fighting_mad: (long - kind of sad)
"There's been an incident," Count Hilunda had said quietly after interrupting the meeting, and the bottom of Plourr's stomach had dropped out. She'd excused herself and ducked out into the hallway with her aide, but Hilunda had tossed a meaningful look at Aurelia and Rher, and Plourr had walked down the hall with him, away from the guards.

They stand there, conferring in low, serious tones.
fighting_mad: (long - concentrating)
Plourr was in the middle of an informal audience with the governor of one of the planet's largest provinces when the aide interrupted and murmured in her ear that something had happened. She told him to define 'something,' and he had said the magic word: the Priamsta. She excused herself from the audience and left her office (something the palace was still atwitter over; princesses didn't have offices), and that was when she'd been told that Nental, one of Eiattu's larger cities, was in the process of being attacked by a group thought to be led by the rebelling nobles.

They were smart; going after the governmental buildings, the royally-operated or loyalist-run businesses rather than the ordinary people. Wouldn't do to alienate the people they were trying to gain control over, after all.



"I want Zee Squadron moving at all possible speed to Nental for air support. Who's in charge of the city's Guard? I need him on the comm ten minutes ago," Plourr snaps, cape and outer tunic lying crumpled on a table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It's still chaotic in the impromptou war room but less so than when she'd first entered and started setting things to rights.

She talks over the general buzz of voices, moving quickly from terminal to terminal and person to person, answering questions without hesitation and often in the middle of other sentences. "Someone tie in to the--yes, do that--to the newsfeeds; see what they're reporting, if we're not getting through on the official channels."

She bends over a terminal alongside a low level tech, named Zhaleian if she's remembering correctly at all, and he brings up a holo of a local reporter, standing on what looks to be a building roof. The dull whine-whump of heavy blaster and cannon bolts can be heard, and occasionally flash in the distance over the female reporter's head. Plourr watches and listens, her face tight and well under control, but furious.
fighting_mad: (any - asleep)
The secure apartments aren't bad, per se. They're just small. Plourr gets an idea of stark white and mismatched furnishings, but everything is blurry by the time she enters through the cordon of security measures and guards in the living area, so she could be wrong.

The bed is small and the sheets are scratchy, but she is beyond the point of caring. She collapses onto it, pulling a chrono toward herself and setting an alarm, and then she shuts her eyes. She is vaguely aware of small hands tugging off her boots (she lamely kicks at the hands, but they won't go away) and pulling the heavy coverlet up over her, and then

she sleeps like the dead.



Four hours later, there is a princess holding court in the lower level apartments' living area. Her court is made up of the four guards whose job it is to watch over the quarters; she likes them, but wishes that they could be stationed out in the corridor to allow for more privacy. However, when the aim is to keep their whereabouts quiet, it's not a good idea to have uniformed guards standing outside the door. So she's making the best of it, perched on a kitchen chair and listening intently to Lelian, Sy, and Aurelia, occasionally asking a shrewd question of them.

[OOM]

Aug. 31st, 2006 04:16 pm
fighting_mad: (long - melancholy)
Resigning her commission is surprisingly easy. A quick conversation with the captain and a handshake and she's gone.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
It doesn't hurt to leave her X-wing nearly as much as she thought it would. It doesn't hurt at all, not even when she's running her fingers over the hard-earned kill silhouettes that will be painted over, not even when she hauls herself up into the cockpit to remove the couple of personal items that she always kept there.
You saw her bathing on the roof
To be fair, nothing hurts right now.
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you.
She doesn't say goodbye to anyone. She's just another former Rogue, following Elscol, Dllr, Herian, Ibtisam, Nrin, Xarcee, Feylis, vanishing silently into the night just like the rest of them. Like the Darklighters and the Porkins and the Rendars and the Docs who came and went before her time.
She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She doesn't look back. Not once. Not walking out of the fighter landing bay, not in the shuttle leaving the Mon Redonda, not even once she has booked passage and is on a rattly old Stalwart-class light freighter bound for Eiattu.
She broke your throne, she cut your hair,
When the ship captain asks in the Alassar Major spaceport, she says the second alias that comes to mind. She thinks Hobbie would be horrified if he knew she gave her name as Klivian. Hell, maybe he'd laugh. She doesn't know.
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.
She wants to say Pernon, but she knows better than that.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah.
The bored customs official spells it wrong. Thou Klivan doesn't correct him. She just slips him a few credits so that he won't need to see her identification.
Maybe I've been here before,
I know this room, I've walked this floor.

It takes three days to reach Eiattu, not four.
I used to live alone before I knew you
The nobles have to know she's coming, have to be watching the Eiattu spaceports and passenger lists for her. If they weren't ready to make an attempt on her life, they wouldn't have acted.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
She wears a hooded cloak and she keeps to herself, away from the crew and four other passengers. She spends most of the voyage on the bunk that's too short for her, sleeping or watching the stars streak past.
love is not a victory march,


It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
The freighter sets down in Otomne. She rents a speeder and travels the four and a half hours west to the capital city.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
It's sick how easily she gets into the palace without identifying herself. Bribe a guard here (he's going to lose his job), use a secret passage there, and she's in.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
On her way through the lower levels of the palace, the servants' levels, she runs into young Hilunda first. He's a count who she's worked with a few times; he lacks political clout, but she approves of him. He seems to actually care about the people; a rarity among the nobles.
Remember when I moved in you?
Just the fact that he's in the palace at all is a good sign; it means that he didn't break ties with the government the way that the Priamsta stalwarts did. Though damned if she knows what he's doing in this level of the palace.
The holy dark was moving too
"Princess--" he starts, eyes wide, but she brushes right past him. He is forced to hurry after her to catch up.
And every breath we drew was hallelujah.
"Count Hilunda. I need an immediate update on what's happening; the damage done, who was killed," and her voice doesn't hesitate or pause, not even on that, "and the demands of the Priamsta. Then I want a way to get a message to them, and when I say 'then,' I mean now."
Maybe there's a God above
"Princess, maybe you wish to speak t--"
And all I ever learned from love
"Princess!" Malia, her maid, dashes down the hall, hair flying behind her and her simple dress rumpled as if hastily thrown on, and maybe that's a clue as to what Hilunda is doing in the servants' levels of the palace. "Princess, you d--" The girl gets one look at the princess's face. "You don't know," she breathes. "Please, come." She grabs her princess's hand and tugs insistently.
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
She shakes her head. "I don't have time f--"
It's not a cry you can hear at night
"No, no, you need to come now," says Malia, and Isplourrdacartha is so stunned by the girl's interruption, by her uncharacteristic strength, that she lets the girl lead her away from Hilunda, up the stairs and down a corridor.
It's not somebody who's seen the light
After a few minutes, she starts, "Malia," but then there are voices in the corridor ahead, and they turn the corner.
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
First, she sees a guard. One of her own. Then two more. Then a young baron and a layman advisor; two men who she would have expected to remain loyal to herself, and then, talking to them--
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah,

She has snapped. She has gone too long without sleep and her mind has just snapped.

Hallelujah.
fighting_mad: (any - asleep)
Plourr is not pleased when the comm starts buzzing at 0230. She yanks her government-issue pillow over her head.

It doesn't stop.

She swears viciously and runs a hand blindly along the floor of her tiny quarters, pawing through her things for the comm unit.

After a moment, she finds it, and it's a half-awake lieutenant who slaps the 'on' switch and snarls, "What the kriff do you want?"

[OOC: Last bit of whitetext from "The Warrior Princess," copyright Dark Horse Comics & Lucasfilm.]

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Plourr Estillo

January 2017

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