babies: (mpv-shot0023 copy)
LADY JESSICA. ([personal profile] babies) wrote 2024-12-24 04:14 am (UTC)

( there is nothing of leto in this child. she inspects alia as one would an urn — an unfamiliar shape, meant to hold the ashes of the man she had loved above all, a vessel intended to contain him. whether she's satisfied or disappointed by her findings (the likeness of herself sculpted into this strange girl, just off-kilter, as though an artist warped her features), it's a quick assessment. a flickering shift of her eyes, and no more, kept so seemingly brief.

it hurts to stare for long, in truth. hurts the same as it had staring into the devouring flames of the siege of arrakeen, blinding and bright, eating away at the remnants of house atreides. jessica shifts, angling herself away, toward the matted flooring laid out.
)

Come.

( it's more command than invitation, lacking the warmth that comes with opening a door to a home. stretching the limber sinew of her muscle is an unnecessary function, for a body capable of readying itself for combat, as primed as any well-oiled machine — jessica moves through forms, regardless. graceful. meaningful. a means of lowering the threshold for alia's suspicion, if she thinks her too occupied to analyze the wrinkles and creases in her expression.

she is less willing to grant the illusion of mercy to alia's writ list. a simple name put to a page is a detachment — a deliberate disconnect, jessica suspects. like flaying supple flesh from bone, she orders, neutral:
) Their names. Read them to me.

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