The trial after she had moved in he had arranged for a new room to be built on to the house, which had been finished late yesterday. In that time, they'd fallen into a routine the two of them, or as close to one as their busy schedules allowed, and that routine revolved mostly around food. In the evening, they cooked together and then ate. First thing in the morning, they sat and ate breakfast which, somehow, they'd fallen into taking turns to make. After they'd eaten in the evening, sometimes they would sit and talk, other times he would study or experiment. She would make things, adding little touches to the house. First, she'd made warm scarves, gloves and hats for them both, socks for bed or to be worn under boots. Now, those done, she was working on thick throws in the living room. If not, and often at the same time as she was crafting, she would be reading one of the books which she had, inevitably, borrowed from the library.
This trial, it was her turn to make breakfast. She'd been up, as always, since before the suns and had put his experimenting equipment (this seemed to consist, this time, of two glass vials and a very strange looking substance) out of the way so that he wouldn't trip on it, stand on it or otherwise kick it all over the floor when he got out of bed. When he got up, and he was never a late riser, she was up and dressed and welcomed him, as she always did, with a kiss and a cup of tea. Over the the trials since the first, the kiss had been swift and almost distracted, getting moreso as each trial went on. Not so this morning as she lingered in his arms and pulled herself close to him, teetering for the first time on the edge of a very different agenda. But, the whistling kettle reminded them both; eggs were cooking and they had plenty to do.
As they looked at the space which had been hers, she slipped her hand into his. "It was my palace. How quickly I become greedy. Come on then." She had a nature which was pragmatic at its core. So, once the furniture was in, she stood in the middle of the room and beamed, her eyes shone with delight now, as they had lit with passion just a break before. "You have given me the most wonderful gift, Padraig, and I can not thank you enough." He had given her a space to be, to be private and think. She had needed that and the last twelve trials had been a time of thought. Especially the latter ones, the ones since she'd stopped going to Tristan's house. In that time, she had made decisions which may well impact the rest of her life.
Sitting on the bed, she scooched over so that she left room for him to sit, if he wanted to. "I've made a decision. I'm not going to get the brand before we go. If ever." She gestured to her face, although she suspected she didn't need to. "I don't want to be treated like a former slave. I know how I was treated before and I know how I'm treated now" Both of the jumpers she had bought hid all of her brands. "So on this campaign, I'm going to try and hide them. But if people see them and we share a tent, they are going to assume things that aren't true. So I need you to know I don't care." Quite how and when that happened she did not know, but it was true. "It doesn't hurt me. All the people who I want to know, they know that I'm free. They know what you mean to me, what you are to me. But,you are part of this too, and they are going to make assumptions about you too."
It was hard to explain, difficult to put into words, but she attempted it. Not least because she didn't want him to think that this was some slave thing when it wasn't. "I choose you, Padraig. Always. But you can choose too. I'm not asking you for permission. This affects us both so it has to be something we both are happy with. I'm not getting branded, but how we deal with that is up to us." She smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek, a gesture she had not made for ten trials or more. "So, think about it, we can talk about it later if you want. We have packing to do, for this campaign?" It was very much a question that she spoke. If he wanted to talk now, she was more than happy to do so, but if he did not, that was fine too.
This trial, it was her turn to make breakfast. She'd been up, as always, since before the suns and had put his experimenting equipment (this seemed to consist, this time, of two glass vials and a very strange looking substance) out of the way so that he wouldn't trip on it, stand on it or otherwise kick it all over the floor when he got out of bed. When he got up, and he was never a late riser, she was up and dressed and welcomed him, as she always did, with a kiss and a cup of tea. Over the the trials since the first, the kiss had been swift and almost distracted, getting moreso as each trial went on. Not so this morning as she lingered in his arms and pulled herself close to him, teetering for the first time on the edge of a very different agenda. But, the whistling kettle reminded them both; eggs were cooking and they had plenty to do.
As they looked at the space which had been hers, she slipped her hand into his. "It was my palace. How quickly I become greedy. Come on then." She had a nature which was pragmatic at its core. So, once the furniture was in, she stood in the middle of the room and beamed, her eyes shone with delight now, as they had lit with passion just a break before. "You have given me the most wonderful gift, Padraig, and I can not thank you enough." He had given her a space to be, to be private and think. She had needed that and the last twelve trials had been a time of thought. Especially the latter ones, the ones since she'd stopped going to Tristan's house. In that time, she had made decisions which may well impact the rest of her life.
Sitting on the bed, she scooched over so that she left room for him to sit, if he wanted to. "I've made a decision. I'm not going to get the brand before we go. If ever." She gestured to her face, although she suspected she didn't need to. "I don't want to be treated like a former slave. I know how I was treated before and I know how I'm treated now" Both of the jumpers she had bought hid all of her brands. "So on this campaign, I'm going to try and hide them. But if people see them and we share a tent, they are going to assume things that aren't true. So I need you to know I don't care." Quite how and when that happened she did not know, but it was true. "It doesn't hurt me. All the people who I want to know, they know that I'm free. They know what you mean to me, what you are to me. But,you are part of this too, and they are going to make assumptions about you too."
It was hard to explain, difficult to put into words, but she attempted it. Not least because she didn't want him to think that this was some slave thing when it wasn't. "I choose you, Padraig. Always. But you can choose too. I'm not asking you for permission. This affects us both so it has to be something we both are happy with. I'm not getting branded, but how we deal with that is up to us." She smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek, a gesture she had not made for ten trials or more. "So, think about it, we can talk about it later if you want. We have packing to do, for this campaign?" It was very much a question that she spoke. If he wanted to talk now, she was more than happy to do so, but if he did not, that was fine too.
Off Topic
Modnote: I've deducted 3x balls of yarn and have added 1xscarf, 1xhat, 2xpair socks and 1xpair gloves for Faith. Padraig could you do the same?