fighting_mad | [OOM] Eiattu

"I don't know if I'll ever leave." Rial, on the contrary, is still watching the sky and smiling.

"Got my roots here."

"Mmm," she agrees complacently, tangling her legs more thoroughly with his. "You do."

"And you," he says, tugging on her hair, "can put down roots with me."

"Mmmf," she says, less complacently this time as she bats a hand in the general direction of the hair-pulling. Then what he has said sinks in.

She doesn't move for a moment. Then she shifts again, around the stone digging into her side. "Yeah."

Oh.

Rial's not sure if he's said the wrong or thing or not, but he shuts up just in case, leaving her hair alone and glancing back up at the sky.

And now he's silent, and she doesn't have to be looking at him to know what his expression is. She doesn't do this often, hates doing it, but she breaks the silence, after a minute or two of it.

"I spent so long on the run," she says, slowly. "Even once I'd joined the Rebels, we were constantly moving to stay ahead of the Empire, and when I hooked up with the Rogues -- I could forget about staying in one place longer than a couple of days." She half-glances up at his chin, but her head is in an awkward position for it, and she goes back to looking out across the field.

"I know that's what I'm doing here now, with you; roots and permanence and all." A wry, almost-amused twist of her mouth against his chest. "I'm more self-aware than a vaping lot of people would try to tell you." She sobers again immediately. "It's my planet, and with you here -- I'm not going anywhere. It's just ... it's strange, still, to remember it."

Contemplatively now, more to herself than to him, "I haven't lived anyplace in particular in 12 years. More than half my life." The wind whistles down through the grasslands, and she closes her mouth and listens to it and to his heartbeat.

Rial's silent, for a long time.

He grew up here. When he closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of the grass he remembers when he was six, running through fields and he stares at the sky, remembering twelve and sleeping in a tree overnight because he was running away from his parents. Rial remembers fifteen, an awkward kiss between him and the gardener's daughter when he thought himself hopelessly in love and wrote bad poetry to her every night.

Rial shuts his eyes and breathes in Plourr's scent, sweat and grass and sunshine. He sees himself over a year ago, watching her descend the steps and wondering if she'd remember him. He sees her sitting on a desk and drinking whiskey, eyes dark and slightly annoyed. He sees her laughing at him, with him, and he sees her in a wedding dress, silver flask dangling from her fingers.

Rial breathes in the smell of the grass, the smell of the soil and the trees and the air and the clouds and Plourr and he sees his whole life spread out behind him.

"Plourr," he says finally, closing his eyes.

"Plourr," but he's not exactly sure what to say or how to say it.

"Plourr," he says except he hasn't got the words.

"I love you," he says finally, and watches his life spread out in front of him.

Plourr grew up here, too, but hers was too fast; one night, full of the screams of loved ones, of blood, of the impossible, of listening to thuvasaurs snap bones and gnaw through ligaments. One early morning of shaking while she sobbed silently, stowed away on a cargo ship bound offworld. There was still growing to be done, after that, still becoming a tall girl with no hair and quick fists and an ugly mouth, but the growing up began and ended that night she was nine and lost everything.

"Rial Rial Rial." The mocking is a lot gentler than it could be, especially when her eyes flick up and she says, "Love you, too."

Rial manages a little creative twisting until he can shift and press a kiss to the very top of her head.

"Yeah. I know."

Plourr is flopped very comfortably there, tangled up with him and basking in the sunlight.

Plourr halfsmiles and really isn't moving.

No. No, neither is Rial.

So time passes, and they lie there together. Rial's pretty sure that he drifts off at some point, just like he's pretty sure from the feeling on his face that he's getting a little sunburn across his nose. But he's content to lie there, with her, eyes shut, breathing deep and even.

Time passes, but Rial only really notices when he cracks an eye open to investigate why his sun seems to have gone away, and discovers some rather threatening-looking clouds.

"Plourr..."

Plourr mumbles something indistinguishable and reluctant, and remains motionless.

"Plourr."

He pokes her as best he can.

"Wake up, I think it's going to rain."

Plourr raises her head from his shoulder, bits of grass caught in her hair. It's more the poke than the talk of rain that does it.

"What?" she asks, digging the heel of her hand into her eyes.

"Rain," he repeats, already struggling out from under her.

"Look up."

Plourr flops onto her back and stares up at the dark gray clouds overhead.

"Oh," she says. An errant raindrop splashes across her nose. "Damn." She rolls to her feet.

Fortunately, the air is warm, if a little muggy. A drop plonks onto the very top of Rial's head even as he moves toward the thaks.

"C'mon, we can probably beat it to the palace if we hurry."

The thaks aren't thrilled to be roused, either; they were comfortable, dammit! Koer turns her head to nip at the sleeve of Plourr's tunic as she hurriedly resaddles her, and Plourr swats at her nose with her elbow.

"Wanna bet?" she asks Rial with a grin, tightening the girth.

Erantu makes an annoyed noise and shifts away from Rial as he saddles up with suprising speed, pausing only to grin at his wife.

"Sure."

Plourr is up first, giving the saddle one last tug, and swinging up and into it in one fast, practiced movement. "Eat my dust, nobleboy," she says, grinning wildly. She wheels Koer's head about sharply and then the thak is off like a shot, thundering across the field.

Rial's a few seconds behind, and Erantu starts off when he's only halfway in the saddle. Still, he manages to swing his leg over and leans forward, chasing Koer and Plourr.

"Cheater!"

She only laughs loudly, letting the wind rip it from her. The raindrops fall faster now; there's no way that they're going to make it back to the palace before the sky opens up, and that's fine by Plourr.

As long as she wins.

She is going to win.

She has always been a skilled rider--"You ride well, my count! Not many can keep up with me when I get going!"--ever since she learned as a child. She's lighter, too, and Koer is swift. They clear a fallen tree and then Plourr lets the thak mare stretch out and really move.

The animal's webbed feet thunder across the ground, strong muscles working under orange scales, and Plourr grins from ear to ear in genuine pleasure. It's not flying, but it's as close as she comes on the ground.

"I guess some things you just don't forget."

Rial knows she'll win. He's heavier, less agile then her and he was never as skilled as she was. But he's decent, and even as rain peppers his shoulderblades he leans forward, fixes his eyes on Plourr's back, and grins.

If he can't win, well, he may as well catch up.

Over the fallen log, rain coming even harder. He blinks it out of his eyes and grins as they skid around a corner, starting to watch up.

And then the sky just opens and the proverbial flood rains down, soaking Rial near-instantly and leaving him laughing, spitting rainwater and trying to brush his hair from where it's become plastered to his face.

Is that cursing coming from up ahead?

It is. Plourr shifts the reins to one hand for a moment, long enough to shove her hair back, but aside from that and the swearing, makes no concession to the pouring rain. She glances back over her shoulder swiftly, gauging distance, and then she leans forward in the saddle and whispers something to the thak. Koer's proverbial ears flatten, but her gait slows as they come to the base of the hill. It's by no means enough to allow the other pair to shoot ahead, but it should be enough to allow them to pull up alongside.

Plourr is absolutely not above toying with her ~~prey~~ husband.

Rial takes the bait, and shifts his weight in the saddle, sits up and forward. Erantu pulls forward, shifting alongside Koer and Plourr. Rial beams at his wife, blowing rainwater from his nose, and then leans forward again.

"C'mon, Plourr, make an effort!"

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