Plourr Estillo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting_mad) wrote2007-07-01 10:32 pm
fighting_mad) wrote2007-07-01 10:32 pm
[OOM] Eiattu - Private Office
It is monsoon season on Eiattu VI.
The sky belches torrential rain day and night, black clouds hanging overhead. They block the sun, the moon, the stars – any sign that there is life in the universe apart from the life that is drowning on Eiattu VI.
This is normal, the Empress Isplourrdacartha reminds herself, standing at the enormous window in her office, her forehead pressed against the cool transparisteel. The reminder, though, does little for the trapped feeling settling in her chest like a couple of Star Destroyer-sized rocks.
She shakes her head once, mouth tight, and turns away from the sight of the clouds looming over the capital city, the rain pounding down. She drops into her chair and rolls back to her desk.
She flips through the appointments on her datapad, brushing hair out of her face, but her eyes keep straying to several blank sheets of flimsi sitting on the desk. After a moment, Plourr lays her palm on them and pulls them to herself, picking up a stylus. She writes.
Aeryn:
Don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. Seems to be a trend with us lately, so I figured a note couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
I talked to John the other day. He said his door was back. Which means, I’m sure, he’s going to go charging off into danger like a man, which means you’ll be going after him to try to drag his stupid male ass out of trouble. I told him, but I’m telling you, too: anything you need – weapons, supplies, whatever – is yours. I don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing, but a good blaster, couple of explosives… Never hurts. It’s surprising how many resources you have at your fingertips when you’re a planetary ruler. Just ask. Wish I could do more.
I extended an invitation to Eiattu to Crichton, too; hope you don’t mind. Oh, right, I don’t care; too bad if you do kriffing mind. I know you better than to think you’ll come before you go out that door, but you’re welcome any time. Force knows I could use somebody to talk to who isn’t constantly talking to me as if I were an idiot. My “condition” is going to involve my fist and someone else’s face, the next time I hear that word.
When you’re back, you’re coming when Rial and I renew our vows. Only a small thing, here, no big deal, but I invited you, so I’ll kick your ass if you don’t show. John’s invited, too, as long as he can keep his mouth shut for the couple of minutes it’ll take. I’ve never met anyone who can talk like that man, Sun.
There isn’t much to report, for my part. The planet has been quiet. My latest project is upgrading the fleet. My people are good, but the equipment is old, outdated, falling apart. I’m in talks with shipbuilders, the New Republic government, some scavengers, my contacts on the black market (my advisors are appropriately scandalized).
Baby’s a girl. We have holos. She’s finally starting to look less like a creepy little monster. She’s starting to get vaping big, too. This is what I get for frelling a man who’s bigger than me. If I’d married a midget, his genes could have cancelled mine out. Getting kriffing fatter by the day.
Haven’t named her yet. We’ve been arguing over itand everything else for a while. I’m just about ready to call her You or It. Princess Hey You has a ring to it, don’t you think?
Four months left. Not long enough. I’m – The color of the ink changes, here, as if there were a pause from writing my word to the next – fucking scared, Aeryn. What if something goes wrong? What happens when I’m not a good mother? And we still have enemies. They’ll try to use her against us. It’s a hell of a world we’re bringing a baby into. How are we supposed to take care of her and fulfill all our duties? What if – The ink changes from blue to black – she turns out mad, like my brother?
All these people are driving me out of my mind. “You must be so pleased, Empress.” “Here, have a seat, take a rest, Empress.” “Are you feeling well enough to do that, Plourr?” I feel FINE. I’m fucking pregnant, not helpless or STUPID. Empresses on my planet were figureheads, back in the day. They played hostess, they looked pretty, and they popped out royal heirs. Does that seem like a PROBLEM to anyone besides me?
The people are smarter than to expect that of me. Not sure about the old nobility. The Pernons.
Black ink to red ink.
I’ll handle them. I always do.
I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to let you disappear again, Aeryn. Both of us could use a wingmate right about now.
Don’t forget about us out there. Take care of each other.
May the Force be with you.
Plourr
She picks up the letter and flips back to the first page full of bold Aurebesh characters.
By the time she’s through the second page, she is shaking her head. She tears the letter into shreds and opens her hand over the wastebin, letting the words rain down into the garbage.
Plourr pulls out a new sheet of flimsi.
She writes fast, and as she sets down the stylus with a quiet click, Plourr gives the new note a cursory reread. She nods once. She folds it, writes 'Aeryn Sun' on the outside, and flips it slowly between her fingers. At a knock on the door, though, she quickly tucks the scrap of flimsi into her tunic.
"Come on, then, what do you want?" she calls, and she sits up straight and inclines her head in response to the entering aide's bow, the picture of an empress but for the way that she glances from time to time at the dark sky.
The sky belches torrential rain day and night, black clouds hanging overhead. They block the sun, the moon, the stars – any sign that there is life in the universe apart from the life that is drowning on Eiattu VI.
This is normal, the Empress Isplourrdacartha reminds herself, standing at the enormous window in her office, her forehead pressed against the cool transparisteel. The reminder, though, does little for the trapped feeling settling in her chest like a couple of Star Destroyer-sized rocks.
She shakes her head once, mouth tight, and turns away from the sight of the clouds looming over the capital city, the rain pounding down. She drops into her chair and rolls back to her desk.
She flips through the appointments on her datapad, brushing hair out of her face, but her eyes keep straying to several blank sheets of flimsi sitting on the desk. After a moment, Plourr lays her palm on them and pulls them to herself, picking up a stylus. She writes.
Aeryn:
Don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. Seems to be a trend with us lately, so I figured a note couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
I talked to John the other day. He said his door was back. Which means, I’m sure, he’s going to go charging off into danger like a man, which means you’ll be going after him to try to drag his stupid male ass out of trouble. I told him, but I’m telling you, too: anything you need – weapons, supplies, whatever – is yours. I don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing, but a good blaster, couple of explosives… Never hurts. It’s surprising how many resources you have at your fingertips when you’re a planetary ruler. Just ask. Wish I could do more.
I extended an invitation to Eiattu to Crichton, too; hope you don’t mind. Oh, right, I don’t care; too bad if you do kriffing mind. I know you better than to think you’ll come before you go out that door, but you’re welcome any time. Force knows I could use somebody to talk to who isn’t constantly talking to me as if I were an idiot. My “condition” is going to involve my fist and someone else’s face, the next time I hear that word.
When you’re back, you’re coming when Rial and I renew our vows. Only a small thing, here, no big deal, but I invited you, so I’ll kick your ass if you don’t show. John’s invited, too, as long as he can keep his mouth shut for the couple of minutes it’ll take. I’ve never met anyone who can talk like that man, Sun.
There isn’t much to report, for my part. The planet has been quiet. My latest project is upgrading the fleet. My people are good, but the equipment is old, outdated, falling apart. I’m in talks with shipbuilders, the New Republic government, some scavengers, my contacts on the black market (my advisors are appropriately scandalized).
Baby’s a girl. We have holos. She’s finally starting to look less like a creepy little monster. She’s starting to get vaping big, too. This is what I get for frelling a man who’s bigger than me. If I’d married a midget, his genes could have cancelled mine out. Getting kriffing fatter by the day.
Haven’t named her yet. We’ve been arguing over it
Four months left. Not long enough. I’m – The color of the ink changes, here, as if there were a pause from writing my word to the next – fucking scared, Aeryn. What if something goes wrong? What happens when I’m not a good mother? And we still have enemies. They’ll try to use her against us. It’s a hell of a world we’re bringing a baby into. How are we supposed to take care of her and fulfill all our duties? What if – The ink changes from blue to black – she turns out mad, like my brother?
All these people are driving me out of my mind. “You must be so pleased, Empress.” “Here, have a seat, take a rest, Empress.” “Are you feeling well enough to do that, Plourr?” I feel FINE. I’m fucking pregnant, not helpless or STUPID. Empresses on my planet were figureheads, back in the day. They played hostess, they looked pretty, and they popped out royal heirs. Does that seem like a PROBLEM to anyone besides me?
The people are smarter than to expect that of me. Not sure about the old nobility. The Pernons.
Black ink to red ink.
I’ll handle them. I always do.
I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to let you disappear again, Aeryn. Both of us could use a wingmate right about now.
Don’t forget about us out there. Take care of each other.
May the Force be with you.
Plourr
She picks up the letter and flips back to the first page full of bold Aurebesh characters.
By the time she’s through the second page, she is shaking her head. She tears the letter into shreds and opens her hand over the wastebin, letting the words rain down into the garbage.
Plourr pulls out a new sheet of flimsi.
She writes fast, and as she sets down the stylus with a quiet click, Plourr gives the new note a cursory reread. She nods once. She folds it, writes 'Aeryn Sun' on the outside, and flips it slowly between her fingers. At a knock on the door, though, she quickly tucks the scrap of flimsi into her tunic.
"Come on, then, what do you want?" she calls, and she sits up straight and inclines her head in response to the entering aide's bow, the picture of an empress but for the way that she glances from time to time at the dark sky.