fighting_mad | [OOM] Eiattu

[OOM] Eiattu - Palace Corridor

The private hall outside the royal apartments is quiet now; the warm, faded red walls and shining tile floors tell no secrets. The two guards dressed in charcoal and purple uniform, standing uneasily outside of the door, however, are a different story. For one thing, there only ought to be one of them. For another --

Lelian and Marama stand in close conference. His arms are crossed over his chest, and her hands are twisting in front of her. Every so often, one of them glances down the hall or starts to bring a commlink to his or her mouth, but one guard always halts the other. Neither of them has produced a weapon, but both look deeply troubled and out of their element.

"Do you think we should call--" asks anxious Marama for the fifteenth time, ginger hair piled high, but Lelian only shakes his head and begins to pace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rial takes that opportunity to move into the room, frown now taking up a permanent residence on his face.

"Plourr, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong," she says. It's impossible to put a label on her tone of voice. Bitter, furious, maybe; bleeding, yes. She draws back and slam! hits the punching bag so hard that it bounces on its chain. For a second, her face is visible as it swings. Set and pale and wild. "What's wrong?" Wham!

Oh, kriff this is not good and Rial moves forward, "Plourr, I need you to talk to me."

Reaching forward when she pauses for just a second, hand grasping her shoulder, "I need to know what's wrong."

She spins the second he touches her; her hand is already drawn back and balled into a fist and she hasn't felt a surge of white-hot helpless terrified fury like this since she was tied to a chair out in the jungle and beaten.

She's swinging before she even thinks about it. She does recognize him; does change her aim from his jaw to his shoulder.

She doesn't pull the punch, though.

Rial doesn't make a noise or cry out or look hurt the way he would if she was punching him for fun and he jokes that he submits to all of her abuse. He just winces and his breath catches for a moment - she's a strong woman, that's gonna bruise - but he doesn't move his hand.

He doesn't say anything, either, just looks at her. Quiet, betrayed because they're supposed to talk about things and she's not supposed to hit him.

That look is a thousand times more effective than anything he ever could have said verbally or demonstratively. She rocks back on her heels and wraps her arms around herself, and she stares at her toes, quiet.

Her face can't settle on an expression. It flashes through them too fast.

He waits for a moment or two more, then squeezes her shoulder lightly.

"Tell me."

Plourr Estillo doesn't sugarcoat. She doesn't beat around the bush. She could say, 'I went to the doctor today' and keep moving in circles around it, but that's not her style. Never has been, never will be. Not even now.

She sets her jaw and looks up.

"I'm kriffing pregnant."

...oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Rial thinks he's smiling. He's almost positive he's smiling, just for a second, and then the smile is gone because Plourr is looking at him and she is really, really not looking happy.

So he says the first thing that comes into his mind.

"How?"

His face lights up, if only for a second or two. It's impossible to miss.

It does nothing for the cold feeling in her gut.

"Once a month. That's all I have to vaping do; the same day, once a month. But we stayed at Milliways a couple weeks ago and I thought--" She shakes her head sharply, crossing her arms tight. She can't believe she was so fucking stupid, thinking biology would freeze along with time. No one to blame but herself.

She spits, "I didn't think."

It's a hell of a lot easier to be angry than it is to figure out how else to feel.

"And now...I mean, you're pregnant. You are going to have a baby."

He tries to keep his face serious, he really does. And he succeeds, sort of, if only for Plourr's sake and the look on her face. And because he knows that no matter how much he wants this, how much he's excited because they are going to have a baby, it's still going to be pretty damn hard.

So he just squeezes her shoulder, drops his hand to his side and glances at the punching bag.

"It'll be okay."

You are going to have a baby.

It's not quite a flinch, not quite a wince, but something in her pale face shifts at that.

"Yeah," she mutters, her mouth set into a thin line. Her shoulder is one giant knot of tensed muscle under his hand.

Rial hesitates a beat, then moves forward, hugs her gently.

"It'll be okay," he repeats, more for her sake then his. "It'll be okay."

Plourr doesn't know how to say, 'no, it won't.' Not long ago, she would have said just that. But she knows just how badly he wants this, and she knows that it would hurt him, and even if her instinct is to lash out -- she doesn't always give in to her instincts.

Her arms are crossed over her chest and staying that way, and she stands evenly on bare feet, not leaning in. But she turns her face and rests her jaw against his shoulder, and all she wants to do is scream.

He holds her that way for a long, long moment, then moves away.

"Do you want to be alone?"

The answer that comes immediately is 'yes.' She wants to be left alone. She wants to hit something til it breaks or her knuckles do; wants to shout at the top of her lungs; wants to go on a run and stay on it until it's all behind her. Wants to forget that there's life inside of her.

There's no outrunning this, though.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair and -- honest, tired -- says, "I don't fucking know."

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But Rial has a strange urge to tell her that she needs to watch her language, she's going to have a baby.

He doesn't. He just nods, shifts awkwardly, and glances around for something to capture his attention. Nothing does, so eventually he glances back at Plourr.

"Have you...seen a doctor, and everything?"

She nods. "I went to the infirmary, earlier. Was sick of not feeling like myself." Great, she thinks, and her thought process is pretty easy to follow as her face falls. Got how many more fucking months of that now?

She catches her lower lip between her teeth. "Four weeks. Everything's healthy." She crosses her arms again. It's a defensive posture, and at the moment, well -- she has never looked so young.

Rial reaches out, then thinks better of it and takes his hand back to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"That's good."

She'd thought he would be happy.

She thinks she could deal with even that better than she can with ... whatever this is. These awkward pauses. That solemn expression.

She struggles on; stands tall and white and tense. "He gave me--" Her mouth closes.

Kriff her pride.

Kriff the part of her that wants to punch a wall until something snaps.

She takes two fast, silent steps forward and wraps her arms around her husband, resting her chin on his shoulder, and she holds on tight.

Rial tenses, surprised and shocked and confused and then most of his brain shuts down apart from the bit that says this is his wife, this is Plourr and she's clinging to him and that means he holds on tight.

So he holds on tight, nose buried in her hair, not really saying anything. Just holding her.

Holding on.

She gets as close as she can and she stares sightlessly at the rafters a moment before she closes her eyes, pressing her temple against his. Her hands curl in fistfuls of the back of his tunic. It's vaping stupid, but there's some comfort in this; in feeling his strong arms around her, in listening to him breathe, in the smell of familiar aftershave.

It's small comfort, but Plourr will take what she can get.

Rial smiles, a little, and tightens his grasp. He thinks it's all going to be okay.

And maybe he'll be right, maybe he'll be wrong, but Rial's always been to hope for the happy endings.

That makes one of them.

Eventually, she moves.

Eventually, she loosens her hold on him.

Eventually, she quietly smooths down where she crumpled up the back of his tunic.

"Hey."

His voice is soft, quiet, and he's trying to look her in the eye.

"Are you going to be okay?"

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