[OOM] Eiattu - Palace

[fighting_mad]

Princess Isplourrdacartha Estillo is in a Mood.

She has been pressed into wearing a dress. This is bad enough in and of itself, but the green gown has a train that she keeps nearly tripping on, and also involved are: makeup, earrings, high-heeled shoes, and some sort of weird styling substance in her short hair. She looks beautiful; she feels a fool.

Train gathered up in one hand, she stalks through the palace, two members of her Guard following at a safe distance. She hardly notices the startled palace staff and assorted courtiers that she passes as she makes her way down several levels, toward the Great Hall. She was already annoyed enough to have to take time out of a very busy schedule for a formal supper with assorted nobles and high muckety-mucks, and this evening seems to be intent on raising her blood pressure by the second.

She veers from her path; throws open a set of old-fashioned wooden doors and steps out onto the small balcony, into the heavy Eiattu night air. She whirls back and barks, "Come out here and I'll vape you!" at her bodyguards.

She doesn't have a blaster--can't fit even a holdout anywhere under this kriffing clingy thing-- but they don't know that. The man and woman glance at each other, then hurriedly close the balcony doors to wait in the corridor inside.

Plourr leans on the railing, looking at the bright lights of Eiattu's bustling capital city through the low-hanging leaves of a courant tree, and she grits her teeth.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

"Do you?" she asks serenely, walking down the corridor with him, seemingly oblivious to the bewildered looks that they are (or, more accurately, Rial is) getting from passersby. "You shouldn't have, but if it's even half as bright as your face, I think I'll be pleased."

[eiattu_pride]

He laughs, nodding to a court lady who seems to have dropped her fan into a dish of salad.

"Bright is relative, I think. But it will suit you."

[fighting_mad]

"Oh?" she asks. "I'm intrigued. Do I find out what it is before or after dinner?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Your choice."

A grin.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr laughs. She had begun speaking so formally as a response to the absurd informality of curtseying to a man with a green, blue, and red-splattered mustache, but now she hardly even notices her speech. Similarly, she does much better at moving gracefully in the dress now that she isn't paying any attention to walking. "Oh, come now, Count Pernon; that is no choice."

[eiattu_pride]

"Perhaps I shall give you a hint."

Turns and bows low to a vaguely appalled-looking lord, then looks back.

"You'll feel safer with it."

[fighting_mad]

Her brow furrows; the corridors become emptier as they near the Great Hall entrance, and more elegant, too. The stonework is smooth, the floors reflect their images back up at them. Anyone whom they see now, they will likely be sitting at dinner with.

"Safer?" She shakes her head slowly and glances over at him (finding that she is very nearly his height in heels). "I have no idea."

[eiattu_pride]

"Mmm."

Glances around, pulls her into a more shadowed corner, and digs in a pocket. Produces a small packet wrapped in flimsi.

"Go on, open it."

[fighting_mad]

She takes the small packet and looks to him-- and promptly smirks again at the mustache. "What's the occasion for this?" she asks, carefully tearing away the flimsi. And, blunt as always, she adds, "I didn't get you anything."

[eiattu_pride]

He laughs.

"No occasion. I snuck out for an hour yesterday and found them."

It's a small leather band that would fasten easily around leg or arm. On first glance it appears decorative, a dark leather band and a shimmering bluestone, but the stone hides a small sheath and dagger, gleaming silver.

[fighting_mad]

Jewelry? It's pretty, but Plourr doesn't wear much jewelry besides ceremonial pieces.

"It's--" she starts to say diplomatically, and then her thumb runs over the bluestone, and she pulls out the little sheath. She smiles. "A knife."

She tests the hidden mechanism again, drawing the dagger and pressing its point against her thumb (perfectly sharp and cunning) before slipping the entire thing back together. "Oh, I've been needing one this size; brilliant, Rial." She looks up. "Thank you."

[eiattu_pride]

He smiles quietly.

"I know. I've been watching you. You look better with a weapon, and this one is easily disguised."

[fighting_mad]

That smile unsettles her some, as does how well he already seems to-- to know her? To understand her? Either way, he's well on the road; she's holding proof of that in callused hands.

She smiles again, a little quicker this time. "I don't suppose you could hold it for me? It's very small, but I don't think it's small enough to pass unnoticed under this vaping thing."

And even Plourr knows better than to wear dark-colored accessories with a pale green dress.

[eiattu_pride]

"Of course."

He pockets it, still smiling.

"Shall we go in?"

[fighting_mad]

She takes his arm again and walks toward the soaring arch of the entrance rather than responding verbally. "You had better give that back at the end of the night, Rial Pernon," she threatens. "I watch out for my weapons."

And really, she has almost forgotten about the mustache; it takes her a moment to remember why they're getting odd looks.

Well, it's probably the combination of the mustache and suddenly stepping out of the shadows.

She smiles in what she hopes is a princess-y manner at a man she knows she's supposed to recognize, and he bows deeply to her.

[eiattu_pride]

He laughs, and nods to the man.

"I will, no worries."

A lady gives a sort of strangled gasp and hurries up to them.

"Count Pernon!"

[fighting_mad]

Plourr is highly amused, though you wouldn't immediately know it to look at her; her smile is easy and directed at staring nobles and courtiers. She raises her eyebrows at the approaching woman (what is she, chopped liver?) but says nothing.

[eiattu_pride]

The lady pauses for breath, directs a hasty curtsey at Plourr, and then does her best to whisper and shout at the same time.

"Count Pernon! Your father..."

[sw-npc.livejournal.com]

The click of boot heels on polished marble. "Is not amused."

Standing in the corridor as people bustle around them (staring), Grand Duke Gror Pernon nods dismissively to the woman. "Lady Tandy." She takes the hint and gets the hell out of dodge.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial coughs discreetly.

"Your Grace."

[fighting_mad]

Plourr inclines her head calmly to her great-uncle. "Your Grace."

[sw-npc.livejournal.com]

A distracted nod in return to Plourr, but his attention is on Rial. "What, might I ask, is the meaning of this?"

[eiattu_pride]

There's a calm smile.

"I am escorting the Princess to dinner."

[sw-npc.livejournal.com]

"You know perfectly well that that is not what I mean."

[fighting_mad]

"Then maybe, Grand Duke Pernon, you had best specify what you do mean," Plourr says evenly, face telegraphing curiosity as to what ever he could be talking about.