Topic: One grain of sand

Saint of Knives

Date: 2013-07-17 12:37 EST
"Abomination.

They have said this word. I have not closed my ears to it in all the years of my life. I have been born twice: once within and once without. As soon as I learned how to walk, I walked a clear path. Not of surety, clear because out of fear anyone near me swirled away as if that which was imparted to me could be caught.

You cannot catch history.

You cannot catch me.

I remember all of them. I am all of them and they are now me. Their thoughts are my thoughts, their voices are my voice.

My mother and my brother...I am in the shadow of their troubled thoughts. I am not for them or that place. Let them think me dead. It is for the best.

I am but one grain of sand in their storm.

Let me find my desert elsewhere."
-- from Histories from the Edge, by Saint Alia of the Knife

Saint of Knives

Date: 2013-07-17 15:45 EST
"A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit knows. " --Manual of Muad'Dib by the Princess Irulan


She knew when the Heighliner, Sparrow's Song, had finished folding space to come to orbit around a planet named RhyDin. Noted for it's unconventional populace and near legendary resources, the planet was fast becoming a hub that the Guild desperately wished to firmly plant a hold within it's natural flow and ebb of goods. It had been relatively easy to book passage. Many of those who worked with passengers and security had little exposure to the many tricks of her employ.

The natural thrumming of its Holtzman drive reminded her of a Maker buried deep in sand before rising. And that, for whatever reason, was comforting to her, this reminder of home despite choosing to go from it. She opened her eyes as the engines powered down--a vision of the Guild's Navigator swimming in his tank of melange came unbidden to her then faded as she brought herself more awake and aware.

The trip had been a long one, and different. Traveling as a no-one without retainer or servant; without privilege of rank--she had been still feared, simply feared with less respect. And the emptiness of her dull cabin had forced her to meditate.

She arose from the stiff bed along the wall and sat along the edge. She pressed her hands upon her cheeks and bent from the waist, using several techniques from the Way to collect her swirling thoughts and mood before arising from the bed and heading to the door. A soft chime came through out to ship and several languages in a pleasant female voice announced their docking with a facility that would transport visitors, tourists and refugees to the space port, Star's End, below.

Let us see what this planet holds for me, she thought.

Saint of Knives

Date: 2013-08-14 16:17 EST
"There is no law here. There is nothing but the law of instinct, survival, and gluttony. I wonder why my brother did not know of this place. I wonder if my brother had; would it have changed our fates?

I have brought enough spice with me to survive, but how long will it last? Yesterday I walked beneath a sky with clouds and the rain came cold and wet. I tipped my face to the sky and drank the water that came from it and those within me who remembered such things as rain rejoiced. While the lines of Fremen scowled.

They do not like this wet planet. They do not like this Godless place.

And how I long for the unending gold of sand."
-- from Histories from the Edge, by Saint Alia of the Knife