A risk she knew, but she felt an honorable one as she smoothly folded the linked water rings of Paul Atreides, her Usul, into the soft blue of her hair band, then placed both into the small opening, holding the skull of her beloved's lost father.
"Father and son, together." She mused, bowing her head in quite a respect but mostly to hold back any more tears since she'd walked away from the newly made God Emperor of the planet known as Dune.
"Your true son is gone from us. Killed by the Mahdi." She tells the only remains of the lost Atreides Duke. "Or at least the son I loved is gone from us" Chani corrects her voice breaking in remembrance of the dead. Even worse when she remembered her part in bringing about the horrible Lisan al Gaib with the aid of the tears she'd shed for her lost lover.
She hates that even in this secret place, she can hear the sounds of the fighting spreading over the sands like the sickness its bread.
On reflex, her hand drops to rest over her stomach. A possibility that had steadily grown since she'd last shared a moment of tender peace with her lost fedaykin warrior, but she'd spent enough time around the midwives and other females of her tribe to recognize the signs of what could be growing inside her.
"Time to go, little scorpion," the fleeing woman murmurs through the filter of the stillsuit mask. Yet despite her hast, she makes sure to tighten the knot of the ripped battle-scared Atreides flag she'd found walking among the dead, killed in the name of the awakened savior.
A replacement for the love token she'd left with the dead taken by the sands of war and blood. A more open, tangible reminder of her grieving the young Duke she'd lost to the sands of a war he did not want.
Again, Chani hears the sounds of readying battle as she reaches for the waiting hooks and thumper that will give her some distance from the looming threat of more pain, bloodshed, and wasted water.
As she lifts her bowed head, her eyes catch the folded bundle of blue cloth, and moister wells in her eyes.
She allowed only a few tears to fall before she'd gained better mastery over herself.
"I will love you as long as I breathe, my Usul." She whispers, her voice lost in the whipping sand of the oncoming battle. Then she is gone from that place, slipping down the rocks and sand towards a suitable dune cresting for calling a maker.