eiattu_pride: (Default)
[personal profile] eiattu_pride

The door, thankfully, opens on the quarters that they're sharing at the moment. Rial glances out of the corner of his eye at the guards, still supporting Plourr.

To her, "Almost almost there, mmkay?"

To the guards, "Mind opening the door?"

Date: 2006-10-11 05:36 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (bald - white)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
The three guards, who had been just lounging around the living area, are suitably startled by the princess and the count arriving out of nowhere, and doubly so by the way that Count Pernon is clearly barely keeping Princess Isplourrdacartha on her feet. So Lelian jumps up even faster than she normally might, to open the door for them.

They walk through, and Plourr hasn't been sitting on the edge of the bed four standard seconds before she's up and in the small 'fresher fast. Thankfully, her balance syncs with her brain enough that she makes it in time. Less thankfully, she's pretty sure she's throwing up everything she's ever eaten over the course of her life.

Date: 2006-10-11 04:45 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (sad)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
After a few minutes of unpleasantness, she spits (it's very ladylike) and folds her forearms on the seat. Curled on her knees, she lets her head fall against her arm, and she doesn't even have the heart to curse.

Date: 2006-10-11 05:01 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - mmmm)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
She lets him pull her back, though to be fair, she feels sick enough right now that fighting him isn't exactly an option. Face white besides spots of color high in her cheeks, skin clammy, head clamoring -- yeah, she's going to have words with the man from Milliways if she sees him again.

She shakes her head minutely.

Date: 2006-10-11 07:27 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - intense stare)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Pause for thought, eyes closed, and then one nod.

Date: 2006-10-11 07:46 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (bald - eyes dark)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Okay. Okay, she can do this. It's just putting a hand on the counter like this and pulling herself up like tha-- too fast. She gets halfway up only to go right back down on her knees again.

This is not fun. However, she's talking again. Even if it's less talking, more half-hearted muttered cursing in several languages.

Date: 2006-10-11 07:52 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - flat look)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Atta girl?

Ordinarily, he might get smacked for that one. As is, she just shoots the 'fresher a wobbly flat look and lets him help her to her feet, wrapping a steadying arm around his neck the first chance she gets.

Date: 2006-10-11 09:38 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - yeah huh)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
A little rest isn't sounding so bad, as she walks (or stumbles, to be more accurate) with him, but-- a couple days? Oh, there will be arguing.

Later, though. Not now. For now, she's just helped over to the bed, where she sits down with her back against the (mercifully cool) wall. It takes far too much energy to swing her legs (unmindful of her boots) up onto the bed.

Date: 2006-10-11 09:52 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (bald - white)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
No. No, that's a pretty terrible idea. Maybe unless it involved a copious lack of clothing, and even then -- it would depend on the situation.

Plourr would help if she could; she makes vague motions toward her feet, but decides that sitting up is A, not worth the trouble and B, probably not going to happen under her own power at this point, as she's struck by another wave of nausea.

So she keeps her mouth shut, jaw set tightly, and she lets her head tip back against the wall.

Date: 2006-10-11 10:02 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - smug)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
A minute or two of deep breathing and then she says, mouth twisted into a rough approximation of a wry smile, "Might want to have a bucket or a bowl nearby, just in case."

Date: 2006-10-11 10:50 pm (UTC)
fighting_mad: (long - eyes closed)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
The attempt at a smile vanishes almost as fast as it'd appeared, and sleeping sounds like a pretty good idea right about now.

She doesn't bother to pull back the covers; just curls up on top of the blankets and closes her eyes where she is.

Date: 2006-10-12 02:27 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - serious)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
A guard brings a bowl from the kitchen, and it turns out to have been a wise investment. Plourr's in and out of the 'fresher several more times, and by the last one, everything's getting blurry and hot, and she has a vague memory of being lifted up.

* * *

It's the next day before a princess emerges from the bedroom; mid-afternoon, to be specific. Her hair is wild and she's wrapped in a blanket like it's some strange form of ceremonial dress, her bare feet silent on the cold floor. Flushed with fever still, if less deathly pale, she leans against the doorjamb and she watches the three guards talking quietly amongst themselves, and she watches Rial.

Date: 2006-10-12 02:33 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - regret)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
Plourr's eyes fall on Rial and Rial alone, and maybe she's about to say something or to cross the room, but the loud couple of coughs that escape her ruin any possible chance at stealth.

Date: 2006-10-12 02:38 am (UTC)
fighting_mad: (medium - listening)
From: [personal profile] fighting_mad
"Morning," she says, and if her voice is a croak, they just won't speak of it.

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