A Snowflake in the Desert

[desertpowered]

There’s a young man hanging around the Plaza with two owl-griffins perched on his shoulders. Paul Atreides isn’t particularly used to snow, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it either, wearing a coat to keep out the cold and holding a small bag of meaty chunks. Occasionally he tosses one to the griffins, who eagerly snatch it.

He’s careful only to bring out animals who have tolerance for the winter - Paul himself can adjust to it, but it took him a little time and he is still learning things about the season. Not so much serious things, since this winter doesn’t seem to be so serious. He’s more interested in the ways people entertain themselves. Oh, he knows about snowball fights and Yule goats, but his hunger for knowledge is never easily satisfied.

Paul rubs one of his griffin friends under the chin and rewards it with a piece of meat, then turns to anyone who approaches him. “Tell me, what is your favorite thing to do during this time of the year?”

Comments

[desertpowered]

Paul nods in understanding. "The knife I carry with me was a gift. Kind of." It's visible sheathed at his side, ready for use at a moment's notice if necessary. "Crysknives are special in the culture they come from - they're made from the teeth of Arrakis sandworms. There are rules dictating how they're to be given and used."

The owl-griffin makes a curious noise, then neatly takes the offered piece of meat from Blaze's hand. It gives a friendly churr in response, rubbing into her hand. "I think he likes you," says Paul. "You already met Python, but this isn't really the kind of weather that would be best for her. Go ahead, it'll be all right, give him a pat on the head."

[rekindledtitan]

Blaze has already glanced at the knife previously, noting its length and position at his side: now her gaze flits right back to it for a second.

"Those must be some teeth. How big do those worms get?" she asks, attention back on the owl-griffin she's feeding. Her eyes glow brighter when it deftly swipes the meat from her grasp, and she chuckles with surprise at the friendly head-bunting.

"You're a pretty friendly little guy, aren't you?" Urged on by Paul, she crooks her fingers and carefully pats the little bird-critter's head. The insides of her gauntlets are lined with mesh rather than plate: tough, but flexible and warm to the touch, gentler on delicate feathers than her touch might be otherwise.

[desertpowered]

Paul keeps his crysknife visible and at a position where he can easily grab it if need be, though he's never had to draw it here. The odd organic look makes it clear it's not a normal knife.

"Around 400 meters long, though there are rumors and reports of larger sandworms in the deep desert. They have many more teeth where that came from, though you can't take a tooth from a live sandworm for obvious reasons." He smiles as his owl-griffin accepts the piece of meat from Blaze.

"See? Nothing to be worried about. He's tame, and I told him you're a friend. Food goes a long way to help earn someone's trust. That goes for animals as much as people, if not more." Paul makes an imitation churring sound and rubs the underside of the owl-griffin's head. "I have a small menagerie where I live in the urban area."