Meatpile of Mystery! (Open Crack Threading!)

[whitewolfzita.livejournal.com]

(Inspired by silliness in chat and the not!kink meme)

Your character(s) went to sleep in their usual cubby hole in the sleeping halls.

All seemed well and normal.

But this? This is weird. They wake up to find themselves in a pile on something soft, entangled with various other crew members.

The natural response, I believe, is "What the HECK did I do yesterday?!"

At least most of you are fully clothed...

(Yes, there is a perfectly innocent explanation for this. But your characters don't know that.)

Comments

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen, sister-of-the-tyrant. The tleilaxu probably reprogrammed you that way."

Sheeana matches her with an identical expression. At the same time she says: "Did Duncan put you up to this?" She infuses the question with a bit of Voice.

[withoutspice]

Ghani's fingers instinctively curl around the handle of her Crysknife. "How are you insult my brother! He's no tyrant!" She's about ready to put this woman in her place.

And he's dead.

Kinda makes that one hard.

Now it's her turn to scoff at Sheeana. "Your mind tricks won't work on me. You say you're descended from me, wouldn't you already know that if it were so?"

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

"Cell scrapings. Scytale had some from you." She says this but doubt is beggining to show in her voice. Maybe...

"My Duncan is a ghola...one of a long line. The tyrant went through them like a slig through garbage. Crushed dozens of them under his body in his thousands of years reigning." She senses Ghanima's offense at the term, latches on to it. She can't help herself. This is only a fraction of the pain he caused me!

[withoutspice]

Ghani likes to think that she's pretty tolerant. She really likes to think so, but when it comes to her brother? Oh no, tolerant flies right out the window.
She takes a step forward, her anger evident in her expression. "You lie! My brother was no tyrant!"

Keyword - was.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

Sheeana flows off the edge of the bed, as sinuous as the worms she dances for. Her voice is needlelike, prodding, goading. "He was the worst tyrant the universe has ever known. No aspect of..." And now she catches the difference in tense. "Of course. Just a moment." She's gambling here. Retreating into other memory might be a good way to get a crysknife in the stomach. She's counting on Ghanima's Atreides honor overriding her fremen viciousness.

"He didn't die, Ghanima. It was a ruse, to fool our enemies." She replies in the voice of Lady Jessica, Ghanima's grandmother. As a reverend mother, she has access to those memories too.

[withoutspice]

Ghani's eyebrow arches and she just stares at Sheeana. She's obviously surprised that this insolent, rude and not to forget crazy woman obviously has the memories of Lady Jessica, Ghani's very own Grandmother - who last time she'd seen her was very much ALIVE.

"What games are you playing?" She asks, her eyes narrowing suspiciously - not really wanting to believe what she's hearing.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

She returns to her own voice. "Once again I should ask the same of you. Look at my eyes, damnit!" She points to them, glowing the same blue-within-blue. "I can be only one of two things: a fremen or a reverend mother. If I were a fremen of your time I would be prostrate at your feet by now and if I were a reverend mother I would have tried to kill you. I'm from your future, tyrant's sister! Leto's reign came and passed in my time!"

[withoutspice]

"Why would I play games?" Ghani demanded, clearly not amused with the situation she was in. She doesn't believe anything that's coming out of her mouth - well more like refusing to. Her brother was no tyrant, ever.

So she's decided to ignore the crazy rantings of Sheeana.

But Ghani shoots her an annoyed look before turning her attention to her surroundings. "What is this place?" she murmurs, her gaze sweeping over the tangle of bodies around them.