OH MY GOD, LAUREN. HOW ARE YOU SO AMAZING? I CAN'T EVEN.
There is so much of Alia in this, the fact that you got her so well is beyond me. Because I never saw that as an easy task, but you make it seem so effortless.
You captured her madness and her and Duncan and Paul and just the imagery alone, that by itself is something brilliant in itself.
I really want to quote something right now, but I don't know what to choose because this as a whole is everything I could possibly want and more. INCOHERENCE - YOU GET INCOHERENCE.
Okay, I will quote this, but believe me when I say I could easily copy and paste the entire fic into this comment box and just stamp it with flail.
All she knows is the past.
There was never a time before, no shadowy pre-anything-place where she can hide, shaded from the unrelenting backwards-perpetuity of lives stretching forever in one direction, like mirrors reflecting each other for eternity.
She wonders if there will ever be a time when it’s possible to forget.
She wishes for petty human monotonies: for food and sex and sleep and jokes and silence (she’s never known silence, wonders what the lack is like—she is lacking in nothing, and it is the lack of lack which makes her Alia). She wishes for sandstorms, the hoarding of water and the passage of the worm (unlike her brother, Arrakis is her homeworld. But this is the task left to her by her brother’s legacy: ridding his adopted-home of its desert, one drop of water after another).
She wishes for—
... I don't even think there are words to tell you how beautiful and true and spot-on that was. And ugggh, it is the lack of lack that makes her who she is? That is the probably the most apt description/explanation for Alia that ever was.
THIS ICON REPRESENTS MY JOY JSYK
There is so much of Alia in this, the fact that you got her so well is beyond me. Because I never saw that as an easy task, but you make it seem so effortless.
You captured her madness and her and Duncan and Paul and just the imagery alone, that by itself is something brilliant in itself.
I really want to quote something right now, but I don't know what to choose because this as a whole is everything I could possibly want and more. INCOHERENCE - YOU GET INCOHERENCE.
Okay, I will quote this, but believe me when I say I could easily copy and paste the entire fic into this comment box and just stamp it with flail.
All she knows is the past.
There was never a time before, no shadowy pre-anything-place where she can hide, shaded from the unrelenting backwards-perpetuity of lives stretching forever in one direction, like mirrors reflecting each other for eternity.
She wonders if there will ever be a time when it’s possible to forget.
She wishes for petty human monotonies: for food and sex and sleep and jokes and silence (she’s never known silence, wonders what the lack is like—she is lacking in nothing, and it is the lack of lack which makes her Alia). She wishes for sandstorms, the hoarding of water and the passage of the worm (unlike her brother, Arrakis is her homeworld. But this is the task left to her by her brother’s legacy: ridding his adopted-home of its desert, one drop of water after another).
She wishes for—
... I don't even think there are words to tell you how beautiful and true and spot-on that was. And ugggh, it is the lack of lack that makes her who she is? That is the probably the most apt description/explanation for Alia that ever was.
MY ETERNAL GRATITUDE. IT IS YOURS.
THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥