ROLEPLAY

The underground echoed faintly beneath his bare feet.
The harsh light of the surface had long since faded behind her, swallowed by the kitiniere's chitinous throat.
The smell, acidic and dusty, caught in the throat. But Lothie didn't flinch.

She advanced slowly, her body coated with secretions collected from a fresh carcass.
A viscous, foul-smelling mixture, but one that masked his odor.
She still had the bitter taste of it on her lips.
O'Larch had warned her: here, a misplaced breath could be a declaration of war.

Not a word. Not a sound.
Just the rhythm of his breathing, long and controlled.

Beneath her, the galleries opened up like a network of black veins.
Lothie slipped in, attentive, listening for the slightest friction.
She spotted the first larvae at the end of a cavity, clinging to a mass of white mushrooms.
She waited. Three long minutes.
No sentry. No sound.

One by one, she picked them, arranging them in woven fiber bags.
Their warm weight against his side was almost reassuring.

When she finally emerged, night had set in.
The wind carried grains of sawdust and the distant cry of ybers.

She didn't immediately look for her father.
She faded away.

A hollow in the ground. A root overhang.
She found a natural hiding place on high ground, between two dry shrubs.
There, she stood still. Waiting. Listening.

For a long time, nothing happened.
Then, an imperceptible flash.
A silhouette barely moved. Slowly. Cautiously.

O'Larch.

He was crouched low, watching the horizon with the patience of a hunter.
His back was to her.

Lothie smiled. A shadowy grin.

Nothing rolled. Not a leaf cracked.

She walked around, bypassing her invisible father.

A few steps away, she raised her weapon.
Quietly. Precisely.

He hadn't seen her.

His heart was beating, slowly.
She had him.

But she didn't knock.

She stayed that way for a second. Two. Three seconds.
Then lowered his dagger.

She slowly took out the bags and placed them on the grass, in plain view, behind him.
Then stepped back. Discreet. Silent.

She didn't wait for him to turn around.
She no longer needed his gaze to validate what she had become.

She had learned. She understood.

Light filtered gently through the water and the Hublos.
The Zigs were waving happily
O'Tall was extracting himself from his hammock when he heard a rustle of fabric.
He wasn't alone.

A figure stood upright in the living room.
A short-shaven head, a shoulder marked by recent tattoos, a silent presence.

- I didn't want you to wake up alone with a letter," says Lothie simply.

He froze for a moment, then slowly approached.
The look on her face. Full attention.

- You're going," he huffed.

She nodded.

- Oy. Not just yet. But soon.
I came to put my affairs in order, to say the words.
Not run away.

He stood, tense.
His crossed arms betrayed an inner struggle.

- And where exactly are you going?
In these lightless lands?
In this nest of Kitins, madmen and barbarians?

- In ancient lands. Where my father was born.
Where I have to go if I want to understand what I am.

- You are Lothie! A free Trykette!
You're everything you want to be here!

- Here, I'm seen through other people's filters.
There, I'll be naked. In danger.
But true.

- And what do you want me to say? Applaud?
Help you die?

She approached and took O'Tall in her arms.
He didn't move. But he didn't push her away.

- I want you to understand.
Not that you agree.
I want to leave with your words in my heart, not your silence.

A long silence followed.
Then his voice lowered:

- You're going to be alone. There, alone, for real.

- I'm trained. Prepared.
I know what you need to know.
I'm off to the primtemps.

- Your father has brainwashed you with his stories.
He wants you to experience HIS pain.

- No. He wanted to hide it from me.
But I want to see her face to face.
To stop inheriting it. To cross it.

- You don't need that. You have a family here.

- And that's why I came to tell you.
Because you're my brother. Because I love you.
And because I want you to be here... when I come back.

He stared at her for a long time.
Her eyes shone without tears.
Then, with a weary sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

- Do you want my blessing?
You'll get it. But you better come back. In one piece.

Lothie smiled, moved.

- I'll be right back.
And when I get back... I'll bring you a piece of what I've learned.
Not to justify it. To share it.

He nodded. Slowly.
Then he freed himself from his sister's arms, grabbed a slice of Pan and Tonne, held it out half growling:

- Eat up. You still look too thin for a predator.

She laughed softly and accepted the morsel.
They sat side by side. Wordlessly.
Just a little light. And the quiet breath of the moment.

- Go, little sister. But come back. Come back alive.