ROLEPLAY

Staeflina, deep in a dream, unconsciously felt dawn approaching. Indeed, in the morning mist, pinked by the emerging light, the sun's rays were beginning to break through.
Slowly, the veil of dreams was torn away, its shreds giving way to a troubled half-sleep.

Thoughts were racing: Su fait Li'Réh...Quelle Ki'idée de Zénui dehors...

At last, the last layers of mist disappeared with the remnants of sleep. Staeflina straightened up on her ceans and turned towards the mossy slope where Staerano had fallen asleep. Rubbing her eyes, she saw that he was no longer lying down, but standing a little further away, helmeted and armed.
She stood up and said to him, in a rough Mateis, so that he would quickly understand what she was saying: Dales'ilamDid Lye see any danger?
No answer... When she reached him, she grabbed his shoulder to turn him towards her. Staerano didn't move immediately. Staeflina heard him mumble something like: to death...to death... Let Karan's head fall...let the rain fall on the damp moss...let the rain stream down on the bark...the bark: it's red, blood-red...Oh, the beautiful red one! Oh, the blue beauty! Happy birthday filira Karan!...your head on a platter and...Jena aiye...
At these words, Staerano clenched his axe tighter in his hand. Staeflina, distressed by his meaningless words, shook him harder by the shoulder, hoping to bring him to his senses.
Suddenly, Staerano turned and, at the same time, swung his axe through the air...ending up in Staeflina's hip. The young hominin shrieked. Unbalanced, she fell to the ground and saw Staerano striding away, cleaving the air with his axe as if to strike at invisible enemies.

It wasn't until around 10 a.m. that Staeflina managed to overcome her pain and get out of bed. She broke a teleportation pact for Zora's kami altar. She limped back to the family home, to the astonishment of her parents...

Staerano stood up abruptly. He had been prostrate on the ground for several hours, though he couldn't have said exactly how long.
The Crisis had been violent once again. Now his madness had taken on a different face, so to speak. He was no longer flailing about as before. Instead, a stillness colder than death... Delusional visions still assailed him.
Struggling into his apartment, Staerano picked up a quill and Capryni vellum. In an uncertain manner, he attempted to write a few lines.

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