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« kün geyum » Récit du voyage sur la route d’Oflovak jusqu’à Coriolis

Eeri's logbook
Germinally ???, 4th AC 2619

I told him to wear a helmet.
If only he had. The beast would have ripped the helmet off, and his head would still be on his shoulders. Who knows.
But "dey, I get hot under my helmet, itchy," he said.

Azazor and I have been walking for five days without saying a word, without even swallowing anything. I feel like I can see the eyes of this Titus in front of me, in the mist. His eyes exorbitant with terror on his bodiless head, a stream of blood soaking his still open mouth.
And yet, I have seen some disgusting things. Scenes of torture, horrific deaths, flying limbs. For instance, when I was a young legionary, the day when Icus had cut the arm of a Matissa, before opening the veins of her neck one by one. The blood had splattered on my armor, and she had been told not to come back. We laughed. And of course, she came back. We did it again until she stopped coming back.

If only we could, reaching the Cloudy Cliff, find there a fresh Titus, brought back by some Power… Maybe by the Marauders? But it seems unlikely that he has a crystal, and even if he had his father's, that this one would be active.

In the moment, I didn't have time to don my amplifiers and try to heal him. The beast was already gone, bringing his body away. I know now that it would have been futile. No healing magic, no matter how powerful, can stick a head back on a body, other than by passing through the hands of the Powers. So we fled, taking the mektoubs, and leaving his head where it had fallen. Had Jena or Ma'Duk called him back to them, his terrified face would have already disappeared into fine dust, giving off that bluish glow.

I am scared. We are scared. But we have to move on. We won't see him again. Except in my own madness, his eyes in the mist, and my own voice replaying in my head: "If you fall here, you won't come back."

According to our estimates on the map, the outpost should still be five or six days away. I've never been so delighted about the prospect of meeting Marauders.

Eeri and Azazor expect to see the lights of the outpost in the distance at any moment.

"Well, should we tell the Marauders about Titus or not?" Azazor asks.
"What will they care? They don't know him. At best they'll remember the father. And not necessarily in a good way."
"That's true. Without him, they'll want to lynch us, if they remember him as a traitor."
"At the same time, given their life expectancy here, those who remember him are probably bedridden."
"I know what to tell them anyway."
"And when are you going to tell me?"
"Trust me, for a change."

The Firossa stops.

"Trust? But it's not a question of trust, my poor Fyros. We're way past that. Of course I trust you, I wouldn't have gotten into this mess with you otherwise."
"Well, then, you let me do the talking."
"dey. We don't play it that way. We have to have the same line of conduct. No more li'l secrets."
"You're the one who says that, after bringing in dangerous stuff without telling me?"
"It' okay, we won't go through that again. You holding a grudge or what?"
"Did you just find out?"
"I can understand that you've become paranoid about me, but just, now, I offer you to talk, to say things."
"Yeah…"
"It's a question of strategy. If you tell them something, then I say the opposite right after, we'll look like two gnoofs… we already stink like yelks…

Azazor pauses, thinks for a moment, then sniffs around.

"I don't get the issue."
"There is no issue. Just one thing to do: sit down and talk. You tell me what you plan to do, and I'll tell you what my plan is. Then we…"
"Maybe I don't want to hear about your plan?"
"You have to. There's too much you don't want to hear about. I am part of this journey. We go through it together, or we die. Together."
"But I know your plan. We show up, you stick a goo bomb in their face, and we pass. But we won't do it that way."

Eeri has a little laugh while Azazor finishes muttering something.

"The goo bomb is the last plan. When all the others have gone wrong."
"Excellent. Then I'll let you know when."
"Azazor… I mean it. You don't want to end up like Titus. Not right now. And neither do I."
"Hrmf…"
"So we sit down, we talk, and we define what we will do and say. If it goes wrong, we define a second plan, and so on."
"So you don't trust me."

Eeri thinks for a moment and sighs.

"But I do! Only imagine I say one too many toubshits… I might as well know what to expect… And that I'm not surprised by what you're going to tell them."

Azazor grunts for a moment:

"Well, as soon as we can, we stop and talk. If you want to."
"I do. We're a team, remember."
"ney… a team…"


A few kilometers further, the two Fyros find a place a bit sheltered and hidden, not far from a beacon and in the hollow of a small hillock. They decide to stay there for the night and chew each one a piece of armadai meat, energetic food, the only one which allows to keep a little bit of energy and a clear mind in this place.

"Shall I start, or shall you?"
"To what?"
"Plan A, plan B, plan C…"
"You got that many?"
"Until goo plan."
"Then I'll start, so if your toubshits last too long, I can fall asleep."

Eeri can't help but laugh at this last remark of Azazor, who strangely answers with a small satisfied smile.

"I listen to you," she says.
"So, here is what I am going to tell them…"

---

Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"
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