terriblepurpose | Deer Country Contact

[Paul squirms closer and lifts Kaworu's head to rest on one of Paul's shins, adjusting the drainage angle before he changes the pattern of touch one last time: middle and ring fingers to the inner corners of Kaworu's eye sockets, applied with the most insistent pressure yet. He holds it without moving for long seconds.]

When people have dreams like that, they're often about before we were born. Womb-dreams. [His eyes meet and stay with Kaworu's, ambiguous behind their glow.] It is different. That's okay.

[He still feels safe here, and that's important. Paul releases the pressure and strokes softly down the sides of Kaworu's nose with still-rigid fingers, coaxing and repetitive.]

Was anyone else there?

I wasn't born in a womb though. Not real one anyway.

[There was a time where he would have felt pleased that he was able to have a dream at all. Now, he just felt perplexed about it. It wasn't like how he imagined dreaming, he thought there would be more than something so intangible.

When Paul's fingers move to the sides of his nose, he squirms a little at the ticklish sensation, pressing his head into Paul's shin, twisting his bed head into further colicks and curls.]

No. But I don't think I was alone either. [There wasn't a someone but... he didn't have that pang of loneliness that sometimes creeped up on him when he spent too much time by himself.]

[Paul breathes out a slight, hushing sound as Kaworu squirms, shifting his shin to offer more flesh and less bone, although there's not much of that to cushion him. Paul has always been lean, but his time in Trench has both sharpened and hardened him, his body more a weapon than ever.

Killing hands relent their stroking of Kaworu's clogged sinus cavities. Paul leaves them to drain on their own and sets one hand on top of Kaworu's head, sinking his fingers into that messy hair.]

How were you born? If you want to tell me. [His choir-woven voice is unpressured, calm.] And did it feel like anything? The being that wasn't there?

Humans found Adam, the creator of all Angels, frozen in the Antarctic and decided they could play god by attempting to fuse human DNA into part of his body. I am the result of that experiment. Most Angels are born from eggs, formless, only deciding what to be once they are ready to exist. But I was grown SEELE's facilities in an artificial environment from an embryo.

[There's a lot more to it than that. But as Paul rests his hand on Kaworu's head, a warm and comforting weight, he can't bring himself to explain the rest. What would Paul think if he knew that Kaworu's birth resulted in the death of over three billion of his fellow humans?

He sniffles and wipes his nose on the handkerchief.]

It felt... very big. Like it was holding me in its hands. But within that was also the entire ocean.

[The Bene Gesserit are insistent on the sacredness of the blood of the womb, on the innate necessity of life-transmitted-to-life that occurs in the web of the human body. It is one of the great sources of contention with the Bene Tleilax; it's also one of their great sources of power, with so many of the birthing-bodies of the empire's elite under Bene Gesserit control. It's a thing Paul has considered in new lights, lately.

If Kaworu is abominable, then so be it. He's Paul's abomination, with a sharp-featured face and always cold-seeming feet, and a very human case of the sniffles.]

I'm sorry they didn't let you decide what you wanted to be.

[Paul reaches over Kaworu with his free hand to tuck in already tucked blankets along his side. He lets no trace of his thoughts into his tone.]

How did that make you feel? Being held like that?

[Kaworu blinks once then and then again, as if trying to parse the words in such a simple sentence. No one had ever apologized for his creation before, nor had anyone apologized for what was denied to him. Words like that are how Paul managed to stake such a firm place in his heart and it seems like the words come to him without thinking.

He idly taps out a rhythm on his sternum.]

I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now. Besides, if I flew in the air or swam in the sea, we wouldn't be able to talk like this.

[A sniff and he curls up a little.]

Protected. But also guarded.

[Paul tilts his head as he observes the rise and fall of Kaworu's fingers. He slides his hand in Kaworu's hair to one side, sets his thumb against the thickest ridge of his skull, and mirrors it back to him, soundless and soft as the faint suggestion of an upturned corner of his mouth.]

Is it worth the allergies?

[Paul understands the distinction between protected and guarded well enough not to have to ask about it. Safe, but also constrained.]

Edited 2022-03-05 00:02 (UTC)

[Don't call him out like this! There's a little huff and squirm and Kaworu hopes that it's too dark to see his face turn a little pink. Then he feels the gentle taps and settles, instantly soothed by the feeling of affectionate fingers against his hair. A tether and a reminder of a promise.]

Maybe. [A new rhythm.] If I get to pick the next film for movie night.

[Considering that no one in this house or its constituent Houses knows any films, Paul thinks this is a compromise he can manage. It's good to see Kaworu taking an interest in something that requires being conscious, too.

(He worries about the dreams, their pull. He should have worried more, before. Now anything that anchors Kaworu is a thing Paul wants to give him.)]

I think we can do that. What do you have in mind?

[Mirrored, again, and then repeated with a slight alteration.]

Mmm.

[He taps back, as easily as breathing. It's soothing, like the sound of the water in his dream, but it anchors him in his body. A reminder of where he is, what his body is like, how he exists next to another.]

We could try the wizard movie again.

[Last time he was out like a light before they even showed the ring.]

[Paul had pretended to be pinned by Kaworu's draped legs over his lap for the rest of it, blankets pulled up under his chin in the dark room.]

Do you want me to wake you up if you fall asleep this time?

[There's yet another blanket piled up where the bed meets the wall in the corner Paul shoved it into (more defensible, out of the line of sight of the window - and who puts glass in a bedroom, anyway?), this one smaller. They've been accumulating steadily, although Paul isn't quite sure how. He reaches for this one and absently shrugs it over his shoulders against a feeling of cold that's either new, or just remembered.]

I won't fall asleep! I'm better now.

[(As long as he doesn't take any benadryl or anything.)

Still, he had tried to stay awake, he really had, but back then his body just kept getting tugged back into dreams. Simply existing as a single entity had been exhausting, almost painful, so curling up and sleeping while Paul sat next to him had been nothing but relief.

And he's still a little on the sleepys ide but he can manage much more now thanks to Teacher. A lot of things were thanks to Teacher.

Noticing Paul's reach for a blanket, Kaworu shifts a little so the blanket covering him can go askew and cover more of Paul's legs. It's probably meaningless but still a gentle gesture.]

I want to understand these stories you like so much.

[Kaworu has been better. It's undeniable truth, even without the closing of the blurred hor~~eye~~zons of unbearable possibilities in the dark oceans of the yet. Another miracle from God's own merciful hands that Paul can only be wretchedly humbled by.

He was so wrong, about so much. (It drowns him when he sleeps.)]

You'll like them too. I promise.

[But the sentiment softens him, anyway, as does the gesture. Watching Kaworu be able to do this at all is a hot compress on a bruise.]

Now that you're awake, do you want to get up, or stay here?

[He can't help but smile up at Paul and his messy hair. A promise over something so small and almost meaningless, that's definitely Paul Atreides. A reminder that, no matter what, the Paul he cares for is always in there.]

Hmm. It is comfortable here.

[But not everyone appreciates naps as much as he does! He's trying to win Paul over on this one. He settles down a little in the blankets.]

Do you want to make something in the kitchen?

[This is Paul's new idea of... fun? Kaworu hasn't quite parsed that one out.]

[At the mention of the kitchen Paul draws himself up a little straighter, anticipation obvious.]

Are you hungry? I can, if you are.

[He's not good at cooking, yet, but it's a tangible thing that occupies his hands and his time, and it settles something in him, watching the people he shares this roof with eat things he made for them.]

But we can stay here if you aren't. There's no where else you have to go.

A little.

[He's not but he sees the way Paul draws himself up straighter and he likes that. And he likes the idea that he can facilitate that. He'll stomach a few mouthfuls of overdone noodles for that.

He's quiet for a moment, enjoying the last few seconds of being comfortable and close in the bed. Then he raises his arms and wiggles his fingers temptingly for Paul to grab his hands and pull him upright.]

But there are other places I can go.

I was going to try to make rice again.

[It should be simple, according to the instructions the shopkeeper pinned to the bag at his request. He'd managed to produce a pot of sticky clumps over a compressed, blackened puck instead.

(And it's not the same rice, only as close as he can find, but he remembers steaming bowls of fluffy grains topped with tiny, fried fish, dark fermented sauce, grey salt, and he keeps trying.)

He slips out of the bed, blanket still draped over his shoulders, and takes Kaworu's wriggling fingers to raise him up as requested.]

Like to the bath?

[An innocuous-seeming question, if not for the tilted, slight smile that goes with it.]

Rice is good. The smell reminds me of Japan.

[The only other home he'd had before coming here. He stuffs the handkerchief into his pocket and, using Paul more as an anchor than elevator, Kaworu uses the motion to swing himself lightly up onto his feet and out of the bed. His footsteps are light and airy in contrast to the loud sneeze that indicates Paul's success at clearing his sinuses.]

The bath is amazing. It feels like you're floating and sound echoes around the room. You should try it. Teacher's room has one so big I bet even you could lie down in it.

[You and your stupid long legs! He gives Paul a little press on the back of the heel with his own foot.]

[Paul nudges Kaworu's foot back with his socked toes as he takes the blanket from his shoulders and drapes it around Kaworu's. It hangs further on the smaller boy, envelops more of him.]

It reminds me of home, too.

[His voice is settling into a closer approximation of singularity, he notices. He touches his throat, absently, stroking fingers down its column. It feels the same as it always does.]

I don't know if he'd want me to use his bath.

[The softness in his voice, on the other hand, is for another reason. He touches Kaworu's elbow to guide them both towards the door, staying close.]

Have you ever put scented oils in a bath? Or bubbles?

[Kaworu takes the blanket without fuss, smiling a little at the way Paul's voice seems to be returning to its normal tenor. He follows Paul, barefoot, out the room, musing with more energy than he'd had in a long time.]

I could ask. [For now, Kaworu still thinks Teacher to be nothing but a kind man who helped him back from the brink. He's more indulgent than other adult Kaworu has ever encountered.] No, I haven't. Should I? In Japan, shared bathing spaces were common. They had baths the size of our entire bedroom at NERV. There are even still hot springs resorts just outside of Tokyo-3. I'd always hoped to go to one.

[But he never did.]

Edited 2022-03-07 19:50 (UTC)

There's a hot spring bath in Trench. Achelliac. We could go someday.

[Down the stairs they head, Paul a half-step ahead. He feels safe enough leaving all but his wrist-knife behind in this house. Perhaps that's close to safe enough to ask about the bath.

(But when would he have time? Who would watch the door?)]

You should ask for you. And you might like bubbles in your bath, even if it's one of the smaller tubs. They wouldn't let you do that at a bathhouse, but they're - fun.

[Paul hasn't taken a bath with bubbles in it for some time, but he remembers building mountains of foam and hiding inside them, pretending he was lying in wait like a sea monster to surprise a maid or an attendant or even his mother, when she had time to see to him.]

We should. It might not be like the ones in Japan but... I want to see it. We could bring Gideon and Harrow.

[He bounds after Paul, leaping and then floating down the last few steps onto the landing, so he can observe the taller boy's back curiously. He thinks that this is something Paul has done. In some ways, he and Paul are similar, they were cultivated for a purpose and kept from excess that didn't move them closer towards an end goal. But there are things that Paul knows that Kaworu can't imagine ever learning.]

Did you do that? Take baths with bubbles?

[Paul presses his lips together firmly to stifle a little cough, his throat perhaps irritated by the ambient pollen. For some reason, it looks and sounds like someone holding back a laugh.]

Gideon and Harrow might not like it there.

['Harrow', now, when he's speaking to people in the house. He walks down the hall unconcerned by Kaworu's floating, a thing that is also becoming familiar.]

I did, when I was younger. [No skeletons in the kitchen, this time; only a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink.] I'd make islands out of it to sail my boats around.

What's that about?

[Squinting at him and yet padding after him eagerly! Why did that sound like a laugh? What's going! What's the big secret? He must know or else he'll die (again). And there's a joy in enthusiasm that he missed while his soul was submerged.]

Boats? Oh, toys. [He cocks his head, looking up at Paul.] So at one time, we were the same size.

[So there's hope!]

It's a bath house that caters to men and people of other genders. Not so much women.

[The words for genders he uses don't quite translate as precisely as Paul would prefer, but he thinks the gist is retained, and hopes the implications translate with them.

It's hard to focus too much on that as he finds a small, genuine smile at the corner of his mouth, despite everything.]

I was even smaller than you, if you can believe that. I didn't start getting taller until two years ago.

ic contact

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cw: gender essentialism

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