Chapter Text
It is not often that the Sarentu get to indulge in celebrations. Most notably because the Resistance had little cause to celebrate in the wake of the RDA’s attempts to ravage the Western Frontier, but the Sarentu had also lost so much of their culture after their abduction into the TAP program. All they had were the little bits and pieces of their heritage that they tried to fit together as they recuperated. So, when Nesim and Minang, the Olo'eykte and Tsahik of the Zeswa, invited the Sarentu to join them for a celebratory cookfire in honor of their new batch of Iknimaya graduates, the Sarentu camp became much livelier as the group made the necessary preparations to attend.
“Ri’nela! My braids are fine.” Tamtey swatted away the tsahik’s hands from her head as she continued to rummage through the woven basket near their hammocks, taking inventory of her weapons. Just before they had left on their mission a few days ago, So’lek gave her a once-over with displeasure clear on his face. He had told her that her braids had loosened over time, and the hair could come loose- a hindrance in battle. “So’lek helped me rebraid them the other day; they should still be neat.”
“That is the problem!” Ri’nela let out an exasperated huff. “He is too meticulous, your braids are wound too tightly around your kuru. It feels so stiff, like a rock!” She emphasized by curling her four fingers into a ball and hitting it against the palm of her hand.
“It’s important to make sure one’s hair is out of their face so it does not interfere with movement,” Tamtey muttered as she stood, her posture straighter and more confident these days. She took hold of her kuru to show Ri’nela the intricate weaving of her hair that So’lek had taught her. “It protects a warrior’s kuru from damage in a fight. There is a reason-”
“You two spend so much time together, you have even begun to sound alike. Always lecturing, are we?” Ri’nela interrupted with a chuckle, playfully shoving at Tamtey’s shoulder as a light purple blush began to peek through the younger Na’vi’s blue skin. “We all know you are a warrior, Tamtey. A mighty one! But tonight is for celebration! I think it could do you well to let loose. Be free for a night, you deserve that.”
Tamtey shifted from foot to foot as she glanced at the militaristic look of her top in comparison to the natural woven materials and decorative beading that made up her tsahik’s chest covering. It’s not that Tamtey liked her tactical vest; she didn’t find it comfortable or aesthetically pleasing. When she bore it, it felt heavy with the weight of the deaths that she had reaped wearing it, but it was necessary to keep her safe in combat.
On the other hand, she always admired the Aranahe’s style of dress and their artful weaving. When the wind traders would come bearing twengs and chest pieces adorned with shells and flora from the reef clans, she found herself longing to wear one herself. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to indulge herself just this once, to act as a normal Na’vi celebrating with the people instead of a warrior thrust into battle.
“I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t want to stick out too much around the Zeswa,” Tamtey admitted, her shoulders visibly relaxing as excitement began to shine through Rin’ela’s eyes. “And I’ve always thought the feathers you’ve woven into your braids were pretty. Would you help me?”
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” Ri’nela’s squeal echoed throughout the camp as she sat Tamtey down on the forest ground to begin removing her protective headgear from her forehead.
“What is going to be so much fun?” Teylan had just arrived back at camp from washing up in the nearby river, both brows quirked up in curiosity as he saw Ri’nela flitting around the camp, sifting through multiple woven baskets as she gathered feathers and beads to adorn Tamtey’s hair, while Tamtey sat obediently in amusement.
“We are playing dress up.” Tamtey chortled, “Would you like to join us?”
“Aha!” Ri’nela exclaimed with a beaming grin. With pride, she held up an ornamented chest piece that looked like it did little to conceal one’s bits in one hand, and a detailed white and pink colored tewng that required very complex fastening in the other. “I made these a few cycles ago at Aranahe hometree. It will complement the color of your eyes beautifully!”
Teylan tilted his head, wondering how that scrap of plant fiber could really be called clothing if it would not cover much of Tamtey. He pulled the cap atop his head a bit lower, “I’ll have to pass this time. Is So’lek almost done getting ready? I thought we had to leave soon.”
“I sent him ahead to gather some herbs for me on the way to the Zeswa; he said he would meet us there,” Ri’nela answered Teylan quickly, a mischievous glint in her eyes obvious to Teylan, his brow now quirked up in question. They both watched as Tamtey appraised Ri’nela’s handiwork, the tweng held out in both of her hands as she rubbed the material between her fingers. “Teylan, do you think that So’lek likes pink?”
“Ri’nela.” Tamtey’s pointed ears pinned back against her head, and she began to blush a darker color, mortified that she could be so predictable. She was, in fact, thinking about how the older Na’vi would react to her in something other than her gear. It is no secret amongst the Sarentu that Tamtey harboured feelings for So’lek; it was written all over her face, her actions, and body language- she did not have to tell others for them to catch on quickly.
Whenever So’lek would land back at their camp with Ìley, Tamtey would be the first to greet them with her tail flicking behind her happily, egging him on to race her again. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be looking for either one of them, just to see them out in the distance flying after one another- their delighted yips echoing out across the forest. If Tamtey came with Ri’nela to gather medicinal herbs in the forest, she would find her collecting vibrant flowers that she would later help grind into a paste and make into a warpaint for So’lek’s next mission in mind. If So’lek ever mentioned the time he spent with the Tipani clan to learn how to obtain a Cuirass crab’s shell with his mentor Rimu, Tamtey’s furrowed brow and fidgeting hands spoke miles of the jealousy (and perhaps insecurity) she tried to push beneath her.
It wasn’t as if this painstakingly obvious yearning was only practiced by Tamtey. Ri’nela has stumbled upon So’lek gathering materials and meticulously whittling away wood that she would later see placed on a new section of Tamtey’s songcord on multiple occasions. She notices how So’lek’s lips press into a grim line when Tamtey brushes off advice he has repeatedly told her before they leave base for a mission with a tease or a joke. Ri’nela has a suspicion that he doesn’t get upset because Tamtey isn’t listening to him, but because he is fearful. Though he is known to be an omen to the sky people and a legendary warrior to the Na’vi on the battlefield, Ri’nela can clearly see that he fears losing Tamtey in the way that he has lost so many before her.
Teylan probably bore witness to their odd “situationship” (a sky people term that Priya has educated him on) the most, having to listen in on the borderline but never quite flirtatious way they spoke to one another over comms. He never understood why they both chose not to disclose their feelings to one another, when they chose to spend so much of their lives together and evidently cared for each other deeply.
“I’m sure he will be delighted to see you, Tamtey.” Teylan said in a way that he hoped was reassuring, accompanied by a small smile, “Just as you are, he is always happy to see you.”
“Is this seat taken?” The sound of soft tinkling travelled to So’lek’s ears as he felt the presence of another behind him. Earlier, in his peripheral vision, he could make out a figure weaving through the gathering of the clan toward him, yet he brushed it off as someone meaning to pass him by. Surely, no one would actually try to make small talk with him when there was merrier company to be had.
Although Zeswa leaders like Nesim and Minang have made themselves friendly with So’lek, it doesn’t mean that the rest of the clan has followed suit. Whenever he passed through the clan on business, the all-too-interested stares and whispers didn’t go unnoticed by So’lek. Many people raise their left hand to their forehead and motion downwards in an arch, the traditional greeting, as he makes his way through the camp out of respect. He always returns the gesture earnestly. Even then, he knows that most won’t approach him looking for jovial conversation, not when he is usually seen deeply reflecting or determined to finish business- the dog tags of all the RDA members he has disposed of scraping against the armored vest that conceals his chest intimidating enough.
“Yes, I am waiting for- Sarentu?” His pupils had grown almost imperceptibly wider. “Is that you?”
So’lek’s vigilance on the battlefield was well known to both Na’vi and humans alike; he was called “Pandoran boogeyman” for a reason. He prided himself on being perceptive, silent, and observant, yet he hadn’t even noticed that it was Tamtey trying to sit with him! On any other day, even with his eyes shut, he could sense when Tamtey was sneaking behind him. So’lek could even distinguish the beat of Telisi’s wings from any other ikran. His eyes momentarily flicked down to the waterskin of zangke that he was holding, and he wondered if Nesim had brewed a particularly strong batch tonight. He decided to blame his shortcomings on the fermented drink, which was also probably responsible for the pleasant thrum he felt through his chest and settled in his abdomen as he lay eyes on the Na’vi before him. That, and Tamtey looked so different.
He had to lean back on his palm to fully take her in, shamelessly conducting a head-to-toe inspection as he usually did before they were just about to embark on a mission. He was used to a warrior, with fierce and determined eyes, her long hair braided back tactfully around her kuru like he had taught her so as not obscure her vision during maneuvers, warpaint to camouflage and intimidate her enemies, and her tactical vest on at all times.
However, the Na’vi in front of him was no battle-hardened resistance member. She was adorned with colorful feathers and beads that were woven meticulously into the crown of her head, which later fanned out behind her pointed ears, and down her braids. The warpaint that he usually helped her paint across her cheeks and body before a mission was washed off to reveal the patterns of the bioluminescent tanhi that danced across her face. Her tactical vest was nowhere to be seen. It was the first time he had ever seen Tamtey without human clothes or her gear that shielded her from the sky people’s metal. A carefully woven loincloth and chestpiece were in their place, with beads that softly clinked together as she moved her hand to cover her mouth, laughing at his inspection. She looked utterly Na’vi, free and true to herself, truly one of The People.
“Sxkawng, who else would it be?” Even her laugh sounded like musical chimes in his ears. “Unless- you really are waiting for someone else?” Her smile faltered for just a moment before he shook his head. He motioned his hand to the empty seat next to him, and she let out an amused huff before taking her place beside him on the log.
“When I got here after gathering the plants Rin’ela had asked of me, I thought you all were not far behind. You are late to the celebration.” Both of So’lek’s brows rose up towards his headpiece, as if to ask Why?
“It was not my fault!” Tamtey’s hand flew to her chest, her chest piece clinking once more. So’lek’s eyes flicked momentarily over the beads that were swaying across her torso with her movement. He was only quickly appraising the craftsmanship before he found the fronds of the trees to be all the more interesting and diverted his attention elsewhere. “It was Rin’ela! I had told her it was time to leave camp, but she insisted on weaving these into my hair.” Her hands motioning to the feathers atop her head,
“I’ve never known you to be so particular with…” So’lek’s eyes flick over her hair, tanhi, and new cloth pieces “...ornamentation.” When So’lek used to train Tamtey and prepare her for missions, they would choose gear for practicality’s sake- armguards that could withstand being struck by a blade, a chest plate that could take a bullet. That isn’t to say that Tamtey looked unbecoming in traditional Na’vi clothing; in fact, he thought the new look suited her much more than anything TAP or the Resistance has given her to wear.
The Sarentu who sat by his side looked untouched by war. So’lek began to imagine that this is how he might have met Tamtey years ago, had the RDA not slaughtered their clans, kidnapped the Sarentu children, and trained them to be soldiers. He couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a day when she could truly live like this. A day when he could see her so carefree around camp, with feathers haloing her face, and a warm firelight casting shadows that contoured her features in a new light.
The warm feeling in So’lek’s chest bloomed as he observed Tamtey gingerly pick at one of the beads that hung near her face, almost self-consciously, under his watchful eyes. This is how she should have grown up, how she should live out the rest of her days. Instead, she spends her time spraying bullets at his side under a weighted vest, bandaging his wounds on the battlefield after they take out AMP suits, waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat until he can reassure her that she is safe at camp with him.
“I’m not… usually.” Tamtey sighed, “It looks odd, doesn’t it? It feels different. I had nowhere to carry my gun, but Ri’nela told me there was no reason to bring my gun to the cookfire anyway, but I wanted to at least have something just in-”
“Good,” So’lek breathed out deeply to cut off Tamtey’s rambling, a soft chuckle at the back of his throat as he continued, “You look good, Sarentu.” When he gazed at her, the pleasant thrum of the zangke warming his chest and his cheeks, she looked like the pink and white lortsyawll and tana’ring flowers from his home.
Tamtey felt her face heat at his words; surely her cheeks must be purple with the way that her heart hammered against her rib cage. Good. Tamtey accepted that So’lek was very intentional with his words. It was a compliment, but not one that confirmed whether or not he at least thought of her as attractive. Good? That was all? She watched as he took another drink of zangke from his waterskin.
“And I’ve never known you to be someone who drinks!” Tamtey teased, a little in disbelief that he allowed himself to actually unwind and indulge in celebratory activities instead of just meditating. She tried to reach for the waterskin before So’lek directed a playful scowl at her.
“I don't… usually,” he moved the waterskin further out of her reach, “it dulls the senses, not good for warriors that need to stay watchful.”
“So then tonight…?”
“I suppose I am tired of reflecting,” So’lek let out a breath, his attention directed to the group of young Na’vi that had just bonded with their ikran for the first time, dance-fighting near the larger fire in the middle of the celebration. “It has been a long time since I first bonded with Mamante, flying to the rookery with my Trr’ong brothers and sisters to bond with our ikran for the first time. It was a happier time.” Brothers and sisters who have since returned to Eywa, and yet I am still here.
Tamtey’s eyes softened, and she placed her hand on So’lek’s shoulder. When he didn’t move, she began to open her mouth, but he cut her off before she could start, “That should be you over there, Sarentu.” He nudged his head towards the festivities, a dance-fight occurring at the main cookfire in the center of the Zeswa camp. “Don’t waste your time reminiscing with an elder like me; go on and enjoy yourself. You work hard.”
“You are not old! We’re practically the same age-” So’lek stopped her mid-sentence as he stood up slowly, taking her hands into his own to pull her up from her seat.
“Go.” He spoke with a gentle finality. So’lek laid his hand on top of her head in a pat before he gently urged her in Ri’nela and Teylan’s direction, the pair waving both of them over. His bright green eyes lingered on Tamtey’s exposed back as she waved back at her fellow Sarentu. So’lek observed from afar, taking inventory of the various scars that trailed across the expanse of her shoulder blades and back. While other Na’vi may view the jagged edges as a testament to her experience as a respected warrior, for So’lek, they were a bitter reminder of all the times he was unable to keep her unscathed during their operations. The Dog Tag Warrior knew he was protective of Tamtey, but he always cared about the well-being of his allies. That, he would not deny. However, deep down, his soul knew that Tamtey was not just an ally. She was something he could not allow himself to dream of, to hope or yearn for. This, he could push deep down- he had to bury it.
Perhaps it was because he had gotten used to operating alone in the field for so long. Now that he had someone double-checking his blind spots, someone who he could fully trust to protect his own life, he wondered if he was just scared of losing an asset, one he had invested so much time into. No, that is ridiculous. So’lek huffed, frustrated that he was deep in reflection once again. While he has an allyship with the Resistance members, he hasn’t felt such kinship or a longing to protect something that he felt was his own in a long time. He has indeed grown familiar with loss throughout his life; if anything, it is the only known constant. He can accept this. But for some reason, he cannot when it comes to Tamtey.
Tamtey was not just another. A feeling that he had no right to claim blossomed in his chest whenever he heard her strong yip as she barrel rolled through the air on Telisi, or when he would observe the way she took her bottom lip into her teeth as she concentrated on her weaving. Sarentu… I think I may- So’lek cut off the thought abruptly. He doesn’t think like that, hasn’t let himself think of a future like that in many moons. When he finally zoned back into the present moment, he lifted his head to find Tamtey looking back at him from a distance, her eyes glimmering even from afar while her head tilted to the side as if she was wondering what was wrong. He tried to will his heart to slow itself, to no avail.
So’lek did not trail too far behind the trio, deciding to put aside the zangke he was previously nursing aside after he saw them drunkenly dancing amidst the Zeswa. At least one of them had to be in their right mind if they were going to make it home. The warrior was unaware of his own growing smile as he watched Ri’nela and Tamtey try to get Teylan to relax his body and move to the rhythm intuitively. At the same time, So’lek did not miss the interested stares that Tamtey received from the Na’vi who had just completed their iknimayas, and other Zeswa clan members who had yet to find their mate. He could feel his ears flick, his tail lashing behind him with annoyance. Why did he feel so annoyed? He had no right to Tamtey; she was free to pick a mate for herself if she pleased. Wait- Is Tamtey courting someone? So’lek’s brows scrunched together. That would explain why she has decided to dress so differently tonight…Deep in thought, he had missed Tamtey sneaking up behind him a second time, feeling her hands grab at his own to drag him to dance with her near the fire when it was already too late.
“Sarentu, I do not feel like dancing right-”
“Oh, don’t be a chicken, let loose!” Tamtey laughed, beginning to move So’lek’s hands for him until he began to move himself.
He tilted his head to the side, chicken? He didn’t know what that meant, but found himself letting it go- lost in the way Tamtey spun him around with golden mirth lighting up her eyes. Whenever Tamtey would visit the Aranahe or the Zeswa, a frequent question she would encounter was how she could get along with So’lek, “the Dog Tag Warrior who chose to use sky people metal,” they would whisper in her ear while he was only a few steps behind. She was always amused at the common misconception that So’lek was always serious and brooding, when in reality, he was incessantly teasing or joking over comms. She wished that others could see him when he wasn’t taking down RDA bases, when he was gentle as he praised and pet Ìley, his patience when he taught her how to hunt, or his deep rumbling laugh when he would beat her in a race. And in the infrequent moments where he could relax, she could feel something soften within her when she would catch him nodding off after grooming Ìley, or while he was whittling wood near the fire after meals with heavy eyes.
She appreciated how his muscular shoulders, usually tense with knots from carrying a heavy firearm at all times, loosened as he moved to the rhythm of traditional Zeswa music. The deep rumble that thrummed from his chest as he hummed along to the instruments was almost like a smooth lullaby, placating the near constant underlying restlessness that simmered beneath Tamtey’s skin. Tamtey and Solek continued to dance around each other in the firelight, accompanied by the other Sarentu and Zeswa Na’vi, both parties stealing glances every chance they could get, although little was said.
Nesim continued to pass skins filled with zangke over to Tamtey, delighted to find out she was a cheerful and boisterous drunk. So’lek indulged his fellow resistance members as long as he could, but he eventually had to cut Tamtey off when she and Nesim were too far gone to dance without falling all over each other. So’lek had politely thanked the Olo'eykte for their hospitality while he hoisted Tamtey up by her shoulders, allowing him to act as her support while she stood, and a dopey but pleased grin on her face showed that she was still feeling the effects of the drink.
“Make sure you get her home safe, So’lek!” Nesim bellowed, although So’lek was standing quite literally right next to her. “I’ll get the others home safe!” So’lek winced at the sheer volume she was speaking at, feeling unconfident that she would hold up her end of promises.
“Do not worry, So’lek. I am here.” Minang chuckled, patting her sister’s shoulder. “I will ensure the other Sarentu have safe passage home.”
“Thank you, Minang. Tamtey-” So’lek hoisted her up against his shoulder again as she began to nod off against him, “I do not think she can fly on Telisi, I will take care of her.”
“Oh, I am certain of it.” She winked before ushering her sister away.
Why did she do that? Does she have something stuck in her eye? So’lek decided it wasn’t worth dwelling on before calling out for Ìley in a small clearing of the forest near the Zeswa’s camp. He lifted and secured Tamtey onto Ìley as she continued to grumble.
“It’s too early for a mission, So’lek. Let me beee.” Her voice sounded a little rougher than usual, most likely dehydrated from the amount of zanke she had indulged in tonight. She sat in front of So’lek, his chest bracing her back to ensure she did not fall off into the sky as they made their way back to camp.
“We are not going on a mission, Sarentu.” Her brows wrinkle at the name he chooses to call her. “I’m taking you back to camp; you have drunk too much tonight.” He fished out the waterskin that was actually filled with water from the pouch at Ìley’s side and nudged it against Tamtey’s hands. “You need to drink; you will regret it if you do not.”
“Always nagging.” Tamtey grumbled, bringing the waterskin to her lips despite her complaints.
“I only advise you because I care for you.” His words are spoken softly, but Tamtey can still feel the deep-set rumble of his voice through his chest against her back. She cannot help the way her own chest reacts to his words, a flutter that aches to come to the surface.
“You do?”
“What kind of question is this? Of course I care.” He is baffled at first, but figures this is just part of the drunken babbling that Minang had warned him to expect at one point in the night. Despite this, he still answers sincerely. “It is the Na’vi way to care for the people.”
“Do you only care for me because it is the Na’vi way?” Tamtey turned her head slightly over her shoulder, looking over her shoulder and through her lashes.
“No.” So’lek averted his eyes from Tamtey as he shifted in his position, a bit unsure of how to proceed with the conversation while she was looking at him like she could see right through him. There are many reasons why So’lek cares for the Sarentu, but he cannot even begin to fathom why he cares for Tamtey the way that he does. He fears that if he begins to divulge even a bit of it to her, he may never be able to stop. He will not allow himself to be selfish; he wants to protect Tamtey. So, he chooses to deflect. “You are all not unlike me; I see myself in many of you. I saw the way my clan ended. I will not allow the same to happen to you.”
She gave him a hum in response, staring at him for a little while longer. He would glance down to see her eyes almost unnervingly shift between his eyes before she sighed and turned her eyes forward.
The rest of the ride home was mostly silent, save for Tamtey humming her old Sarentu songs here and there. However, So’lek’s mind was far from quiet. He pondered Tamtey’s odd line of questioning. Surely, she knew he cared for her. What did she want to hear exactly? They finally landed back at camp, So’lek dismounting off Ìley first before he offered a hand to Tamtey to assist her on the way down.
“Thank you.” Tamtey kept So’lek’s hand in hers even after she had already dismounted safely. “For taking good care of us.”
“There is no need for thanks, Sarentu.”
“Tamtey.” She corrects, letting go of his hand to cross her arms over her chest. She chuckles when she sees So’lek’s single brow quirk up in question. “You can’t call me by name. Why?”
“You are Sarentu, are you not?” He lifts his chin, not wanting to get into how he doesn’t wish to face his feelings, and distancing himself as much as he can is better in the long run and-
“So’lek,” She interrupts his train of thought, seeing the ways his eyes glaze over in reflection. “I cannot bear this anymore. There is something I must tell you.”
He feels time stop. He already knows.
“Sarentu.” So’lek placed his hands on both of her shoulders, placing a distance between the two warriors. How could he allow himself to pursue a future together when he could not promise Tamtey his life as he continued on his path for peace, which always inevitably leads to a path of revenge? It was unfair to her. So’lek has chosen his life’s purpose. He had embarked on the path of the promiser; he had begun this path to find peace on his path of revenge against the demons that took his people too soon. He found purpose in being a teacher to those who would follow the will of Eywa. But Tamtey… she is so young. She does not deserve to pledge her life to someone who could not keep her safe, who could not give her the peace she needed. The conflicted and pained expression in his eyes bored into Tamtey’s wide and hopeful ones. He found himself looking away, unable to bear the hurt he would inflict on both of them-
“Oel ngati kameie.” The words cut through the thick layers of conflicted introspection that So’lek was trying to confront in this very moment. The words have an odd finality set into them. He felt Tamtey’s hands take hold of his forearms, which he was using to keep her at an arm’s length away. His heart lurched in his chest at her tone, the sad yet steady resolve in her voice. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were askew in what looked like a somber sort of smile. “I see you, ma So’lek.”
“Sarentu, I-”
“Do not worry yourself, So’lek. I understand.” And then she was out of his reach. She let out a strong call to Telisi. Before So’lek could further explain himself, Telisi’s strong wings began to stir the forest, and Tamtey was gone before he could even tell her to be careful.