[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Stables

[fighting_mad]

Plourr hums quietly under her breath, pulling the bit out of her thak's mouth and the bridle from her face, rubbing her forelock. The thak noses her princess with her big head, and Plourr smiles and pulls the pieces of bluefruit she's been saving since breakfast from her jumpsuit pocket and feeds them to her. The stableboys could handle grooming for her, but she'd rather do it herself. Besides, the stable is nice; it's quiet and smells like hay and thak-feed, and the stablehands leave her alone when she comes in to take early-morning rides.

As Koer happily eats, Plourr starts the process of unsaddling her.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

The humming stops immediately, as does the quiet solitude. Plourr is standing on the opposite side of the thak, hands in the process of loosening the girth, and she pauses to look over the scaly back at him.

"--What?"

[eiattu_pride]

He vaugely pets the thak with the air of one who has far too much on his mind.

"For the wedding, they want you to look over them."

[fighting_mad]

Koer nips at his hand, looking for more bluefruit.

Plourr, on the other hand, just rolls her eyes and unfastens the girth. She lifts the heavy saddle and blanket off of Koer and sets them on the stall door. "What do they want my approval for? Every time anyone has asked my opinion in all this, it's just been ignored."

Possibly this is because her opinions involve things like trousers instead of a wedding dress.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial digs in his pocket, finds nothing but lint and a stylus, then frowns.

"Because you've been very stubborn about the whole thing. Anyway, would you please look over it?"

[fighting_mad]

Yeah, okay, she really can't argue that one.

Plourr slips the thak another slice of bluefruit, picking up a towel. She brusquely holds out her other hand for the datapad.

[eiattu_pride]

He hands it over, lightly rubbing the thak's nose.

"Have a nice ride?"

[fighting_mad]

"Yes," she says distractedly, skimming through the diagram and long list of names as she wipes down Koer's scales.

She pauses, eyebrows rising at the 'pad. "They seated your mother next to me?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Yeah, they thought it might promote good relations between you two."

He shifts.

"And they cordially request that I leave my moustache uncolored."

[fighting_mad]

She is not pleased. "I'll behave if she will." Though she privately thinks all it's going to promote is all-out war. She passes the datapad back, returning to wiping down Koer.

She grins. "No taste whatsoever."

[eiattu_pride]

"I'm sure she'll behave."

Hopefully. And he grins.

"I agree. Such a pity."

[fighting_mad]

"Did you see D'Arta last week?" she asks, smile suddenly bright and a tad wicked as she sets the towel aside and picks up a brush. Deft fingers gently pick the knots and burrs out of Koer's mane. "I thought that the green in his beard complemented his eyes."

[eiattu_pride]

"Really? I felt it clashed, myself."

Shrugs.

[fighting_mad]

She laughs, lobs the comb at him. A ride always improves her mood dramatically.

[eiattu_pride]

So he's noticed.

"If riding helps improve your mood this much, I'll have to suggest that we ride during the wedding."

[fighting_mad]

She snorts, then eyes Koer's mane a moment and says a little ruefully, "Can I have that back?"

[eiattu_pride]

He bends to retrieve the fallen comb, throws it at her.

"Anyone left who needs to be invited?"

[fighting_mad]

She snaps it out of the air and separates a few last tangles. "Hell, Rial, I don't know anybody here. Not that I saw."

[eiattu_pride]

"True."

He yawns, scrubbing a hand over his face."

Oh - my mother wants to see you."

[fighting_mad]

A truly wary look. "Your mother wants to see me? Why?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Something abour dresses."

Shrugs.

[fighting_mad]

She groans, pressing her forehead against the thak's cool scales.

[eiattu_pride]

"Sorry."

Grin.

"I just relay the messages."

[fighting_mad]

"Want to relay that I don't want to wear what she liked?" she grumbles, stroking Koer's face (and earning an affectionate head-shove for her troubles) and then coming out of the stall. She presses the door closed behind her and picks up the saddle, moving across the stable to put it up in the tack room.

[eiattu_pride]

He remains where he is, leaning against the stall door and smirking.

"I could."

[fighting_mad]

"I hear a 'but,' " she calls from within the tack room, shoving the saddle up onto a post.