Chapter Text
The Resistance base was unusually heavy with a tense silence. So’lek had never known the Resistance to be particularly jubilant (though sometimes unbearably naive), but this quiet was different to the tentative calm he was used to.
He could still feel Alma’s blood in the creases of his palms. He had washed it off his hands hours ago, but the sticky sensation lingered. Although, he thought silently, I suppose it wasn’t really her blood. Alma’s false body hadn’t been strong enough to survive the damage Nor’s knife had done to it. So’lek wondered what flimsy materials the Sky People used to make their dreamwalker bodies that made them so feeble.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair to think that. Alma’s avatar had already been wounded in the explosion at the old HQ. But right now, most of his sadness was for the Sarentu. Thinking of Nor only made the sting of his failure even worse. He hoped dearly he’d be able to catch up with him later. Speak to him when his head is not so clouded with his rage that he can barely see straight. Remembering the wild look in Nor’s eyes as he fled, So’lek’s tongue tasted like bile.
It wasn't that he didn’t understand. It was that he understood all too well; the wide eyes, the dilated pupils screaming for blood, for retribution. It was so intimately familiar he wanted to be sick right there.
But there would be time for him and his roiling emotions soon enough. For now, with Nor and Teylan out in the wind ( oh, Teylan…) he still had two other Sarentu to ask after.
He found Ri’nela where he knew he would, drowning her feelings in the command center. She’d insisted she was too busy then, and promised she’d seek him out later to talk. Her voice was calm, even. But her shoulders were drooped, and her fingers hovered uselessly over the glass of her tablet. Her eyes were trained on its glowing surface, but her gaze was unseeing and distant. He knew there was something hidden beneath her steady facade, but he would not force her into spilling her griefs before she was ready. So instead, he simply pressed a heavy hand to her shoulder and left her to her coordinating.
He knew she did not see it now, but So’lek was positive he saw the makings of a tsahìk in her. Perhaps one day, when her feet were planted more firmly on the ground and the RDA is nothing but a distant scar on their memories, she would see the same things he did. But for now, he knew she felt secure enough to slowly emerge from her shell, knowing she could always rely on him to reassure her.
“I’m not sure what to feel,” she’d told him softly, eyes downcast. “So much has been revealed in such a short amount of time. So many secrets, so many lies. I don’t know how to make sense of them all. I just…we’ll speak. Later. When I've had time to…process, I guess? Promise.”
And he would hold her to that. But until then, he only had one place to go.
He couldn’t help the sigh of relief when the HQ airlock slid shut behind him. Filling his lungs with pure air, untainted with the human oxygen that let a slightly metallic taste in his mouth. His chest expanded, filling with the sweet scent of damp wood and the warm smokiness of burning campfires. He made his way towards the exit, continuing to sniff at the air until he finally locked on to what he was searching for.
A familiar scent: pleasantly spiced and woody, trailing away from HQ and disappearing into the fog. Unlike their adoptive siblings, Tal’vey was never in one place for too long. Tracking a moving target was definitely more of a challenge than just stalking around HQ, but So’lek welcomed it gladly.
Luckily--or maybe unluckily--he did not need to travel far. Tal’vey had wandered down to the old Kame’tire meeting place, hunkered down in a low cave carved into the mountainside. It was clearly a place that hadn’t seen a guest in a long time, stuffy and stale as if wind had not passed through since it had been abandoned. It was dark, and the mist made the forest eerie. Only the faint pink glow of the Whispering Greatcap mushroom and a single orange flame cut through the dense murk, a beacon of warmth and light in an otherwise inky night. However, unlike most camp hearths, this tiny little fire flickered meekly and quietly. There were no laughing smiles or lively storytelling happening around this fire tonight,
So’lek approached calmly and slowly. He felt no need to announce himself; his footsteps were muffled in the thick grass, but Tal’ey knew he was there just as surely as if he had shouted their name. At first, when he crouched down beside them, there was only silence. Silence, and the crackling of the wood as it burned. Moments passed. Tal’vey sat still, eyes fixed on the fire. Neither of them spoke.
In the distance, a stormglider screamed.
The fire spit and a log suddenly collapsed and disintegrated into the embers. Without a word, Tal’vey reached for another piece from the pile beside them and tossed it in. It was only when the new branch was starting to catch did they finally acknowledge him. “Nor isn’t here.”
They had spoken without looking, as if they were merely speaking to the breeze. “I am not looking for Nor.”
Tal’vey sighed, but didn’t speak again. They stared listlessly into the flames, watching them dance as if the smoke held the answers to the questions buzzing against their skull. So’lek sat patiently, content to wait until Tal’vey had gathered their thoughts.
“The RDA made the yava,” they said. So’lek wasn’t sure what he had expected them to say, but it wasn’t that. “When I went to the Sarentu moot, I saw the barrels. The air was thick in my throat. The taste of acid on my tongue was so disgusting I thought I would be sick. There were no bodies; no clothes, no bones. Like they never existed.”
Tal’vey’s voice was flat and haunted. As they spoke, they hadn’t moved their eyes from the fire, but now they looked at him. Large eyes, teary and tormented with what they had witnessed. So’lek would never forgive himself for letting them go alone.
“They destroyed them. All of them. An entire clan, completely slaughtered and annihilated, all to hide the evidence of two humans’ sick ambitions. Their greed, their entitlement, their lust for power. They killed my family, and in the end there was nothing to show for it. All that senseless death, and they failed anyway. How do I reconcile with the fact that the same person I thought would protect us is the same person who dug me out from beneath my mother’s body?!”
They were crying now, shoulders shuddering with the weight of their sobs. So’lek had hoped to provide some support, some sort of comfort that he knew wouldn’t take the pain away, but would be better than suffering the agony alone like he had. But now, faced with the raw anguish of their grief, he found his throat had swollen shut. He tried to breathe through the voices and memories echoing like ghosts behind his ears. No matter how much time has passed, the spirits of his past never truly go away. They had quieted in the past months, with his sense of purpose renewed after discovering the Sarentu at TAP. But now they returned with a vengeance, bringing with them the memories he had tried so desperately to forget.
So’lek pushed back the rush of dread and sorrow that washed over him, knowing that he would have to deal with them eventually. But that was for later, when he was alone, and not when his friend needed him so dearly.
“There is nothing I can say that would make Alma’s deeds any less of a betrayal,” he started. “The actions committed against you and your clan are crimes that cannot be atoned for. You have spent your whole life surrounded by the Sky People and their greedy lies. They stole your future out from under you before you ever had a chance to stand against them.”
So’lek would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at comforting. Soft and fuzzy words were harder to speak than shooting an arrow. Sitting here, watching them break down with nothing in his arsenal to make it better, So’lek felt so useless. He wished this pain was just another enemy; another army or Sky People camp he could point a gun at and force into submission. It was how he managed his own hurricane of emotions. Shove them so far down you forget the hurt and the fear and put all your energy into the fight.
But that solution would not work here. And even if it could, it was not a life he wanted Tal’vey to have. He couldn’t stand to imagine their face growing cold and distant, an unfeeling warrior filled with nothing but hatred. Looking at their face, soft and full of so much life, he knew he would do whatever he could for them--to help them succeed. Even if his own clan was gone, he had a chance to save this one.
Even if his own soul was too far gone to save, he would not allow Tal’vey to suffer his fate.
The Sarentu would walk Pandora again, and would so for many generations to come, if he had anything to say about it.
“I cannot tell you how to feel, and how to forgive,” he continued. “That is for you to decide for yourself. But know that the past does not dictate how you move forward. Feel your anger, your grief, your confusion. But do not let it define you. Know that there is a life for you beyond this war. When the RDA has finally been driven from Pandora for good. The night may be long and dark, but trust that the sun will rise again, on you and your friends.”
So’lek had no idea if his words would have any impact. He had had many similar conversations with Nor, but in the end they had made no difference.
But they seemed to have done something. Tal’vey had stopped sobbing, instead watching him with damp cheeks and an unreadable expression. He expected anger, or frustration. He waited for them to lash out at him and yell that he didn't understand.
But they fixed him with wide amber eyes and tilted their heads. Up above, The Greatcap mushroom glowed gently with Eywa’s light. The harsh orange of the fire seemed glaring in such a place, but it allowed So’lek to look properly at Tal’vey’s face. They were rarely so close together, and from this distance, he could appreciate their quiet beauty, hidden as it is beneath old face paint and grief. He could make out the sharpness of their cheekbones and the fullness of their lips. Their hair, normally held back by headgear, fell in a curtain of braids and feathers, framing their face in a pleasant way. Lit in flickering flames, So’lek could see how a couple of charming words and a well-placed tail wave could get Tal’vey anything they wanted.
Perhaps it was wrong to be admiring their beauty at a time like this. Distress was still evident on their face, but no more tears were falling. Instead, they tilted their head, observing him in a way that made his bones squirm under his skin.
“My friends…” they repeated softly. They were silent for a moment more, seeming to think. Quietly, they fumbled with their hands, nails digging and picking at the nailbeds and cuticles. A nasty, painful-looking habit, no doubt a tick left over from their time under Mercer’s control. So’lek wondered quietly if the Sarentu would ever be free of the RDA with their abuse embedded so deeply into them.
“Avoiding Alma isn’t really an option, seeing as she’s kind of a leader around here,” Tal’vey said, voice steady but soft. “But how can I possibly face her after this? After all this time, and all these lies.”
“Forgiveness is not something given lightly, especially after everything Alma has done,” So’lek replied lowly. “Do not let anyone try to tell you your feelings are anything but valid.”
“Do you think I should? Forgive her, I mean.”
“Only you can decide how to move forward from this. What I can say is that grief and anger have a way of burrowing deep inside you, hollowing you out until nothing else is left. It eats away at your very soul, leaving nothing but a husk of resentment and hatred. I know all too well how easy it is to fall into despair and allow your emotions to consume you.”
Tal’vey’s eyes were fixed on him with deep focus. So unlike Nor, who watched his lessons but never listened.
“Is that what happened to you?”
Their question struck him in the chest like a stake. It was like being struck by lightning, being caught in Tal’vey’s scrutiny. This sensation of vulnerability is new, even a bit uncomfortable, but not surprising. So’lek would not be amiss in thinking there was not much that Tal’vey would not notice. He wasn’t used to being seen quite so easily. For so many years, he had been alone. By design, he stayed distant from the humans in the Resistance. Even other Na’vi looked at him oddly when they saw the guns and grenades in his hands.
But even as the silence stretched, Tal’vey’s expression didn't waver. They waited patiently, watching the different emotions flashing across his face. For a moment, So’lek considered not answering. He wanted to avoid the question entirely; change the subject, refuse outright. Maybe if he moved fast enough he could jump up and leap off the cliffside before they could stop him.
But clamming up and shutting them out felt counter-intuitive. He couldn’t very well expect to offer advice if he balked at every uncomfortable question. So he swallowed past his dry tongue and the lump in his throat and attempted to organize his thoughts.
“For a very long time, I lost myself in my grief. I thought of nothing but my vengeance, my hatred was rotting into obsession. It is a very dark, very lonely place. I have no doubt that continuing down that path would have led to my own destruction. It is no way to live. But abandoning my fight meant abandoning my purpose. I had no drive outside of my rage.”
“Has it gotten any better?” Tal’vey asked, soft and quiet. “The pain? The grief? All of it. Does it ever?”
“My pain is a part of me now,” So’lek replied. “It will never disappear completely. But, over time, it can become bearable. You can find your purpose again.”
Tal’vey hummed, a low, thoughtful noise in their throat. The expression they fixed him with was unreadable once again, and So’lek couldn’t help lamenting how easily they seemed to read him, when they themselves kept their thoughts hidden from him.
“And have you? Found your purpose, I mean?”
So’lek wondered how to answer. The truth was complicated, thick with uncertainty and lingering phantoms. Because his hunt was still ongoing, and would continue until justice had finally been served. But for the first time in a long time, he could see the sun on the horizon. The oppressive darkness that he was living in had lifted slightly. There were no words to describe it properly, so he only nodded, growling low in his throat.
Tal’vey didn't speak again, but a small smile curved their lips. They hummed quietly to themselves, the same little song he had heard from the others. His answer seemed to satisfy them, or they simply had no more questions to ask. In either case, a comfortable silence fell upon them once more. Wordlessly, Tal’vey dug into their pack beside them and assembled two skewers, setting them side by side in the fire.
Looking across the hearth, watching as Tal’vey placed another log into the fire, So’lek could believe in a life beyond this war. A life, and a family. Peace. Something he had not let himself hope for in a very long time. Looking at them, the fire reflecting in their amber eyes, humming softly, So’lek felt something warm settle in his chest.
Outside, the RDA was still prowling the planet, ready to destroy everything in its wake. And they would be dealt with. But here, tonight, in this little cave, there was a warm fire, and food cooking, and Tal’vey was looking at him with those round, soft eyes.
And for now, he would rest, his newfound purpose humming sweetly into the night.