Plourr Estillo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting_mad) wrote2007-10-28 07:58 pm
fighting_mad) wrote2007-10-28 07:58 pm
[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.
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.
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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."
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Her immediate punch to Rial's shoulder isn't exactly cushioned by the blankets.
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Perhaps an apology, perhaps not.
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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.
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Probably.
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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?"
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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."
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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'."
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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."
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She kisses his neck soundly.
"I keep you around because I like your ass. 'S a difference."
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That smile's not quite going away, even if it becomes a rather smug if tired grin.
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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.
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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.