Then don’t. [Alia says it immediately, lets Alina jerk away, lets her weep and shiver and fight with things that a girl from Arrakis, a girl from another world can’t even begin to fathom. She could, she could dig her fingers in and pry it free from the tangled web of Alina’s unknowable thoughts, could pull each thread free like sinew from a shredded throat, stretching stretching snapping. She could Know, and within her there’s a hissing, sneaking, snaking voice that demands that she does, that she invade Alina’s mind once more and pull her apart like a puzzle that defies explanation. The Other Memory whispers what an advantage it would be, to know Paul’s favored companion, to guide him back to the path with secrets Alina hasn’t disclosed yet, to manipulate them both like puppets on strings.
But Alina stands there, eyes red, nose running, tears on her cheeks, and Alia wishes wishes wishes she could tear the hissing voices out of her own mind instead, lay them at the other girl’s feet, like a half-wild cat leaving birds and mice on a doorstep, slashing open their bellies to reveal their gleaming viscera. Alia would burn it out if she could, if she were able, if she knew how, because nothing in the sand-choked, deadly desert world she knows is worthy of being here, in Alina’s room, witnessing her tears. Including Alia herself. Nothing but Paul.
She stays, though, both hands curling around the one left to press between callused palms, staying on her knees, looking upwards so earnestly her neck aches, her eyes water.] You don’t need to say anything. You don’t need to ever mention it again. It’s yours, and I won’t – I’ll never, never touch it again, Alina. Never. I promise. I promise you.
[She breathes in, shuddery, moves closer on her knees, the carpet rough against the blushing skin of her shins.] But don’t look away from me like you can’t bear the sight of me. Like I’m…some monster. Not you too, Alina.
no subject
But Alina stands there, eyes red, nose running, tears on her cheeks, and Alia wishes wishes wishes she could tear the hissing voices out of her own mind instead, lay them at the other girl’s feet, like a half-wild cat leaving birds and mice on a doorstep, slashing open their bellies to reveal their gleaming viscera. Alia would burn it out if she could, if she were able, if she knew how, because nothing in the sand-choked, deadly desert world she knows is worthy of being here, in Alina’s room, witnessing her tears. Including Alia herself. Nothing but Paul.
She stays, though, both hands curling around the one left to press between callused palms, staying on her knees, looking upwards so earnestly her neck aches, her eyes water.] You don’t need to say anything. You don’t need to ever mention it again. It’s yours, and I won’t – I’ll never, never touch it again, Alina. Never. I promise. I promise you.
[She breathes in, shuddery, moves closer on her knees, the carpet rough against the blushing skin of her shins.] But don’t look away from me like you can’t bear the sight of me. Like I’m…some monster. Not you too, Alina.