letters from a dead woman [closed]

[worm_dancer]

Sheeana was becoming uncomfortably acquainted with the mistakes of Jessica Atreides. In a way she'd been doing this most of her life, but in the past couple months it had been increasing in pace exponentially until she felt herself overwhelmed by her world's distant past.

This was what she thought as she regarded Alia Atreides over her bowl of goo. Blue-within-blue eyes met like ones as she gulped the disgusting stuff. She could have taken it to the sensoriums of course, fooled her senses into thinking it was the finest slig stew and spicebread.

That was not the Bene Gesserit way though. They were here, conscripts and refugees in an interdimensional war, not dining in the finest halls of [Arak]Keen, not sorrounded by the scent of incense and the whispers of courtesans. This organic yet utilitarian cafeteria was their reality now.

She put the bowl down on the bonelike table and grinned up at the imposing Atreides. She was sure Alia knew that. The woman was known for the lovers she took. She had other ways of distracting herself, ones even the best simulations could not truly provide.

She waited, drawing out the tension to see what she had to say.

Comments

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Sheeana had to give due credit. Had this been a level playing field, Alia would have been a match for her. But Stacy's vagaries had conspired to give her an advantage.

She doesn't know what I know about her. History has given me the upper hand long before I was born.

She caught that twitch like a thirsty man caught the first drops of water in his catchpocket.

"I am Fremen as well, Saint Alia of the Knife...But I am also Reverend Mother Superior." She decided to let the big one go. She bet her youthful appearance and seemingly preternatural knowledge would be enough to unsettle her. How deeply ironic, if it works.

[depthundersands.livejournal.com]

Fierce words and anger boiled her Fremen blood. To name ones' master was but to wear its leash.
In her mind the voices screamed for vengeance, except one...

In her mind one presence pushed to the front of her consciousness, silencing the other around him, his bulky visage appearing faintly in Alia's vision, floating just across the table.

Oh granddaughter, force won't work with this Bene Gesserit whore... and she could teach us so much... let this little one live, appeal to her maternal Bene gesserit nature, learn what you need from her. After all, some where, she knows where the spice is...

Why where his words so calming? They extinguished the fire in her fury, and melted it away. He was right of course.

With one last fierce flash of her eyes, Alia gave up the fight.

" I a 'saint' and you a 'mother', let's not let titles of the past drive us so far apart now. Forgive me." Her pride singled a little as she feigned surrender, lowering her head appearing perfectly innocent.
"Until I understand this place better i hope that you will have the mercy to guide me in this new terrain." She bowed her head in a motion of respect and waited for an answer.

In her mind her grandfather's fat finger stroked her hair, calming her, whispering plans into her ear till he disappeared back into the whirling vortex of her mind.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Sheeana considered. She felt a welling from the mothers in her past crash at her, a response to Alia's obvious vulnerability.

There were doubts, but her internal committee was mostly voting for mercy. She sighed.

"You are right. We are the last of our kind. We can't squabble like the Padishah Emperor's courtiers. If you'd liek to see Shai-Hulud...and your nephew...follow me." And Sheeana turned and left.

[depthundersands.livejournal.com]

And Alia followed.