MERCURIAL ( paul atreides.. )

003. The Tempest of Time..

Distant wind chimes murmured unspoken mysteries into the warm air of a room carrying the heat exuded by two bodies which slept through a storm-riddled night. With no windows open and the door locked, the atmosphere was lingering in oldness. Any sound would have had to sneak through scarce cracks in the stone solid walls, through furniture blocking drafts and through the dust which clung to the rays of sunlight, now shining through pulled opaque curtains in lines. And if sounds had a different origin, then they were birthed out of Paul's breath, from his mouth and from his nose, where he hummed his life onto his pillow, hiding away the peace of his face under a nest of black hair. 

Mercury was being quiet; her breath made no sound because she was awake, though not fully enough for her skin to harden or her back to find the need to straight out of being comfortable. 

Yes, she comfortable indeed, surrounded by safety. It was curious how beings just nudged from sleep were considered to be at their weakest state; on a biological level, Mercury guessed that was a correct appreciation, because she could feel how soft her face still was, how many runes have inscribed into skin by the sheets, the pillow and the blanket she took as mantles to her dreams. But it was then, in the break of a new day that she also appreciated that humans are the most sincere. 

They have experienced the single most beautiful gift hidden in life and colored in creativity which unlike others, came from a place within; not everyone has the privilege of accessing the blank spot in the matrix of pulses firing behind the skull. Dream spurred out at night and kept us company, they held the hand of the lonely, they eased the pain of the alone. And to someone who remembered too much, they faded away, forgotten, in order to give her the peace of only keeping the content of a feeling.

This morning, Mercury woke up with the wisdom of a warm emotion. It trapped into her soul and flared through tall fire, shivering across her skin and building the first smile of the day upon for lips, because just a mere nudge away form her, she could feel and see Paul. 

It's been two months and only now she was becoming aware of just how painful it had been. Somewhere along the way, she grew attached to the boy she trusted, sometime between the years of games, she had decided her heart would never find someone quite like him; because while years perfected her reliance and faith in their bond, it seemed near impossible to create for scratch another caring love. 

Love has a word which she twisted in her imagination for a couple of years now, but while she remembered vividly the time when she'd present him as her friend, it also returned to her the day when that title ceased to exist, for she hoped there'd be room for another one. Mercury was aware it was a hopeful dream, trapped in political webs of scheme and though her parents got along with Duke Leto, that never meant their houses wished to collide and merge like she wished they'd do. 

When you love as fiercely as her, it is just first minimal yearning to desire a bondage for life.

So she was entranced now, skin soft and hair ravaged from a night filled with dreams she did not remember further than their sweet aroma, left as witness on her tongue; she was appreciating the luck of waking up by his side, in a room which was safe, tucked away from duty, from rainfall and from the general storm which awaited a chance to separate them. Hopefulness was restored into her mind and though her hands were trapped, she dug the left side of her head into the pillow, where she watched Paul sleep. Careful, like a child, she was learning, memorizing, building a memory so vivid that when the future demanded it, she could return here, and feel vulnerable, but calm. 

Beings are weakest when they wake up; but to wake up weak and safe is as close to being Gods as anyone could ever get. 

Her hands being trapped only proved her point further.