[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Palace

[fighting_mad]

Dinner over with, the sky outside dark and filled with stars, Plourr is sprawled across the sofa, her feet in Rial's lap. "I don't know how the idiot ever thought it was a good idea."

She shakes her head, but here's a rare thing, amid all this misery and restlessness and rampant boredom and discomfort and fucking helpless waiting: there's a thoroughly obnoxious grin threatening.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

She shakes her head, holding her cards at an angle so that he can't look over her shoulder and see her hand, and says, "No betting, I'm not folding--" A pause. "Do you have a shifter?"

[eiattu_pride]

"...Whoops," says Rial, and attempts to look innocent.

[fighting_mad]

"Dumbass. You're dead anyway." She lays down her cards on his thigh. "Idiot's Array. Read it and weep."

[eiattu_pride]

"You don't even want to know what I have," Rial moans, eying his cards with loathing. "Why's it always me?"

[fighting_mad]

"Because you didn't grow up in cantinas playing sabacc," she says matter-of-factly, plucking his cards out of his hand and picking up the deck. She mixes both of their hands in, then starts shuffling the deck, riffling through the cards with a precision born of long practice. Her hands move constantly, restlessly.

[eiattu_pride]

"That's true. Hey, maybe we could supplement the royal treasury by sending you to Coruscant to gamble." He stares off into hyperspace, grinning. "Plourr Ilo, Empress and girl card-sharp."

[fighting_mad]

"Woman," she corrects, with an arch look. "Woman card-sharp--" Her voice rises unnaturally at the end, and the deck of cards makes ominous crinkling noises as her white-knuckled fist closes around it.

[eiattu_pride]

There's the by now almost instinctive motion of his hand coming to rest over her own, squeezing lightly. "Woman, of course. You can make loads of credits and then we'll run away somewhere for the rest of our lives, how does that sound?"

[fighting_mad]

"Peachy," she says through gritted teeth.

[eiattu_pride]

"We can buy an expensive ship and leave Eiattu to your thak, okay?" His other hand is on her shoulder, rubbing lightly in circles.

[fighting_mad]

"Kriff," she says, after a moment. "Let's do it now. Right now." It's a joke, for the most part, though there's honest sentiment to be found, too -- Plourr doesn't retreat often, but she would love to turn tail and outrun this right about now.

[eiattu_pride]

"Sorry, I have to wash my hair."

:D?

[fighting_mad]

She smacks his chest, and not gently, either.

[eiattu_pride]

"Ow," he says, looking woeful. "That hurt."

[fighting_mad]

"No," she says, and there is a look headed his way, "it didn't."

[eiattu_pride]

"Right," he agrees instantly, "it didn't. Not at all. Not one bit. No sir."

A pause, and "Although I think my mother would kill me if we left the planet to a thak."

[fighting_mad]

"I th--

"Son of a bitch--" she says, into his shoulder.

[eiattu_pride]

"Make all the noise you want," he says, holding her just a little more tightly, one hand at the base of her neck. "I don't mind, my princess. It's okay."

[fighting_mad]

The next forty seconds pass in relative quiet, besides another murmur or two from Rial and some sharp breathing (and one low, filthy Rodian curse) from Plourr. Eventually, she says, "Alright. Kriffing tired of this now," without lifting her forehead from his shoulder.

[eiattu_pride]

"Well," says Rial, possibly grinning just a bit. "I've heard about this revolutionary new thing - transfers the pain of labor to the father. A couple down in Lassye decided to try it, got all hooked up, and the EmDee flipped a little switch. They were told that this was about ten percent of the pain. Surprised, the husband said that he felt nothing. The EmDee turned it up to twenty percent - still nothing. It went on like that until all of the pain was being transferred, at levels that would kill a man, yet the husband felt nothing. The wife gave birth without pain, the husband promised to come back for tests later, and they returned home with the baby...only to discover the news deliverer lying dead on the front step."

[fighting_mad]

Plourr says nothing for a moment or two, staring at him, a few strands of hair stuck to her face.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" she says, flatly, as she shifts herself off his shoulder, to the edge of the bed, and up on her feet. The last step takes a little longer than the first two, her hand held flat against the small of her back. "Because it's not."

Once on her feet, she starts walking back and forth again, with heavy, restless steps. "Set it to a hundred percent on you." The gesture that she makes in his general direction suggests that he'd probably be falling victim to a thumping right about now, if it weren't for the distance separating them.

[eiattu_pride]

"Yes," he says gravely, "it was supposed to be funny. I found it amusing." Getting up to match her pace with his own, one hand held out discreetly should she need something to hold onto.

[fighting_mad]

She shoves him (admittedly, not trying very hard) and ignores both him and his hand, in favor of pacing, pacing, pacing. And when another contraction stabs through her, she makes a stubborn point of grabbing the chair instead of him, her hands white-knuckled on the back of it, causing the expensive wood to creak under the strain.

[eiattu_pride]

Rejection's a bitch. Maybe that's why Rial moves to cover her hand with his own, other arm trying to snake around her back. "Sorry."

[fighting_mad]

Or maybe it's because she's in severe pain and it is all his fault (somehow). Plourr would be articulating this, if she were capable of speech. But a low gasp is the only answer he gets right now; a low gasp and the fact that she doesn't pull away from him, her chin lowered mulishly.