deercountry | let me look at the sun

Entry tags:

let me look at the sun | open

Who: Paul Atreides, open
What: Event catch-all
When: Month of December
Where: Archaic Archives, streets of Trench, the forest's edge, memories
Notes: Go ahead and contact me at

terriblepurpose or by PM if you'd like to discuss any starters or suggest new ones! For tagging in your character's memories to Paul, feel free to start with whatever your preference is.

Content Warnings: Violence, body horror (lockjoint), death, religious extremism, extensive Dune spoilers, suicidal ideation, funerals, grief

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The shoulder clasp, Gideon thinks, hurts worse than a punch to her gut. There is a part of her that knows she doesn't deserve this -- that if she were really Paul's bodyguard, she would have let him and his father die. That's what she does. That's what she's always done, since she was a child. Priamhark. Pelleamena. Mortus. Magnus. Abigail. Isaac. Jeannemary. Palamedes.

If she were any less a daughter of the Ninth, Gideon would flinch. Instead, she follows the Duke's gaze towards Paul, who seems to need this, badly. Gideon can't put together why, right now, but she can help him the best she can. (She can focus on that, and not on how the way he says Dad reminds her of how Isaac Tettares used to say Maaaagnus.)

She leans back towards the Duke, shaking her head no. ]

He didn't, my lord. What, uh, happened?

Edited 2021-12-18 19:43 (UTC)

Oh, it's a heroic tale. [the duke assures Gideon, releasing her shoulder] Paul's being modest. Let's see - Paul was five, so it was about eight or nine years ago -

Eleven.

[Leto pauses, bringing a hand to his beard as he thinks:] Was it?

[As Gideon well knows, much of the dynamic of teasing is in how things are said, not so much what. This apparently spontaneous exchange has the well-worn air of being part of a rhythm, and Leto's tone is nothing but affectionate. Paul's hunched shoulders are part of that rhythm too, the embarrassment half-feigned, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up unless he keeps his lips pursed and looks down at a clod of fascinating dirt.]

You know how old I am.

You have gotten taller. [Leto makes a small 'hmm' of a sound.] About the same amount of hair, even back then.

About eleven years ago, Paul wanted nothing more than to have his very own boat. Not a big boat, as he insisted on making clear, but a little toy boat, with white sails. His mother, being a wiser woman than I, used the promise of this little toy boat to entice Paul to behave himself at an upcoming banquet she was throwing for every Atreides cousin, kinsman, and out-freyn relation in the galaxy. Wretched people, half of them. I think she worried you'd tell them that.

Now, at first, everything went as planned. The boat is presented on the morning of, and Paul spends the day sailing it on the koi pond. The banquet begins, we bring him out to make his introductions - very properly -

She said she'd take the boat away if I didn't. [Paul remembers having been offended by that. He'd gotten his end of the bargain, he wasn't about to not follow through.]

As I said. Wiser woman than I. So! The thing is done, and we send him off to bed with two bodyguards and a nursemaid. And do I think anything of it? Of course not! I have larger concerns on my mind, including finding a moment's peace.

I steal away to my study about halfway through the night, after enough of them have become sufficiently drunk - only to take my one moment, of course - and what do I find? My son, soaking wet in his nightclothes, working at the lock on my weapons cabinet.

Gideon doesn't care about -

[Leto waves a hand in acknowledgment, gives Gideon a sly look; Paul fidgets, half-proud, half-annoyed, all raw open nerves:] He turns around, not an ounce of shame on his face, and tells me he needs my spear-gun, because he has to attend to a matter of honor. And tell me, Gideon - who do you think my five year old son was feuding with?

[ Gideon listens, wincing appropriately at the concept of a dinner party. Based on Gideon's sample size of one, those can and do end horribly. This one doesn't seem to involve murder, though, so: win! It's a bit more difficult for her to picture a toy boat or koi pond -- she's got no clue what the latter is, and assumes from context that the former is some kind of miniature boat?

It's much easier for Gideon to focus on trying to piece this story together than the relationship before her -- a loving father, an embarrassed son. She focuses mostly on the Duke -- he's the one telling the story, after all -- but occasionally she'll steal a look back towards Paul, fidgeting and carefully studying the dirt. He's even harder to follow than the story. Why the embarrassment? Doesn't he see how lucky he is?

As the story wears on, Gideon relaxes little by little. The image of a soaking wet five-year-old trying to pick a lock is pretty funny, and so Gideon smiles back, genuine this time. ]

...The birds, my lord? [ He probably wouldn't try to shoot a guest, and Gideon has no idea what a koi is, so that leaves the gulls. Trying to bail Paul out a little, she adds: ] If one of them had stolen my boat, I'd have done the same.

[ Gideon has, in her life, raided the Ninth House weapons cache to make Harrow pay for like, stealing her food and whatnot. As a child, Harrow was about the size and weight of a large bird, it totally counts. ]

That's right.

[Leto is thoroughly pleased by Gideon's engagement, another light touch on her shoulder to signal so. He always made it look so natural, Paul thinks, the effortless way he folded people in. So much so that between him and Gideon, both drawing him out of himself, he can't help but step into the story on his cue. And he is shy, Gideon right about him the first time, at least about this.]

It wasn't about the boat. They ate my myrmidons.

They were shrimp. Raw shrimp.

They needed to be armored, and if they were cooked they couldn't be myrmidons -

- and you snuck out past all of House Atreides' security -

- so did you -

I had to see these terror-birds myself, and how you'd gotten all the way down to the beach - all the way to the beach, Gideon!

We brought a net instead. You said we had to catch them, that any birds so wicked had to be agents of our enemies. [Paul closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head, his smile a fragile, soft thing.] You gave me your coat. I kept tripping on it. We didn't catch one, we just - ran up and down the beach. Until mom caught us.

She'd already reduced my head of security to near tears. [Leto steps to his son, rests a hand on his shoulder.] She was proud of you, of course - I think you got another boat out of it, didn't you? - but I didn't hear the end of it for months.

[Leto's eyes are gentle as he searches Paul's face, gently digging his thumb into a knot of tension:] It was worth it.

Now, let's walk, and we'll see if you want to tell me why you really came up here.

[He very much means you too, Gideon, if his warm but undeceived sideways glance is anything to go by. Leto is the patriarch of his house, and that makes every member of it, in a way, his family, at least as far as he reckons such things. If Gideon is going to come stand in his cemetery and look as lost as she did, he's going to take an interest. He releases Paul's shoulder after a firm squeeze, and Paul is nearly clumsy in his quickness to keep up with him as he starts strolling towards the edge of the cliff. But he's not as wretched anymore, something in him soothed and eased as it always is by his father. (Always was, the little poison dart of knowledge, but he can ignore it.)]

[ Gideon has a hard time squaring up raw shrimp and myrmidon and toy boat, but she follows the story well enough. At the mental image of a very small Paul, who cannot weigh more than like fifty pounds, running out to the beach, Gideon snorts. ] But five year olds aren't even that fast. [ Seriously, who are the Atreides hiring as their guards?

Eventually, before she can realize what's happening, Gideon is enjoying herself. It's not quite like they're old friends -- this place is far too strange for that -- but the Duke is warm, and merry, and even Paul is smiling, and for a moment Gideon can pretend she grew up on a planet as rich as this one. It's rather nice. ]

It sounds like a lot of fun. [ She means it. ]

[ The story ends, like all good comics do, and Gideon freezes momentarily at the Duke's glance, worried that she's been found out, her cover blown. She can't say that, though, so instead she follows, once again a half step behind. That, at least, isn't something she's faking. She'll try to catch up to Paul, hoping that she can shoot him a look that plainly reads: what the fuck do we do now? ]

[Paul does catch the look, although it seems to take effort for him to look back at Gideon. Her confusion confuses him, at first, but then he is reminded - as he is always being reminded - that no one in this place knows him. None of this is real. Gideon is not House Atreides, has no reason to trust him, his father is-]

It was. And as for fast - it turns out you don't need to be when you time out a security hole you neglected to mention when you noticed it, because 'it only worked from the inside'.

[-looking at him like he always used to, when he could tell something was wrong. Paul could lie to him about some things, but never about that. Leto always knew, some sense as subtle as anything Paul's mother ever taught him able to perceive it no matter what Paul tried. He remembers it perfectly, like he remembers too many things perfectly, and so it turns out that what Paul is doing to do, Gideon, is tell the truth:]

I was going to ask you to let me go to Arrakis, with Duncan. I had it worked out. [He looks at the ground in front of them, his hair falling around his eyes.] I knew you'd say no.

Paul-

[Leto's tone is one of immense sympathy, but Paul pushes past it. He can't stop. If he stops he's never going to be able to start again; he keeps going, his voice soft, thoughtful, aching.]

Wait. Please- [and now, a small glance at Gideon, a plea for her patience, her unearned trust extended only on grace] -let me finish.

[ Every fiber in Gideon's body is crying out to make a security hole joke. Miraculously, however, even Gideon realizes this might be a bad idea. Because Paul starts talking, and there's a weight to his words that suggests that he is going to say something brutal, instead of taking the preferred Ninth House route of not saying anything at all.

I knew you'd say no, Paul says, and there's a split second where Gideon considers stopping Paul there. They are getting dangerously close to family drama territory here, and that's not something that Gideon is especially good at dealing with! She's close enough to butt in and say ha, ha, Paul's just guessing, he doesn't really know, also we're going to go hijack one of your ships okay cool bye.

But then Paul looks back, and Gideon meets his eyes, and any resistance evaporates. That look -- maybe she recognizes it. Maybe she's just projecting. Regardless, her expression softens into something more gentle, from what the hell to go ahead. Gideon doesn't really know Paul, but he offered her cocoa and laughed and her jokes, and that means more to her than he knows. The least she can give him is this: not trust, necessarily, but space and support. He won't have to say it alone. (Hopefully, that's better.) ]

[The look on Paul's face at that is hideously unguarded gratitude; the look of someone marking a debt they aren't sure how to repay, but will strive to find out. And then he looks back to his father, who is offering him something not entirely different from Gideon, if built on much deeper foundations. With two pairs of accepting eyes on him, Paul squares his shoulders, looks out over the graves of his ancestors to the sea, and keeps going, voice a touch stronger:]

I knew you'd say no. And you're right. I was going to argue with you, that I'd prepared enough, I was ready, but - that only proves that I'm not. [He shakes his head, but his self-judgment is without bitterness.] I'm being selfish, in the worst way. I'm thinking of myself as someone whose actions only belong to me.

[He stops walking next to one of the most ancient tombs, breathes in the air, tastes salt:] But the things I do, they matter more than that. I don't serve Duncan or our House, or you, any purpose if I waste myself. And that means I have to be here. I've learned how to fight, how to think, but - I don't know how to lead, or how to be- I want to be a future House Atreides can be proud of. And there's so much I still have to learn, but - I need to be here, with you -

[Paul feels himself splintering, his voice tighter and more awful with every syllable, and then his father is in front of him, touching his arms. Paul isn't sure if he's tugged, or if he falls, or if he lunges, but the end result is the same: he clutches at his father like an almost drowned five-year-old, burying his face in his shoulder, and thinks please, please, please, not knowing what he's asking for, or of whom. "Breathe, Paul," his father whispers, and he does, inhaling the rich, woodsy scent of his father's beard oil.

It's a while before they break apart, Leto's hands still on his son's arms, looking at him as though he's forgotten they're not alone. Leto smiles, his eyes slightly shining, love and pride and concern all mingled in his gaze.]

You have less to learn than you think. [He brings a hand up to cup Paul's face, forestalling protest.] Look at you. When did you get so wise?

I didn't. [Paul manages, through sheer force of will, to half-smile.] I didn't- we didn't just come up here so I could tell you that. We're also borrowing a 'thopter.

...is that so?

Gideon's lover is in the first wing. I'm smuggling her over. Just to say goodbye, then we'll come back.

[Paul didn't forget about you, Gideon. As a matter of fact, you're his escape route. Leto glances between the two of them, assessing, and reaches a decision. Paul sees the we'll talk later in his weighted gaze and wishes that it were true, nods slightly, and Leto's seriousness lightens again.]

So you're saying what I want to hear to get me to look the other way? Sly of you. [Leto lets go, and it hurts Paul like a wound.] You are learning. All right. Go, clear your heads, both of you, and don't let on that I know. Gideon - be safe, and if I find you on Arrakis when we arrive, you're scrubbing latrines for the rest of your career, are we understood?

Edited (typo) 2021-12-20 23:17 (UTC)

[ Nobody, aside from Harrowhark, has ever looked at Gideon like that. She's used to being an annoyance; people don't owe her things. Except: I owe you your life. I owe you everything. But that feels like years ago.

It feels like an invasion of privacy to be here, watching this level of vulnerability between a parent and child. She doesn't understand where all these words come from, all these ways of saying I love you over and over again. She's never seen anything like it, and the novelty of it all makes something desperate and uncomfortable twist in Gideon's gut, a feeling she'd refer to as yikes and then move on.

Out of all that, one sentence will stick with her, after all this is said and done: I'm thinking of myself as someone whose actions only belong to me. If she gives it too much thought, it reminds her of iron spikes, of Harrow turning to look at something she shouldn't see. And that's something Gideon definitely doesn't want to think about, so she won't. (She'll try not to.)

Thankfully, Gideon's lover snaps her out of that line of thought. The idea of Harrow piloting any kind of flying machine is frankly laughable, and Gideon grins for a second, before remembering that a necromancer and a lover are too very different things, and also Gideon has just witnessed two people having a Moment.

So Gideon does her best to school her expression, and offers the Duke a sharp Cohort salute. It's not his, of course, but it's the one she knows. ]

Yes, sir, understood! [ and then, a promise: ] He's safe with me.

[ When Paul is ready to break away, she'll follow quietly. Once they're out of earshot: ]

...You good?

[ Because wow, that's a hell of a thing to go through in front of a total stranger, buddy. ]

[The look of gratitude Leto gives her at that promise doesn't share the intensity of his son's, but it is its tempered echo. He accepts the salute as it is, perhaps because of the magic, or perhaps because he recognizes the intent.]

You make House Atreides proud. [And then, he looks back to Paul, and this is what will break Paul, if anything does:] Always.

[It's what he carries when they walk away after a last farewell, after the Duke smiles at them one more time and ushers them off, that moment that never was, never will be. It's not that he doesn't believe it. He believes it, he knows it: his father was proud of him. He told Paul that often, in all kinds of words and gestures.

But always. Always?

Gideon's question draws him out of his thoughts, his shoulders drawing back and his head rising as if startled, even though she's been there the entire time.]

I am. Thank you. [The worst part is that it's true. He should be in tears. He should fall to his knees and weep, tear out his hair, scream, something. But all he does is keep walking, his gait smooth, his eyes dry.] And thank you for being patient.

[Paul takes a breath, then another. He doesn't look behind them.] It's not far from here to the hangar. I've been thinking about where we should go, and there's - something I've always wanted to try. But it's a little dangerous, so it's up to you if we do it.

Edited 2021-12-22 07:34 (UTC)

[ Gideon shrugs, a don't worry about it sort of gesture. ]

No need to thank me. Hey, I'll tell you what you can do: if you ever meet the Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus -- and you'll know her when you see her, she's small and grouchy and carries bones on her at all times -- can you tell her that I, Gideon Nav, am patient? [ Gideon grins. ] Because she will be shocked.

[ That mental image is enough to put a little spring back in Gideon's step. When Paul brings up danger, it's almost like she's forgotten about all the complicated feelings involved with meeting Paul's dad. Almost. ]

Are you kidding? Dangerous is my middle name. What do you have in mind?

[One thing Paul truly appreciates about people where Gideon comes from is their ability to talk past things, when necessary. He manages to muster up a quirking at the corner of his mouth as he nods.]

I'll make sure the Reverend Daughter [which would give him more pause, usually] Harrowhark Nonagesimus hears that you're patient, Gideon Nav.

[Here's another tragedy to add to the pile: Gideon 'Dangerous' Nav is the first person to ever make that joke to Paul, and he's nowhere near the right frame of mind to appreciate it.]

And for what I have in mind... [Paul looks out at the horizon, points with one hand towards a looming black rock as he guides them across the island towards what appears to be, well, more island.] Do you see that mountain over there? You can't see it from this angle, but there's a borehole in it, near the base. I want to fly through it.

[ It's okay, Paul. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your patience) she's full of jokes of a similar caliber.

Gideon squints over at the mountain, which just looks like...a mountain? Which are just as new to her as islands, so Gideon nods, appropriately appreciating and respecting those massive rocks. Even though Paul says she can't see the hole in the rocks, she still tries anyway, craning her neck and doing her best. Mountains can have holes in them and they don't, like, collapse? This planet is wild.

Eventually she admits defeat and turns back to Paul, eyes bright and wide. ]

Oh, hell yes. [ this is the best! Better than whatever Cohort initiation would have been, even! ] Man, do you get to do stuff like this all the time?

[ Seriously, what must it be like to grow up not in a cult and on a planet that supports human life.....Gideon cannot even imagine it. ]

[Paul refuses to feel sorry for Gideon. It would be demeaning to her, who stands here alive, vital, and strong. But he does think, watching her take in the mountain and the brightness that truly makes her golden eyes glow, that it may be easier to think of things to give her to make her happy than it would be for many other people.

And somehow, seeing his home reflected in her eyes almost makes him happy too.]

Like that? No. [He welcomes the lightening in his chest, breathes out another weight as he finds a more complete version of a smile.] But I did get to do other things. I eventually moved on to bigger boats, for one.

I wish I could show you more.

[With that, he bends at a particular tussock and reaches inside of it to twist something. A few feet ahead of them, the earth shifts to reveal a metal staircase, hidden as most things are here. Paul proceeds down it, throwing over his shoulder:] Watch your head.

[ Oh, a secret door! That, actually, is very Ninth, and Gideon happily follows Paul down the staircase, not thinking much of it. Gideon cannot imagine Harrowhark liking flying a machine through a mountain, but she'd think this is neat, and Gideon makes a mental note to tell her about it.

But, oh. I wish I could show you more. For the most part, this has all been very novel and exciting for Gideon. She can't imagine what it's like to be from a place like this. Does Paul miss it, all the time? Does he want to go back? Even Gideon, who gave her whole life to the Ninth, doesn't want to return there. ]

Well, maybe after this memory, I'll end up in another one of yours, and we can come back? Or maybe we'll end up on that other planet -- Arrakis? Any time I don't end up back on the Ninth, I'm winning.

[ Because those memories? Are generally not great. Still, she knows this might be his only shot, so she adds: ] Besides, we'll be in a 'thopter, like you said. We can probably go anywhere.

[The way Paul nearly pauses on a step when Gideon mentions going anywhere might say something about whether and how much Paul misses it here, his head ducking slightly more than required. (In his own thoughts, he is struck by the idea of not missing where you come from, and what that says about the Ninth.) The staircase opens up after the first turn, at least, and there's room for both of them to straighten.

Everything is made from dark grey stone slabs, and yet for all that it should be oppressive the architecture manages a certain brutal elegance. Paul fits right in, with the sombre color and severe cut of his coat, like an extension of the place itself.]

If you come back, I'll try to make the weather better. You can swim in the summer. [Paul glances back, contemplating Gideon, and tilts his head.] Have you ever gone swimming?

[It's not far to the hangar, and they're nearly there. Paul stops at the top of the final flight leading down and pulls off his left glove (his hand feels much improved, opened, cleaned, and seamlessly closed again, not even a wound left to be seen) to press his bare palm against the wall. By way of explanation, he says:]

I need to adjust something. [His eyes are seemingly casually averted, looking at a dangling spiderweb, when he adds:] If we did end up in the Ninth, I'm sure you'd find something interesting to show me.

[ There are only so many ways to build a secret hole in the ground, Gideon figures, because this place, with its dark severity and relative silence, is incredibly Ninth. It's a lot less decrepit, though, which is nice. Gideon seems more relaxed here, down in the dark, than she was on the beach or in the graveyard. For a relatively large person, her footsteps are incredibly quiet, as if she's used to sneaking around.

At Paul's question, Gideon needs a moment to think. Saying no sounds awfully pathetic, and there was that one time in the Canaan house pool, so: ]

Yeah, once. That was indoors though, on the First. [ An underwater hug totally counts! Totally. ] But I think you did fine with the weather. The Ninth is furthest from Dominicus, so we don't get a whole lot of light. [ or really, any. ] It's nice here. [ Gideon waves her hand, an easygoing don't worry about it. ]

[ When Paul stops, Gideon peers over his shoulder, wondering if there's something happening at the base of the stairs. His explanation is appropriately Ninth House cryptic, so she just shrugs and steps back a few paces. Gideon generally parses cryptic as a signal that more weird nerd stuff is about to come her way; she'll just let Paul do whatever he needs to do. ]

I mean, the Ninth House is really just a big pit filled with a ton of old people. The most interesting thing about it is all locked up. Did Sextus tell you about the Tomb? [ There's really no way to say that without sounding super ominous, but oh well. ]

[As ever, Paul can never think one thing at a time: he's noting where the Ninth falls in Gideon's solar system and the name of its sun simultaneous with the thought that the Ninth must be one of the coldest, loneliest worlds he's ever heard of.]

It is. [He sounds softly thoughtful; he'd taken so much for granted.] Thank you for seeing that.

[Nothing seems to happen while Paul leans into the remembered wall, the muffled sounds of activity beyond the stairs unchanged, but when he lifts his hand there's a faint sheen of sweat on the stone, and he seems relieved. (There's one person who can't be there, so he isn't anymore. That's all.)]

There. And no, he didn't mention the Tomb. [That does sound ominous, and ominous is interesting, judging by the curious look Paul tosses at her over his shoulder.] ...I may have been distracting him.

[Paul seems the slightest bit embarrassed by that, but the way is clear to the hangar, and he continues down the steps. They open up in a massive stone niche cut into the cliff face, open all along one wall and full of folded wing ornithopters and their attendant crew. Some of those crew immediately peel off from their work and start towards Paul and Gideon.]

They'll prepare our flight harnesses and helmets, then we'll go. No one is going to ask you questions, so don't worry about that.

[That's not so much a function of magic as it is that no one is going to ask Paul any questions, and his bodyguards are an extension of himself. Paul's bearing shifts slightly, and Gideon can watch him shrug on the mantle of authority like a second skin. He greets the crew members with a nod and a fluid one-handed gesture and they disperse without a word to collect gear for the two of them, acting on silent orders.]

[ Gideon still can't tell what, precisely, Paul is trying to do with his magic. Judging by the sweat, though, she knows he's making some degree of effort. He's just lucky he's not bleeding.

She's used to Harrow's non-explanations for necromantic nonsense, so Gideon doesn't ask Paul for one, either. Still, she raises a single eyebrow at the performance, an I see what you did there, but I'm not going to comment. They've got better things to worry about. Like flying machines, for instance.

Instead, when she talks, it's about the Tomb. Gideon is so rarely the person who gets to explain things, so this is kind of nice! ]

Oh, I doubt you could've distracted him. It probably just wasn't relevant at the time.

[ The fact that Palamedes spent eight months as a revenant and didn't go insane truly is a testament to his focus. ]

So, our Emperor -- he's god, right? [ totally normal. ] Which means that he's, you know, immortal and all that. The only thing that could possibly kill him -- the beast he defeated once and can't defeat twice -- is buried in the Locked Tomb, on the Ninth House. The people of the House are just there to guard it.

[ Fun! Gideon does not mention that said beast is, somehow, doing a real number on her love life. Fortunately, she doesn't have too much time to think about that, because there are the flying machines! Gideon's jaw drops, just a tiny bit, before she remembers she's supposed to be a royal bodyguard, or whatever. ]

Woah, they look like huge bugs. [ Said in complete reverence. This is a compliment!

Gideon is only halfway-committed to the bodyguard bit. Her look of surprise settles into an excited grin, and where Paul greets the crew members with a nod, Gideon greets them with an enthusiastic salute. She imagines this is what joining the Cohort might have been like, despite the complete lack of bone decor.

(It's weird, to think about that old dream now, after everything. Weird enough that Gideon simply refuses to acknowledge it.)

She'll accept any helmet, harness, or other flying equipment as they're given, following Paul's lead in terms of how to wear all this stuff. Quietly, just to him: ]

Cool. And you know how to fly this thing, right? [ Probably should have asked before, but. Details. ]

[It's for the best Paul was already studiously not reacting to Gideon's raised eyebrow, because it gave him a hold to cling to for everything that followed 'our Emperor'.

Even he knows that you cannot possibly ask someone if their god is truly immortal without careful preparation. It has nothing to do with him, no point of reference, no need to press against what well may still be a metaphor, and he knows he's lying to himself even as he weaves the lie. Where his natural curiosity should be, the part of him that would want to know the how and when and through what method, there is instead a mere handful of bleak questions, and only one he'd ask Gideon.

He thinks of a rotting house full of ghosts, of a planet too burning brilliant to step onto the surface of and its far-flung freezing counterpart, of weapons and archives and tombs and systems of control and a covered bowl in the rain, and he already has an answer, doesn't he?]

They do. Like dragonflies. I'll show you a picture of one after this.

[After all, Gideon wouldn't know. Whatever he feels about that is beside the point. A determination settles in him, a different breed than the grim kind he's become used to, one not morbid with brooding and regret.]

Mm, I was thinking today was a good day to learn.

[The crew return with their gear, and a brisk young woman hands Gideon a set of simple gear, easy enough to intuit - the fastenings connect themselves when brought close to each other. Paul takes off his coat and hands it to another man, fitting himself with the harness and helmet, and once it's on, he's shifted again. The duke's son gives way to a young soldier with a cocky half-smile, who rolls his shoulders back and sets off for one of the 'thopters.]

I may have practiced once or twice. [He picks up where they left off easily, touching one door of a 'thopter before stepping aside to gesture her into it, and he finally relents:] I took one of these through a sandstorm the size of a - you wouldn't know what that is. A large one. I know what I'm doing.

[Speaking of that: if he says nothing about the other thing Gideon said, it's as good as an admission. So he chooses a moment to pause, drawing his brows together, glancing away as if reminded of something, yes, but not overly so.]

It must be an honor, protecting something so important.

Oh, excellent, we can learn together.

[ Gideon returns that half-smile with an equally cocky grin. Truly, this is a woman who causes problems on purpose. She flashes that same smile to the woman handing off the gear, which is kind of the worst.

Gideon has never seen a sandstorm, either, but she can imagine what they're like. She winces a little -- piloting one of these smaller ships through what is presumably very windy sounds rough.

At Paul's gesture, she boards the ship and takes shotgun. She's looking all around as she does -- everything's a lot smaller than a Nine Houses carrier. This time, it's Gideon's turn to be lucky to be looking away, because Paul brings up the Tomb again. She'd taken his silence as an admission of the creepiness of the entire situation. But it turns out he was thinking about it, which is always worse.

She's quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so. ]

Yeah, it is, for the rest of them. I'm not sworn to the Tomb.

[ Never has been. I'm talking about the failure of the Ninth House operation. Gideon is a key, a bomb. A tool to be used to pry that thing open. No wonder she was always such a shitty nun. That had never been her purpose. ]

I'm sworn to Harrowhark. That's it.

[ And Harrowhark is not the Tomb, no matter what Gideon's necromancer might think. Again, Paul sounds like her, describing the role of Tomb-keeper as an honor. It's not an honor, Gideon thinks. It's a bullshit prison sentence.

When Gideon finally turns back to face him, that easygoing smile is back, but there's an intensity to her gaze that wasn't there before. It's fine. Don't worry about it. Let's fly this thing. ]

So. I'm guessing the first step is to switch this baby on?

That's right.

[Paul meets Gideon's intensity with a half-lidded glance, and there's an edge to it not meant for her that vanishes almost as soon as he makes eye contact. He begins flipping a series of switches on the analog control panel, and the machine begins to come to life around them.]

The harness is suspensor-fitted, so it helps compensate for inertia. You won't feel as much of the force.

[That's not exactly how it works, but never mind that. Paul takes one of the stylized insignia off his collar and wedges a tip of it under a panel face on the controls, prying it loose to reveal a bundle of wires he eases out with his fingertips. He's as methodically precise about this as he was the ignition sequence. Then he switches on the vocal transmitter.]

This is Theta Hector 7, requesting clearance for approach.

Clearance granted, sir.

[The flightmaster's dry voice is received by both of their helmets and the hanger around and in front of them is clear. Paul terminates the transmission and runs the rest of the flight sequence. The massive paired wings of the 'thopter spread with a smooth mechanical whir and begin to beat. He takes the flight yoke in hand and raises it, and the flying machine rises lightly from the ground. After he eases them out of the hangar and into the open air, he extends one hand to offer Gideon his collar pin.]

Would you mind breaking that wire for me when I ask you to? It'll deactivate the back up comms system.

[He keeps facing forward, his voice raised only enough to be heard over the rhythmic pumping of the wings, and he's smiling slightly. It's not a smile that anyone would describe as 'reassuring', especially when paired with the sharp focus of his eyes.

Paul has his tombs and Gideon has her Tomb, and it's not possible to go fast or far enough to get away from either, he knows that. But he has a theory that it's possible to elude them for a while, and so: they'll find out.]

[ Gideon watches Paul prepare for takeoff, suitably impressed. Even though the ship is relatively small, the whole process looks looks awfully complicated Maybe that's why Ninth House escape attempt #46: pilot a shuttle off the Ninth failed so miserably. (That's exactly why it failed, along with the fact that the Ninth does not own much in the way of shuttles.)

Gideon takes the pin, thinking nothing of it until Paul suggests that he's about to deactivate the comms system. That gets another eyebrow raise out of Gideon, this one more of a challenge instead of skepticism. Looks like this Eighth-looking guy has guts! Nice! ]

No prob. Just give me the signal.

[ That smile does absolutely nothing to reassure Gideon that what they're doing is sensible. But that's okay. She doesn't need it to, because, she thinks, she recognizes it.

So: Gideon returns that smile, with a reckless grin of her own. At practically a shout, regardless of whether or not this ship has a gas pedal: ] Floor it, Atreides!

Edited 2022-01-07 23:30 (UTC)

[Paul does. The 'thopter's nose tips upwards and he pulls back hard on the yoke, slamming them both back into their seats with only the thin cushion of suspension to buffer it. The machine vibrates as the wings whir, and they accelerate towards the storm-clouded sky. The primary comms almost immediately crackles back to life, the dry voice now pitched upwards, stunned.]

Theta Hector 7, you are deviating from the flight path.

Copy. You can go ahead and find someone who outranks you now.

[And Paul kills the primary channel switch, then banks hard to the left, the mountain he pointed at before lining up in front of him. He pushes the 'thopter for more speed, still rising rapidly, and the cockpit doors rattle. Paul doesn't seem concerned, even as he raises his voice over the howl of wind and the straining of the machine around them.]

We have to dive to get enough speed to clear the tunnel. You'll want to brace your feet on the cross-bar -

Theta Hector 7, abort approach.

[That was quick. Paul's little smile deepens and tilts sideways at the growl that grinds out over the back up comms system with all the gentle warmth of frozen gravel.]

There you are, old man. Gideon, why don't you say hello to Gurney?

[ Okay, so in hindsight maybe Gideon shouldn't have used a phrase that she's only ever heard in comics. Paul moves it, and Gideon stays pressed against her seat, gripping the backside like she's forgotten she's wearing the harness. The speed is terrifying, it's exhilirating, and Paul was right: Gideon is not thinking about the Tomb at all right now. ]

Oh, shit! [ Gideon shouts, followed by a delighted woop woop! Whoever's on the other end of the primary comms can almost certainly hear her, but Gideon does not care. She's barely registering that Paul is even talking to someone, until the backup comms kick in.

Gideon knows that voice. Well, maybe not that voice specifically, but one very much like it. She's picturing someone with a scarred-up face and a missing leg when she leans forward, still beaming. ]

'Sup, Gurney! [ Gideon half-shouts, half-laughs, which is a very reassuring thing to hear, obviously. ] Don't worry, everything's under control!

[ Gideon braces for the dive as told, giving Paul a thumbs-up once she's set. Based on his demeanor at the beach, she didn't think Paul had it in him to do something this nuts, but she's thrilled he does. ]

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