[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.

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[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.

[eiattu_pride]

It is, technically, all his fault. He did impregnate her, after all.

So he stands there and he holds her until it passes and she breathes again, stands by her side, supporting her, the way it should be. The way it will always be.

[fighting_mad]

"Ass," she mutters, but it's weak and it's in the 'you're an ass, but you're my (not-literal) ass' sort of tone that ought to be familiar, by now.

[eiattu_pride]

"As always, my princess." He's still holding onto her, maybe, like he's reluctant to let go.

[fighting_mad]

She coaxes her fingers out of their deathgrip on the chairback and returns to walking the length of the little room, from the wall to the door and back again, in a small and restless loop.

"I don't like waiting for things to happen," Plourr says, tightly. "I don't like not being able to do anything, things out of my control." Body out of her control.

[eiattu_pride]

"I know," he says, falling into step with her. "I guess - sometimes you just need to learn to deal with them."

[fighting_mad]

"This is what you might call a crash course," she says, glowering.

[eiattu_pride]

"Point." He hesitates, then smiles quietly. "You're doing great so far. This is one course that you're going to ace."