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

[lipochrome]

[ 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. ]

[terriblepurpose]

Hello, Gideon. [If someone could throttle a person through a voice channel, it might be the man behind this voice.] I don't know what's gotten into either of you, but once we pick whatever is left out of the ocean I'm going to thrash it out of you.

That's not a very nice thing to say.

[Paul glances at Gideon and, in defiance of all good sense and decency, rolls his eyes. Then it's back to the controls and the mountain rapidly approaching, his mouth still fixed in a smirk.]

I'm going to thrash it out of you, my lord. Abort the approach.

We're almost at the apex. Do you really want to keep distracting me?

Paul, [the old man says, furious with fear] This isn't a game.

Oh, Gurney. You know better than that. Gideon, cut it.

Paul, stop -

[Paul doesn't stop. The top of the arc has been reached, and the timing of this is critical. He tilts the nose of the 'thopter down, aiming towards a nearly invisible hole in the mountainside, and plunges them towards it with all the force he can drag screaming from the wings.

The borehole is older than Paul is by ages, a relic of a war no one even knows the name of anymore, carved by a weapon long lost. It was perfectly smooth, once, a straight line shot through the heart of the mountain. As they hurtle towards it, Gideon will be able to bear witness to the gouges and stains that surround its mouth, and their cause: the hole isn't wide enough for the wings of this machine. A hundred meters, fifty, thirty, ten, and they do not fold.

He flicks the switch primed for the manuever as the nose of the 'thopter crosses the threshold of the tunnel, and they sail forth into the darkness.]

[lipochrome]

[ Gideon offers a shrug in return. Old people really do get freaked out over the smallest things. ]

You can thrash it out of us as soon as you catch us!

[ At the speed they're going at, there's no way he can. Gideon cuts the feed, and Paul dives, and there is nothing but speed and darkness and the scrape of wings against rock. There is no Tomb, no dead fathers or mothers, no sticks of dynamite, no one surviving when they weren't meant to. Gideon shouts, and laughs, and forgets herself. Later, after all this is said and done, she will hope that Paul was able to do the same.

Once they emerge from the mountain and Paul lands the 'thopter, they will find a strange, white creature with frozen antlers. Gideon doesn't know what to call the creature, but she knows what it means: it's time to go.

She turns back to Paul, one last time, and this time, there's a gentleness to her lopsided smile. ] Thanks for the ride. I'll see you around, yeah?

[ It's not really a question. Paul is already friends with Palamedes; there's no way he'll be able to avoid Gideon completely.

Then, because she's fairly certain that he needed the flight practice as much as she did, that whatever's going on in his head is a much deeper loss than simple homesickness: ] Take care of yourself.

[ Gideon won't make him talk about it -- that would be the hypocrisy of the myriad -- but it feels cruel to ignore it, to pretend it doesn't exist. So she leaves Paul with that little acknowledgement, and she follows the frozen creature home. ]