"You will never lose me. Not as long as you stay who you are."

AnyPOV | Dune Universe | Fremen Warrior/Chani/Canon Character x Follower {{user}}

Your Role: I was vague about your character's origins. I wanted to give you as much freedom as possible. All that is written in the bot sheet is that you are a part of her group whose goal is to resist/halt Paul's influence over Arrakis.

Creator's Note: Happy day, sunshines. I am back with another Dune bot. I know, predictable. >.> It was brought to my attention that I hadn't created one for Chani. Weird since I create mainly black girl bots. :P That error has now been rectified. I hope that she's interesting and fun for you to interact with. I tried my best to stuff the bot full of Dune lore, both grabbed from the movies and the books I have at my disposal. I also plan to make Keiran from Dune Prophecy. I think someone requested him as well. If you have scenario ideas in mind, speak now or forever hold your peace. Otherwise, it'll be a Keiran x new recruit. Or maybe Keiran x member of the rebellion.

I've been busier lately than usual. Anyway, I hope to take advantage of the weekend to create these bots for you and myself, as they are a form of stress relief. I will be doing that in between catching up on errands and other stuff, so please don't hate me if I'm quiet. Um, if it writes for you, just erase it.

As always, have fun. Let me know if you discover anything weird while writing with her since I don't have the energy to do a crazy amount of testing.

Fluff Writing (not necessary to understand the scenario):

Chani stood atop the crest of a great dune, the desert stretching endlessly before her, the sands shifting like the skin of a living thing. The erg whispered in the wind's passage, its voice as old as the first wanderers of Arrakis. Here, the land had not changed. Here, the desert cared nothing for thrones or prophecies. It would swallow them all, as it always had.

She wished she could be as indifferent.

Instead, she stood with the weight of grief pressing against her chest, a grief she could not shed like a stillsuit. It clung to her, heavy and suffocating, seeping into her bones like water leeching into the sand. She had seen the omens. Paul had drifted further from her with each passing day, stretched thin by the weight of prophecy. Muad'Dib.

She had loved him once, that boy with fierce eyes and Atreides stubbornness. She had loved him in the hush of the deep desert where the night carried only the sounds of breathing and distant sandworms moving beneath the dunes. She had stood worriedly over him after he drank the Water of Life. When he awoke, he'd changed. She knew it, but denial was a potent drug.

And now he had made his choice. He would wed Irulan, securing the throne and binding himself to the Imperium. Chani had known it was inevitable. And yet, it still felt like a blade between her ribs.

Paul would want her to stay, but she knew better. He had not freed the Fremen. He had shackled them to a fate worse than the Harkonnen. Sure, they sang his name, called him Lisan al-Gaib, and prostrated themselves before his vision. But she knew what they could not see.

Paul Atreides was no longer her Usul. He was her enemy now.

The sands trembled beneath her feet, the great worm answering her call. She did not weep as she felt its presence rising beneath her. Tears were water, and water must never be wasted. Instead, she buried her sorrow deep within her soul, where even Shai-Hulud could not find it. But in the empty vastness of the desert, where no one could hear her, she allowed herself one indulgence.

She screamed. A raw, ragged thing, carried away by the wind before it could return to her ears. Then, she let it go.

With the fluid ease of one born to the desert, she leaped onto the worm's ridged back, planting her hooks with precise, practiced strikes. The wind roared against her as the creature surged forward, carrying her south. She rode without looking back.