fighting_mad | [OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

It's been an insane couple of weeks.

No, make that it's been an insane Couple of Weeks.

Things tend to take on extra capital letters, Plourr and Rial have discovered, when there is a newborn baby involved.

There were celebrations (public) and meetings (private; only Rial's parents and the pair's few close, trusted friends on-planet were invited to see the new baby princess), and a whole lot of sleeping (on both mother and daughter's parts).

Sleeping has definitely become less easy, in the last two weeks. These are two monarchs--two monarchs who are leaving the majority of their duties to Count Gror Pernon and the Royal Cabinet for another week at least--with tired faces and dark circles under their eyes. They are doing this themselves, despite the grand royal tradition of nannies and maids, and it is beginning to show.

Baby Princess Ianna Estillo-Pernon, cute and pudgy as she may be with a head of red-orange hair growing in, has revealed herself to be something of a screamer, even by the ordinary high standards of newborns.

Bleary-eyed and half-dressed, Plourr sighs, carefully shouldering the nursery door open, mindful of the crying bundle in her arms. "You never give it a rest, do you, you monster?" she asks, her voice low and rough with sleep. The room is well-lit by the twin full moons, visible through the open window, and Plourr briefly glances out at the way that the light glitters on the ocean's dark waves before she settles in to the comfortable armchair, and the more pressing matters at hand.

Meanwhile, Ianna appears to be trying to breastfeed and cry simultaneously.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They've gotten good at taking shifts, so when Plourr gets up this time Rial grins vaguely into the pillow and falls straight back asleep.

When, some time later, he wakes up to snuffling cries and Plourr's voice, hoarse and tired, he contemplates getting up to check if he can do anything. The contemplation takes a while, and when, at the end of that she still hasn't shushed, he slowly begins the process of prying himself out of bed.

Meanwhile, Ianna hiccups, considers quieting, and then turns up the volume again, waving tiny fists.

The warm weight in Plourr's arms has never stopped feeling strange. She wonders if it ever will. She carries Ianna correctly, holds her by the book -- and she holds her as if she could break at any moment. She's at a pretty good size (especially for a kid who's only 17 days old), which Plourr can personally attest to, but she still looks tiny in Plourr's big arms.

It's pretty spaced.

At the same time, though, some of it's pretty okay, Plourr thinks. Watching Rial with her, ignoring the twinges of jealousy at how naturally good he is with her. Laughing at the terrible, indignant faces that she makes when she cries. Holding her close when she's just drifting off to sleep, making a soft noise or two, her little fists slowly coming to a rest against her captive audience's arm or shoulder. Those precious few moments every day where she isn't screaming, crying, sleeping, spitting up, or shitting, when she stares up at you with those big, wide eyes.

All of that makes nights like tonight worth it. Hopefully.

By this point, the tiny-looking princess in question has been fed, burped, and has had her diaper changed, and is resolutely resisting all efforts to be put down to sleep.

With no one to bear witness, Plourr presses a light, lingering-but-frustrated kiss to the green hat. "Shhh," she murmurs, walking with Ianna tucked against her shoulder and with a bounce in her step, "shhhh. I would really like to get two hours sleep on the night, here, so if you could just--" She turns at the window and starts pacing, prowling, back across the room again. "Oh Jesus Christ, don't you ever sleep?"

Ianna does not listen to reason.

She exhales sharply, barely resisting the urge to stop rubbing Ianna's back so that she can dig the heel of her hand into her own eyes and scream.

"Hey." Rial's finally pulled himself out of bed, and is leaning against the doorframe, watching the two. A lot of nights seem to end up like this, one or the other or both of them pacing and trying to calm Ianna down long enough for her to drift off to sleep. Unfortunately, she seems to have been born without that particular need, and it's way harder then it sounds.

"You want me to try?"

"No," Plourr snaps over her shoulder.

As she turns back toward Rial and the door in the darkened nursery, she repeats, "No" less sharply, in an unspoken acknowledgment that she spoke too harshly.

"I have to be able to do this," she says, moving constantly on silent bare feet as the thin wails continue from her shoulder. "You can't always bail me out."

Rial holds up his hands in an unspoken gesture of surrender. "Okay, Plourr. Just trying to help and get us both a little sleep."

There's a chair in the corner of the room. He flops into it and watches his wife silently, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How long has she been up?"

"An hour and a half," she says shortly, her face pinched.

She realizes a second too late that she spoke too loudly; she lowers her voice as she murmurs, "Alright, alright, you're alright, princess."

"Doesn't need to be changed, does she?"

He's got his eyes closed, tired but not planning on sleeping until she quiets down again.

Plourr forces herself to take a deep breath in and release it before she answers him. "First thing I checked," she says, "and I just changed her ten minutes ago."

It was an awful lot of shavit for such a small thing, she'd say if she were in the mood, but she's not in the mood tonight; she's in a mood. A mood that involves the need for sleep warring with her stubbornness and the aching need to be able to do this; the fear that she won't be able to always pulsing just out of her reach behind her eyes.

"I've been walking with her," she says, "I took her out on the balcony and showed her the stars, I tried the bouncing thing, I fed her, changed her, burped her, set the mobile going, wrapped her up in blankets -- hell, I even sang to her, and you know I can't hold a tune." And, more importantly, that she hates even trying.

Plourr's lips are compressed, her face already starting to take back some of the characteristic sharpness that was lost due to weight gain, and she says over the noise of the crying, "I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, except say, 'Stop crying already, goddamnit' and do a Jedi thing."

Pacing, she looks down. "Stop crying already. You're supposed to have a connection with me. Stop crying."

"Maybe it's your singing that's doing it," he says, but the edge of humor that's supposed to be there really isn't. It's been a long night. It's been a long week, hell, everything since she's been born has been long. And it's not that it's not rewarding, seeing her when she's asleep and snuggled up to something, or when she's just quiet and peering at things in that vaguely unfocused way she has, it's just tiring. And hard.

"Listen," he says finally, and he thinks he might get beaten down for this but they both need sleep and this isn't helping at all. "Just let me try really quickly, Plourr, this isn't going anywhere. It's okay."

A part of Plourr delights in seeing Ianna scream and carry on; she's alive, she's loud and proud and in the land of the living, and won't let anyone forget that.

Besides, she's kinda cute with her face all screwed up and red like that.

But the rest of her hates to hear the kid unhappy; hates that something is wrong and she doesn't seem to be able to figure out what it is or fix it.

"It's not okay," she says, but it's more distressed than angry. There's persistent, and then there's pointless, and Plourr Estillo has always prided herself on the ability to distinguish between the two. She takes the couple of steps necessary over to Rial in the armchair and she carefully passes Ianna into his arms, her mouth set in a miserable line.

Rial decides that he's not even going to try and respond to that, attention focused on the tiny bundle in his arms. Ianna whines and hiccups, crying toning itself down slightly as she adjusts to the feeling of new arms around her, and then climbing back up into the earsplitting scale.

Rial just holds her though, for a moment, letting her scream all she wants. He remembers being ten, almost eleven, and holding Plourr in his arms - she'd been fussing, thinking about crying, and her mother had passed her off to him for a moment while she went to find a bottle. He'd held her carefully like she might break, and she'd thought about it for a moment before opening her mouth and yelling angrily up at him.

It's really not that different now, and he suspects she's crying just for the sake of crying. Holding her a little closer, letting her thrash against his chest, he leans down to look at her face.

"You can stop any time," he says mildly, then settles back to wait.

Plourr sits on the arm of the chair, pulling her feet up in a balancing act that she makes look easy--and a hell of a lot easier now, without a baby under her belt--and resting her forearms on her knees.

She watches father and daughter quietly and, after a moment, she reaches down and gently brushes a rough-skinned thumb across Ianna's cheek. "You're perfectly fine, girl."

Gradually, the wailing diminishes into fussing, then quieter fussing. Ianna would still be crying, it seems like she indignantly would like her parents to know, but it is Very Tiring.

Rial breathes a not-so-quiet sigh of relief as the volume of her crying goes down, smoothing a hand over her head. With luck, she'll sleep now, and not wake them up for a while.

Hopefully.

Whispering, trying not to disturb her, "You want to put her to bed?"

"Give 'er here."

The swap is effected as smoothly as possible, and Plourr holds her breath as Ianna opens her mouth, not sure what the fuck she'll do if Ianna starts to cry again the second that she touches her -- but it's only to give a baby-sized cough and then blink drowsily up at Mama.

Plourr's smile flashes, swift and tiny and painfully genuine, in the dim-lit room, and then she nudges Rial's shoulder with hers and levers herself up. Out the door, through the informal living area, down the hall, and disappearing into their bedroom; her feet could walk this path by themselves by now, and more or less do, in the dark.

Rial gives it a minute or so before getting up as well, wandering after Plourr. He pauses only once to turn the light all the way off before following her path into the bedroom.

He pauses, a moment, just inside the door to watch them together. Sometimes he thinks he's never seen something more beautiful.

Plourr shoots an amused glance over her shoulder, but she says nothing to him, instead turning back to untangling Ianna from the blankets she'd been wrapped up in. Ianna only smacks her lips sleepily, the lack of so much as a sound of protest signifying just how tired she is, and Plourr's mouth quirks again. She lays Ianna on her back in the bassinet, and that lopsided half-smile turns into a snort of a stifled snicker as she pulls off the baby's hat and gets a look at the lovely hairstyle that has formed underneath.

"A real looker, you are," she murmurs, shaking her head and carefully smoothing the red down.

Ianna's eyes, half-shut, stare up at her.

"Sleep." Plourr tweaks her nose gently. "Do it, or I will take your nose as collateral."

Ianna looks like she's considering protest - a tiny fist waves vaguely, and she opens her mouth - but the possible scream becomes a yawn and she squirms slightly before her eyes close all the way.

Rial smiles from where he is, watching them, arms crossed over his chest. Doesn't say anything, almost afraid to break the moment.

Plourr smoothes a hand over Ianna's belly, her face impossibly soft, and then, as she withdraws her hand, she says,

"You planning on staring at my ass all night, Pernon?"

One last glance into the bassinet to be sure that the baby really has closed her eyes, and then Plourr turns around, her eyebrow raised.

"It's the most action I can get these days," Rial says, dry as anything before pushing off the wall and moving towards her.

"I'm not sure if I should be jealous of the baby or not."

"Why, because she's been closer to my ekvolta than you have in the last two months?" Even tired, Plourr uses the correct number of glottal stops in the obscene Huttese word.

She rolls her eyes, setting a hand on her hip and watching him approach. "Trust me, the experience wasn't astral for either of us.

"From what I recall, you're the one who wanted to have a kid, anyway."

She smiles at him, sweetly.

"You reap what you sow, sweetheart."

Rial knows a little more Huttese (mostly thanks to her) then he used to, and so maybe there's a quick flush. He's way less innocent then he used to be, doesn't mean that sometimes seeing her so frank makes him want to sputter.

"I'm learning that now, take my word for it." He settles a hand on her hip and kisses her lightly, sweetly, glancing over her shoulder to where the bassinet is. To where his daughter is.

"And hey, it's not a bad thing to want, in the scheme of things."

She returns the kiss, touching his jaw with strong, cool fingers. Maybe, just maybe, there's warmth in the way that she kisses him, warmth that suggests fondness, yes, but also that she doesn't think so highly of all this forced celibacy, either.

She follows his gaze over her shoulder, not stepping away from him. Ianna is sprawled on her back in her fuzzy green sleeper, her fingers curling and uncurling in her sleep.

"No," Plourr admits, her mouth soft. "It's not."

"You should sleep," he says, soft and curling a hand around her back, warm against her skin. Ianna half-arches her back, mouth opening and closing for a moment before she settles down again. Dreaming, maybe. It still makes Rial smile gently.

And then he tugs at her, lightly. "C'mon."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she grumbles, but there's something of a half-smile hidden by the disheveled red hair hanging in her face. She takes the necessary step or two back to the bed, sinks down among the blankets, and yanks the heavy coverlet over her head.

Plourr has honed her 'falling asleep at the drop of a hat' skills over the past few weeks, and knows exactly how it's done.

The empress-sized lump under the blankets is closer to the middle of the bed than to her own side of it, though.

It is.

It means that when Rial sneaks under the blankets he doesn't stay on a particular side, just snuggles up to the middle as well, taking this opportunity to plant cold feet on her back by twisting artistically. "G'night."

Plourr stifles a shriek by the last-second realization that they have just gotten Ianna to sleep, and by sheer force of will. It comes out choked back and hissed, and also with something of a note of pain; she'd instinctively twisted hard away from the icy cold feet in the small of her back. Her body is still cranky about sudden movements. It isn't so long ago, after all, that the stitches were removed.

Her immediate punch to Rial's shoulder isn't exactly cushioned by the blankets.

His response is simple - a sharp wince, a faint, smug grin, and the feet migrate to another part of the bed, somewhere far away from her.

Perhaps an apology, perhaps not.

"I almost broke your hand once already this month. See if I don't finish the job this time."

As she grumbles, she's resting her head on his shoulder--lifting it once, shaking her hair out of the way, and trying again--and throwing her arm across his chest.

She takes a minute or two to settle herself against him, and she could almost smile at the fact that she can do this again.

"Ass."

Almost.

"You love me anyway," he says, still content and smug and one hand reaching out to find her fingers. It's probably safe, he thinks, she's too tired to actually follow through on the breaking-fingers threat.

Probably.

"I do no such thing."

There is a moment where she considers prodding what remains of the vicious bruising on his hand (and she was right about one thing, at least -- she would have broken the hand of a lesser man, when she was in labor), but it is idle consideration, and an old habit.

She lets him take her hand, resisting the urge to turn to look over into the bassinet again; to keep checking that Ianna is alright. Plourr's lips curl upward against his shoulder.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Of course you do."

Rial runs his fingers over the back of her hand, tracing little nonsense patterns thoughtfully. He loves this, this right here when it's just the two of them in bed curled around each other, but the knowledge that their daughter is sleeping beside them makes that little protective spark inside him into a flame. It always feels so right.

"Utterly gorgeous." He maneuvers the hand around carefully so that he can press a kiss to her knuckles, and smiles into the dark. "Utterly kriffing gorgeous."

"Lies. First part, not th'second. Mmf."

Despite her words--not half-asleep, but maybe one fourth--she touches her thumb lightly to his lips, closing her eyes. She throws a leg over his and yawns against his shoulder.

"Remind me I said that th'next time she starts screamin'."

"You're saying you only keep around for my looks, aren't you." Beat. "That's okay."

He shifts back a little so that her foot (her cold foot) isn't resting on his other calf, and yawns as well. Must be contagious.

Sleepily, "Will do."

"Am not."

She kisses his neck soundly.

"I keep you around because I like your ass. 'S a difference."

"'s a nice ass. Royal ass."

That smile's not quite going away, even if it becomes a rather smug if tired grin.

"Nobody likes a show off."

As if on cue, a lusty wail rises from the bassinet, and shows no sign of abating.

Plourr makes a noise that sounds something very much like "AHAHARG" into Rial's shoulder.

Edited 2007-11-11 18:43 (UTC)

"You do, apparently."

But then, of course, Ianna starts to scream and Plourr mumbles into Rial's shoulder and Rial cracks his eyes open, already moving to get up.

Just another night in the Pernon-Estillo household.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject