Thread: Student of Dune (DarkAngel & Sync)

As he settled into the pilot's chair of the 'thopter, Tal found his mind going over his interaction with this...Helene Atreides. So far she'd done nothing to anger or annoy him, other than being an Atreides. She'd kept quiet when he'd demanded it, followed his instructions. She may yet live up to the regard Ravis had apparently held her in. He was going to hold his judgment until he'd observed her some more. He was going to judge her worth as a person...to see if the sietch would be capable of accepting her. There was little doubt in his mind that her worth would be tested further before they reached Sietch Chondak their enemies, the ones looking to kill her, would see to that. He heard the rustling of clothing behind him, and he couldn't deny the temptation existed to turn his head to watch her disrobe and put the stillsuit on. He had heard rumours that the skin of the water-fat off-worlders was soft and smooth and...almost creamy, by comparison with Fremen skin. But he didn't he had already granted her that respect, to not look at her as she stripped and changed. Instead he checked over the controls of the little bug-like machine they were in, checking fuel levels, checking the instruments were reading properly, checking that control surfaces responded to instructions, checked the twin engines would operate as needed. It was probably unnecessary, checking that everything worked when the machine had already been flown to the city, but he did it anyway. If the 'thopter was going to crash, it wasn't going to be because he'd failed to check it worked properly. It was only when she declared herself ready that he stopped with the controls and turned in his chair to look at her. She looked...almost Fremen. Almost. His trained eye noticed the suit hadn't been fitted properly, but then he didn't expect her to know how to fit it correctly. He offered a small grunt of approval, then stood and approached her. Almost, he gruffly conceded. You've put it on well enough, but you need to learn how to adjust it for efficiency. Right now, you may as well not be wearing it. Let me adjust it for you... He knelt before her, his hands slowly moving about her body as he spoke, starting with her lower legs and slowly moving upwards. He was all of a sudden very away of her closeness, of her warmth, as he tightened her suit, but there was nothing he could do other than what had to be done. The stillsuit collects all excreted material from the body, he explained. Walking and breathing provide the pumping action for the suit to perform its work. There are pumps in the heels and around the chest. His hands tightened the straps around her heels first, then her calves, then up to her thighs. ALL waste material is collected and processed in the suit - the thigh pads handle bodily waste, extract all water and remove it to catch pockets. He stood up and leaned into her, his hands slipping around her waist and torso to adjust straps and clasps as he continued speaking. As I said, breathing provide the pumping action for the torso. Fitted properly, a stillsuit such as you're wearing will keep you alive for a week or more, even in the Deep Desert. Remember to wear the face flap when in the desert, so the water vapour in your breath can be collected. Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. To an off-worlder not accustomed to wearing a stillsuit, the process Tal had just undergone to properly adjust Helene's suit might have been somewhat intimate, but to Tal it was simple necessity. He took a step back as he finished adjusting the suit and appraised her critically. Wear the cloak to keep yourself in some shade, and keep the hood pulled up, he advised. Everything you can do to minimise your water loss is vital. And the suit should feel better, now. It's been fitted for desert activity. We only remove them when we're inside our own sietch. He paused, then spoke again, his voice a little softer. How does it feel? Ghani didn't disappoint, at least. Already, Leto was craving a surprise, but he knew he'd not have them. He was destined to know what was going to happen for another three-and-a-half thousand years, give or take a decade or two at that point, he knew the metamorphic process he was undergoing would kill him. He embraced Ghani as she fell into his arms her grief was genuine, as he needed it to be. The people who had sought to take Helene needed to believe they'd been successful, and Ghani's grief needed to be convincing. He was very aware, too, of the mourning in the city. A portion of the city had been levelled by the Stone Burner, many people killed or injured, many people looking for answers, for someone to blame. Leto already knew that those whod done this were taken care of hed seen to it. Hed known the Stone Burner was going to be set off in an attempt to get Helene, but he was as much trapped by his prescience as he was guided by it. Taking precautions against the Stone Burner would have alerted his enemies, and something more disastrous might have been attempted instead. I know she's gone, Ghani, he murmured softly, not bothering to offer the qualification that Helene was only lost to Ghani. Things will unfold as they must. He gave his beloved sister a gentle - for him - squeeze. Speak with Farad'n, Ghani, he suggested quietly. You think you cannot find comfort with him, but he would like comfort from you. Helene was his daughter as well. You might surprise yourself with how much alike you and he really are...and how much you're both hurting right now. He didn't let go of her, though - she needed to go her own way, in her own time. But he knew that, sooner rather than later, Ghani and Farad'n would find the strength of their love for each other.