fighting_mad | [OOM] Eiattu

[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Chambers

Two hours after the group of snubfighters first touched down on Eiattu, the door to the royal apartments opens and a princess slips through. They have been two productive hours; the X-wings and Headhunters are all under the care of the mechanics, the Rogues who need medical attention are being looked after, her pilots have been spoken to and sent home, and the Rogues (quiet, all quiet) are settled into several sets of palace chambers for the night.

She's not looking particularly regal at the moment; she's wearing heavy boots, an orange flightsuit with the sleeves tied around her waist, and a white undershirt, and she has helmet hair to the extreme. Really, though, Plourr just doesn't care.

She dumps the duffel bag and helmet beside the door. Thud. Thud.

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Rial's been pacing.

Discreetly, however. Because he's subtle like that. Upon her return, he hastily sat himself down to peruse a datapad.

Glances up.

"There's a cup of caf on the table by the couch."

"Thanks," she says, voice gravelly, coming into the living area and collapsing onto the end of the sofa next to the table with the caf. She almost gets to reaching for it, too. But then she is slightly distracted by kicking off her boots.

Rial hesitates, then gets up and hands it to her.

"You going to be okay?"

Plourr takes the mug, glancing up at him for a second. She pulls her legs onto the couch and slowly curls up against the armrest.

Slow is the word of the evening. (Or the morning. Or whenever exactly it is. Plourr doesn't fucking know.) She moves like she's underwater, unwilling or unable to return to a normal speed.

Kriffing feels like she's underwater.

"I'm fine."

A low snort, "I'm sure."

Sits down next to her, and somewhat awkwardly pats her shoulder because he's seen people do it before and it seems to help.

She sits with her back against the armrest, knees pulled up between the two of them. She glances down, tips the mug to him and takes a sip.

Rial doesn't know what to do.

So he sits, and waits. For what, he's not sure.

Whatever it is, he probably won't find his cue from Plourr. She just quietly drains the mug of caf and unfolds herself from the sofa, moving silently into the kitchen. The water turns on.

Follows her quietly.

"I'm - I'm very sorry about Dllr."

The water is running into the empty mug in the sink and she stands with her hands braced on the counter, her head held low and face tilted away. She just nods, her back to him.

Shit.

Shit.

He approaches from behind, somewhat abruptly putting his hand on her shoulder. "Plourr-"

She just crumples over the counter on one elbow, her other hand rising to cover her face.

...kriff.

He makes a shushing noise, reaching around, doing his best to turn her away from the sink and into him, giving her the option to sob on his shoulder if need be.

It's a measure of Plourr's trust in Rial that she lets him, that she even releases her death grip on the counter. But she does.

She turns and wraps her arms tight around his neck and presses her forehead against his throat, concentrating on breathing shakily, leaning on him. She's trying to hold them back, fighting not to, but the silent tears are coming whether or not she wants them (and she vaping doesn't) and her hands won't stop shaking (and they really won't).

Hugs and holds and shushes her, gentle little nonsense words and rests his head on her hair, and (confidant and comfort, partner, and companion) she's here and broken in his arms and all he wants to do is cry.

But he doesn't.

Because she needs him, and he's going to hold her as long as she wants.

Not broken, Plourr Ilo is not broken; she didn't break twelve years ago and she's damn well not going to do it now. She just sobs, noiselessly besides her ragged breaths, into his neck. Her hand clenched in a fistful of his tunic's shoulder, she holds onto him. It's all she can do.

It's Herian, yes, a squadmate and a good person, but it's Dllr. Dllr, who's been in the squadron for longer than she has; who was one of the first to warm up to her when she first joined the Rogues and no one knew what to make of her. He was one of her boys and no matter what she'd said to Wedge, if she could have just gotten there a little faster--

It's a while before the wrenching sobs slow and finally stop.

He holds her the whole time.

Because he has to. It's duty and there's a vague sense of something new and something trusting, somoe joining of the two of them that wasn't there before, so he holds her until she stops crying.

One large thumb gently brushes a tear from her eye, his hand stroking her hair.

"Better?"

The return of the flat look that she shoots him is a decent sign. It loses much of its power with her face swollen and eyes red and puffy as they are, but it's a try. "They're still dead, Rial."

She steps back, against the counter, and reaches behind herself to finally turn off the faucet. She picks up a dangling flightsuit sleeve and roughly wipes her face with it. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Dead.

It's hard to wrap his mind around, even if he doesn't really know them.

"Don't be. You needed that."

She raises red eyes to his, says a quiet and utterly miserable-looking, "Thank you."

But she doesn't look away from him once she's spoken.

(She remembers. "I do love you... And I will marry you.

"And I can see in your eyes that the truth is dawning on you.")

"You're welcome."

Gazing at her quietly, half leans down, watching, ready to pull back if she desires.

So close.

So close--

And whatever the fuck she is feeling sends a jolt of pure terror right through her. She slams down on it, turns her face to the side.

"I'm going back with them."

He draws back, tries not to look disappointed.

"Oh."

And there's a lot he wants to say, but doesn't.

She can't handle that look on his face. But what she hates even more is that it bothers her.

She looks away, rubbing at her raw eyes again. "They're down to seven pilots now; they desperately need the help just to get the--" replacements and oh but she clenches her jaw at that word, "incoming rookies trained." It's only temporary, she's trying to say.

"Yeah. I understand."

Flatly, and he moves away, through the door and picks up a datapad from the table.

"I'd better get back to work."

He doesn't understand; she can tell.

They need me. They need me and you don't here, because I'm a goddamn terrible excuse for a leader and we all know it; Eiattu is so much better off without me here to kriff everything up; with you . In your hands.

I'm sorry.

Plourr nods numbly--"Right"--and then he's gone back into the other room. She passes through a few minutes later, on her way to her chambers, and she almost says something, comes so close--

She closes the bedroom door softly without another word.

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[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Chambers

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