Muad Dib
Paragon of Virtue
He awoke slowly. The silk sheets of the bed hugged his body with a velvety caress. Not as soft as the skin belonging to the woman nestled against his chest. Her golden hair lay splayed along the pillow with more than a few strands straying across her face. Gently, his fingers gathered them back behind her ear before leaving a feathered kiss against her forehead. With conscious effort, he eased from the bed, trying not to wake her from deep slumber. When he passed the dresser, he claimed his dark trousers and cream colored tunic. He paused in the doorway of the bedroom, watching her in the embrace of a restful sleep. Carefully he closed the door behind him before turning to the large living room adjacent to the sleeping quarters.
They had arrived on Olanet the night before, caught in torrential rain that drowned every detail of the outside, in hurricane-force winds. The lights were off when they entered the doors on the eastern side of the palatial mansion; floor-to-ceiling transparent steel glass would have allowed the evening stars and moons to cast a luminous glow on the neighboring garden and reveal the interior. But the storm kept everything shrouded. Instead, they eased through the shadowed living room that Derek affectionately called his war room.
It was anything but a war room. Where the glass walls revealed the landing pad outside before nearing a stone wall perimeter against the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean, the interior held a long dining table of mahogany with twelve equally ornate chairs along its length. Near the corner opposite where the guest bedroom lay was a massive desk with piles of papers littering the gargantuan frame. A chair lay tucked behind it. But it was the other half of the room both brothers appreciated. The marble floors stepped down into the rest of the room. Opposite the glass wall was a magnificent fireplace, a mantle with several items of personal interest. Several static pictures of adults and children smiling hung in the frames, while miscellaneous items littered the space between. An old pocket watch, the exterior scratched from long use. A journal with an imprint of a torch on the old cream colored leather. A small crystal that glowed red. Even a clock at the center, made entirely of crystal and glass. Each tick of the second hand released a faint chime.
On either side of the fireplace, and well above the mantle, were bookshelves filled with innumerable volumes that stretched two stories into the solid beams of the rafters upwards. An old ladder attached to the shelves on either side. In front of the white balinka rug placed before the fireplace was a large sectional, each end curving out with an equal stretch of couch. A glass coffee table ran the length of the sectional; more artifacts and books cluttered the surface. It could easily have been mistaken for a library due to the sheer number of books. Two stories up hung a pair of massive chandeliers, intricate crystals hanging delicately from gold cordage. Every crystal glowed with a soft yellow ambient light, which transformed the otherwise imposing room into a cozy, intimate space.
Muad pulled his pants on, securing the belt and his ever-present kal at the small of his back, before slipping the tunic over his head. Hands shoved the sleeves up as he silently padded over to a long hallway beside the desk. Down the long corridor, he shook his head at the sounds of several offices busy at work. When he became senator, he swore there was no way he was going to go into the "office". So he brought the office to him. Half the mansion had turned large bedrooms, dining rooms, and other rooms he had no idea what the purpose was for, into remote offices for advisors and the like. Thankfully, Derek had the same idea when he was senator, so the rooms were already prepared.
But it was the weekend, and any work the members on his staff performed was meant not to bother him with anything, sort of an invasion. With half the mansion renovated into workspace, it still left nearly ten thousand feet for privacy. He entered a small alcove in the kitchen and started making something to eat, planning to return to the war room. Then, if Rin hadn't roused and begun exploring, he would wake her gently.
Rin Taal
They had arrived on Olanet the night before, caught in torrential rain that drowned every detail of the outside, in hurricane-force winds. The lights were off when they entered the doors on the eastern side of the palatial mansion; floor-to-ceiling transparent steel glass would have allowed the evening stars and moons to cast a luminous glow on the neighboring garden and reveal the interior. But the storm kept everything shrouded. Instead, they eased through the shadowed living room that Derek affectionately called his war room.
It was anything but a war room. Where the glass walls revealed the landing pad outside before nearing a stone wall perimeter against the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean, the interior held a long dining table of mahogany with twelve equally ornate chairs along its length. Near the corner opposite where the guest bedroom lay was a massive desk with piles of papers littering the gargantuan frame. A chair lay tucked behind it. But it was the other half of the room both brothers appreciated. The marble floors stepped down into the rest of the room. Opposite the glass wall was a magnificent fireplace, a mantle with several items of personal interest. Several static pictures of adults and children smiling hung in the frames, while miscellaneous items littered the space between. An old pocket watch, the exterior scratched from long use. A journal with an imprint of a torch on the old cream colored leather. A small crystal that glowed red. Even a clock at the center, made entirely of crystal and glass. Each tick of the second hand released a faint chime.
On either side of the fireplace, and well above the mantle, were bookshelves filled with innumerable volumes that stretched two stories into the solid beams of the rafters upwards. An old ladder attached to the shelves on either side. In front of the white balinka rug placed before the fireplace was a large sectional, each end curving out with an equal stretch of couch. A glass coffee table ran the length of the sectional; more artifacts and books cluttered the surface. It could easily have been mistaken for a library due to the sheer number of books. Two stories up hung a pair of massive chandeliers, intricate crystals hanging delicately from gold cordage. Every crystal glowed with a soft yellow ambient light, which transformed the otherwise imposing room into a cozy, intimate space.
Muad pulled his pants on, securing the belt and his ever-present kal at the small of his back, before slipping the tunic over his head. Hands shoved the sleeves up as he silently padded over to a long hallway beside the desk. Down the long corridor, he shook his head at the sounds of several offices busy at work. When he became senator, he swore there was no way he was going to go into the "office". So he brought the office to him. Half the mansion had turned large bedrooms, dining rooms, and other rooms he had no idea what the purpose was for, into remote offices for advisors and the like. Thankfully, Derek had the same idea when he was senator, so the rooms were already prepared.
But it was the weekend, and any work the members on his staff performed was meant not to bother him with anything, sort of an invasion. With half the mansion renovated into workspace, it still left nearly ten thousand feet for privacy. He entered a small alcove in the kitchen and started making something to eat, planning to return to the war room. Then, if Rin hadn't roused and begun exploring, he would wake her gently.