[Does she feel it, beneath the shuddering sound of fireworks wrenching the sky apart, when the universe quakes on it's axis and the sun itself (herself) leaves the sky? Perhaps, even as she's burying herself under pillows and blocking out the sound (stone burners, seared flesh, Paul sainted and godlike in a new and terrible way) and hoping for morning.
But he reaches for her, bereft and hollowed out amd pleading, and Alia is on her feet, tear tracks dried salty on her face, reaching back ad she slips through the darkened house. She could lie, could say it's Jessica within her, it's the mother stirred from sleep by her child's cry, but that isn't quite true. There is no piece of Alia who would not fly to Paul's side, if he called her.]
I blew it with Alina. And you. She doesn't want anything to do with us.
( perhaps the first time since arriving that he doesn't allow alia to see the inside of his brain — purely from a shame standpoint. he'd do everything differently if he had the chance now. well, maybe. he could never deny loving alia, same as he couldn't deny loving alina. true things are always true, no matter how you paint it.
he could've done it differently, though. been better, like he's supposed to be. not allowed himself to feel the common emotions of common men. )
It's my fault. It's not because of you. I failed you.
[Because she wouldn't. Because she can't. Because Paul is blocking her out, and that in itself tells Alia that Alina can, she would, she is, and it feels like someone's wrenched out her soul by the roots, left her chest open and gaping and bleeding in it's wake. She leaves the house -- she's Fremen, she's Atreides, she's Bene Gesserit and she doesn't need Paul allowing her to feel him to find him. She could find him anywhere, in the dark, blinded and lost and wandering in the desert, seeking her death in the dunes the way he will someday.
The way he'd do now, if this place allowed it. Give himself to the sands, give his water to Shai-Hulud, become a martyr to his own pain. Echoed across the years, the fate the same, the same, foolish Alia to think it'd be different.]
tell me where you are [Don't leave don't go don't go and Alia bleeds the thoughts together, shows a glimpse too much, shows Paul older, Paul's eyes closed (unseeing, blinded, useless), shows him kissing her forehead and then ducking to kiss the two tiny, tiny bundles in her arms, one, then the other, the sun high, the desert beckoning.
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no subject
But he reaches for her, bereft and hollowed out amd pleading, and Alia is on her feet, tear tracks dried salty on her face, reaching back ad she slips through the darkened house. She could lie, could say it's Jessica within her, it's the mother stirred from sleep by her child's cry, but that isn't quite true. There is no piece of Alia who would not fly to Paul's side, if he called her.]
what happened
where are you
no subject
And you. She doesn't want anything to do with us.
( perhaps the first time since arriving that he doesn't allow alia to see the inside of his brain — purely from a shame standpoint. he'd do everything differently if he had the chance now. well, maybe. he could never deny loving alia, same as he couldn't deny loving alina. true things are always true, no matter how you paint it.
he could've done it differently, though. been better, like he's supposed to be. not allowed himself to feel the common emotions of common men. )
It's my fault. It's not because of you.
I failed you.
no subject
[Because she wouldn't. Because she can't. Because Paul is blocking her out, and that in itself tells Alia that Alina can, she would, she is, and it feels like someone's wrenched out her soul by the roots, left her chest open and gaping and bleeding in it's wake. She leaves the house -- she's Fremen, she's Atreides, she's Bene Gesserit and she doesn't need Paul allowing her to feel him to find him. She could find him anywhere, in the dark, blinded and lost and wandering in the desert, seeking her death in the dunes the way he will someday.
The way he'd do now, if this place allowed it. Give himself to the sands, give his water to Shai-Hulud, become a martyr to his own pain. Echoed across the years, the fate the same, the same, foolish Alia to think it'd be different.]
tell me where you are [Don't leave don't go don't go and Alia bleeds the thoughts together, shows a glimpse too much, shows Paul older, Paul's eyes closed (unseeing, blinded, useless), shows him kissing her forehead and then ducking to kiss the two tiny, tiny bundles in her arms, one, then the other, the sun high, the desert beckoning.
Don't go.]