[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Chambers

[fighting_mad]

It's the middle of summer on Eiattu, but it has been one of the rainiest months in the planet's history. The cavernous royal chambers are damp and drafty, and there is a decidedly grumpy princess sitting at a desk in the inner living area (the smaller, less formal one). She is surrounded by beautiful things; rich tapestries, a few paintings, sleek furniture with smooth lines, everything in warm shades of gold and cream and yellow. The glowlamps are turned down low, besides the one burning brightly on the desk, and she is adrift in a studious sea of datapads and flimsi scraps, bare feet planted firmly on the floor.

Of course, it would be a much more elegant scene if the aforementioned princess wasn't wrapped up in a huge comforter, her head in her hand. And if she weren't sneezing, blowing her nose, swearing, and occasionally flinging styluses in abject misery.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

It's entirely possible that she has forgotten that he's there. "This was never supposed to be me. It was Kassen, and then it was Dullourr. I went thak-riding while they sat with tutors and studied politics, history, precendents, interplanetary law, everything else. If I kriff this up, I take a planet down with me."

Long moment of silence.

"Fuck."

[eiattu_pride]

"It'll be okay."

He carefully inches back until he can lean on the headboard, then tugs her into his lap.

"Everything'll be better in the morning, I promise."

[fighting_mad]

"You're not helping," she mumbles into his shoulder, shifting the little bit necessary so that her ass and feet are on the bed on opposite sides of him. He's not very comfortable to sit on.

That thought (and this entire conversation) will make very little sense once her temperature has gone down.

[eiattu_pride]

"Sorry?"

He sighs, shifting slightly.

"Okay. How about you sleep now?"

[fighting_mad]

"Quit--" She coughs. "Quit telling me what to do." But her eyes have been closed a while; her voice is quieter. Anger will only carry you so far.

[eiattu_pride]

"Not telling. Asking."

He cocks his head thoughtfully, then starts to hum under his breath.

[fighting_mad]

She cracks an eyelid at the humming.

"Rial?

"Shut up."

[eiattu_pride]

So he does.

Shakes his head, smiles at her.

[fighting_mad]

She doesn't notice it; she has shut her eyes again.

It's not long before she is dead to the world against his shoulder.

[eiattu_pride]

He carefully eases out from under her, covers her up, cleans the tissues off the floor. Then wanders back out to her desk and sits down with a stylus and datapad.

It's many, many hours later that he eventually closes his eyes just for a second and rests his head on the desk.

Cue snoring.

[fighting_mad]

* * *

Plourr wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning with a cool head and a slightly blurry memory of the evening before. She stares at the ceiling a moment, then comes to the decision that she finally feels a little better. She blows her nose, then rolls slowly out of bed and picks up a robe from the floor, slipping it on and stepping out of the bedchamber.

She stops short in the doorway, one hand still frozen over her yawn.


Why the kriff is there a count passed out at her desk?

It takes her a moment to take in the neat stacks of flimsi that had been wildly scattered the night before. And the datapad at his hand.

Her face softens. He may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a damn good man. She doesn't dare raise his head to put a pillow under it, but she does drop a blanket over him.

She creeps away on bare feet.

[eiattu_pride]

His first though is that there seems to be a stylus under his face. This is cause for 'whut'-ness.

And a blanket. There was no blanket when he went to sleep. When did he go to sleep?

The world is too confusing. He must be in bed and dreaming. So he rolls over.

Hello, floor.

[fighting_mad]

There is congested but bright laughter from the sofa, followed by polite applause.

[eiattu_pride]

".......uh."

There's a long pause.






Okay, floor. You are my new friend. Reach up blindly, grab blanket, curl up. Sleep time.

[fighting_mad]

"Rial, you could at least go sleep in the bed," says the voice. "I don't care."

[eiattu_pride]

"Wha?"

Bed. Bed. Bed is nice. But moving requires effort. He has none.

"Mmm?"

[fighting_mad]

A pillow hits him in the shoulder.

[eiattu_pride]

Long pause.








Sits up slowly, yawning and rubbing a hand over his face. "What're you doing?"

[fighting_mad]

She's sitting on the sofa with a mug of caf and a small holoprojector, watching something with the volume on low, surrounded by a sea of tissues (she'll pick them up eventually). Her short hair is sticking up in every possible direction, but her eyes are lucid as she glances over and says, "Throwing you a pillow if you're so determined to sleep on the floor." Duh.

[eiattu_pride]

"Oh."

He thinks on this, then gets up, cracking his back.

"Ouch. Better?"

[fighting_mad]

She props her bare feet up on the low-lying table. "That doesn't sound better."

[eiattu_pride]

"No, silly, I meant you."

Rolls his eyes, wandering back to the desk and picking up a datapad.

[fighting_mad]

"Did you just call me silly? What are we, five?"

The sarcasm is probably a good indicator of a yes.

[eiattu_pride]

"Yeah, why not."

He shrugs, eying the stacks of flimsi that are no longer as neat as they were.

[fighting_mad]

She eyes them, too, only probably more appreciatively than him. "You didn't have to do that, Rial. I would have handled it this morning."