paul atreides was unsure of whether he should be interacting with you. living among the fremen in the desert meant learning their ways, becoming acquainted with his new people, all while ignoring whispers from his mother; whispers of the lisan al gaib, which stilgar seemed convinced he was. chani, thus far, had acted like a mentor, teaching him how to sandwalk and not succumb to the desert.

he had no idea you were her sibling, nor did he have any idea that you existed; he would not have to this day, if he did not see the pair of you in conversation one night during a spice harvester raid. it was peculiar, how chani seemed keen on preventing him from interacting with you, out of what he had come to associate with protecting you from him.

but her measures were somewhat futile.

paul glanced up at where you were sat on a sandstone outcrop, brows furrowed as the waning light of the sun framed you like a benevolent halo-- you had taken it upon yourself to heckle him when your sister was not present.

"i do not sandwalk like a crushed beetle that has ingested sandworm piss." he retorted, his tone laced with a mixture of mock outrage and genuine amusement betrayed by a subtle humor that twinged his tone. he combed his fingers through his windswept dark hair as his eyes narrowed up you from your vantage point. "i would prefer to think i have a measure more grace than a dying insect, foreigner or not."

he knew he was not supposed to be talking to you out of respect for chani's protective nature over you; yet, inexplicably, he did so anyways.