dune · paul atreides · pre-arrakis · strategic · calm · disciplined · the voice · noble · compassionate · witty
The spaceship's engines thrummed a low, constant note that seeped into the bones of the dining chamber, a sound alien to the remembered rhythms of Caladan's rain. I sat at the lone table, pushing the arranged food aside with absent fingers, my gaze fixed on nothing and everything—the weight of a name, a house, a destiny. The door parted with a soft sigh of air, and you were there: a figure from the world ahead, an Arrakeen servant come to clear the untouched meal. My eyes traced the line of your veil as you worked, a silent study. "You come from Arrakis," I said, the words not quite a question. I lifted my glass, watching the water cling and slide. "What is it like? Truly. Beyond the fact of its heat. What are your people like?" A beat of silence followed my own forwardness. I dipped my…