A Perfect Night
Unabashedly sappy. One summer night, late, Ginella and T'ral sit on their ledge, and share a moment. Thank you, Ginny, for so much amazing RP.
It is, very nearly, a perfect night. Late summer, and the night is warm. The stars stretch out overhead, unhidden by clouds, and the soft breeze is warm, for once. Darageth lounges just inside the mouth of his weyr, leaving his ledge clear, and that's where the picnic's set up. The pillows and furs and quilts from the bed have been hauled out to set up a makeshift couch, and there's a simple spread of things that can be eaten with fingers laid out, almost all gone, now. T'ral leans across to reach for the wineskin, and pulls out the stopper, refilling the glasses with a soft sound that breaks the silence. Setting it down again, he lifts an arm to sling it around his weyrmate's shoulders, and tilts his head to rest his temple against her hair, breathing out slowly. Very nearly, a perfect night.
"This is perfect," Ginny vocalizes the general air of the evening, words just a murmur as she turns her head in towards T'ral, to kiss his cheek. She reaches to pick up the wineglass and takes a quick sip, then cradles it in an upturned palm. Skirt is smoothed with an absent hand as she shifts her posture just slightly to lean more against the brownrider. "A really good idea," she adds, turning a smile towards him.
"Genius," T'ral agrees immodestly, his grin audible in his voice. "The sky's so clear tonight, Sunshine. Makes the stars look closer, don't you think?" He claims his own wineglass, and sips slowly, tilting his head back to swallow, and to look up at the place where the weyr wall above them swallows up the stars in blackness. "It just feels like we've fallen out of time. Fall yesterday, no drills tomorrow or the next day, no class for you tomorrow. World's asleep, except for us. I feel like they wouldn't wake up, even if we went and looked at them. We could tour all around the place, and see the whole world sleeping. Do you think Ista snores?"
Ginella grins at T'ral's reply, and bumps back against him a bit, then stays there, head against his shoulder. "It's beautiful," she agrees, shifting her head to follow his gaze up to the sky. She smiles as he goes on, sipping at her wine, and then nods, making a pleased noise, and chuckles. "I bet they snore terribly," she offers, "All the partying. And the humidity. It does weird things to -my- sinuses, at least. We can never live there, because I'd snore and you'd leave me," she jokes.
"We should wake up Ane and Dara, and creep around the place," T'ral muses, wrapping his arm more tightly around her, and squeezing her shoulder. "Switch things around while the whole world's asleep." He's lazy, relaxed, and whimsical, smiling at his own joke as he swallows another mouthful from his glass, and then sets it aside, so he can reach across with both hands, to see if he can coax her to turn towards him, and climb into his lap.
Ginella laughs, "Rearrange people's furniture?" She leans into the squeeze, "That would be funny. Until they all tripped over things and skinned their knees and blamed us!" T'ral reaches for her, and she comes easily, turning to swing her legs across his and slide up sideways into his lap, leaning against him again. "If Ane and Dara weren't sleeping, I'd say we should go flying," she says, "It's so lovely out... head down to the beach for a midnight swim, or something. If I weren't so comfortable here," she adds with a lazy smile, spinning the wine glass stem between her fingers.
"The works," T'ral agrees cheerfully. "Rearrange furniture, move everybody around." His arms wrap around her, one hand coming up so he can touch his fingertips to her cheek gently. "It's a nice night to go flying, but I want to be here with you." Silence for a few moments, before he continues absently. "Halfway through the turn, already. And we've a weyr full of Instigators, the world howling at our door. Students going home, and tomorrow I'll have another meeting with the Weyrleader, to try and think through all of --" He breaks off, shaking his head. "But tonight, the whole world's asleep, and it's perfect."
"Drag someone's bed out to the beach," Ginny offers with a grin, "Didn't your lot do that to someone when we were weyrlings? Or did you just threaten to?" She settles in close, putting aside her glass and wrapping her arms around his and nodding. "Here is just right," she agrees, before sighing faintly as he begins listing all the things that are wrong. "And I'm getting messages from Benden every day just about, and at some point I'll need to decide what I ought to be doing. Or at least how to explain to them that I won't under any circumstances leave here without you." She sighs again, grimacing faintly, and then smiles as he breaks off, and nods, tugging his arms closer, "Exactly," she agrees, tilting her face up with a smile, "Just perfect."
"It was a nice night when we did," T'ral protests mildly, fingers tangling through her hair. "Ignore Benden, tonight. Ignore the world. There's nobody out there, just us, and our food and our wine, and our weyr." He squeezes her, absently forgetting his own strength, as he so often does, and plants a kiss on her temple.
Ginella laughs. "I suppose I can condone that prank," she smiles, "Since it seems pretty funny. As long as he wasn't actually -in- the lake." She leans her head closer as he gets a hand in her hair, and smiles. "Gladly!" is the reply to his suggestion that she ignore Benden and the world at large, "I would all the time, if I could." She smiles, braces herself through the squeeze, and leans up to follow the kiss to her temple with one on the corner of his lips. "I liked that wine," she comments idly, "We should get more of that."
"Mostly not in the lake?" T'ral tries, optimistically. He reaches for his own glass, waits out her kiss, and then drains the last of his wine. "I'll see about getting a few more skins this seven," he replies, one big hand catching at the edge of their picnic blanket, and folding it over, tucking it under a ceramic jug, so the remains of their picnic won't blow away, should the wind rise. Hopefully, anyway. Then he shifts, and begins to gather up the quilt and pillows nearby, wrapping them in around the woman in his lap. "Let's go hide, just in case they wake up," he murmurs, pausing to kiss her. "I know just the place."
Ginella laughs. "I guess mostly is something," she concedes easily, turning as he does to pick her own wine glass back up and drink the remainder. "Good," she agrees with a nod, setting the glass back down on the picnic blanket he's folding. Then she shifts and tucks herself in closer as T'ral begins gathering things up, and smiles, snuggling in between his chest and the quilt and grinning. "Just the place? Four posts, comfy, lots of pillows and furs?" she asks with a joking smile, "I think I've been by there, before. Seemed like a nice spot."
"Can't think of one better," T'ral replies, climbing slowly to his feet, and straightening up with his arms full of quilts, pillows and weyrwoman. He glances up to the stars in the cloudless sky for a moment, then looks down to her, and ducks his head to kiss her. "Come on Sunshine," he murmurs, before he brushes another kiss against her lips, and turns in towards the weyr. "Let's go."
It is, very nearly, a perfect night. Late summer, and the night is warm. The stars stretch out overhead, unhidden by clouds, and the soft breeze is warm, for once. Darageth lounges just inside the mouth of his weyr, leaving his ledge clear, and that's where the picnic's set up. The pillows and furs and quilts from the bed have been hauled out to set up a makeshift couch, and there's a simple spread of things that can be eaten with fingers laid out, almost all gone, now. T'ral leans across to reach for the wineskin, and pulls out the stopper, refilling the glasses with a soft sound that breaks the silence. Setting it down again, he lifts an arm to sling it around his weyrmate's shoulders, and tilts his head to rest his temple against her hair, breathing out slowly. Very nearly, a perfect night.
"This is perfect," Ginny vocalizes the general air of the evening, words just a murmur as she turns her head in towards T'ral, to kiss his cheek. She reaches to pick up the wineglass and takes a quick sip, then cradles it in an upturned palm. Skirt is smoothed with an absent hand as she shifts her posture just slightly to lean more against the brownrider. "A really good idea," she adds, turning a smile towards him.
"Genius," T'ral agrees immodestly, his grin audible in his voice. "The sky's so clear tonight, Sunshine. Makes the stars look closer, don't you think?" He claims his own wineglass, and sips slowly, tilting his head back to swallow, and to look up at the place where the weyr wall above them swallows up the stars in blackness. "It just feels like we've fallen out of time. Fall yesterday, no drills tomorrow or the next day, no class for you tomorrow. World's asleep, except for us. I feel like they wouldn't wake up, even if we went and looked at them. We could tour all around the place, and see the whole world sleeping. Do you think Ista snores?"
Ginella grins at T'ral's reply, and bumps back against him a bit, then stays there, head against his shoulder. "It's beautiful," she agrees, shifting her head to follow his gaze up to the sky. She smiles as he goes on, sipping at her wine, and then nods, making a pleased noise, and chuckles. "I bet they snore terribly," she offers, "All the partying. And the humidity. It does weird things to -my- sinuses, at least. We can never live there, because I'd snore and you'd leave me," she jokes.
"We should wake up Ane and Dara, and creep around the place," T'ral muses, wrapping his arm more tightly around her, and squeezing her shoulder. "Switch things around while the whole world's asleep." He's lazy, relaxed, and whimsical, smiling at his own joke as he swallows another mouthful from his glass, and then sets it aside, so he can reach across with both hands, to see if he can coax her to turn towards him, and climb into his lap.
Ginella laughs, "Rearrange people's furniture?" She leans into the squeeze, "That would be funny. Until they all tripped over things and skinned their knees and blamed us!" T'ral reaches for her, and she comes easily, turning to swing her legs across his and slide up sideways into his lap, leaning against him again. "If Ane and Dara weren't sleeping, I'd say we should go flying," she says, "It's so lovely out... head down to the beach for a midnight swim, or something. If I weren't so comfortable here," she adds with a lazy smile, spinning the wine glass stem between her fingers.
"The works," T'ral agrees cheerfully. "Rearrange furniture, move everybody around." His arms wrap around her, one hand coming up so he can touch his fingertips to her cheek gently. "It's a nice night to go flying, but I want to be here with you." Silence for a few moments, before he continues absently. "Halfway through the turn, already. And we've a weyr full of Instigators, the world howling at our door. Students going home, and tomorrow I'll have another meeting with the Weyrleader, to try and think through all of --" He breaks off, shaking his head. "But tonight, the whole world's asleep, and it's perfect."
"Drag someone's bed out to the beach," Ginny offers with a grin, "Didn't your lot do that to someone when we were weyrlings? Or did you just threaten to?" She settles in close, putting aside her glass and wrapping her arms around his and nodding. "Here is just right," she agrees, before sighing faintly as he begins listing all the things that are wrong. "And I'm getting messages from Benden every day just about, and at some point I'll need to decide what I ought to be doing. Or at least how to explain to them that I won't under any circumstances leave here without you." She sighs again, grimacing faintly, and then smiles as he breaks off, and nods, tugging his arms closer, "Exactly," she agrees, tilting her face up with a smile, "Just perfect."
"It was a nice night when we did," T'ral protests mildly, fingers tangling through her hair. "Ignore Benden, tonight. Ignore the world. There's nobody out there, just us, and our food and our wine, and our weyr." He squeezes her, absently forgetting his own strength, as he so often does, and plants a kiss on her temple.
Ginella laughs. "I suppose I can condone that prank," she smiles, "Since it seems pretty funny. As long as he wasn't actually -in- the lake." She leans her head closer as he gets a hand in her hair, and smiles. "Gladly!" is the reply to his suggestion that she ignore Benden and the world at large, "I would all the time, if I could." She smiles, braces herself through the squeeze, and leans up to follow the kiss to her temple with one on the corner of his lips. "I liked that wine," she comments idly, "We should get more of that."
"Mostly not in the lake?" T'ral tries, optimistically. He reaches for his own glass, waits out her kiss, and then drains the last of his wine. "I'll see about getting a few more skins this seven," he replies, one big hand catching at the edge of their picnic blanket, and folding it over, tucking it under a ceramic jug, so the remains of their picnic won't blow away, should the wind rise. Hopefully, anyway. Then he shifts, and begins to gather up the quilt and pillows nearby, wrapping them in around the woman in his lap. "Let's go hide, just in case they wake up," he murmurs, pausing to kiss her. "I know just the place."
Ginella laughs. "I guess mostly is something," she concedes easily, turning as he does to pick her own wine glass back up and drink the remainder. "Good," she agrees with a nod, setting the glass back down on the picnic blanket he's folding. Then she shifts and tucks herself in closer as T'ral begins gathering things up, and smiles, snuggling in between his chest and the quilt and grinning. "Just the place? Four posts, comfy, lots of pillows and furs?" she asks with a joking smile, "I think I've been by there, before. Seemed like a nice spot."
"Can't think of one better," T'ral replies, climbing slowly to his feet, and straightening up with his arms full of quilts, pillows and weyrwoman. He glances up to the stars in the cloudless sky for a moment, then looks down to her, and ducks his head to kiss her. "Come on Sunshine," he murmurs, before he brushes another kiss against her lips, and turns in towards the weyr. "Let's go."