A Brusque Minecrafter

Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of buildings, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves.

Stables and a smithy are settled on their own plots, while trees border the western edge of the meadow, and a faint outline of a fence can be seen to the north.

It's a cool mid-morning at Xanadu when a young green dragon drops a tall, broad shouldered passenger off in the meadow. The rider hands down a satchel to the man before they launch into the air and vanish *between* again. Iforian shoulders the bag and turns in a slow circle to try to locate where the other miners might be. One hand comes up to comb through his blond hair as he frowns at the world at large, looking for someone to ask directions of.

At this time of year, the meadow isn't quite as occupied as it might be in warmer seasons, but there is still the regular series of comings and goings, especially of crafters who don't need to be dropped off at the weyr proper. Since his duties as Comet Wingleader ended with handing in his knot, R'owan has another task that is so very different from paperwork. The tousle-haired rider is leaning against his bronze, hands gloved in wherhide as he studies scrolls on dragon anatomy. He's likely not touched these since his weyrling days. The arrival of the crafter has him look up momentarily, although it is the bronze who turns his attention in that direction more acutely. Nyunath puffs out breath that hangs in the air.

Spotting the bronze and rider, Iforian turns to head in that direction, "Can ya point me in the direction of the miners? I'm supposed to gather reports." His voice is only barely respectful, almost demanding, "I want to get this over with so I can get back home." Though, from the bag, it looks like he might be looking at having to stay for a few days before he can head back.

Perhaps it's some small grace that R'owan is used to dealing with all sorts. Disgruntled crafters were only just part of what he dealt with when he lead the delivery wing. Thus, the attitude doesn't surprise him much, although it earns few points. "The mines are out that way. Just follow the roadway away from the Weyr until you see signs of rockdust." He motions with a two fingers in a quick gesture. "Although if you're here for paperwork, you'd probably want to try the caverns." So much for studying - the bronzerider tucks the scroll showing the draconic skeletal system away into a bag at his side. "Who are you looking for? I might have some idea where they'd be at this time of day." He glances skyward, still resting in that relaxed fashion against his dragon. The bronze, on the other hand, sniffs at Iforian, his big pale nose stretching out.

Iforian names younger wherhandler, not looking pleased to have been ordered to put his own projects aside to come fetch paperwork from a kid that was lucky enough to be picked to have the chance at a wher. He looks over in the direction the shorter man gestures in, nodding once, "Thank ya." The mention of trying the caverns has him frowning slightly, but nodding again, "I'll look there, then." Then he can go get settled in with the other miners for the durration of his stay. Hopefully it's going to be a short one… For everyone's sake.

The name of the wherhandler isn't familiar to R'owan, and he shakes his head without any look of recognition. The minecraft is not one of his specialties. His stormy gray eyes taken in the bag though, "If you're going to be staying a few days, though, might want to make a stop with the steward and make sure there's a cot set up for you in the caverns." He's not the prying type, so there is no real interest in the reason for the miner's visit, but he does tend to be social, so some attempt at conversation is made, at least. "Is it just paperwork? I'm sure you could get one of the younger wherhandlers to give you a tour of the mines. It's bound to be more interesting than moldering hides."

"Thank you, anyway." The words are dragged out of Iforian grudgingly, but at least he does say them. There's a faint sneer at the thought of being bedded down in the caverns, "Thanks, but I'll just take some room with the miners." He nods at the question, shifting his weight impatiently, not much of a one for random conversation, "I'll probably do that. Just to make sure that things are going well." He bends a little, "Not that I've been in a mine since I was an apprentice, but I do know more than a little about structure."

R'owan shrugs one shoulder indifferently, not particularly caring where the minecrafter spends his evenings. "If you insist. Still, if you're here, you might as well enjoy the Weyr's hospitality while it lasts." Having lived here all his life, the bronzerider does have a bit of that weyr-pride thing going, believing some parts of Xanadu to be far superior to other places, especially the crafthalls. "I admit, I don't know much about the mines, myself. That was always more M'nol's thing. Guess I figured you lot spend most of your lives down there." At this point, Nyunath just about has his nose right next to Iforian, one huge whirling eye looking at him up close.

"No, we don't." Iforian's voice is slightly cold at that, "Some of us don't set foot underground." He takes a slow, deep breath and lets it back out again before continuing, folding his arms over his chest and shifting his weight again, "If you people have a tavern, I might stop in there later." He narrows his eyes slightly at the bronze's closeness, taking a couple of steps away, "Ya mind giving me a little room here?" He looks from Nyunath to his rider and back again, "I'm not that fond of being breathed all over."

"Guess it's not so strange. People used to think that runners either spent their time knee deep in muck or out on the trails. That wasn't true either." R'owan chuckles to himself, folding his own arms across his chest, but in a more relaxed manner. "There's a tavern. Pretty decent one, too." He might have said more on this, but the interaction between minecrafter and bronze draws a small smirk to his features. "Nyu, lay off." The bronze raises his head, giving a whuffle of sound and then turning to settle his head upon his taloned forepaws. "He says you smell strange. Not bad, just… strange." Once more, all the bronzerider can do is shrug.

News that there's a decent tavern gets a satisfied nod and the miner relaxes a little, apparently satisfied, "Good." Iforian gives the big dragon a wary, distrustful look, as he backs off, "Is that right?" He narrows his eyes a little, "And just how do I smell 'strange', huh?" Apparently, he doesn't like the idea of a dragon thinking that he smells odd.

R'owan is quiet for a moment as somethingg possibly passes between dragon and rider, the big bronze's one visible fasceted eye whirling faintly with hints of color beneath it. There is a flick of his tongue, almost lizard like, but the bronze is otherwise still and calm. "He's not sure." The rider finally replies, blinking as if clearing his eyes of something. "We don't get much chance to get out to the Minecraft hall. Even when I ran deliveries, that wasn't my route. Maybe it's just that it's someplace he's never been before. Who knows." Dragons are strange things, and the years he's had bonded to the bronze have only solidified this assumption. "Be glad there aren't eggs on the sands just now, otherwise you'd have to put up with far weirder antics from the dragons."

"Well y'all should go, then." At least then miners like Iforian wouldn't smell strange, anyway. The flick of the bronze's tongue has the tall man looking over at him warily once more, especially when mention of eggs. He grimaces faintly, "Remind me to stay away when there are eggs, then." It's one thing to be around dragons from time to time. It's something totally different to have them sniffing and flicking tongues at him. "My da's brute never did nothing like that around me…"

Ahh crafters. R'owan can't help but chuckle slightly and run a hand through his hair in that easy-going manner that seems so characteristic of bronzeriders. "Relax." He reaches out and pats the big bronze's hide, seeming more amused by the taller man's response than anything else. "Dragons are strange creatures sometimes, I wouldn't pay it too much mind. I promise he won't do a thing. Will you?" There is a moment where the bronze's head turns towards R'owan and the two meet eyes, but then the Nyunath settles his head again with a huff. "As for getting out to the minecraft hall, well, that won't be happening anytime soon." Pride shows briefly on the rider's young features. "I've got a little girl to take care of, so that means no more galavanting across Pern."

"Da rides brown at Iern." Iforian rolls his eyes, "He left Ma and us ten turns back. Ain't really spoke to him much since then." Doesn't make for a man that's very trusting of dragonriders anymore. He shrugs at the mention of the rider having a little girl, "Yeah, well, good for you." He turns to leave, "Good luck with that." Beat, "And thanks for the direction." At least he's mildly polite, anyway… He doesn't say another word as he heads off to find where the mines are to finish his task.

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