((Since they're wingmates, I thought I'd post them together. ^_^ Okay, that's all the new threads for Thread I'm posting today. <_< I should give other people a chance. >_>))



Maaikith awoke with a start.

/I am not strong enough,/ the blue declared abruptly as Tello too rolled out of bed, her hair a mess as she slicked it down liberally with lotion, regardless of how nasty it was. She would wash it later, but for now it had to fit under her cap as she clipped most of it down and slid her helmut over it. She was dressed quickly, and she double checked her own straps before she took several long strides to the ledge where Maaikith stood, wings spread and arms carefully positioned as Tello tightened his straps for Threadfall instead of sleep and casual riding.

"Dammit, what in Pern is going on with sharding Thread!? We should have more warning!" Tello was shouting, her mind frantic as her body struggled to catch up with her, struggled to wake up like her mind already had. "Move your wing up!" she demanded.

Had it been under any other situation, Maaikith would have cringed, hurt by her tone. Instead, he was shot with thrill at his Rider's shared hatred of the spore, Maaikith's instincts taking over as his lack of confidence melted away. In fact, confidence had nothing to do with Maaikith then, the blue simply was. He was a dragon, and dragons fought Thread. That was simply how it was.

Tello finished sorting him out and mounted quickly, not yet strapping herself down as they winged down to the bowl to meet with her Wing, gathering Firestone quickly. She almost dumped the bag to feet Maaikith the phosphorus stone. The blue belched a test flame high in the air above the humans' and other dragons' heads, and Tello quickly "refueled" him. Before long, they were in the air, darting through, their agility as the smallest blue and one of the lithest riders obvious as they found their places in their Wing.



/I am not so tired any longer!/ Anahirath said with as much of a start as many dragons of the Weyr, his head shooting up as B'rodan, who was already up, quickly perched Broadwill again. He had been expecting this this morning. He recognized the signs from all his turns of Caravaning, and his nearly three at Libertas Weyr. It was that combination, that experience with knowing when to hide, that extra vigilance that was needed when you were technically Holdless... His family would be safe. They knew what to do when the sky was questionable so early in the morning.

He knew what to do when they sky was so questionable in the morning. Many Riders did, but B'rodan was always prepared. Always. Anahirath's straps did not need more than the briefest check, they were snug and tight, and he was already in his Riding pants. It did not take long to also don his shirt, jacket and helmut. The adrenaline in his blood wanted him to vault flawlessly onto his platinum's back as if Anahirath were but a runnerbeast or a warhound or a wher, but that would not happen with a beast as large as his.

He clambered on, his muscles aching for a fist fight, though he would not be using them in such a way today.

Fly, Ana!

They too winged down to the 'bowl and collected Firestone. The young platinum's flame was strong as they lifted into the air.

/Thread will be destroyed!/ the platinum declared, his voice icy, violent, cutting. B'rodan involuntarily shuddered at his lifemate's tone of voice, the freezing sharpness that told B'rodan that Anahirath was a magnificent Threadfighter who would be able to last the whole Flight, though smaller dragons might have to drop out. Yes, Anahirath would be able to last the whole Fall, and then some, the young Rider thought.

All they had to fear were the tight turns and difficult maneuvers required of a Fall. Anahirath's wings simply weren't the sort built for quick movements. They would defy these odds, they decided with one mind, as Anahirath's flame engulfed a twisting, tangled clump of Thread.

Mysaoth roared a call out over the Weyr, his wings spreading wide as his jaws opened. His claws gripped hard into the stone, and as his call died he pushed from the stone with shattering force, his wings angled sharply to bring him quickly down to the ground with the force of a launched rocket. He landed heavily next to a blank wall, looking down with brilliant red eyes at his rider.

R'nianon was prepared. He'd taken to being prepared lately wherever he was. He barely took the time to sheath his practice blades before picking up his riding jacket and quickly scooping up the straps waiting just next to them. Mysaoth ducked as his rider slipped them over his head, and stood still as they were tightened around him. Panting slightly from his exercise and the growing stream of adrenaline in his system, R'nianon went back for his helmet, pulling it on as he took a short running start to jump up to Mysaoth's shoulders.

As the dragon made his short glide to the wing staging area, R'nianon zipped and buttoned his jacket, his face assuming a strangely feral hunger. A rather frightening war face you wouldn't really expect on the normally even-faced young weyrleader. He jumped down as Mysaoth landed, quickly moving over to the firestone sacks. Economic as ever, he tossed rocks to Mysaoth in between securing two sacks to the fighting straps, so that by the time flame started tickling Mysaoth's nose, they were ready and raring to go, R'nianon already sitting strapped up on the dragon's back.

He looked quickly at T'sova for instruction, then down the lines of the wing to make sure they were all present and prepared. At last the signal was given, and they went to face their enemy.

The wings burst from between, fire ready to work and the thread ready for its feast.

Ser'no gasped and sat upright in bed, startled at the sudden voice shouting in his head. After a moment of remembering where and who he was, he sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. Thread again? What a drag.

Krishnath was much of the same opinion, but she approached the ordeal with less disdain than Ser'no did. // Come on, then! Get up, get dressed. I will not have us late because of you, // she ordered him, some instinctive military command making her sweet voice harsh and sharp. If anything was going to get Ser'no going, it was that. As she paced restlessly at her ledge, looking out at the world with burning red eyes, she kept up an encouraging litany for Ser'no to rush to. // This is what we trained for, Ser'no. This is what we were bred for. We will fight today, and we will come away victorious. We will show the entire Weyr that we can fight just like the rest of them. Better. // She stopped and turned as Ser'no appeared and started setting up her straps. // We'll show them that I'm not just something pretty. I'm not to be trifled with. And neither is my dear rider. //

He smiled with pride and a new enthusiastic feral hunger, his normal tastes altered slightly toward destroying thread, at least for a while. With a quick jump, he made it up to Krishnath's shoulders, and the black turned quickly and dived from her perch, landing gracefully exactly in her place in the wing. An obliging weyrling quickly came forward and hefted a back of 'stone up to the rider, who got it secured then quickly tossed some pieces to his waiting dragon. Soon enough, they too were ready, and a bit more on time than they might have expected. They turned with dark determination to their Wingleader, matching expression on their faces.

And then they went to fight their enemy.

G'lisu was jarred suddenly from his writing by a deep throated roar. An enormous pink-no,red head with a dark splotch-like marking, shoved into his weyr. Normally placid blue eyes raged orange and Makath brayed.

To the skies! Thread! Thread is falling!

What!? But its not time yet-

The wing leader calls! Get my harness and lets go! Our wingmates need us!

Gar scrambled to comply, grabbing the well oiled leather and slapping it on his enormous dragon. The amber eyed man snapped his goggled on and Makath was off, plummeting towards the 'stone stores. The Weyrlings were understaffed, so Gar had leap off his mount to grab bags and tie them on, then Makath launched.

They blinked out of Between in formation just as the wave hit. The brown sized Red was doing admirable. Not a scorch or score yet. But he could see his wing mates were not faring as well. He chanced a glance back, trying to spot the smallest Green. But Makath careened after a missed clump, unaware of his rider’s concern for Que’rix. With another great roar, the Red's long, bright flame seared a path.

Griffikath's bellow woke K'ale. The man flailed from his furs and onto the floor, reaching for the nearest piece of clothing. "Wh-what is it? What's going on?" He looked around in haste and pulled on the tunic without a thought. Get dressed. Now! There was a clamor from the dragon's couch and the rider hastened out to assess the damage. "What's going on?" The Blue rounded on him with a fierce expression and K'ale took a momentary step backward. THREAD FALLS! He grew pale and bolted back into his quarters, donning his gear with a speed he had never been known to possess. There was a tangle in his straps and it took several precious moments for it to get untangled. How could he have been so careless? Griffikath fidgeted with impatience and was quiet throughout the dressing of the straps. He inched closer to the ledge and, by the time K'ale had strapped himself in, was on his claw tips at the edge. With a great lurch, the pair took off and dove towards the Weyrlings awaiting with firestone. A bag was thrown towards him and Turns of drills had his grip on automatic. The bag secured, the Blue craned his neck around and ingested as much as he could chew.

And then the cold of between hit him.

The formation was impeccable as only perfect practice allows but it wasn't something anyone could take to admire at this moment in time. Flame surged from Griff's throat into a clump nearly atop his nose. Something whooshed past his ear and a hissing settled on his right shoulder. Griffikath! Between! The cold hit him again and then they were back in the air again. He reached down and thumped a hand against his dragon's neck, ever grateful for the big lug. Flame again surged from the Blue and the soot of the devoured Thread hit him straight in the face. The cloudy morning did nothing for the need for light and the dirty goggles weren't helping anything either. How the others are fairing, I can only guess. The thought flitted across the front of his thoughts before the task at hand overcame everything else.

The sunrise was not lost on all inhabitants of the Weyr; the weyrleader was wide awake. T’sova had woken in the early morning candlemarks, unable to find sleep again. Though his behemoth bronze still slumbered it was a fitfull sleep. The dragon twitched and shifted in his sleep, obviously troubled by his subconscious. T’sova had moved from his bed to his dragon’s side, wrapped up against the cold in his furs. From there, while his dragon’s hide jumped beneath his hand, the weyrleader had watched the sunrise, or what there was of one for the dark clouds in the sky, for the first time in a long while. That wasn’t to say that the weyrleader hadn’t been awake to see the rise in a long while but that this was the first time he had let his duties lie for a candlemark or two to sit in peace and watch it.

Afterwards, when he still felt uneasy he had gotten up, deciding to officially start his day. He got dressed, following the impulse that told him to dress in his riding leathers. It was while he was just finishing up that Jath succumbed to his restlessness as well and with his rising came the affirmation of the experienced pairs suspicions. Thread falls on the Weyr, T’sovaMine. The bronze murmured, voice soft but full of eagerness. T’sova turned from his wardrobe, eyes flashing with intensity, to stand beside his partner. Out in front of them the black sky provided a clear contrast for the glinting silver flashes that were the first clumps of the deadly thread. Steady, experienced fingers calmly tied the bronzes straps into place, silently checking for tightness and security.

The bronze was all but quivering with barely contained anticipation when His clipped his helmet on and mounted up onto Jath’s shoulders. As he finished tying the last strap, he gave the great bronze a pat and the reckless smile that was so characteristic of him spread across the bronzerider’s handsome face. “Jath, what say we show these amateurs how it’s done?” The bronze rumbled in excitement that matched his eyes which swirled a vibrant light green with just a touch of gray. Jath leapt from their ledge, roaring out his elation to the Weyr and T’sova couldn’t help the whoop of excitement that emanated from his throat. The bronze pinned his wings to his sides and they experienced an exhilarating free fall before the wide expanse snapped open to guide them to the center of the weyrbowl where activity had already erupted.

Leaping from his mount, T’sova retrieved his own bags of firestone, strapping several to his bronze’s straps while Jath tore into another, guzzling the valuable fuel source that would secure his success in this Threadfall. When he was sure they were adequately supplied, T’sova mounted back up. He took one extra moment to make sure he was strapped in securely for the challenges they were about to face. The smile never left his face as his blue eyes found his wingsecond, the younger Platinumrider R’nianon and gave a silent nod of understanding.

Jath turned to look at his fellows. Brothers and Sisters, today we face our ancient enemy. Today we fly, today we flame, today we fight and today we win.

“Are you ready for this one, my friends?” He whooped out to his wing as its members took their places. He took firm hold of his straps in one hand and gave the signal with the other. The Mayhem Wing was off, taking their place as first line of defense in the sky. The momentary flash of cold from between hit him like a stormy blast, proving as always to be colder than any weather they could face, but it only roused him more. They reappeared high above they ‘bowl, Thread pouring down from above. Jath’s regal neck arched to blast a clump to his right with a shot of fire, disintegrating the threat in front of their eyes before searching for his next foe. T’sova attempted to split his time between focusing with his dragon on the task at hand and watching out for any problems with his wingriders. It was difficult no doubt, but this was not the first time he was wingleader and he and Jath had managed to work the tasks into an adequate tactic. The weyrleader’s eyes were never still nor his head. No doubt, his neck would be sore when this was all over, but if that was the worst he felt, he would take it with relief.

Tyzana didn't like how dark it was when it was supposed to be dawn by that time. Angeth seemed a bit uneasy, her tail curving around to rest beside Tyzana, seeking a comforting touch that the rider did not give. She didn't like her dragon being so uncomfortable, but she couldn't deny the worried voices in her head as distant watch dragons looked for signs of Thread. Why was it always like this? Sure, Thread had been falling in odd patterns lately but Tyzana hadn't been able to get much sleep because of the voices of other dragons, speaking in such a way that even their emotionless voices quivered with uneasy fear of a Fall. Tyzana had to be proud of their vigilance, and that day she would be grateful. Thread had decided to Fall!

Tyzana was alerted the minute the watch dragons said the word, a bonus to hearing every dragon in the Weyr, and she jumped onto Angeth's back as the red got out of her nest quickly. Freedom and Lullaby made a move to follow but Tyzana gave them a hard command to stay in the weyr where it was safer. The large red launched out of their weyr, rider in harness, and bellowed out an encouragement to all her wingmates before landing in the Weyr to get some firestone; such a basic requirement that Tyzana was embarrassed that she forgot it so easily. Do not worry, Tyzana. We have the stone now and we can help our friends, came the warm voice, warm and comforting enough to make Tyzana ignore the bitter cold of between. Angeth chewed up a high graded stone and blasted a clump of Thread into little more then shivaled black ash.

The Fall had begun...

The following is an admin-controlled thread attack. It is entirely randomized. Enjoy.

As the wings appeared, Thread was immediately upon them. The dragons might have been ready, but this was the thread that would not die. Today again, ichor and blood would be shed. First to feel the sting was black Krishnath, who by sheer bad luck was caught on her back as she came from between. A small pre-fall clump fell on her haunches and tail, making almost countless small scores there before she could disappear back between.

Hers was not the last attack of the day, though. Next was Maaikith, clipped on one wingshoulder by a rogue strand of thread that barely missed his rider, again before they even had a chance to start fighting.

The next attack was after a short pause, and happened as quick as lightning. Another of the strange rogue strands swept under the stream of air of Griffikath's wing. It was small and quick, hardly seen, but certainly felt. It flitted just briefly over the side of K'ale's leg, and just as quickly slipped on and hit the blue's hip, again just briefly before it disappeared again, too small to cause much damage.

Next to suffer the sting of the Fall was the pale red Angeth. A burst of wind pushed a clump that had previously passed the red back up toward her, the thread catching the trailing edges of her right wing. Only for a moment, but then as she came back from between the ichor made a streamer behind her.

For this round, Thread was now done drawing blood and would fall for a time to the flame. However, injuries could still occur, and still would. In a fall like this, no one could come away unscathed. A brown in the wing followed after a clump of thread, flaming it to burning ash, but then the wind caught it. The cinders caught and flew off course, smacking straight into B'rodan's shoulder and neck. The ash only made some black marks on the riding leathers, but would be more than a bit unpleasant against the bit of skin showing at his neck. He'd be fine, but he wouldn't be happy for a while.

A groan was instinctual as power dragon voices rang through her slumbering mind, a calling to arms, a warning, a battle cry. But after a moment, her mind sparked to awareness, heightened by the familiar suspense of the common threat. The small woman rolled out of her furs, bare feet thudding briefly on the stone before she was moving quickly about the tidy weyr.

Stretch, darling, She suggested, reaching out towards the sleepy mind of the brilliant green dragoness in the next cavern. Rider and dragon still felt the stiffness of sleep, it was only routine that allowed Kattrin to efficiently find her gear. She pulled on the heavyweight trousers and fastened her jacket all the way up, followed by worn boots and gloves. Her long hair hung down her back in a messy braid, which she efficiently wound into a knot at the base of her neck, putting on her helmet and pushing backwards slightly to trap her thick shock of fringe up and out of her eyes.

Kattrin strode out to Releneth's cavernous couch, dragoness and rider moving swiftly alongside each other to fasten on the dragon's riding straps. In less than a quarter of candlemark,the greenpair was winging down to the Bowl to collect firestone, with a glimmering haze of silver glinting in the light of early dawn. Kattrin took a few bags of firestone from a wainting weyrling, fastening the bags to Releneth's harness as the dragoness crunched through another bag.

Let's fly! Relly bugled, waiting the briefest moment for Kattrin to settle on her shoulders before launching into the air with her wing. She fell into formation between the pale pink form of Angeth, and just behind dark Krishnath. Unexpected or not, it was always a good day to fight Thread.

Yyvith woke suddenly as cries went up, of dragons fighting and calling their battle cries, of riders and dragons launching an attack upon Thread. She stood up quickly and shook herself, flexing her wings as far as the chamber would allow. Striding over to the fur lined bed, she nosed aside the blankets and shoved at the rider laying inside. A grunt followed and a small form tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor, right on her tiny derriere. "Wha?" Hazel eyes blinked up at the green in sleepy confusion. "What is it Yyvith?" The green dragoness huffed and the blond hair quivered around the woman's face.

Thread is falling, Mine. We must fly.

Cassamira's fuzzy thoughts cleared at the single mention of Thread and she ran to her chest of drawers to pull out her riding gear and flight jacket. Harness and boots quickly followed and both Yyvith and Cassi were flying out of their weyr in minutes. The joined the wing quickly, noticing that a few had already taken hits from the Thread. The greenrider glanced down at the scar along Yyvith's neck from a particularly deep Thread wound two Turns back. They must be more careful this time.

Be cautious, love. Do you see T'kal and Erelath? she inquired about their mates. The green shook her head as she watched for errant silver streaks. No, but I am sure they will be along shortly. Cassamira nodded and focused on the task at hand, flaming as much Thread as they could, quickly and with the agility only other greens could hope to possess.

"SON OF A BITRAN!" B'rodan bellowed out rather dramatically. A few cinders had blown onto him and had burned his neck. It wasn't a terrible burn. For one, he could feel it, which meant it wasn't a third degree, maybe it was a second degree burn as his hand automatically clapped to his neck. He shouted again in pain. It was nothing he couldn't handle, but damn he didn't need that. "Sear that spore, Ana!" B'rodan cried out angrily.

If anything, the cinders had only served to further inflame him. Literally.

The platinum twisted slightly in the air, his short wings making the maneuver difficult but necessary as he stretched out his neck to engulf a tangling clump. It was gone quickly and efficiently, and both were pleased with their work as they flew onwards. He kept an eye on his fellow riders, and kept watch above for additional Thread. The platinum had a much wider range of vision than he did, but both knew that two sets of eyes above were better than one.

With a belch, another flame met their ancient enemy. Then another, and another. The Thread kept coming, and so did the Platinum's flame. Eventually, Ana's head twisted back.

/]Stone./

B'rodan refueled his friend, and they resumed their searing battle.



It was instantaneous, the pain that Tello felt in her shoulder, that blossomed from Maaikith's shoulder in the form of precious ichor. They disappeared Between before even looking at the wound to see if there was more left behind. Sometimes, it was those moments taken that would cost a life. And Tello was not ready to die. They reappeared flaming.

Maaikith gave a great roar, much too great for a dragon of his size as he turned in the air, snaking his head out to destroy clump after clump. They would need to return to the weyr for more Stone when it came to be time, but they still had some with them as they destroyed the silvery, deadly spore. Thread would be beautiful if you hadn't known what it was. Instead, to Tello and Maaikith and all other Pernese, it was a terrible, hideous monster. Silver filigree was not so lovely.

Your wing! How is your wing!? Tello asked, rubbing her own shoulder in sympathetic pain. She looked herself, it was still leaking ichor, though it did not seem a particularly bad wound.

/I can fly,/ Maaikith replied shortly, without pause. He did not stop flaming, casting his fire over the terrible spores. A particularly large clump threatened to touch them again, but Maaikith twisted, rolling over to dodge it and subsequently flame it.

It was for maneuvers like these that dragonriders had straps like those that held Tello on, though she did lose some little knick-knack that had been in her pocket, long forgotten. Probably some good luck charm from Mirali, or something. She was glad she had nothing to do with Mirali anymore.

Would Lou one day fight by her side in the air?

Makath was located back near the smaller dragons of the wing. To his horror, G’lisu saw a clump of silver death land full on the back of his Black wingmate. But he couldn’t stay distracted for long. Makath snaked his head back, mouth agape, demanding ‘stone. It was enough to bring G’lisu’s attention back to the task at hand.

Thankfully, not a piece of thread had escaped the Brown-sized Red’s flame. Triumphant and caught up in his adrenaline rush, Gar glanced up ward, grinning towards the clouds, fist pumping the air. His expression rapidly turned to dread however, as the biggest mass of Thread he had ever seen came hurtling down towards his dragon.

A clump right above!

He shrieked, kicking the Red’s neck. The wind was against them and Gar winced as his dragon swung his bulk up and around in an impossible maneuver for a beast so large. But his entire body hadn’t cleared the mass of death. Makath squealed just before the Thread touched his hide and went Between.

As they floated in nothingness, G’lisu shivered. It seemed tick his thick riding gear wasn’t affective today. Not that it ever was, against the cold of Between. It was almost like he was wet while wearing not a shred of clothing, and he would be reluctant to go back into the nothingness when they had to.

Only a few seconds had passed and Makath soon had them back out into the fray.

Erelath rolled to avoid a clump of threadfall, snarling at it even as it brushed right past his belly, not touching, but close enough to make even his rider a bit worried. It is much more dangerous than I can ever remember it being, Rider... I worry for the others... The brown mentally told his rider, even as he swerved to avoid yet another clump before rearing back his head and shooting a powerful flame right into one more grouping of it. The ashes fell harmlessly over his face, proving that had he flown even a bit more forward without flaming, it would have tumbled right into his face and chest, which could have easily proven deadly.

Agreed... But we can't do anything about that except do our best. T'kal replied, all the while searching for further Thread that could harm his dragon, occasionally craning his head to look for Cassamira, hoping she was doing okay as well. Yyvith is a strong, smart dragoness... She will allow no harm to come to Her's, so stop being so gloomy and pay attention! Erelath scolded his lapse, even while barrel rolling out of the way as a black came flying by, chasing a hard line of flame up an exceedingly long fall of Thread. A sharp cry turned his head, and he noticed that Black Krishnath, the fierce dragoness even he didn't like to be around too often, had taken the first score, though luckily it didn't seem to be too terribly mad, pockmarking over her hindquarters. There would be worse today, for certain, but Erelath still was no happy with how early in the fall the first injury had occurred...

Dragon after dragon and rider after rider felt the sting of Thread, though luckily Erelath and T'kal were unmarked so far, if but barely. Several times, only a fast thought or swift action saved the pair, and one time it was from narrowly avoiding another dragon that they were able to save themselves from a mid-air collision which could have wreaked true havoc. Erelath bugled loudly as a fledged weyrling flew up, directing the blue closer to him as T'kal threw over the bags he had already emptied. "Good job, kid! Keep it up!" He yelled over, even as several fresh bags were tossed his way so he could continue doing his duty without pause. The weyrling grinned before ducking down out of the fray once more.

R'nianon tried to keep an eye on all the mess going on around the wing, but it was just too much. Almost immediately, dragons and people were screaming, and the air whooshed with the sound of dragons disappearing into between. He wanted to help ease some of T'sova's burden, but he could barely keep control over what was going on around him in the immediate area.

For the time being, though, he and Mysaoth escaped score and injury, and Mysaoth continued to flame thread with relative success. Even as dragons disappeared around them and below, they continued to fight.

Krishnath's scream of fury and pain was cut off sharply as she disappeared into between, reappearing a moment later with black dust coating the starfield of green stains starting to form on her silver back. With added vengeance to her flame, she seared into the oncoming fall, her eyes violently red and reckless in her new vendetta against the Thread.

Ser'no turned back to see the damage, and he cried out in anguish at the damage the thread had done, making countless scars on his precious dragon's back. // Hush! Threadscore is a mark of beauty on a dragon. I am better for it. // He turned back and ducked as ash flew threw the air, but did not drop the matter. "You're hurt!" he shouted through the rush of air and noise, "You need to be checked on!" She roared and spun to flame a clump that nearly brushed her tail. // There's still a fight to be had! //

That finally shut Ser'no up, though he wasn't happy about it any more that he had been. His precious was bleeding, and someone would have to pay.

Everything had been going so well. Thread was falling a little erratically but they had managed to stay clear of disaster so far. The thermal they had been gliding on ran out and Griffikath pumped his wings for altitude. Something silver caught K'ale's attention and was quickly followed by a hiss from his Blue. Swiveling to the right the rider saw his jacket had a rather worn patch on the shoulder and could see an ugly welt forming on his dragon's thigh. It is nothing but a burn. It did not come in contact long enough to cause any real damage. Are you alright? Only then did fear loosen her grip and the man turned back around in his saddle to offer more firestone. I am fine.

The screams of both dragons and people permeated the otherwise brisk atmosphere. He'd always hate the sound. There was nothing he could for those outside of his formation for now because it was all he could do to watch out for those in his. It was going to be much more of a hectic fall than he had thought. Why couldn't they be out over the ocean? The ground crews would have a heck of a time trying to clean up this mess. There was no way the dragons were going to be able to reach all of it what with this wind threatening to sweep them all from the backs of their dragons.

Mell has been threaded out... This is a randomized thread attack, but the minute details up to you.

The fight continued, and even those that had been hit once were not safe. Lightning didn't strike the same place twice, but Thread did.

K'ale was hit by a tendril of thread that slipped by Griffikath's flame. The thread was just small and brushed his shoulder almost harmlessly.
G'lisu was hit full on the chest by three strands of thread swept by on the wind. Luckily, leather kept him from certain death.
R'nianon got hit on the head, the thread snaking down to his neck and shoulder before Mysaoth could take him between.
Angeth was hit again, but this time was a minor collision, her neighbor wingdragon accidentally hitting her wing, leaving a small scratch, and distracting her for a moment so that several small scores clipped her eyeridge.
Erelath was the one that would be hit hardest, though. Four clumps congregated around him at once, and he could only flame two and dodge the third before the fourth descended hungrily upon his wing. The last sail and half of the sail next to it was almost immediately in shreds. Erelath was done for this fall.
A small rogue thread, hardly even visible in the gray sky, sneaked by Jath's defenses and snaked lightly over the top of T'sova's wrist.
As Yyvith appeared from between after dodging a large clump of thread, the remains of a clump flamed by another dragon swept over her tail, the ash and resilient strands sticking to her before she could disappear between.
Finally, Kattrin was struck by a few widespread strands of thread that Releneth attempted to dodge, but the wind blew them toward her rider instead. Two hit her torso, but one swept over her face for just a moment before the dragon caught on and disappeared to safety.

Kattrin cursed loudly as they blinked in from the stifling safety of Between, her body contracting towards the pain in her torso. Stray Thread had caught her in their last dive, sending blistering pain along her cheek and then across her ribcage and another on her stomach.

Mine, are you alright? Releneth's spring-like voice flooded her mind with additional warmth as the dragoness looked deeper into their bond, feeling the injuries for herself. Kattrin touched one ginger hand to her stomach, revealing some blood staining her glove. She could feel a drop sliding down her cheek as well, but the pain had subsided to stinging. The injuries weren't bad enough to warrant dropping out of the fight just yet.

I'm fine, Relly. Kattrin assured the green. It was little more than flesh wounds, though the woman was now profoundly thankful for her goggles, which seemed to have saved her sight. She could feel the pain right beneath the edge, along her cheekbone, where the tendril of Thread must have been bumped away from her eye. She would see a Healer when the Fall was done, but for now there was work left to do.

She glanced around at her wingfellows, though none seemed in such immediate danger as to warrant assistance. And so the greenpair again looked forward to the silvery menace, winging up to char a particularly thick clump of Thread with satisfaction and wheel about to find their next target.

Fight...

Wheel and burn...

Flashing wings... DUCK! Dive, roll!

Erelath and T'kal were of one mind as they fought their aerial battle, ducking in and out of the larger dragons while hovering protectively over the smaller ones at times, and though the Thread was a bit erratic, and the weather was cold and dark, it wasn't... terrible. For a short time, the brownrider thought that perhaps this fall wouldn't be too bad after all...

Of course T'kal should have known better to tempt fate (or just Mellody XP) with thoughts such as that, and no sooner had he really began to relax into the pattern than dragon after dragon began to get pelted by thread, as if hurled by the hands of angry gods. Erelath snarled as he saw several riders touched by the burning enemy, and whipped his head around to help Angeth when he saw her get distracted when another dragon accidentally flew into her path avoiding a clump.

But unfortunately, that left his own self open, and before T'kal could even cry alarm, several clumps began to converge on him, and no matter what he did, Erelath knew he'd not be able to get to them all in time... T'kal urged him to back off, but there was no time, and while the brown attempted to combat his enemy, a wide gout of flame completely incinerating two clumps, and a slight shift preventing contact with another, nothing could have saved him as the fourth and final grouping of Thread shot straight towards him, and his rider. In a selfless move, he screamed and rolled sideways, catching the thread all along his wing, instead of T'kal getting in its face, and the tone of his cry went automatically from defiance to pain as the sails were viciously chewed at.

The cold and dark of Between was welcome respite from the burning, Erelath slipping into it without a thought, but knew he couldn't stay long. Unfortunately for the pair of them, the brown and his rider were blinded by pain, and instead of coming up a safe distance from the healer's area, Erelath instead came too close, and with the last bit of his energy, he redirected his course, and instead of falling right into the midst of the human healers, possibly injuring any number of them, the brown instead plowed headlong into the ground, digging up huge furrows, and damaging himself even further. T'kal's straps broke loose suddenly, sending him hurtling over the dragon's head and neck, and he landed several meters away, landing on his shoulder with a sickening crack that produced a scream from both him and his dragon...

The Red fought on gamely, ignoring the shrieks and moans drifting past on erratic winds. He glanced back at his dragon’s pink-I mean, red tail, seeing a dark smudge of green where Thread had scored the dragon’s tail.

You alright?

I am fine G'lisumine. Just a few scratches.

Gar rolled his eyes. He knew he could trust the Red to know his limits.

I don‘t belong to you, now focus and flame!

The Red rider cried as his dragon barreled after some strands which had separated from a clump. His nostrils flared with the satisfying stink of char as they succeeded. Gar’s grin was wide when the wind shifted once more, three slivers of silver death sweeping into his chest. The spores moved fast, dissolving his leathers and reaching his skin in a matter of seconds.

The former scribe had never been trained for combat and cried with every splinter and stubbed toe. He was not a macho man. Gar screamed. Sensing his rider’s pain, Makath betweened with a shriek of his own.

They reappeared in moments, dragon and rider shivering at the frosted edges of the man’s wound.
G’lisu hissed, pressing a hand to his chest and drawing it away. His pale hand was covered with blood. His vision began to blur and his breath came erratically. He could have died! Only the extra layer of leather saved G’lisu from certain death. A concerned and soothing presence wrapped around the man’s panicked mind and he relaxed slightly.

Gar!? Gar Bage!? Are you okay!?

Makath cried, voice frantic and surprisingly normal. Shuddering Gar could only nod. The dragon turned his head slightly, one great yellow gem taking in his boy. The dragon bugled in alarm.

Gar is not okay! We must go down now! You are covered in blood!

Its not that serious! I can last the fall! They need you up here-

And the wing needs you. Unless the Healers clear you I refuse to fight. Now picture the Weyrbowl!

Shocked at the Red’s demanding tone, Gar closed his eyes, giving the image of the Healer’s clearing to Makath. One second they were there, the next they were gone.

Some might say his enthusiasm was misplaced, Threadfall was dangerous and it never ended well. Even when they managed to destroy all of the strands, the slew of injuries that always followed always hit the weyr hard. It was worth it, of course, a few sevendays of pain was nothing for the trade of the safety of the crops, beasts, and inhabitants of the weyr. But T’sova was almost happy for the Fall. His bronze rider mentality and inner daredevil coupled with the link of Jath’s instinctual desire to fight Thread meant that T’sova could be eager.

The only way it could have been better was if the man did not care about his fellows around him. If T’sova was not a wingleader or weyrleader, if he didn’t have friends, family, or lovers out in the fray with him; if T’sova had only to worry about risking himself and his mount than the Bronze pair might’ve taken to the skies with wild abandon. But it was not so, and therefore, as they fought their own share of thread, T’sova was watching his wingriders like a hawk. Many had been hit, not too badly, thankfully but hit none-the-less. His experienced eyes caught when a trip between was a manuveur and when it was a defence against invading thread. He shouted encouragement and directions to his riders as the flew through intricate patterns. They had been rehearsed in practice but to the unknowing eye, the wing probably looked like a swarm of gnats.

Jath demanded refueling and Sovy reached for the spare ‘stone. He was focused on the task at hand and Jath was out of fuel, neither caught the single, small strand that skimmed across the back of T’sova’s wrist. The skin was exposed from his movement and it left a thin red score across the expanse. He winced and growled as Jath took them between to kill the nuisance. It hurt but was completely superficial and not worth worrying about. The blow that came directly after they reappeared was more worth the worry. A hefty object struck him from behind, cutting across his shoulder amd throwing him off balance. The hefty object landed in his lap, a strange oblong thing that looked a little like a smooth rock. It was not as dense as a stone but the blow would certainly leave a mark. And as it crashed into his lap, the deceptively innocent looking thing burst open revealing its true nature. It’s inside was writhing with Thread, somehow packed into the bundle.

He was absolutely stunned for a fraction of second, and lucky for any hopes of ever producing offspring, the Thread squirmed forward towards Jath’s exposed neck instead of eating through it’s shell into the Bronzerider’s lap. The alternative was not much better of an option though and T’sova did the only thing he could think of. With a strangled cry from surprise and fear, he swept his arm across the mass of thread, sacrificing it in sweeping the Thread away from his bonded’s neck. It chewed hungrily into his arm but the bronze’s life was safe.

“Jath! Between!” He bellowed, and the burning pain of the threadscore was traded for the less brutal chill as the cold darkness froze the edges of the wound and killed the thread. The reappeared in the light of day, even the gloomy day that it was. Unbidden tears leaked from his eyes, and T’sova directed his dragon downwards towards the Healers tent. He would need to wrap his mangled arm, before they continued their fight, though he vowed that they would return to the air.

((Sovy will briefly appear in the Healer thread, but has returned to Fight))

Tyzana heard them, the cries as the dragons around her were scored by the miss-falling thread. They didn't sound like cries but Tyzana knew that no one, not even the mightiest bronze dragon, could ignore the stinging burn of the Thread against their hide. Angeth moved out of the way of one clump of thread to avoid the sting while she flamed another patch. A strong wing came from the right and before either of them could do anything more, the patch Angeth had just avoided came back for another attempt to injure her. "Between Angeth!" Tyzana screamed, hoping to avoid the thread, but pieces caught Angeth's right wing along the edge and they both, as one, felt the burn. The icy cold of between numbed most of the pain, but Tyzana could not keep her eyes off the thin strings of ichor that fell from the injury. "Are you alright?" Tyzana asked when the red turned for more stone, Yes, do not worry about me, she replied as she blew fire at the thread in front of her.

It wasn't long before the next injury, though Tyzana was grateful that it wasn't as bad when it came. Though the cause was infuriating. A dragon, a blue, had accidently knocked Angeth off her perfect balance but before Tyzana could tell them to watch where they were going the rider felt a sting just above her eye, she instinctivly raised a hand to check the damage before turning to look at the small scores over her dragon's eye. Why doesn't the thread hit her instead of her Angeth? Tyzana had it in her mind to chew the stone herself and spit fire like her red, but all common sense stopped her from poisoning herself with the fire-giving rock.

Yyvith screamed as burning ash and some of the more persistent Thread struck her tail. She blinked between before Cassi knew what was happening, but she managed to focus on a space above the Weyr before they returned to the skies so they wouldn't end up crashing into the side of the bowl. As they rose to begin the fight anew, the Kelly green held her tail a bit stiffly, affecting some of her agility in the process. She could still fight and wouldn't give up so easily.

It was a cry of pain that cause the green and her rider to jerk. That cry was familiar! Cassamira whipped her head around to see Erelath turn, his wing being scored by a large clump of Thread. Yyvith let out a shrieking kreel as her mate landed harshly on the ground, his head plowing into the earth. Cassi could only watch in horror as T'kal was thrown from the brown's back to land on the ground.

Erelath!

Searing a clump of Thread in her way, she circled above him. There were too many people around to land, healers rushing to them, so she waited anxiously. They would find them with the Healers as soon as the Threadfall ended. As much as Cassi wanted to, she could not abandon her duties to protect the Weyr.