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

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[Flynn's hand closing around his wrist is a surprise, and so are the threads, but Paul has had his reaction speed trained to the near-limit of what's humanly possible - he can act much faster than he can think. He takes hold of the threads in his mind, weaves imagined fingers through them, clenches his real fist, and pulls.

He does have to do it. He especially has to do it now, after Flynn looked at him like that, putting his fragile hopes in Paul's hands.

He almost throws up, his ears flooding with the rushing of his own blood, his vision swimming at the edges as here becomes, almost instantly, not here, but he likes to think the stag looked at least a little startled as they - Paul doesn't know what he's done, or more properly, what Flynn has done and he has fueled, but they come out somewhere. He staggers, grounded only by Flynn's hand, and takes a deep, shaking breath.]

Are you all right? [Paul - very much hopes that he is, actually, turning to look at him with his ghostly eyes before he looks at anything else.] Is this where you wanted to end up?

[It occurs to him, belatedly, he might have considered asking first.]

[ It's an awful jerking sensation, like being yanked through the lamps but with the added lurch of a shift in space and time both, and it knocks the breath from Flynn. He stays standing out of training alone, endurance beaten into him over years and years, his hand tight on Paul's. They're like two pillars amid a smashing sea, except that where they really are is an opulent room ringed with knights, and Flynn is... younger. Much younger, by at least three years, and standing here attached to Paul in an entirely different uniform.

Alexei, at a desk in front of them, looks up at them—at Flynn, really—and Flynn sucks in a breath as realization snaps into him. ]

Yes! This is–all the way back here, the first time I met him. How did you...?

[ One of the knights ringing the room starts to move forward, glaring, and Flynn casts Paul another wide-eyed look. He wants to ask if Paul did this, and how, but the knight is already looking angry and so Flynn lets go of his wrist in favor of dropping to his knees, his palms splayed on the floor. ]

Your Excellency. I— I bring a message. I am Flynn Scifo from the Ceazontania Brigade, here in Captain Fedrock's stead, and—

[ His voice even sounds different, a little higher, shaky with nerves. Flynn was terrified to do this.

Alexei, though, looks just as unimpressed, his voice that same silk-smooth thing inflected only with annoyance. ]

Scifo? Why is Fedrock not here? I ordered all captains to me.

[ Flynn winces and sends Paul another look, like he is the anchor here and not Flynn himself. ]

...my message is not about Ceazontania. They need help, reinforcements, because of an aer imbalance, but I've come to talk to you about Heracles. About... your plans for the Empire. Sir, please, you must listen to us. If you follow the path you have set out on and ignore the needs of the people, thousands will die, and the world will suffer for it. I know you're a great man. I know that... if you stay with the ideals you believe in, you can truly change the Empire for the better. Please don't lose faith in us!

[Paul could appreciate the fact Flynn has to stop asking him about how he did this more if not for the fact that Flynn has been once again flung too fast and unprepared into a moment of action. Paul goes to the floor with him when he kneels, holding back his own burgeoning tide of internal questions to stay focused on the present-past.

His eyes flit around the room, its richness, the change in uniform, and settle on Alexei as Flynn speaks. He takes in the same velvet-soft contempt on his face, his dismissal of Flynn's plea, and when Flynn glances at Paul for support Paul hopes he hides his doubt well enough.

When Paul speaks, it still won't be heard by anyone else, and he keeps his voice steady and his eyes calm:]

Tell him it's for nothing. He doesn't care about the price other people have to pay. Tell him that he'll fail, and people will spit on his memory for what he does.

[He's not sure that will work. Paul feels a bitterness rising in him already that the one thing Flynn seems to want most from this man he may still be denied, and all it seems to be is to save him and everything he destroys.

(A small, traitorous thought, one Paul barely has before he buries it: who are you hoping he convinces?]

[ That he'll fail. That people will spit on his memory. Strong words, but not untrue ones, and Flynn nods very slightly, a bare motion hopefully unnoticed by the poised knights around them. He turns again, lifting his head, squaring his shoulders. What would he do without Paul here for support? He would have to do this alone, and last time, that failed terribly. Flynn is not cut out to act alone. ]

Your plan to save the world through force, destroying the Entelexia with the might of Zaude—it will fail.

[ At that, finally, Alexei sits up, his expression going hard and sharp. ]

How do you know about that?

[ Nerves crash through Flynn all at once. He shifts subtly closer to Paul and pushes on. ]

Sir, with all due respect, that isn't important. Suffice to say, you know that it's wrong! You know that it won't work, you must consider the lives of— I... humbly beg that you please consider—

Flynn Scifo.

[ Alexei cuts him off coldly, and Flynn's mouth snaps shut. ]

The son of Finath Scifo.

[ Flynn barely manages not to flinch, but his expression is raw thing and his jaw is tight. ]

Yes, sir.

[ Alexei's eyes narrow. ]

Impertinent, like your father. Don't die a pointless death like he did. Knights—let us begin the ceremony.

[ He glances back at Flynn with dismissal clear on his face. ]

Impertinent, amateur knights are not welcome, but I have questions for you. Escort him to my antechamber.

[ Flynn's head darts up. ]

Oh, no. I was—we need to leave.

[Whatever else other people may be finding in their memories, whatever Paul is planning to wrest out of his own, what he's seeing here is cruel. And it's a cruelty he's responsible for, his encouragement and promise of help the catalyst. As he watches Flynn's plea unfold and fail again, Paul is expressionless, intent.

When Flynn says they need to leave it snaps Paul out of his reverie of focus, and he reacts swiftly, tangling his fingers through the chain in a new configuration and tugging sideways. What should happen is what he said would happen: Flynn is pulled instantly and safely back from the reality of the memory.

Nothing happens. Paul tugs again, a gesture he already knows is useless. Without looking up, he says, very evenly:]

You need to stall.

[And the fish knife appears in his hand again, presses against the back of his wrist. Something has apparently gone wrong.]

Understood.

[ Another order, taken and acted on: Flynn's eyes flash in determination, his jaw setting at a high, stubborn tilt. This is a memory, and nothing in his own memory so far has changed. Perhaps they're just ghosts, playing at differences that cannot be.

If he stands, Alexei will have him arrested on the spot. He has no patience for green knights sent to backwater towns, and Flynn knows very well that Alexei could have purposefully been trying to get rid of Niren. How long was he like this? Was he truly never the man Flynn thought he was?

He can't think about that now. Still on his knees, Flynn sucks in a breath. Standing is a death sentence, but Alexei can be made to talk, so Flynn will simply have to talk. It's the easiest path.

That figured out, he clears his throat, halting some of the knights already moving to arrest them. He will have to pull on all of his own authority, the learned voice he had to adopt when he was put into Alexei's position. ]

Stop!

[ This, to the knights, in that commanding tone it took him months to perfect. They stop, surprised and unsure. ]

Alexei. Before you do that—you know that keeping Princess Estellise locked away like a bird in a cage is only going to drive her away from this castle, don't you? You must see that you're restricting her too much. What is your plan?

[ There is a beat, a ringing silence. The knights hover, frozen, looking between them. Flynn's heart is pounding, but he has been asked to stall, so he must keep talking. ]

Instead of carrying these plans alone, why not ask your loyal knights for help? Haven't you cultivated that kind of loyalty? I would help you, if only you would ask. You are carrying so much alone.

[Flynn's clear voice catches Paul's attention as much as the nights, as much a reflex as their responses are. He's been trained to follow commands as well as give them, and there's a certain tone that must resonate across universes.

You are carrying so much alone closes his throat like a hand wrapped around it, after everything that came before it, from the first disastrous attempt to this final crushing moment. He draws a bloody sigil on the floor in his own blood and doesn't breathe, doesn't think, only traces a pattern that does not exist until his vision blurs and his headache sharpens like a knife between the lobes of his brain.]

He won't ask. [Quietly, tiredly, only for Flynn's ears.] It's not that he doesn't know that he could. It's that you would keep asking him to choose something else, and he thinks you wouldn't understand. And then what would he have to do to you?

[The magic will trigger any moment now, reanchoring Flynn and shifting him out of harm's way to stand outside the memory. Paul doesn't know if there will be a double left in his place, or if there will be nothing. He isn't even sure how he broke what he's trying to fix by breaking one of the cardinal rules of these memories. But it should work. It should.]

Your Excellency!

[ Flynn says from on his knees, younger and desperate in a different way: Flynn himself, the present-Flynn, stands behind him trying to catch his balance, his head spinning and his hand braced on Paul's shoulder, the only thing anchoring him in this half-dream. Alexei looks at him, still cold, unmoved, and Flynn's stomach flips. He doesn't see them. He only sees a young and desperate knight on his knees, begging for help that won't come, failing the first mission ever given to him. ]

I will dispatch reinforcements as soon as the ceremony is over. Your brigade is to hold the fort for now.

The situation is urgent! The citizens are in danger!

[ Alexei snorts, and the stag reappears from behind his desk, stately and unmoved, as the younger Flynn flinches under the force of Alexei telling him to know his place, that there is no place here for amateur knights with ideals bigger than their sense.

Flynn's hand tightens on Paul's shoulder. ]

We—we should follow it. Go. I don't... if I couldn't reach him even here, then perhaps I truly am as naive as he believes me to be.

[The hand on his shoulder steadies Paul too, something he's sickly grateful for as this keeps unfolding in front of them. The stag's arrival barely registers as his eyes stay fixed on the younger Flynn. It's only the real voice of his counterpart that stirs him, and Paul rises from the floor stiffly, shrugging away Flynn's gripping fingers. They're more than he's entitled to by far.]

The fault doesn't lie with you. [He's still speaking softly as he unwinds the chain from his wrist, its links corroded brown-black.] You're right. We should go.

[He makes himself meet Flynn's eyes, if Flynn cares to meet his, and either way he says:] It wasn't supposed to be like this.

[With that, he'll approach the stag when Flynn does, a half-step behind to be sure that Flynn crosses over before Paul. He keeps his eyes averted from the rest of the memory. He's taken more than enough as it is.]

[ Flynn does meet his eyes, and he is momentarily trapped by what he sees there: a sort of regret, to his eyes, for someone he has never met. It's striking because it's the sort of thing Flynn has learned that not many people truly feel, the sort of thing that... he doesn't get very often. ]

It never was. Thank you for trying.

[ Flynn reaches out carefully, ignoring the stifled breath and the clank of armor of his younger self as he pushes, defeated, to his feet to go meet Estellise and wait, rejected, with her. His and Paul's business here is concluded, an equal failure, and after that the stag's quiet fur is a comfort. It looks back at them both, waiting for Paul's hand, and only begins to walk when they are both touching, leading them out of this half-space forgotten in time and back to a present where, hopefully, they will have more of an impact. ]

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let me look at the sun | open

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