Devotion | Dune

1|01

Bracha dragged her hand through the copious amounts of sand as she sat upon a dune.

Her clothes consisted of light fabrics various shades of browns and oranges which fluttered around her when the odd gust of wind passed by. Her arms adorned many golden chains with jewels imbedded. Gold bangles clamped around her ankles and her nails painted a soft nude colour.

She was dressed like royalty. 

No stillsuit adorned her due to not much of a need for it in that current moment in time. She could survive out in the sun for much longer than normal.

She looked out onto the plains of sand, watching as it was thrown around by a sandworm coming up to the surface. Shai-Hulud protecting the lands from the greed that was the harkonnens.

It engulfed the spice harvester while an ornithopter rained bullets down on Shai-Hulud. The attempt was futile as they should have known. For that worm was a grandfather, mighty and the largest anyone had ever set their eyes upon. Nothing could stop a sandworm.

Raising from her sitting position, she adjusted her fabrics to cover her face as she pivoted and began walking to the mass of rocks.

Inside these rocks was a whole civilisation. A home for many fremen much like Bracha herself.

Squeezing through the cracks in the rocks, she found herself inside a large room where a few Fremen inhabited. They were huddled together, a couple wailing about something that Bracha couldn't quite make out.

As if sensing her presence, one of the women in the group turned around and beamed at her. She rushed over, grabbing Bracha's hands and pulled her towards the group.

"He's here!" she excitedly whispered.

Bracha Quirked and eyebrow up, questioning her statement.

"He's here," she repeated, giving no explanation.

Nearing the group she could see they had all turned to her, looking equally as ecstatic as the women currently pulling her.

"Who is here?" She queried, feeling completely lost.

The group turned to one another, excitedly whispering whilst ignoring the question directed at them. 

"Their messiah," a voice chimed in from behind Bracha.

That voice she recognised well. It belonged to a long time friend Chani who, like herself, believed nothing in the prophecy. 

"Lisan al gaib!" A man cried out, his hands jutting up as though he was praising a god.

Chani, already over the mindless worship of a nonexistent prophet, grabbed Bracha's arm and turned around. Walking out the room they both erupted in laughter of disbelief.

"The atreides arrived today," Chani started, shaking her head in disbelief, "And they think the duke is their prophet. What nonsense."

"You'd think the prophecy would have died by now."

"Well the southerners are pretty protective of it," Chani nudged her, "You'd know that."

Bracha rolled her eyes at her friend, "Yeah, the constant worshiping is a but much."

"A bit?!?!" Chani laughed out, "it's insane. It's like their obsessed with you, telling each other who you spoke to, what you did, bal bla bla. It's straight up obsession."

"What about you Sihaya?" She teased, reminding Chani of her part in the prophecy.

"Please," Chani scoffed out, "My parents only named me that because of the stupid prophecy. There is probably millions with the same name because of their lunatic parents."