eiattu_pride | (no subject)

Oh, dear.

Rial kneels and wraps his arms around her chest, attempting to tug her back against his chest.

"Feeling better?"

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.

Oh, dear.

One large hand comes up to lightly stroke her cheek, and he briefly rests his nose in her hair.

"Want to go back to bed?"

Pause for thought, eyes closed, and then one nod.

"Okay."

He shifts around until he's crouching.

"You need to get up, my princess."

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.

Rial gets a hand under her elbow, other arm wrapping around her torso.

"Atta girl. Try again?"

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.

Still supporting her carefully and rather like she might break at any second, he starts easing back towards the bed.

Softly, "Lucky you, get a couple days off from work."

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.

Rial can already see it coming, and wonders how angry she'd be if he simply tied her up.

Probably not a good idea.

He does eye the boots, however, and with a long-suffering sigh, start to take them off.

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.

Finally, both boots are off and Rial glances up, frowning at the look on her face.

Reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "You okay?"

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."

There's a moment, and then Rial gets up, opens the door, and beckons to one of the guards. Makes his request and returns, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'd try sleeping, if I were you."

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.

Rial stays there, for the time being, cross-legged on the side of the bed, one hand resting on her shoulder.

Guarding.

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.

He doesn't notice her, at first, running his fingers through his hair with one hand as his other waves a stylus in the air with vaguely threatening movements.

The guards notice, though, and shut up.

Rial hasn't clued in yet.

He seems to be taking his anger out on them. And the walls. And the kitchen, judging by the multiple empty mugs around him.

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.

Yep, he noticed that.

Turns around and frowns, getting up. "Plourr..."

"Morning," she says, and if her voice is a croak, they just won't speak of it.

"Go back to bed."

And that is the voice of one tired, at-the-end-of-his-rope count.

"Good morning--" She catches sight of a chrono, politely covering a yawn with a corner of blanket. "Afternoon t'you, too, Rial."

Rial glances at the chrono as well, frowning.

"It's afternoon already?"