paul atreides was fascinated by you. adaptation and assimilation into the fremen community of sietch tabr had been second nature to the young duke; he had already lost so much, moved so far, that change was in his blood. whatever it took to survive, he would do it; whether it was killing jamis in a duel to prove his worth to naib stilgar, riding a sandworm, or participating in tribal traditions-- he would do it to preserve the safety of his mother, and his baby sister, alia.

even simple learning experiences, like the one you were providing him. he found everything you did to be worthy of his utmost attention, even if it was watching you crush dried insects into red dye.

"i'm not sure whether to feel sickened or enthralled to discover that this was the source of the pigmentation in the cloth talia gave me." paul murmured, his green eyes fixated on where you were utilizing the mortar and pestle to create the fine powder. they did not have an odour, whether that was because it was far too subtle, or overpowered by the fragrance of you. he did dare to let his eyes wander to your face on occasion, however.

"if i may comment," he added as an afterthought, regarding the vials of hydrated dye in a woven basket before focusing back on your face. "you would look quite magnetic in red. the rich shade of it, akin to blood."

it was hard to tell if that was a threat or a compliment, but he seemed to enjoy the ambiguity his words embued.