Jun. 14th, 2007

fighting_mad: (special - hallway)
“Plourr?” asks Rial, closing the conference room door on the confused faces of the Cabinet members. He reaches for his wife, worry evident in his frown. “Plourr, what’s wrong?”

They stand alone in the echoing, brightly lit corridor. Plourr grabs his hands and plants them on her belly, his palms pressed to her tunic.

Rial’s sense of alarm spikes. “Plourr—”

“Shhhh,” she says, sharply, staring at her stomach, and Rial shuts up and looks down.

Silence stretches, and stretches, and stretches and then Rial asks quietly, “Plourr, what—”

She makes a low, frustrated sound, and shakes her head. “Won’t perform in front of an audi—”

Something flutters under Rial’s hand. He freezes, standing still as a statue and staring downward. Then his eyes snap up, finding Plourr’s. “Was that…?”

She nods, eyes on his, and then she smiles quietly. Rial grins, sudden and broad and fierce, and he grabs her up in his arms and spins her around. Plourr yelps, and then she kicks up her heels and laughs.

Setting her back down, Rial cups her face in his hands and kisses her like his life depends on it. She leans against him, sinking a hand into his hair and rising up onto the balls of her feet – and then the baby kicks again and they both start.

“That’s our girl,” says Rial, grinning helplessly. “Our daughter.”

Plourr shoots a sidelong glance at him. “Guess she’s really in there, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, wrapping his arms around her as she does the same, resting her hands on the backs of his shoulders. He draws her in close. “She is, my princess.”

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Plourr Estillo

January 2017

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