( "reorganized" meaning he took them all out of color order, realized it would actually bother him more than it would ever bother alina, and put them all back. )
( she ???? thinks??? this is either the most helpful man in the world (in which case, verifiable evidence he deserves better) or the world's most mild tantrum (in which case, verifiable evidence he deserves better than to be hurt by her again). )
Naturally. She'd never settle for less. ( ........... ) Can I keep it? Your drawing.
( she doesn't have to thank him. really, he feels a little bit like a child playing pretend with his stuffed animals, putting them all in nice rows for comfort and efficiency and then putting them away, just to organize them again. he's fairly sure he's knocked off a few minutes from alina's process that she otherwise spends looking fervently for something in her collection — but when paul thinks about her teeth sinking into her lip, her brows knitted in concentrated confusion, he thinks she actually occupied those minutes perfectly fine, without his streamlining. then he worries about not seeing her, or that expression ever again, and the feeling sours, like milk left out in the sun. )
I drew it in one of your sketchbooks. ( a book that was otherwise occupied with fancy drawings of him, in fact. ) I could bring it to you.
( it's blindingly transparent, without needing to take a looking glass to paul's intentions. a mouse doesn't need a wide open door to fit their way through — the only invitation muad'dib needs is the smallest crack, the faintest promise of warmth waiting for him, the tiniest hole. and alina — alina's riddled with enough cracks and ruptures, the walls she's built around herself paper-thin and prone to tearing, that it wouldn't take much to convince her to let him inside. let him stay in her safe burrow, and suffer through the winter with her.
she doesn't have the strength to turn him away, but she doesn't have the strength to bear letting him see her like this, either — some hollow shell of herself, losing pieces of alina starkov by the day. so: )
( he's a little abashed to admit it — a good person would probably respect her privacy even when she isn't around to enforce it. but, he's feeding on crumbs right now. he wouldn't lie about it. )
( she waits for the rise of her righteous anger, or crippling embarrassment, or — anything she should feel, really. finds she's disappointed when nothing breaches topsoil, doesn't so much as accomplish more than tapping inside of its coffin door, pointlessly clawing to break free from where it's buried graveyard deep. )
I think ... it's helped me see you. Like if I look at you for longer than anyone else has, I'll know you like no one could. Like I'll know you in ways even you can't know yourself.
( it's no coincidence that her sketchbooks are her own private art gallery of paul atreides, in various character studies. at peace while he sleeps — too rare for alina not to have penciled it. the concentrated divot between his brows, etched there by a book in his lap. his bright smiles, like a comet event — meant to be seen, in case you don't see it again for a hundred years. the parts of his body that have taken care of her best: calloused hands, puppy-love eyes, dimpled smiles. a thousand hidden words and secrets in every brushstroke, every penciled line.
everything she can't draw, now. not just because her enjoyment of anything has turned non-existent, but — for fear that anything she creates will feel tainted, in the aftermath of what's been done to them. in the aftermath of what she's done, above all. )
Edited (jk i hated the flow of this tag so im editing it twice dont kill me pls ) 2024-11-06 05:23 (UTC)
( she thinks of not saying it. it'd be easy to delete the words blinking back at her on the screen, but what's the point? it's taken him this long to figure out on his own, but he will soon, if he hasn't already. )
If you saw yourself how you should, you wouldn't be with me.
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no subject
( "reorganized" meaning he took them all out of color order, realized it would actually bother him more than it would ever bother alina, and put them all back. )
Yes.
Alia's the frog. Naturally.
no subject
Thank you.
( she ???? thinks??? this is either the most helpful man in the world (in which case, verifiable evidence he deserves better) or the world's most mild tantrum (in which case, verifiable evidence he deserves better than to be hurt by her again). )
Naturally. She'd never settle for less. ( ........... ) Can I keep it? Your drawing.
no subject
I drew it in one of your sketchbooks. ( a book that was otherwise occupied with fancy drawings of him, in fact. ) I could bring it to you.
no subject
she doesn't have the strength to turn him away, but she doesn't have the strength to bear letting him see her like this, either — some hollow shell of herself, losing pieces of alina starkov by the day. so: )
Did you look through it?
no subject
( he's a little abashed to admit it — a good person would probably respect her privacy even when she isn't around to enforce it. but, he's feeding on crumbs right now. he wouldn't lie about it. )
I wish I saw me how you see me.
1/2
I think ... it's helped me see you.
Like if I look at you for longer than anyone else has, I'll know you like no one could.
Like I'll know you in ways even you can't know yourself.
( it's no coincidence that her sketchbooks are her own private art gallery of paul atreides, in various character studies. at peace while he sleeps — too rare for alina not to have penciled it. the concentrated divot between his brows, etched there by a book in his lap. his bright smiles, like a comet event — meant to be seen, in case you don't see it again for a hundred years. the parts of his body that have taken care of her best: calloused hands, puppy-love eyes, dimpled smiles. a thousand hidden words and secrets in every brushstroke, every penciled line.
everything she can't draw, now. not just because her enjoyment of anything has turned non-existent, but — for fear that anything she creates will feel tainted, in the aftermath of what's been done to them. in the aftermath of what she's done, above all. )
2/2
If you saw yourself how you should, you wouldn't be with me.