Feyesta paced the grand, polished landing slab, her claws clicking against the ancient spiral-shell fossil as she waited for the last of their party to join them. The rest of the Nidus had given her the space; it was the first real, official flight since they'd become reconnected to the Nexus, and the dragons that lived here were courteous to their Queens.

:: It's traditional, :: Feyesta reminded herself. :: Even if nothing else about this is. ::

In the back of her mind, her rider, Tria, sent soothing strength over their shared connection. 'I believe in you,' she said. 'You've thought all of this through.'

:: Fate can be strange, :: Feyesta murmured back. She snapped to focus, then, as a flurry of wings caught her ear and the pummeling of wind brought her suitors to the landing. Her eyes shifted from a wary amber to a swirl of rainbow intent, and she gave a bugle that echoed off the surrounding mountainside.

Her suitors responded in kind, the orange-hued Mulineth perhaps the loudest of all. :: Let's get this party started! :: he crowed, which earned Feyesta's direct, intent focus.

It was maybe not the first time that he'd been looked at as such, but it was probably the first that someone told him, :: I'm afraid this is no party, sir. I'm not flying for fun. ::

:: You're not? :: Mulineth looked dubious, disbelieving.

:: Well... no; I'm testing all of you. My offspring will need to bear the best that any of you have to offer. We're at war, after all. ::

:: You... are?:: Mulineth looked a little more dubious. :: Does this mean 'no beer'? ::

A couple of the other suitors gave droll chuckles or barks of laughter as Feyesta's eyes lit back to warning amber.

Mulineth, seeing the sails were turning, was about to gather his attitude and fly out, when Feyesta said, :: there may be a party, but it will be with the Nidus, not out here. ::

:: Pack it up, party-boy :: the big, fluffy form of Boreon puffed up a little further. He was good-natured, but firm. :: We've a flight to get on with. ::

Feyesta watched those pink wingsails flare as Mulineth went to find the kegs he'd been looking for, and then she turned her attention to the rest. Five in all, from far and wide, and hopefully of a kind that would make her children strong. She'd chosen them above all the rest, drawing from abroad to ensure strong blood. Hopefully one of them would make her proud. :: Well. It's time. Show me what you've got! :: She couldn't resist any longer, for all her well-mannered restraint. Instinct had been surging, and she felt it rippling over her body to hide her almost perfectly, her flesh mimicking invisibility. She took wing, and she could tell without looking that the others were in hot pursuit.

Tria poured another round of drinks for her dragon's suitors' riders, at once calm and marveling that she was entertaining such company. She was never very good at hiding a flush, and though she'd done her best to get the logistics out of the way up front: "whatever Feyesta chooses, I choose with her; mess with me and you forfeit your dragon's chances!" she was still madly pink in the cheeks.

Her company, at least, seemed to get along with her rules without argument. There were better things to talk about, after all. Partially as a distraction, and partially because she was just that way, she'd got them all talking about their war stories, about the Nexus at large. From the destruction of Star City to the incursion of Balespawn and the Smok, to skirmeshes on all sorts of planets both magical and not... these gentlemen had a lot of experience. Tria tried not to draw conclusions about that.

"Are these kids really going to be focusing on fighting, right out of the shell?" Moraga asked, sipping from his cup as he gave Tria a piercing look. "Seems like you're building something bigger than that."

She met his gaze, considering the change of topic. Before she could answer, Greg elbowed him from a chair over. "You don't get to decide what to do with the Queen's eggs, Vasquez."

"We have been thinking about it," Tria admitted, grin rueful as the stories paused for a moment to focus on the here and now. Thinking of Feyesta freed her mind up a little; she wasn't embarrassed at all for her bond. She trusted Feyesta more than anything, and they hadn't just thought about it. They'd talked about it. They'd talked about it together, they'd talked about it with the other leaders. They wanted perfection, in as much as perfection could be got without a syringe and laboratory conditions. She didn't want to mention it now, but along with what information they could get about Feyesta's suitors, Tria knew that she was in the company of augmented folk with experience at war, and besides her own predelictions, she was planning ahead in case she needed to hire them, or call on them in a time of need. That seemed like the kind of conversation one didn't dangle out when the lot of them were likely to be working through the distraction of a flight.

"Feyesta wants stealth, she wants natural inclination towards strength and skill. She isn't prone to sentimentalism," and she gave Moraga an apologetic look as his expression twisted with mild disapproval at her accusation, "and we need what help we can get." She tucked a stray strand of pale hair back over her ear, raising her large shoulders in a shrug. "There will be time for our kids to live, but we're making sure they can protect themselves, and we want them to understand that there's a duty to growing up here. They'll be free to go anywhere else when they hatch, after all; none will be forced to serve."

Moraga matched her gaze right back, watching for her disapproval. Then his shoulders tensed.

They were all only really half-here, in this room, after all.

Feyesta briefly dropped her camoflage, the prickling of her skin relaxing back to its natural silvery sheen. Just in time: Qetszal was all but upon her, and the bright light reflecting from her hide gave him such a blinding that he had to drop back. He gave up a very near win before he'd realized he'd done it, and snarled at the realization.

Behind him, Brailos dipped briefly and surged back up, silent and steady and ready to claim his prize. Beroen caught him by the tail and tugged, laughing outright as he stopped Brailos just short.

Feyesta surged away, diving towards the jagged canopy of evergreens, bugling her own surprise and amusement. She had thought this would be work... but it was fun. She had never thought it would be quite this much fun. She watched the pair of dragons scrapping for just a moment before shivering back to invisibility, panting with exertion to change her trajectory before she had to rest her hide again.

She could see Asp following at a safe distance, avoiding the just recently ended spat and searching for her. Feyesta had considered him ahead of time, and was admiring his scales and the sleek ease with which he flew. Despite his poison, which worried her, he might be a fine choice...

Something small and heavy like a comet streaked into her and curled around her, causing her to roar in surprise.

:: Haha! Got you! ::

Feyesta was still trying to get a look at her captor! Stonesworn, the tiny, two-legged brawler who she'd dismissed almost from the start, gave a feral grin at her from over her own back, cheeky as could be.

:: Your body heat gives you away, every time, :: he said, nipping at her back to show her he meant business. Whatever else they discussed, it would not be calmly, or perhaps even rationally. Feyesta gave another bugle, realizing she quite liked that.

Nor would Tria, it turned out. She'd have to replace her table at some point; and she'd have to apologize to her suitors when she was able to, too. Long after she'd said adieu to Seven and assured him she had not been frightened of his violent transformation during his moment of surprise and victory, she felt Feyesta reaching out to her across their link. The silvery dragoness settled with a tired thud on their landing, padding in to her cavern to flop on her bed. The night was dark and cool beyond, and Tria had shrugged into a warmer layer to greet her bond.

"You seem content," she said, resting in a big, wide-armed sprawl over Feyesta's muzzle.

:: That was not how I thought it would go, :: Feyesta admitted, but she all but hummed with a tired kind of pride. :: Do you think my eggs will be strong? ::

"You know," Tria said, "we'll know when we know. How are you?"

The dragoness took a moment to think about that. :: I am very well. I enjoyed myself. ::

"That's good. That's wonderful." Her rider gave her a tight squeeze, and then rubbed the length of her eyeridge to soothe her. Feyesta closed her eyes and crooned, dipping almost instantly into a doze. "I don't think it's time to give up enjoying ourselves. We might set a bad precedent."

Tria cocked an ear to the entrance of their nidulus, listening to the wafts of music and laughter and the occasional bugle echo their way. Her suitors had found a way to entertain themselves and so had the rest of the Nidus, after a fashion. She felt a sense of pride. Pride, and expectation, because despite it all, she and her bond were going to worry about how to keep their Nidus safe and happy, whether that meant thinking of the Sands or the people beyond them.

For Tria, though, knowing that her Nidus could still celebrate despite the tension in the air, that meant something that gave her heart.