[OOM] Eiattu - Palace Roof

[fighting_mad]

Plourr likes this small section of the palace roof. It's quiet, for one thing, and it's flat which means that walking on it isn't too dangerous, but most importantly, she's never seen another soul up here. Solitude's getting hard to come by.

She slips off her shoes and makes her way past the glass of one of the Grand Hall's skylights, bare feet contrasting sharply with the formality of her clothes. She sets the shoes down and sits at the edge of the roof, letting her feet swing out into space. The courtyard is far, far below, but Plourr is a pilot; heights have never bothered her. She watches the capital city spread out before her. Her city. It's looking better; after nearly a month of work, it's becoming difficult to see signs of the fighting that had taken place. Most buildings have been rebuilt, the streets cleaned up, debris removed.

Still, Eiattu is not entirely healed. Plourr knows that.

She sits quietly, leaning back on her hands, and watches the sun set over the city and the jungle beyond.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

"I don't know if I want to, now," she grumbles, but she drops her arms, shoes dangling from one hand. She heads for the door to the rooftop, beyond which will be a rarely-used spiral staircase, but she leaves room at her side.

[eiattu_pride]

He falls into step next to her.

"You cut me deeply."

[fighting_mad]

"You," she says dryly, looking up at the sky a moment and feeling off to once again see no stars, "cut me deeply first. I'm entitled."

[eiattu_pride]

"Revenge?"

Well, he wouldn't put it past her.

"What do you like, Plourr?"

[fighting_mad]

She pauses with her hand on the old-fashioned doorknob, looking back at him quizzically. "What?"

[eiattu_pride]

"What do you like? I feel like I don't know much about you."

Shrugs.

"Hobbies, favourite foods, holos..."

[fighting_mad]

Every time she thinks she's got him figured out, he throws her for a loop. She smiles and opens the door, slipping through and holding it behind herself for him. "I'm partial to Corellian food; it's what comes of having lived or flown with a few of them. Holos," she makes a face, "I don't have much use for. And hobbies? Flying, mostly." Her grin turns over-large. "Bar fights. Breaking people's arms."

Eiattu really does have a ... unique princess on its hands.

[eiattu_pride]

He smiles, nods his thanks, and enters. Suppresses a brief annoyance at being inside and therefore fair game for any random political.

"I see. Interesting."

[fighting_mad]

They're probably safe from political intrigue at least as long as they're on these steps; no one, to the best of Plourr's knowledge, ever comes up here. It's an old staircase, creaky and actually wooden, a rarity even in the opulence of the palace. It's dusty as all hell, too.

She sneezes, descending with her hand on the railing. "What about you?" she calls back over her shoulder.

[eiattu_pride]

He brushes at dust that's getting caught in his moustache.

"I've a weakness for sweets, actually. And fresh fruit, but I'm not one for anything really rich. Holos, can't really think of any, and hobbies? Flying, I suppose. I'm somewhat fond of hunting. And I like to paint."

[fighting_mad]

"You paint?" she asks in surprise, nearing the dark bottom of the staircase and slowing up to feel her way down. "What do you paint?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Just whatever."

He's blushing again.

"Watercolor."

[fighting_mad]

"You'll have to show me sometime," she says, and then-- Ow.

So maybe going barefoot in the palace wasn't the best idea she's ever had.

She forgets herself. "Fuck!"

[eiattu_pride]

He blinks. Fuck?

"Princess? Are you alright?"

[fighting_mad]

"Kriffing son of a bi--" She cuts herself off and gropes along the wall for the switch that will turn on the staircase's one measly little glowpanel. There it is; she slaps it and the solitary light buzzes to life. "Yeah, I'm fine," she says disgustedly, sitting down on a step and lifting her foot to her knee. "I stepped on something."

[eiattu_pride]

"Let me see."

Kneels awkwardly on the stairs, hands gentle on her foot.

[fighting_mad]

It is a splinter, and an impressively large one at that, mostly-buried in the arch of her foot.

This is one of those times Plourr isn't glad that she steps heavily.

She sets her shoes down on the step, watching him quietly. "That'll teach me to take off my shoes," she says.

[eiattu_pride]

"Mm, so it will."

Examines the splinter.

"This is going to hurt."

[fighting_mad]

She shrugs. "I've had worse than a splinter." And she has the scars to prove it.

[eiattu_pride]

"Right."

Pulls it out, then lightly presses his thumb over where it was.

[fighting_mad]

Despite the bravado, she hisses. Plourr is a terrible patient.

[eiattu_pride]

He smiles a bit.

"I'd kiss it better, but - not, I think, when it's on your foot."

[fighting_mad]

Cue skeptical look.



Followed by laughter. "I appreciate the thought, Rial," she says, still laughing.

[eiattu_pride]

"My pleasure."

Stands carefully.

"Can you make it, or shall I scoop you off your feet and carry you into the waiting arms of your bed?"

[fighting_mad]

She snorts. "I hate you." She takes hold of the railing and hauls herself to her feet in one quick move, picking up her shoes again and brushing past him down the last few steps. "And no, I don't need to be swept off my feet." She walks carefully, trying to keep the formerly-splintered (stupid) part of her foot off the dusty ground.