fighting_mad | [OOM] Eiattu

Entry tags:

[OOM] Eiattu - Palace Roof

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His mustache is scratchy. That's her first thought. Her second is that, he's not a bad kisser, but-- it's like she thought. She just. Feels. Nothing.

She slowly pulls away and leans back into her own space. Her eyes are firmly on him. "You're a good man, Rial Pernon. I will marry you.

"But you need to know." She has never been one to hold back the truth. "I don't love you." She falters the tiniest bit, looks away. "I am very fond of you, Rial, and I've been trying since we started rebuilding the city, but-- but I guess it's not something you can force." Brown eyes slowly flick back to him, and it's easy to remember in this moment that she's young. "Will you still have me?"

Well, that hurts just a bit. He's pretty sure he loves her, and to have his (fears) doubts confirmed is just a little bit painful.

But he smiles, and nods, because maybe you can't force it. Maybe she'll never love him.

Maybe she will.

"I will have you. But you must tell me what is appropriate."

An eyebrow rises. "Appropriate?"

How exactly does one ask?

"They will expect us to sleep together."

Plourr chokes back a surprised laugh, turns it into a sort of cough, but she sobers quickly.

"You're the one here with the feelings, Rial." And now it's her turn to be a little awkward, which is weird because it is ordinarily very difficult to make her feel any sort of shame. The hand that isn't under his is squeezing her knee to death. "I've slept with plenty of people who I'm not in love with, so." She's glad of the darkness to hide the color rising to her face; color that annoys the living hell out of her.

"It's up to you."

"I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable," and this is quick, hasty, because he's an honorable man.

"We will share living quarters, not beds."

"Rial." And her expression is soft, if wry. "I'm very hard to make uncomfortable. But okay."

"I don't want to - make advances."

And he's blushing and praying that the darkness hides it.

"I have honor."

Plourr, in turn, is again very thankful for the dark, too. Mostly because it hides the fact that she is struggling mightily to hold back laughter at the absurdity of it all.

She gives herself a moment, to be sure that her voice won't shake. "I know you do, my count," she finally says, and she turns her hand under his and squeezes his hand.

There is genuine affection there. She'd spoken the truth: Rial is a good man. He's been a rock; she needs his help, and so does Eiattu. She could marry far worse a man. Even if she has never really wanted to get married.

Well, that's comforting.

But this is all still rather awkward, so after a second he extracts himself and stands up.

"I should go."

She ducks her head and finally lets herself silently laugh a little, now that he can't see her.

"Okay," she says. "See you in the morning, bright and early. There's that meeting with-- someone." Plourr is terrible at keeping track of her own schedule.

It's a sign of just how distracted and embarressed he is that he doesn't remember either.

"Of course. Good dreams, princess."

Turns and starts to leave.

"Rial." She surprises even herself when she says his name. "Wait." She gets up, brushing herself off and picking up her shoes. "I should probably head down, too."

She takes a few silent steps forward, and this is new ground, really; she doesn't ordinarily seek out his company. He finds her. But this is a day for changes, and, well. They really are betrothed now. It's slightly scary, but-- not a terrible thought.

And so her question is a little quiet. "Would you mind the company?"

He stops, and turns back. Watches her.

"I suppose not, no."

And he's almost surprised to find that he's telling the truth.

She folds her arms, shoes and all. "You suppose not?"

"It depends," and he's almost smiling again, "on who the company is."

She involuntarily starts to smile a little and she picks her way across the roof to him. She looks up at him (and, okay, future-husband or not and good man or not, she still is annoyed that he's taller than her), and says, "I was thinking ... me."

"Ohhhh. Then I'll have to think on that. Can I get back to you?"

He's grinning down at her.

:O!

"Rial Pernon, you--" She scowls darkly at him, arms crossed indignantly over her chest again. "You are a royal pain in the ass."

But she is a little amused.

"It's a fault, I know."

Shrugs, makes a show of looking around.

"Well, I don't think anyone else is likely to need my time. Walk with me?"

"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.

He falls into step next to her.

"You cut me deeply."

"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."

"Revenge?"

Well, he wouldn't put it past her.

"What do you like, Plourr?"

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

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