D U N E
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D
une is a watcher too, but not at all like Elliana. She watches with a big, golden heart; the watching puts her at ease. Meanwhile Dune watches with a certain noble brand of ambition. He does not look to climb his way above and beyond others, but he has a keen eye for… opportunity. And he sees clearly there is little opportunity in befriending and amusing a child, but he does so anyway- for some of the guests have sharp teeth and sinister intentions (not to mention the poisoning going around), and some fleshy, beating part of the boy cannot help but to see a girl that needs protecting.Not that he is a knight, not even close! If he appears to move with nobility it is only the flighty feet of one used to dipping his way around street brawls. And if she were to ask him how he survives the dream world and the waking without being crushed by the weight of it all, he would say there are many worlds, not just two. Take this world they’re in now, this lavish festival with its music and drinks and decadent bite-sized antipastos: it exists on top of a different world, one of perfect, practiced smiles and bone-bending labor and sweaty chefs in a crowded kitchen. And that world, it is built on families that fight their way, tooth and claw, to scrape by in poverty.
His pensive thoughts are interrupted by the soft tickle of her eager paintbrush and then the gift of her name: Elliana. It sounds like the name of a flower, although most names do to him. Dune would claim it is the result of his self-taught education… really it’s because he has a romantic streak. “Nice... to meet you... Elli...” He speaks slowly, for his focus on the painting dominates his attention. He moves across her shoulder and to her chest just as she moves from his chest to his shoulder; they pivot around each other without thinking, natural as swans dancing.
When she asks him if he likes the party, he laughs and draws back his paintbrush to consider his work. It is not the best rendition of a night sky, but not the worst either. “Not particularly. Too stuffy for me.” He wrinkles his nose in an overexaggerated display. “I was just about to leave before I saw you about to drink gods knows what.” He glances down to the flowers she’s adorned on him and smiles. “Hey, that’s not too bad.” It’s the honest truth-- she has more talent than he assumed she would, for someone so young. “How about you, Elli, think it’s a fun party?”
And what on earth are dreams if not our only way of speaking?
