Plourr Estillo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting_mad) wrote2006-07-31 04:23 pm
fighting_mad) wrote2006-07-31 04:23 pm
[OOM] Eiattu
Plourr sits at the inner living room's desk, head in one hand and holding a stylus to her mouth with the other, failing to notice the lipstick left on the stylus tip. Despite the late hour and low light, surrounded as she is by datapads and budget figures and capital ship blueprints, she isn't working. Instead, she is watching the four boxes neatly stacked beside the closed door of one of the guest bedrooms. She hasn't seen hide nor hair of Rial in a while. From the fact that those boxes still haven't been moved, she gathers that he probably fell asleep in the room that he'd chosen for his own.
She turns back to the desk, massaging at the hangover looming over her temple.
Some wedding night.
They like her.
They don't love her; there have been too many years of incompetent rulers for immediate trust, too many years of nobles living high up in the palace and never bothering to come down and see reality. But the Eiatti people genuinely like her.
When she slips her guards and goes out like she does sometimes, she doesn't bother to try to disguise herself. A woman of her height, of her build immediately stands out in a crowd, no matter what she does. Instead, she dresses in simple clothing, steps into her favorite battered boots and walks the city. And for the most part, they leave her be. There are no crowds, no one haranguing her; no responsibilities for a few hours. Just conversations; sometimes smiles, sometimes concerns (and she honestly likes those better); more 'thank you's than she ever could have expected.
She does her best to listen, but it's a lot of voices at once.
She goes to the capital city hospital before she leaves, always. The man in the bed in the psych ward on the sixth floor speaks only nonsense, only in low monotones; a far cry from the charismatic leader who had believed himself to be Prince Harrandatha Estillo. The Emdees tell her she gets more coherency out of him than anyone else (and she can't understand why), but that his mind is gone and isn't coming back.
They take good care of him at the hospital. She sees to that. She's talking to the Alliance about arranging for a Jedi to come to see what can be done for him, because he's not Plourr's brother and he's not a pawn of the Empire, but she still has to look away every time he cradles his mechanical arm close to his chest.
She visits every week, and she keeps it to herself.
She turns back to the desk, massaging at the hangover looming over her temple.
Some wedding night.
They like her.
They don't love her; there have been too many years of incompetent rulers for immediate trust, too many years of nobles living high up in the palace and never bothering to come down and see reality. But the Eiatti people genuinely like her.
When she slips her guards and goes out like she does sometimes, she doesn't bother to try to disguise herself. A woman of her height, of her build immediately stands out in a crowd, no matter what she does. Instead, she dresses in simple clothing, steps into her favorite battered boots and walks the city. And for the most part, they leave her be. There are no crowds, no one haranguing her; no responsibilities for a few hours. Just conversations; sometimes smiles, sometimes concerns (and she honestly likes those better); more 'thank you's than she ever could have expected.
She does her best to listen, but it's a lot of voices at once.
She goes to the capital city hospital before she leaves, always. The man in the bed in the psych ward on the sixth floor speaks only nonsense, only in low monotones; a far cry from the charismatic leader who had believed himself to be Prince Harrandatha Estillo. The Emdees tell her she gets more coherency out of him than anyone else (and she can't understand why), but that his mind is gone and isn't coming back.
They take good care of him at the hospital. She sees to that. She's talking to the Alliance about arranging for a Jedi to come to see what can be done for him, because he's not Plourr's brother and he's not a pawn of the Empire, but she still has to look away every time he cradles his mechanical arm close to his chest.
She visits every week, and she keeps it to herself.