fighting_mad | (no subject)

(no subject)

It would be startling, if anyone were watching. One moment, the empress is leaving the banquet hall in a poorly-hidden bad temper, and the next, a dark-haired aide is suddenly by her side as they step through the archway and continue down the corridor.

Plourr glances over her shoulder, but no one at the table appears to have been looking.

The corridor--walls steely blue, and floors a dark gray shining marble--is simple and empty, but for a guard who turns the corner and bows his head respectfully as he passes. Plourr tips her head in return, and she looks back again as they round the corner. No one appears to be staring or coming after.

Her evil plan is working?

"Welcome to Eiattu."

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Plourr tenses when she hears the footsteps, starts to shield the glowrod and go for the holdout blaster that she keeps strapped to her arm under her sleeve -- but then she hears the whistle echoing off the walls, and she relaxes.

"Hey, Pernon. Your mother's looking for you," she calls. "Hiding, are we?"

The whistling stops, and Rial comes around the corner, his own glowrod slightly dimmer.

"Yup. And so are you, I see." Hasn't quite noticed Ajedrez yet.

"Nah," she says. "Too late for that, anyway. I already got ambushed. I'm just taking the new aide here to the armory." She steps out of the way, leaving the woman behind her clearly visible in the light provided by the glowrods.

"Ah, well, that's good." He peers at the aide, thoughtfully, then pauses.

"Excuse me, miss, you look very familiar. Do I know you?"

"I'm sure I couldn't possibly say, your Consortship," the aide says a little breathlessly.

In what stands out as being an American-Mexican accent.

(Plourr is snickering, for the record.)

"...Beatriz?"

Rial turns a confused gaze on Plourr, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"Ibella," she corrects. "Barillo."

Beat.

"Or should that be Ibella Barilla? Sound closer to your universe?"

Considering the double Ls don't actually come out.

"Either way, you sound like a freak," Plourr points out, and she glances at Rial. "Didn't your mother ever tell you your face would stick if you stare like that?"

"Barillo is my real name," she points out.

"I mean a freak for around here."

"Wait," says Rial, finally recovering his voice, "wait just a second. Um."

Beat.

"I'm confused."

"Well," Ajedrez-Beatriz-Ibella says in an overly-patient voice, "your darling wife decided to show me your blasters. And then we ran into your mother."

"My mother - oh, dear." Rial glances around, then drops a quick half-bow.

"In that case, I'm off. Enjoy your stay at the palace." And with no more then a raised eyebrow at Plourr that says "you'll explain later," he's gone.

She blinks at that, rather more taken back then she would care to admit.

"I don't," says Plourr, after a moment, "know if he's running away from her, or toward her."

Beat.

"Either way, I'm going to kill him."

"Men," is Ajedrez's comment.

"Idiot," Plourr mutters to herself, and then she says, "Well, come on, then. He may be running, but we've got an armory to get to."

She waves her on into the dark passageways, and while she's talking, she leads them on a twisting, impossible-to-follow route through turns and quick corners, never hesitating.

"I'm not sure what kind of stuff you're looking for."

"Well, neither am I," Ajedrez points out as she follows.

"Explosives, blasters, old-fashioned projectile weapons, bladed weapons, mines?" She runs her hand along a nondescript section of wall, and a panel slides open. She steps through.

They're in yet another palace corridor, which looks very much like the ones that they've already been through.

Except for the two armed guards in royal purple livery standing at attention on either side of a door at the end of the hall.

Plourr heads straight for them.

She opens her mouth to answer, but the guards she shuts her mouth.

Plourr can talk, oh yes she can.

"Your Majesty," says the guard on the left, bowing deeply, and the other one bows as well.

Plourr inclines her head, gracefully. "Erian, Wer. The situation here has been uneventful, I trust?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good," says Plourr, and she taps a code into the keypad in the wall just over Wer's head. "Carry on, gentlemen." She sweeps past them and through the door that hisses open.

The room inside is dark, but the way that their footsteps immediately echo suggests a large space.

Ajedrez just pads at her heels, demure and surprisingly good at it.

At the loudness of the echoes, she pauses.

The door hisses closed.

Plourr's strong voice rings out. "Empress Isplourrdacartha Estillo. My father was Emperor Uthorferrellcartha Estillo the Third. Security parameters, off." A low beep. "Lights." The lights come up.

The 'room' is really more of a warehouse, the ceiling rising high and the walls extending far, and they are covered in shelves, racks, and all sorts of ways of holding weaponry. As for the weaponry itself -- there is too much to take in all at once.

Racks of blaster rifles, one entire row of tiny holdout blasters; a shelf full of round thermal detonators, each carefully kept in its place. One far wall holds mines, stacked atop each other. There are blocks of knives, of vibroblades, of forcepikes and truncheons and even more exotic-looking weaponry -- even some swords.

It is everything needed to outfit the entirety of the capital city's defense forces, in overwhelming quantities.

She doesn't go 'oh, my'.

But it's a struggle, and she can't stop her hands from moving, just once.