Considering obligations.
Who: Miniyal and G'thon
Where: Near the ocean, near Southern Boll
When: Hrm. Good question. Somewhere around the 7th or so of month 1, turn 3, of the 7th Pass.
What: Slowly the vacation scenes come together. ;) This is post Harper and post Tillek. The end of their holiday away from home. The overdue discussion on marriage finally comes to fruition.
1/12/2007 & 1/16/2007
Somewhere around the 7th or so of month 1, turn 3, of the 7th Pass.
They left Tillek in the evening. Why remain there, where it would be cold and damp, when they could sleep in the comfortable winter warmth of Boll? The bluepair that delivered them to G'thon's birthplace delivered them to their last stop on this long holiday, too. Not the Hold proper, but a smaller place some distance from it; a family with a spare place meant for aging parents no longer in charge of the property or a young couple not yet ready to take it over. That spare place stands empty due to a generation of married-off daughters, and whatever arrangements Gans has made to be kept there, he settled them with the people directly, leaving Miniyal half an hour to explore their accommodations and surroundings before he joined her.
They had time, then, to make themselves thoroughly at home, and to enjoy a long night in between rare moments of sleep.
Morning sees a basket of fruit and bread delivered to the step of the one-room cottage. If she's quick Miniyal might have caught a glance of a child, perhaps eight or ten, dashing back up to the main house; perhaps she was told not to linger. Privacy seems assured. Gans' suggestion, once he's dressed - and here's something of interest, in that he has brought for this occasion clothes that are not black nor grey but rather the muted colors of linen and brown, summerweight and unfussy - is simple: "There's a path. Would you like to walk?"
Not that there is a thing wrong with winter weather, but one must humor old men and their old bones. Although, it is not as if Miniyal was not more than ready to leave Tillek anyway. It will remain in her mind forever as 'that place where I met Gans' mother.' Which is an interesting title that one won't see appearing on any maps her or anyone else might make, but that is the title it will carry from now on in her mind. Luckily, they are no longer there and are now 'someplace else.' A title of its own.
Because she was not told where the third part of their vacation was to be she was forced to pack as best she could. Assuming warm weather she was required to dig around a bit to find the few things she kept for travel to such climates. Then most of those were not suitable so she scrambled about to get other things that were and, annoying as the task was to her at the time, she did manage to get a few nice, lighter things to wear. At his suggestion she looks up from the book she has been reading and shrugs. "I suppose it does us no good to be somewhere other than home if we spend the whole time indoors." Not that she would object to such. However, she abandons her book and smooths down the light brown skirt she wears, tugging absently at the blue blouse paired with it. Not so different from what she wears at home although here she might wear short sleeves and not risk frostbite this time of year.
And go without a coat, sensibly. "You can bring that, if you want." Gans is, as ever, accommodating. "We might find a place to sit and eat." Which, of course, they have not done. Nor has he made tea; in fact, for a man so bent on doing or reading or saying something so much of the time at home, he has been so far spectacularly idle here. Perhaps it's the weather. He gains the basket in one hand and a little blanket over his arm, and offers the other for her to take if she likes; and once she gets shod and ready with or without book, off they go, up the path that leads to the main house. Less than halfway there a lesser trail, too narrow for a cart, winds off slightly downhill through amber, ungrazed winter pasture; this one, they follow.
"So do you believe you can stand to stay here a few days?" Wryly put, of course; deeply fond. Gans steals a sideways glance at her, but takes care about it; the grass is morning-wet and the path narrow, so they walk slowly.
The book is considered the whole time she goes about the task of putting on sandals. Not as good as bare feet, but no need for boots here. Finally she takes up the book and peers at it most intently. Then she sets it back down. "It will be here when we return." There is no need to carry it along for surely they can entertain themselves without the printed word. When they head off she spends her time looking around since they did arrive in the evening. And she must see every detail of where they are so she might not forget. This allows him to look over her when he likes for she spares but a few rare glances his way. The path gets the attention the scenery does not so Miniyal can make sure she does not fall. "I suppose I can suffer here for a few days. But only because I prefer the company I keep here to what I might find anywhere else."
At her reply, Gans laughs - a gentle, easy laugh, unmeasured, unrestrained. "I assume I should be flattered, as we shall have no other company." There: verbal confirmation that his efforts are to keep their privacy private, that this is meant to be quiet and selfish time, in which they may be as asocial as -she- likes.
The path gives way up a gentle slope from grass-pasture to thin forest, trees bent from the coastal air; the brush is low and sparse, lush even in winter, here. In the shade it's not quite cool. The forest is brief, a greenstrip left standing by whatever ancient holdfolk cleared the land for the pasture; the path emerges ahead into a high, rolling dune, beyond which the telltale open sky stretches, the sea hidden by the grassed sand.
In the nook where the ground starts to rise toward the sand, Gans pauses and looks off the path, or what has just stopped being a path. "Would you like to sit here, or around the other side, or keep walking - ?"
As there is nothing wrong with being asocial this is a good thing. So much so that their steps must be stopped so she might give him a kiss on the cheek. A brief pause in their steps that anything else might not have been. "I have no idea," is murmured as their steps pick up again. "Why you are so good to me. But so long as it continues I don't care about the whys." When they pause then near the end of the path she hesitates. "Stopping would be good. I find I don't much like the open spaces. Sky and water and. . .nothing. Spent too much time away from all of that to be comfortable with it. Maybe we can walk farther later." Because, as if there are not enough problems Miniyal has, a touch of agoraphobia makes sense.
"You do care about the whys; it gives you cause to worry, and you like nothing more." It is fond, this accusation, sweetened by his smile and his affection; it adores her, and in a moment he breathes her name to close the observation, because it was no invitation to worry just now. About open spaces Gans only nods - perhaps there are exactly as many problems his lover has as there need to be, because it might seem he had predicted this one. He's ready too swiftly to pick out a spot up against the sheltered side of the dune, in the warm shade of the greenstrip forest, to shake out the blanket onto the grassy sand. They shall, then, face the trees and lean up against the dune if they like, and he weights the foot of the blanket with the basket. "I like to be close to the sea; I like the smell. Fresh, but a little more than fresh; not close enough to smell the fishy salty part, but the openness as a scent. A scent instead of a sight." He glances up at her with a wry and crooked smile, one brow propped, and gestures at the blanket: hers to command a space.
"I find I am good at it." Worrying that is as the words slip in after his observation. After she takes her brief moment to recover from the sound of her name on his lips. Confirming his observation then she listens to the rest of his words while she allows him to lay out the blanket. Far be it from Miniyal to deny him the chance to do things for her, she hardly ever does after all. Stepping towards the blanket she pauses at the edge to carefully balance herself on first one foot and then other so she might leave her sandals behind. Toes wiggle in the sand just a moment and then she sits near the center of the blanket, a little to one side and within reach of the basket. "I do not mind the smells of the open. But I prefer the mountains. Even outside it's like they are protecting you from everything else. It's just. . .I don't know. What I am used to I guess."
"The mountains smell the same, to me." A pause, wherein he steps out of his shoes and onto the blanket, expression thoughtful and slightly furrowed. "Not the same. I certainly know them apart. But they smell like the world's breath, like the breath of life. I like them for the same reason." He settles beside her, going to a knee first and then farther down to seat himself, leaning back with no obvious intention to do anything about the basket at all just yet save nod at her and it, in case she might like. "We have a little hill to protect us here," he says, the words undercurrented by a ripple of unlaughed laughter. "How are you liking it so far?"
The basket will get its attention in due time, but for now Miniyal merely wishes to have to close for when the time comes. She turns some, adjusting her position so she might watch him from the angle she chooses. "I can't wait to go back." Tucking her feet under her she smiles then, head shaking a fraction. "It is not. . .I love going away with you but every time I go away I am aware that I am not at home. And it is like. . .I do not know. When I first get back and I see the mountains for the first time and I feel the difference in the air it's like they are glad I am back too." Ducking her head she plucks at the blanket. "That's so dumb sounding." Another shake of her head and she looks up again, although not at him. Instead she studies their hill and then the immediate surroundings. "It is nice."
"Perhaps I am more patient," replies Gans in a slower manner of speaking than he usually affects, leaning farther back so he nearly lies beside her, reclined against the dune's slope; thus he can watch her, and the glimpses of sky past the sparse trees above, in one fine view. "But I feel the same way; that they welcome me home. I never liked to travel so much before," and as is common he provides no milestone for his use of that comparative term. "Now, though, I think that's part of why I do. To feel that greeting, to come home to that welcome."
"You are definitely more patient, Gans. But, five turn olds are often more patient than I. It's not. . .I don't know." Miniyal frowns thoughtfully a moment and then shifts a hand from her lap to rest near his own without touching it. "Some things I do not mind waiting for and it does not bother me to do such and other things I just don't feel I should have to wait for. Well, either way we will go home in a few days and that is all that matters. I shall not waste my attentions thinking of that day when I might focus on the one I am in. I would hate to miss anything."
"Either way we shall go home in a few days, and all that matters -now- is that we are together, and alone, and unlikely to be disrupted by duty or worry until we do go," murmurs Gans by way of amendment to her words, his gaze slipping away from her to the distant sway of branches high above. "I believe we might have reason to spend some of our time talking - not that I have ever minded time we spend otherwise. Reading, of course, has its place too." The -only- alternative to talking, no doubt.
Her nose wrinkles at the mention of talk. Teasing only because she is resigned to talking with him. Not that Miniyal would ever come out and say it, but she enjoys talking to him. It is something he can figure out with her willingness to do so often. Her own gaze wanders a moment and she smiles. "We should come back out tonight. You owe me a night's star gazing." And it will be much more comfortable here than it was in the cold winter at home. Suggestion offered she then lets out a quiet laugh, gaze turning towards him once more. "If I had known we planned to do anything else but talk here I would have brought my book. Now I will be at a loss as to what I might do when we are not talking."
"I owe you," muses Gans, mild and wry even in delight. "I see." On this he untucks an arm and reaches over to prop his elbow behind her, hand up so he can curve his palm to the small of her back. "Thinking, I'll suggest, for now. When you tire of that too, I shall endeavour to amuse you some other way." His hand moves, fingers arching and flattening again as if caressing the fabric as much as the skin beneath. "There is, to address, the notion that you might marry me." There.
"You are the one, I might remind, that ran off with another woman when you could have run off with me." There is laughter in her words, so much so that it spills out. Then it stops all at once although it does so before he gets out that last sentence. Likely then it is not due to bringing up marriage, but simply due to his hand on her back. "I shall repay any amusement in kind." Then Miniyal is silent to consider what he said last. "It is just a notion now, is it?"
"I would not presume otherwise," replies Gans, as solemn and stately as only he can be, drily pleasant not in spite, but because of it. "But I think it might be unfair of me to carry you away down that path without inviting some discussion of alternatives and outcomes. I - " He puts down his hand from her back so he can rest his forearm against the blanket and use it to lean up against somewhat. "Not to dwell on turns, but we must admit there are some things to consider where the difference in our ages is concerned." At least he can wrap these words in a bit of a smile to warm them.
Head tilting to the side and then downward so she might study him as she speaks, Miniyal shakes her head. "First, I don't care. About the age thing. I'm going to be with you for the rest of your life. You said so." He said so and so it must be. She will ever take him at his word. Unless she can create drama and misery from doubt. This is not one of those places she chooses to do so. "There is nothing to consider. I love you." A pause and then more quietly, "You love me." Wonder still at these words, awe that such is the case and it pulls her from the conversation so she might just look at him with this thought fresh in her mind again.
"Indeed." And from that word Gans smiles up at her, his eyelids lazy against the bright sky, his mouth curved up on the right-hand side. "I have no suspicion that you would consider my turns, however many they might be, less worthwhile than they would be if I were younger. The idea of being married through them, to you, is a pleasant one. But it would be - I don't know. Impolite, perhaps? - of me to not consider what it would mean for you, after." He pushes himself a little farther up on that arm and reaches the other languidly across to touch her hand where it came to rest near his lap. "I have no intention of lingering. Dragonriders weren't meant to do so. I don't worry at all about how I might leave you, and I know it would hardly make a difference to your heart. So it's about convenience, Miniyal - " His smile tweaks upward a little, thrilled to her name. "Yours. For some women it might be preferable to have been single, to stand on her own, than to be viewed as a widow first and an individual second; and perhaps we might alter that common view before then, but perhaps we might not. Perhaps it's ridiculous of me to ask, to even be concerned, but - " Here even Gans' somewhat legendary gab fails him, and he fills in with a shrug; awkward, but trying to be thoughtful. He can't be blamed for this.
"I don't care. Maybe you think I only say that now, but I don't. People will see me. . .as they see me. I am resigned to that. I would be proud to be your wife." Here she pauses because Miniyal has little desire to consider what else she might be after becoming that. However, it is being discussed and so she must. "And I will be heartbroken when you are gone regardless of how we spend the time we have together." Which is not 'the remaining time' because that seems so. . .short. "It is not that. . .that I am singularly attached to the idea of marriage. I do not demand it and never expected it. But. . .surely that is not the only. . .you said there were other considerations." And he is too careful with his words for that to have been accidental, that pluralization of the word. "So tell the next to me." But first she leans down for a kiss. There have not been enough in this conversation and she must rectify that problem for the next minute. Or three. When done she gives up on sitting and stretches out beside him, propped up on her side with one elbow.
Gans raises his head so his lips can more easily meet her kiss, and like her he is willing to take that time as their well-earned reward for coming this far through this conversation of difficult things. "Other considerations," he murmurs then, with his lips not far from hers. Then he stretches too, lifting his arm back under his neck so his side is a lean smooth plane for her to slide into place alongside. The motions give him time enough to, it seems, gain some clarity with which to address their conversation. "Your parents, perhaps." But he's quite wry on that, as if he knows better.
She cannot resist a roll of her eyes at that consideration. "My parents are no concern, Gans. They will not, at this point, say much of anything I think." Here Miniyal stops, a smile forcing its way into the conversation once more. "It has been nearly a turn, you know. Since we had dinner together." Which seems to mean her parents will no longer object. At least to her and if they wish to bemoan her state with their friends it is their right as parents. "Just out with it. What is it you want to say, but feel you must lead up to? There is nothing you can say that will upset me." Well, there is, but it's not likely to occur now, in this conversation.
He cannot help a low chuckle. He cannot duck his head, reclined as he is, so he closes his eyes instead and laughs, self-deprecating without even another hint of gesture. "We have an anniversary coming up, then." Which is not one of his considerations, but a pleasant side trip for a moment, good enough to raise his eyelids again and have him twinkling a smile over at her. "Two things. First, that you may yet wish to pursue some study or work at Harper. I would not think you'd be liable to take on a typical apprenticeship, but I don't want any obligation between us to conflict with anything you might do."
It is a pleasant enough diversion and she will think not only then on that day coming up some months down the line, but also back on that night. It must be that which causes her to shiver once, eyes closing. Because there is no cold wind to cause Miniyal to react in such a way. There is an extra light in her eyes when she looks at him again which might have lead to a kiss were she not aware she must say something in response. "I do not see how what might be between us would conflict at all with any study I might do at Harper, love. I managed to not be so impressive I think. . ." Here she trails off. Mistakes she either made or did not with the Masterharper are not the talk for now. "So we may dismiss that as a concern. You would not stop me from anything I might do and if the fact I were married stopped some course of study then it is not one worth doing. And not one I am sure I couldn't learn some other way."
"As long as you have considered it." These are, after all, considerations. Gans' voice rolls over the form of the word just used, and he untucks a hand to reach out an arm that she might use as pillow if she liked, that he might stroke her back. "And have you ever considered a try on the sands?"
"I have considered we will not make our point on what society should alter if I allow it to constrain me now." Miniyal sounds sure on this point at least. It is also easy to say, although it was likely not easy to come by such words in the first place. Not for her who really only ever wanted to fit in. Still, what is done is done and there is no true fitting in where she is now. Before she answers his question she shifts closer and takes advantage of the arm offered to her, a content sigh her only thanks for this opportunity to rest as she now does. Only once she is settled will she find words again. "No." Well, find if not words than one of them.
Then he hardly needs more than one more than that to make his own point; but before he does so he turns his head toward hers and breathes a kiss into her nut-brown locks, eyes drifting closed. "Would you?"
Of course it would not be easy. His questions are never easy and rarely will he accept a simple answer when he might make things. . .longer. It is this thought which earns him a quiet sigh after the question is asked. "I will not even be of an age to in another turn and a half." Miniyal points this out as her own eyes close. However, it is not her answer because it cannot be, can it? Not with the news they received not so long ago while they were at Harper. "I am sure there are better ways I could waste my time."
Gans lifts his head a little so he can breathe across her hair rather than through it; nevertheless she may feel the change of his face's shape as he smiles his half-smile. "A few hours, Miniyal. It's not as if you'd need a knot or to be assigned work for your stay in your own home."
She does not move, happy enough where she lies and content to not shift her head so she might see him as she speaks. Her eyes stay closed anyway so it would make little difference. "A few hours in which nothing would be accomplished, Gans. I am not. . .I have never desired to." This could be one of those lies Miniyal tells or it could be the truth. Likely it is some mixture of the both. If she had ever desired to the fear of asking to do so would have kept her from it. That and the fear of failure. What people might say, as if she would be good enough. However, it is easier over the turns to just say you never wished to. "Besides. You need me."
"I do. And I would have you, either way." He bends his head again and lets his low, chortling laughter out into her hair, almost like kisses itself and sealed with one at the end. Then Gans tucks his head back and stares skyward, angled just so; thus he can steal a glance at her sidelong from moment to moment, and watch her closed eyes. "You have time to think on it. I could use the time to think about arrangements for a wedding; if you were to stand, and leave as most candidates do, we could simply go on like so." A pause, potent. "I am assuming you might wish to take the chance; it would be the last, and - I feel obliged, in several senses."
Let him steal all the glances he wishes, she will not open her eyes and keep him from doing just that. Instead Miniyal lies still, if not quite tense than very nearly so. "I do not understand this obligation you feel." While it is not a question she clearly expects it to be explained to her. "And I do not. . .I see no reason to. . .I cannot see where it would make a difference. If I did or not."
"You would know," provides Gans, as reason, as difference. "Perhaps it would provide you some options for paths. Perhaps it would give you some new perspectives. Surely it can't hurt." Obligations remain a water uncharted for this time, but he turns his head not, this time, to breathe into her hair; but to kiss her ear through a mischevious smirk.
"I do not feel any desire to know." Well, ok, fine. This is the lie. There is no way to truly sound as if she would rather not know something when she might, but Miniyal will lie anyway. "It is not-" Oh, look. He kissed her ear. Whatever it is not goes away from her brain as she registers this contact. This lovely distracting contact which makes her see no reason at all to speak further on what she might or might not have said. All she does is stretch some where she lies on the blanket and murmur some nonsensical words of encouragement for that behavior.
For those 'words' Gans offers repayment in caresses of his lips along the outer lobe of her ear, and a murmur for her to hear while he does so. In a little while he bends his head a bit so he can press a kiss, deceptively chaste, to the spot just below her ear where jaw and neck join; then he draws back and looks upon her, upon his handiwork, smiling still. "The sands aside, I have no other considerations to press. Have you?"
"You have not answered my question." Oh, look. Her brain is still working. Miniyal's eyes flutter for a moment, but they remain closed. "Obligation in what sense? I will keep pressing until I have my answer so you might as well give it to me now." Although she might not press /now/ when she can turn her head just so and find a kiss that will last but a moment. "I've nothing at all. That is, there is nothing I can think of why we might not do it. Or wait." It is rather like a present in some ways so waiting is not exactly something she will wish to do. However, at the same time she will not truly press the issue.
"Obligation to our Weyr," replies G'thon, mild surprise carefully meted out through those words. "And to you." In -those- he offers only affection, a general adoration similar to that with which he most often pronounces her name.
Her head shakes, just a fraction. Just enough to show she dismisses his words. Although not his tone and she finally will open her eyes and watch him as she speaks. "There are plenty of people at the weyr who never once stand, Gans. I would not be the first and I will not be the last. Navan never did. Corin. . .Bothal. I could name a number of them and then some who never did. So there is no obligation on you or me for that to be something I do." This is, then, dismissed easily. The other part not so much because his other words, their tone, have their own impact. So although there are sentences she wishes to get out, instead Miniyal merely sighs, quiet and resigned and amused. Whatever she thinks she keeps to herself.
"Of course. Perhaps it's my own curiousity, then, and I shouldn't try to infect you with it." Wryly spoken, self-deprecating but humorous too, with a smile in his cheek; he leans for a kiss just below her earlobe, then leans back to recline on the blanket. Gans' turn to close his eyes.
"You should not, but you will." Another quiet sigh, more resigned than the rest. "I will consider it." The first step, of course, to eventual capitulation on her part most likely. She denies him so little that it seems unlikely she will be able to hold out in the coming months. But, Miniyal will certainly try. And it's not as if she cannot find ways to avoid actually doing it. The easiest being simply never find the time to bring it up to anyone. Certainly there is no time now when she might arrange herself at his side and rest her eyes once more. The pleasant sensations brought on by those kisses she will only allow to spread slowly. So that it might build up into something greater for the waiting. In the meantime she has nothing else to say and passes the time by taking his hand in hers so she might land little kisses on his skin from fingers to wrist.
His fingers go gentle in her hand, the skin smoothing in an absence of tension beneath her lips. "Do. It would be unfortunate - " Gans pauses here, as her lips reach his wrist; his fingers curl slightly and he takes a moment to truly bother with breathing. In a moment his eyes open and find her quickly, twinkling without wryness, taken up wholly in her. "- unfortunate, I think, to rush a wedding. Our wedding, anyway. There should be time to consider."
Another kiss lands on his wrist before her teeth graze across his skin. "I would not bring anymore misfortune into our lives." She considers a moment as she continues to tease his palm and wrist with her mouth. "Although I think there could be nothing unfortunate about the eventual outcome. And I have nothing else to consider." His hand now is released and she squirms away an inch or so that she might kneel up. "Gans." Said low, trying to hold his attention with just his name. Her eyes don't leave his as instead of finding him again with her hands she toys with a button on her blouse. It comes undone and she speaks before moving on to the next. "Let's consider those alternatives to talking now."
Where: Near the ocean, near Southern Boll
When: Hrm. Good question. Somewhere around the 7th or so of month 1, turn 3, of the 7th Pass.
What: Slowly the vacation scenes come together. ;) This is post Harper and post Tillek. The end of their holiday away from home. The overdue discussion on marriage finally comes to fruition.
1/12/2007 & 1/16/2007
Somewhere around the 7th or so of month 1, turn 3, of the 7th Pass.
They left Tillek in the evening. Why remain there, where it would be cold and damp, when they could sleep in the comfortable winter warmth of Boll? The bluepair that delivered them to G'thon's birthplace delivered them to their last stop on this long holiday, too. Not the Hold proper, but a smaller place some distance from it; a family with a spare place meant for aging parents no longer in charge of the property or a young couple not yet ready to take it over. That spare place stands empty due to a generation of married-off daughters, and whatever arrangements Gans has made to be kept there, he settled them with the people directly, leaving Miniyal half an hour to explore their accommodations and surroundings before he joined her.
They had time, then, to make themselves thoroughly at home, and to enjoy a long night in between rare moments of sleep.
Morning sees a basket of fruit and bread delivered to the step of the one-room cottage. If she's quick Miniyal might have caught a glance of a child, perhaps eight or ten, dashing back up to the main house; perhaps she was told not to linger. Privacy seems assured. Gans' suggestion, once he's dressed - and here's something of interest, in that he has brought for this occasion clothes that are not black nor grey but rather the muted colors of linen and brown, summerweight and unfussy - is simple: "There's a path. Would you like to walk?"
Not that there is a thing wrong with winter weather, but one must humor old men and their old bones. Although, it is not as if Miniyal was not more than ready to leave Tillek anyway. It will remain in her mind forever as 'that place where I met Gans' mother.' Which is an interesting title that one won't see appearing on any maps her or anyone else might make, but that is the title it will carry from now on in her mind. Luckily, they are no longer there and are now 'someplace else.' A title of its own.
Because she was not told where the third part of their vacation was to be she was forced to pack as best she could. Assuming warm weather she was required to dig around a bit to find the few things she kept for travel to such climates. Then most of those were not suitable so she scrambled about to get other things that were and, annoying as the task was to her at the time, she did manage to get a few nice, lighter things to wear. At his suggestion she looks up from the book she has been reading and shrugs. "I suppose it does us no good to be somewhere other than home if we spend the whole time indoors." Not that she would object to such. However, she abandons her book and smooths down the light brown skirt she wears, tugging absently at the blue blouse paired with it. Not so different from what she wears at home although here she might wear short sleeves and not risk frostbite this time of year.
And go without a coat, sensibly. "You can bring that, if you want." Gans is, as ever, accommodating. "We might find a place to sit and eat." Which, of course, they have not done. Nor has he made tea; in fact, for a man so bent on doing or reading or saying something so much of the time at home, he has been so far spectacularly idle here. Perhaps it's the weather. He gains the basket in one hand and a little blanket over his arm, and offers the other for her to take if she likes; and once she gets shod and ready with or without book, off they go, up the path that leads to the main house. Less than halfway there a lesser trail, too narrow for a cart, winds off slightly downhill through amber, ungrazed winter pasture; this one, they follow.
"So do you believe you can stand to stay here a few days?" Wryly put, of course; deeply fond. Gans steals a sideways glance at her, but takes care about it; the grass is morning-wet and the path narrow, so they walk slowly.
The book is considered the whole time she goes about the task of putting on sandals. Not as good as bare feet, but no need for boots here. Finally she takes up the book and peers at it most intently. Then she sets it back down. "It will be here when we return." There is no need to carry it along for surely they can entertain themselves without the printed word. When they head off she spends her time looking around since they did arrive in the evening. And she must see every detail of where they are so she might not forget. This allows him to look over her when he likes for she spares but a few rare glances his way. The path gets the attention the scenery does not so Miniyal can make sure she does not fall. "I suppose I can suffer here for a few days. But only because I prefer the company I keep here to what I might find anywhere else."
At her reply, Gans laughs - a gentle, easy laugh, unmeasured, unrestrained. "I assume I should be flattered, as we shall have no other company." There: verbal confirmation that his efforts are to keep their privacy private, that this is meant to be quiet and selfish time, in which they may be as asocial as -she- likes.
The path gives way up a gentle slope from grass-pasture to thin forest, trees bent from the coastal air; the brush is low and sparse, lush even in winter, here. In the shade it's not quite cool. The forest is brief, a greenstrip left standing by whatever ancient holdfolk cleared the land for the pasture; the path emerges ahead into a high, rolling dune, beyond which the telltale open sky stretches, the sea hidden by the grassed sand.
In the nook where the ground starts to rise toward the sand, Gans pauses and looks off the path, or what has just stopped being a path. "Would you like to sit here, or around the other side, or keep walking - ?"
As there is nothing wrong with being asocial this is a good thing. So much so that their steps must be stopped so she might give him a kiss on the cheek. A brief pause in their steps that anything else might not have been. "I have no idea," is murmured as their steps pick up again. "Why you are so good to me. But so long as it continues I don't care about the whys." When they pause then near the end of the path she hesitates. "Stopping would be good. I find I don't much like the open spaces. Sky and water and. . .nothing. Spent too much time away from all of that to be comfortable with it. Maybe we can walk farther later." Because, as if there are not enough problems Miniyal has, a touch of agoraphobia makes sense.
"You do care about the whys; it gives you cause to worry, and you like nothing more." It is fond, this accusation, sweetened by his smile and his affection; it adores her, and in a moment he breathes her name to close the observation, because it was no invitation to worry just now. About open spaces Gans only nods - perhaps there are exactly as many problems his lover has as there need to be, because it might seem he had predicted this one. He's ready too swiftly to pick out a spot up against the sheltered side of the dune, in the warm shade of the greenstrip forest, to shake out the blanket onto the grassy sand. They shall, then, face the trees and lean up against the dune if they like, and he weights the foot of the blanket with the basket. "I like to be close to the sea; I like the smell. Fresh, but a little more than fresh; not close enough to smell the fishy salty part, but the openness as a scent. A scent instead of a sight." He glances up at her with a wry and crooked smile, one brow propped, and gestures at the blanket: hers to command a space.
"I find I am good at it." Worrying that is as the words slip in after his observation. After she takes her brief moment to recover from the sound of her name on his lips. Confirming his observation then she listens to the rest of his words while she allows him to lay out the blanket. Far be it from Miniyal to deny him the chance to do things for her, she hardly ever does after all. Stepping towards the blanket she pauses at the edge to carefully balance herself on first one foot and then other so she might leave her sandals behind. Toes wiggle in the sand just a moment and then she sits near the center of the blanket, a little to one side and within reach of the basket. "I do not mind the smells of the open. But I prefer the mountains. Even outside it's like they are protecting you from everything else. It's just. . .I don't know. What I am used to I guess."
"The mountains smell the same, to me." A pause, wherein he steps out of his shoes and onto the blanket, expression thoughtful and slightly furrowed. "Not the same. I certainly know them apart. But they smell like the world's breath, like the breath of life. I like them for the same reason." He settles beside her, going to a knee first and then farther down to seat himself, leaning back with no obvious intention to do anything about the basket at all just yet save nod at her and it, in case she might like. "We have a little hill to protect us here," he says, the words undercurrented by a ripple of unlaughed laughter. "How are you liking it so far?"
The basket will get its attention in due time, but for now Miniyal merely wishes to have to close for when the time comes. She turns some, adjusting her position so she might watch him from the angle she chooses. "I can't wait to go back." Tucking her feet under her she smiles then, head shaking a fraction. "It is not. . .I love going away with you but every time I go away I am aware that I am not at home. And it is like. . .I do not know. When I first get back and I see the mountains for the first time and I feel the difference in the air it's like they are glad I am back too." Ducking her head she plucks at the blanket. "That's so dumb sounding." Another shake of her head and she looks up again, although not at him. Instead she studies their hill and then the immediate surroundings. "It is nice."
"Perhaps I am more patient," replies Gans in a slower manner of speaking than he usually affects, leaning farther back so he nearly lies beside her, reclined against the dune's slope; thus he can watch her, and the glimpses of sky past the sparse trees above, in one fine view. "But I feel the same way; that they welcome me home. I never liked to travel so much before," and as is common he provides no milestone for his use of that comparative term. "Now, though, I think that's part of why I do. To feel that greeting, to come home to that welcome."
"You are definitely more patient, Gans. But, five turn olds are often more patient than I. It's not. . .I don't know." Miniyal frowns thoughtfully a moment and then shifts a hand from her lap to rest near his own without touching it. "Some things I do not mind waiting for and it does not bother me to do such and other things I just don't feel I should have to wait for. Well, either way we will go home in a few days and that is all that matters. I shall not waste my attentions thinking of that day when I might focus on the one I am in. I would hate to miss anything."
"Either way we shall go home in a few days, and all that matters -now- is that we are together, and alone, and unlikely to be disrupted by duty or worry until we do go," murmurs Gans by way of amendment to her words, his gaze slipping away from her to the distant sway of branches high above. "I believe we might have reason to spend some of our time talking - not that I have ever minded time we spend otherwise. Reading, of course, has its place too." The -only- alternative to talking, no doubt.
Her nose wrinkles at the mention of talk. Teasing only because she is resigned to talking with him. Not that Miniyal would ever come out and say it, but she enjoys talking to him. It is something he can figure out with her willingness to do so often. Her own gaze wanders a moment and she smiles. "We should come back out tonight. You owe me a night's star gazing." And it will be much more comfortable here than it was in the cold winter at home. Suggestion offered she then lets out a quiet laugh, gaze turning towards him once more. "If I had known we planned to do anything else but talk here I would have brought my book. Now I will be at a loss as to what I might do when we are not talking."
"I owe you," muses Gans, mild and wry even in delight. "I see." On this he untucks an arm and reaches over to prop his elbow behind her, hand up so he can curve his palm to the small of her back. "Thinking, I'll suggest, for now. When you tire of that too, I shall endeavour to amuse you some other way." His hand moves, fingers arching and flattening again as if caressing the fabric as much as the skin beneath. "There is, to address, the notion that you might marry me." There.
"You are the one, I might remind, that ran off with another woman when you could have run off with me." There is laughter in her words, so much so that it spills out. Then it stops all at once although it does so before he gets out that last sentence. Likely then it is not due to bringing up marriage, but simply due to his hand on her back. "I shall repay any amusement in kind." Then Miniyal is silent to consider what he said last. "It is just a notion now, is it?"
"I would not presume otherwise," replies Gans, as solemn and stately as only he can be, drily pleasant not in spite, but because of it. "But I think it might be unfair of me to carry you away down that path without inviting some discussion of alternatives and outcomes. I - " He puts down his hand from her back so he can rest his forearm against the blanket and use it to lean up against somewhat. "Not to dwell on turns, but we must admit there are some things to consider where the difference in our ages is concerned." At least he can wrap these words in a bit of a smile to warm them.
Head tilting to the side and then downward so she might study him as she speaks, Miniyal shakes her head. "First, I don't care. About the age thing. I'm going to be with you for the rest of your life. You said so." He said so and so it must be. She will ever take him at his word. Unless she can create drama and misery from doubt. This is not one of those places she chooses to do so. "There is nothing to consider. I love you." A pause and then more quietly, "You love me." Wonder still at these words, awe that such is the case and it pulls her from the conversation so she might just look at him with this thought fresh in her mind again.
"Indeed." And from that word Gans smiles up at her, his eyelids lazy against the bright sky, his mouth curved up on the right-hand side. "I have no suspicion that you would consider my turns, however many they might be, less worthwhile than they would be if I were younger. The idea of being married through them, to you, is a pleasant one. But it would be - I don't know. Impolite, perhaps? - of me to not consider what it would mean for you, after." He pushes himself a little farther up on that arm and reaches the other languidly across to touch her hand where it came to rest near his lap. "I have no intention of lingering. Dragonriders weren't meant to do so. I don't worry at all about how I might leave you, and I know it would hardly make a difference to your heart. So it's about convenience, Miniyal - " His smile tweaks upward a little, thrilled to her name. "Yours. For some women it might be preferable to have been single, to stand on her own, than to be viewed as a widow first and an individual second; and perhaps we might alter that common view before then, but perhaps we might not. Perhaps it's ridiculous of me to ask, to even be concerned, but - " Here even Gans' somewhat legendary gab fails him, and he fills in with a shrug; awkward, but trying to be thoughtful. He can't be blamed for this.
"I don't care. Maybe you think I only say that now, but I don't. People will see me. . .as they see me. I am resigned to that. I would be proud to be your wife." Here she pauses because Miniyal has little desire to consider what else she might be after becoming that. However, it is being discussed and so she must. "And I will be heartbroken when you are gone regardless of how we spend the time we have together." Which is not 'the remaining time' because that seems so. . .short. "It is not that. . .that I am singularly attached to the idea of marriage. I do not demand it and never expected it. But. . .surely that is not the only. . .you said there were other considerations." And he is too careful with his words for that to have been accidental, that pluralization of the word. "So tell the next to me." But first she leans down for a kiss. There have not been enough in this conversation and she must rectify that problem for the next minute. Or three. When done she gives up on sitting and stretches out beside him, propped up on her side with one elbow.
Gans raises his head so his lips can more easily meet her kiss, and like her he is willing to take that time as their well-earned reward for coming this far through this conversation of difficult things. "Other considerations," he murmurs then, with his lips not far from hers. Then he stretches too, lifting his arm back under his neck so his side is a lean smooth plane for her to slide into place alongside. The motions give him time enough to, it seems, gain some clarity with which to address their conversation. "Your parents, perhaps." But he's quite wry on that, as if he knows better.
She cannot resist a roll of her eyes at that consideration. "My parents are no concern, Gans. They will not, at this point, say much of anything I think." Here Miniyal stops, a smile forcing its way into the conversation once more. "It has been nearly a turn, you know. Since we had dinner together." Which seems to mean her parents will no longer object. At least to her and if they wish to bemoan her state with their friends it is their right as parents. "Just out with it. What is it you want to say, but feel you must lead up to? There is nothing you can say that will upset me." Well, there is, but it's not likely to occur now, in this conversation.
He cannot help a low chuckle. He cannot duck his head, reclined as he is, so he closes his eyes instead and laughs, self-deprecating without even another hint of gesture. "We have an anniversary coming up, then." Which is not one of his considerations, but a pleasant side trip for a moment, good enough to raise his eyelids again and have him twinkling a smile over at her. "Two things. First, that you may yet wish to pursue some study or work at Harper. I would not think you'd be liable to take on a typical apprenticeship, but I don't want any obligation between us to conflict with anything you might do."
It is a pleasant enough diversion and she will think not only then on that day coming up some months down the line, but also back on that night. It must be that which causes her to shiver once, eyes closing. Because there is no cold wind to cause Miniyal to react in such a way. There is an extra light in her eyes when she looks at him again which might have lead to a kiss were she not aware she must say something in response. "I do not see how what might be between us would conflict at all with any study I might do at Harper, love. I managed to not be so impressive I think. . ." Here she trails off. Mistakes she either made or did not with the Masterharper are not the talk for now. "So we may dismiss that as a concern. You would not stop me from anything I might do and if the fact I were married stopped some course of study then it is not one worth doing. And not one I am sure I couldn't learn some other way."
"As long as you have considered it." These are, after all, considerations. Gans' voice rolls over the form of the word just used, and he untucks a hand to reach out an arm that she might use as pillow if she liked, that he might stroke her back. "And have you ever considered a try on the sands?"
"I have considered we will not make our point on what society should alter if I allow it to constrain me now." Miniyal sounds sure on this point at least. It is also easy to say, although it was likely not easy to come by such words in the first place. Not for her who really only ever wanted to fit in. Still, what is done is done and there is no true fitting in where she is now. Before she answers his question she shifts closer and takes advantage of the arm offered to her, a content sigh her only thanks for this opportunity to rest as she now does. Only once she is settled will she find words again. "No." Well, find if not words than one of them.
Then he hardly needs more than one more than that to make his own point; but before he does so he turns his head toward hers and breathes a kiss into her nut-brown locks, eyes drifting closed. "Would you?"
Of course it would not be easy. His questions are never easy and rarely will he accept a simple answer when he might make things. . .longer. It is this thought which earns him a quiet sigh after the question is asked. "I will not even be of an age to in another turn and a half." Miniyal points this out as her own eyes close. However, it is not her answer because it cannot be, can it? Not with the news they received not so long ago while they were at Harper. "I am sure there are better ways I could waste my time."
Gans lifts his head a little so he can breathe across her hair rather than through it; nevertheless she may feel the change of his face's shape as he smiles his half-smile. "A few hours, Miniyal. It's not as if you'd need a knot or to be assigned work for your stay in your own home."
She does not move, happy enough where she lies and content to not shift her head so she might see him as she speaks. Her eyes stay closed anyway so it would make little difference. "A few hours in which nothing would be accomplished, Gans. I am not. . .I have never desired to." This could be one of those lies Miniyal tells or it could be the truth. Likely it is some mixture of the both. If she had ever desired to the fear of asking to do so would have kept her from it. That and the fear of failure. What people might say, as if she would be good enough. However, it is easier over the turns to just say you never wished to. "Besides. You need me."
"I do. And I would have you, either way." He bends his head again and lets his low, chortling laughter out into her hair, almost like kisses itself and sealed with one at the end. Then Gans tucks his head back and stares skyward, angled just so; thus he can steal a glance at her sidelong from moment to moment, and watch her closed eyes. "You have time to think on it. I could use the time to think about arrangements for a wedding; if you were to stand, and leave as most candidates do, we could simply go on like so." A pause, potent. "I am assuming you might wish to take the chance; it would be the last, and - I feel obliged, in several senses."
Let him steal all the glances he wishes, she will not open her eyes and keep him from doing just that. Instead Miniyal lies still, if not quite tense than very nearly so. "I do not understand this obligation you feel." While it is not a question she clearly expects it to be explained to her. "And I do not. . .I see no reason to. . .I cannot see where it would make a difference. If I did or not."
"You would know," provides Gans, as reason, as difference. "Perhaps it would provide you some options for paths. Perhaps it would give you some new perspectives. Surely it can't hurt." Obligations remain a water uncharted for this time, but he turns his head not, this time, to breathe into her hair; but to kiss her ear through a mischevious smirk.
"I do not feel any desire to know." Well, ok, fine. This is the lie. There is no way to truly sound as if she would rather not know something when she might, but Miniyal will lie anyway. "It is not-" Oh, look. He kissed her ear. Whatever it is not goes away from her brain as she registers this contact. This lovely distracting contact which makes her see no reason at all to speak further on what she might or might not have said. All she does is stretch some where she lies on the blanket and murmur some nonsensical words of encouragement for that behavior.
For those 'words' Gans offers repayment in caresses of his lips along the outer lobe of her ear, and a murmur for her to hear while he does so. In a little while he bends his head a bit so he can press a kiss, deceptively chaste, to the spot just below her ear where jaw and neck join; then he draws back and looks upon her, upon his handiwork, smiling still. "The sands aside, I have no other considerations to press. Have you?"
"You have not answered my question." Oh, look. Her brain is still working. Miniyal's eyes flutter for a moment, but they remain closed. "Obligation in what sense? I will keep pressing until I have my answer so you might as well give it to me now." Although she might not press /now/ when she can turn her head just so and find a kiss that will last but a moment. "I've nothing at all. That is, there is nothing I can think of why we might not do it. Or wait." It is rather like a present in some ways so waiting is not exactly something she will wish to do. However, at the same time she will not truly press the issue.
"Obligation to our Weyr," replies G'thon, mild surprise carefully meted out through those words. "And to you." In -those- he offers only affection, a general adoration similar to that with which he most often pronounces her name.
Her head shakes, just a fraction. Just enough to show she dismisses his words. Although not his tone and she finally will open her eyes and watch him as she speaks. "There are plenty of people at the weyr who never once stand, Gans. I would not be the first and I will not be the last. Navan never did. Corin. . .Bothal. I could name a number of them and then some who never did. So there is no obligation on you or me for that to be something I do." This is, then, dismissed easily. The other part not so much because his other words, their tone, have their own impact. So although there are sentences she wishes to get out, instead Miniyal merely sighs, quiet and resigned and amused. Whatever she thinks she keeps to herself.
"Of course. Perhaps it's my own curiousity, then, and I shouldn't try to infect you with it." Wryly spoken, self-deprecating but humorous too, with a smile in his cheek; he leans for a kiss just below her earlobe, then leans back to recline on the blanket. Gans' turn to close his eyes.
"You should not, but you will." Another quiet sigh, more resigned than the rest. "I will consider it." The first step, of course, to eventual capitulation on her part most likely. She denies him so little that it seems unlikely she will be able to hold out in the coming months. But, Miniyal will certainly try. And it's not as if she cannot find ways to avoid actually doing it. The easiest being simply never find the time to bring it up to anyone. Certainly there is no time now when she might arrange herself at his side and rest her eyes once more. The pleasant sensations brought on by those kisses she will only allow to spread slowly. So that it might build up into something greater for the waiting. In the meantime she has nothing else to say and passes the time by taking his hand in hers so she might land little kisses on his skin from fingers to wrist.
His fingers go gentle in her hand, the skin smoothing in an absence of tension beneath her lips. "Do. It would be unfortunate - " Gans pauses here, as her lips reach his wrist; his fingers curl slightly and he takes a moment to truly bother with breathing. In a moment his eyes open and find her quickly, twinkling without wryness, taken up wholly in her. "- unfortunate, I think, to rush a wedding. Our wedding, anyway. There should be time to consider."
Another kiss lands on his wrist before her teeth graze across his skin. "I would not bring anymore misfortune into our lives." She considers a moment as she continues to tease his palm and wrist with her mouth. "Although I think there could be nothing unfortunate about the eventual outcome. And I have nothing else to consider." His hand now is released and she squirms away an inch or so that she might kneel up. "Gans." Said low, trying to hold his attention with just his name. Her eyes don't leave his as instead of finding him again with her hands she toys with a button on her blouse. It comes undone and she speaks before moving on to the next. "Let's consider those alternatives to talking now."