[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

[fighting_mad]

Plourr takes a seat (slowly, bracing her hands on her knees) on the chest in the little room, taking a look around at their handiwork.

The room is light, cheerful, and airy in greens and yellows, the window open to the humid, sunny air of Eiattu VI, birds singing in the distance. There's a closet, a chest of drawers, a changing station, a chair, and a number of smaller items tucked here and there. A quietly proud someone (read: Plourr) has hung several cheery abstract paintings, along with a portrait. The six people in it share certain characteristics; Plourr and Rial stand together, and so do the other two pairs. One duo is elderly, with the white-haired and white-mustached, dignified man leaning on a cane, and his aristocratic wife standing beside him. The other pair are in early middle age, the man tall and broad-shouldered and handsome with brown hair and a broad smile, and the woman graceful and slight, her red hair wound up into a loose knot and her smirk mischievous.

(Plourr had looked at it for a long, long time, when Rial had first showed it to her.

"I -- thought it might be appropriate. The Pernons and the Estillos, yeah?"

"It's perfect."

"What?"

"It's perfect, Rial. It looks just like they did.")

Plourr glances at the portrait, then away.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

"We could 'do' the exact amount of times I accidentally get knocked up," she says, shaking her head.

"Which is once."

And only going to be once, says her face.

[eiattu_pride]

"Oh, fine." Rial sulks momentarily, before plonking down on the floor next to Plourr's big chair.

"How're you feeling?"

[fighting_mad]

She exhales. "I've been better."

[eiattu_pride]

"Uh-huh?" He reaches out, gently prods her foot. "Need anything?"

[fighting_mad]

She wiggles her toes at him.

[eiattu_pride]

"As milady commands."

He moves over until he's in a better position, then pulls her left foot off the dresser drawer, strong fingers massaging it easily.

"You're getting spoiled, you know that?"

[fighting_mad]

She always has loved his hands, right from the start. "You saying I don't deserve it?" she enquires, smirking lightly.

[eiattu_pride]

"When was the last time you gave me a footrub?" Nevermind that he's not pregnant, that's not the point.

[fighting_mad]

"I'm not touching your feet," she says frankly. "They smell."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial drops her foot like a hot tuber and looks wounded.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr's foot goes thunk against his knee, and she winces.

"Oh, stop it," she says. "You know they do."

[eiattu_pride]

"They smell," he says, "of roses and violets and other things like that. Unlike yours, which bring to mind garbage heaps."

So there.

[fighting_mad]

"Keep going," she says. "I like it when you keep the couch warm for me."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial doesn't even dignify that with a response.

Well. A verbal one, given that he sticks his tongue out at her and turns away.

[fighting_mad]

She rolls her eyes (tolerantly) and prods his knee insistently with her toes.

[eiattu_pride]

"I spoil you," he says sadly, but begins to rub her foot again.

Sigh.