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synthneon2025-02-23 09:21 pm
spicetrance) wrote in synthneon2025-02-23 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
skies of rust || ❝ d'you breathe the name of your saviour in your hour of need. ❞
'Cause without your love my life
Ain't nothing but this carnival of rust
no subject
There is love... familial love. But, I don't know her yet. I don't know her likes, her dislikes, her goals, her dreams. Only what she insists I do through dreams. [ His eyes narrow slightly before sighing once more and shaking the thoughts away. ] Another time. You'll understand more once you reunite with my mother.
[ Surely Bastila's Bene Gesserit training taught her of the spice agony. What it takes to become a Reverend Mother. She surely knows of the Gom Jabbar. The mere thought of the test and the box causes a tremor in the hand that rests on her cheek. Only for a mere moment before he suppresses it again.
Did my mother tell her I was to be tested by the Supreme Reverend Mother?
A look of understanding crosses his face at her first response. Her answer is to be expected. Bastila has always wanted security and strength. The station of concubine is beneath her and always has been. Even knowing so, he had needed to make his intentions and his feelings known. Put things to rest so that they could move forward. ]
She has always deserved to be recognized as my father saw her. When the Supreme Reverend Mother came to Caladan? She treated her as if she was a mere servant in her own home. [ The whole situation has never sat right with him. ] She has become a respected member of the tribe. Maybe even feared, depending on who you ask.
[ His eyes glance upwards at the passing Freman. They will need to cut their conversation short soon in order to not draw further attention. He was going to say just as much until he hears what he hadn't expected. Blue-in-blue eyes immediately raise to hers once more. They lock. He listens intently to every word she says. He feels how his body reacts once more to her.
"You may court me."
Paul stares.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
His attention drifts as an image fills his mind, his eyes, his senses. The strong smell of spice incense carrying through the room. Thin curtains drifting at the bed. The mural of fish behind him in the room that was once his in Arrakeen. A woman standing at the long slit of window, and beyond her, the still night sky of Arrakis. The bustling city of Arrakeen just beyond hearing.
Paul stares at the woman in front of him with long chestnut hair.
She turns to him with a smile and hands folded over her stomach. Blue-in-blue eyes that were once like the deep soil of Caladan shine back at him.
⸻Basi.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
A sense of dread fills him as he knows what Bastila tries to show him. The people in the streets chanting his Fremen name. The prayers. The praise. The worship. Calling for their Mahdi to lead them to Paradise. Amongst it all she's there with...
ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ. ᴅʀɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ.
His mind immediately refocuses on what he knows he can feel and touch. The tent around him. The stillsuit he wears. His thumb on Bastila's cheek. The low light of the tent lamp. The sounds of the Fremen cheering and dining of another successful night. Bastila. A sharp inhale followed by another until he calms himself to look back at the woman in front of him. The woman who seems to have so many paths open to her when none seem open to him.
He moves in one fluid motion.
Hand raises to pluck the tent light from its hanging position and extinguish it. The tent is shrouded in darkness. That way the ones beyond the tent can't see.
Then, his hand rests once more against her face. ]
I thought you were dead. [ Voice barely above a whisper once more and nearly repeating himself. This time, however, he says it as Paul Atreides and not her duke. Hands curl against her. ] Only bones left like my father, our advisors, our men...
[ They will worship at the shrine of my father's skull... the ritual and mythos of Maud'dib spreading through the Known Universe⸻
⸻ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
She COULD be there with... a child...
The image comes to mind again of her dressed in Harkonnen battle armor. Fighting him. Plunging the blade into his chest.
Or, she could kill me. What does she truly want?
DRINK AND YOU WILL SEE.
Paul ignores the clawing visions attempting to take him from the present. ]
What is it you want, Basi? [ The voice barely above a whisper suddenly sounds haunted. ] You can choose. You have to choose.
no subject
[ To Bastila, it seems more than a little suspicious that Paul's supposed sister is insisting on anything, especially when said sister is not even physically with them. ]
What are her motivations? What are her reasons for steering you in that direction? [ I have not even met her and I don't think I trust her.
She notes the way that Paul's hand tremors against her cheek, and instinctively, she moves closer to him, wanting to offer reassurance.
She can only venture a guess at what he might be thinking of, but the look on her face tells her that it is not a pleasant memory. A stray thought enters her own mind then, but that would be too much of a coincidence for them to be thinking about the same thing. And, really, she isn't certain how much she believes in coincidence anyway. ]
Are you glad that the tribe respects her? I imagine the respect they offer is somewhat different from the respect she might have received on Caladan, if she was given the respect she deserves. Feared, however...
[ She thinks that over for a moment. ] Your mother does have her moments of being rather fearsome, I would say. [ There is a force behind Jessica that appears from time to time, and while Bastila would not say she fears the woman, she can cautiously appreciate that forcefulness.
As she sits there with Paul, she notices how he seems to drift away from her, a little at a time. And where he's going seems to be somewhere she can't follow. Perhaps it's a vision, or a waking dream, and if the things he spoke of just moments ago are any indication, she imagines that what he might be seeing may not be all that pleasant.
Still, all she can do is sit there with him while he navigates whatever strange things he is seeing, and hope that when he comes back from it, he is still himself. From what she understands of visions and dreams, they have a strange way of changing a person.
And as far as she can tell, Paul has been changed quite enough already, although she knows that most, if not all of these changes, are well outside her control, if she ever had any control at all.
For now, she waits. She waits for Paul to navigate the weirdness of his visions and return to her. Eventually, he does, and the only way she can tell that is by the way she touches her face. And then she hears his next words and she leans in closer to him, the desire to comfort him growing stronger by the second. ]
I survived, Paul, and so did you. We survived together, even though we were apart. [ Perhaps her words make no sense. Perhaps he will dismiss them as stupidity. Their survival had nothing to do with anything the other was doing. ]
What is it I want? [ For her, the choice is easy. ] I want to be with you. If I have to be your concubine, I will. If I can be your... your lady, I will. As long as I can be with you.
[ She would even walk behind him carrying his belongings if it meant being with him. ]
no subject
[ Her questions of his mother are left unanswered as the visions claw at his mind. He hears them, but they hardly seem relevant to what he is seeing. Hearing. Feeling. He struggles to focus on her in the present with how his mind is pulled in so many places. Why do these visions come to him now of all times?
Because she's here. The visions are of her —— her paths.
An insurmountable force feels as if it weighs on him. This moment, this choice can shift so many things around them. A born member of a house sworn loyalty to the Atreides, naturally gifted in ways that the Bene Gesserits honed. A woman who knew how both houses of the Atreides and Harkonnens functioned due to her time in each one. A woman with great potential to shift the balance of power as the Imperium stands on the edge of a knife on Arrakis. Paul stares at her as that awareness settles on him.
Bastila Shan is a force in the Known Universe.
Does she know?
Did the Bene Gesserits know? Had that been why they chose to train her? ]
My sister wants me to go south. [ His voice, still quiet above a whisper, has become haunted. Far away. ] She wants me to see. She and my mother want me to become what they want me to be. What they think I am.
[ ᴋᴡɪꜱᴀᴛᴢ ʜᴀᴅᴇʀᴀᴄʜ.
The tone in his voice remains as he continues: ] You have so many paths. So many possibilities——futures. All the paths at your fingertips, Basi. Just waiting for you to take a step down the one you desire. Not the ones anyone else desires.
[ He blinks once, twice, trying to pull himself to the present. His mind only focuses on her figure. Standing behind her as she stands before roads that stretch far beyond what he can witness. Bastila glances over her shoulder at him. He reaches out to touch her. In the present, the hand on the side of her face opens. Fingers stretch out to brush along her cheek.
"I survived, Paul, and so did you. We survived together, even though we were apart."
Eyes stained with the spice addiction lock onto hers. He sees her and sees her at the same time. Paths begin to converge and fold on one another. One by one they disappear until only one is left remaining in front of her. Paul simply stares at her in both places as the sudden feeling of powerlessness grips him.
"I want to be with you."
She steps forward on the one remaining path. A path tinged in gold.
That force upon him feels as if it has begun to disintegrate. Like sands pouring down the dunes. The choice made——the path she will walk set. Allegiances decided and her power placed in a destiny. All the ways of describing it swirl in his mind as he feels himself center in the present once more. The feeling of the tent, the sounds of the Fremen, his heavy breathing along with her calmed one.
The smell of cinnamon as the wind blows through the camp. Spice. ]
Me. [ Another blink as his vision finally focuses properly on her. His tone remains as it has been the last several moments, but he is here with her once more.
His body aches from the tension he had been under. His mind already setting through the stages to force his body to calm. His other hand raises to her other cheek. Fingertips move the strands of hair away from her face. Then, he leans forward to meet her. Sweat glistens on his skin as he stops millimeters away from resting his forehead to hers.
Paul gives her a tired smile. ] What would my lady have me do for her?
no subject
[ She has some knowledge of situations such as this, but that is all it is: the barest of facts, and she knows that facts do not always reflect reality. Paul's sister could turn out to be quite different indeed, and so Bastila resolves to not have any expectations for how she will behave or what she will be like.
For now, however, her focus and her concern is on Paul. To her eyes, he does not appear well. The spice surely is affecting him, but there is more to it than that. She knows now that he can see things; he can view events that may or may not come to pass. She can only guess at what he might be seeing now.
But he could be having a vision of the most mundane thing, and she would still hold his hand and touch his shoulder and call his name, doing whatever she had to in order to call him back.
She does not intend to be vain enough to believe that she is the only one who can bring him back from his visions, but at the present, she is the only one in the tent with him, and so for now, the responsibility falls to her. ]
That is what they want, but it is not what you want, so why should you do it? If you do not think it is the right thing, then you should find what the right thing is for you.
[ She shakes her head. ] I do not want all of those paths, those futures. I want a future with you, in which I can meet you in an alcove if that is what we decide... in which I can grab you by the collar and shake you if it seems that is necessary.
[ Her mouth twitches to one side as if in something like amusement. She might not be so bold in front of others, but when it is only them? She sees no reason to hide that. ]
Are you still with me? [ She can see that he is trying to pull himself out of whatever it is that he has been seeing, and in an attempt to guide him back, she moves her free hand to touch the side of his face in return, mirroring how his hand is brushing against her cheek. ]
Yes, you. [ She continues to look at him with a growing intensity in her gaze. ] I would have you lie down next to me. [ Then she smiles a smile that is warm and inviting, but not enticing, not in that way. Now is not the time for them to lose themselves entirely, not when there is an entire group of people not very far from them. ] Lie down next to me and let me hold you.
And if now is not the time, then later when there is time. And don't say that there isn't, because we will make time, Paul Atreides.
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. ]
no subject
The request that Paul stay with her is on the tip of her tongue, but reason tells her that things do not work that way. Paul's visions will most certainly continue, and all she can do is simply sit there and watch and wait, hoping that he will return.
What if he does not return one day? She shakes her head slightly as if trying to reject that thought and not allow it to take root. ]
I do not like these visions of yours, but I imagine they cannot be helped.
[ She gives him a considering look, as if trying to reassure herself that he is, for the moment, alright. And then, without another word, she begins to remove the armor given to her (or thrust upon her, as is more accurate) by the Harkonnens.
Personally, she would burn the armor, or bury it deep enough that no one will ever find it again. But then, perhaps that would offend the Fremen, given the existence of sandworms in the- well, in the sand. ]
Paul, you should lie down. [ She can see how he moves and hear the sounds he makes, all pointing to the fact that he is not well. He might not be physically injured, but a healthy person does not make sounds like the ones he is making. ] Let me see to readying the tent.
[ But perhaps she did not speak quickly enough, as before too long, Paul has set blankets on the floor and finally settles himself down there as well.
She quickly puts the armor to the side and puts it out of her mind, at least for the moment, and she moves to join Paul on the floor of the tent. When he reaches for her hair and begins to loosen it so that it can flow freely, she smiles. Paul always knows how to make her feel special... appreciated... perhaps even loved. ]
I can't bring your father back, or your old life, although I wish more than anything that I could. You should have that life still. Your father should still be here; your family should still be on Caladan. [ She makes that distinction because House Atreides held Caladan for years; years upon years. She has not been a part of this family for that long, in the grand scheme. ]
As for my path- I have already chosen it. It's right here.
no subject
Nothing will stop his visions. They had been dreams once. Now? They're both. Dreams when he sleeps, visions when he wakes. A gentle breeze of air with spice could cause them to happen. Certain people, places. Nothing is truly coherent about when and where they happen. Nothing to control them.
⸻ᴋᴡɪꜱᴀᴛᴢ ʜᴀᴅᴇʀᴀᴄʜ.
His eyes close as she settles beside him.
The hand that bears the ducal ring stills against her hair. Then, slowly, each finger starts to move along the strands of the waves. They held hands and hugged one another as children. There had been times they slept beside each other under the large trees in summer days, falling asleep to the studies given to them. Never anything intimate as this. ]
No, [ he finally answers her earlier statement, ] I don't think they can be helped... or stopped. Dr. Yueh thought it was just a sensitivity to spice. That's not true.
[ It's something about ME. Who I am. WHAT I am. What I can become. ]
None of this should have happened. My father knew it was a trap. He walked into it knowing there was nothing that could be done. We simply failed to know when the trap would spring. [ Fingers gently twine into her hair and untwine. His eyes remain closed as his breathing still sounds ragged at times. ] You should be at home on Caladan with us.
[ Her house may be a minor one underneath the Atreides. They may not have had the wealth as the Great House in charge of Caladan. None of that mattered to him. Bastila was a friend. Someone finally near his age that he could talk to and be himself around. Not the ducal heir, not the "young pup" or "lad", not someone to train. Just himself: Paul Atreides. She became family. Then, more than family. Despite the best efforts of his mother.
His eyebrows knit together slightly as memories call to him. Their first meeting in the alcove in the hidden parts of Palace Caladan. It was a harsh storm that night, the worst in a decade. They had secured the palace. Something inside him had told him Bastila was missing. He slipped away from his mentors and went searching. He listened to his instincts and eventually found himself in the older parts of the building. Parts that had been forgotten or only used by the staff when they were not to be seen by visiting parties. She sat underneath an alcove with bared windows, except the glass had long since been destroyed. The overhang kept the wind and most of the rain from soaking the area.
Paul had quietly sat down beside her. He didn't move or speak--not until she spoke first. He told her of his family and his mentors, asked her about her home and her family. The area she found herself in had been explained next. Conversation until she had calmed and he could reach to hold her hand. Secure, gentle, and an unspoken offer to be there if she had needed a friend. Thunder roared and lightning cracked across the sky. She jumped and Paul had pulled her into a gentle embrace to shield her from the palace that seemed to frighten her down to her bones.
They met often in the alcove after that. Taught each other lessons. Learned and became fluent in not only the Atreides battle language, but ancient signed language that he had just used moments ago. Their way of speaking behind the adults.
The arm around her pulls her closer. The other then wraps around her. The same embrace he gave her all those years ago in Caladan. Except now wind gently moves sand and spice around outside. A tent instead of an alcove. Paul presses the side of his head to hers. ]
I thought you were dead. [ A third time he says it, and this time, with nothing to hold back the pain in his voice. No pretenses of being the Duke of House Atreides, Maud'dib of the Fremen. Paul as she has always seen him. ] I asked if you were going to come to Arrakis with us. I wanted you to come. I thought I led you to world that trapped us. That they paraded your body around as they surely have done with my father, then left your bones to the desert. All because I wanted you here with me.
[ The hand at her hair curls into it then. His voice cracks. ] I mourned for my father, and the others, then moved forward. But not you. I kept mourning you and the time I thought we lost. The things I never shared or asked you because of politics and ceremony. I couldn't let it go... let you go.
no subject
She wonders if Paul sees them on that path in his visions, or if all he sees is the path leading both of them further apart. Her hands clench into fists for a moment as a sudden urge to curse that path arises; she wants to reject that path while reaching out to grab hold of the path that brings them closer together. It's the path she wants.
A contented sigh escapes her as Paul begins to move his fingers through her hair. This feels right and comforting and it feels like something they have done for years. Perhaps when he tires of touching her hair, she will return the favor and begin tending to his own hair. She never dared be so forthright in front of Jessica or Leto, but in the moments that were just her and Paul, she found the urge rising to just touch him, if he allowed her to and if she was bold enough to go through with the action.
Sometimes she was and sometimes she was not, and the times that she was not, she wished that she could just act without worrying about what people thought about her. What does Paul think about me? She would ask herself and be unable to come up with an answer. ]
Well, whether they can be stopped or not, I will be right here if you need someone to hold your hand.
[ Even if he does not reach back, I will not leave him to deal with this alone. ]
What if your father had not gone to Arrakis? What if he had refused the charge and stayed where he was? I- As much as I agree with you, and as much as I wish that your father were still with us... [ What if one of us had died instead of him? Not Paul, and not Lady Jessica. Absolutely not the Lord Duke.
Bastila knows that she is hardly a replacement for Leto, and her death in his stead would mean next to nothing in the grand scheme. But a part of her wishes she could have taken his place so that he could be here with Paul instead.
She senses and sees Paul slip back into visions or memories or both, and she simply waits, lying beside him waiting for him to return from whatever it is that he is seeing. Perhaps this is simply how it will be between them: Paul will have visions and dreams and Bastila will sit with him and hold his hand and wait for the visions to recede once more.
At least this time, whatever memories Paul is seeing seem to be less harrowing than the visions he had had before. That is a small relief and Bastila finds herself releasing a breath she had not known she was holding in.
After a moment, Paul seems to leave the memories behind, returning to the present and this moment with her. She moves to squeeze his hand but he finds she beats her to it: he pulls her in closer and wraps an arm around her, upon which she settles into his hold as if she belongs there. Fits there. This is where they belong: together, if not exactly in this specific place. ]
I should have been. I do not know why I was allowed to live, when so many others did not. But Paul, I will not have you thinking that any of this was your fault. Even if I had not survived, it would not have been your doing, nor would I allow you to blame yourself.
I would follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to, and I would do it again without a second's thought. How could I not be here with you, with your family? If Arrakis was to be our end, I would rather be here with you than living safely on Caladan or elsewhere.
[ Still, she greatly feels the losses that have happened; Paul's father, his teachers, so many people who meant something to both of them. They should all still be here. They should all still be alive. ]
I would have mourned for all of you, and I did, in my own way, but- the Harkonnens were watching. I did mourn, but I could not let you go, not even once. Not even for a second. They said that you were dead, that your parents were dead. Parents, servants, teachers... anyone who had ever even come close to the Atreides was dead. And I would be too, if I did not do exactly as I was told.
But they could not stop me from thinking.
THREAD COLLAPSE.
Why?
Some led them apart. Some led them closer. The one that she has chosen is lined in gold. He can only see parts of it. Moments. It could lead to a child... children. It could lead to danger hiding in the shadows. Paul can't see the details and he truthfully doesn't wish to see anymore. He has seen enough. ]
The fallout from ignoring an order from the Emperor would have been tremendous. [ Fingers continue to stroke into her hair. ] A loss of holdings in CHOAM. Military involvement. War if sides had been picked between the Atreides and the Emperor. Taking the offer of Arrakis was the least damaging to the Imperium. Just not to our house.
[ Paul, in his childish way, would have wished no one to die. No one taking the place for another. Someone would have died. The Emperor was out for blood. The fact that the wards had survived, and unborn child, will send rippled through the Imperium. Shock and awe. It will make a statement grander than what the Landsraad can quickly decide on. How he will do that, and how he can even garner their attention? He has no idea on how to do just yet. All he knows is that he must cripple the Harkonnens to the point it brings spice trade down to get the emperor involved. ]
There is more to you than simply being a ward to my family, Basi. There is more for you to see in this life--more you could do. Asking if you would come almost destroyed those possibilities. Staying with me may close them off to you entirely. You could have always asked the Sisterhood to help you off-world. They would have risked incurring the wrath of the Harkonnens. They don't fear the Baron like most do.
[ That was, at least, the impression he had garnered from the Supreme Reverend Mother. ]
Why stay here if you thought us all dead?
[ They must have kept her alive as to not garner the wrath of the Bene Gesserits so openly. They wouldn't care if they upset the witches. It's more the political power play at hand. Killing an acolyte of the Bene Gesserits would bring unfavorable views as opposed to the Landsraad knowing, but not saying, that the blood feud with the Atreides had ended on Arrakis. ]
They won't care that you are missing. They'll proclaim you as dead. The Sisterhood may be angered, or, they may know that you have disappeared into the desert. The Harkonnens can simply say that Maud'dib killed all in the facility and left nothing behind. They sent you there to die.
All because they don't know who is behind Maud'dib. Just a Fremen insurgent.
[ He rests his head against hers further. Eyes remained close. They'll need to sleep at some point. Yet, his mind races with everything for the need to catch up on what has been missed because of these events. Not just arriving on Arrakis. What should of been said before they left Caladan. ]
I wonder what will you do now to help Maud'dib's cause?
[ Paul feels the words unable to leave him. She has agreed to courtship, but, another thing he wishes to say remains lodged inside him. It must not be the time to say it, if there is ever such a thing as a time to say anything. ] I would have you at my side, Bastila Shan. Confidant, friend, advisor, suitress.
no subject
If he can just admit that they are connected and hang all the rest of his visions, except for the ones he wants to see become reality? That is good enough for her. Of course, she can't know the nature of his thoughts, even though she can venture a guess at them based upon his expressions and his words.
And, well, if what he can see leads them closer, and if it leads to children... So much the better. She wants a life with Paul, and if that life includes having a family together, again, she has no complaints. ]
I know that there was no ignoring the orders from the Emperor, but I wish that the outcome had been different. I know we all wish that, and that there is no use in wishing, but I can hardly help it. If I could reach back and do something to save your father, you know that I would.
[ She hums quietly in thought, not because she finds anything about this moment they are sharing anything less than serious, but because she needs a moment to gather her thoughts. She knows that she stays close to the Atreides by her own choice; it may not have started out that way, and some would say it still is not her choice, but even if she had all the choices in the world, she would still stay with them as long as they allowed her to. ]
There may be an entire world out there for me to see, and much more for me to do, but- I choose to remain here. I choose to remain with you. I do not need those other possibilities, whatever they may be. All I need is to be yours, to walk with you and talk with you and simply be here. I would never ask the Sisterhood for that.
[ For anything, if she is being honest with herself. Well, that is not entirely true. She would ask for their help if it came down to Paul's life being in danger and the Sisterhood could do something about it.
She stares at Paul then, or what she can see of him, with a longing in her eyes: a longing to place both hands on either side of his face and pull him in for a kiss. But for the moment, although it takes great effort, she refrains. ]
I did not- I was not ready to give all of you up as dead. How could anyone be ready for that?
[ She had thought about what she would do if she was the only one left alive; would she try to leave Arrakis? Surely the Sisterhood would see her secreted off-world. But where would she go? What would she do? Either path seemed to lead to no future that she wanted for herself. ]
I do not care what the Harkonnens think. The only thing that I have to say about them is that I wish they were all dead, and of course, that is an impossibility.
[ She slides a little closer to him then, pressing more of herself against him, simply because she wants to be close to him, not because she wishes to do anything more. The time is not right for that, she tells herself. ]
I wonder... What would Muad'dib have me do? Still, I find that what Paul Atreides desires to be of greater importance.
[ He states what he would have her do, and she smiles warmly at him. ] Then it is good that I am here with no intention of ever leaving your side. And if you wish for me to fulfill those roles for you, I shall do my best to see your wishes fulfilled to the letter.
[ And again, that urge to simply kiss him without thought of propriety rises to the surface. How long can she resist this urge? ]