Plourr Estillo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting_mad) wrote2006-12-14 10:59 pm
fighting_mad) wrote2006-12-14 10:59 pm
[OOM] Eiattu
The Priamsta base is opulent, as Plourr had expected; even while waging guerilla warfare, even in the smaller of their bases, the nobles live above the means of Eiatti commoners. They maintain a high standard of living tucked away in the jungle, klicks and klicks from the nearest civilization.
"Princess," says Count Saume, and he rises as she sweeps into the room.
Dressed in the height of royal luxury--white dress cinched at the waist with purple, a purple sash and cloak, eyes lined in kohl, thick red royal pendant hanging around her neck--Princess Isplourrdacartha Estillo inclines her head ever-so-slightly in response to the count rising. "Count Saume."
"May I interest you in some refreshment?" He waves a corpulent hand over the bar set up alongside the heavy synthwood table, with its rows of crystalline bottles and its 'droid 'tender. Both the count and Isplourrdacartha have a protocol 'droid, too, along with guards. Plourr has two and an aide--Count Hilunda--behind her, with two more guarding the door outside; Saume has two and two lesser nobles flanking him, with a number of security forces positioned outside. There is not a weapon to be found among them. They're all in a pile three sectors (of the base) from here. The scanner even detected the tiny, concealed dagger that the princess always carries on her person.
Isplourrdacartha is not accepting any food or drink from the Priamsta that hasn't been chemically tested. She smiles tightly, shaking her head with a tinkle of earrings. "No thank you, Count. Shall we get to business?"
The count purses his lips. "Very well." He gestures to the table across from him as he settles into his seat once again; one of his guards comes around and pulls out a chair for her.
"Thank you." The princess stands tall and does not move until the guard has returned to his own side of the large table. Then she sits, the very picture of elegance and grace, and she folds her hands on the tabletop. "I will be succint, Count -- we both want the same thing here."
He settles back in his chair, seemingly amused. "We do?"
Her eyes narrow. "We do. Peace, Count Saume. Peace for Eiattu. Lest you forget, we are here to accomplish it."
"Oh, of course, Princess, of course." He takes his drink--emerald wine, from the look of it--from an aide and sips at it appreciatively. He smacks his lips and sets down the wine glass with a clink. "I just believe that we may differ on how to bring peace to Eiattu."
"Oh?" she asks, her eyes narrowed further. A comm beeps from behind her, and she hears Hilunda's voice murmur before his footsteps approach. She frowns and half-turns because this had better be important, but then something stings her neck. She raises a hand to slap at it but -- there's a hand there. She smacks a hand and something--something that isn't bone or organic--snaps and she flies to her feet, knocking her chair over.
The second the princess is up, she regrets it; the world lurches crazily and she staggers, grabbing at the table. She can't wait for it to right itself; she turns. Hilunda stands there, his hand clenched around something and his face serious, and she touches her neck. There is something long and thin sticking out, her skin wet just beneath it, and she yanks it out of her neck. It is a needle and her fingers are spotted with red red or is it green and she looks at Hilunda and says you son of a bitch and she hauls back and punches him. He goes down and she realizes for the first time that there are tinny voices shouting and she looks back just in time to see Aurelia fall to the ground atop Rher her throat an angry red (or green or purple it's hard to say really oh sith what is happening but she knows) slash and her eyes glassy.
Hands of all colors and sizes and some of them are not right she knows she still knows they grab at her and she fights she won't let them take her down she drives her elbow into a gut and she grabs a guard by his hair and throws him into another but staggering staggering. The world rises up before her and she thinks she's going to be sick and it's all spinninggggg and she is already falling when a fist catches her with a right or is it left hook to the face a dull eruption of red taste she hits something and her eyes won't--
stay
open.
"Princess," says Count Saume, and he rises as she sweeps into the room.
Dressed in the height of royal luxury--white dress cinched at the waist with purple, a purple sash and cloak, eyes lined in kohl, thick red royal pendant hanging around her neck--Princess Isplourrdacartha Estillo inclines her head ever-so-slightly in response to the count rising. "Count Saume."
"May I interest you in some refreshment?" He waves a corpulent hand over the bar set up alongside the heavy synthwood table, with its rows of crystalline bottles and its 'droid 'tender. Both the count and Isplourrdacartha have a protocol 'droid, too, along with guards. Plourr has two and an aide--Count Hilunda--behind her, with two more guarding the door outside; Saume has two and two lesser nobles flanking him, with a number of security forces positioned outside. There is not a weapon to be found among them. They're all in a pile three sectors (of the base) from here. The scanner even detected the tiny, concealed dagger that the princess always carries on her person.
Isplourrdacartha is not accepting any food or drink from the Priamsta that hasn't been chemically tested. She smiles tightly, shaking her head with a tinkle of earrings. "No thank you, Count. Shall we get to business?"
The count purses his lips. "Very well." He gestures to the table across from him as he settles into his seat once again; one of his guards comes around and pulls out a chair for her.
"Thank you." The princess stands tall and does not move until the guard has returned to his own side of the large table. Then she sits, the very picture of elegance and grace, and she folds her hands on the tabletop. "I will be succint, Count -- we both want the same thing here."
He settles back in his chair, seemingly amused. "We do?"
Her eyes narrow. "We do. Peace, Count Saume. Peace for Eiattu. Lest you forget, we are here to accomplish it."
"Oh, of course, Princess, of course." He takes his drink--emerald wine, from the look of it--from an aide and sips at it appreciatively. He smacks his lips and sets down the wine glass with a clink. "I just believe that we may differ on how to bring peace to Eiattu."
"Oh?" she asks, her eyes narrowed further. A comm beeps from behind her, and she hears Hilunda's voice murmur before his footsteps approach. She frowns and half-turns because this had better be important, but then something stings her neck. She raises a hand to slap at it but -- there's a hand there. She smacks a hand and something--something that isn't bone or organic--snaps and she flies to her feet, knocking her chair over.
The second the princess is up, she regrets it; the world lurches crazily and she staggers, grabbing at the table. She can't wait for it to right itself; she turns. Hilunda stands there, his hand clenched around something and his face serious, and she touches her neck. There is something long and thin sticking out, her skin wet just beneath it, and she yanks it out of her neck. It is a needle and her fingers are spotted with red red or is it green and she looks at Hilunda and says you son of a bitch and she hauls back and punches him. He goes down and she realizes for the first time that there are tinny voices shouting and she looks back just in time to see Aurelia fall to the ground atop Rher her throat an angry red (or green or purple it's hard to say really oh sith what is happening but she knows) slash and her eyes glassy.
Hands of all colors and sizes and some of them are not right she knows she still knows they grab at her and she fights she won't let them take her down she drives her elbow into a gut and she grabs a guard by his hair and throws him into another but staggering staggering. The world rises up before her and she thinks she's going to be sick and it's all spinninggggg and she is already falling when a fist catches her with a right or is it left hook to the face a dull eruption of red taste she hits something and her eyes won't--
stay
open.