Sense and Sensibility [C'vir]

C'vir was a committed early riser. His body had always demanded that he rise with the sun, a biological directive he rarely minded obliging. He liked the empty early morning hours and found no pleasure in languishing in bed. Fewer people seemed to exist at dawn, and fewer worries. He was at his best before lunchtime, when the world had yet to start moving with quite the same lively fervor that it possessed in the afternoon. Morning meant freshness and clarity and loose shoulders, all of which were doomed to become gradually more compromised as the day wore on; he was willing to trade a candlemark or two of sleep for a small stretch of time spent relatively free of tension.

By the time Besulth began to stir, C'vir had already dressed, eaten breakfast, and returned from the Dining Hall. The brown regularly outslept his rider, a habit about which he was occasionally playfully chided. In addition to valuing rest more than C'vir did, the dragon knew that his rider needed the time he got to himself each morning. Once that time was over, the man belonged to Besulth, and Besulth had needs.

What did you bring me from breakfast? the brown purred.

What do I ever bring you from breakfast? C'vir refused to indulge the dragon's human-food habit, save on extremely special occassions, but that didn't stop the brown from bothering him about it ceaselessly. If you're hungry, there's plenty of fresh herdbeast to be had. An assenting rumble answered him, prompting the rider to grab his straps and step into the mid-morning sunlight. With a practiced series of motions, he readied the dragon for flight and quickly climbed into place. Besulth wasted no time when food was in question. C'vir felt the brown's muscles gather beneath him and then they were aloft, gaining an appropriate amount of altitude before they slipped between.

The rider forcefully blinked away the cold as they appeared just outside of the hunting ranges, arriving in time to watch a dark green body plummet toward the earth. Besulth rumbled appreciatively. I'm landing while they hunt. We can watch.

C'vir glared at the back of the brown's head as they descended, unwilling to make what was supposed to be a simple feeding into a social call. You're here to eat, not to make small talk, the man muttered irritably. Not only was it unwelcome company, it was unwelcome company in the form of a green.

I happen to like greens, Besulth asserted, trying as always to dispel his rider's ill-humor.

You happen to like everything with wings, and most things without.

I'm a bit more selective than that, the brown scoffed. Firelizards have wings and I abhor them.  

Well, the brownrider thought as they landed, relieved by the reminder that there was /something/ with which his dragon wouldn't flirt, at least that's a start.