Riddle Me This [C'vir]

The morning had been a quiet one, free of both major duties and -- mercifully -- any outlandish requests from Besulth. C'vir had taken the available early hours as an opportunity to clean his hut, in which the chaos of clutter had reigned for the past sevenday. His rooms were never dirty in the way some Katilan's rooms were dirty, but for a man disturbed by anything remotely out of place, even the most moderate accumulation of clutter was cause for concern. He'd been uncharacteristically testy of late, blaming his short temper on the articles of clothing that littered his floor and the faint trace of dust on the furniture. The candlemarks he spent sweeping and folding finally cleansed his mind as well as his quarters, returning his emotions to their appropriate interior compartments and levels. When he had finished, the bulk of his irritability had been brushed away along with the dirt. Feeling balanced and a bit hungry, he tidied up his appearance and set off for the dining hall, choosing a meandering, indirect route through the huts.

Despite the relative ease and speed of navigating the sprawl of Katila aboard Besulth, C'vir routinely opted to walk instead. The busier he kept his body, the less trouble he got from his mind. As a pedestrian, the brownrider was far more aware of what was happening around him than the path in front of him. He'd turn to nod to a rider stepping out into the sunlight, or survey a particularly well-made hut approvingly. He trusted his legs to keep him going in the appropriate direction and his reflexes to keep him from bumping into anything while his eyes were otherwise occupied.

Armath's abrupt announcement was solely responsible for saving him from colliding with the parts of the brown's body that lay in his path. He jerked to stop, halted by both the intrusion of the unfamiliar draconic voice into his mind and the protrusion of an unfamiliar draconic body into his way. He corrected his route, edging around Armath with a faint frown of displeasure. Before continuing along, he took a peek at the rider sheltering himself in the shade of the adjoining hut, less out of curiosity than commiseration: he, too, was bonded to a brown with a penchant for being a pain in the ass. C'vir noted with an upward twitch of his eyebrow that the "Riddle King" was anything but resplendent. He was a bit plain, and a bit hairy, but at least he wasn't a greenrider.

C'vir cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt the war of the wits, but your dragon is blocking a sizable portion of the road. I'll attribute the fact that you haven't noticed to the amount of concentration that solving riddles evidently demands." Perhaps cleaning hadn't completely soothed his surliness after all.