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milliways_bar2005-07-13 05:16 am
mouse-shadow.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2005-07-13 05:16 am
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The front door of Milliways shimmers and not so much opens as unfolds. Beyond, a ragged crowd boiling in the Arrakeen sunlight. A cloaked figure groans and staggers backward, clutching his chest, as another buries a crysknife in it. As the hooded one reaches the doorway, he seems to divide in half, with one part slumping to the dusty ground and another taking a teetering step across the threshhold. The door shimmers again and is closed. Another dead messiah has walked into the bar.
Rather than falling like his vanished twin, the cloaked man turns, revealing that the crysknife has also disappeared. Realizing that he isn't injured after all, he finds with a shock that he's no longer blind, either. Searching the room with his blue-in-blue eyes, he mutters, "I don't know this place." Its smell is too clean, too wet, and completely devoid of the Spice. He instinctively searches within for the future pathways that he knows shouldn't be there, and sees no future. Pathways abound, but all of them end beyond these walls or curve upon themselves into the past. For a minute that stretches into several, he marvels at this.
Utterly lost, Paul Atreides goes to the nearest empty table and sits, staring at the menagerie around him with a measured awe. Somebody buy this man a spiced beer.
Rather than falling like his vanished twin, the cloaked man turns, revealing that the crysknife has also disappeared. Realizing that he isn't injured after all, he finds with a shock that he's no longer blind, either. Searching the room with his blue-in-blue eyes, he mutters, "I don't know this place." Its smell is too clean, too wet, and completely devoid of the Spice. He instinctively searches within for the future pathways that he knows shouldn't be there, and sees no future. Pathways abound, but all of them end beyond these walls or curve upon themselves into the past. For a minute that stretches into several, he marvels at this.
Utterly lost, Paul Atreides goes to the nearest empty table and sits, staring at the menagerie around him with a measured awe. Somebody buy this man a spiced beer.
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