let me look at the sun | open

[terriblepurpose]

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

Comments

[hectup]

[these haphazard stacks of books are nothing like camilla is used to; far be it from the sixth house to treat sources of knowledge as poorly as this, and yet—well! well. camilla is only one (1) person; organizing this mess of a library would, in her expert opinion, take a dedicated force, hence her calculated calm as she makes her way through the lopsided aisles and/or stacks. it's fine? in that it isn't fine, but something, something, one chooses one's battles; she can—will—navigate this maze with a steaming cup of tea, all for palamedes' benefit. he's sure to make a breakthrough.

(and even if it takes him twice as long as she's sure it will, it's just—ugh. it's good to have him back.)

but as cam rounds a corner, feeling the tell-tale prickle of eyes at the back of her neck—oh, you know! you know. her twin scabbards peek over her shoulders; she is, honestly, tempted to drop this teacup in order to draw them, as she whirls about, but—oh?

oh.

this figure drops before her—and, like? honestly? kudos to it; cam is nothing if not unfamiliar with the skill it takes to make such a thing seem easy, and yet cam stiffens, holding this steaming cup of tea that much higher even as her expression remains as flat as ever.]

So I'm told.

[haha! flat as ever—though, as she gets a better look at this particular person, she thinks back to pal's ramblings(tm). of all the people in this world, this can only be—]

Paul?

[terriblepurpose]

[Ah, yes, and the knives. Paul should have thought about that too. He knows who she is. (Thankfully: it also occurs to him that if it wasn't her, this would actually somehow be worse.) Paul collects himself, smoothing out his coat, and bows. It's not a deep bow, restrained by Palamedes' attitude about formalities, but it feels like he owes her a little extra courtesy.]

Yes, and I owe you an apology, Lady Camilla.

[Palamedes talked about him enough for her to recognize him, and Paul is surprised he can find a way to feel more unnerved.(Nervous is not the word.) When he straightens up again he makes himself look her in the eyes, expression serious.]

I wasn't sure which way you went. It seemed - more straightforward.

[Or he could have, for example, called through the bookshelves. He takes a breath through his nose and wills his cheeks not to flush, which is fortunately something he can actually do.]