[ The dreadful feeling fills him when he thinks of Alia for too long. Like him, something is otherworldly of his sister. His mother refuses to tell him what could possibly be wrong. Except, he knows, that Alia should not be the way that she has become.
I wonder how Bastila will react once she knows that my mother is now a Reverend Mother.
He has calmed from his visions but the signs of the ordeal still remain. The tension gives way to exhaustion and the sweat is obvious. How long has it been since he has seen something so intensly? He can recall the time he sat with his mother in a tent in the desert — the night the Hakonnens attacked and his father died.
The similarities. ]
Yes, I'm here. [ The look in his eyes cement his statement. His gaze hasn't wandered or detached from her. Instead, he stares intently at her as if she is the only thing in the world. ] It happens like this sometimes. Ever since we came to Arrakis.
[ Blue-in-blue eyes close and his cheek rests against her hand. How long has it been since they've touched one another? It feels like a lifetime ago. His gaze-half shuts as the feeling of sheer comfort washes over him. Something forgein to the deserts of Arrakis. ]
Then, you'll need to remove the armor. The only thing you need in the desert is the stillsuit. [ A long breath escapes him as the aches from tension followed by exhaustion ripple over him. ] Hopefully the Harkonnens gave you a rudimentary one underneath all that armor.
[ A show to the Fremen that she isn't one of them. We can discard the armor in the morning.
Paul leans once more into her hand before he pulls back his own. They reach up to remove the scarf head wrap that sits around his neck and shoulders. Then, a low pained moan escapes in a wheeze. The visions shouldn't cause such a pain — the powerful ones do. It's his own reaction to them.
While she busies with the armor he reaches over to a pack in the tent. Sheer blankets. He eases himself down onto his back, another grunt leaving him as he does. An arm out stretches for her to enter and join him on the floor once she is ready. The hand curls to the top of her head and works the tight bun she wears out to send her hair cascading down her shoulders. ]
You're not with the Harkonnens now. You don't need to dress as you are. [ He mumbles as if the act of speaking takes much from him. Then, to her earlier points: ] What I want is impossible. Life on Caladan with my father alive. Ruling from my ancestral home. Duncan, Gurney, Hawat. My sister to be born and know water as you and I know it.
Very few of us can chose our paths. You're one of those few, Basi. I don't know why.
no subject
I wonder how Bastila will react once she knows that my mother is now a Reverend Mother.
He has calmed from his visions but the signs of the ordeal still remain. The tension gives way to exhaustion and the sweat is obvious. How long has it been since he has seen something so intensly? He can recall the time he sat with his mother in a tent in the desert — the night the Hakonnens attacked and his father died.
The similarities. ]
Yes, I'm here. [ The look in his eyes cement his statement. His gaze hasn't wandered or detached from her. Instead, he stares intently at her as if she is the only thing in the world. ] It happens like this sometimes. Ever since we came to Arrakis.
[ Blue-in-blue eyes close and his cheek rests against her hand. How long has it been since they've touched one another? It feels like a lifetime ago. His gaze-half shuts as the feeling of sheer comfort washes over him. Something forgein to the deserts of Arrakis. ]
Then, you'll need to remove the armor. The only thing you need in the desert is the stillsuit. [ A long breath escapes him as the aches from tension followed by exhaustion ripple over him. ] Hopefully the Harkonnens gave you a rudimentary one underneath all that armor.
[ A show to the Fremen that she isn't one of them. We can discard the armor in the morning.
Paul leans once more into her hand before he pulls back his own. They reach up to remove the scarf head wrap that sits around his neck and shoulders. Then, a low pained moan escapes in a wheeze. The visions shouldn't cause such a pain — the powerful ones do. It's his own reaction to them.
While she busies with the armor he reaches over to a pack in the tent. Sheer blankets. He eases himself down onto his back, another grunt leaving him as he does. An arm out stretches for her to enter and join him on the floor once she is ready. The hand curls to the top of her head and works the tight bun she wears out to send her hair cascading down her shoulders. ]
You're not with the Harkonnens now. You don't need to dress as you are. [ He mumbles as if the act of speaking takes much from him. Then, to her earlier points: ] What I want is impossible. Life on Caladan with my father alive. Ruling from my ancestral home. Duncan, Gurney, Hawat. My sister to be born and know water as you and I know it.
Very few of us can chose our paths. You're one of those few, Basi. I don't know why.
[ He pulls the blanket over her. ]