[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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[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."

[fighting_mad]

"I'm not doing anything," she says, throwing her hands up in frustration. "What the hell am I doing?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Not hitting me." Reflecting thoughtfully, "Remembering to breathe, walking, that sort of thing."

[fighting_mad]

"I'm not hitting you, because you keep being too far away when I want to. I'm remembering to breathe because you won't kriffing leave me alone about it. I haven't done anything." Yet.

Plourr exhales, rounding the corner of her oval of pacing and heading back toward the bed. "I just want to be able to d--" The wave of pain that hits is worse than any that have preceded it; worse than anything she's ever felt, she might think -- worse than the time she accidentally stuck her hand in a live power coupling, worse than the crash landing she'd made on Tatooine -- if she had the time to coolly consider it. It cuts her legs right out from under her.

[eiattu_pride]

They're near enough to the bed that when Plourr's knees buckle Rial is there, holding her, and all she has to do is lean backwards just a bit (and she does, hand groping blindly for the bed) and she'll be sitting (and she is).

He's holding her hand, murmuring softly into her ear, one hand rubbing her back.

[fighting_mad]

When she opens her eyes again, she has one hand on Rial's arm tight enough to bruise, and the other fisted in the bedcovers. Her face is white. "I think," she says, hoarsely, "I complained about nothing to do too vaping soon."

[eiattu_pride]

The hand gripping his arm hurts just a bit, but Rial's not going to complain. "Yeah, no kidding. You okay?"

[fighting_mad]

Plourr is going to kill him. She is going to kill him and that (admittedly, anxious) smile of his, fuck her marriage vows to the Force and beyond--

[fighting_mad]

Dr. Wilen chooses that opportune moment to breeze in. "And how are we doing -- here." She finishes after a brief pause in which she took in both Isplourrdacartha's expression and her ferocious grip on her husband's arm. "Steady on, Princess," she says. "Let's have a look at how things are progressing, shall we?"