Dinnertime in which they talk of wine, a mother, and a greenrider.
Who: D'ven, G'thon, and Miniyal
Where: It's him! He doesn't let me leave! Ok, fine. Our room!
When: Dinnertime on day 12, month 11, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
What: The dinner invitation brings about dinner. During dinner much is talked of and hinted at and discussed. Eventually, however, things go too far. (But, really, it was /him/ that couldn't keep up the politeness this time!)
Note: Due to D'ven's having to depart and the lateness of the hour we closed the scene where we did. They DID NOT HELP me close it with their final poses. Men. . .useless.
11/28/2006 & 11/29/2006
At High Reaches Weyr, it is dinnertime on day 12, month 11, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
The dinner hour. The living cavern is full of people and noise, everyone enjoying the end of their day and the release from their duties. Down the hall where those allowed private rooms reside it's more quiet. A few people scurry about from here to there, but it's nothing like the press of people found elsewhere. Most of the doors are closed, but one is cracked open a fraction. This door leads into the room shared by G'thon and Miniyal. Duh. Inside there the table has been set and plates are covered to keep them warm. The kitchen usually does well when asked to prepare something special for those in this room and tonight is no exception. The air is filled with the scents of foods both sweet and not just waiting to be, well, largely untouched by anyone but the guest being expected.
Also inside would be the room's residents. Since things seem to be in order there's no reason for one of them to be pacing other than, well, it's her usual action before enforced dining with others. Around the room Miniyal goes, absently stopping to stare at this or that, but generally just working off nervous energy. Coming to a stop she looks over at the other occupant and shakes her head. "I thought this was supposed to get easier?"
Gans, for his part, is reposed with tea on the divan. "I thought it had become easier. You asked him yourself. You've been so graceful of late. And he's a good fellow. It will be fine." He raises his cup from the saucer it goes with, tips the rim a little toward his lover in a sort of toast - sillier, for the mischievous brilliance of his bright-eyed -look- at her - then sips. "Do you believe he's bringing anyone?"
D'ven is not bringing anyone, and has let Miniyal know as much. What he is bringing, however, is a very fine sweet wine intended to go with dessert. It's currently cradled in the crook of his arm like a baby as he walks through the corridors, arriving in front of the cracked open door. There's a pause, to let those inside register the footfalls have stopped and then he knocks.
"He's not bringing anyone." The answer comes before the knock at the door and Miniyal glances towards said door with a sigh. "Never, Gans. Always difficult." Shaking her head she tucks her hair behind her ears and then goes to get the door since she is the one already standing. Pulling it open she smiles politely at D'ven on the other side and then steps back, bringing the door open with her. "D'ven, right on time. Please, come in. Thank you for coming tonight." See how well she does? Wonderfully.
"I am never difficult," misinterprets Gans, intentionally, with droll and bemused intonation, a sparkle in those hazel eyes just for her, even as she goes to the door. Behind her he slides up to standing, taking a couple of steps forward from the divan as D'ven is revealed by the opening of the door. "So good to see you, D'ven. I believe you have already met Miniyal. Everything is ready - I hope you've an appetite." Traditionally, no one else here does.
"Thank you for inviting me, Miniyal." D'ven replies with an easy smile, stepping inside and holding out the bottle of wine to her. "It's good to see you too, G'thon. And yes, I have. On both counts." He seems utterly at ease, if somewhat more formal than is normal for him. "I hope you are both well?"
Since the bottle is held out to her, Miniyal takes it with a quietly murmured thanks. It is carried over to where dessert rests on the tea tray and left there. "It's my pleasure." To invite him. Little white lies to be social are allowed. "We're happy to have you here. Please, sit down. The door is left to Gans to close since she is across the room and all now. With so much to keep track of it can be excused she has no answer for being well.
Gans does the door-closing duty with a gentle press of pale hand, then returns to the main of the room with an eye for the wine Miniyal's taking. "You are too kind, D'ven. Might I ask where that's from?" There's an edge to the question, a smiling one, prescient. "- We are as well as might be expected. Miniyal, of course, is absolutely delightful, and I get on as I must in her shadow." This is all very drily put. He proceeds from there to the table, taking up a position behind a chair he'll be drawing back for the woman; the other seats are not particular in any visible way.
D'ven moves to a seat, waiting for Miniyal and G'thon to be ready to sit before he'll do so. "That's one of my own making, actually. I made it back when I was at Benden." There's something odd about the way he says that word. "Me and mine...rarely have cause for such a wine, so it's nice to get a chance to share it." There's a wry smile, he knows he dosn't need to elaborate on why that is.
"Gans!" Embarrassed. Pleased. Both of which have to be inferred from her voice because she ducks her head to partially conceal the blush that colors her cheeks. When the chair is pulled out she sits down with another quiet thanks. She doesn't say anything else until everyone is seated and then she shakes her head before glancing at G'thon. "You're supposed to tell the truth and I am hardly delightful." But she still sounds pleased so D'ven just has to put up with them. "I wasn't sure what you preferred as far as a meal went so I just left it up to Corin. She usually does alright in situations like these." Yes, she uses her mother as a personal chef. Why not?
With Miniyal placed at the table, Gans at last slides into his own seat, immediately reaching out to uncork a lesser wine that will serve them with dinner; D'ven's shall be saved for dessert. "I wondered if it might be," he tells the bronzerider, still droll. "We are doubly flattered, then. - And Corin's work is a gift to us all - remind me to thank her, Miniyal." A glance aside at his lover, meaningful only to them, and then Gans is offering tips of the opened bottle to glasses around the table. "I hope you have not depleted your supply too much, D'ven. Perhaps you and yours will have cause for celebration sometime."
"I'm sure it will taste wonderful, especially when enhanced by the company." D'ven replies with his usual easy smile, not seeming to mind the playful interactions between the lovers at all. "Perhaps, G'thon. But, I doubt we would do it with a dinner party." Watching as the glasses are filled, the bronzerider seems to relax a little more.
Stuck in the company of two men with too much charm Miniyal does what she always does. She sits quietly. Until she is not allowed to, but for now she retreats into silence. When her glass is filled she takes it up for a small drink before returning it to the table.
"No? Perhaps you would be willing to have a dinner party sometime after the proper celebrations, then, for those of us less up to speed on your current methods." There is exactly nothing about the mischief in those hazel eyes which suggests Gans is in the least not up to speed on current celebratory trends. He puts down the bottle when the glasses are filled, canting a little smirk Miniyal's way as she tastes from her glass; then his long hands are reaching out to uncover the platters and put serving utensils in alongside. "Do you mind if I let you help yourselves? I see no need to stand on ceremony with just us here."
D'ven smiles. "Oh, I think that would be very pleasant. Should I ever have anything to celebrate of that magnitude, I shall remember that." He too takes a sip of his wine, before replying "I think that sounds fine, G'thon."
Look! She's being ignored, well, she doesn't have to talk. This novel concept appeals to Miniyal and to show she is actually, yes, still paying attention she will make sure to offer this plate or that to D'ven that is out of his reach and on her side of the table. All without saying anything. Talk of celebrations don't really apply to her. She only does those sorts of things when dragged to them and so has not a thing to add at all.
"Then I shall leave you to it," replies Gans, leaving the utensils' handles pointing two ways, toward his guest and his lover, in no particular order; an overturn of one hand and a wriggle of pale fingers serves as all the further invitation to the meal he will make. "I suppose I must simply hope you will have some cause, then. It has been some time since our last talk; how have you fared since?" There should be no doubt that the old man has intent behind his words; he collects his wine glass and sits back in his chair, no effort at all going into the idea of having dinner, and over the rim of the glass he regards D'ven a little steadily.
Each and every time Miniyal passes him something, D'ven will give her a grateful smile. It's entirely possible to get on very well without speaking. Most of his attention is on G'thon, however. "I've been well, thank you. Yourself?" If he notices the intent, he dosn't seem to have much of his own.
Oh, she excels at getting along in silence. Somewhere between Gans not bothering with his food and D'ven helping himself is her. She puts a bit of this or that on her plate without doing much with it afterwards. Her fork moves around some, tracing lines, until she sets it down to take up her wine and drink from her glass. There is very nearly something said, but in the end Miniyal seems to change her mind and therefore is still quiet. Her gaze slides from one man to the other, watching the both of them curiously.
"Delightful." As he said, of Miniyal. Gans tips up his glass, indulges in a sip of the wine, then leans forward to release the glass onto the table. He keeps his eyes on D'ven; there is something of displeasure about them, but they remain bright enough that forgiveness cannot be far away. So here's the prompt: "And Roa?"
Noting the displeasure in the other man's eyes, D'ven smiles slightly at the prompt. "Roa was well, when last I spoke to her." Which from his tone is fairly recently. "Busy, but well. I'll be sure to tell her you asked after her when next I see her. Which will likely be in the next few days. We've been talking a great deal as of late."
Watching the interplay between the two men, Miniyal continues to sip at her wine and play with her food. When it becomes apparent that G'thon will not make even a token effort to eat dinner she makes the effort for him. Selecting this dish or that, similar only in that they have some sweet glaze or sauce, she transfers some of the food to his plate. Then he gets a stern look as she empties her wine glass.
"I haven't seen her outside of class for a little while. I'm certainly pleased to hear that you have." Something in Gans' peripheral vision distracts him a bit: ah. Miniyal is serving his plate. For her stern look she gets a crooked smile, grateful and charmed, from her lover; he leans forward to take up the wine bottle so he may refill her glass. "And your wing? The fellows from Benden? - And lady." Nari must not be forgotten. It might seem a little odd that Gans even knows them all well enough to pick her out - or not. He -was- weyrleader; perhaps old habits die hard. "I assume when you talk of celebration, they would be your crowd."
D'ven smiles. "Well, yes and no. They're very much my crowd, but...it's expanded a lot since I came here. I certainly couldn't be accused of creating a miniture Benden here." That seems very important to the man, and he lets it hang for a moment. "But yes, they're all well thank you. Coming along nicely. The Wing, I mean."
"I don't think anyone thinks that." She speaks! Miniyal doesn't look up as she speaks, but she does speak. Before taking a sip of her wine. Head tilting she looks first at G'thon to smile warmly before she turns her attention upon D'ven for a moment. "At least that is not what I hear and I do hear a lot. People would no more say that than accuse Roa of trying to make a second Telgar here."
"Of course not," adds Gans, harmony to Miniyal's first remark, to keep time with denying that D'ven could be considered to be creating a little Benden. And of course he shares that warm smile with his lover, and even - gratefully! - takes up his fork and pries off a part of sweet-sauced meat she's served him to eat. Perhaps there's some spice in the sauce, too, because he makes a little 'hem!' noise in the back of his throat, the least of tiny polite coughs, a split-second after Miniyal speaks again.
"Thank you, I'm pleased to hear it." D'ven murmurs, glancing at G'thon as he coughs. "But it's something I know was worried about when I came here. That Benden was trying to...take over. I like to think people have learnt that's not the case, but with the current situation. Well, it's something that does cross my mind occasionally as a worry." He seems to be enjoying the food without issue. Perhaps he's accustomed to spices.
"A good thing too I suppose considering what I heard. . well, anyway, I wouldn't worry about it." Miniyal smiles, all pleasant company. Bending her head she sees to her food for a moment, tiny bites of this or that that seems more designed to make a show of eating than actually consume very much. When she is done with that she takes up her glass for another drink of wine.
Gans recovers quickly enough and swallows the morsel he might have tried to choke on, then makes sure it's smoothly down with a sip from his wine. "I suppose the whole Weyr is a little anxious, given recent history. Still, I think our riders from Benden have done a noble job of integrating; the main problem I could foresee is the very fact that we do insist on calling them the riders from Benden." He pauses for another sip, leaning back into his chair; so much for food, for now. A level glance at D'ven accompanies, "Are there any of them who expect or desire to return?"
D'ven tilts his head in Miniyal's direction. "What is it you heard?" He asks politely, before considering G'thon's question. "Not at the moment. They're all happy here, and settled in well. But, to be perfectly honest, Ginella won't be here forever. When she returns to Benden, Tiv will want to follow. So we'll see."
Setting her wine glass down, half empty now, Miniyal looks at D'ven and smiles. "Now, D'ven. If I shared what I heard I'd be nothing but a gossip. You really don't think that's the sort of woman I am, do you? If that kind of talk got back to Roa I could lose my position." Smiling, almost teasing, she folds her hands in her lap rather than reach for her wine again. "It's hard not to refer to them as such, Gans. It's as if they're a single creature with many heads. Hard to separate them, I think, in the public eye."
"Tiv will, I suppose," replies Gans to D'ven, in a tone which implies absorbing rather than repeating information. He's luckier this time, with the wine already sipped and in his mouth before Miniyal comes out with her next observation; of course at his name he turns to look at her, so she'll have a good view of the arched brow he slings up at the many-headed creature analogy. "Indeed."
D'ven laughs at Miniyal's description of the Benden riders, before shaking his head. "I don't think you're a gossip, Miniyal. But it sounded relevant to what we were talking about. So surely it's alright to share?" G'thon's tone is noted, though he dosn't expound on what he said about T'ral for now.
"Well, no one really thinks I'm a gossip, D'ven. That's because, well, most people don't even really know who I am." And she /likes/ it that way. Expects it to be that way. Miniyal nods her head and then smiles. "Anyway, I'm sure I don't know anything that everyone else doesn't already. I don't really have connections to learn much of anything."
"I think D'ven might benefit from your concerns, Miniyal." Gans has looked away from her in this time, and comes now to regard, for a long moment, his plate. "If not now, perhaps some other time." He lifts his head then and looks up at D'ven; there may be some signal in that gaze, but all he does is put down his glass and take up a fork.
D'ven nods slowly. "Well, you don't really know without sharing." He comments thoughtfully, at the protestation she dosn't know anything. G'thon is given a long look back, the bronzerider trying to puzzle out what the other man is trying to tell him. "I think G'thon is right. I've been hearing various things from people recently, and I'm finding them quite...enlightning."
Miniyal's gaze flickers towards Gans for a moment and she responds like any adult. Once she's done sticking her tongue out at him she takes up her wine glass and empties it. "Word around the weyr is that something is up at Telgar is all." Shrugging her shoulders she takes up her fork and pushes food around on her plate. She's learned how to do that pretty well recently. "Or was up. You know how it is by the time things reach here. It's all jumbled. And hardly relevant. It was just a passing comment." One finger reaches out and nudges her wine glass. It's empty, you see.
Gans catches the nudge, and puts his fork down again. He's all too willing, really, to avoid eating. He takes up the wine bottle and refills Miniyal's glass. "Something's been up at Telgar for a couple of turns now," he remarks, and this remark has what is, for G'thon, an unusual tone indeed: Grouchy. He sets down the bottle, takes up his own glass, and leans back in his chair to fix a somewhat sour look on D'ven.
"Funny, all this talk of Telgar." D'ven remarks thoughtfully, sipping at his own glass. "I was over at Ista couple of days back." Why dosn't seem important, or at least isn't provided. "I have some...friends, over there, and I asked them how that girl was doing. You know, the one everyone's been talking about? Apparently this was the first they'd heard about that. I figure things must have got mixed up somewhere along the rumor chain." G'thon's look is returned with a quiet, thoughtful, one.
"Talk circles around. Was all about Igen not too long ago. At least those here. Was Benden for a little bit when we are invaded." Said with a grin over her refilled glass. A sip is taken and then Miniyal sets the glass back down and looks at D'ven. "Ah. I'm glad I know you were there so recently. That will change things." At G'thon's words she turns to him, ignoring their guest for a moment. "Only a couple? Funny, I got a different impression based on my research." Then she shrugs, really, it's her best gesture. Oh, look. More wine.
"S'lien," remarks Gans, and nothing else. He leans in his chair, crossing his legs again, the glass cradled in his long pale palm, and looks into the wine with an expression that matches his former tone: grouchy.
"Oh?" D'ven headtilts at Miniyal. "What does it change?" He asks curiously, until his attention is stolen away by G'thon's words. "Oh?" It's an invitation to expand, both verbal and in the look he gives the other man.
"All sorts of things. Really, a woman has to have her secrets." Miniyal tells this to D'ven with a smile before she turns back to G'thon. "It must be getting time for dessert soon, love. Something to sweeten your mood." There is nearly a laugh in her words, but she wouldn't let it escape.
"Oh," replies Gans, looking up at D'ven. He remains sour for a moment, ignoring Miniyal's suggestion, and takes a sip from his wine glass; that sip seems to improve him somewhat and he leans forward yet again to release it to the table. "The Weyrleader Telgar is a difficult personality. I had an enjoyable professional relationship with his predecessor; I was utterly unable to cultivate such a thing with S'lien." The former Reachian weyrleader gets to his feet, taking up his barely used plate, then leaning for Miniyal's and offering a hand for D'ven's, not taking it until permitted. "He and your own - forgive me. Benden's own I'zul. As far as I can tell, they're cut from the same cloth."
D'ven finishes the last of his food before handing G'thon the plate with a grateful smile. "I see." He replies thoughtfully. Something in his tone suggests this may not be the first negative thing he's heard about S'lien. "I must give my compliments to the chef. This really has been wonderful, and we havn't even had dessert yet."
"I'll be sure and let Corin know." Miniyal nods to D'ven and then smiles. "Or you really must tell her yourself. She would be just delighted to hear it from you. I'm sure she's quite tired of hearing me compliment her since I've been required to do so since I was a child." Watching G'thon gather plates she shakes her head. "Difficult personality. That's such a polite way of putting it. I hear the man is a complete ass."
A murmured thanks for the plate and Gans walks the two steps to the tea-cart; for tonight it takes the place of sideboard and service, and he stacks the plates on a lower shelf. "I would hope she is not yet tired of my compliments, my dear," he sends across the table toward Miniyal, while opening up a plate bearing a large glazed tart heaped with fruits and a pale thick cream. It has already been sectioned into four parts, and with a pie knife he moves three of them onto little plates. "The man is dangerous. Miniyal, will you take these, and I'll get the wine."
D'ven smiles. "I'll be sure to track her down and do exactly that." He assures Miniyal, watching as G'thon moves around sorting out dessert. "Dangerous." He echoes, as though commiting the word to memory.
Rising from her seat with a nod, Miniyal empties the wine in her glass before she goes to take the dessert plates. For her trouble she rises on her toes to brush a kiss across G'thon's cheek. "Doesn't make him less of an ass, love. Just makes him one to watch." Another of those shrugs as if she doesn't really care about the conversation. As she takes the plates to the table, giving D'ven his first she shakes her head. "We both know you've completely charmed my mother, Gans." Some trickle of amusement at the thought of D'ven talking to her mother has her smiling as she retakes her seat after laying down the other two dessert plates.
There is a singular chuckle Gans has for Miniyal's affection, or for her words, particularly perhaps the ones about her mother. He's off to reclaim the wine from where Miniyal stowed it then, and back with new glasses, proper for the variety. "I don't suppose either of you want to tell me a little more about this green that was at Telgar?" The glasses are set out on the cart and the bottle's uncorked; soon enough he's pouring three times. "If she wasn't from Ista, then?"
"Not much to tell. Nobody really knows." D'ven replies with a slight shake of his head. "Apparently she flashed images of an injured woman, till the queen mindlocked her again. Of course, there was all that talk of an exile being downed at Greenfields, attempting to return those stolen boys. But.." He spreads his arms wide. Who knows?
"D'ven is more informed than I." Hands folded in her lap as she waits for the wine, Miniyal eyes her dessert thoughtfully. "I don't know any more than him. Although I can't imagine, S'lien being so dangerous. . .that was your word, yes, love?" As if she didn't remember. "Well, anyway. If he had an exiled rider. . .I can't imagine he was very kind to her. Unfortunately it's all just rumor and conjecture at the moment."
Gans brings the wine to the table, two glasses easily stemmed in one hand and the third in the other. "It's conjecture and rumor and we're all talking about it as if it's gossip." Three times grouchy in one night: it's a record. The mask of perfect politesse is almost entirely discarded - almost. He can still provide wine, and enjoy dessert, so he places a glass before D'ven first, Miniyal next, his own place last; then he settles into his seat. A sigh, which seems to lighten his mood. "No one knows what green? No one got a name?"
D'ven shakes his head. "No name that I've heard." He replies softly, watching thoughtfully as G'thon sorts out the glasses. "I'm sure it will all sorted out in time. S'lien won't want to appear...in a bad light, so I imagine as soon as he hears things got jumbled up there'll be some sort of announcement that clears things up." His words are chosen carefully.
"Oh, for the love of. . ." Well, come on. At some point she was going to do this. It was only a matter of time. "Word is that S'lien kept an Instigator under wraps for two weeks. Tortured her and sent her home. And now this rumor is going around because someone thinks it's the best way to handle it instead of just confronting the right people with it and getting the truth. Which really only gives time, if it's true, for those responsible to escape punishment. Or come up with a more concrete story that is believable by those who don't want to believe that once again the people who are supposed to be our leaders have decided that it is quite alright to make others suffer for their own reasons, none of which are going to be good." Miniyal falls silent and takes a drink. Yes, wine now. That is good.
Gans has similarly had about enough - but he is, and this should be marked in a history book somewhere, less wordy about it. "Roa told you." His turn to pick up D'ven's handcrafted wine for a sip.
D'ven seems very unsure of what to say to that, nodding in silent thought for a short while. "That would indeed be the size of it." He finally speaks, though it's unclear exactly which person he's responding to.
Having had enough of the whole thing, Miniyal takes up her fork to try her dessert. "I think she outdid herself and it does compliment the wine." Turning to D'ven she smiles cheerfully. "Thank you so much for bringing it." And from there she will, with surprising deftness, turn the conversation to something less charged. Simply by not letting anyone talk about anything but what she brings up. With G'thon it's easily enough done, she knows him that well. With D'ven she will just flatter his ego and talk wine and other alcohols with him. She does know enough about them. Dessert, alas, will be cut short enough because she can only keep it up for so long and soon enough she'll show D'ven the door with many thanks for coming by.
Where: It's him! He doesn't let me leave! Ok, fine. Our room!
When: Dinnertime on day 12, month 11, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
What: The dinner invitation brings about dinner. During dinner much is talked of and hinted at and discussed. Eventually, however, things go too far. (But, really, it was /him/ that couldn't keep up the politeness this time!)
Note: Due to D'ven's having to depart and the lateness of the hour we closed the scene where we did. They DID NOT HELP me close it with their final poses. Men. . .useless.
11/28/2006 & 11/29/2006
At High Reaches Weyr, it is dinnertime on day 12, month 11, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
The dinner hour. The living cavern is full of people and noise, everyone enjoying the end of their day and the release from their duties. Down the hall where those allowed private rooms reside it's more quiet. A few people scurry about from here to there, but it's nothing like the press of people found elsewhere. Most of the doors are closed, but one is cracked open a fraction. This door leads into the room shared by G'thon and Miniyal. Duh. Inside there the table has been set and plates are covered to keep them warm. The kitchen usually does well when asked to prepare something special for those in this room and tonight is no exception. The air is filled with the scents of foods both sweet and not just waiting to be, well, largely untouched by anyone but the guest being expected.
Also inside would be the room's residents. Since things seem to be in order there's no reason for one of them to be pacing other than, well, it's her usual action before enforced dining with others. Around the room Miniyal goes, absently stopping to stare at this or that, but generally just working off nervous energy. Coming to a stop she looks over at the other occupant and shakes her head. "I thought this was supposed to get easier?"
Gans, for his part, is reposed with tea on the divan. "I thought it had become easier. You asked him yourself. You've been so graceful of late. And he's a good fellow. It will be fine." He raises his cup from the saucer it goes with, tips the rim a little toward his lover in a sort of toast - sillier, for the mischievous brilliance of his bright-eyed -look- at her - then sips. "Do you believe he's bringing anyone?"
D'ven is not bringing anyone, and has let Miniyal know as much. What he is bringing, however, is a very fine sweet wine intended to go with dessert. It's currently cradled in the crook of his arm like a baby as he walks through the corridors, arriving in front of the cracked open door. There's a pause, to let those inside register the footfalls have stopped and then he knocks.
"He's not bringing anyone." The answer comes before the knock at the door and Miniyal glances towards said door with a sigh. "Never, Gans. Always difficult." Shaking her head she tucks her hair behind her ears and then goes to get the door since she is the one already standing. Pulling it open she smiles politely at D'ven on the other side and then steps back, bringing the door open with her. "D'ven, right on time. Please, come in. Thank you for coming tonight." See how well she does? Wonderfully.
"I am never difficult," misinterprets Gans, intentionally, with droll and bemused intonation, a sparkle in those hazel eyes just for her, even as she goes to the door. Behind her he slides up to standing, taking a couple of steps forward from the divan as D'ven is revealed by the opening of the door. "So good to see you, D'ven. I believe you have already met Miniyal. Everything is ready - I hope you've an appetite." Traditionally, no one else here does.
"Thank you for inviting me, Miniyal." D'ven replies with an easy smile, stepping inside and holding out the bottle of wine to her. "It's good to see you too, G'thon. And yes, I have. On both counts." He seems utterly at ease, if somewhat more formal than is normal for him. "I hope you are both well?"
Since the bottle is held out to her, Miniyal takes it with a quietly murmured thanks. It is carried over to where dessert rests on the tea tray and left there. "It's my pleasure." To invite him. Little white lies to be social are allowed. "We're happy to have you here. Please, sit down. The door is left to Gans to close since she is across the room and all now. With so much to keep track of it can be excused she has no answer for being well.
Gans does the door-closing duty with a gentle press of pale hand, then returns to the main of the room with an eye for the wine Miniyal's taking. "You are too kind, D'ven. Might I ask where that's from?" There's an edge to the question, a smiling one, prescient. "- We are as well as might be expected. Miniyal, of course, is absolutely delightful, and I get on as I must in her shadow." This is all very drily put. He proceeds from there to the table, taking up a position behind a chair he'll be drawing back for the woman; the other seats are not particular in any visible way.
D'ven moves to a seat, waiting for Miniyal and G'thon to be ready to sit before he'll do so. "That's one of my own making, actually. I made it back when I was at Benden." There's something odd about the way he says that word. "Me and mine...rarely have cause for such a wine, so it's nice to get a chance to share it." There's a wry smile, he knows he dosn't need to elaborate on why that is.
"Gans!" Embarrassed. Pleased. Both of which have to be inferred from her voice because she ducks her head to partially conceal the blush that colors her cheeks. When the chair is pulled out she sits down with another quiet thanks. She doesn't say anything else until everyone is seated and then she shakes her head before glancing at G'thon. "You're supposed to tell the truth and I am hardly delightful." But she still sounds pleased so D'ven just has to put up with them. "I wasn't sure what you preferred as far as a meal went so I just left it up to Corin. She usually does alright in situations like these." Yes, she uses her mother as a personal chef. Why not?
With Miniyal placed at the table, Gans at last slides into his own seat, immediately reaching out to uncork a lesser wine that will serve them with dinner; D'ven's shall be saved for dessert. "I wondered if it might be," he tells the bronzerider, still droll. "We are doubly flattered, then. - And Corin's work is a gift to us all - remind me to thank her, Miniyal." A glance aside at his lover, meaningful only to them, and then Gans is offering tips of the opened bottle to glasses around the table. "I hope you have not depleted your supply too much, D'ven. Perhaps you and yours will have cause for celebration sometime."
"I'm sure it will taste wonderful, especially when enhanced by the company." D'ven replies with his usual easy smile, not seeming to mind the playful interactions between the lovers at all. "Perhaps, G'thon. But, I doubt we would do it with a dinner party." Watching as the glasses are filled, the bronzerider seems to relax a little more.
Stuck in the company of two men with too much charm Miniyal does what she always does. She sits quietly. Until she is not allowed to, but for now she retreats into silence. When her glass is filled she takes it up for a small drink before returning it to the table.
"No? Perhaps you would be willing to have a dinner party sometime after the proper celebrations, then, for those of us less up to speed on your current methods." There is exactly nothing about the mischief in those hazel eyes which suggests Gans is in the least not up to speed on current celebratory trends. He puts down the bottle when the glasses are filled, canting a little smirk Miniyal's way as she tastes from her glass; then his long hands are reaching out to uncover the platters and put serving utensils in alongside. "Do you mind if I let you help yourselves? I see no need to stand on ceremony with just us here."
D'ven smiles. "Oh, I think that would be very pleasant. Should I ever have anything to celebrate of that magnitude, I shall remember that." He too takes a sip of his wine, before replying "I think that sounds fine, G'thon."
Look! She's being ignored, well, she doesn't have to talk. This novel concept appeals to Miniyal and to show she is actually, yes, still paying attention she will make sure to offer this plate or that to D'ven that is out of his reach and on her side of the table. All without saying anything. Talk of celebrations don't really apply to her. She only does those sorts of things when dragged to them and so has not a thing to add at all.
"Then I shall leave you to it," replies Gans, leaving the utensils' handles pointing two ways, toward his guest and his lover, in no particular order; an overturn of one hand and a wriggle of pale fingers serves as all the further invitation to the meal he will make. "I suppose I must simply hope you will have some cause, then. It has been some time since our last talk; how have you fared since?" There should be no doubt that the old man has intent behind his words; he collects his wine glass and sits back in his chair, no effort at all going into the idea of having dinner, and over the rim of the glass he regards D'ven a little steadily.
Each and every time Miniyal passes him something, D'ven will give her a grateful smile. It's entirely possible to get on very well without speaking. Most of his attention is on G'thon, however. "I've been well, thank you. Yourself?" If he notices the intent, he dosn't seem to have much of his own.
Oh, she excels at getting along in silence. Somewhere between Gans not bothering with his food and D'ven helping himself is her. She puts a bit of this or that on her plate without doing much with it afterwards. Her fork moves around some, tracing lines, until she sets it down to take up her wine and drink from her glass. There is very nearly something said, but in the end Miniyal seems to change her mind and therefore is still quiet. Her gaze slides from one man to the other, watching the both of them curiously.
"Delightful." As he said, of Miniyal. Gans tips up his glass, indulges in a sip of the wine, then leans forward to release the glass onto the table. He keeps his eyes on D'ven; there is something of displeasure about them, but they remain bright enough that forgiveness cannot be far away. So here's the prompt: "And Roa?"
Noting the displeasure in the other man's eyes, D'ven smiles slightly at the prompt. "Roa was well, when last I spoke to her." Which from his tone is fairly recently. "Busy, but well. I'll be sure to tell her you asked after her when next I see her. Which will likely be in the next few days. We've been talking a great deal as of late."
Watching the interplay between the two men, Miniyal continues to sip at her wine and play with her food. When it becomes apparent that G'thon will not make even a token effort to eat dinner she makes the effort for him. Selecting this dish or that, similar only in that they have some sweet glaze or sauce, she transfers some of the food to his plate. Then he gets a stern look as she empties her wine glass.
"I haven't seen her outside of class for a little while. I'm certainly pleased to hear that you have." Something in Gans' peripheral vision distracts him a bit: ah. Miniyal is serving his plate. For her stern look she gets a crooked smile, grateful and charmed, from her lover; he leans forward to take up the wine bottle so he may refill her glass. "And your wing? The fellows from Benden? - And lady." Nari must not be forgotten. It might seem a little odd that Gans even knows them all well enough to pick her out - or not. He -was- weyrleader; perhaps old habits die hard. "I assume when you talk of celebration, they would be your crowd."
D'ven smiles. "Well, yes and no. They're very much my crowd, but...it's expanded a lot since I came here. I certainly couldn't be accused of creating a miniture Benden here." That seems very important to the man, and he lets it hang for a moment. "But yes, they're all well thank you. Coming along nicely. The Wing, I mean."
"I don't think anyone thinks that." She speaks! Miniyal doesn't look up as she speaks, but she does speak. Before taking a sip of her wine. Head tilting she looks first at G'thon to smile warmly before she turns her attention upon D'ven for a moment. "At least that is not what I hear and I do hear a lot. People would no more say that than accuse Roa of trying to make a second Telgar here."
"Of course not," adds Gans, harmony to Miniyal's first remark, to keep time with denying that D'ven could be considered to be creating a little Benden. And of course he shares that warm smile with his lover, and even - gratefully! - takes up his fork and pries off a part of sweet-sauced meat she's served him to eat. Perhaps there's some spice in the sauce, too, because he makes a little 'hem!' noise in the back of his throat, the least of tiny polite coughs, a split-second after Miniyal speaks again.
"Thank you, I'm pleased to hear it." D'ven murmurs, glancing at G'thon as he coughs. "But it's something I know was worried about when I came here. That Benden was trying to...take over. I like to think people have learnt that's not the case, but with the current situation. Well, it's something that does cross my mind occasionally as a worry." He seems to be enjoying the food without issue. Perhaps he's accustomed to spices.
"A good thing too I suppose considering what I heard. . well, anyway, I wouldn't worry about it." Miniyal smiles, all pleasant company. Bending her head she sees to her food for a moment, tiny bites of this or that that seems more designed to make a show of eating than actually consume very much. When she is done with that she takes up her glass for another drink of wine.
Gans recovers quickly enough and swallows the morsel he might have tried to choke on, then makes sure it's smoothly down with a sip from his wine. "I suppose the whole Weyr is a little anxious, given recent history. Still, I think our riders from Benden have done a noble job of integrating; the main problem I could foresee is the very fact that we do insist on calling them the riders from Benden." He pauses for another sip, leaning back into his chair; so much for food, for now. A level glance at D'ven accompanies, "Are there any of them who expect or desire to return?"
D'ven tilts his head in Miniyal's direction. "What is it you heard?" He asks politely, before considering G'thon's question. "Not at the moment. They're all happy here, and settled in well. But, to be perfectly honest, Ginella won't be here forever. When she returns to Benden, Tiv will want to follow. So we'll see."
Setting her wine glass down, half empty now, Miniyal looks at D'ven and smiles. "Now, D'ven. If I shared what I heard I'd be nothing but a gossip. You really don't think that's the sort of woman I am, do you? If that kind of talk got back to Roa I could lose my position." Smiling, almost teasing, she folds her hands in her lap rather than reach for her wine again. "It's hard not to refer to them as such, Gans. It's as if they're a single creature with many heads. Hard to separate them, I think, in the public eye."
"Tiv will, I suppose," replies Gans to D'ven, in a tone which implies absorbing rather than repeating information. He's luckier this time, with the wine already sipped and in his mouth before Miniyal comes out with her next observation; of course at his name he turns to look at her, so she'll have a good view of the arched brow he slings up at the many-headed creature analogy. "Indeed."
D'ven laughs at Miniyal's description of the Benden riders, before shaking his head. "I don't think you're a gossip, Miniyal. But it sounded relevant to what we were talking about. So surely it's alright to share?" G'thon's tone is noted, though he dosn't expound on what he said about T'ral for now.
"Well, no one really thinks I'm a gossip, D'ven. That's because, well, most people don't even really know who I am." And she /likes/ it that way. Expects it to be that way. Miniyal nods her head and then smiles. "Anyway, I'm sure I don't know anything that everyone else doesn't already. I don't really have connections to learn much of anything."
"I think D'ven might benefit from your concerns, Miniyal." Gans has looked away from her in this time, and comes now to regard, for a long moment, his plate. "If not now, perhaps some other time." He lifts his head then and looks up at D'ven; there may be some signal in that gaze, but all he does is put down his glass and take up a fork.
D'ven nods slowly. "Well, you don't really know without sharing." He comments thoughtfully, at the protestation she dosn't know anything. G'thon is given a long look back, the bronzerider trying to puzzle out what the other man is trying to tell him. "I think G'thon is right. I've been hearing various things from people recently, and I'm finding them quite...enlightning."
Miniyal's gaze flickers towards Gans for a moment and she responds like any adult. Once she's done sticking her tongue out at him she takes up her wine glass and empties it. "Word around the weyr is that something is up at Telgar is all." Shrugging her shoulders she takes up her fork and pushes food around on her plate. She's learned how to do that pretty well recently. "Or was up. You know how it is by the time things reach here. It's all jumbled. And hardly relevant. It was just a passing comment." One finger reaches out and nudges her wine glass. It's empty, you see.
Gans catches the nudge, and puts his fork down again. He's all too willing, really, to avoid eating. He takes up the wine bottle and refills Miniyal's glass. "Something's been up at Telgar for a couple of turns now," he remarks, and this remark has what is, for G'thon, an unusual tone indeed: Grouchy. He sets down the bottle, takes up his own glass, and leans back in his chair to fix a somewhat sour look on D'ven.
"Funny, all this talk of Telgar." D'ven remarks thoughtfully, sipping at his own glass. "I was over at Ista couple of days back." Why dosn't seem important, or at least isn't provided. "I have some...friends, over there, and I asked them how that girl was doing. You know, the one everyone's been talking about? Apparently this was the first they'd heard about that. I figure things must have got mixed up somewhere along the rumor chain." G'thon's look is returned with a quiet, thoughtful, one.
"Talk circles around. Was all about Igen not too long ago. At least those here. Was Benden for a little bit when we are invaded." Said with a grin over her refilled glass. A sip is taken and then Miniyal sets the glass back down and looks at D'ven. "Ah. I'm glad I know you were there so recently. That will change things." At G'thon's words she turns to him, ignoring their guest for a moment. "Only a couple? Funny, I got a different impression based on my research." Then she shrugs, really, it's her best gesture. Oh, look. More wine.
"S'lien," remarks Gans, and nothing else. He leans in his chair, crossing his legs again, the glass cradled in his long pale palm, and looks into the wine with an expression that matches his former tone: grouchy.
"Oh?" D'ven headtilts at Miniyal. "What does it change?" He asks curiously, until his attention is stolen away by G'thon's words. "Oh?" It's an invitation to expand, both verbal and in the look he gives the other man.
"All sorts of things. Really, a woman has to have her secrets." Miniyal tells this to D'ven with a smile before she turns back to G'thon. "It must be getting time for dessert soon, love. Something to sweeten your mood." There is nearly a laugh in her words, but she wouldn't let it escape.
"Oh," replies Gans, looking up at D'ven. He remains sour for a moment, ignoring Miniyal's suggestion, and takes a sip from his wine glass; that sip seems to improve him somewhat and he leans forward yet again to release it to the table. "The Weyrleader Telgar is a difficult personality. I had an enjoyable professional relationship with his predecessor; I was utterly unable to cultivate such a thing with S'lien." The former Reachian weyrleader gets to his feet, taking up his barely used plate, then leaning for Miniyal's and offering a hand for D'ven's, not taking it until permitted. "He and your own - forgive me. Benden's own I'zul. As far as I can tell, they're cut from the same cloth."
D'ven finishes the last of his food before handing G'thon the plate with a grateful smile. "I see." He replies thoughtfully. Something in his tone suggests this may not be the first negative thing he's heard about S'lien. "I must give my compliments to the chef. This really has been wonderful, and we havn't even had dessert yet."
"I'll be sure and let Corin know." Miniyal nods to D'ven and then smiles. "Or you really must tell her yourself. She would be just delighted to hear it from you. I'm sure she's quite tired of hearing me compliment her since I've been required to do so since I was a child." Watching G'thon gather plates she shakes her head. "Difficult personality. That's such a polite way of putting it. I hear the man is a complete ass."
A murmured thanks for the plate and Gans walks the two steps to the tea-cart; for tonight it takes the place of sideboard and service, and he stacks the plates on a lower shelf. "I would hope she is not yet tired of my compliments, my dear," he sends across the table toward Miniyal, while opening up a plate bearing a large glazed tart heaped with fruits and a pale thick cream. It has already been sectioned into four parts, and with a pie knife he moves three of them onto little plates. "The man is dangerous. Miniyal, will you take these, and I'll get the wine."
D'ven smiles. "I'll be sure to track her down and do exactly that." He assures Miniyal, watching as G'thon moves around sorting out dessert. "Dangerous." He echoes, as though commiting the word to memory.
Rising from her seat with a nod, Miniyal empties the wine in her glass before she goes to take the dessert plates. For her trouble she rises on her toes to brush a kiss across G'thon's cheek. "Doesn't make him less of an ass, love. Just makes him one to watch." Another of those shrugs as if she doesn't really care about the conversation. As she takes the plates to the table, giving D'ven his first she shakes her head. "We both know you've completely charmed my mother, Gans." Some trickle of amusement at the thought of D'ven talking to her mother has her smiling as she retakes her seat after laying down the other two dessert plates.
There is a singular chuckle Gans has for Miniyal's affection, or for her words, particularly perhaps the ones about her mother. He's off to reclaim the wine from where Miniyal stowed it then, and back with new glasses, proper for the variety. "I don't suppose either of you want to tell me a little more about this green that was at Telgar?" The glasses are set out on the cart and the bottle's uncorked; soon enough he's pouring three times. "If she wasn't from Ista, then?"
"Not much to tell. Nobody really knows." D'ven replies with a slight shake of his head. "Apparently she flashed images of an injured woman, till the queen mindlocked her again. Of course, there was all that talk of an exile being downed at Greenfields, attempting to return those stolen boys. But.." He spreads his arms wide. Who knows?
"D'ven is more informed than I." Hands folded in her lap as she waits for the wine, Miniyal eyes her dessert thoughtfully. "I don't know any more than him. Although I can't imagine, S'lien being so dangerous. . .that was your word, yes, love?" As if she didn't remember. "Well, anyway. If he had an exiled rider. . .I can't imagine he was very kind to her. Unfortunately it's all just rumor and conjecture at the moment."
Gans brings the wine to the table, two glasses easily stemmed in one hand and the third in the other. "It's conjecture and rumor and we're all talking about it as if it's gossip." Three times grouchy in one night: it's a record. The mask of perfect politesse is almost entirely discarded - almost. He can still provide wine, and enjoy dessert, so he places a glass before D'ven first, Miniyal next, his own place last; then he settles into his seat. A sigh, which seems to lighten his mood. "No one knows what green? No one got a name?"
D'ven shakes his head. "No name that I've heard." He replies softly, watching thoughtfully as G'thon sorts out the glasses. "I'm sure it will all sorted out in time. S'lien won't want to appear...in a bad light, so I imagine as soon as he hears things got jumbled up there'll be some sort of announcement that clears things up." His words are chosen carefully.
"Oh, for the love of. . ." Well, come on. At some point she was going to do this. It was only a matter of time. "Word is that S'lien kept an Instigator under wraps for two weeks. Tortured her and sent her home. And now this rumor is going around because someone thinks it's the best way to handle it instead of just confronting the right people with it and getting the truth. Which really only gives time, if it's true, for those responsible to escape punishment. Or come up with a more concrete story that is believable by those who don't want to believe that once again the people who are supposed to be our leaders have decided that it is quite alright to make others suffer for their own reasons, none of which are going to be good." Miniyal falls silent and takes a drink. Yes, wine now. That is good.
Gans has similarly had about enough - but he is, and this should be marked in a history book somewhere, less wordy about it. "Roa told you." His turn to pick up D'ven's handcrafted wine for a sip.
D'ven seems very unsure of what to say to that, nodding in silent thought for a short while. "That would indeed be the size of it." He finally speaks, though it's unclear exactly which person he's responding to.
Having had enough of the whole thing, Miniyal takes up her fork to try her dessert. "I think she outdid herself and it does compliment the wine." Turning to D'ven she smiles cheerfully. "Thank you so much for bringing it." And from there she will, with surprising deftness, turn the conversation to something less charged. Simply by not letting anyone talk about anything but what she brings up. With G'thon it's easily enough done, she knows him that well. With D'ven she will just flatter his ego and talk wine and other alcohols with him. She does know enough about them. Dessert, alas, will be cut short enough because she can only keep it up for so long and soon enough she'll show D'ven the door with many thanks for coming by.