And how was your evening, honey?
Setting: T'ral & Ginella's Weyr
Players: T'ral, Ginella
Synopsis: Backdated to the date of the scenes with Miniyal and Essdara, Ginella returns home to tell T'ral about her day.
It's late, and Ginella is just now returning to the weyr, not seeming surprised to find T'ral not yet at home. She has a basket over one elbow, which she sets on the table along with a cyndrilical container she pulls out of her satchel. The bag with its papers and such is set on the press at the end of the bed, and her coat is hung up before she moves to the hearth to poke the fire back to life. That accomplished, she sets water boiling for tea, then flops onto the couch to wait for the brownrider to return.
Perhaps Darageth has been watching, for T'ral is only a couple of minutes behind her. There's the sound of the brown landing, his quiet rumble as he greets Aneleth, and then the thud of T'ral hitting the ground. "Evening, Sunshine!" he calls out cheerfully, before he's visible, peeling off his jacket as he comes into view.
Ginella turns to look over up the back of the couch as Darageth lands and T'ral calls out, getting up by the time he enters. "Hey," she replies, with a more tired smile, "I've got us stew and muffins, and I put on water for tea. I forgot bowls, though," she admits, suddenly realizing. The table gets frowned at for a moment, and then she looks back up at him with another smile: "Good evening?"
"You are the love of my life, the dawn of my day, the delight of my heart, a jewel amidst dross," T'ral replies cheerily, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch as he walks over to her. "We can eat out of those giant mugs on the mantlepiece, those'll do. Very good evening, Sunshine. How about you?"
Ginella can't help but smile as he starts up with the crazy compliments, and gives in to a laugh by the time he gets to the end, "A -very- good evening, I see." He's managed to brighten her up with his good mood, and she nods at the suggestion of the mugs, turning and going up on her toes to grab them before meeting him around the side of the couch, up on her toes again to kiss his cheek. "Weird," she replies, after a moment's thought, "Let's warm the stew up and I'll tell you."
"Yes ma'am," T'ral replies, ducking his head so she can plant her kiss, and waiting until she's finished speaking before he makes his reply. This is because his reply silences her, taking the form of a long and involved kiss of his own. "Let me warm it up, you sit down and tell me what's made you so thoughtful, love."
Ginella has set back down on her heels and is already thinking about the stew when T'ral pulls her into the kiss. She's surprised for a beat, then leans up into it, faintly flushed when he lets her go. "Umm, yeah, okay," she replies at his suggestion, starting for the couch, then turning back to grab the basket of muffins and bring them over with her. They get set down on the coffee(klah?) table, and she starts untying her boots as she talks. "So, I was working in the records room earlier, and Miniyal -- you know her? Used to work in records, real quiet, sleeping with G'thon? -- Anyways, she came up and started talking to me about random little things she'd overheard at the wedding, about M'arik, and Coren, stuff like that."
"I know her," T'ral agrees. "She glared at us when we were in the records room," he continues walking over to inspect the hearth. "We were making quite a lot of noise," fairness evidently compels him to append. "I heard she was seeing G'thon. The strangest people pair up, don't you think? I mean, think of H'trel back at Benden, and that greenrider he was after, she must have been a good twenty turns --" He cuts himself short then, turning to regard her over his shoulder with a wink. "Your story, not mine, go on. So she came up for a gossip?"
"Wait," Ginella says, brows coming together as he speaks of getting glared at, "We've never -- not in the records room. I'd reme-- Oh, you meant you and the boys." She flushes just a little and nods, letting him go on. A strong nod as he calls the couple strange, adding a: "Very," before he goes on some more. The wink earns him a smile and she nods: "Basically, a gossip, yeah. Except she kept going on about how she doesn't like gossip, she just hears things, but she'd never pass on anything that wasn't true, she knows who to listen to, blahdeyblah... and then all of a sudden she was offering to spy for me and I hired her." She stills seems surprised by it, adding: "Tenetively."
"The boys," T'ral agrees, turning back to focus his attention on getting the stew over the hearth. He nearly drops the pot completely, hissing as his hands come too near the flames, and he straightens up abruptly, still holding onto the pot, so he can turn and face her. "Come again now, Sunshine? You did what?" He's openly surprised, and not entirely positive in his reaction.
Ginella can't help but wince, at his near drop or his reaction, or most likely, both. "She just -- she said she heard things, and if I wanted, she could keep her ears open while I'm away at Benden, and let me know when I've got back what she's learned. I think she does it for a lot of people," she says, "Sounded like she's got a regular business going."
"Right," T'ral agrees slowly. "I'm not sure that makes it better, Sunshine. How do you know she's not just keeping an eye on you for other people, and taking your marks for her efforts? I assume you're paying her." He turns away, reaching in once more so he can hook the stew into place, and rifling through the utensils on the mantlepiece for something to stir with. "What're you hoping she'll tell you?"
"I'm not either," Ginella admits with a faint frown that grows more pronounced as she shakes her head along with his questions. "I don't," she concedes, "I mean, all she knows is what I told her to keep her ears open for, so I suppose she can tell people what I'm interested in. Other than that... I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her. She said she'd tell me stuff when I got back from Benden, and if it worked, then we could arrange payment." She sits in silence for a moment, sort of blankly watching him fiddle with the food. "I don't really know," she admits. "I just... I feel like things are coming, stuff's going to happen, and I don't really know what it is or how to find out. Maybe this would help."
T'ral straightens up again, arching his back in a stretch before he rests one elbow on the mantlepiece, and applying himself to making sure the stew doesn't burn by repeated application of the spoon he's found. "I know, I know. There's a feeling, isn't there? Whenever there's trouble, it seems to end up here. I suppose you've got to start somewhere. I trust your judgment."
"There is," Ginella agrees with a faint nod, "With the exiles, and whatever's going on at Five Mines, and Roa and R'vain here, and..." She lifts a hand, and drops it again with a bit of a smack, "I need to be ready for whatever it is, but I don't know what to expect, or even where t'start, really. This opportunity comes along... I don't really know what to make of it. Me? Hiring a -spy-?" She laughs, shaking her head, "It's absurd. It'll probably backfire horribly somehow. I just... have t'do something. All these people here now because of me. I can't just sit and wait and see what happens to them. Plus, Headmaster said I've got to find a new role, and all that...." She trails off and shrugs again, looking up at him with a 'see why I'm confused?' sort of expression.
"Roa and R'vain aren't so bad. They're better than we've had in a long time," T'ral replies. "Well, J'cor was good." The fairness strikes again, requiring that addition. "But a man needs a dragon to do that job. Don't worry about it, Sunshine. You haven't hired anybody yet, you've just asked her to have a chat with you when you get home. Humouring the old man's bedwarmer, if you have to call it that in a pinch." He pulls a sympathetic face, studying her for a moment before he turns away to begin shovelling stew into mugs. "You've got to start somewhere. Want me to get D'ven and Br'ce up here for a drink, to talk it over? You know you can trust them."
"Maybe not, but they have ideas and plans, and that concerns me," Ginella says, "Having been in classes with Roa, and hearing what others say about her... I worry what her plans might be." She runs a hand through her hair, making a face at the mention of the old man and his bedwarmer, but nodding. "We'll see how it goes when I get back." The stew-shovelling is watched, and she gets up to grab spoons, and, after a second's thought, wine. "The muffins are nut and syrup," she offers, earning herself another minute to think over his offer. "I'd rather you didn't tell them," she says finally, "About Miniyal, I mean. I should talk to them more, I'll have to find time to spend more time with you all together, but... I'd rather they not know about that."
"I have got to get to know her better," T'ral replies, in response to his weyrwoman's words about Roa. "I don't have to tell them about Miniyal, but I think we should talk in general. They've got rank, they work with R'vain. If trouble comes, they'll both be involved. And they're Benden, like us, whatever they're doing here. They''ve still got our interests at heart, same as we have for them. So let's get them up here to have a think. Nari, too."
"I do, too," Ginella agrees with a nod, then: "Didn't you guys promise her a card game, or something, one time? We could have her up. I could play, too." She un stoppers the wine and pours them each a glass, looking up to nod as she re-corks it. "That's true," she agrees, nodding some more, "Yeah, that's true. That's a good idea. All right, let's do that, then. When I get back from Benden, I guess, most likely? I should go probably tomorrow or day after."
"Yeah, we sort of --" T'ral breaks off with a half-sheepish grin. "The one we play without any rules. You know, chess meets checkers meets poker meets fish meets cheat meets snap meets whatever else we can think of. She's still trying to work out the rules." He snickers, moving over to settle down on the couch. "When you get back. Head there tomorrow, she's getting pretty big to move."
Ginella laughs, "Oh goodness, you're putting her through that one? Well, let's do a game when I get back. I'd bet it will be fun." Presumably she, too, has been subjected to this particular joke at some point, and smiles as he comes to sit down, taking up her mug of stew and leaning against him. "She is," she admits, with a bit of a glance towards the ledge, "I guess tomorrow it is. Surprised you're not begging me to stay even that little bit longer, though," she teases, bumping him with a shoulder, "I think I should be insulted."
"Anything you like, Sunshine," T'ral replies with a grin. "We'll see if she can get the rules this time, or else we'll tell her." He wraps an arm around her, hugging her close so he can start eating, and probably inhibiting her ability to continue doing so. "A day in either direction doesn't make a difference," he replies, planting a kiss on top of her head. "I miss you when you're gone. Get there, get it over with, come home to me, okay?"
"It's a plan, then," Ginella agrees. She can't work her spoon with him holding her so close, but she doesn't seem to mind all that much, especially as talk turns to the impending separation. "I miss you, too," she replies, "It's so -long-. I hate it." There's a brief wrinkling of her nose in a pout, then she leans her head against him and sighs. "Maybe you can meet me at the Hold, sometime? Go have dinner with my family?"
"Once it's over and done with, that's it for ages," T'ral points out, trying for a cheerful tone, and missing slightly. He swallows at the mention of her family, despite the lack of a mouthful of stew, and it's a moment before he rediscovers his words to reply to her. "Right, yes, of course. That'd be nice, to see them." He doesn't sound as emphatic as he might.
"True," Ginella agrees, shifting to get an arm free so she can begin eating again. His pause and his tone get her to look up after she's swallowed, and give her head a brief shake: "We don't have to," she tells him, "If you'd rather not. It was just an idea, since you seemed glad we had, last time, and I don't know how else I'll get to see you... It's okay, though. They won't expect it, so if we don't...." She shrugs.
"No, no, it's a good idea, we'll go," T'ral agrees, giving her a squeeze as he releases her. "It'll be a nice surprise for them. Maybe we'll go somewhere ourselves first, have the chance to catch up. Can I have one of those muffins?" Preparation for the muffin requires the setting down of his wine, and the shifting of his mug. "Maybe after we've hatched here I'll come meet you there, D'ven'll be busy."
"Are you sure?" Ginella shifts as he releases her to be able to see his face, "We really don't have to if you don't want to. It would be nice, though," she agrees as he seems okay with it. The muffins are passed as she nods, "That's a good idea. Either before or after, or something. I hate the idea of not seeing you at all for that long." She takes a muffin of her own once he's had his pick, then sets the basket back, alternating bites with wine. "Sure, that's an idea," she agrees. "I'm sure there'll be some stuff going on at Benden, but not enough that I couldn't come meet you wherever, if you wanted."
"We'll work out a time. You should let them know a little in advance, your mother'll worry if she doesn't have the right food," T'ral replies, taking a muffin, then settling for two, one large hand big enough to hold them both. "So we'll make a time that suits." He pauses for a large mouthful of muffin, disposing of that before he speaks again. "Give Mari my love. Tell her to bring that son of hers here some time, so we can get a look at how big he is."
"Look at you, knowing my parents so well," Ginella teases lightly, "I'll see them and find out what suits, and we'll pick a date." She takes a bite of the muffin, nodding as she swallows and replies: "I will. Bet he's huge." There's a pause, then she adds: "Wish she'd just move here. All -your- friends moved here."
"Yes ma'am," T'ral agrees, around a mouthful. "You could ask Mars. She and K'mor might, you never know. Thing is, then they'd be here, and how long do you have left at Caucus? Bit under a turn and a half, right? Turn and four months or so? It could take them four to organise it, and then there's just the turn before you've got to try and uproot again."
"Can't -ask- them to pack up and move just because I miss her," Ginella replies with a shake of her head, "That's selfish. Guess that's right, too," she admits with a nod, "Not long, anyways. And who knows what I'd be asking them into. Benden's more stable." She finishes her stew and sits back against him, picking at the muffin. "Just sort of the principle of it, I guess."
"Well, you could talk about it. You can ask without assuuming someone'll say yes. Mari's not overwhelmed by Aneleth, she tells you what she thinks," T'ral replies lazily, polishing off a muffin, and beginning to shift his weight. "Want another mug of stew, Sunshine? You might be right. I tried to talk my friends into going back, I told them it was more settled there."
"I guess," Ginella replies dubiously, eyeing the stew before shaking her head. "No thanks." She sticks with the muffin, picking at it some more before running a hand up over her face and sighing. "I'm tired of talking," she admits, "And thinking. My head is just..." She gestures frustratedly with both hands (even the muffin-ful one), before letting them drop. "Tell me something you've been thinking, instead. Anything, I don't care."
T'ral hauls himself up, crossing the few steps to the hearth to load up his mug again, and swinging the pot clear of the frames. "Something I've been thinking," he murmurs, scratching his head. "Well, I've been thinking about R'vain, but talking about that requires you to think as well. What about, I've been thinking about when you might be able to beg off an overnight some time. We could put it right after one of my 'falls, and go somewhere safe for the evening. There must be somewhere isolated, one of the beaches. Stay the night."
Ginella shifts to let him up, breaking off a bite of muffin as he pours more stew. "About R'vain?" She considers for a moment, then nods, apologetic: "Can we talk about him in the morning? My head might explode. Sorry." Another bite of muffin, and his next topic has more of her attention. "Y'mean while I'm at Benden?" she asks, "Or just in general? Either way, I'd like to. We haven't been away in a while, seems like."
"In the morning, or when you get back from Benden," T'ral replies easily. "You don't know the answer either, and speculation doesn't help that much. I've alread tried it." He thumps back down with his refill of stew, and sets to demolishing it. "After you're done at Benden, when Aneleth can come away too. She won't like missing the beach. We'll just steal one night."
"All right," Ginella agrees just as easily, "I've probably got no idea, but I'd like to hear, anyways." She shifts to lean against one arm of the couch, stretching her legs out. "When I get back, then," she agrees with a nod, and a softer, more relaxed smile than she's worn for most of the night, "I'd like that." She wriggles her toes under the edge of his leg and sighs. "I said I was going to miss you, right?"
T'ral grins, lifting one leg just enough for her to get her toes in, before he applies himself to his meal once more. "You mentioned," he replies. "You just try and remember me while you're back there, living like a weyrwoman and remembering what that was like, mmm? Own weyr, own place, drudges showing up with breakfast every morning. There's something to look forward to. A bath."
"Giant bed, all by myself..." Ginny gives him a bit of a poke with her foot. "I know you don't want to hear it, but one of these days, you're going to have to come back with me. That bed's just too huge without you, and I can't believe you don't miss that bath as much as I do. The drudges with breakfast in the morning'll be nice, too," she adds thoughtfully, more to herself. Eyes wander to the fire as she sips at her wine, fiddling with leftover muffin wrapper.
"Make sure you keep it by yourself," T'ral laughingly enjoins her, reaching down to squeeze her foot. "Course I miss the bath, and the breakfast. I miss you in the bath, and I miss getting breakfast without having to get out of bed." Their talk continues, idle chatter, lazy words and endearments, as they make their farewells in their own way, for the time being -- and then, later, in a different sort of way, just as important. In the morning, she'll go back to the weyr they don't always call home, these days.
Players: T'ral, Ginella
Synopsis: Backdated to the date of the scenes with Miniyal and Essdara, Ginella returns home to tell T'ral about her day.
It's late, and Ginella is just now returning to the weyr, not seeming surprised to find T'ral not yet at home. She has a basket over one elbow, which she sets on the table along with a cyndrilical container she pulls out of her satchel. The bag with its papers and such is set on the press at the end of the bed, and her coat is hung up before she moves to the hearth to poke the fire back to life. That accomplished, she sets water boiling for tea, then flops onto the couch to wait for the brownrider to return.
Perhaps Darageth has been watching, for T'ral is only a couple of minutes behind her. There's the sound of the brown landing, his quiet rumble as he greets Aneleth, and then the thud of T'ral hitting the ground. "Evening, Sunshine!" he calls out cheerfully, before he's visible, peeling off his jacket as he comes into view.
Ginella turns to look over up the back of the couch as Darageth lands and T'ral calls out, getting up by the time he enters. "Hey," she replies, with a more tired smile, "I've got us stew and muffins, and I put on water for tea. I forgot bowls, though," she admits, suddenly realizing. The table gets frowned at for a moment, and then she looks back up at him with another smile: "Good evening?"
"You are the love of my life, the dawn of my day, the delight of my heart, a jewel amidst dross," T'ral replies cheerily, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch as he walks over to her. "We can eat out of those giant mugs on the mantlepiece, those'll do. Very good evening, Sunshine. How about you?"
Ginella can't help but smile as he starts up with the crazy compliments, and gives in to a laugh by the time he gets to the end, "A -very- good evening, I see." He's managed to brighten her up with his good mood, and she nods at the suggestion of the mugs, turning and going up on her toes to grab them before meeting him around the side of the couch, up on her toes again to kiss his cheek. "Weird," she replies, after a moment's thought, "Let's warm the stew up and I'll tell you."
"Yes ma'am," T'ral replies, ducking his head so she can plant her kiss, and waiting until she's finished speaking before he makes his reply. This is because his reply silences her, taking the form of a long and involved kiss of his own. "Let me warm it up, you sit down and tell me what's made you so thoughtful, love."
Ginella has set back down on her heels and is already thinking about the stew when T'ral pulls her into the kiss. She's surprised for a beat, then leans up into it, faintly flushed when he lets her go. "Umm, yeah, okay," she replies at his suggestion, starting for the couch, then turning back to grab the basket of muffins and bring them over with her. They get set down on the coffee(klah?) table, and she starts untying her boots as she talks. "So, I was working in the records room earlier, and Miniyal -- you know her? Used to work in records, real quiet, sleeping with G'thon? -- Anyways, she came up and started talking to me about random little things she'd overheard at the wedding, about M'arik, and Coren, stuff like that."
"I know her," T'ral agrees. "She glared at us when we were in the records room," he continues walking over to inspect the hearth. "We were making quite a lot of noise," fairness evidently compels him to append. "I heard she was seeing G'thon. The strangest people pair up, don't you think? I mean, think of H'trel back at Benden, and that greenrider he was after, she must have been a good twenty turns --" He cuts himself short then, turning to regard her over his shoulder with a wink. "Your story, not mine, go on. So she came up for a gossip?"
"Wait," Ginella says, brows coming together as he speaks of getting glared at, "We've never -- not in the records room. I'd reme-- Oh, you meant you and the boys." She flushes just a little and nods, letting him go on. A strong nod as he calls the couple strange, adding a: "Very," before he goes on some more. The wink earns him a smile and she nods: "Basically, a gossip, yeah. Except she kept going on about how she doesn't like gossip, she just hears things, but she'd never pass on anything that wasn't true, she knows who to listen to, blahdeyblah... and then all of a sudden she was offering to spy for me and I hired her." She stills seems surprised by it, adding: "Tenetively."
"The boys," T'ral agrees, turning back to focus his attention on getting the stew over the hearth. He nearly drops the pot completely, hissing as his hands come too near the flames, and he straightens up abruptly, still holding onto the pot, so he can turn and face her. "Come again now, Sunshine? You did what?" He's openly surprised, and not entirely positive in his reaction.
Ginella can't help but wince, at his near drop or his reaction, or most likely, both. "She just -- she said she heard things, and if I wanted, she could keep her ears open while I'm away at Benden, and let me know when I've got back what she's learned. I think she does it for a lot of people," she says, "Sounded like she's got a regular business going."
"Right," T'ral agrees slowly. "I'm not sure that makes it better, Sunshine. How do you know she's not just keeping an eye on you for other people, and taking your marks for her efforts? I assume you're paying her." He turns away, reaching in once more so he can hook the stew into place, and rifling through the utensils on the mantlepiece for something to stir with. "What're you hoping she'll tell you?"
"I'm not either," Ginella admits with a faint frown that grows more pronounced as she shakes her head along with his questions. "I don't," she concedes, "I mean, all she knows is what I told her to keep her ears open for, so I suppose she can tell people what I'm interested in. Other than that... I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her. She said she'd tell me stuff when I got back from Benden, and if it worked, then we could arrange payment." She sits in silence for a moment, sort of blankly watching him fiddle with the food. "I don't really know," she admits. "I just... I feel like things are coming, stuff's going to happen, and I don't really know what it is or how to find out. Maybe this would help."
T'ral straightens up again, arching his back in a stretch before he rests one elbow on the mantlepiece, and applying himself to making sure the stew doesn't burn by repeated application of the spoon he's found. "I know, I know. There's a feeling, isn't there? Whenever there's trouble, it seems to end up here. I suppose you've got to start somewhere. I trust your judgment."
"There is," Ginella agrees with a faint nod, "With the exiles, and whatever's going on at Five Mines, and Roa and R'vain here, and..." She lifts a hand, and drops it again with a bit of a smack, "I need to be ready for whatever it is, but I don't know what to expect, or even where t'start, really. This opportunity comes along... I don't really know what to make of it. Me? Hiring a -spy-?" She laughs, shaking her head, "It's absurd. It'll probably backfire horribly somehow. I just... have t'do something. All these people here now because of me. I can't just sit and wait and see what happens to them. Plus, Headmaster said I've got to find a new role, and all that...." She trails off and shrugs again, looking up at him with a 'see why I'm confused?' sort of expression.
"Roa and R'vain aren't so bad. They're better than we've had in a long time," T'ral replies. "Well, J'cor was good." The fairness strikes again, requiring that addition. "But a man needs a dragon to do that job. Don't worry about it, Sunshine. You haven't hired anybody yet, you've just asked her to have a chat with you when you get home. Humouring the old man's bedwarmer, if you have to call it that in a pinch." He pulls a sympathetic face, studying her for a moment before he turns away to begin shovelling stew into mugs. "You've got to start somewhere. Want me to get D'ven and Br'ce up here for a drink, to talk it over? You know you can trust them."
"Maybe not, but they have ideas and plans, and that concerns me," Ginella says, "Having been in classes with Roa, and hearing what others say about her... I worry what her plans might be." She runs a hand through her hair, making a face at the mention of the old man and his bedwarmer, but nodding. "We'll see how it goes when I get back." The stew-shovelling is watched, and she gets up to grab spoons, and, after a second's thought, wine. "The muffins are nut and syrup," she offers, earning herself another minute to think over his offer. "I'd rather you didn't tell them," she says finally, "About Miniyal, I mean. I should talk to them more, I'll have to find time to spend more time with you all together, but... I'd rather they not know about that."
"I have got to get to know her better," T'ral replies, in response to his weyrwoman's words about Roa. "I don't have to tell them about Miniyal, but I think we should talk in general. They've got rank, they work with R'vain. If trouble comes, they'll both be involved. And they're Benden, like us, whatever they're doing here. They''ve still got our interests at heart, same as we have for them. So let's get them up here to have a think. Nari, too."
"I do, too," Ginella agrees with a nod, then: "Didn't you guys promise her a card game, or something, one time? We could have her up. I could play, too." She un stoppers the wine and pours them each a glass, looking up to nod as she re-corks it. "That's true," she agrees, nodding some more, "Yeah, that's true. That's a good idea. All right, let's do that, then. When I get back from Benden, I guess, most likely? I should go probably tomorrow or day after."
"Yeah, we sort of --" T'ral breaks off with a half-sheepish grin. "The one we play without any rules. You know, chess meets checkers meets poker meets fish meets cheat meets snap meets whatever else we can think of. She's still trying to work out the rules." He snickers, moving over to settle down on the couch. "When you get back. Head there tomorrow, she's getting pretty big to move."
Ginella laughs, "Oh goodness, you're putting her through that one? Well, let's do a game when I get back. I'd bet it will be fun." Presumably she, too, has been subjected to this particular joke at some point, and smiles as he comes to sit down, taking up her mug of stew and leaning against him. "She is," she admits, with a bit of a glance towards the ledge, "I guess tomorrow it is. Surprised you're not begging me to stay even that little bit longer, though," she teases, bumping him with a shoulder, "I think I should be insulted."
"Anything you like, Sunshine," T'ral replies with a grin. "We'll see if she can get the rules this time, or else we'll tell her." He wraps an arm around her, hugging her close so he can start eating, and probably inhibiting her ability to continue doing so. "A day in either direction doesn't make a difference," he replies, planting a kiss on top of her head. "I miss you when you're gone. Get there, get it over with, come home to me, okay?"
"It's a plan, then," Ginella agrees. She can't work her spoon with him holding her so close, but she doesn't seem to mind all that much, especially as talk turns to the impending separation. "I miss you, too," she replies, "It's so -long-. I hate it." There's a brief wrinkling of her nose in a pout, then she leans her head against him and sighs. "Maybe you can meet me at the Hold, sometime? Go have dinner with my family?"
"Once it's over and done with, that's it for ages," T'ral points out, trying for a cheerful tone, and missing slightly. He swallows at the mention of her family, despite the lack of a mouthful of stew, and it's a moment before he rediscovers his words to reply to her. "Right, yes, of course. That'd be nice, to see them." He doesn't sound as emphatic as he might.
"True," Ginella agrees, shifting to get an arm free so she can begin eating again. His pause and his tone get her to look up after she's swallowed, and give her head a brief shake: "We don't have to," she tells him, "If you'd rather not. It was just an idea, since you seemed glad we had, last time, and I don't know how else I'll get to see you... It's okay, though. They won't expect it, so if we don't...." She shrugs.
"No, no, it's a good idea, we'll go," T'ral agrees, giving her a squeeze as he releases her. "It'll be a nice surprise for them. Maybe we'll go somewhere ourselves first, have the chance to catch up. Can I have one of those muffins?" Preparation for the muffin requires the setting down of his wine, and the shifting of his mug. "Maybe after we've hatched here I'll come meet you there, D'ven'll be busy."
"Are you sure?" Ginella shifts as he releases her to be able to see his face, "We really don't have to if you don't want to. It would be nice, though," she agrees as he seems okay with it. The muffins are passed as she nods, "That's a good idea. Either before or after, or something. I hate the idea of not seeing you at all for that long." She takes a muffin of her own once he's had his pick, then sets the basket back, alternating bites with wine. "Sure, that's an idea," she agrees. "I'm sure there'll be some stuff going on at Benden, but not enough that I couldn't come meet you wherever, if you wanted."
"We'll work out a time. You should let them know a little in advance, your mother'll worry if she doesn't have the right food," T'ral replies, taking a muffin, then settling for two, one large hand big enough to hold them both. "So we'll make a time that suits." He pauses for a large mouthful of muffin, disposing of that before he speaks again. "Give Mari my love. Tell her to bring that son of hers here some time, so we can get a look at how big he is."
"Look at you, knowing my parents so well," Ginella teases lightly, "I'll see them and find out what suits, and we'll pick a date." She takes a bite of the muffin, nodding as she swallows and replies: "I will. Bet he's huge." There's a pause, then she adds: "Wish she'd just move here. All -your- friends moved here."
"Yes ma'am," T'ral agrees, around a mouthful. "You could ask Mars. She and K'mor might, you never know. Thing is, then they'd be here, and how long do you have left at Caucus? Bit under a turn and a half, right? Turn and four months or so? It could take them four to organise it, and then there's just the turn before you've got to try and uproot again."
"Can't -ask- them to pack up and move just because I miss her," Ginella replies with a shake of her head, "That's selfish. Guess that's right, too," she admits with a nod, "Not long, anyways. And who knows what I'd be asking them into. Benden's more stable." She finishes her stew and sits back against him, picking at the muffin. "Just sort of the principle of it, I guess."
"Well, you could talk about it. You can ask without assuuming someone'll say yes. Mari's not overwhelmed by Aneleth, she tells you what she thinks," T'ral replies lazily, polishing off a muffin, and beginning to shift his weight. "Want another mug of stew, Sunshine? You might be right. I tried to talk my friends into going back, I told them it was more settled there."
"I guess," Ginella replies dubiously, eyeing the stew before shaking her head. "No thanks." She sticks with the muffin, picking at it some more before running a hand up over her face and sighing. "I'm tired of talking," she admits, "And thinking. My head is just..." She gestures frustratedly with both hands (even the muffin-ful one), before letting them drop. "Tell me something you've been thinking, instead. Anything, I don't care."
T'ral hauls himself up, crossing the few steps to the hearth to load up his mug again, and swinging the pot clear of the frames. "Something I've been thinking," he murmurs, scratching his head. "Well, I've been thinking about R'vain, but talking about that requires you to think as well. What about, I've been thinking about when you might be able to beg off an overnight some time. We could put it right after one of my 'falls, and go somewhere safe for the evening. There must be somewhere isolated, one of the beaches. Stay the night."
Ginella shifts to let him up, breaking off a bite of muffin as he pours more stew. "About R'vain?" She considers for a moment, then nods, apologetic: "Can we talk about him in the morning? My head might explode. Sorry." Another bite of muffin, and his next topic has more of her attention. "Y'mean while I'm at Benden?" she asks, "Or just in general? Either way, I'd like to. We haven't been away in a while, seems like."
"In the morning, or when you get back from Benden," T'ral replies easily. "You don't know the answer either, and speculation doesn't help that much. I've alread tried it." He thumps back down with his refill of stew, and sets to demolishing it. "After you're done at Benden, when Aneleth can come away too. She won't like missing the beach. We'll just steal one night."
"All right," Ginella agrees just as easily, "I've probably got no idea, but I'd like to hear, anyways." She shifts to lean against one arm of the couch, stretching her legs out. "When I get back, then," she agrees with a nod, and a softer, more relaxed smile than she's worn for most of the night, "I'd like that." She wriggles her toes under the edge of his leg and sighs. "I said I was going to miss you, right?"
T'ral grins, lifting one leg just enough for her to get her toes in, before he applies himself to his meal once more. "You mentioned," he replies. "You just try and remember me while you're back there, living like a weyrwoman and remembering what that was like, mmm? Own weyr, own place, drudges showing up with breakfast every morning. There's something to look forward to. A bath."
"Giant bed, all by myself..." Ginny gives him a bit of a poke with her foot. "I know you don't want to hear it, but one of these days, you're going to have to come back with me. That bed's just too huge without you, and I can't believe you don't miss that bath as much as I do. The drudges with breakfast in the morning'll be nice, too," she adds thoughtfully, more to herself. Eyes wander to the fire as she sips at her wine, fiddling with leftover muffin wrapper.
"Make sure you keep it by yourself," T'ral laughingly enjoins her, reaching down to squeeze her foot. "Course I miss the bath, and the breakfast. I miss you in the bath, and I miss getting breakfast without having to get out of bed." Their talk continues, idle chatter, lazy words and endearments, as they make their farewells in their own way, for the time being -- and then, later, in a different sort of way, just as important. In the morning, she'll go back to the weyr they don't always call home, these days.