Flight, what a wondrous thing. The wingbeats that propelled her forth rippled through her entire body, every muscle that lined the torpedo-shaped vessel flexed and stretched in a harmonic synchrony, allowing the motion of flight to exist, permitting the queen to initiate this heated chase. The thrumming of air rushing past her draconic ears was almost deafening, but even then they could not miss the deep, resonating call of a bronze claiming his rights to the company of his golden queen. Blood seemed to rush faster through her veins as the implications of it settled into her subconscious mind - her conscious mind, that is, her equine nature, was seemingly tucked away, absent, a passenger in this wild ride. A heat spread through her, as wildly her serpentine nape turned her chiselled crown to view the beast that followed her, all the while her wings continued pushing her up, higher, and higher still.

As the Sun came closer so too did the heat rise all around her. It was not unpleasant - she was a dragon after all - but she felt it rise in her throat, the stirrings of her fire belly longing to make itself known. There was little choice in the matter for her - as Vikram well knew, the art of breathing fire was one that required practise, and though the WeyrLeader had practised with her queenly companion, right now she was wildly out of control of herself, completely and wholly separated. The fire that surged from within her now was hot, a pale orange rimmed with whites and blues, curling itself into a fireball, streaming itself out dozens of feet in front of her maw - washing over her bodice as she flew through it, burning the air behind her, around her. It was fortunate Vikram was mostly a fireproof hybrid, she would later think, otherwise she may have just inadvertently fried her mate, which would not have done any good at all in these lusty times.

A pull tugged upon her then, threatening to subdue her, to control her, to redirect her haphazard flight towards the Sun and turn it back towards the Earth below. She growled, both vocally and mentally, rearing her defences and locking the irritating voice away. Wingbeats sounded closer to her, as in her distraction the bronze that gave chase rolled on closer - with a sharp glance and a curled lip she tried to push herself on ahead of him again.

But adrenaline did not last forever, even for a dragon. If she was conscious now, she would realise that they flew higher than they ever had before, taller than most clouds, nearing the point where the air began growing too thin, and the temperature too low - of course, she hardly noticed that, what with containing a furnace in her belly and all. He circled her, much like a predator would eye off his prey, and she glowed before him, dipping and swirling, dancing around him, naturally more agile in the air but admittedly a bit more subdued in her motions. There was more to their dance more, more suggestive caresses, more crooning sounds of affection rather than aggression. It was lust, but it was driven by love, and upon that love, came the consciousness of the equine soul once more. Singing a dragonsong, she motioned to rub the length of her bodice alongside his, before pointing inevitably down.

Down, down, down she flew. Towards the ground, a bullet shot from the heavens to land upon the sandy beaches below. Her form was arrow shaped, wings tucked so close they were barely discernible along her back, nape and tail held straight and true, shifting only to steer her fall in the appropriate direction. Down, down, through all the layers of wind and changing temperatures, never deviating, aiming only for a spot of sand, near which lay a dead deer.

Much she had done earlier, when leaping off the cliff, the dragon waited until she was mere metres from the earth's crust before opening her sail-like wings, grunting at the effort it took to realign her bodice parallel to the earth, and soar low and fast. This time when she called upon her magic, it was in reverse. The concentration it took to transform gave her a headache, it made her senses foggy, but even as she flew, she felt herself change, felt the bones and muscles realign - felt the reassuring embrace of her beloved Akaith guiding her through it, so that she might survive this feat. With four hooves dangling at the base of a glowing golden bodice, she galloped along the sand, her outline blurry, awash with shadows as at last, she completed the transformation, and was once again a dark equine mare with a golden dragon tattoo upon a sandy haven. Tail was held high in the air as she ran, her steps light and gay despite her fatigue, her eyes searching for the beast she knew would follow her.

To the shadows, to the shadows, came the urging, a singsong voice within her cranium, a voice she knew would likely resonate within Vikram's own. And so she led her prize, her beloved mate and cherished partner in life, to the northern edge of the Endless Blue, towards the comforts of home but not quite all the way there, so share in the sacrament of courtship, the epitome of lust realised, the warm embrace of total and complete love and faith in another soul. Never before had the little mare felt this, allowed this, for so long she had waited for him - and now, the time was here.

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