deercountry | let me look at the sun

Caladan, year 10191. The day before the first wing went to Arrakis.

[Paul knows it won't mean anything to her, says it more for himself.]

I'm Paul. And you're- [Taller than he is, for one thing, and strong. Striking golden eyes and a shock of red hair. He almost feels like he should be able to place her, but it eludes him.] -welcome here, for whatever that's worth. There's nothing dangerous on this island, but I wouldn't go swimming.

[He straightens up, flicking water from his hand.] Is it all right if we stay here for a while? I don't want to waste your time.

[ Yeah, that doesn't mean much, except to indicate that this place isn't part of the Nine Houses. That makes sense -- it's too nice of a place. ]

Don't worry, wasn't planning on it. [ And then, because that sounded a little harsh: ] Thanks.

[ That's as good of an invitation as any. Gideon takes a moment to size Paul up. Necromancer's stature, which means this dude is not a threat whatsoever, or could completely and utterly kick her ass. No in-between. Gideon doesn't have her sword on her, here, but she'll take those odds. She joins him by the water's edge, gathering some wet sand up into her hands and molding it into a little ball. ]

It's all right. This place has much better vibes than, say, a bone arts-and-crafts session. Besides, I don't think I've ever been on an actual island before. [ so that's pretty cool! ] I'm Gideon.

It's a good island to be your first one. Even if it isn't.

[Paul is oddly pleased by her (admittedly if only by comparison) praise of his planet, even though it has nothing to do with him except being spawned from his memories. He doesn't mistake her casual brusqueness for unfriendliness - he's used to spending his time around soldiers and warriors, and if anything it works in her favor.

Something that might be telling about at least his personal confidence in his abilities is that he seems completely at ease with her coming closer. (Of course, he could also just be someone who doesn't assess every new acquaintance as a threat, but who does that? People with abruptly shortened lifespans, for one thing.)]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Gideon. Can I get you anything to drink? Hot chocolate? Tea? Spice coffee? Or something to eat?

[It's not immediately obvious from where on this empty beach, but he is being serious.]

[ Paul offers her food and drink like this place is his home, and then it all clicks into place: oh, shit, it probably is. Gideon wouldn't be surprised if he's homesick for a planet like this. She feels a little bad for him, honestly: it must suck to be ripped from your home and dumped into Spooky Town.

Gideon does not say any of this out loud, however, because that requires a level of emotional intimacy that Gideon barely knows how to deal with! So, instead: ]

Oh, shit, you can make chocolate hot? [ Gideon always assumed it only came in those little bars. ] Hell yeah, sign me up. [ And then, because Gideon is not entirely accustomed to relationships that aren't transactional: ] I'd, uh, offer you snacks to go with it, but I am very tragically snack-free, which is one hundred percent my bad. But if we ever do make it out of here, I can totally lift some heavy stuff for you, or beat up one of your mortal enemies, or whatever.

[ seriously, how bad could this guy's mortal enemies even be? ]

[Bad enough Paul would owe her at least two hot chocolates, minimum. He does smile a little at the offer, just barely reaching his eyes.]

You're a guest. [It's his duty as host to provide twice over - because she's on his planet and she's in his memory. So Paul turns around, back to the water, and looks at a patch of sand with his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. A small, dark wooden table with two black thermoses on top rises slowly from the spot, and he lets out a soft breath when it's fully emerged. It's an easier trick than most of the things he's been figuring out how to do in these memories, but it's still new.]

Help yourself. [He nods at the thermoses.] There is something I'd like to ask you. But first-

[Something massive and metallic begins to crest from the water a few miles away, the humming's source revealed, and Paul turns to watch it rise. Torrents of water pour from its flat surface, the edges of the ship obscured briefly in its own spray. It's almost like a strange mirror of Paul's little table summoning act.]

That's the carrier.

[ Gideon isn't sure what she expected -- probably that Paul had a house around here, or something? Summoning food out of sand is definitely not it, though. She exhales, impressed, and under her breath whispers: ]

What the fuck.

[ The thermos doesn't disintegrate into grains of sand when she picks it up, which is all the more impressive. It's like he conjured the thing out of thin air. That should be impossible, as far as Gideon knows. Then again, this is probably all Nerd Stuff, so, like, whatever. If the chocolate tastes good, then it's good.

Then, as if things could not get any weirder, a giant wet spaceship shows up! Gideon just. Stares at it. Looks back at Paul. Back to the spaceship. ]

Is that -- yours?

[ Again: what the fuck. ]

[Paul has gotten used to the people he's met so far treating anything unusual as, well, usual to the point it didn't occur to him that Gideon might not have been anticipating 'magic memory hot chocolate' or 'giant wet spaceship'.

(He doesn't precisely know what 'what the fuck' means, but he can catch the gist of it.)]

I- yes, I'm sorry, I should have- [His odd, quiet graveness is replaced with a flustered teenage awkwardness as he ducks his head, looking at a particularly interesting rock for a moment.] I can't usually do that.

[Not an explanation.] It's a blood magic trick for memories, so- I should have warned you. I apologize.

And it's not my ship. It's House Atreides'. [And in this moment, that means it's still his father's ship.] So is the planet, at least for now. They're getting ready to leave for Arrakis, which is their new planet, granted by the Emperor's decree. They have to surface to load the 'thopters - that's a type of flying machine - before they leave.

[Caladanin hot chocolate does taste good, depending on your taste. It's lightly spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and a trace of cayenne, thick and rich. Paul hopes it makes up for his rudeness.]

[ Oh, no, is he shy? Gideon grins, which he'll hopefully take as a sign of reassurance. ]

Nah, nah, it's cool. You couldn't have known I'm from a place with way smaller ships and only bone magic. Summoning food is way more useful, I wish we could do that instead.

[ Speaking of which: Gideon takes a sip of the hot chocolate, which is indeed hot, and therefore vastly exceeds all of her culinary expectations! It slaps! She closes her eyes, takes another sip, and then lets out a happy little sigh.

Gideon keeps listening to Paul through her little Moment with the hot chocolate. So they've got more flying machines than the big one? And hot food? These people must be loaded. No wonder Paul's homesick. Anyone else would be a little bummed for the nice kid who gave them a delicious hot beverage, but Gideon sees an opportunity to have some fun. (Frankly, this guy looks like he needs it.) ]

Oh, yeah? Does that mean we could, like, fly on one?

[ Come on, dude, wouldn't that be so fun! More fun than beach brooding, at least?? ]

[The look the pale rice cracker of a boy gives her, the look of someone immediately thinking about the various ways they might get in trouble, suggests that in spite of the fact he can alter the world around them, is in the comfort of his own mental home, and is sixteen, the concept of using any of this to have 'fun' hasn't occurred to him for so much as a second.]

...I think so?

[They probably could, he realizes, if he pushes the end of the memory. And flight practice wouldn't be a bad thing. It gives Paul something to offer in exchange for walking through a memory he thinks will otherwise be fairly dull for her.]

Yes. I'll take you up in one, if the memory holds together. [He nods, picking up his own thermos but leaving it unopened. He appreciates that she liked it, appreciates the grin, even if he still isn't sure how to talk to girls he meets in his mental landscape. (This isn't like Chani. Whenever he sees her, he's terrified. Gideon is only intimidating. But still.)] We have to go up to the cemetery first, but it won't take long.

[And then, as the background processing he's been doing reaches a conclusion (bone arts and crafts sounded like Winter Mournings, but bone magic in general, well):] Are you from the Ninth House?

[Palamedes mentioned they might be around, although...this is not exactly the dusty scholar Paul had been picturing. Maybe bone magic is a more muscular art than spiritism.]

[ The fact that Paul hasn't once considered messing around in the hallucination, and instead prioritizes visiting graves, reminds Gideon deeply of Harrow. Paul may not be a necromancer, but he has very strong necromancer energy. It's almost endearing. (It probably means he shouldn't be left alone for a long period of time, lest he blow up a building or do something similarly ridiculous.) ]

Sweet. Let's go.

[ And, oh, he knows roughly who she is, even without the paint! Neat. Gideon will take this as an indication that, in Trench, she's becoming really cool and popular. ]

Yeah, how'd you know? I'm guessing you haven't met Harrow, she'd probably have let me know if you had.

[ Most likely to warn Gideon about another one-sided magician rivalry, but, you know. That's just how Harrow rolls. ]

[Finally, to Paul's mingled embarrassment and alarm, it clicks: the woman flexing at the dinner table next to the small, sour-faced one. Harrow, presumably. And he should have recognized her, had said he would, and he didn't.]

I've met Warden Palamedes. He told me a little about you. Only good things. [Paul walks towards a narrow trail rising from the beach as the rising vessel finally fully clears the water and the first surge waves begin to lap higher on the sand.] I'm glad we finally met.

[It's not fair to her to hide the things he's aware of, if only in the broadest details, from Palamedes' memory. It's not possible to tell her any of them and risk hurting her, even if he doesn't know if any of them happened to her - as he told Palamedes, that's worse, and Paul can't betray his trust either.

He thinks Gideon's the first real person he's seen in any of these memories, their own or his, who's seemed anything other than miserable in one way or another. He's not taking that away so he can feel less guilty. (For Paul, acknowledging to himself who Gideon reminds him of, with her easy confident charm and strong shoulders in the context of this memory, is something he isn't prepared to do.)]

It'll make the explanation easier. [There's just enough room on the trail to walk side by side, and Paul takes the outside edge.] I'd like to try to integrate you into the memory with magic as someone who belongs here, if you'll let me. I haven't tried it yet, but it's safe for you.

[ Oh, that makes sense. Paul does look like the type of person to get along well with the Sixth. Gideon grins again -- any friend of Palamedes is (probably) a friend of hers. The whole Lyctor thing wasn't really his fault; his judgment about people is probably better otherwise.

Warden Palamedes is an oddly formal-plus-informal way to refer to him, though. Gideon doesn't laugh, mostly because Paul sounds so earnest about it and she's not that much of a dick, but she does keep grinning broadly, absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. ]

Oh, nice! Cool to meet you, too. Are you also into books and stuff, then?

[ Yeah, Harrow will definitely think of Paul as another rival, which Gideon finds hilarious. Gideon, meanwhile, follows Paul along the path, looking alternately back at the sea and up at that huge sky. It's so different from the dull, dead pit that is the Ninth House, or the ruined citadel of the First.

She nods at Paul's plan, happy enough to go along if it means she gets to board a cool memory spaceship. ] Yeah, sure, that works. I'm used to being a fighter for the Ninth, just make me one for this place.

[ Belatedly, Gideon wonders if they even fight with swords here. Their spaceships are so different, after all. It would make sense that their weapons would be, too. Gideon can't imagine what else they'd use, though. Guns? How archaic. Swords that are also guns? That could be pretty sweet. ]

Edited (repitition) 2021-12-16 05:56 (UTC)

[Paul can't help it. She's infectious. He smiles back, an amused half-slant of his mouth.]

I am into books 'and stuff', yes. [He says it not like he's mocking her, but like he's never heard the expression before, and wants to turn it over in his mouth himself.] Thank you. Here.

[He produces a water polished smooth stone from his pocket and passes it to her, marked with a smear of blood: he had it ready before she got here. He had hoped it would be someone who could seem reasonable as a fighter for the House, as a matter of fact, but something about Gideon's lightness makes him entertain the brief and ridiculous thought of passing her off as a mentat.]

You're one of my bodyguards, so you don't have to do much except follow me. There isn't going to be anything you have to protect me from. [Below, the beach is being flooded with wave after wave. A flock of dark winged birds swarm down to dive into the troughs between them for stunned fish.] You can call the Duke 'my lord' or 'your grace', but he prefers 'my lord' with people from the House.

[Observant minds might notice that up until this point, there has been no mention of 'meeting a Duke' on the itinerary. Paul says it very casually, so perhaps that means it's not anything to worry about.]

You're not what I expected. [Clearly, nothing to worry about, if he shifts subjects so smoothly.] Not in a bad way. Is it impolite to ask if you're the necromancer or the cavalier?

[ Oh, and there's a little smile! Gideon's glad to see it. Paul's polite quiet (not to mention the skinny stature and dark hair) reminds her of Harrowhark in public, which means Gideon is taking that small smile as a victory.

She takes the bloodied stone, studies it for a moment, and then shrugs, slipping it into her pocket. Seems legit. Bodyguard works, so Gideon slows her pace to a half-step behind Paul's, typical for a cavalier of the Nine Houses. The familiarity is honestly kind of nice, especially in this strange memory. Gideon is definitely much better at this than being a mentat -- she can probably count on one hand the number of times she's had to do any math at all. ]

Sounds good to me -- [ night boss is Harrowhark, so instead: ] -- beach boss. Are you my lord too? [ Gideon is not especially intimidated by the idea of meeting a Duke -- her friends are heads of Houses in their own right, so she's almost used to it. If Gideon does startle a little at the title, it's only because where she's from, that's a Seventh term. Dukes and Duchesses of Rhodes. But Paul doesn't strike her as especially Seventh, thankfully. Nothing like Cytherea, with her little laughs and fucked-up eyes.

At not what I expected Gideon stands up a little straighter, clearly proud of herself, for some reason. ] It's not rude, but I wouldn't go asking people that, only because it'll make you look kind of dumb. No offense. [ not his fault he's not from the Nine Houses! ] Necromancers are always super frail and skinny. I'm one hundred percent not -- [ Gideon flexes a bicep, for good measure ] -- which means I'm the cavalier. You're not wrong, though, 'cause Ninth House cavs typically spend their days hauling around bones and whatever. That's not me, though. I'm the best swordswoman in my House.

[ Yeah, the competition isn't stiff, but that doesn't matter! ]

[Paul, to his own amazement, laughs. It's not a very good one, and he tries to stop it halfway, so it comes out sounding more like one of the seabirds squawking below. But it is a laugh. He's never met anyone who talks like this, and with no preconceptions to draw on he infers from the the novel way she combines words that Gideon is clever as well as strong.

It feels far too easy to have her a half-step behind, making jokes no one else would dare make. If this is what a cavalier is, Paul thinks - and then he doesn't.]

Then I'm twice honored, meeting the swordsmaster of the Ninth and their cavalier in the same day. [He believes her when she says she's the best, his look at her bicep when she flexes suitably impressed.] Thank you for unburdening me of my ignorance.

And you don't have to call me my lord. [Which is a sideways way of saying yes, as if he doesn't want to be direct.] Or beach boss. I wouldn't want to have to challenge the gulls here for it, they're too fat.

[ That, too, is very Harrowhark-esque: a laugh that doesn't really sound like one, but at least it's there. To be fair, Gideon has only heard Harrow laugh once, and that was right before --

-- best not. They're going to see a ship! That's super cool. ]

No prob, dude.

[ Okay, he is a lord. Good to know! Gideon does not anticipate using the title unless she has to, in order to board the ship. She's long since checked her pride at the Ninth House, a little my lords here and there don't bother her at all. She's not quite sure what a gull is, though, although a brief and dizzying look off the cliff's edge suggests that they're those birds? They make an awful lot of noise, especially for someone who is not at all used to birds. ]

Mmm, right. Sounds incredibly dangerous indeed. [ Said in mock-seriousness. She's onto you, weird little birds!! ]

[Paul catches the look of someone who doesn't know what he's talking about. It's one he saw on Arrakis often, whenever he mentioned anything to do with the ways of a world rich in water.]

They're more dangerous than they look. [A real-serious warning, delivered with a nod down at the wheeling birds.] Serrated beaks and poisoned spurs. Every three months we have to come down with spear-guns and clear them out to keep them from making off with livestock and children.

[He's still holding the thermos in his hand, unopened, so he opens it and takes a sip. His has more pepper, the way his favorite cook used to make it for him, and with the west-wind in his hair and the cool air of Caladan on his face - he can pretend. Just for a while.]

You should see some of the scars. They like to go for the eyes.

[ Get used to it, Paul, because Gideon does not know what she's talking about like 75% of the time.

At that absolutely Insane Wildlife Fact, Gideon just nods. ] Okay. Don't fuck with the baby-eating birds. Got it. [ The eyes?? Yikes. ] Ugh, I have the best tinted glasses back in Trench. Should've brought them here. Guess I can't be one of your bird-fighters, too.

[ So it goes! And then, so Paul doesn't think she's a complete idiot for not knowing how birds work: ] The Ninth doesn't have any of this stuff. The castle's deep down, close to the planet's core, and we've gotta pump in the atmosphere ourselves. [ Which means: no birds. Or any kind of wildlife, really. Just skeletons! ]

[That would rule out fish as well, which are what Paul thinks of as they crest the cliff, finally. He thinks of fish and the old proverb about their word for water, how he never realized how truly rich his planet was until he went to a world that was everything Caladan is not. What would it be like to grow up huddled by your planet's heart, your most precious resource oxygen instead of water?]

That's all right about the glasses. None of that was true. [Paul glances back at her with a trace of apology, eyes shaded by dark lashes.] They do smell terrible.

[From here, a jutting spur of land is visible, a cluster of black veiled figures standing at its base. Dark stone tombs dot the winter-yellowed grass slope, the resting place of the honored Atreides dead. There's another figure in black farther away, crouched by one of the tombs, almost invisible at this distance.

Paul stops. He screws the top of his thermos back on and sets it down, leaning against a stone. He straightens his coat, thumbs running along his collar, and brushes unruly hair from his face. He seems calm, perfectly so, and if he's pale, he's always pale.]

How do I look?

[It's a reflexive question, on the tip of his tongue before he can think of the absurdity. Gideon isn't going to be able to tell him if he looks different, she's never seen him before.]

[ King Undying, of course the birds don't eat babies. Gideon isn't even mad -- this is a level of stupidity she can get behind -- but she does give Paul a little shove, laughing at the same time. ]

Okay, beach boss. [ Said sarcastically, now truly a joke.

And oh, hm, there's someone in the distance and Paul seems to suddenly care about what he looks like. Gideon, meanwhile, is more taken by the graveyard. The Ninth, who boil their skeletons and send them out to work, don't bury their dead like this. She's lived nearly all her life in a grave, but never seen a graveyard.

She looks back to Paul, bright golden eyes carefully assessing. ]

A little bit like one of our skeletons, actually. [ she's obviously being sarcastic -- that's payback for the birds, paul!!

Genuine, this time: ] Kidding. You look fine. [ All the heirs of the Nine Houses are super skinny and some degree of brood-y, so. ] Good enough for the Duke, if you ask me.

[Paul rocks back slightly with the shove, which earns Gideon a startled look that makes him seem his actual age. It's not an unwelcome shove or one he reads as a threat, but this is simply not a thing that is done. Strangers don't touch him without permission.

And yet: he doesn't mind. He's only surprised. (And what does it matter? Who would care if she shoved him off this cliff and sent him tumbling onto the rocks? The gulls do go for the eyes, when it's easy.) So he lets it go, blinking away the look and returning to a slight smile.]

I'm sure the skeletons of the Ninth House are very handsome. [He adjusts his coat again, although nothing has changed. Everything is correct, as it should be, his skin unblemished and unbruised.] All right. This won't take long.

[He feels as though he's said that already. It doesn't matter. They can't stay here. So he starts walking again, shoulders at ease, hands open, stride sure and unhastened.]

[ Gideon has long since realized that this guy can be kind of....tense, although she didn't really anticipate it to be that bad. Oh, well. He doesn't seem especially angry, so Gideon doesn't register the look much beyond feeling a little sorry for him. ]

They sure are. You should see my friend, Dr. Skelebone.

[ And with that, Gideon fixes her robes a bit and nods, following Paul. She slips back into that half-step behind him, and this time, her face takes on the expression of perfect Ninth calm. The whole experience is not unlike her "vow of silence" at Canaan House, and Gideon is once again comforted by the fact that, as strange as this planet may be, there's so much about it that's familiar. (Hopefully not too familiar, though. Ideally, there will be no murders here.) Gideon trails Paul noiselessly, like a tall, dark shadow. ]

[That does wring another faint smile from Paul, one he angles his face to make visible to her. He still has his manners. But he doesn't say anything more as he faces forward again.

They pass by where the veiled figures stand, watching them go by impassively. The house mourners are attentive to their duties, if nothing else. The farthest figure turns, raises an arm in greeting, and Paul takes a sharp breath as they walk past the first tomb. He pays them no attention, but if Gideon does she'll see each is carved with an individual scene, stylized depictions of heroes battling men and beast, seated on thrones, commanding armies.

The figure straightens up and walks to meet them. His features come into focus, a handsome older man with grey shot through his full dark hair and beard. Where Paul is tense, he is at ease, his smile warm as he approaches. The Duke Leto Atreides, first of his name; Leto the Just, the good lord of Caladan; Leto, Paul's father.

Paul knows his father is dead. Beyond the fact no other possibility exists, he knows it, a certainty that is cold and clear inside of him.

But he doesn't believe it. He's never going to believe it. He's going to spend the rest of his life waiting for someone to tell him there's been a terrible mistake, waiting to turn around and see him walking towards him again like this.]

Paul [says his father, and there must have been something Paul missed in himself, because his father's eyes crease at the corners as they search his face on his approach] Came to say goodbye to the old bull, eh?

[Then his gaze shifts to Gideon, his smile turning to the grin of an old commander:] Gideon! Getting him into trouble, I hope?

[While his memory talks to Gideon, Paul does - nothing. He stands there, watching his father with his face barely guarded, drinking in every gesture and word like water, like air. He doesn't think, doesn't have space for anything but this, doesn't let in anything but this.]

[ The mourners could be sisters of the Tomb, if only they'd painted their faces. Gideon doesn't spend much time looking at them, but she does catch the carvings on the graves. They suggest generations of history and wealth -- a traditionalism that is very nearly Fifth. Harrow might give these dead the blessings of the Tomb, but those were never really Gideon's prayers. Besides, on the Ninth, silence is respect enough.

Gideon expects the Duke to be much like Paul -- quiet, polite, tense. She does not anticipate the smile, the gentleness, the welcome. The family resemblance. This is Paul's father, and he reminds her so much of the only other true father she's ever met.

Magnus never got to be this old, Gideon thinks, and then pushes that idea aside before she can recall the image of a crumpled-up body at the base of a ladder. There's a moment -- and Paul might catch it, if he's paying attention -- where Gideon's mellow completely evaporates, and she stands there shocked, like she's just seen a ghost. But she catches herself, and it passes. She gives the Duke a polite nod, and a smile in return. ]

You know it, my lord. [ Gideon grips that thermos like a raft in the middle of the sea. She can practically hear Harrowhark chiding her -- come on, Griddle, think of something. This was so much easier when she could just fake a vow of silence. ] Those gulls never stood a chance.

[ There! That probably makes sense, maybe? Gideon's knowledge of what typically goes down on this planet is limited to weird birds and hot drinks, so it'll have to do. ]

[The duke laughs from his belly, delighted amusement dancing in his eyes. He steps closer to Gideon and claps her firmly on the shoulder, looking up at her - he's slightly shorter than Paul, and distinctly shorter than Gideon, but his command of presence is such that it somehow hardly seems that way.]

You do House Atreides proud, protecting our tender youth and meager sheep from - what was it again?. [He turns to Paul, teasing and fond.] Saws for beaks, poison claws? Worth a medal, anyway. I'll have it commissioned. A gull, rampant on vermillion!

[Paul catches Gideon's look because it echoes the one he's striving to keep off his face. He'd stood on that beach for however long, imagining what would happen. How he would react, what he would say, how he would sift this memory for every precious scrap of what he could take from it. He didn't imagine this; should have, but was too lost to see it.

The duke leans towards Gideon, voice a conspicuously loud whisper:]

Did Paul tell you about the boat?

[Paul hunches his shoulder towards his ears, a flush appearing at their tips as he ducks his head in embarrassment, and of all the things he thought he'd say to his dead father he starts with the soft, flustered protest of:]

Dad.

[Leto smiles wider, looking back to Gideon with his eyebrows raised in invitation to ask. Paul watches them with eyes shining too bright, love a crushing weight on his chest he hopes pins him here forever.]

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