(no subject)

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

You find yourself in a place.

This place, in fact, is somehow, inexplicably, a reflection of your own mind.

There are a few doors scattered around. They don't belong—they are styled to belong to other places. Stepping through the doors lets you visit the places like this that belong to the people you know.

What do you do?

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[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

This door was a circular portal made of a sand-scoured copper with thin aquamarine triangles ringing its frame. It was old and the metal was warm to the touch, but not too warm--like a nice cup of something hot on a cold day. The door itself opened in a spiral, and the soft whoosh of air was heavily scented with the bitter cinnamon scent of spice melange and an odd ozone tang that was faintly metallic at the back of one's throat.

There was something clean about it. Clean and calm and quiet, but beneath that, there was fire.

This was an odd place. Everywhere there was sand and rock. Stone trees were adorned with rustling, glowing aquamarine crystal leaves that shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Their light pooled in bright refracted blues that glittered across sand and the polished twisting rocks. Shapes, endless shapes, drifted within the forest of rock and crystal. Here and there one might catch a glimpse of a face, a smile across the lips of an old woman, a younger one, fleeting laughter, even deep discussion.

A glowing line threaded its way from trung to trunk, glittering and humming as it wound through the forest. At the center, the very dead center, was a most curious sight. A massive tree of light and rock had erupted like some sort of strange fountain, its roots threaded and twisted within the sand and rock. It was thick, massive, even, and its trunk was a braided mix of both light and worn rock. Coiled around the base of this tree was a massive Shai-Hulud. Sandtrout swam in a sand pool, swirling the surface of reddish sand as they moved.

It was here that Arha Masaari sat, her face upturned, bathing in the light of the tree, with a sandtrout and a swirl of sand suspended a few inches in the air, hovering over her palm.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Exiled, Sheeana tumbled through the door and landed amid quartz. She made her way through the forest, trying to spear on her gaze the faces of Reverend Mothers who had been dead for thousands of years. She parted crystal leaves to find her lost Sister in the pose of wisdom as old as the religious impulse. Sand (earth, the substance below them, the bedrock of the psyche) and a sandtrout (the larva of the Spice-producer and thus the beggining of wisdom) hovered above her hand.

Sheeana marveled.

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

"Sheeana."

The voice was whisper-soft and accompanied by a ripple of laughter that flicked out and shattered into softer echoes as Arha's eyed opened. They were not completely Ibad eyes, but glinted and glowed, warm with the Force as they were blue with Spice.

The bubbled sandtrout was calm, nestled in the soothing presence of the Force that Arha used to lift it and safe and curled in its sand. Her smile was one of complete and utter joy. The Reverend Mothers flitted to and fro between the trees, though there were some stationary shapes nestled in the thick branches. For the most part, they were only whispers, a trickling of opinions that became sand that filtered into the pool. Arha played with it, dropping her fingers into the pool and stirring it 'round with her fingertips. Grains of the spice scented sand were caught up in the pull of the Force as she let out a bright laugh. Every once and awhile, a sandtrout surface as if curious.

She let it cling to the back of her hand, but it always returned to the sand. Another bubble filled with a sandtrout and just enough sand to make it comfortable. Again. Again. Again. Force bubbles of sandtrout hovered, then, inexplicably, shot straight up through the trees and were gone--all save her original.

The Shai-Hulud stirred at the base of the tree, rumbling.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

After nine years, Sheeana still found the sound of shai-hulud's roaring gave her a thrill that was simalteneous apprehension and comfort, both held in tension.

Then the sandtrout made an upward exodus. Which is exactly what we were planning to do when we left Chapterhouse. A thousand revenant Dunes were to have followed in our wake.

Sheeana knelt in front of her, gauging the feelings of these liminal ghost-wormlets. "They are happy."

As are you. It was difficult to find a place where her Sister was truly happy, so she was glad that here was at least one.

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

"They should be," Arha murmured, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she glanced upward and smiled. "Thousands of them, a gift to the Universe, mm? I would go with all of them, in little Arha-pieces. If I could do this, I would be supremely content, but I shall be at ease with myself as I am. I still have so much to learn."

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Sheeana sat next to her, back against the grumbling worm. Even to one trained to it, this place was alive with symbolism and her mind raced to interpret it. The little bubbles thrummed with energy that made her skin tingle. "That was what we were trying to do when we left Chapterhouse. I worry about you spreading yourself that thin though."