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[peasant]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
myshka

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[peasant]

I'm literally the sun. And you already try to stick your cold, slimy hands down my pants when I'm sleeping.

( how did this cake ploy work so well, more importantly ... alia ... )

Strange. That's what Paul said about his. ( he most certainly did not. ) He told me yours doesn't stand a chance.

[preborns]

They aren't slimy! I wash them as you've dictated I must, despite there being no dirt at all.
But they are so cold 😞 and your pants are so warm 😌

He has been wrong often before, there is little difference now.

[peasant]

They leave slime trails. Like a snail.
Can't you stick them down Paul's pants? It's only fair.

( equality, in love and war. )

I don't know ...
He's really clever when he puts his mind to something.

[preborns]

Because I'm making sure you know I was there. Snail trails to remember me by.
Well. I have two hands. But you two cuddle in your sleep, so it's hard to get in the middle.

NOT when it comes to CAKES. He's woeful and useless.

[peasant]

Scandalous.
Sorry, I claimed middle first. I like the middle. ( shocking no one, ever. ) But you have long arms. You can reach.

Really? And you've witnessed him make a woeful, useless cake?
Surely there's no such thing.

[preborns]

Hmph. Well, you have to roll over sometimes so I can be little spoon. I like the way your hair smells.

Oh yes. The tales of Muad'Dib's woeful cakes are sang in sietch and city. And you can tell him I said so.

[peasant]

I know. You get your drool in it. I have to brush it out in the morning.

Interesting.
He said your cakes are made from sand, and they taste of it, too.

[preborns]

I could brush it, if you'd like. Braid some nice things into it. [Like feathers or bones or a handful of grass she dug out from under the snow.]

And his taste like stinky boy cake.