[OOM] Eiattu - Palace Conference Room

[fighting_mad]

"Thank you, Zema," says the empress. She can be gracious, when she needs to be; when she wants to be. Zema's a sweet kid (kid, she's older than Plourr is), sharp, knows her shavit, gave the facts short and sweet -- just the way Plourr likes it. "We've got a lot to discuss. This is one hell of a lot of money, people; the contract's got to go to the right shipyard. For now, though--"

Plourr leans back in her chair at the informal table.

"Take five."

A ripple of chuckles moves through the assembled advisors and aides, and then the low rumble of conversation lurches to life.

Plourr turns in her chair, arm tossed casually across the back, and props a boot up on Rial's knee. "Kuat's sounding more and more like they're lagging behind in the competition."

Comments

[fighting_mad]

"Rial," she snaps, mimicking his tone and shooting him a flat look.

[eiattu_pride]

Arg.

Rial tosses up his hands in the air and turns away, starting to shift the chair back so that it faces the roomful of people.

[fighting_mad]

"--Okay, you know what?" Plourr's eyes have gone flinty. "That's it."

She raises her voice.

"Everybody out! Lunch break! Let's go!" She puts both hands on the tables and rises swiftly to her full height; she points at the door, her arm one unwavering line, and no one has to be told twice; the aides and counselors move quickly. The empress whistles through her teeth, sharp and mad as hell. "C'mon, people. Off your asses, out the door, right now, thanks so much." (The last is sarcasm.)

She follows the final advisor over to the door as he hobbles along on his cane, and the second he's out in the hall with the rest of them, she slams the door behind him and turns around.

Her arms are crossed over her chest.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial's never seen a roomful of people move out that quickly after a meeting, but hey. He's not complaining.

Instead he shifts the chair back so that it's facing Plourr and sits down, crossing one leg over the other.

"Thank you."

[fighting_mad]

She takes three long strides forward. "You wanted to talk." Her hands hit the table, hard, her fingers curled under the edge, and she leans forward. "So talk."

[eiattu_pride]

His gaze is completely calm. In fact, too calm - Plourr knows his expressions by now, she should recognize his 'talking-to-enraged-nobles' face by now.

"Ianna needs to be recognized as heir to the throne."

[fighting_mad]

"You tell me you can honestly look her in the face and wish all this shavit on her," Plourr snarls.

This is her protective snap, her metaphorical hackles raised. It's not something that Rial regularly has directed at him. Or, well, ever has directed at him.

"If she goes through life and she gets educated and she chooses it, fine; it's her life. But I'm not going to sit here and tell her she was born for only one thing and it's her goddamn birthright and she's got to do it."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial doesn't really do the angry, snarling, shouting kind of anger that a lot of people do (Plourr included). That said, there's definitely a look in his eyes and when he leans back to fold his arms over his chest, he's tense as anything.

"Did you hear me say, at any point, that it was the only reason she was born? I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is that we need to be responsible about this. If something happens to us, there's no direct heir. We need the stability. Eiattu needs the stability. This isn't about what you experienced or what's best for you, this is about what's best for our world."

[fighting_mad]

"--I never said this was about me." Her knuckles are white in her grip on the table. "This isn't about me. It's about Ianna; it's about giving her the chance for any kind of life she wants. I know that we need some sort of a system set up to succeed us; I know, okay? I wasn't kriffing born yesterday!"

She's leaning over the table that's separating them, her hair starting to loose from its braid. Her mouth has settled into a thin line. "We can come up with some kind of contingency. We can think of something, some system to take power if she doesn't want it."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial shoves his chair away, getting up and turning his back on Plourr. It's easy to see, when he's angry, what a kriffing big guy he is.

Turning back, after a moment, still a good few feet away, he crosses his arms again. "And that's only worth so much. We rule the planet, Isplourrdacartha, if something happens-" he waves a hand in a tight, irritated motion, "-and she doesn't want to then we change it. I'm not saying that she has to do this, but we cannot take chances."

His eyes are flashing, now, and he gestures with his words, voice almost getting quieter as he speaks. This is Rial's way of being pissed off, and Plourr should know it. "And I doubt you can tell me honestly that most of this is not coming from what happened to you as a child."

[fighting_mad]

She doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. Her shoulders tighten, noticeably; her arms are corded muscle. "No, Your Majesty, you're right; I can't tell you that my opinion on this isn't shaped by, as you so quaintly put it, what 'happened to me' when I was a kid. I listened to some power-hungry sons of bitches violate and murder my sisters and torture and kill my father; I saw my mother die and I ended my brother's life myself, and it was all because of my family's title, so yes, you might call it something of a formative experience."

Her jaw is as tight as it gets. She hates this; she hates talking about this, she hates bringing it into an argument. She hates him for going low enough to drag it up.

"But that's not what this is fucking about! This is about how fucking overwhelming it is to have an entire planet depend on you, knowing as a child that that responsibility is going to be yours and that's what you're expected to do with your life." She snaps upright; folds her arms, and they're almost mirror images of each other, two tall, powerful people with crossed arms and furious eyes, glaring at each other over a table.

"There's a difference the size of a Star Destroyer between 'the throne is yours if you want it' and 'you're the heir to the throne, Princess.' "

[eiattu_pride]

Rial's hands clench into fists for one brief but noticeable second. His jaw is clenched, it takes a few moments for him to speak again and he's angry, clearly angry.

"And how is that any kriffing different then what people told you, told me after the coup? Your body was never found, we as good as knew you were still out there. And since you had the claim to the throne and I was still betrothed to you, they put the weight on me to learn how to be a decent ruler so that I could cover for your ass when and if you came back. And I dealt with it."

Rial gets quiet the more his temper flares, and that last sentence is practically hissed. "I think I came out decently, in the end. She'll manage as well. She's not a kriffing doll."

He strides forward. He's close, in her space, angry and determined. Every inch of his body is screaming intimidation.

"And I won't see this planet in the hands of those who would do her wrong just because someone was too cowardly to make a decision for the good of someone other then her own."

[fighting_mad]

You were 21 years old, not a child; that's the difference

Now who's making this all about himself?

She's not a doll; she's a little girl and it's our damn duty to decide what's best for her til she's old enough to do it herself

And I'm going to put the planet in the hands of the bad guys?!

There are plenty of words to say, but they start to fade when Rial gets in her face, and they shrivel and die the second that Plourr hears the word cowardly.

Rial has never seen her face when she's in the cockpit of a snubfighter; he hasn't witnessed her tear men down or rip apart a bar full of swoopies. He didn't see her when she thought that he had been killed.

Plourr's expression, in the half-second before she throws the punch, is deadlier than Rial has ever seen.

Then her left hook is a piledriver to the jaw, slamming into the mouth with no regard for fingers or knuckles.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial wasn't expecting that.

That said, he's big, and strong, and though it snaps his head back and makes him stagger he stays standing, shaking his head briefly, moving a step or two out of Plourr's space.

His expression, when he looks at her, is unreadable. One thing's for sure, the fight's gone out of him completely, and he looks almost smaller.

There's copper-blood in his mouth, bittersweet and grounding him easily. There's pain flaring at the side of his jaw, and where his teeth have cut into the side of his cheek. There's the familiar, light-headed feeling of adrenaline racing through him.

She didn't pull this punch.

He breaks eye contact to turn and spit blood onto the ground by his feet. Then he raises his head, meeting her eyes, and offers one tiny, reserved bow.

"Empress."

Then he's walking back towards the door, back towards her stiff and right with emotions, with anger and betrayal and gnawing, painful guilt.

And then he's gone.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr watches his struggle for balance (he nearly falls; she notes with a certain vindictive swell that she hasn't lost her touch) and heavy stagger with that wild look still in her eyes, her jaw jutting furiously.

Rial's expression is impossible to read. Plourr is absolutely transparent.

Her eyes are snapping when they meet his; she doesn't react to the use of her title, to the bow, besides a curl of her lip. She debates telling him to go on and run, run like he always does, to go to hell, but in the end -- she watches him go without comment. Her fist spoke for her.

When the door closes, she shakes her hand out (two of her fingers hurt like a bitch) with a loose wrist.

She gives it fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds for him to get down the hall; fifteen seconds for her to slam across the room and will herself out of fight mode.

She hasn't quite managed it by the time she flings the door open. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd get your asses back in here, it'd be appreciated.

"Today would be nice."