22.Apr.13, 10:47 PM
The downturned corners of C'vir's mouth twitched rebelliously at M'din's admission, leaving the brownrider's scowl tempered by his efforts not to appear unduly amused. He shook the proffered hand without enthusiasm and offered a terse introduction -- "C'vir." -- before dropping his chin at an angle to fix both of his muddled blue eyes on the dragon's single one. He sighed, unamused. "Wonderful," he muttered dryly. "As if I need another brown bent on tormenting me." He paused to watch Armath withdraw to the appropriate confines of his appointed hollow, blinking impassively at the dragon's public assertion of independence. In a battle of the most purposefully infuriating, he thought, the brown would give Besulth a run for his money. Difficulties of personality notwithstanding, the dragon had moved out of the way, and C'vir's personal duty to civic safety was done. He turned back to M'din with the intention of bidding him a good afternoon and continuing on to the dining hall, a plan thwarted by the offering of an unexpected invitation.
"Come in?" he repeated, mildly incredulous. The only two things that interested him even less than becoming an impromptu houseguest were M'din's books and Armath's riddles, but his fondness for simplicity stopped him from refusing outright. There was, in the other brownrider, something completely guileless: an eager and earnest affability reminiscent of the companion canines C'vir had encountered. He inwardly cursed himself, incapable of rejecting the rare opportunity for genuinely easy companionship he believed a candlemark or two with M'din would offer. The man was disarmingly nonthreatening on every conceivable level, and while he was already somewhat convinced he would soon regret his decision to be sociable, C'vir accepted the invitation with a nod. "May as well," he muttered, skeptical of the quality of his own judgment. It had been an off morning.
Sardonically, and without so much as a backward glance, he replied to Armath. Call him yourself. You clearly enjoy making noise. Both browns presumably taken care of, C'vir swept his arm toward the hut in a gesture of mock gentility, a motion intended to free M'din to lead the way.
"Come in?" he repeated, mildly incredulous. The only two things that interested him even less than becoming an impromptu houseguest were M'din's books and Armath's riddles, but his fondness for simplicity stopped him from refusing outright. There was, in the other brownrider, something completely guileless: an eager and earnest affability reminiscent of the companion canines C'vir had encountered. He inwardly cursed himself, incapable of rejecting the rare opportunity for genuinely easy companionship he believed a candlemark or two with M'din would offer. The man was disarmingly nonthreatening on every conceivable level, and while he was already somewhat convinced he would soon regret his decision to be sociable, C'vir accepted the invitation with a nod. "May as well," he muttered, skeptical of the quality of his own judgment. It had been an off morning.
Sardonically, and without so much as a backward glance, he replied to Armath. Call him yourself. You clearly enjoy making noise. Both browns presumably taken care of, C'vir swept his arm toward the hut in a gesture of mock gentility, a motion intended to free M'din to lead the way.