eiattu_pride | (no subject)

"How're you feeling?"

Stretches, cracking his neck, and wanders over to her, dropping a light kiss to her cheek.

Her skin is hot under his lips, and not for the usual reasons. (She is careful not to breathe on him.) "Much better."

"Really?"

He doesn't believe her. Not one bit.

"Back to bed with you, my princess. Not doing yourself any good out here."

She sighs, resting her head against the doorframe. "I've just slept for at least fifteen standard hours. I--" Her creaky voice is interrupted by another fit of coughing. "I'm not going back to bed."

"That's what you think."

Rial takes another step forward.

"I'll pick you up, if I have to."

She doesn't back down, though she is looking up at him warily now. "I'm serious."

"I'm sure."

Another step. Arms reaching out.

Her arms cross more resolutely, though the combination of the mussed hair and the draped blankets detract from the look she's shooting him. "Rial, I mean it." Though she's starting to suspect that he does, too.

"Me," arms reaching out, getting into position to scoop her up and carry her back, "too."

As matter-of-factly as she can manage: "Rial, I don't need to go back to bed; I'm feeling better and the planet is i--"

And then he picks her up.

Hey. He warned her.

"The planet is in perfectly capable hands."

Walking through into her bedchamber, depositing her on her bed, "And you, lucky princess, get to stay in here."

A low shriek of fury escapes her as she's scooped up; the guards shuffle amongst themselves and pretend not to hear.

Once on their bed, it takes her a moment to extricate herself from the tangle that her blankets turned into, and then her head emerges. "What am I supposed to do now that I'm in here?" she demands, untangling her legs. "Twiddle my thumbs? Take up knitting? I am," she snatches a tissue off the bedside table and angrily blows her nose, "feeling better."

"Knitting wouldn't be a bad idea," he retorts.

"And if you get up now, you're giving yourself any time to heal. You'll be worse off again by night. Trust me."

He reaches over, and lightly pokes her shoulder.

"You want anything, or should I go back to work?"

He isn't taking her seriously, and for a second, she seethes.

She smacks his hand away, and then she is calm, her face set stubbornly, when she says, "Rial, I'm not sitting in here and doing nothing. Not when we're in the middle of trying to locate the Priamsta's base of operations, not when there are a million and one administratorial duties to take care of, and certainly not when I am perfectly capable of pulling my own weight."

"Perfectly capable."

There's a skeptical snort.

"I'll believe that when you're perfectly capable of eating - oh, and walking more then a few feet on your own. Go back to sleep, I've got things under control. And you're not helping."

"I got out there fine, didn't I?" she shoots back, stung, ignoring the way that her voice is cutting in and out in protest. "Kriff, I want to do something. I can't just lie here and stare at the ceiling. I'm not some fragile little frilly princess."

"So learn to knit."

He throws his hands up in frustration.

"Sleep. Dream interesting dreams. Get better. Watch a holo. I don't care."

He gets up, running his hands through his hair. "I'm going for a walk."

"Fine," she says sharply, settled back against the wall with her knees drawn up and her arms folded over her chest. "That's kriffing fine."

"Fine."

And he stalks out of the room, picks up a datapad and tosses it at the wall, then storms through the main door.

The guards, perhaps wisely, don't intervene.

~

He goes everywhere, finally ending up in a little garden close to the edge of the palace. It's raining softly, and he leans back against the wall, watching the stormy grey Eiattu sky.

Everything is different.

He doesn't want it to be different.

Stares at the sky, wondering if he should paint it in soft, muted watercolors, and he's sorry.

Plourr lets herself slide down into the bed, and she ignores her raw throat and screams into a pillow the second she hears the outer door close. A guard's footsteps approach then retreat.

It's not til she walks into the outer room (briefly, shakily) that she realizes that he went alone.

The princess lets their guards fucking have it. Lelian and Rher are speedily dispatched to find him, though she knows perfectly well that they won't, if he doesn't wish it.

She curls back into bed with her datapad and her worry, and the little room doesn't have any windows or exterior walls, but she almost imagines she can hear the rain.

She's ready for him to come back now.

Right now.

It's a good couple of hours before Rial, soaked and dripping water everywhere, opens the outer door and steps in. Lelian and Rher trail in behind him, looking slightly less wet but no less quiet.

There's a quick stop in the kitchen so that he can bend over the sink and squeegee the worst of the water out of his hair, peeling off a sodden outer tunic and leaving it on the floor.

He's tired.

Hesitates just in front of the door to their bedchamber, then knocks.

Plourr is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, bent over her datapad with a box of tissues and a glass of water close at hand. Her head rises at the knock and she shoves her hair out of her face. "Come."

The door opens, and Rial slips through as quietly as he can.

"Hey."

Crosses the room, hesitates by the bed, then crosses into the 'fresher and starts removing his soaking-wet clothes.

A pause, and then "Sorry."

She carefully slides out of the bed and pads over to the half-stocked dresser, pulling a tunic and pair of trousers from the top of first drawer she opens.

She squeezes into the tiny 'fresher and sets the dry clothes on the counter. Then she presses her chin against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his (wet, cold, and she doesn't care) side.

"Me, too." And honestly, it's not nearly as hard to say as it once would have been.

A quiet moment passes, and the relief--he's alright--is suffocating.

"Were you even armed?"

He's already shirtless, but his hair is dripping uncomfortably and he's cold enough to press back into her warmth.

Tilts his head back, "Yeah. Vibroblade."

He knows he was stupid.

But everything's so kriffed up and he just didn't know what else to do.

Another beat and then he's turning, kissing her, breaking away and "You know I love you, right? So much."