Paul Atreides (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
terriblepurpose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deernet2023-01-24 05:29 pm
terriblepurpose) wrote in deernet2023-01-24 05:29 pm
un: mouse | video
[ The feed opens on a young man seated cross-legged on an expanse of black scales, framed between two spiralling white horns against a backdrop of more black scales interspersed with charcoal dark feathers. His Hunter's armour is nearly of a shade to match, covering all of him but his vaguely familiar face.
He smiles warmly as he runs a soft cloth over a plain knife to clean it of the black blood all over its flat metal grey. ]
Good evening, fellow Sleepers.
[ The last light of the day catches in his dark curls and his blue-green eyes, on the pale mist of his breath in the cool winter air. ]
For those of you I haven't met, let me reintroduce myself. Paul Atreides, of House Atreides, also known as Paul Muad'Dib, which sounds more impressive than it is.
[ A tiny, smoke dark mouse appears on his shoulder, and he inclines his head towards her fondly. ]
It's been some time since I was here, at least from my perspective. I've certainly changed much more than anything else has. It's a peculiar position to be in, and I've been at all kinds of ends with myself, waiting for the reversion.
But while I am here, for however long that is - I've never been very good at being idle.
[ The knife cleaned, Paul flicks it deftly upward in a flashing spin, a gesture made for the joy of making it. He catches it and flips it on its side, balancing it on two fingers at precisely the axis of its gravity. His gaze focuses on it, still and tranquil. ]
Someone once told me that with great power comes great responsibility. [ The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement brushed through with nostalgia. ] It was a joke, of course, although I didn't know that at the time.
Still. There's something to the principle, if taken seriously, or so I'd like to think.
[ He furrows his brow slightly, all of his intent honed in on his knife. In a mild, everyday sort of voice, he says: ]
This knife is as light as a feather.
[ He flicks it upward again, but this time, the blade that acted as metal before drifts as lightly as he's told it that it would. It floats gently down towards his opened palm, where he smiles at it with a faint sheen of accomplishment. ]
Which brings me to my purpose here.
As long as this is a stop along my path, I want to exercise my responsibility to my power - and my responsibility to you, as my friends and as my people.
I want to know what you want in this world, whatever it might be. I can't promise that I'll be able to grant your request, but I give you my word I'll do all that I am capable of to see your wishes manifested, so long as you don't ask me to be an agent of harm.
Be creative. Be selfish. No wish too small or too large. Let me see what I can do for you.
[ He flashes a bright grin, a trace of rueful self-deprecation turned inward on himself. ]
You'll be keeping me out of trouble.
[ ooc: replies will come fromunchoose ]
He smiles warmly as he runs a soft cloth over a plain knife to clean it of the black blood all over its flat metal grey. ]
Good evening, fellow Sleepers.
[ The last light of the day catches in his dark curls and his blue-green eyes, on the pale mist of his breath in the cool winter air. ]
For those of you I haven't met, let me reintroduce myself. Paul Atreides, of House Atreides, also known as Paul Muad'Dib, which sounds more impressive than it is.
[ A tiny, smoke dark mouse appears on his shoulder, and he inclines his head towards her fondly. ]
It's been some time since I was here, at least from my perspective. I've certainly changed much more than anything else has. It's a peculiar position to be in, and I've been at all kinds of ends with myself, waiting for the reversion.
But while I am here, for however long that is - I've never been very good at being idle.
[ The knife cleaned, Paul flicks it deftly upward in a flashing spin, a gesture made for the joy of making it. He catches it and flips it on its side, balancing it on two fingers at precisely the axis of its gravity. His gaze focuses on it, still and tranquil. ]
Someone once told me that with great power comes great responsibility. [ The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement brushed through with nostalgia. ] It was a joke, of course, although I didn't know that at the time.
Still. There's something to the principle, if taken seriously, or so I'd like to think.
[ He furrows his brow slightly, all of his intent honed in on his knife. In a mild, everyday sort of voice, he says: ]
This knife is as light as a feather.
[ He flicks it upward again, but this time, the blade that acted as metal before drifts as lightly as he's told it that it would. It floats gently down towards his opened palm, where he smiles at it with a faint sheen of accomplishment. ]
Which brings me to my purpose here.
As long as this is a stop along my path, I want to exercise my responsibility to my power - and my responsibility to you, as my friends and as my people.
I want to know what you want in this world, whatever it might be. I can't promise that I'll be able to grant your request, but I give you my word I'll do all that I am capable of to see your wishes manifested, so long as you don't ask me to be an agent of harm.
Be creative. Be selfish. No wish too small or too large. Let me see what I can do for you.
[ He flashes a bright grin, a trace of rueful self-deprecation turned inward on himself. ]
You'll be keeping me out of trouble.
[ ooc: replies will come from
unchoose ]
no subject
If anything, it's easier like this. She feels less fucked-up by comparison.
She matches the crooked smile, offering a little half-laugh in return. ]
It is. I don't want you to go easy on me. So you better do the move, and all the other shit you've learned from getting old and staying short.
[ She's just guessing on that last part. It's important to remind your old little brother that he's still your little brother. ]
no subject
This isn't any of them. He laughs like he's flat on his back on the grass, tapped hard below the sternum, head ringing and limbs loose, breathy and quiet. ]
I'm not short. I'm only shorter than you.
[ He runs his hand through the fringe of his hair, realigning himself as he makes a show of thinking, like it takes him time to recall what comes next. He bends his elbow to a point and tucks his head as his other arm stretches out straight and up, holds a moment, and then uncoils. ]
Yes. I think I still have it. Where do you want to meet?
no subject
[ Defending yourself against insults is such a classic blunder! For shame, Paul Muad'dib. You've only gotten more embarrassing in your old age.
He talks like such an old man, too, with shit like I think I still have it. He can't be any older than Ortus, and he acts just like him, except weirdly cheery instead of weirdly sad. ]
Mm. Let's do the beach again.
[ A classic battle location. Neutral ground, dramatic vibes, the works. ]
no subject
The beach. All right. Let's call it tomorrow. Dawn, if you haven't taken to wasting your mornings.
[ Not with sleep, but with anything else befitting royalty. Staring at the walls and wondering what it might be like to watch them fall, or looking out windows at nothing at all. ]
You had better not go easy on me either. Don't let me win because you feel sorry for a short old man.