Hear the desert sigh Sing the city's lullaby [closed]

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

A quick message to the comms had summoned her wayward sister to her. Now Sheeana stood in the statuary, beneath columns both Doric and Ionian columns and a curved roof like that of a cathedral. The floor was marble and inexplicably maintained to a reflective sheen, showing the impromptu aba robe she'd tied together from some dusty old curtains in an alien office building, spare features still with no waterfat but with a quirked up smile and mischevious eyes that made her a valued seductress for the Sisterhood.

Outside, her worm paced in a nearby pen. She'd commanded it to stay there and asked Arha to leave hers with it. This process could agitate both of them.

It was time for them to Share.

Comments

Re: 2/2

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

Manipulated. Used. A product of breeding, and of time, of people who were dead or dying or simply absent. Everything tied together, all voices blurred and shifted. She studied them all, sifting and sorting, understanding, and accepting. Arha breathed it in without reservation. The knowledge ached, so many sorrows, so many triumphs. In the memories that fell into place, she found herself like a grain of sand.

An older self, her own self, one voice among thousands, the eyes the same, the face a little more won but well aged. It was her, there, with a child upon her knee. A grandchild, a great grandchild. Fine lines, desert caressed, long red hair. A seitch. Small memories. She did not look long, for it would be something to come back to.

So. I am here in you. Distant, but here. Perhaps it explained the affinity, the identification. A piece of Self knowing Self in a different form. Arha lad to lean into Sheeana and draw in the, thankfully, drier air. They were more alike than could be imagined.

The history sank itself into her like a weight and Sheeana's experiences weighed heavily. Arha did not cry for she was Fremen, but the sorrow was there.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Sheeana took a great shuddering breath. Another ancestor. Me to Siona to her. And then from Siona to...Ghanima. It must be...

She grasped the other woman to herself. Darwi, you would be proud of me. I am a heretic too.

"The gene..." She didn't need to say the rest. The gene that lets me command the worms. It's not just because i'm related to Leto. It's a distant descendant of the one you have. Much mutated, more powerful, but the ancestry is clear.

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

"Yes," Arha murmured, her fingers light against Sheeana's hair. Family, though so distant as to hang on a thin thread, was family. She didn't think she had family, not known. One breeding experiment lead to another and another until the lines flowed a certain way, in a certain manner. The woman who could command worms was far, far along a chain of evolutionary genetics that had come from herself. It was a wonder, an oddity, a thing that when realized made her want to laugh.

"And now I truly feel like an ancient thing." It was said with wry amusement. All Reverend Mothers were ancient in their own ways, with Other Memory paving the road of knowledge and its many, many paths. Arha was weary, but would not give into it. Such a Sharing was draining, shocking, enlightening all at once. "But we are known. I am proud to know I have, in some infinitesimal way, been a part of your creation. Ancient as I may be, here I stand. Here you stand, not alone, we two. And this is a great strength."

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

"If I ever get a chance, I will introduce you to Duncan." A little bit of Sheeana's normal wryness reasserted itself. "You two would get along."

She leaned against her. This sharing had been unusually tiring. She'd had to let four thousand years flow from herself. The Tyrant's reign, the famine times, the Scattering, the war with the Honored Matres...It had poured like heavy cream and now she felt herself a half filled cup.

"Sister I fear Shai Halud may grow agitated without our presence. Let us reassure them and I can show you my progress on the sandpen."

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

Arha arched her eyebrows slightly. Ah, yes. Duncan. There was a gleam of amusement in her eyes that was quickly smoothed over as she half supported the other woman.

"I would be interested in seeing that," she murmured. "And Duncan seems...fascinating." Her tone shifted with notes of veiled amusement buried in with the inherent curiosity.