fei'ikshae for possible bonds for their eggs. Anguished, Achthia considered following and offering herself as hatchling-bait, but decided against it. Her brother was Answered in due course, becoming counterpoint to the fei'ikshy male K-hrannem and female Rrkamney. She was kin to a Singer. Scarcely had she time to feel sorry for herself--poor little Achthia, abandoned and practically orphaned--then she received word that K-hrannem had a severely twisted gut. The missive urged her to come and keep vigil with Ibaroch, since she was his next of kin. Abandoning the tentative offerings of a job with the oreiadae that had always fascinated her, Achthia went. She even steeled herself to fly with a fei'ikshae pair. But they had barely come in sight of the fei'ikshaean cliffs when the Mourners keened their eerie triple note of grief for a dead comrade. Achthia was lost in the resulting confusion for nearly an hour before she could find someone to tell her where Ibaroch was. The fidgety man who began to give her directions was interrupted midway by a sharp-voiced woman. "You can't see Ibaroch, I'm afraid, girl," she said briskly. "He chose to follow the music, and our healer, the keilpeya Temare, let him. He's dead." The grudge was now firmly set. Fei'ikshae had stolen her father and her brother, and keilpeyi had killed them. Achthia mourned intermittently. She tried drinking, and hated it. She attempted to go into string-of-meaningless-relationships mode, and couldn't stand it. Finally she stopped and thought, brooding on the betrayal of the two species. Once the grudge had settled in, Achthia put her heart and soul into her mission-to persuade the poor, unwitting humans and oreiadae of the dangers of those with wings or scales. She did not preach to the ddraivae, for Achthia knew in her heart that the keilpeyi and ddraivae were intertwined, perhaps inexorably. Besides, she hadn't liked them since they had taken her father captive. Achthia had a good following--until she tried to have her way at Alvassair, a town on the edge of a rather large fei?ikshae settlement. Outraged at this sentiment, they told her that she?d obviously been too insulated all her life. A group of ruffians with a rather strong Bard as their leader took exception to her words. Quick as quick, they had her bundled up. The Bard, planning devilment, sent the loudmouth women somewhere far, far away. The group had investigated it only a few days before, and had absorbed the fact that there were fei?ikshae-like creatures there, fighting against enemies that threatened to steal their world from them. There, those creatures were held in high respect. To the fei?ikshae, this appeared to be the perfect place for Achthia to learn a lesson. It only added insult to injury when a nosy, winged and scaleless keilpeya declared that she was to be sand-bait. Achthia was not getting on well with Alskyr. But then, Achthia seldom got on well with anyone or anything. "Can't go outside," she said savagely, yanking on pants and tunic. "Can't go home. Can't trouble these keilpeyi-lovers, oh, no, the riders have to fight some giant bugs. Can't be rid of this flaming rank, can't be rid of the flaming beasts!" She snatched up her ancient wooden comb, and began to rip through the knots at the base of her skull, hissing as the strands were torn out. Three teeth snapped off in the tangled hair. Snarling, Achthia flung the comb across the dorms, twisted the hair up into a knot, and pinned it down until it bristled with loops of metal. "And fei'ikshae!" she muttered more quietly, pulling on her socks and stuffing her long feet into the battered black-brown boots. "There's a conspiracy among these ashy featherheads, whatever you call them. How dare they throw me to their wretched parasitic kin? Gryphons!" Stomping out the door, she nearly ran into what appeared to be a wall of dull-teal hide, formed over visible muscles. Stomach muscles. Lips compressed tightly--but eyes wide in the grip of unreasoning panic--Achthia looked up. Two pairs of shoulders, four bandaged sets of unimaginably elongated finger-bones, and quite a lot of chest later, her gray eyes found the creature's head. Most of what she could see was spiky, or part of the enormous, wickedly hooked beak that that...thing used as a mouth, but the shape of its head showed where its eyes should be, and it had none. Iridescent skin ran across the depressions instead. "Fa...leith," she whispered, an oreiadae oath. Her anger was dampened by amazement. "What are you?" She didn't expect it to answer, or even to be able to speak. Its beak opened several seconds before it said anything. "A Llais," it replied in her own tongue, though its words were heavily accented. The creature's voice was higher than a boy's treble, strong, though quiet. It sounded ridiculous coming from that great huge chest... "My name is Eraill," it said softly. "Your pardon, dragonrider. I know I block the halls--" Achthia's rage surged up again, and she said, sharply, "I'm not a dragonrider!" She couldn't read any expression on its face, without eyes or lips to give away the quirks of its moods, and she backed away a little as she realized how combative that sounded. This...Llais...was huge! "Apology...I am sorry," it stumbled. "Faleith is not your dragon?" She slithered out and padded as quietly as she could away from the bizarre, hulking beast. "Faleith was a cursed creature." A betrayer, just like the fei'ikshae; a murderer, just like the keilpeyi. Achthia could have sworn that there was a look of utter bewilderment on the Llais's face, despite its lack of expressive facial features, as she hurried away. The eggs were hatching. They had been hatching for a very long time. Achthia had watched with bitter incredulity as people--and not-people--from all walks of life had rushed up to the newly-hatched dragonets as if they were long-lost true loves or something. Even the freakish Eraill--they made it a flaming candidate, she thought with disbelief--had been Answered, or Impressed, as they called it here. Its dragon was nearly as warped as it was, headknob-less and seemingly destined to be the only slate-colored abomination on any Sands. The light and noise of the hatching galled her. All the Impressed had left the noisy, sand-filled cromlech--no, they were called dunes here--and Achthia supposed that she could leave now. She wasn't going to be chosen by any winged parasite. Stamping irritably out of the Dunes, she met the cooler, darker air outside. There was nobody there, for now, but the peace did not soothe her. The glorious stars, shining palely through the twilight, were as alien as Eraill. The silhouettes of dragons and gryphons made her clench her fists with rage and shame and an unwilling, unrelenting grief. Must her life always have echoes of these bedamned creatures? The lower atmonsulae back home were bad enough, but this horror of a place was intolerable. There was no way of escaping those miserable creatures--less then there would have been at home. Giant ants and rampage plants and a thousand other dangers barred any thought of flight. And gryphons! Magic-wielding, long-taloned, smart-mouthed, prissy, arrogant mixups as big as haycarts! Even the fei'ikshae didn't have powers like their distant cousins, pyrotechnics and elemental control. And these creatures did not have the long-legged charm of fei'ikshae...they were larger, blockier, and graceless, to her eyes. Do you think that you could stop being so angry for just a moment and come to me? a voice grated with some asperity, a fierce, strong baritone that took Achthia aback. I am stuck, it said, impatient, while she looked around wildly. Blame Diamoth for that. She is my mother. I am Cahnath. Unless you do not want me to be. I would just as soon not be with someone who thinks I will bring death... Achthia's head snapped around, sending a shower of hairpins to the ground as her tangled hair tumbled down on her neck and in her eyes. Wildly, she brushed it away, seeing that last shining oval of shell, half-buried in the sand. She couldn't think, the urgency of that voice--Cahnath's voice--was so great. Bolting back to the dune, she threw herself down beside the egg, flinging sand and broken shell away as if possessed. The remaining candidates protested as she sprayed them with great handfuls of the stuff. At last, she found the owner of the voice. Cahnath. A brown...dragon. He was a dark, dark brown, like overboiled coffee, but that didn't seem to register. All that she could find, all that she could feel, was an overwhelming sense of ease, and a jolt of satisfaction, followed by a pounding joy. Red-gold jewels of eyes shifted on the spectrum. Greeny-blue shattered her brief, habitual horror, battered back her panic. A proud consciousness, as fierce as the voice, clicked into place in her awareness, and Achthia blinked and stared, her hand on her lifemate's damp shoulder. I was right...You are for me. Angry though you are. We can show people something new, something outside of death, can't we? The driving urgency of Cahnath's voice filled to brimming that hollow, hate-filled space left by Meryndar and Ibaroch. "We can, Cahnath...We can!" she cried, that thought firmly in her mind as she rose. Vaguely, she knew that someone was trying to lead her and this impossible brown dragonet off the Dunes. Her chin went out. Her lips flattened and whitened. "Let go! I can walk, for pity's sake!" But not for long. How much will you want to walk when you can fly? Cahnath's fledging was fast and furious. Indeed, Achthia and her lifemate seemed to inspire quite a lot of fury in their circle of acquaintances. At very least, the pair was irritating; at most, intolerable. This was fine with Achthia; she found other people to be just as aggravating as they found her. Cahnath, sharp-tongued, stubborn, and opinionated, though more altruistic than his bond, won no prizes for popularity either. Achthia didn't know where she was going, though she was graduating high in her class. Cahnath was primed for action. She didn't much like Alskyr, but she couldn't go back to Auroch with a fire-breathing dragon. You couldn't fight fire with fire... And some of the people here had the most outlandish ideas about those who bonded opposite genders. But as the ceremony ended and the participants began to wander away, someone caught her arm. Achthia winced--the hand closed like a steel clamp on her biceps--and turned, gray eyes already stormy. It was a woman, something like a ddraivi but scaleless, tall and proud and wild-looking, with dark stripes in her brown hair and on her golden face. "Pardon me," the elf husked, "but you aren't planning on staying here, are you? I don't see your name on the wing-list, and you look...lost." Achthia, ready to loose a tide of abuse, deflated. "No," she said sharply. "No, I'm not staying. Why?" The not-ddraivi grinned, a feral and dragonish grin that was startling on so fine-boned a face. "I am Efellai of the Moire Protectorate on Lao Daemia. We are...recruiting, I suppose you'd say. Would you be interested?" "Another war?" Achthia snorted. "Why should I be? How are you different from anyone else?" Efellai smiled a little wider. "Because we can offer you the world. We are not so large, now. We have need of capable leaders. There are positions of power--with plenty of pay attached--waiting for people to fill them." The rider scowled. Cahnath? All true, 'Thia, the brown said dryly. Distrustful wench, aren't you? There's a dragon here who is giving me the same run-around. I didn't ask you your opinion on my question, she muttered mentally. Do you, or don't you want to go? He snickered rudely, and rumbled back, I do. We won't find an offer like this just anywhere, and Faleith knows you've made enough enemies here. Besides, it sounds like fun. Achthia returned her attention to the elf-woman. "What's the world like?" She was stuck for it, but she could at least appear to be less of a pushover. "Beautiful. Anything goes," Efellai said succinctly. "Lao Daemia is a most unusual world." With a sigh, Achthia extended her hand. "Very well. Consider me part of the team, then." The elf looked at the extended hand, wrinkling her nose, and then took it gingerly. She shook it twice, and then dropped it, wiping her hand on her leggings. "Welcome aboard, rider. C'mon, we leave right away. There's nobody else here who's a good choice, or likely to be willing. Call the big brown, and we'll go." "Achthia," the girl muttered, calling Cahnath over. "Not rider. Achthia." "You call six dragoners a world?" Achthia bellowed, eyes flashing. "That's not even a bloody flight of fei'ikshae!" Efellai shook her hair out of her eyes. "It will grow. We have a long, long time to rebuild the dragon population here. And I'm still looking for more pairs willing to be pioneers." Her smile showed entirely too much canine. "We have Uthnath and ?rth, Tilimeth and Damselth, Deiseath and Arabicath. We will have many more. And you, Achthia a'Cahnath, shall be our first coronal. You shall lead Belethnil's Hand." Efellai--the leader of this place, Achthia had discovered--stalked gracefully away before Acthia could do more than sputter. "Can you believe that? I can't believe I did that. I shook on the stupid deal. We're going to be trapped in this backwater for eternity!" she snarled at Cahnath. "Look at this place! It's like some artist's rendering of a fantasy world! Black towers, elves, 'portals' and 'shadow-walking'." She glared at the tall tower that housed their quarters. "This scale is just...ridiculous! Nothing should be able to be this tall." Cahnath shrugged, a ripple across his coffee-dark shoulders. He was too large on Achthia's scale too. We are leaders. And there will be more dragons. It's not such a bad deal, 'Thia. "Don't call me that!" It had been three years since Achthia had come to Moire on Lao Daemia. She had to admit that the project was shaping up. There were now over thirty dragon-and-rider pairs at Moire, and they were flourishing. Belethnil's Hand had expanded so that she actually had a decent group of 'troopers' at her command. Cahnath was restless. Let's go world-hopping, he said, not so much suggesting as commanding. I wish to do something besides drill. Achthia shrugged. "As long as we aren't gone too long. I don't want to leave the Hand in Razi's command long. Sme and Arbegarth simply don't respect them, and I can't muscle Sme when I'm not here." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't tell me you haven't been defeated often enough. Navinth's flight, and Fuetreeth's..." I almost won. They just wanted different suitors. Haughty, the both of them. I want to go far away, this time. A new world. Achthia frowned. "Far away? If you mean unheard-of, m'lad, than perhaps Icarus will do? They've got creatures there like keilpeyi, like dragons...but different. We should check it out." Yes, Icarus... Icarus should be an adventure. "Look at her," Cahnath 'whispered', bending his head close to Achthia's ear. "Is she wonderful or what?" Achthia had to admit that the furry blue-green 'drak' was elegant. And the fact that Cahnath had made the effort to project sound instead of speaking telepathically--polite, here where the draks spoke like people--spoke volumes. "You fancy her?" "Her name is Valeiski. She's so lovely...and her personality! She's smart, but she's also soft-spoken. Not like anyone in our Hand." Smirking, Achthia patted his shoulder. "What, Chareth and Shibboleth getting on your nerves? Don't worry, you big lump, you've got endearing traits of your own." "And I'm not afraid to use them," Cahnath muttered. He eyed Valeiksi, whose head was cocked in a 'listening' pose, mournfully. "Is she eavesdropping? Achthia, please tell me she wasn't eavesdropping..." "What, are you afraid to be caught complimenting her? Go on, silly. I never thought I'd see the day that the mighty Cahnath would be shy." Gingerly, the dragon stepped over to the lovely water drak. Achthia couldn't hear their conversation from where she stood. When she moved, however, it was toward Mi'ihen Castle. There should be someone hanging around that she could ask about interspecies mating... Cahnath had won his water-colored beauty, and had several glorious children, as yet in the egg. He didn't seem to care that none of them would resemble him physically--they had been told that Icarian draks had dominant genes. As he told Achthia, quite firmly, it was not his planet, and it was only right that his children fit their place of birth. Achthia privately thought that the world could have used dragons draks with Cahnath's physical features. He was a handsome specimen, and a definite individualist. She could lay claim to the latter, but she had never had the advantage of good looks. But for now, she was at Kjanli'eyr. As Coronal, she had a responsibility to her people to scout out all the best methods of training and fighting. Kjanli'eyr was new, and would have new ideas. Besides, Achthia was very tired of watching Valeiski fuss with the eggs, and Cahnath was fiercely protective of his new mate. "Can't say a word about his precious drak. They're not even of the same species!" she muttered to herself. "It'll never last." "What wouldn't last?" asked a rather arrogant voice in her head. The brownrider turned and cocked an eyebrow, craning her neck to see who had spoken. "Faleith, but you're big," she remarked dryly. "Do you always go around butting into other people's conversations?" The big bronze curvetted neatly so that he was watching her over his brawny shoulder. "Only the interesting ones," he replied, his tone pert. "So what's going on?" Both eyebrows went up. "Aren't you being a bit forward? After all, we don't even know each other's names." "Mine is Vriendinth," he said, unfazed. "Son of Ariath and Tskarth. And who might you be, pretty lady?" By now, Achthia's eyebrows were nearly embedded in her hairline. "Coronal Achthia of Moire." Her tone was credulous at best. Vriendinth eyed her appraisingly, his enormous eyes shifting minutely in their sockets as he sized her up. "A fitting name for a warrior. The name of Achthia has a bite and snap to it that suits your proud bearing, Lady Coronal." She actually laughed. Laughed until the tears ran down her face, and some of the tension went out of her shoulders. "Bite and snap, is it? Faleith, but you're a card, Vriendinth." His tail lashed in pleasure. If ever a dragon face could show smug self-satisfaction, Vriendinth's did. "I live to serve. Now about whatever-it-is lasting..." One browridge shifted as Achthia smothered more laughter. It wasn't often one saw a bronze wheedling... "Eh, an interspecies liaison. The male member of which is absolutely doting on his new mate," Achthia granted him, still smiling a little. "Ah, young love," Vriendinth, self-claimed expert, brushed the subject away. "So tell me a little more about yourself, beautiful. What does a coronal do? Where are you from? Do you come here often?" She shook her pine-blond head at his blandishments. "No, this is my first time at Kjanli. It's quite a lovely place." She tilted her head to look at him better; the bronze immediately sank down to his belly, and rested his head on his foreclaws. "Do go on, and forgive me for being so rude," Vriendinth murmured. Achthia smiled again. This had to be a record. "Well, a Coronal is in charge of a Hand, which is a whole bunch of dragons. They're organized into much smaller groups called 'Talons', which have their own leaders. I lead my own talon, and the rest of the Hand." "I've always had a thing for powerful women," the bronze said in an undertone, but he lay still. "As for where I'm from...well, I hail from a world called Auroch. There's land that floats in the sky there. The highest islands are ruled by flaming immortals called ch'meiri. We have creatures that are kind of like dragons; for a while, I thought you were a subspecies. But they live in the water, have no wings, and are scaled." Glimmering eyes watched her steadily. "Tell me more." Before she knew it, she was spilling the tale of her father and brother's demise. Vriendinth listened intently, head cocked to one side, and never said a word. Achthia didn't cry--hadn't cried in earnest since the news that her father was dead--but her throat got very tight as the story wound to a close. "Your pardon," she said, after a long pause. "You scarcely know me; I should not have burdened you with my sorrows." Vriendinth drew back his lips in a smile. "I feel as though I have known you all my life," he said huskily. "What a story you have to tell! I am honored that you have trusted me with it." "It needed to be told." The brownrider looked at the sun and flinched. "Ah, drat it, I'm late for my meeting! If you will excuse me, Vriendinth..." The dragon, who had the air of someone about to ask a delicate question, nodded. "But of course. Will you be back soon? It has been delightful talking to you." "Certainly," she said, smiling again before she caught herself. What was it about this dragon that so tickled her fancy? The meeting was long and very intense. Achthia dragged out of it long after the sun had set. She felt as though she'd been beaten; her back ached from sitting too straight on a backless stool. Damnfool choice of seats... "You came!" a joyous baritone said behind her, making her jump. "Vriendinth?" she said blearily. "Great falling aensulae, are you still waiting?" He appeared out of the dark, a titanic figure, shining golden bronze in the lights Kjanli kept on the Bowl at night. "For you, dear Achthia, I would stay wakeful for years." As she laughed delightedly, he gave her a very toothy grin. "Will you come to Analyn's office with me? I've something important I need to tell her, and it?d be grand to have a two-foot with me." Achthia blinked gray eyes and, after a thoughtful moment, shrugged. "If you?d like me to come, I?m sure I can manage it. Will you be long?" "I hope not," Vriendinth muttered. "Come, it?s this way." It took a while to actually find Analyn and convince her to come out, but once they were both standing in her presence, Vriendinth made a noise like throat-clearing, and bent his neck to be on the same level as the two humanoids. "Eyrlass, I would like it to be noted that I, Vriendinth, am choosing my bond this day. Her name is Achthia." One rainbowed eye swiveled hopefully toward the brownrider. "Will you have me, Achthia?" "I...oh...Vriendinth!" she sputtered, suddenly wide awake. "I...have a bond already. A brown. His name is Cahnath." The bronze looked momentarily startled, but then his bearing was as confident as ever. "So? You'll be one of the first with two bonds, then. I don?t mind sharing. After all, a wonderful woman like you is bound to have attracted some fans along the way. What do you say?" Achthia looked at Analyn, who shrugged helplessly and made little go-ahead motions The bronze stood there, as self-confident as she had ever been. That brave sight decided her, and the stocky Coronal threw up her hands. "If you want me, Vriendinth, who am I to argue?" You?re my rider, of course, the bronze purred in her head. "Cahnath's not going to like this, Vriendinth," she said, but she couldn?t sound truly severe. That marvelous rush of thoughts and emotions, of another consciousness, had just entered her head, and the double-rider could not keep from grinning. "He'll love me," Vriendinth claimed. He bowed deeply to Analyn, and then snatched Achthia from where she stood. As gently as any new father, the bronze cradled her to his chest, and leapt into the air. "Farewell, Kjanli!" "You what?" Achthia did not flinch, but stood straight and tall between the two dragons. Even the furiously lashing tail of Cahnath didn?t faze her. "I went to Lao Daemia, and bonded another dragon. He chose me, Cahnath. I still adore you, and I am still your bond. Don't be selfish, please. This is Vriendinth, your new brother." The brazen bronze was looking particularly full of himself that day. He took little heed of the smaller dragon?s smoldering glare. "Good morning, Cahnath! I hear you're shortly to become a father. Are these your eggs?" "Yes," said Cahnath, not as sharply as he might have. He was very proud of his unborn children, and it showed. "I'm sure with your looks, they will grow to be handsome and strong. Fighting dragons, to be sure!" Vriendinth exclaimed. As Cahnath's body language gained amicability, the bronze continued to talk to him in that conniving manner of his. After about half an hour, even Cahnath was grudgingly charmed by this new partner, and he allowed that Achthia might, perhaps, be permitted to keep him. "Cahnath, my love, I don't believe all of Belethnil's Hand could get rid of Vri', so I'm glad you feel that way. Come here, you big brown lunk." He dipped his head reluctantly, and Achthia threw an arm over as much of his neck as she could manage. "You're a special dragon, Cahnath, and you always will be. I'm not moving on, and I'm not getting rid of you. But Vriendinth needs a home too, okay? And I really like him. Will you help him feel at home?" "All right," Cahnath muttered. "All right, he can have a trial run. I can't exactly do anything about him, not and keep you." "Right," Achthia said briskly. "Thank you, Cahnath. You've been more than fair." She patted his neck. "Don't you have a mate that's waiting for you?" "Valeiski!" the brown exclaimed, and he loped off, his graceful stride no longer jerky with tension. "I love you too," Vriendinth said unexpectedly in her ear. She raised an eyebrow at him, grinned, and winked. "I know." For details on Vriendinth and Cahnath's first flight together, check out Anraleil's page. But her two boys had no intention of leaving her to stew. They’d gotten a little more competitive, too; all that testosterone had brought up the old rivalry, and they were sniping at each other without mercy. ”I say I will catch her!” Cahnath insisted testily, tail lashing. Vriendinth scoffed. “Will not. You’re a dull, unimaginative, staminaless brown. You’re boring. No, I shall be the one to catch her. I’m handsome and charming, big enough to catch her properly, and an exciting and wonderful person.” ”Why would she want an egomaniac like you?” Cahnath countered hotly. If he’d had fur, his hackles would have been bristling from crest to tail. “I’m the calmest and most stable of the bunch. Haeriyaan’s all enigmatic, you’re insufferable, Siroc is crazy and downright nasty to boot, and that Dainvoi—huh!” He arched his own elegant neck, letting the light play off his cinnamon-and-mahogany hide. “Besides, you’re sallow, Dainvoi’s weird, and the other two will burn her eyes out.” “Sallow!” Vriendinth roared, outraged. He barely flinched when Achthia came stomping toward them. “Do you know what time it is?” she hissed. “Do you two buffoons realize that you’re waking up the whole Nidus?” “Sorry,” they muttered in a sort of sullen tocatta. They sounded anything but repentant. Achthia glowered, running a hand through her tousled blond hair. She looked rather like a malevolent battleaxe. “So, while your hormones are still obviously speaking for you, who is it that’s inspiring them?” ”Ruoal’Shon,” they said in unison, glaring daggers at each other. Achthia sighed. “She’s going to eat you both.” ”But him first,” Vriendinth muttered. Before Cahnath could snarl back, the Aurochi rider gave them both a mental shake. “If you must give chase to get this out of your system, kindly remember that Ruoal’Shon will probably leave both of your testosterone-enhanced behinds in the dust. She was an alpha before she bonded, and she is not likely to appreciate squabbling twits such as yourselves. Nor is she likely to be impressed by all this posturing! I will sign you up, to my personal detriment and despite my misgivings, if you two will swear to knock it OFF. This is quite, quite ridiculous.” ”Fine.” ”Fine.” There was momentary peace in Achthia’s head. It gave her the leisure to notice her headache. Wondering how long the blessed silence would last, she tromped her way across the Bowl to the flight boards. If this was the only way to get some peace and quiet, so be it. Achthia adopted bronze Vriendinth from Kjanli'eyr. Achthia Impressed brown Cahnath at Alabaster Weyrhold, which is now closed except for the occasional special clutch. Achthia, Cahnath, and Vriendinth are partners in the service of Moire Protectorate on Lao Daemia. As Coronal, Achthia and Cahnath lead Belethnil's Hand, as well as Dimcraben Talon. Vriendinth leads Pellacir Talon in Belethnil's Hand, continuing the tradition of excellence enjoyed by this partnership. This background was made by me, Efellai. 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