deercountry | i know that the sun is here with me

[ winter mournings had been the ritual that brought paul and falco together, a bond first wrought across a battlefield of showering bombshells, bullets and debris, gunfire that confused the senses and trenches flubbed in either mud or cleaved bodies. it's been a year since then, a full year since they didn't know each other's name, and the elder carried the younger to safety. falco has not forgotten the heat of his encircled arms in the chaos, and every moment he has a chance to, he's sure to spread his growing arms around paul no matter the time, whether it be soothing or turbulent.

falco makes a wreath destined and designed specifically for each special person in his life. paul's piece of antler is dyed gold and sprinkled with white at its tips, with a silver knot tied to the end of a crimson string that dangled from the antler's base. with it is a pair of golden feathers, small and arched. sadly, they're not from him, but they could pretend it wasn't from one of falco's golden, fashionable hens for just a moment. it was gold.

it is not much of their choice at all when its paul's antler that brings forth a memory somewhere, someday, and bracing for what should come was an instinct. the ritual, should there be memories, were usually of hardships and times of survival. he does not expect, though it brings him some ease, when he's able to join paul around the girth of a burning fire and . . . his father?

he briefly remembers the sweet melody of the mother's hum. loving and gentle. conversation had not kept paul's father in shadows, but falco has yet to know him better. ]

I'd love to.

[ then again, paul had paleblood— what were the odds that the danger has been sweeped away? it was greater than it was less. oh, and what was this sudden feeling of jittering? the cold, or nervous (excited) anticipation? falco wraps his black-wool mantle a little tighter around him to ward off the cold that may be causing it, but greater than that would be the pressure of paul's larger frame being angled into by a teen growing lankier by the day. ]

—Will we be okay here?

Edited 2022-12-09 21:12 (UTC)

[Paul leans comfortably back, still (as ever) a little surprised at Falco's continued growth. Only a year ago he'd been reasonably sized to carry, and now - Paul has not gotten sturdier at the same pace Falco has simply become more substantial in every aspect.

But the younger teenager is right. Paul has swept away the challenge that once inflected this memory, and he hums amicably as he slings his arm around Falco's shoulders while he's still taller enough for it to be easy.]

We're safe. Don't be worried.

[He'd never let Falco wind up in danger in a dream he controls now. His Paleblood magic a year ago is nothing compared to what it is this winter. He could spindle and fold this whole forest like paper within the confines of a Mourning. It's the only time where he can brush against the mastery of dreams possessed by his mentor Lazarus.]

He's bringing fish, if you're hungry. It won't count when you wake up, but it's still good.

[ with the trust he has in paul, falco quite quickly relaxes his shoulders under the elder boy's embrace, the flash of his teeth quick and dipped with a meek, muffled laugh. if he says he doesn't need to worry, then he doesn't. ]

It still counts.

[ maybe not for their stomachs, but still, in their hearts, minds and tongue, it shall be savored just as much as the weight around his shoulders. maintaining his curiosity sparked yet light, he asks with certain mindfulness: ]

Has it been long since the last time you've seen him?

[The question is more complicated than Paul wants it to be, but ultimately, he knows that Falco would mean his father as he truly was, not any of the distorted echoes that Trench has spit up. Paul strives not to recall the listless shambling doppelganger in the catacombs, or the desecrated remains of his sister-self's memory.

Those things are far away from this place. Paul breathes deep, rolling the taste of homeworld air over his tongue.]

Last year, around this time.

[He squeezes Falco lightly, like he's the one in need of comfort. Maybe he is. Paul knows he's been through too much when it comes to his own family ties.]

I was hoping this would happen again. That it would be somewhere here. This is Caladan, where I was born.

[ paul would be not left alone in his state as a blanket. falco's arms had yet to really gain enough circumference to completely engulf paul in his arms, but what he does have is enough to keep him in a little bear hug to remind him of his love— they give, return, and give, always. and give a little more.

he honestly shouldn't sound so breathtaken just about now, but he does. it's paul's home, the same way that, if there was anything left of libero, despite its hostility, he'd still want to show paul the streets he grew up in. ]

Is your house far?

[ he almost wants to start looking about with a little more added detail. paul was a nobleman, from a noble family— that had been one of the very first things he learned about him, as he stitched a wound on his leg closed. ]

[A geography lesson. Paul smiles broadly, straightening up a bit without dislodging Falco, and points southeast. He doesn't have to look to the stars to get his bearings, but he does anyway, marking the shepherd stars.]

It's about two hours that way by sail. This is an uninhabited island. It's kept that way to preserve the biosphere. Did you know islands have some of the most unique life on any worlds? It's because they're isolated. Everything on them that can't swim or fly far enough to reach another shore evolves within the confines of one patch of land.

There's no buildings here, but there are four species of lark that you can't find anywhere else on the whole planet.

[This is information that Falco will obviously find as compelling and wonderful as Paul does.]

This is as much my home as my house is. All of Caladan is. [His smile tips, goes lightly wistful.] This is where my salt is from.

[A Mariana thought on a world the Pthumerian has never tread. Paul wonders if any part of him is still made up of the atoms of this world, if the transmutation of Trench summoned them with his body and his soul, or if every part of him is newly fashioned of alien particles.]

[ if he doesn’t find geographical biology magnificent, much less from the land of which paul came, falco was not an atreides.

he’s only studied paradis island in passing, and clearly not enough about it to be common knowledge. this is a first-time absorption. luckily, and more thanks to a communal kinship and likeness, falco listens and awes inside himself (outside too, just look how his eyes glisten while peering upward), just as if he’s discovered another world. well, they’re not far off that thought.

so similar— why were earths and some planets so similar? ]

The sea water is salty here, too?

[ he’d like to know why, some day— what that man told them when they were out at the mediterranean border was that the ocean water was salty because he, and many many others, had peed in it. it doesn’t stick anymore, neither does he want it to. ]

[Count on Falco to bolster Paul's spirits with attentiveness. It's one of the reasons they've formed the sort of bond they have; they know the power of bestowing your full, undivided concentration on anything, and how simultaneous it is with love.]

It is.

[Paul drops his hand to his lap, catching the edge of further curiosity in Falco's question.]

It has to be on most planets people live on. We need salt to live, and any planet with salts in its crust will have them seep into their oceans. Funny that we can't drink sea water, then, don't you think?

[He could keep going, delving sideways into a description of the human filtration system (of no doubt closer pertinence to the young healer than geography alone) and its delicacy, but the sounds of approaching footfalls stops him short. He draws himself up, but makes no move to part from Falco. Watching the place his father will emerge, he says, softly:]

Here we are.

[ it would have surely led to a small ramble on falco’s part of what he knew about hemodynamics in its most simplified form, but his focus is drawn elsewhere, to a space that suddenly begins to bubble up that same, expecting cloud of giddy anticipation all the way in his core (despite the figure having yet to emerge). ]

Should— Could I say hello?

[ would he say so back, or would he be a ghost by paul’s side? ]

That's what you're here for.

[The shy warmth of the request is all that could draw him away from his watch on the woods, so it is that this time Paul has to glance back at the man blinking at the edge of the firelight's circle.

Duke Leto is a little younger than he was the last time Paul saw him in his true, waking life, with a touch less grey in his beard, but he is otherwise exactly as he was. He adjusts the strap of the satchel over his shoulder and smiles gently, even if there's a trace of surprise in it, at the young boy seated next to his son.]

Hello. Where did you come from?

I invited him here, sir. [Paul slides in to answer smoothly, sparing Falco fumbling for a response.] This is Falco Grice. Falco, this is my father. Duke Leto Atreides.

Edited 2022-12-28 06:18 (UTC)

[ he not only felt important, he was important, starting with the simple fact that duke leto atreides was paul’s father. sensitivity to being flustered causes silence in falco, not at all having the proper time to really prepare (and he wouldn’t have been able to, anyway). what he could do is buy his gaping lips some time with a curt bow of his head, soon after considering that it might be more respectful to stand.

when he does, he cannot help but to stand upright as a soldier would. he wants to make a good impression, but despite his at-ready posture and too polite wording, ]

It’s— an honor to meet you, sir.

[ coupled with that awfully awkward crack his voice sounds off at it’s and lowers from there, he just looks all the more boyish underneath. ]

Likewise, I'm sure. [The duke says, kindly and without condescension.] At ease, Falco Grice.

[It's a casually quiet set of words, but given with a voice that knows command well. Leto recognized Falco's stance at once, the way that Paul would have expected him to, and he follows the gentle order by sitting on a log perpendicular to the one Paul and Falco have claimed so as to lead by example.]

How do you feel about fish? We have some fresh caught today.

[As if it's the most natural thing in the world to be joined at a fireside by a strange young teenager, Leto starts to unwrap the packet of fish he brought with him. Paul lets out a soft sigh of relief, and if Falco has found his way back to the log beside him, he'll offer the boy another reassuring nudge and a quietly whispered:]

Good work.

[ he's proud of himself! proud that he's gotten such recognition, that paul has thought his efforts worthy enough of praise— falco's chest may have puffed up just and inch, following a retained smile as he finds his way back to the log to sit with his brother. paul? a tiny thumb pokes up from the side of his lap as he bumps the elder boy's arm with his own. yes . . . his mission has been well accomplished. he's made a good first impression on the daddy. 👍. ]

I love fish. [ he could love just about anything that gives him sustenance, but fish, as trench keeping it high on the menu throughout the seasons, was a special dish. ] I can do anything you need to help prepare them.

Edited 2023-01-06 21:03 (UTC)

They're already clean. All we need to do is keep them over the heat. Paul will show you.

[ Leto's air of authority softens to something more paternal than regimental. Paul knows his father has surely noticed Falco's puff of pride, and that it's the sort of thing his father finds endearing as a reaction.

After all, Paul used to do it all the time.

Leto spears the fish through deftly after he's removed his gloves, his signet ring glinting in the firelight as he does so. He offers the end of a skewer made of silver, strong wire to both boys. When Paul takes his, he does as instructed, rotating the small, nearly whole fish (two to a skewer) over the flames at a modest height. ]

You want them to end up a little darker than golden. That's how I like them, anyway.

[ Paul tells Falco, quietly, and he wonders at how naturally Falco seems to fit here between himself and his father. The woods are filling with the savoury smell of cooking seafood, mingling more pleasantly than might be expected with the damp forest around them. ]

Then we eat them with flatbread and sauce. Fisherman's lunch. It's supposed to make you impervious to the cold.

i know that the sun is here with me | december catch-all

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject