ROLEPLAY

Le guerrier scrute l'horizon, sa posture est ferme, son visage sérieux.

La petite lui tient la main fermement, elle ne sait rien de ce qui l'attend. Son regard apeuré cherche du réconfort, mais le guerrier est ailleurs.
Il sait que sa mission est ardue, il se prépare au pire.

L'armure du guerrier se met en marche. Animée par les muscles de l'homin, elle écrase la belle Atys laissant des marques visibles.
La petite ne le lâche point, son destin ne tient qu'à lui.

Un garde de Pyr les voit disparaitre, direction les dunes de l'Exil. Et l'Exil leur tend la main. Il est bien le seul…

Les puissances les regardent, ricanent, sans leur laisser d'autres choix qu'un long voyage à pied.

The time does not cease to slide, insensitive, it does not leave any respite.
The steps are cadenced, the rhythm sustained. She has no choice but to follow

The embrace of the Burning Desert is strong, both are suffocating.
The warrior wishes he could take off his helmet, but could the child see his face?
The little one would like to have some water, but will she dare to interrupt the walk?

A silence settled since the departure, well at ease he sees nothing coming...
"I want water!", ordered the little one.

The walk ends, an Arana a little farther stops also and observes them.

A gourd comes out of the bag and nestled in the little hands, empties itself at great speed.
The warrior takes it back and sends it back, half empty, from where it came from.
The little one is angry. She grumbles and sulks. Him, he remains mute.

"Fiuuuu... this little one will have to learn quickly..."