[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

[fighting_mad]

The gathered advisors and aides look very, very wary and are very, very hesitant when Isplourrdacartha calls them inside; they saw the emperor's expression and his bloody mouth when he stormed out. It isn't difficult to put two and two together, particularly after noticing the unnatural bent to two of the empress's fingers.

The look that she

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[eiattu_pride]

It's an hour or so after dark when Rial gets home. It's been raining softly but steadily for about that amount of time as well, and he stamps mud off his boots before pulling them off in the little entrance hall.

There's a rather spectacular bruise blossoming on his jawbone, and he's damp from the wet. His expression is still closed off, quiet, deliberately blank.

He doesn't call Plourr's name, but checks through every room. When he doesn't find Plourr or Ianna he goes to the bedroom, showers quickly, and changes.

Expression exactly the same as when he walked in the door, he goes to his easel - currently sitting in the living room - takes out his paints and brushes, and sets to work.

[fighting_mad]

An hour later, Ianna advertises the advent of the empress and the princess far before Plourr does.

"Ba!" The little voice is muffled through the front door, but audible, and coming closer. "Ba, na na na!"

[eiattu_pride]

Rial smiles quietly, pausing for just a moment before continuing his work, long easy brushstrokes and the slow drawing out a huge, vaulted room.

His hand only falters very, very slightly when he realizes who must be bringing his daughter.

[fighting_mad]

"Yeah," says Plourr's voice. "Na na na is right, kiddo."

The front door hisses open, then closed. Ianna's happy babbling is suddenly a great deal louder; so are the heavy footsteps, followed shortly by the clatter and thud of boots being toed off.

To Plourr's credit, she doesn't start when she comes down the hall to find Rial sitting in the low light in the living room. She's dressed for the outdoors, as is Ianna, who's riding high in her mother's arms, wearing a rain jacket and a hat, with her fist tight on the upturned collar of Plourr's flight jacket. The middle and ring fingers of Plourr's left hand -- the hand steadying Ianna's back -- are splinted together and taped up. She looks tired, her hair wet. Ianna looks bright-eyed, satisfied, and bone dry.

"--Hey," Plourr says after a second's pause. "Take her for a minute?"

Ianna squeals and wriggles as she is brought closer to her papa, and she lets of of Plourr's jacket to make grabby hands at him. "Ba-ba!"