[You would know, unspoken, but throbbing on Alia’s tongue, ready to be volleyed back towards her mother’s sharp disdain. Whatever they are now – cold allies, shared flesh, an imperfect echo with all the weaknesses Jessica pretends she doesn’t have – Alia can recall the moment of her conception through her mother’s eyes, and knows it was done with adoration that burns similar to her own. If it were possible in this place, Alina would’ve been as Jessica was: cherished, protected, standing beside Paul and carrying his heir, Alia’s heir, conceived in nothing but love.
That is their legacy, that of a beloved, useful toy who turned against it’s maker, it’s master, who became wife and widow in all but name to a doomed duke. For all their power, Paul and Alia can not disentangle the thread of their parent’s love from their veins, cannot scourge it from their bones. How strange, to know her mother’s love, to taste it in her mouth, and to see none of it in her face.
Outwardly, though, Alia’s mouth twitches only once as she moves through her loose stances, fluid to the point of carelessness, disdain. She knows it irks Jessica, can feel it in the terse note in her voice, and counts this as a victory – were she actually in a fight, her body would conform to that of her mother’s, would invoke the Way to defend herself.
Now, though, spoiled and indifferent child is a safer role. Perhaps Jessica will grow impatient and dismiss her, write her off as useless. Perhaps her freedom lies along the same path it had on Arrakis: fail her mother often enough to make her disregard Alia entirely.] I’ve been preoccupied. [Careless, sighing.] The house has it’s myriad diversions. Have you not partaken?
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That is their legacy, that of a beloved, useful toy who turned against it’s maker, it’s master, who became wife and widow in all but name to a doomed duke. For all their power, Paul and Alia can not disentangle the thread of their parent’s love from their veins, cannot scourge it from their bones. How strange, to know her mother’s love, to taste it in her mouth, and to see none of it in her face.
Outwardly, though, Alia’s mouth twitches only once as she moves through her loose stances, fluid to the point of carelessness, disdain. She knows it irks Jessica, can feel it in the terse note in her voice, and counts this as a victory – were she actually in a fight, her body would conform to that of her mother’s, would invoke the Way to defend herself.
Now, though, spoiled and indifferent child is a safer role. Perhaps Jessica will grow impatient and dismiss her, write her off as useless. Perhaps her freedom lies along the same path it had on Arrakis: fail her mother often enough to make her disregard Alia entirely.] I’ve been preoccupied. [Careless, sighing.] The house has it’s myriad diversions. Have you not partaken?