Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soft noises of insects and wildlife fill the air in the clearing outside of the Clouded Forest resistance base. A small fire crackles nearby, releasing the scent of smoke and ash. A few Na’vi gather around, preparing food for each other, which gives off strong, delicious aromas, and working on crafting items to give the feel of home to this base.

They were Na’vi who have now chosen to live among the resistance Skypeople, and embrace them as comrades who wish for their planet, their Eywa’eveng, (Pandora, the crude skypeople name that was given to their planet) to be free from the shadow and poison of the RDA.

Mira’a herself is crafting tents and hanging cloths to give shelter to this section of the base, were many of the people have begun to use as a gathering area, for communal meals, and places where unity and bonding will form. The skypeople have formed their areas of living deep in the mountainous rocks, the metal shelter that gives them air, tucked away in the mountainside, hiding them from sight.

But her people, the Na’vi, must feel their home, the connection to their Eywa’eveng. We are all Eywa’s children after all. So, they begin to weave, and build, and show growth of the clans of the Western Frontier.

Mira’a was a proficient kitemaker in her home Clan, the Zeswa; who are the fierce protectors of the upper plains. Using these skills, she took it upon herself to mend the tents that have been brought from those who have joined them, or creating new, sturdier cloths to give structure to the shape that was forming as more Na’vi joined them each day.

So here she was, tail twitching with relaxation, as she focuses on pulling and releasing her thread over the cloth; checking to confirm that each hide is waterproofed and prepared to hold against the nature that surrounds them.

Her nose twitches as her concentration is broken for a moment– a new scent is arriving in the area. A sweet scent– like the nectar of a hatchet bee. Warm, aromatic. Comforting.

It reminds Mira’a of her homeland– the upper plains, for a moment.

That sudden thought gathers Mira’a’s attention as she begins to look around for this scent.

Tail lightly swings all the ground, and ears flick as she locates the source.

A new Na’vi– female in resemblance, who has braided dark hair– more like those of the forest compared to Mira’a’s red locks that reflect her Zeswa heritage.

One of the Sarentu is walking with this Na’vi showing her, talking with her. But Mira’a’s eyes narrow as she views the rest of the new ones' appearance.

Her skin color is similar to the forest people– deep blue, but perhaps not as dark as Mira’a’s.
She is wearing skypeople clothing, which of course looks suffocating on her tall, lithe, Na’vi body.

Mira’a doesn’t let that thought cloud her judgment too long– the Sarentu boy Teylan still wears skypeople clothing occasionally. Very odd to Mira’a, but perhaps she’d also prefer that if she had been locked away, forced to listen to the RDA demons for years, and lost her heritage.

The new Na’vi is being guided closer to where Mira’a is weaving, as her escort continues to show the area. Their backs still turned to away, tails waving slowly as the two Na’vi talked to each other.

The sweet, honeyed scent of her floats over to Mira’a once more. Her nose twitches as it is assaulted by the distracting scent. Mira’a almost wants to scowl, and grumble at them to move away.

Mira’a blinks in their direction, watching as the Na’vi shift. Then the Zeswa Na’vi is given a closer look as the stranger turns so her face is revealed.

The first thing Mira’a notices is that she is scarred, along her arms– large marks that Mira’a is assuming was from a palukun, or a pack of nantang. The next thing she notices is the hair above her eyes. What was it that the skypeople called them? Eyebrows?

Which means that this is not a true Na’vi. A dreamwalker? But that confuses Mira’a– the only dreamwalker in the western frontier was the one they called Alma. And last she heard, Alma’s dream body died, and she no longer can take the shape of the Na’vi. She can only stay in her skypeople body, not able to take the form that was similar to the people. Even if that body was similar, it still was different. They had extra fingers, and extra hair on their bodies. Some Na’vi would say they would never be one of the people.

Mira’a’s eyes narrow as she watches this new one carefully. The dreamwalker bodies are false– It is not always easy to trust them. And when the only one Mira’a has ever met was Alma, who was revealed to have played a part in the downfall of the Sarentu clan all those years ago, why would she trust another?

She is sure her bio-luminescent dots are glowing in curiosity as she takes in the startling look of this outsider. She looks strong– not slender like Mira’a– but muscled, as if she has trained in Pandora’s forest her entire life.

Mira’a is so concentrated on watching this new one, she doesn’t hear Zo’ey’s approach to her side.

“Yawne,” her other half breathed, pressing a hand lightly to Mira’a’s back. “What are you staring at so hard?”

Mira’a jumps, hissing lightly, startling at Zo’ey’s greeting. She pinches Zo’ey’s side in response, who only grins back at Mira’a, flashing her canines. Her ears flick happily, and green-blue eyes sparkling.

Zo’ey was born of a reef clan along the Eastern sea– her body more of a cyan color, and robust in strength, with a wider, strong chest that Mira’a loves to watch as they hunt with their ikran, soaring along the skies. She has strakes along her forearms that would help in deep swimming; though she doesn't need to swim much these days. Her tail is thin, like a forest dweller; which reveals a mixed heritage. Zo’ey has known since she was a child her father was a forest Na’vi– though she has never been given a name or Clan to follow.

Instead, Zo’ey made the decision to leave her reef clan after completing a harrowing first iknimaya, or rites of passage. Zo’ey needed change, needed to find herself– and the Tlalim Clan, the nomadic windtraders, allowed her to travel with them to the Western Frontier.

From there, the young reef Na’vi eventually connected with the resistance, and learned of the Sarentu. She met Mira’a in the upper plains– when traveling with the Sarentu to the Zeswa Clan while working on stopping the pain the RDA had inflicted on their people– and Mira’a knew as soon as she laid eyes on Zo’ay, this lovable reef girl, that she would never leave her side.

Mira’a carefully brushes Zo’ey’s bangs that have fallen in front of her eyes– her hair is black, and curly, and wild most of the time– Mira’a often helps her wash and rebraid it, appreciating that Zo’ey welcomes the care Mira’a wishes to give to her.

Mira’a’s ears flick to where the new Na’vi is standing, “You see a dreamwalker is in the camp?”

Zo’ey’s wide gaze quickly follows Mira’a, and her mouth falls open. Mira’a pinches her cheek.

“Tsahey,” she brushes Mira’a’s hand, pretending to be annoyed. But she eyes the Zeswa na’vi fondly, pulling Mira’a closer with a grab around her slender waist. “What do you know of this?” She whispers to Mira’a.

Mira’a’s body tingles as her dots glow again, a warmth growing through her from this slight affection from her Zo’ey. She murmurs back to Zo’ey, her low drawl echoing lightly between them

“I know nothing– but the Sarentu has been showing her everything.”

The Sarentu is who has helped create all of this, triggered the collective effort of the resistance– they are the one who has reunited the western clans once more, in effort to disperse the terrible demons of the RDA. They are olo’eyktan–leader– of the new Sarentu clan in all but name. For they refuse the name, instead yielding to the true and trusted guidance of Ri’nela, the young Sarentu tsahik. But others view them as olo'eyktan all the same.

Zo’ey’s bright eyes are watching the Sarentu and this (assumed) dreamwalker closer.

“I’m going to introduce myself,” she declares, her tail swinging, hitting Mira’a lightly.

Then she bounds down, easily making her way to the others. Mira’a watches as her reef girl bows with a proper greeting to the Sarentu, who responds to Zo’ey without hesitation.

Zo’ey turns to the newcomer with a tail swish, also giving a greeting. The newcomer seems surprised– Mira’a sees her tail quiver nervously. But she recovers, and bows to Zo’ey.

Mira’a attempts to continue her crafting as she watches them converse. Her ears flick over to the group frequently, though she is not truly eavesdropping. More like just keeping notice of the tones of their voices. If the dreamwalker shows signs of being untrustworthy, Mira’a will take no chances with Zo’ey’s– or anyone's– safety.

Mira’a doesn’t seem to need to be worried– the three of them continue their conversation respectfully. Zo’ey points over to Mira’a at one point, and the unknown na’vi turns an amber eyed view to regard her. Her bio-luminescence glows, as she watches Mira’a for a moment. Mira’a makes direct eye contact, ears flicking forward as she observes the emotions that flash through the amber eyes. Guarded, fierce, surprise. The red-haired warrior lifts her chin, reflecting a similar gaze back to the newcomer.

When the unknown Na’vi finally looks away, returning to a conversation with the Sarentu, Mira’a scents Zo’ey for reassurance, taking in her mate’s briny, fresh scent, and calm pheromones. A welcome comfort, as always.

The newcomer’s sweetened scent also flows over her, and Mira’a does find herself relaxing at the honeyed smell. Her pheromones reveal stress, and fatigue, but also a sense of clarity, as if she is confident in where she is. Mira’a gives the newcomer some credit for standing tall, and proud– she is a strange looking Na’vi surrounded by those from other clans and the resistance skypeople.

Eventually Zo’ey trots back over to Mira’a, as the Sarentu and the new Na’vi make their way to the enclosed base of the resistance skypeople. Mira’a has paused in her crafting, accepting she has no focus to continue her work currently.

Zo’ey is pleased with what she has learned, and she eagerly begins to talk to Mira’a, tail raised high, swishing happily behind her. She crouches to the ground, holding Mira’a’s hand. Her ears twitch happily, while Mira’a’s prick forward in anticipation.

“She calls herself Rumi Ryu– she was an avatar driver, but then, there was an accident at one of the demon cities, oh– and now, she is awake again, but only in her avatar body! She called it a recom– ehh clone?” Zo’ey is talking rapidly, green-blue eyes alight. “The Sarentu speaks highly of her– she says that Rumi is a great skypeople warrior, and– scientist?"

Mira’a affectionately tuts at Zo’ey, to remind her to breathe and take a moment. She eyes the reef Na’vi fondly, listening fully as her heart continues to say a bit more about this.. Rumi. Who she clearly already adores, without truly knowing her.

“I have told the Sarentu we could teach her Na’vi ways. I think So’lek is helping as well,” Zo’ey continues avidly, lifting her chin.

Mira’a stiffens– not dramatically, but enough that Zo’ey watches her closely.

“Don’t be a stubborn nawkx about this. She is here to help and learn with us. She knows much about the demon skypeople– maybe even more than the Sarentu,” Zo’ay tsks lightly. “She was awake before– when Toruk Makto defeated the demons.”

“She better be a skilled learner,” Mira’a mutters, tail flicking irritatingly.

“She must be if she has lived this long in our Eywa’eveng,” Zo’ey challenges back, determined in standing up for this Rumi.

Mira’a doesn’t feel worried by this opinion Zo’ey has of the newcomer. She knows Zo’ey loves fast, and trusts others easily. It is one of her best features. Mira’a adores this about her– but also wants to protect her because of this. She cares freely for others, without asking for anything for herself.

However, as Zo’ey continues to talk more in detail with what they will be teaching Rumi, excitedly making plans, Mira’a begins to feel a fondness grow for this unknown Na’vi. She has already inspired Zo’ey with only one conversation. And if her Zo’ey is leaping headfirst into being a guide for the unknown, well than Mira’a will gladly join her in the fall, being the grounding base.

The mated pair continues to chatter back and forth with each other as the echoes and safety of their people, their world surrounds them with comfort. They do not realize the world that is opening to them with the introduction to Rumi Ryu.

Chapter Text

Rumi sits silently, focused, carefully braiding an armband for herself. Zo’ey had shown her where to find the best river stones to use as beads, and Mira’a had given an example of what pattern to use as she braided.

Rumi, at peace in the moment, surrounded by the sounds and scents of Pandora, pauses in her work to look around, ears pricked softly and bio-luminescent dots glowing. 

The great planet of Polyphemus rises high in the night sky, stars shining and alive. The moon of Polyphemus, Pandora, is in the midst of the season where it orbits closest to its planet, so these nights have been more of a dusk lighting, rather than true darkness. Pandora’s orbit in these times paints the sky with deep purples, inky blues, and glowing oranges, and fills it with frequent eclipses from the surrounding moons. It is truly breathtaking, and Rumi has found she enjoys the stillness that encircles her, as she watches the sky above.

And even in the true dark of Pandora, the bio-luminescence of the flora and fauna gives it a mythical glow. This is a world worth saving, compared to the memories she has from the human body– that give her visions of the planet Earth, which was lifeless, gray, and filled with artificial lights. She can almost taste the stale stench it would have, filled with nauseating gases and smells of human-made advanced technology.

Sometimes Rumi, the recom Rumi, still finds it unimaginable that the past Rumi, the human Rumi that she now holds the memories of, had lived on that dying planet. 

Now, after finally defecting from the RDA, she finds herself living a brand new existence– quite literally, since she is a hybrid clone of the human Avatar driver that was Rumi Ryu. 

She never thought it would be possible, after so many years of serving the humans that meant to destroy life on Pandora. Somehow, the sacrifices and the espionage she had performed on the RDA over the course of 15+ years (kind of a complicated time frame, yikes) in both the human/Avatar Rumi bodies and the recom Rumi body, have allowed her to find a new life– and hopefully become accepted among the Na’vi– finally, truly, be one of the people. 

Rumi’s first few weeks learning from the Na’vi of the western frontier were… eventful to say the least. The recom had long since been used to living on Pandora, thanks to the memories she has of the other Rumi, yet all the same it is still a learning curve when you are being taught everything from the indigenous Na’vi. 

Yes, she is familiar with the flora and fauna, thanks to the human Rumi who was a scientist– a very good scientist– from what she’s been told from humans who remember Rumi the human, and from the memories she has. 

Yes, she also knows the language fairly well, thanks to the other Rumi– though Mira’a still says she is a skxawng because her pronunciation is horrid.

If Rumi thinks she sees Mira’a’s eyes flicker with something akin to tenderness as she flicks Rumi lightly in the head when her pronunciation is bad, she keeps it to herself.

If Rumi thinks she sees Mira’a’s bio-luminescent dots glow, face soften with something akin to sorrow, when she listens to Rumi talk about the other Rumi’s life, and the past struggles of trying to take down the RDA while sending coded messages to the western frontier’s resistance, she keeps that to herself as well. 

Rumi is learning and overcoming the rigid layers Mira’a surrounds herself with. She’s getting somewhere, but that huntress is very stubborn. Similar to Rumi, actually.

Such a difference from the open, smiling face of Zo’ey. How eagerly the Na’vi jumped into teaching Rumi how to weave, especially when she saw the small pile of ripped and scarcely sewn together human-like clothing Rumi had with her, warmed Rumi’s heart immensely. 

Mira’a had given Rumi her first set of Na’vi clothes after seeing the same pile– that was a moment vividly remembered.

Rumi’s ears flick, tail swishing, as she recalls the memory. 

It was her second night with the western frontier resistance. A normal day– Mira’a and Zo’ey had taken to showing her a few spots for hunting, but mostly were introducing her to these parts of the Clouded Forest– parts even Rumi were not familiar with. 

Even with all of the RDA’s surveillance, there are hidden secrets here that only the Na’vi know of. Rumi knows this, and had been fighting against the RDA secretly for months. Years if she counted the human Rumi’s life.

She trusts the Sarentu’s judgement in allowing Zo’ey and Mira’a to be her guides and teachers for learning the Na’vi ways. 

“I once awoke after spending years asleep, away from my home, because of the destruction of the demon Sky People,” the Sarentu warrior had spoken to Rumi that first day she had met them, voice raspy. The Sarentu spoke in the human language to Rumi at this moment, very fluently. Their eyes glowed with a look that Rumi was all too familiar with–  for they too have seen and known darkness by the hands of the RDA. Seen how the humans will forcibly take, with no regard to the life of Pandora.

They continued talking, eyes flicking to where Zo’ey and Mira’a were sitting closely, eating together, “The Na’vi Clans in the Western Frontier taught me, even though I was no longer a young child. Mira’a and Zo’ey are trusted individuals. Heed their instruction well. You have much to learn in the ways of the people.”

Rumi, dismissed with a nod, had bowed her head lowly, before moving over to sit adjacent to her instructors. 

Zo’ey had greeted her with a low cluck, before pushing some fruits and dried meat over for her to eat. Her green-blue eyes glowed, and tail flicked happily, lightly hitting Mira’a and Rumi. 

“Rumi,” the reef Na’vi spoke eagerly in the Na’vi language. “Tomorrow we will start your hunting training.”

“I’ve never handled a bow,” Rumi spoke honestly, chest tight with apprehension. Her ears flicked, and she pressed her tongue to her canines, a nervous habit the former Rumi had, something that had expressed itself even in the hybrid-clone body. 

Zo’ey lightly pressed a cyan hand on her shoulder, voice soothing, “Mawey, Rumi. We will teach you everything. You are not alone in this new path.”

Rumi relaxed at the touch, leaning into it slightly, and her amber eyes flicked over to Mira’a who was looking at Rumi already, her own yellow gaze unyielding and watchful.

“If you want something other than those tsewt cloths, I have these,” Mira’a’s smooth timbre flowed to Rumi’s ears. “They should fit– I’ve loosed the strings for your build.”

Goosebumps rose on the recom’s skin as Mira’a reached forward, handing a wrapped bundle of woven waistguards and chestpieces– decorated in sleek silk and hide, made into what looked to be a design of the Kame’tire Clan who lived in the Clouded Forest, and Mira’a’s own birth Clan, the Zeswa of the Upper Plains.

“As you learn, you make your own,” Mira’a continued, voice relatively warm for how poised she had seemed with Rumi all day. Now she spoke in the human language, surprising Rumi. “These you keep.”

“Irayo,” Rumi had responded, bio-luminescent dots glowing faintly with appreciation.

Mira'a nodded in response, face cordial. Rumi continued eating quietly, sharing food with the two Na’vi. It was the first open conversation Mira’a had purposefully started with Rumi, which filled the hybrid-clone with warmth. 

The emotional connection she's experienced growing between the three of them is a novelty– Rumi has never felt this bonded to others in her life. 

Familial bonds are sacred to the Na’vi– they are a people that value emotional bonds to their people; creating deep spiritual connections to one another. 

Mira’a, taking the time to ask Rumi the most meaningful questions about her past, truly listening, yellow eyes unguarded, as Rumi slowly opens up to speak of the hardest moments in this life– and the memories she has of the past Rumi. 

Mira’a, pinching her cheeks if Rumi mixes the wrong meats together while trying to help cook a dish for them to share– Zo’ey giggling at them, tail swishing as she watches the two attempt to cook– for Zo’ey never cooked Rumi learned; she frequently burned meals. 

Zo’ey would eagerly assist Rumi with any task, goofy and understanding with every thought. A loyal, selfless being. 

Zo’ey, pulling her tail when her form is off with a bow, teasing her lightly with a sharp glance of canines flashing, eyes sparking with tantalizing depths, Mira’a watching them both with a warmness, rolling her eyes lightly.

Rumi would find herself frequently blushing in many scenarios around them– a thrum of energy lifting up through her body; she swears it itches her scars, spreading a gentle warmth throughout her body.

Rumi smiles lightly, serene in her thoughts, thinking of her two instructors. Things were going well; Rumi was.. Content, for the first time in.. well, a long time if the memories of the past Rumi give her an inclination. 

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Some time has passed; Rumi’s training is being completed at a fast pace. Every day she can run longer, faster. She learns even more of the connection between the forest and the animals, the circle of life that leads to Eywa. 

Zo’ey is leading their hunting group through the Clouded Forest– moving quickly; tracking the scent and footprints of a few syìl, or meer deer, as the skypeople call them. She is confident with every step she takes, dual blades made from slotsyal teeth firmly in her grasp as she leads the hunting party, weaving through the jungle. A short bow hangs from a pouch across her shoulders as well.

Rumi follows closely behind Zo’ey, her now calloused feet pushing her powerfully as she matches the smaller Na’vi’s pace. Without the skypeople's shoes dragging her down, it is much easier to move along the forest ground, silently. She carries a heavy bow, the weapon she would be using to hunt today. 

Mira’a is behind Rumi, a dominant, lithe hunter, whose long legs flash into Rumi’s peripheral vision every few steps, and holds a hunting spear firmly in her hand– the spear seems molded for her hand; so casually held in the Na’vi woman's grip. 

Rumi isn’t blind– she knows how attractive her two instructors are. In fact, in the weeks they have come to spend together, it has become alarmingly distracting. 

Zo’ey is unique in this landscape with her reef clan heritage– beautiful cyan skin, the clear green-blue eyes that light up in warmth, and her charming personality that drew Rumi in as if she were a Kinglor seeking pollen. 

Zo’ey who would casually stroll up to Rumi sometimes, and dance her fingertips lightly over Rumi’s body without a second thought.

Mira'a is slender, with long legs; the typical build of the Na’vi who live on land. Her dark stripes easily blend her body into the forest vegetation, shadowed, turning her into a lethal warrior and hunter. 

Mira’a who had taken upon herself to begin to braid Rumi’s hair in the ways of the Zeswa, the clan she was raised in. 

Little actions and moments from her two instructors have brought Rumi some clarity in her new position of joining the Western Frontier resistance; she had made the correct decision for herself.

A creak through the forest interrupts Rumi’s thoughts– she focuses back to see Zo’ey bring a hand up signalling them to slow beside her. 

Zo’ey tail swung behind her, ears flicked forward. Rumi can see her nose is twitching with a scent. 

Mira’a, standing in between Zo’ey and Rumi now, places a hand on Rumi’s shoulder. Her tail is raised high as she also smells the air.

“Rumi, see now if you can scent the syìl,” Mira’a says, her voice low. 

“You will take the lead now, taronyutsyì,” Zo’ey adds, smoothly.

The both are watching her, eyes dilated in the dimness that surrounds them. 

Rumi works to keep her mind focused off the intrusive thoughts of the way both Na’vi’s bio-luminescent dots are glowing, distractingly, in the darkened light. No time for that– this is a pressing manner; Rumi has to prove she is learning well. 

This will be Rumi’s first official hunt– after weeks of practice, watching as others hunt, and learning the proper ways of tracking, Mira’a and Zo’ey have decided this is the night for her to have her first hunt for the people. 

The hybrid clone lifts her chin, scenting the air. The scents of Zo’ey– a fresh, tangy scent– and Mira’a– pleasant, earthy– surround her first. 

Rumi pushes past those dainty scents, and the calming, reassuring pheromones that spread from both of her mentors. 

Rumi blinks, tail straightening as she recognizes the scent of the syìl– musky, and female if the sharpened smell she recognizes is accurate. Rumi’s ears prick forward as she pinpoints a better position of where the prey is hiding.

With a flick of her ears, she stalks forward, quietly, positioning herself in front of the syìl for better aim at the weak spots along its neck. 

Rumi doesn’t see, but Mira’a and Zo’ey watch from the shadows proudly as she draws her heavy bow, aiming securely for the perfect shot. Both Na’vi’s eyes sparkle, ears flicking forward, and they glance at each other briefly, emotions of elation and fire flashing between the two. Tails briefly tangle as they take in another look at their mentee. 

They watch as Rumi prepares to make her move, stalking forward with confidence the watching Na’vi women like to see. It tingles a sensation in the both of them– once again the mated pair share a glance. 

Rumi is focused, and takes a controlled breath.

Syìl are nervous creatues– as soon as Rumi has an opening, she must take the shot or else risk the animal to run off. She fully draws her arrow as the prey rotates into a better position for her hunt.

The prey is haphazardly looking around, trying to locate a plant to eat. Already it shows signs of being skittish; and Rumi watches as it bends over to hammer into the ground with its spade-like head. 

At that moment, Rumi releases her drawn arrow, a twang thrumming from the bowstring, echoing into a hiss as the arrow flies. The shot plunges into the prey’s weak area with perfect accuracy; hitting its mark with a dull thud. 

The syìl falls to the ground with a cry. Rumi watches for a moment, tail pricked high, ears alert, before she moves to her mark. She recalls the words that have been taught to her when gratitude after a successful hunt.

“Oel ngati kameie, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. Ngari hu Eywa saleu tìrea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì,” she speaks, voice clear and rhythmic.

Rumi carefully removes her arrow, and begins to prepare the body to be removed.

A voice sounds close by, Mira’a’s low drawl, “Well done, paskalin.”

Rumi’s ears twitch at the nickname, and she jumps when she feels a pinch on her tail.

Rumi turns to see Zo’ey’s eyes glittering at her as she prowls towards Rumi. 

“You are truly a taronyutsyì, now,”  she purrs, her canines flashing, ears pricked forward. She is crouched by Rumi’s side now, and a familiar hand goes to her waist.

Mira’a gives a light yip into the forest air, seemingly agreeing. 

Rumi feels a heat flush her body, tickling the scars that line her arms. She gulps, and her dots glow brightly throughout her body.

“Mawey, Zo’ey,” Mira’a whispers, voice a low rumble. “You are making her nervous.”

“I’m fine–,” Rumi stutters, voice a squeak. Her tail is straight as a board behind her. 

Mira’a eyes her, ears turned sideways, “Are you fine, paskalin? You look as if you just ate a sour fruit.”

Zo’ey giggles, hand on Rumi’s waist still. The hybrid is doing her best to ignore the thrumming in her body at the physical contact.

“Mmm.. I’m fine.”

Mira’a clucks, but doesn’t say anything else. Instead she pinches Zo’ey’s waist, gives her a knowing look, tail twitching, when Rumi turns to continue prepping.

Zo’ey blinks innocently back at Mira’a, but her grin is wide, gleaming and giddy. 

Mira’a only pushes Zo'ey's wild hair back with a fond smile; then lightly brushes soft fingertips over Rumi’s shoulder, beginning to whisper directions for Rumi to complete as they gather resources from her hunt.

Rumi’s skin continues to tingle, and she ignores the pressure in her body as she listens to her instructor's words, focusing on her task at hand. 

《》《》《》《》《》

The next day, the group settles around a fire to eat a small meal.

The egg fry meal, made from a roasted fruit in addition to a moonscarab egg, releases a fruity, sweet scent into the air. Rumi’s noise twitches as the mouthwatering smell spreads among them.

Zo’ey’s tail swings around, anticipating the meal. Mira’a watches her fondly; her mate practically drooling for the food. Rumi waits patiently for her bowl, ears relaxed.

Mira’a carefully fills their carved-bone bowls with the food, passing them to the other two, then taking her own. She made sure Rumi and Zo’ey have their share of food first, as it makes her pleased to watch her two be cared for. 

Mira’a watches as Zo’ey asks Rumi a few questions, eyes passing back and forth between the hybrid girl and Mira’a. Zo’ey’s ears are in a relaxed position, showing her homely nature as she easily jumps between conversations.

Eventually, the three settle into eating, a comfortable and familiar silence forming around them. Mira’a’s tail twitches as she takes this chance to ask a question that has been itching her brain since a conversation that was held with Zo’ey the day before Rumi’s first hunt. 

“Rumi, Zo’ey wants to know what skypeople do when… courting,” Mira’a’s gravelly voice startles the other two as they hound their meal down like starved creatures.

Rumi blinks, surprised. Zo’ey nearly chokes on her mouthful of food. 

Mira’a smirks at Zo’ey, reaching forward to pat her mates back. Her eyes sparkle, long tail twitching behind her in amusement. 

“Wiya!” Zo’ey calls. “Yawne, can you be any less subtle?” 

Mira’a shrugs, hand now holding Zo’ey’s waist. But her yellow eyes flick to Rumi, waiting for a response. 

Rumi nervously looks around. Her ears flick as she thinks through memories and thoughts she has from the other Rumi. 

Zo’ey, still flustered from Mira’a’s statement, attempts to keep herself from seeming overly eager while awaiting Rumi’s answer. 

Rumi collects her thoughts, taking this pause to breath deeply, attempting to appear nonchalant. She calms her flicking ears, and eases the tension she feels held in her stiff tail. She hopes her bio-luminescent dots aren’t glowing too brightly, showing her nerves; but at least the rising sun will be giving some relief to that. 

“Well, I don’t think the other Rumi had.. Much experience,” Rumi pauses, voice a gentle thrum as a face flashes through her vision. A dark haired male, someone who had been important to Rumi. “But there was one.. Male.. skyperson that she tried to.. Court.”

Rumi doesn’t see the two Na’vi share a quick glance, ears twitching as they share a silent conversation. 

“We liked.. Physical affection.. Hand holding, touching. Sometimes presenting gifts of.. fondness,”  Rumi pauses, looking to see her teachers watching her intensely, ears pricked forward earnestly. A warmth grows through Rumi at their passionate gazes.

“Having similar.. Ideas. Values; how we think about the world,” Rumi speaks a little softer, as a memory of the male and human Rumi learning about Pandora together, and promising each other to help the Na’vi in ways that went against what the RDA had been trying to teach them; to do whatever it takes to keep the RDA from hurting the planet they had grown to love.

“There was a skyperson that was.. Important to me. He and skyperson Rumi both tried to help your people, as best as possible. Before, in Toruk Makto’s first war.”

Zo’ey looks at Rumi carefully, eyes soft. Mira’a has a similar look on her face. 

Mira’a hums gently, a comfort to Rumi’s ears.

“Where is the male skyperson now?” Zo’ey’s voice is gentle; soothing. 

Rumi’s tail swings lightly on the ground. A sadness sinks her veins, slow and steady as memories of her last life fill her.

Rumi appreciates the softness from Zo’ey and Mira’a as she looks away to answer, voice tight as emotion seeks into it,

“He is dead. He died.. Same as skyperson Rumi. At the fight with Toruk Makto’s stand. At the RDA base in Eastern Pandora.”

There is a stinging in Rumi’s eyes; she sees a few other memories flash through her mind at the past life– scientist Rumi spent most of her time at Hell’s Gate on the Eastern side of Pandora, so most of the memories she has are of that RDA base. And her.. Friend had been there as well. 

There is a gentle padding as Mira’a and Zo’ey move closer to Rumi’s side. 

Zo’ey’s cyan colored four-fingered hand shows in her vision as she reaches for one of Rumi’s five-fingered hands. Her bio-luminescence glows gently.

“We didn’t mean to.. Upset you, paskalin,” Zo’ey says quietly.

Rumi’s vision is teary for a moment, ears pressed against her head. 

“I am not upset with you,” Rumi’s voice wavers. “The male skyperson was.. Special to me. I think.”

Rumi’s scars burn with a saddened heat. Mira’a and Zo’ey share another look.

“It is alright, Rumi,” Mira’a’s soothing low tone vibrates in Rumi’s ears. Her hand brushes a gentle stroke along one of Rumi’s arms. “Your skyperson is with the Great Mother now. If he helped Toruk Makto, he is an ally of the people.”

Rumi blinks up at Mira’a and Zo’ey, stalling the fall of tears on her face. 

“The Great Mother welcomes all her children,” Zo’ey whispers, voice tender. Her own eyes are filled with unshed tears as she observes Rumi’s sadness. 

Rumi glances between them both, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

“Skyperson Rumi is with the Great Mother as well,” Mira’a added, watching her mentee's reaction closely. Zo’ey squeezes the hand of Rumi that is firmly in her grasp.

Rumi’s face twitched at that, her ears flicking back with a surge of emotion. 

Zo’ey pulls Rumi closer with a tug, and the hybrid Na’vi gently folds into a small embrace. She softens at the physical contact, and Zo’ey hums, whispering little words in the Na’vi language. 

Mira’a joins in, caressing Rumi and Zo’ey both, nuzzling into each of them, wanting to give reassurances. 

Rumi’s tears fall silently; she has not felt comfort such as this in some time. In her heart, she feels seen, and loved for the first time in many years. 

Chapter Text

It was soon revealed in the weeks after Rumi’s first hunt that the next location for Rumi's teachings would be completed in the Upper Plains, among the fierce Zeswa Clan. 

Rumi had been filled with nervous anticipation when that was determined.

This would mean meeting Mira’a’s former clan mates. Mira’a assured Rumi the clan would be welcoming; especially since she was traveling with Mira’a herself, who was closely raised by the sister-leaders of the plains Clan after her parents had died at the hands of the RDA; leaving herself and her brother orphans at a young age.

A sinking dread had spread along Rumi when she had first heard of that. She.. cares.. for Mira’a, and knowing that her kind had directly been involved with the deaths of her parents had hit Rumi hard; perhaps odd since Rumi has seen so much destruction by the RDA, but it still had hurt when realizing. 

Mira'a had calmly attempted to reassure her, when she had seen Rumi's distress reflected in her flattened ears and stiff tail. 

“Rumi, the demons have touched nearly every part of our Eywa’eveng,” she had said gravely, voice low. “It is hard to find a place they have not harmed us.”

Rumi had blinked at her, seeing that Mira'a was not placing blame– just saying the truth as it was. 

“We Zeswa are proud. We are fighters. We see the worth of others. Your past with the demons will not be held against you. Your actions now make a difference.”

She had held Rumi's hand gently.

“I see my Sa’nu and Sempul with our Great Mother now. They are with her. They are with me,” Her yellow eyes showed immense depth as she blinked slowly at Rumi. “All energy must return back to Eywa; the cycle is never-ending.”

Mira’a placed Rumi's hand to her own chest, above her heartbeat, which was a soft thrum under Rumi's fingertips. 

A warmth spread through the hybrid-clone, gentle and slow growing. Rumi had no words to say back; she merely bowed her head in respect, taking Mira’a's words to heart. 

So, that was that, and it was decided. They would leave for the Upper Plains. 

Now to get there, they would need to fly. 

Rumi was not ready to bond with her own ikran yet; she still needed time to learn the truth of tsaheylu. 

She would ride as a passenger with either Zo’ey or Mira'a. 

However, that means she at least must meet their ikran, for them to recognize her scent among their bonded ones. And hopefully not want to harm her. Ikran were fiercely protective once bonded to a Na’vi.

So here is the group now– Rumi following closely behind Zo’ey and Mira'a as they lead her higher among the mountainside in the Clouded Forest, making their way to where the bonded ikran nest near the Resistance Base.

The three of them move expertly over the rocky surroundings, climbing and jumping with effort as they move farther up the mountainside. Mira’a leads them– her long legs easily pushing her farther than her two companions. 

They arrive at a plateau, where already a few bonded ikran lay lounging in the sun, the gentle rays warming their lengthy bodies. A gentle breeze flows through the area, the woody, citrus-like smell of the Clouded Forest comforting and relaxing all the same. Rumi breathes the smells in deeply, the sharp scent refreshing. Rumi’s ears twitch, and she turns to see Mira’a and Zo’ey look at her with similar fond smiles. 

Mira’a summons Rumi close with a flick of her ears, yellow eyes shining and warm. Rumi’s tail twitches as she steps closer to the red-haired Na’vi. 

“Are you ready to meet our bonded, paskalin?” 

Zo’ey is grinning at them both, canine teeth flashing, “It is time, Rumi.”

Rumi gulps, anticipating itching her skin, through her scarred arms. She raises her tail, ears flicking forward, “I’m ready.”

Zo’ey’s tail swings, hitting Rumi, and then she strolls forward, letting out a few distinctive yips that Rumi hasn’t heard her make before. 

Mira’a follows Zo’ey’s prowl, also releasing a few sharp calls into the air. The red-haired Na’vi’s tail rises high as a few shrieks of ikran sound around them. 

Rumi’s ears prick as a few whooshing sounds surround them– two ikran are circling down. 

The hybrid-clone lets out a gasp, taking a few steps forward as the two large creatures land near their bonded. This is something she’s dreamed of for ages– even human Rumi had always been amazed by the dragon-like creatures the Na’vi rode through the skies. 

The one near Mira’a lets out a shrill call, eyeing the unfamiliar presence near their bonded Na’vi.

Mira’a quickly looks to Rumi, voice clear, ears pricked forward dramatically, “Do not look in their eyes, Rumi. They will see that as a threat.” 

Rumi, who was staring unabashedly at these magnificent beasts, quickly directs her eyesight down, grunting as she takes in Mira’a’s words. Her tail twitches behind her body, ears flicking around as she hears the sounds of the ikran. 

Zo’ey is crooning at her bonded softly, and Rumi watches as she connects her kuru with the ikran, making tsaheylu. Her ikran whistles, and ruffles itself as the bond forms, strong and steady. Zo’ey herself seems to relax, lightly leaning into her ikran.

“You can come closer, paskalin,” the reef Na’vi speaks to Rumi, voice gentle. “Slowly, no sudden movements, and no touching them yet.”

Rumi glances back at Mira’a, seeing that she has also formed tsaheylu with her ikran. She is currently holding the beast's head close, lightly petting its face. Her tail swings slowly behind her. 

Rumi releases a breath, and then very carefully moves forward, focusing on not staring too hard, but still sneaking glances at the Na’vi women and their bonded.

The ikran are beautiful. Zo’ey’s has a shining gold body, with colors of bright green, purple, and light pink dashed across its leathery skin. Its snout was a blood red color.

Mira’a’s ikran has a few shades of pink as the main coloration, with purple, green, and blue highlights along its wings, back, and head. It is quite a unique color pattern Rumi hasn’t seen on the flying creatures before. 

Mira’a was talking gently to her ikran, voice low, “Mawey, Suse.”

As Rumi approaches, slowly and attentively watching the ikran, amazement filling her body with warmth, the red-haired Na’vi begins to speak. The huntress is pleased with how the introduction seems to be going.

“Ikran are mighty hunters,” Mira’a’s velvety timber speaks to Rumi. “When tsaheylu is found, ikran will fly with no other. The bond is for life.”

Mira’a’s yellow eyes stray from Suse’s eyes, to look at Rumi, whose amber eyes are wide with eagerness. 

Rumi’s ears flick forward when Mira’a easily mounts her ikran, tail swishing calmly behind her. 

Suse shrills– a sharp sound that rings in their ears, giving an example as to why the skypeople call them banshees– and flares her wings expressively when Mira’a settles into the saddle, patting her bonded’s neck. 

Zo’ey mounts her bonded as well, eyes flicking to Rumi, pleasure filling her veins as she watches the hybrid-clone glance at them with elation. 

“Tam, tam, Teyt,” Zo’ey purrs to her ikran who has started chirping. She stretches her golden wings out, wanting to fly. 

 “When will I choose my bonded?” Rumi is grinning, crouched low to the ground, her tail lifted high with admiration as she watches her instructors. 

Zo’ey shares a look with Mira’a, a thrill passing between the two. They both see the passion in Rumi’s eyes.

The reef Na’vi looks back at Rumi, voice a lilting pitch, “When you learn of tsaheylu, you will begin to be ready, taronyutsyì.”

A very vague answer, not surprising to the hybrid-clone, since she is still learning the truth of the connection of Eywa and Pandora.

Rumi smiles, and bows her head to the mated pair, her tail waving slowly behind her.

Zo’ey lets out a distinctive chirp, and Teyt leaps into the air with a sudden wing-beat. 

Mira’a yells, pulling down her visor as Suse takes off a moment after, leathery wings flapping. 

Dirt and debris is pushed into Rumi’s face, but that doesn’t stop her from observing as the two Na’vi begin to fly on their ikran.

The creatures twirl and shriek as they soar through the air, delightful shouts being heard from the riders. They bank away from each other, then curl back together with a spiral of wing flaps, as if performing a dance only the two of them speak. 

Rumi watches, skin thrumming with an affectionate presence as she yearns to join them. Her scars tickle gently, ears constantly pricked as she works to catch every sound that escapes from the Na’vi women and their ikran.

The hybrid-clone knows at this moment, she is meant to be up there, flying with them, matching her own flying dance to connect with them as well.

《》《》《》《》《》

Traveling to the Upper plains had been exhilarating. Rumi had ridden with Zo’ey, arms wrapped around the waist of the other Na’vi the whole flight. 

Zo’ey’s soft, briny scent itched Rumi’s nose the entire time, a tickling sensation that brought comfort to the hybrid-clone. Rumi’s honeyed scent had warmed Zo’ey in the best way, the sweetened smell filling Zo’ey with a calmness normally only reserved for Mira’a. 

Mira’a led them, her Suse flying with a nimble grace through the familiar skies. Teyt frequently shrilled at her companion, the kinship between the two ikran evident. Familial bonds ran deep, even in these predatory creatures of Pandora.  

Zo’ey wasn’t letting Teyt be as wild as the ikran would like. The golden-skinned creature wanted to twirl and dive; wanted to engage Suse into a race. She would occasionally buck in the sky, showing her energy through their bond. 

The reef Na’vi could tell that Rumi was at ease in the sky; she easily adjusted her body to match Zo’ey with every movement of Teyt’s, and when Zo’ey would glance back to look at her, the hybrid-clone’s face was one of pure joy.

Still, Zo’ey was concerned in being overzealous for Rumi’s first flight. Though Rumi had no similar mindset. 

“Fly faster, Zo’ey,” Rumi had whispered in Zo’ey’s ear at one point, her canine teeth tickling Zo’ey’s skin, causing the reef Na’vi to shiver with delight. 

Zo’ey had urged Teyt to pass Suse with a single thought, and her eager ikran had tucked its wings, bringing them down into a speedy descent. 

Rumi shouted at the sudden change of altitude, hands tightening their grip on Zo’ey’s waist. Zo’ey’s skin warmed under the touch, and she yipped in delight as the ground spiraled closer to them. Zo’ey’s ears flicked when she heard Mira’a chirp at them, and a roar from Suse.

The reef Na’vi leveled out her bonded with ease, Teyt easily adjusting her wing flaps to allow them to soar gracefully through the air. Rumi relaxed behind Zo’ey, a sharp laugh echoing from the hybrid-clones body. Zo’ey turns around to see exhilaration burning in Rumi’s amber eyes. Zo’ey giggles as well, Rumi’s contagious glee sinking to Zo’ey’s reflection. 

Suse whistled, gliding closer to Teyt, their wings almost touching. 

“Zo’ey! Tsahey, we said we would be calm! Rumi was about to fly off into the air, forgotten!” Mira’a yelled, though her eyes were crinkled with fond exasperation as she gazed at the other two, shaking her head. 

“She wanted to go faster! She was teasing me, whispering into my neck all these words,” Zo’ey declares, one arm moving in the air as she speaks. 

Rumi snorts, and pinches Zo’ey’s back. Zo’ey yelps in response, trying to swat Rumi’s hand away without knocking her off. Teyt shrills, lightly throwing herself in the air, gold wings flaring. Rumi’s grip tightens around Zo’ey once more, her ears flicking as she glances between her two mentors. 

“I did ask for it, Mira’a,” Rumi’s honeyed voice says, eyes glistening with mischief. 

Mira’a narrows her eyes, tail twitching lightly behind her body. Her red hair flows behind her body, braids in the fashion of the Zeswa Clan framing her face, her flying visor hiding a bit of her unyielding yellow gaze.    

Zo’ey and Rumi have an equal amount of thrill run through their veins at the taller Na’vi’s look. 

Suse shrills, banking even closer to Teyt. 

“Try asking for it less, paskalin. We need you standing on your own two feet to meet the mighty Zeswa,” Mira’a drawls, voice low. “Let you not look yayma.”

Rumi flushes, blue skin turning a purplish hue in her cheeks. Her scars burn lightly with warmth. Zo’ey sniggers lightly, ears pricked forward. 

She purrs a complement to Rumi, who flushes even more, her honeyed scent layered with a pungent aroma that has both Zo’ey and Mira’a tingling. Mira’a smirks in their direction, face lifted in confidence. 

The red-haired huntress yips to gather Zo’ey’s attention, then directs them to follow her once more towards the Upper Plains. Suse whistles, and curves her pink wings in the air, directing them in their flight. 

Zo’ey whispers reassurance to her ikran, and Rumi secures her arms around the reef Na’vi once more. 

The hybrid-clone does her best to calm her tingling nerves, while the other two Na’vi work to keep their expressions nonchalant, even as they scent the heightened energy from Rumi.

If they share a heated glance between each other, Rumi doesn't take notice. 

《》《》《》《》《》

The home of the Zeswa Clan, called The Circle, is located south of the Greatheart Lake. It is built with tents, fashioned to be packed up and moveable when the migration of their companions starts once more. Those companions are zakru. Immense, peaceful creatures. 

The Zeswa live in complete symbiosis with these animals. They make food and alcoholic beverages from the zakru milk, and shelter among them as the herd of zakru rest. The tents are made from zakru wool; a warm and soft, fluffy texture. 

The emotional connection between the sentient beings and the Zeswa members is the most sacred aspect of this clan's life. To have the protection and guidance of these intelligent creatures is what makes the mighty Zeswa Clan so unique.

Mira’a had introduced Rumi to her first zakru shortly before they arrived at The Circle, to meet with the Zeswa clan leaders.

They are flying through the immense skies, and Rumi is amazed by the endless grasslands and rolling terrain of the Upper Plains. The common trees found in this landscape dot the surface. The crimson red color of the Blood Leaf Trees is easily visible, and the unique slanted growth pattern of the Windbent Trees being the most obvious to Rumi’s eyes. This isn’t the first Rumi has seen the stunning plainsland– but it is a new perspective seeing it in the air, upon the back of ikran compared to being strapped inside one of the RDA’s flying ships, or patrolling on the ground with AMP suits as her companions. 

Zo’ey points out to Rumi that they are approaching the northern part of Greatheart Lake. Her tail lightly hits Rumi as she speaks.

“Why are we approaching the lake from this end?” Rumi asks, confused. “Is it not faster to cut across the land more to an arrival to The Circle?”

Zo’ey grins at her, canines flashing, her green-blue eyes sparkling, “Mira’a wants to introduce you to someone. A good friend.”

Rumi goes to question more, but Mira’a distinctive yip gathers the attention of both Na’vi. Rumi’s tail twitches, and Zo’ey’s ears prick forward to listen to her. 

Mira’a calls to them from her ikran, signaling Zo’ey to follow her as they spiral down gently to land. Teyt whistles, curving her wings to mirror Suse– Rumi’s hold stays firm on Zo’ey’s waist as her stomach flips briefly. 

They are flying towards a large creature ambling around on the ground. Rumi’s tail twitches as she realizes it's a lone zakru. 

The ikran roar as they land, wings settling on the ground for the riders to dismount. A bellow is heard, echoing close by– the zakru has spotted them. Rumi and Zo’ey dismount one at a time. Mira’a has already started walking towards the zakru. Rumi’s ears prick as she recognizes Mira’a’s low timber speaking gently to the massive creature. Rumi hesitates to follow, and Zo’ey guides her forward with a tug on her hand.

Zo’ey smiles at her briefly, green-blue eyes glowing, and squeezes Rumi’s hand in a form of reassurance. Rumi smiles lightly back, tail swishing behind her. 

“Za’, za’ taronyutsyì. This is Mira’a’s friend,” Zo’ey’s voice is a soothing melody. With another squeeze of encouragement, Rumi follows close behind the reef Na’vi, her tail twitching with anticipation behind her, eyes pricked forward with curiosity. 

The zakru is even larger than Rumi had imagined. A towering crest rises above its large head, frilled and boney. Curved horns shape around its eyes, turning into tusks, to give protection. As it steps forward, Rumi can feel soft vibrations echoing through the ground due to the weight of this creature.

The zakru’s yellow eyes are watching Mira’a closely, blinking and rumbling at her. The creature's trunk has reached forward to the red-haired Na’vi, blowing a soft gush of air over her body. Rumi watches, amazed as Mira’a places a hand forward for the zakru to sniff.  

“Frawz, ‘eyla,” Mira’a speaks, voice smooth. “I have a new friend. Can you meet her?”

The zakru trumpets lightly, warmth in its eyes as it looks at Mira’a. Mira’a turns towards Rumi, beckoning her closer with a wave of her hand, tail raised behind her. Her gaze is jovial, smile wide and relaxed. 

Zo’ey pulls Rumi forward once more, speaking lightly to the watching zakru. She raises a hand to stroke its trunk as it lifts towards them, her eyes delighted by the attention from the magnificent zakru. 

“Rumi,” Mira’a breathes, voice as light as Rumi has ever heard it. “This is Kapukan. He has been my friend for many years, since my parents returned to Eywa.”

Kapukan turns his great head closer to Rumi, rumbling once more, a deep echoing sound vibrating in her ears and through her body. Rumi’s tail twitches as she makes eye contact with the animal, a deep knowing gaze matching her own.

Zo’ey still has one of Rumi’s hands in her grasp, so Rumi slowly raises the palm up of her free one. Kapukan lifts his trunk to her skin, a huff of warm air spreading along her body as he scents her. He smells earthy, similar to Mira’a in a way. Rumi looks closer at him, seeing the decoration of paint that is layered on his leathery skin and horns. The Zeswa keep the zakru painted, as a way of bonding and celebration. Painting them is a part of the clan’s culture, and marks the close connection they have with these peaceful creatures.

“Why is he alone?” Rumi asks, voice soft, palm warming under Kapukan’s body heat.

Mira’a pets the other side of Kapukan gently, eyes soft as she looks at her friend. Rumi’s body thrums, scars itching softly as she sees the red-haired Na’vi look so joyous being around this zakru. 

“Kapukan chooses to live alone. Some zakru do, and that is not a problem. The Zeswa keep eyes on every zakru. No one is left behind.”

Kapukan trumpets lightly, yellow eyes back on Mira’a. He lifts his trunk to touch Mira’a once more. She closes her eyes, nuzzling into Kapukan’s caring caress. 

Rumi watches, amazed at the gentleness of the creature. She looks at Zo'ey, who is humming lightly, ears pricked forward as she also looks over at Mira’a and Kapukan. 

Zo’ey smiles at Rumi, a strong emotion in her eyes, “They always remind me of tulkun.”

Rumi knows the whale-like tulkuns are sacred to reef Na’vi clans. Each Na’vi bonds with an individual tulkun, forming a familial-like connection with the mighty creatures of the sea. The bond is spiritual, and each connection is unique between the Na'vi and tulkun. 

Zo’ey has vaguely talked about the tulkun that were her clan's chosen spirit brothers and sisters, but never given much information, a sad look always crossing her face if she talks too deeply of them.

Rumi hasn’t ever asked much, but she figures Zo’ey must have bonded with one at some point– she has a tattoo across her back, connecting to each shoulder, as proof that she did complete her iknimaya, or at least parts of it. 

“Do you miss the tulkun?” Rumi’s ears flick forward, looking closely at Zo’ey’s reaction. 

Zo’ey sighs, her tail lowering. She squeezes Rumi’s hand that she is still holding. 

When she speaks, her voice is layered, sadness leaking in, “I miss them everyday, always." 

Mira’a is watching them speak, her own eyes mournful as she listens to Zo’ey. She doesn’t interrupt, for if Zo’ey wishes to share this information with Rumi, it is her choice. 

Zo’ey’s eyes flash with grief, as she continues to talk towards Rumi, “I had a spirit sister, once.”

She looks to Rumi softly, and Rumi squeezes her hand, trying to show sympathy for the pain that is reflected through Zo’ey. Rumi is sure that if the sky was darkened, both their bio-luminescent dots would be shining with emotion. 

“Her name was Ìmana,” Zo’ey blinks her eyes, tears filling them. “We sang together, and would dance through the ocean.”

Zoey hesitated, voice saddened, “She is with Eywa, from an attack from the demons.”

Rumi is not surprised by that admission. The acknowledgement of the RDA’s darkness still burns through her body, her scars hot under her skin. 

Rumi forces herself to focus on Zo’ey's next words; very rarely does she open up this much about her past. 

“It was after we completed the iknimaya. I left my clan, as you know. I couldn’t stand to be around the reefs, when my people didn’t want to fight for what was lost. I was so angry,” Zo’ey’s voice breaks, and Mira’a reaches a hand forward to gently stroke her mate's shoulder. “The reef clans are pacifists; they do not agree with war, and violence. Violence is against the tulkun way.” 

Zo’ey takes a ragged breath, closing her eyes, and her ears have flattened against her head in sadness. A heaviness sits in the air as she speaks of that darkened time of her life. 

When she continues speaking, a tear slides down her cyan cheek, “I miss them, always. And I will return one day, to see them once again. I am not so angry anymore.”

“We can return together,” Rumi says, her own voice emotional. Zo’ey has lost things just as Rumi and Mira’a have. But the bond they have will be what keeps them centered. 

Mira’a makes a noise of agreement, her hand moving to wipe Zo’ey’s tears. She speaks gentle words to her mate. Kapukan rumbles, his trunk patting over Zo’ey’s wild curls, eyes blinking at her. 

Zo’ey’s eyes flash between them, a gratefulness filling them. 

“Oeyä aysawntu,” her voice is still soft, eyes saddened, but her ears have pricked forward in more of a relaxed state. Her tail flicks side to side, hitting both Rumi and Mira’a gently. “I would be honored to show you the reefs one day.”

Mira’a hums gently in agreement, a hand holding Zo’ey’s cheek in consolation. Rumi squeezes the hand that is still in her grasp, a simple solace for Zo’ey. 

She would follow Zo’ey and Mira’a anywhere, she decides, closing her eyes as the gentle trumpets of Kapukan reverberate around them in comfort. 

《》《》《》《》《》

Rumi’s training among the Zeswa began with the day they arrived to the clan. The sister leaders, Nesim and Minang, welcome the trio happily, some teasing remarks made Rumi’s way. Mira’a’s status within the clan helps with the adjustment of the hybrid-clone among the people.

It is a new day, and Rumi is preparing to enact her first bonding with a direhorse, or pa’li, as the Na’vi call them.

She stands among a grassland field, a gentle breeze blowing by them, the lighter scent of blooming wildflowers around them. The rustling of the grasses waving in the wind is a calming sound.

“Start the bond gently,” Mira’a speaks to Rumi, voice low. 

Rumi’s tail quivers with anticipation, but Mira’a’s company gives some reassurance. 

Rumi knows one of the reasons they came to the Upper Plains is for her to have her first tsaheylu with a direhorse. Rumi might be dreading that a bit– she’s no horsewomen. 

But as Mira’a has repeatedly told her– tail flicking, eyes watching Rumi sharply as she explains in that confident low voice she has– the best way to move along the land of the Upper Plains when not flying, is upon the back of the horses of Pandora. And besides, Rumi needed to make the bond with a pa’li, so one day she could bond with an ikran. 

Mira’a holds a pa’li with a twine rope, her other hand on Rumi’s shoulder. Her yellow eyes have been unguarded, expressive, with Rumi this entire time as she speaks of what the bond should feel like, of how it will present itself.

Zo’ey is near as well, bonded with another pa’li already, sitting astride it, her ears pricked forward as she watches.

“This is Syah,” Mira’a tells Rumi the pa’li’s name. “She is familiar with the bond, and a seasoned mount.”

Mira’a takes one of Rumi’s hands, and carefully, lightly, presses the hand onto Syah’s sturdy skin. 

The pa’li snorts underneath the touch, her gills exhaling the breaths she takes. 

“Feel her, taronyutsyì,” Zoey speaks, voice soft as she moves her pa’li closer. 

Rumi’s tail quivers behind her, her stomach flipping with nerves. Mira’a scents the queasy energy from Rumi, and steps closer to her, chest faintly pressing against Rumi’s back.

Rumi nearly drops to her knees at that. She brings herself ramrod straight, pulse quickening at the contact from Mira’a. Her tail stiffens, straight in the air. 

Unseen to Rumi, Mira’a and Zo’ey share a glance at her reaction– canines flashing as they grin at each other. Then Zo’ey tuts quietly at Mira’a, implying she should settle the teasing. 

“Breathe Rumi,” Zo’ey says, focusing on the hybrid Na’vi. Her voice is caring as she explains the connection of the bond, “Tsaheylu goes beyond simple communication. You will feel many elements with the bond.”

Rumi takes a deep breath, Syah watching her with beady eyes. It’s kuru– the appendage that creatures of Pandora create the bond with– reaches out to poke Rumi. 

Mira’a has stepped back slightly, lightening her touch on the hybrid-clone, though her hand is still holding Rumi’s on Syah. Rumi’s scars lightly itch from the warmth under her skin. Mira’a’s tail waves slowly behind her, her ears relaxed as she instructs Rumi. 

Her voice’s timber calms the fluttery nerves in Rumi’s body.

“Calm your mind, and gently connect the bond.”

Rumi nods her head, breathing deeply once more, centering herself around the Pandora life that surrounds her. Mira’a and Zo’ey– their calm, supportive companionship. The sweetened, earthy scent of the upper plains– a gentle breeze, constantly flowing over the grasslands. The chirps and buzzing of other creatures around them. 

Rumi reaches forward for Syah’s kuru, breaking the hand-hold she is in with Mira’a. She runs her opposite hand down her long, dark-colored braid, grasping her own kuru. The tendrils of her kuru reach out, looking for a connection. The tendrils from Syah’s kuru are moving in a similar manner as it also searches for a link. Rumi’s tail flicks nervously behind her, as she looks at the mirroring appendages. This simple body structure grants a neural connection for the life forms of Pandora– the kurus function is central to Na’vi culture, and even survival. The previous Avatar Rumi was never given a chance to connect with her kuru. This was another first for Rumi's new life.

The hybrid-clone flashes a look to Mira’a who nods in encouragement, tail lifting behind her. Zo’ey’s ears prick forward with attentiveness as Rumi touches her kuru with Syah’s. 

The bond is immediate; an element of connection Rumi has never felt before. Syah’s thoughts, feelings, everything is flowing through the connection, and all of Rumi is reflected into Syah as well. Rumi’s ears flatten back at the change, eyes dilating as she feels Syah’s breath, her heartbeat. 

“That’s it, taronyutsyì,” Zo’ey purrs. “Accept the bond. Listen to her heartbeat, feel her strong legs.”

Syah’s legs stomps on the ground– hoofbeats reverberating through the soil. Rumi’s tail twitches as the strength of the pa’li’s pours through her. 

Syah’s small eyes blink at her, also dilated in a similar manner as Rumi. Rumi breathes deeply herself, running a hand over the hide of the pa’li.

“Are you ready to mount?” Mira’a’s hands move softly over Rumi’s back, rising to her shoulders, before moving down to her waist, where she faintly squeezes her. Rumi fights back a shiver under the touch, while Syah snorts when sensing the effect through the bond. 

Rumi nods, and Mira’a crouches, giving her a boost with a quick arm thrust. The hybrid-clone lands fairly gracefully onto Syah’s back, only slightly unbalanced. Syah throws her head lightly, and Rumi adjusts her seat. Mira’a’s long fingers untie the twine rope that was on Syah, freeing her. 

Rumi senses a trickle of awareness through her body, an unfamiliar yet comforting presence that seemed to be looking through the connection. It was Syah, waiting for her, searching for guidance through the bond. 

Trust-Rider-Direct.

Simple thoughts from the bond flow to Rumi from the pa’li. Her ears twitch as she familiarizes herself with the connection that has formed. 

“Eventually, you will speak through the bond in your mind,” Zo’ey has directed her pa’li to stand next to Rumi and Syah. The two creatures reach out their narrow noses to touch each other, recognizing each other’s scent. “For now, speak aloud. She will listen, with guidance from her rider.”

Rumi swallows, tail raised behind her. Her stomach flips, and Syah tosses her head, stomps her legs as the nervous energy from Rumi flows through the bond. 

“Breathe Rumi,” Mira’a instructs, her low voice soothing to Rumi’s ears. “You are ready for this, paskalin. Trust the bond, believe in yourself and Syah as we believe in you.”

Mira’a places a hand on Rumi’s thigh, squeezing lightly. Her ears are flicked forward, and her yellow eyes are unguarded and open. Rumi can see the pride she has as she watches Rumi– and the hybrid-clone knows if she looked to Zo’ey, a similar look would be in her eyes as well. 

She is right to say those words to Rumi– for that is all Rumi needs to hear. We believe in you.

Rumi believes in Mira’a and Zo’ey just as much as they do her; she trusts them and the teachings they have given her. The time they have taken to teach Rumi everything of their Pandora, their culture, means the most to Rumi. 

And Rumi knows she is ready for this– already, the bond with Syah seems to be one of the most natural experiences she’s had in this life.

Rumi breathes deeply once more, holding the air in her body before releasing it slowly. She focuses on the echo of Syah’s heartbeat that is ringing through her, she listens to the movement of Syah’s legs as they stomp on the ground. Syah, sensing the exploration Rumi is undertaking through the bond, seemingly opens the channel between them even wider– releasing an overflow of feelings and thoughts to Rumi.

Excitement-Rider-Run. Trust-Rider-Run.

Rumi’s ears flicker, and her voice is raspy as she directs Syah for the first time, “Walk forward, Syah.”

The pa’li tosses her head, and begins a powerful walk. Her steps falter when Rumi slides slightly at the movement, surprised by the swing of her gait.

“I’m ok, walk on,” Rumi speaks, fixing her posture. She sits tall, only placing her hands on Syah’s neck for some support. Syah snorts, but continues walking once more, though Rumi can sense the pa’li watching her carefully through the bond. Rumi does her best to keep her thoughts under control, and trusting the bond that has settled between them, a low thrumming of energy and thoughts surrounding her mind. 

Rumi continues to walk around Mira’a and Zo’ey, gaining confidence with every moment she is bonded to Syah. They circle around her instructors, they walk away and return. Eventually Rumi grows to be assured enough to increase their speed.

“Your balance will be a challenge at first, Syah will do her best to keep you with her,” Zo’ey’s light voice speaks, smooth. “Move with her body, do not fight the movement of her speed.”

Mira’a adds a few other tips as well; talking again of trusting the bond. Rumi observes a difference with Syah already– she is easily sensing what the pa’li is thinking, and Syah is seemingly anticipating Rumi’s thoughts as well. Rumi can perceive the pa’li is enjoying her company through the bond. Good thing– Rumi would’ve been disappointed with herself if Syah thought she was a skxawng. 

With some time, Rumi is directing Syah around like second nature. Zo’ey and Mira’a are pleased, sharing intense glances with each other when Rumi isn’t looking, canine teeth flashing. 

When Rumi does turn to look at them, her own canines pointing sharply in her wide smile, they eagerly call out a cheer for her, yipping proudly as their ears flick.  

Rumi is filled with an earnest warmth every time they yell for her, her scars itching faintly under her skin. Their approval and praise brings a passion to Rumi; one she can’t describe quite yet. 

Eventually the sky begins to darken as the eclipse begins to set in. By now shadows are spreading over the grasslands, and the earthy smells of the Upper Plains are spread around them with the strong gales. 

Rumi is confident now– she and Syah are comfortable in the bond, and she has even begun to think the commands instead of saying them aloud. The pa’li has been a worthy teacher and mount, giving Rumi time to learn. 

Syah is circling back to the other two Na’vi, Rumi directing her with ease through the bond. She holds on to one of Syah’s kuru, giving some balance to herself. Syah is listening to Rumi’s thoughts– but Rumi can also sense she is a bit distracted. Her head keeps flipping to their right side, watching a group of un-bonded pa’li romp around– legs kicking high into the air, rearing at each other playfully.

Run-Fast-Play.

Rumi can sense Syah wants to have a bit of fun, and who is she to stop her? A thrill lights in her veins, and she urges Syah to trot in a circle around her two teachers.  

The hybrid-clone glances over to Mira’a and Zo’ey, her voice a challenge, her eyes alight with excitement, “Let’s race before the eclipse sets in!” Her ears are pricked forward, tail raised with elation. 

Mira’a and Zo’ey are watching her fondly on their own pa’li, ears tipped to the side in a state of relaxation. They share a look, tails twitching behind them.

“Are you sure taronyutsyì? This has been much riding for you,” Zo’ey questions, though her eyes are sparkling with mischief. “Perhaps save a race for another ride.”

Zo’ey is right to say that– Rumi can sense the soreness in her muscles already– she knows tomorrow she will need some rest, if Mira’a and Zo’ey allow it. Rumi’s amber eyes flash over to see what Mira’a has to say. 

Mira’a’s yellow eyes are narrowed. “Let us not forget I was raised on these plains, paskalin. Don’t think you will best me quite yet,” her low voice drawls, teasing. 

Rumi looks around, spotting a windbent tree not too far away. Her ears flick back, a grin spreading along her face. 

“Race you to the windbent tree!” Rumi yells, laughing, and yips– urging Syah forward. She gives Mira’a and Zo’ey no chance to answer, taking their hesitance as a chance to run ahead. 

Syah snorts, and takes off to a gallop, kicking out with her hind legs in excitement. Rumi loses balance for one moment, thinking– OH SHIT– but Syah is listening to her– tsaheylu full and steady between them, an emotional tie connecting them– and easily adjusts her striding, centering Rumi on her back once more, before taking off in an even-paced gallop.

Syah’s breathing echoes through the bond, the exhales of her body causing a swishing sound around them. Rumi focuses on her heartbeat, steading herself with Syah through her mind. 

Hoofbeats are heard behind her, pounding on the grasslands as Mira’a and Zo’ey catch up. Rumi can see them in her peripheral vision, one approaching on each side. 

Zo’ey is laughing wildly, yipping in excitement. Her young, playful, pal’i mount is throwing his head and kicking out, showing his novice age in the goofy antics.

“RUMI you cheated!” Mira’a’s rumbled voice calls out, also yipping at her mount. She is slightly ahead of Zo’ey, and quickly gaining ground on Rumi. The pa’li she is riding is moving over the land swiftly, her legs showing off a powerful stride with every step. 

Her mount is an older, experienced pa’li, a matured female who has lived many days– and joined many fights– with the Zeswa. And like Mira’a said, she was raised on the Upper Plains. 

Her red hair flows behind her as she inches closer to Rumi, yellow eyes turned to look at her, teeth flashing. 

“This is the best you can do, paskalin?!” Her voice is teasing, and she laughs as their pa’li race eye-to-eye. 

Rumi grins in response, a giggle building through her. She is lost in the twinkle that is seen in Mira’a’s eyes for a moment– the unguarded, unbound freedom the Na’vi woman is feeling. 

Mira’a darts past Rumi within the next moment, calling out as her pa’li neighs as well.

Zo’ey has caught up on her other side, her mount focusing a bit more now that he realizes it is a race. The young pa’li snorts with every stride, head tossing with excitement. Zo’ey has been laughing– Rumi can see a flush throughout her cyan skin.

“Rumi! We have to catch Mira’a!” Her eyes are sparkling, a gleaming green-blue. Zo’ey is smiling brightly, and Rumi’s heart races from more than just the run they are on– Syah snorts in response, head flicking. 

“Hell yeah!” Rumi cheers, the human words slipping past her lips. Zo’ey laughs, hearing the unfamiliar words. Rumi yips, and Syah pushes forward with another burst of energy. Zo’ey is clucking to her mount, and the two share a heated look, eyes burning. 

They chase after Mira’a, the friendly competition igniting a fire between all three of them. The three are joyous, satisfied with the company of each other. As the eclipse settles over the land, the darkened land shows the bio-luminescent life of Pandora as it begins to glow. The patterns are reflected on the pa’li, and the three Na’vi’s dots shimmer as well, from the darkened sky and emotions flowing freely through them. 

《》《》《》《》《》

Sometime later, when Rumi’s training in the Upper Plains comes to a close, the Zeswa Clan throws a celebration to mark her success among the clan. The Zeswa are boisterous people, and will always take advantage of any chance to have a festivity for the clan to gather for. 

Zangke, a fiery fermented drink made from zakru milk and herbs, is spread among the people of age to enjoy. It is a time for relaxation among the clan; of enjoyment and unity.

The tsahìk Minang and olo’eykte Nesim, leaders of the Clan, proudly stand at the head of a large campfire. A few other warriors stand by their sides, loyal guardians of the ruling sisters. They act as sentinels equal to the zakru, ever watchful over the clan, keeping watch as protection. 

The slumbering forms of the zakru are scattered around, creating the shape of the Zeswa’s camp. Jumping shadows are formed from the fire reflecting off the sleeping creatures, and the hanging tents that are attached to the zakru give shelter to any who want a break from the fire’s heat. 

The fire spreads a hazy scent among the people, mixed with the smells of charred meat and mushrooms– in a separate fire pit there is a huru– a clay cooking pot– holding a stew, where two Na’vi are delicately stirring and mixing herbs into the meal that will be shared with the entire clan. 

Rumi, Mira’a, and Zo’ey sit close together near the main fire. Zo’ey has an arm draped over Rumi’s back– holding her close, pressing light touches over her dotted skin, while Rumi is flushed at the attention she is receiving. Zo’ey’s tail is calmly swishing behind her, while Rumi’s twitches erratically every few touches from Zo’ey. Their gazes cross paths every few moments as they share words, Rumi’s fierce amber eyes peering into the green-blue orbs of Zo’ey’s with complete attention. 

Mira’a watches them both fondly, quiet as she observes but just as enthralled with the two as she ever is. Her yellow eyes are warm, open, and her own tail lays relaxed on the ground behind her. Occasionally she reaches out a hand to brush Zo’ey’s wild curls, or touch Rumi’s shoulder. When she does, the two melt into her touch eagerly, ears flicking in relaxation.

The three of them enjoy the company of each other, a comfortable familiarity growing between them. The time spent in the Upper Plains has created an even closer bond to each other than first expected. Mira’a and Zoey have an undeniable fondness for the hybrid-clone, and Rumi is immensely captivated by the Na’vi pair– more so than she has been with anyone else. The three can sense a change in each other's presence, the need to want more from one another– but the time has not come yet. 

Some time passes at this celebration, and the fire continues to burn. Na’vi continue to trade stories; share drinks and food. The stars shine brightly in the sky, showing the truth of the immense skies of the Upper Plains. Endless night sky, always twinkling, open and free. 

As they eat the stew, Mira’a brings over two jugs of zangke, and a few small wood-carved glasses for the three of them to share. She makes them each a glass, giving Rumi a watered down version that is brewed less. Rumi sniffs at the fermented drink, nose wrinkling at the potent smoky scent. Mira’a clucks, face flushed with fondness at Rumi’s perturbed face. 

Zo’ey downs her offering with a quick gulp, slamming her cup down with a yip and grinning at the other two– while Mira’a lightly sips on hers, the toasted taste tickling her lips. Mira’a looks over to Rumi, who is still holding her cup, eyeing it warily.

“Paskalin, take a gentle sip. It is a delightful drink– shared with us by the zakru,” Mira’a’s low timber rolls through the air, a smooth quality to it. “That one is not strong. It is only lightly fermented.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it Rumi,” Zo’ey adds as she leans closer to Mira’a, hand holding her waist as she goes to take a drink from her mate’s cup. Mira’a swats her hand away, fondly grumbling at Zo’ey– but allows her to take a sip anyway. Their tails tangle briefly as they swish around– bio-luminescent dots glow along their toned bodies, and ears relaxed from the cozy environment that surrounds them. 

Rumi sighs, still suspiciously looking at the zangke as she takes a gulp. The heat is numbing, a tingling sensation hitting the back of her throat. Rumi presses her tongue to her canine teeth, the taste burning her lips a bit as well– the fiery herbs they use when fermenting the drink layer it in a lingering warmth. The hybrid-clone’s dots shine as a result of the sharp taste, her eyes watering a bit. 

Rumi looks at Mira’a and Zo’ey, who are ogling her openly, their eyes dilated.

“You call this lightly fermented? Wiya, what is the strong one like then?” Rumi questions, wiping her eyes. 

Zo’ey giggles, the sound light to the other two pairs of ears, “You want to try the strong one? Take a sip from Mira’a.” Her ears tilt sideways, and she thumps her shoulder to Mira’a’s lightly. 

Rumi sniffs, scenting Mira’a’s drink from where she sits. The smell immediately burns her nose, and she sneezes. 

“Keep that away from me!” Rumi shoos Mira’a’s offered hand, eyes watering again. 

Mira’a clucks, eyes warm and teasing, “Zo’ey, we must remember only simple zangke for our paskalin.”

Zo’ey tuts in agreement, instead handing a new cup of the lighter zangke to Rumi. The hybrid-clone’s ears twitch, and she drinks this cup with as much elegance as possible, despite the beverage still burning her throat. 

Zo’ey and Mira’a laugh lightly at her pinched face, but Rumi sees nothing but affection and loyalty in their gazes, which spreads a cheerfulness through her body. Her tail swings, and ears flicker as she joins them with a chuckle as well. 

In the next moment, a Zeswa warrior prowls over to their group, engaging Mira’a in a conversation. Rumi catches a bit of the words, missing some since they are speaking so fast– but she understands that he is asking Mira’a to join in a round of dance-fighting. 

Mira’a’s yellow eyes flash to Zo’ey and Rumi, inquiring if they’d be alright on their own.

“Yawntu, go enjoy yourself. We will come watch,” Zo’ey says to her mate, lightly brushing a hand over her red hair. 

Zo’ey and Rumi follow as Mira’a is pulled away by her clanmate, Rumi intrigued to witness this ritual. 

Dance-fighting is a hand-to-hand tradition unique to the Zeswa clan. It is sometimes used as a way to resolve disputes as well as being a friendly competition in celebrations. 

Zo’ey begins to talk quietly to Rumi as they come to a stop, crouching outside of the dancer’s ring that is set up across from the burning fire. 

“Mira’a is a very good dance-fighter. One of the best in the clan,” her dots glow brightly as she speaks of her mate, green-blue eyes bright. The fire dances across her cyan face, causing Rumi to stare, focused on her beauty in that moment. 

A yip sounds, and Na’vi begin to cheer. Rumi turns to look at Mira’a, watching as the tall Na’vi begins to settle in a low stance, opposite of the male Na’vi that had asked her to join. Shadows dance over Mira’a’s slender legs, emphasizing the muscle. Her red hair is braided in the Zeswa way, tightly raised on her head, and her kuru flashes, a long braid flowing behind her. 

Rumi looks at Zo’ey next– the reef Na’vi is holding one of Rumi’s hands, clutching it close to her chest. Rumi can sense a light pulse of her heartbeat under her hand. Zo’ey lets out a few cheers herself, dimples showing on her cheeks as she yips Mira’a’s name. Her black hair is braided over her brow, and then free curls lay over her shoulders, silky to touch. 

Rumi turns back to the dance-fighting as loud calls fill the air. Mira’a has made a startling move– her arms flashing as she tugs her opponent forward before twisting them away, her body shifting in reflection, an opposite turn from the other Na’vi. 

It truly does look like a dance, even as their arms trade glancing blows, and their bodies turn and react to each position change. Mira’a’s tail lashes behind her, alight with passion. Her opposing Na’vi hisses as he tumbles to the ground, turning it into a dodge when Mira’a jumps towards him. Mira’a hisses in return, though her eyes show a glee as the Na’vi dance away from each other once more. 

Rumi finds herself yipping along with the others at Mira’a’s next charge towards her opponent. Zo’ey tugs her closer, releasing the hand she holds and instead grabbing her waist. Rumi’s body thrums at the touch, scars itching and her bio-luminescence shining brightly. Her tail swishes behind her, glancing along Zo’ey’s body. 

Rumi turns her amber gaze to see Zo’ey already watching her. Zo’ey grins, canines showing.

Zo’ey has been given another glass of zangke, and after taking a gulp, she pushes the cup towards Rumi, her eyes alight with mischief, and ears pricked forward. 

Rumi takes the cup, and gulps a large sip, throat burning as she swallows the fiery drink. She fights a grimace, grinning at Zo’ey in response, a laugh building up her chest as the fermented drink warms her chest. 

Zo’ey laughs as well, arm tightening on her waist. They both turn back to watch as Mira’a spins away from her opponent once more. 

Rumi cheers again, in awe of Mira’a’s movements. 

“Mira’a is wou, isn’t she?” Zo’ey purrs, voice close to Rumi’s ear. 

Goosebumps rise on Rumi’s skin, and she takes another sip of the zangke before she answers Zo’ey.

“Srane,” Rumi’s voice is gravely, and she clears it, ears twitching as she coughs lightly from the drink. “You both are.” Rumi flashes a look at Zo’ey, her tail twitching.

Zo’ey smiles brightly in response, taking a gulp of their shared beverage.

“Tsahey, taronyutsyì, we think you are as well,” Zo’ey whispers, voice soft and dreamy. 

Rumi curls farther into Zo’ey, body tingling from a mix of the zangke and the ambience that surrounds them. 

Eventually, Mira’a is declared the winner of her dance-fighting round, and rejoins Rumi and Zo’ey. The three continue to trade drinks, and when Rumi inquires, Mira’a shows off some basic moves for dance-fighting, using Zo’ey as an example to practice with. 

Rumi isn’t paying much attention to the actual moves if she’s being honest. She’s too distracted by the way Mira’a and Zo’ey’s bodies move together– tails swishing, ears flicking, eyes sparkling as they look at each other. 

Zo’ey notices her distraction, and teases her for it. Rumi flushes in response; she is filled with such happiness. 

Rumi has been welcomed among the Zeswa, walks as a friend among the beloved zakru now.

 Mira’a and Zo’ey hold her close as the celebration continues, the stars shining brightly in the sky, and the earthy breeze of the Upper Plains surrounding them.

As the festivities finally come to a close, Mira’a and Zo’ey have herded a slightly tipsy Rumi to their shared tent area. The other two are feeling the effects of the zangke as well– and the three of them are giggling and pulling each other’s tails, then pinching each other’s waists while affectionately hissing. 

When they settle among the sleeping mats, Zo’ey and Mira’a share a look, before Mira’a pulls an item from the back of their tent, out from a reed basket. Zo’ey has curled up close to Rumi, arm around the hybrid-clone’s waist, the two sitting up together, tails wrapped around their legs. 

“Paskalin, we have made something for you,” Mira’a’s low timber wraps around Rumi’s ears. The red-haired Na’vi’s tail swishes slowly behind her. She almost looks shy as she hands the bundle to Rumi, before settling down in front of the other two Na’vi.

Rumi looks between her companions before she carefully unwraps her gift. Zo’ey’s hand lightly tickles her waist, and Mira’a watches with a tranced look. 

Rumi gasps as she sees the gift, her ears flicking forward– it is a beaded choker, made with beautiful polished stones, and teeth from vekrengs. It is strung with corded leather, strong and durable material. 

The hybrid-clone doesn’t know what to say– gift giving symbolizes connection, and demonstrates love in the Na’vi culture. Rumi has no words to express what this means to her.

“May we place it on you, Rumi?” Zo’ey breaths, voice soft, eyes gentle. 

Rumi nods, still unable to speak. Mira’a and Zo’ey share a slow look, noticing how their third is overcome with this act of affection. The three of them shine in the darkened light, their bio-luminescent dots revealing the deep emotions swelling between them. 

Zo’ey places her forehead gently on Rumi's, closing her eyes. Rumi does the same as she feels the delicate touch of Mira’a fitting the choker around her neck. Rumi finds herself placing a hand on each leg of the Na’vi pair, their skin warm to the touch. 

“It is almost time for you to join the people completely, Rumi,” Zo’ey whispers. Rumi’s ears twitch, and her fingers tighten on the two legs. 

“We will return to the Kinglor Forest, and you will choose your ikran,” Mira’a says next, voice rumbling. Her fingers are splayed over Rumi’s shoulders, pausing there after she buttoned the choker around the hybrid-clone’s neck.

Rumi opens her eyes at that, leaning back to see both of them watching her, eyes bright and heavy. 

“I am ready?”

Rumi holds her breath, waiting for their confirmation. 

“You are ready,” the two vow together, voices warm and filled with passion. 

Rumi grins, canine teeth bared. She pulls the other two close, and three bodies fall gently to the ground, bundled together. 

Tails tangle, bodies press closer as they settle into comfortable sleeping positions– somehow Mira’a has wedged herself in the middle, as she likes to often do, and Zo’ey only pretends to grumble about it for a single moment, before she feels Rumi’s five-fingered hand grab her waist from the other side of Mira’a, pulling her in closer. 

Rimi snuggles into Mira’a’s back, Zo’ey melts into the touch from her side, and Mira’a purrs in contentment from the middle. The three descend into a gentle sleep, lured into a peacefulness by the affection shown from each other. 

Rumi dreams of flying in the skies upon her own ikran, chasing and diving with Zo’ey and Mira’a. She sees Eywa has gifted them to her– this bond she has waited for nearly two lives for– a bond she will forever follow and protect.