fighting_mad | [oom] Eiattu

Entry tags:

[oom] Eiattu - Palace

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rial nods his thanks, pulling his hair out of the ponytail and walks over to the bedroom, slipping through the door and pulling it shut behind him.

And then he exhales, a long sigh, and just leans back against the door, not moving from where he is.

Eyes shut, "You okay?"

Plourr doesn't appear to have heard him. Immediately upon entering, she had kicked off her shoes -- thunk, thunk -- and moved to the mirror, where she is leaning her elbows on the bureau and removing her earrings.

At least, she tries to remove her earrings. Her fingers are cold and won't hold still, much less obey. She gives up after a moment with a low, helpless curse, and she rests her head in her hands, running shaking fingers through her hair.

Oh, damn.

Rial remains where he is for a moment, then opens his eyes and moves over to the bureau, standing behind her.

"Plourr."

They could play this game. She could say 'what' and he could say whatever it is that he wants to say, and they could go on like that.

Or Plourr could just cut to the chase and turn to him and wrap her arms around his neck, since that's going to be the end result of that whole emotionally stunted conversation.

She goes with the second option.

"Kriffing hands won't hold still," she murmurs into his shoulder, but it's an attempt at normalcy that is half-hearted at best.

"Yeah, I figured."

Rial wraps his arms around her, holding tightly. "Are you going to be okay?"

"A lot of people died today," she says, and her voice has gone contemplative and quiet, still steady. "Under my orders."

"Yeah. They did." He stares at the mirror behind her, frowning slightly. "But you did the right thing, Plourr. You did the right things."

"How do you know it was right? How can it be right, when hundreds of families are missing husbands and wives and sisters and brothers and children?" Her hands shake a little harder; her mouth sets into an angry line against his shoulder and she wills them to still.

"I've never ordered anyone to their death before."

"It was right, because..." and then there, right there, that's the problem. He doesn't know what to say, because when she puts it that way - when he really thinks about what he's about to say - it doesn't work anymore.

So he holds her a little tighter and says "It was right," because that's just what he says.

"Right," she says, voice hollow, and she falls silent.

She could handle only the soldiers. They would still weigh heavily on her conscience, as they do now, but in the end, they were soldiers. They knew the risks when they joined up.

It's the civilians, at least seventy-five of them, the newsfeeds are reporting, who are getting to her.

Once, she had spoken to Wedge about loss.

"It's a painful truth, but sometimes the only way evil can be defeated is by the selfless, sacrificial efforts of good people," she had told him. "We can only hope that when our time comes, the cause is as noble, and the need as great."

Where was the nobility in a library collapsing around you? Where was the selflessness in being caught in the crossfire and gunned down as you hid in a marketplace? There is none. Their deaths are on her head.

Suddenly, she finds herself with a hell of a lot more sympathy for Wedge Antilles and the commanders she'd served under during the Rebellion.

Rial doesn't say anything, maybe can't. Just holds her like she's the only thing keeping up right now.

He's not used to this. He can fight, yes, he's fought before, but that was all just him. This killing, this attacking cities full of unarmed civilians, this is new.

He doesn't think he likes it one bit.

They're holding each other up, and her hands may be the ones cold and shaky, but it's hard to say which of them is leaning more on the other right now.

And neither of them says a word for a while, and Plourr would never allow such weakness with anyone else around, but she sees Nental burning when she closes her eyes.

"I'm going to take a walk," Rial says finally, voice rough. "I'll be back soon."

She wipes her face behind his shoulder. "Okay," she says, and she releases him and walks to the 'fresher on silent, bare feet before he can see her face.

"Take someone with you," calls her voice through the open door.

"Do I have to?"

The whole point of this is to be alone.

She gives herself a second for a deep breath, furiously wiping her face again, and her voice is fairly even as she says, "Rial Pernon, if you don't take a guard with you I will kill you before any potential assassins get the chance."

"Fine," he says, running a hand through his hair, "I'll be back later." He walks out into the living area, glances at the two guards, and beckons to Lelian.

He goes to the roof, and halfway there he turns to Lelian and says, in a very quiet voice, that he is going to continue alone from here and if Lelian wants to keep his life and limbs intact, he's going to just wait here and never, never, ever tell the princess.

Once Rial's on the roof, he just sits, head on his knees, staring at the sky. The stars are out, glittering down at him, and Rial remembers other times in other places, other times he spent watching the sky, hoping it would give him the answers he wanted.

"It really is beautiful."

"As beautiful as the princess who watches."

He stays there, refusing to look at the ground for fear it would be the flame-torn streets of Nental. Stays, and thinks, and eventually comes down, stiff and cold from the cool night air. Lelian falls into step next to him, looking disapproving, but Rial ignores him, staring off into the distance. When they reach the apartments Rial goes straight in, then hesitates in the main area.

Wonders if Plourr's asleep.

The shower's running.

Yeah, she's probably not. Rial slips into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and then goes to sit down on the bed and wait for her to get out.

Which, hopefully, will be soon.

She's been in there a while. She'd figured she had two options here: bottle it up and explode when she can't afford to, or just turn on the shower and let go now, while she still can. So she's standing under the hot water, fully clothed, her hands braced against the tile.

She's been in there a while and she's really not planning on coming out any time soon.

It's ten minutes later that Rial frowns, sighs, and gets up, knocking on the 'fresher door.

"Plourr?"

She hears him dimly; hears the knock and his voice, and even if she can't quite make out what he's said, she can guess. She lifts an arm and swipes her forearm across her face, even if it's impossible to tell what's tears and what's hot water now.

"Yeah?" She swallows and says it again, louder, frowning at herself.

"Are you okay?"

He's starting to get worried, now.

"Yeah," she calls, even if it's choked. She's starting to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea she's had. It seemed logical and smart at the time and Plourr Ilo is not a crier, but she's discovering that once she gave in to the painful, fluttery feeling in her chest, it's hard to stop.

"You sure?"

He doesn't want her to drown, or anything.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject