Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Did you see the zakru on the way here? They are huge!”

Teylan’s voice broke through Tamtey’s comms, bringing a soft smile to her face. His wonder at the plains did not surprise her, because it was one she shared. The vast fields and its windswept trees, grass and plants, an openness she had not felt before settled in her chest. A sense of freedom. 

It was the time of the Great Games. Nesim had so kindly invited all the Sarentu to participate and join the festivities. Though Tamtey had felt a little strange, celebrating in the eye of the still persistent danger of the RDA that never truly left Pandora, she couldn’t deny it felt good to let loose. To just be. The thought of simply being Tamtey, instead of Death on Wings, felt surprisingly nice. 

As she rode past the Zeswa working on murals and hanging up banners, she felt her smile widen. 

“They are a sight to see for sure,” Tamtey replied, her eyes landing on the gathered zakru by one of the ponds to the Zeswa camping grounds when it finally appeared in her view. 

Teylan was silent on the other end of the line, probably taking in all the sights to see. From the gigantic tents centered around the camp, their bright colours and textured fabrics a testament to Zeswa culture, to the racing tracks of to the west, reminding Tamtey that Nesim had probably lured her with the idea of getting her to participate. That suspicion was not unfounded. 

As soon as Tamtey had dismounted her pali, the Na’vi in question appeared at her side, a big grin on her face. The olo’eykte of the Zeswa wore her traditional woven garments, which had always inspired awe in Tamtey. She was not a gifted weaver, not of silks or reeds, and mostly wore the tactical vests So’lek had provided for her. They were safer for combat anyway, because they were bulletproof. However gorgeous Tamtey found the silks of the Aranahe or the woven wonders of the Zeswa, practicality won over beauty.  

“Ma’eylan! I was worried you fell in a puddle!”

Tamtey barked out a laugh, brushing her hand over the pali’s neck before guiding it to the rest of the small herd to the south of the camp, where new arrivals were coming in. “A puddle? Why’s that?”

“Your face is as bare as the day you were born!” Nesim asked, brushing her hand over Tamtey’s bare bicep, eyes twinkling. “You do know that the Great Games are a place for warriors, where we colour our bodies to help test our endurance and strength?”

Tamtey felt her cheeks go purple at the question. She couldn’t figure out if Nesim was being serious or not. It was hard to guess at times; the charming Na’vi was a jokester at heart, which often meant her jokes could be mistaken for truth. She opened her mouth to ask just that when she was interrupted by Ri’nela and Teylan at her side. 

Ri’nela touched her elbow affectionately, giving her a slight, reassuring smile. Tamtey felt her stirring anxiety settle. Ri’nela had a strange way of sensing her moods. It was as if she had noticed instantly that Tamtey needed rescuing. 

It was a little embarrassing, really. Needing rescue from a social interaction whilst being known as Death on Wings, dismantling RDA bases without a single thought. The idea alone almost made Tamtey chortle. If So’lek were here, he would’ve reminded her that she did not need anyone’s approval, that she was strong and dependable. The thought of the Trrong warrior made something flutter in her chest. 

“We are happy you made it,” Ri’nela spoke, a soft smile on her face. “Was there no trouble on the way here? You took longer than I expected.”

Tamtey shook her head, the yellow beads in her braids catching in the sunlight. “None at all…” She then hesitated, but ultimately chose to tell the truth. “So’lek and I decided to dismantle the last drill site near Cocoon Hills before we came here. Then afterwards we were so tired we just crashed. He went back to his hideout and I slept at Hometree...” Tamtey scratched the back of her neck. 

Instead of scolding her - because this was not a decision known to anyone within the resistance - Ri’nela smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “How wonderful. I imagine Priya will be happy to know the pollution is dwindling down in the forest.”

“I can’t wait to analyse the data,” Teylan began, nodding along with a wide smile on his face, his hat bobbing along. Then, he looked around Tamtey and frowned. “Did So’lek not come with you?”

Tamtey opened her mouth to speak when Nesim, who had quietly watched their interaction with a soft smile gracing her lips, spoke up: “He is already here, in fact. Though that stubborn fool has refused every invitation to join the games. Until just now.” Nesim’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “After I beat him in race.”

“He is already here?” Tamtey couldn’t deny how her heart started to beat faster at the statement, but she suppressed the unreasonably loudness of it within her, taking a breath. 

Nesim nodded. “Yes, and he has already garnered quite a few admirers after hunting for the clan to gather food for the great feast that will commence the games this evening. Though that man may as well have a palulukan’s hide covering his eyes.” The olo’eykte of the Zeswa chortled at that. “I do not think I have ever met a man so blind to the obvious.”

Tamtey chuckled slightly, though she felt her chest tighten at Nesim’s words. Ri’nela, observant as always, steered the conversation in a different direction with a squeeze to Tamtey’s wrist. Tamtey let out a soft breath. 

She had realised she had fallen for So’lek many moons ago. The feeling had crept up on her for months, yet she had not really thought about it until a moment that was completely and utterly normal had surpassed between her and the older Na’vil. Something so common, so thoughtless, an action done without any push, that it had startled the beat of her heart in her chest. 

It had occurred when So’lek had just bandaged a cut on her side. A nasty gash caused when one of the mech´s had slammed her against the railing of an RDA base. It had been a mere flesh wound, but So’lek had insisted on treating it right there and then.

His fingers had carefully pressed some fresh smelling leaves against her midriff and had then wrapped a humanmade bandage around it. They had been out of dapophet pods; the mission had been tougher than they both had anticipated. When his fingers had slowly trailed over a patch of exposed skin close to her hip, she had drawn in a sharp breath, the sensation filling her with a sensuous warmth. 

“Tamtey? Are you alright?” 

So’lek’s fingers on her face, his thumb stroking over her Sarentu mark without a singular thought, had called a stop to all thoughts inside her head. He had just been worried about her pain, had wanted to check up on her. But that simple movement, accompanied by the intense look in his beautiful eyes that always reminded her of her favorite Kinglor flowers, had solidified her doom. 

“I…” Tamtey had stammered, breath stuttering out of her chest. “Yes… irayo, So'lek.”

So’lek had seemed almost reluctant to withdraw his touch from her skin, but he had done so mere seconds after, retreating back into his stern shell, guiding them to safety.

That one, ordinary interaction had irrevocably changed something in Tamtey though. Something she could not suppress any longer. 

And now Nesim’s words filled her with a knot in her chest, a writhing she could barely breathe through. She had no right to feel this way about So’lek gaining admirers. He had no mate, no partner, and he would be a wonderful one. Not only because of his prowess, his strength and his resilience, but because he was kind. And gentle. 

“You are quieter than usual,” Teylan quipped softly at her side as Nesim and Ri’nela were still engaged in conversation, now on the topic of what games would take place over the course of the week. “Did something happen anyway?” He whispered, almost conspicuously. 

Tamtey shook her head out of her anxious thoughts and smiled at the man she considered her younger brother - whether he liked it or not. “I am just more tired than I realised.” Tamtey released a breath, fingers rubbing over her bare arms before pulling at the straps of her chest guard. “And I am desperate for something more comfortable, that is all.”

“Where are my sister’s manners! What is this talk of weariness and a lack of comfort?”

All heads swiveled in the direction of the camp, where the tsahìk of the Zeswa appeared to be walking towards them, a knowing look on her face. 

“Nesim, have you been holding our guests hostage? The Sarentu must be weary after their long journey. And I have heard they even took out another one of the sky people’s sites before coming here.” Minang tilted her head to the side. “They deserve a reprieve before the festivities, do they not?”

Tamtey opened her mouth to protest, to say that she could help, offer aid when needed, when Nesim, to her great surprise, started to look bashful in her reply. “You are wise, sister.” The olo’eykte chuckled slightly. “My manners are lacking indeed.” She turned her gaze to Tamtey. “You must be tired after your long journey. Please, allow me to-”

“You must be busy with organizing before the feast today, yes?” Ri’nela interrupted, pressing a hand to her heart with a slight smile. “Allow me to guide Tamtey to our tent. Which you have our thanks for again. It would have been no trouble to share with the Zeswa.”

Minang, her bright eyes twinkling in the sunlight, waved Ri’nela’s offer of humility away. “You are our honoured guests. We are delighted to share our comforts with the Sarentu, now that they have returned and bring their stories to our plains once more. And after hearing of all your feats in the forests, you deserve nothing less.” Her gaze was on Tamtey as she spoke. Tamtey felt her stomach twist into knots again. She hoped none here knew the nickname the RDA had given her. She despised it. 

Ri’nela laughed. “Alright. We appreciate it nonetheless. Irayo.”

Minang reached out to give Ri’nela’s hand a squeeze. “You are welcome.” She let go of her hand and waved towards the camp. “Now go. Rest. And get ready for tonight’s feast.”

Nesim grinned. “I cannot wait. It will be a sight to see.”

“What was that about? The sight to see?” Tamtay questioned as followed Ri’nela and Teylan into the bright turquoise tent, though she was quickly awestruck by the sight within.

Even the inside of the tent was beautiful, with many woven ornaments and dangling talismans everywhere, and it was filled to the brim with amenities, from paints to reeds and flowers. Probably for last minute additions to their clothes, Tamtey thought fondly. The Zeswa were the most generous clan next to the Aranahe, sharing their gifts with anyone they deemed a friend. Tamtey’s heart swelled at the sight. 

Tamtey was shook out of her awe by the silence and turned to look at Ri’nela, who hovered by the dried flowers and trailed a hand over them. She looked a little hesitant. 

“The Zeswa start the festivities of the Great Games by hosting a great feast, which centers around an enormous dance celebration,” Teylan replied, the enthusiasm spilling from his voice. “Everyone gathers around the main tent, and everyone who wishes to enter the games gets their paints done before the celebration begins.”

Now she understood Ri’nela’s hesitance. 

“Wait… Tamtey-” Teylan began, stumbling over his words as he reached out to her, grasping her arm. “Ngaytxoa, I forgot.” He looked genuinely miserable, which made Tamtey’s heart hurt. She quickly grasped his hands in her own and shook her head, a small smile on her face. 

“No, Teylan, it is alright. It sounds like a lovely tradition.”

“I’m sure Nesim would not mind if you chose not to wear the paints, ma’Tamtey,” Ri’nela spoke softly, now at her side, a steady beacon of calmth. She gently gave her shoulder a squeeze, a kind smile on her face. “She would welcome you as a competitor. Would beg for it, in fact.” 

Tamtey felt her chest tighten and she eventually shook her head, gently prising herself free from both her fellow Sarentu. The smile on her face almost felt painful to wear. “I will be glad for an opportunity to rest. Do not worry for me. I’ll happily spectate and cheer… cheer So’lek on, or any of you, for that matter.”

Whilst Teylan looked doubtful, Ri’nela’s eyes almost seemed to carry a pity in them Tamtey did not wish to see. The air inside the tent suddenly felt suffocating. And though Tamtey felt bone-tired and wanted nothing more than to rest her head on one of the comfortable-looking mats in the tent, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She needed out. 

“I’m going to see if Telisi’s alright. I need to know if she arrived safely at camp.”

Teylan opened his mouth to speak, but quickly stopped himself once he felt Ri’nela’s touch on his arm, her head shaking once, subtly, when Tamtey’s back was turned. 

“Alright,” Ri’nela said softly. “Be safe. We’ll be here if you need us.”

Tamtey felt her throat tighten. And, against her own will, tears prickled at her eyes. She nodded once, her head barely turned, and stalked out of the tent. Once in the open air, she made way to the ikran grounds, her head swirling with anxiety. 

Tamtey did not want to feel this way over something so trivial. But she had been looking forward to the games. Had been looking forward to spending more time with Ri’nela and Teylan. Had looked forward to seeing So’lek be carefree for once, without the burden of always being on guard for more RDA. Her chest tightened at the thought. 

It was stupid. She was sure that Ri’nela was right; Nesim wouldn’t hesitate to let her compete and join the games, even without the paints, but the thought alone made Tamtey’s skin crawl. Tamtey still felt like an outsider amongst her fellow Na’vi after spending her youth at TAP, learning the sky people’s language, their customs, their mannerisms. It made her feel alien amongst her own kind. 

It didn’t help that the way for Na’vi to express themselves, with beautifully pigmented paints, caused her to become sick. It was the agent, Teylan had explained, after a particularly egregious allergic reaction had caused Tamtey’s throat to close and her breathing to almost halt entirely. The agent’s components didn’t mix with Tamtey’s physiological blueprint, was what Teylan had said, with a frown marring his usual cheerful expression. It wasn’t unheard of to have allergies, as Alma had called them, but it was very rare amongst the Na’vi. Nor had meant to comfort her by saying it must have been the sky people that caused her body to reject their natural world. It had not helped. 

It was one thing to lie to Ri’nela and Teylan, but lying to herself she could not. She did want to compete, she realised with a sigh as she reached the ikran grounds, filled with the ikran of both the Aranahe as well as their own. She quickly spotted Telisi’s lavender hide and made her way to her bonded. 

With a small smile, she reached out and pressed her hand against her hide. “Ma’eylan,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Telisi’s neck, which caused the ikran to purr softly. 

“We must be content to be on the sidelines this time, Telisi,” she murmured, reaching behind for her kuru to join with Telisi’s so they could fly. Perhaps the winds of the plains could calm her spirit. Telisi chirped, perhaps sensing her rider’s unease. “It will be alright.”

So’lek caught eyes of Tamtey striding out of the Sarentu tent when he crossed into the guest campsite. 

He had just finished caring for Iley, after the two of them had been out hunting all morning. The Zeswa were organizing a grand feast and Nesim had simply ordered him to help the hunters gather more meats to roast at the fire tonight. He had accepted with a grunt, though his body had screamed in protest. He did not want to admit it, but he could have really used with a rest this time. His and Tamtey’s escapade at the drill site had gone well, but he was getting older. 

His brows drew together at Tamtey’s expression. His teasing, steadfast Sarentu never looked like that. His body was already half-turned to go pursue her, when Teylan burst out of the Sarentu tent next, wearing an equally forlorn expression. It seemed all the Sarentu were out of sorts. Frowning, So’lek made his way over to the younger Na’vi to investigate. 

“Teylan? What is wrong?”

“Did you see Tamtey?” Teylan interrupted, drawing the hat from his head to wrack a hand through his silky, short hair. The young Sarentu groaned. “I am such an idiot.” 

So’lek did not know what an idiot was, but he assumed it wasn’t anything good. He wanted to follow Tamtey, but when he turned towards the rest of the camp, she was already out of his sight. An annoyed huff left his lips. It could not be helped. 

He steered Teylan back into the tent, where they found Ri’nela unpacking Tamtey’s travel pack. Though there was barely anything to unpack. Tamtey travelled light. 

At their entrance, Ri’nela’s eyes turned back towards the tent flap, her eyes slightly widening in surprise as Teylan returned with So’lek. “So’lek,” she said, getting back on her feet. “I thought you were out hunting for the feast.”

“So I was,” he grunted, wiping his hands on his thighs, as if he hadn’t bathed just an hour before, to wash off the scent of blood and hide. “What is wrong with Tamtey?” He was not one to mince words. 

So’lek barely had a chance to see a flicker of sorrow pass through Ri’nela’s expression before she hid it behind a carefully neutral mask. “Tamtey was not feeling so well, so she left to get fresh air.”

It was a lie. So’lek could not wrap his head around that fact. A lie, and for what? His gaze turned to Teylan and narrowed. The young man started fiddling with his new clothes - provided for by the Zeswa -, his fingers counting the beads on his tewng.

“Teylan.”

Teylan startled, almost ripping the beads of his loincloth in the process with clumsy fingers, before his eyes met So’lek’s, for a singular second, and then moved in a hundred different directions at once. His gaze was restless. 

“So’lek! So happy to see you,” he stammered. “I heard Nesim has convinced you to take part in the games after all. That must be exciting, huh?” Teylan pushed his fist against So’lek’s arm in a playful gesture, though the man’s nervous energy did nothing to quell the tension in the tent. “Are you ready for the feast tonight? Ready to get your paint on-” Teylan’s voice trailed off, accompanied by nervous laughter. 

“I am sure you must be tired after your outing So’lek,” Ri’nela interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder as a friendly gesture, a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes. “And after taking out that drill site. Which is why Tamtey is also feeling tired. She’ll be back later.”

Words that should have felt reassuring, were not. Something was wrong with Tamtey and, So’lek realised as he gazed at the two Sarentu, the answer lay with Teylan. 

He gave Ri’nela a curt nod and then gave Teylan a look that gave no quarter. They were to speak. Now. 

Teylan’s eyes widened, but seemed to understand the threat in So’lek’s gaze. He swallowed. “I’m going to see the zakru.”

Ri’nela sighed. “Alright. Just make sure to be back in two hours. We have to get ready for the feast.”

Teylan was already out of the tent before she could reply. So’lek offered Ri’nela another nod before following the young Sarentu. He should have realised Teylan would try to scurry of by the look in his eyes, but as Teylan hurried of towards the pond where the zakru were actually gathered, So’lek stopped him once they reached the slope that led towards the water. 

Teylan groaned. “Please don’t be mad.”

So’lek’s forehead crinkled under his words. He then realised he must have looked rather… upset. ‘Wearing his stern face’ as Tamtey often scolded him. Tamtey was one of the only ones to see him, as he was. She often saw through his gaze and knew when he was simply happy, or concerned, or frustrated. She knew him better than most. Teylan did not. Not in the ways Tamtey did. 

“I’m not mad.” 

Teylan sputtered. “Not mad? Did you see the look on your face just now?” He withdrew his wrist from So’lek’s grip and put his hat back on his head, his face pinched. “Teylan,” he imitated So’lek’s tone, though it was not very successful and sounded more like a young winzaw trying to imitate a mature nantang. “You looked like a palulukan ready to pounce!” 

So’lek couldn’t help but snort at the visual in his head, and even Teylan had to chuckle at the words coming from his lips. Then, So’lek remembered why he had followed Teylan in the first place. 

“I did not mean to startle you, Teylan,” So’lek said, brow furrowed. “But Tamtey–”

Teylan hesitated. “I do not think she would like us talking about her. It feels wrong.”

Warmth bloomed inside So’lek’s chest at Teylan’s words. The Sarentu were family. Not bound by blood but bound by the promise of a shared future. They cared for each other, deeply, and their bond reminded So’lek of what he once had, and lost, and could have again. It was a beautiful thing to behold. 

“I simply wish to help. She did not look… well.”

Teylan groaned once more and leaned against one of the tent poles of a tent overlooking the pond. The zakru drank happily from it, content rumbles coming from below. It was a stark contrast to the anxious Na’vi men standing above. 

“It is my fault. I knew about the Zeswa traditions and completely forgot to tell her. I even made it a priority to find a solution before coming here, but I am not a gatherer.” Teylan’s brow furrowed as he rambled on. “And then I forgot to ask for help. And I had to help with SID and the other tech issues at the base…”

So’lek held up a hand. “Teylan, slow down.” He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and hoped he looked kind. “What are you talking about?”

Teylan breathed out slowly, meeting his gaze. “A tradition of the Great Games states that all who wish to compete have to be painted; it’s to symbolize their ascent to warriorhood, or so they say. It happens tonight, at the feast.”

“So?”

“So?!” Teylan exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration, though quickly realising that So’lek still had no idea what he was talking about, nor knew why he was so frustrated. He deflated. “I have not found a way for Tamtey to wear the paints, or to compete. And I forgot to tell her about the tradition. I had hoped to circumvent it so I did not have to, you see? I found an agent that could replace the one typically used in the paints the Na’vi make,” he rambled on, though So’lek only caught on to half he was saying. “But the agent is in an area riddled with RDA. There was no way for me to get it. And then I was too late to ask for help… So I didn’t tell Tamtey that I found something, because I didn’t want to get her hopes up. But now… she’s disappointed anyway.”

Now So’lek understood Teylan’s turmoil at Tamtey’s sudden departure. 

“Breathe, Teylan,” So’lek urged after the young man had finished his story. He shook his head. “What is this about an ‘agent’?” 

Teylan cracked a smile at So’lek’s pronunciation, but didn’t comment on it. 

“It is one of the components added to different ingredients to make paint. To bind it to the skin. If one just used the colour of a lionberry, for example, it wouldn’t stick.”

“Hmm.”

“But Tamtey’s body doesn’t react well to the binding agent the other Na’vi use to make paints, which is why she never wears any.” Teylan tilted his head to the side. “Did you never wonder why she never wears them?”

So’lek shook his head. “No. It is none of my business.”

But a little part of him had wondered why Tamtey had refused to wear paints. It was very common for warriors and other Na’vi to wear them, when going to battle or even when having celebrations, or just simply because they liked them. But now he knew why. He couldn’t help but wonder how they would look on her azure skin. A simmering orange to compliment her piercing eyes. Or a fiery red for her strong heart. Violet for her kindness. 

“This other… agent,” So’lek suddenly repeated. “Where can I find it?”

“So’lek…”

“Teylan. Where can I find it? What does it look like?”

“You don’t understand, So’lek. It is a sap… no… resin from a tree deep in the forest, near Shallow Creek. But we haven’t dismantled Eagle Alpha yet. It’s too dangerous to be close with their turrets-”

So’lek held up his hand. “Iley and I will get it. Just tell me what to look out for.” If he went now, he would be back before the celebration started, he pondered. And Iley would be strong enough to fly after resting for a while.

Teylan looked like he wanted to protest some more, especially since the RDA base was so close to the location of the rarest resin. You see, the resin needed to be of the best quality for it to work, to bond properly to the other ingredients for pigment. But So’lek seemed determined to do this. 

“Alright… it looks like this…” 

When Tamtey landed back at the Zeswa camp, it was roaring with sound, coming mostly from the central tent. Though a sense of guilt settled in her chest at her tardiness, she wondered if it really mattered, now she wasn’t competing. 

She dismounted Telisi and disconnected from her bonded, stroking her side with a gentle caress. “Irayo Telisi,” Tamtey murmured, her fingers stroking over Telisi’s black and darker purple markings along her head. Telisi tilted her head, leaning into Tamtey’s touch, making her smile. She unstrapped the saddle off Telisi’s back and took off her head- and tailpieces, scratching just where she knew the ikran liked. After Telisi had settled, Tamtey took a piece of winzaw-meat she had dried from her saddle bag and gave it to her ikran, who started chomping on it happily. 

Tamtey wiped her hands off her shorts and started making her way to the Sarentu tent after making sure Telisi was comfortable. The way there was quiet, as most had left for the celebration already. Laughter, music and light spilled from the main tent, which made Tamtey feel strange. 

She barely stepped one foot into the tent when Teylan pulled her inside, making her yelp and stumble over her feet. 

“Teylan!” Tamtey complained. “You scared me.”

“We have something for you,” Ri’nela quipped, a happy smile gracing her already beautiful features. She stepped forward and took Tamtey’s hands in her own. “First, you must get dressed.”

Tamtey felt her chest tighten. “Really, I said it’s alright-”

“We’ll have none of that,” Ri’nela said sternly, flashing her a look as she dragged Tamtey to the side, where there was a beautiful set of garments being presented on the makeshift table. “I made this especially for you, so it will hurt my feelings if you do not wear it tonight.”

Teylan chortled at Ri’nela’s shameless blackmail, making Tamtey huff. She really did not want to go, but she also did not want to disappoint her fellow Sarentu. Plus, it would be a chance to see So’lek in the first part of the Games. With a sigh, she relented.

The top Ri’nela had fashioned for her was an intricate weaving of beads, in greens ranging from the colour of dapophets to the bark of lizard trees. They lay on her chest perfectly, modest yet more revealing than anything she had ever worn. The loincloth consisted of a beautiful piece of emerald green silk, courtesy of Nefika, adorned with shimmering, iridescent beads that caught beautifully in the moonlight. 

It was the most beautiful thing Tamtey had ever worn. She hoped she was worth it. 

“Irayo, Ri’nela,” she murmured through the lump in her throat, as her friend stepped forward to grasp her hand and squeeze it. Her soft, light-green eyes looking as kind upon her friend as ever. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Tamtey,” she replied, smiling sweetly. 

Tamtey huffed out a laugh and wiped away the tears threatening to spill. 

“Are you ready for the second part?” Teylan’s head popped out from the tent flap. Seeing as Tamtey had gotten dressed, he entered again. Tamtey realised her fellow Sarentu also cleaned up nicely. They wore beautiful tops and loincloths, fashioned in Zeswa-style, with bright orange and yellow beads and feathers. 

“Second part?” Tamtey questioned, a frown on her brow. “Shouldn’t we go to the celebration? I thought it already started-”

Teylan shook his head. “Everyone has gathered, yes, but we still have some time before the initiation.”

Teylan’s words made Tamtey’s stomach twist in knots. She knew he meant well, but had he forgotten that she - under no circumstances - could wear the paint? And that she did not wish to compete if that wasn’t a possibility?

“Look, Teylan…” Tamtey began softly, before her eyes landed on the table to the far left, almost hidden away by the many tapestries hanging from the ceiling of the tent. Her feet moved towards it before she consciously thought about it, her brain not quite catching on what she was seeing. It was a tray with an assortment of paints, four of them, in her favorite colours, ranging from an iridescent silver to a rich purple. 

“What is-” Tamtey stammered, her fingers reaching out towards the paint that did not look like any regular paint. It was slightly thicker and looked freshly mixed. 

“We managed to find an agent that works as a replacement for the agent commonly used; scarlet bark resin,” Teylay told her with an excited tone, appearing at her side, his eyes on the paint. “You’ve already been in contact with it, when you got it from Etuwa as a gift for guiding the Kinglor, so I knew it would be safe.” 

Tamtey was speechless, her eyes trained on the paints. “You made these?” she asked, her voice smaller than she would have liked. “For me?” Her chest felt tight.

Teylan shook his head wildly next to her, drawing her attention. 

“No,” Ri’nela spoke up, her voice melodious yet soft, filled with warmth. “So’lek did.”

Tamtey’s brain short-circuited. So’lek did?

Her friend next to her started nodding fiercely, the beads in his hair - that escaped from under his hat - swishing with the motion. “Yes! I wanted to before, but there was no time. But he managed to get so many samples to give to me. He said it was no trouble at all, that he was happy to do it.” Teylan seemed hesitant about his next words. “Though he seemed a bit winded. It was close to Eagle Alpha after all.”

“Eagle Alpha?” Tamtey asked, blood draining from her face, nails digging into her thighs for support. “Is he out of his mind?” she said, her voice ranging on borderline frantic. She swished to look at Ri’nela. “Did you know about this?”

Ri’nela shook her head. “No, but you know So’lek. When he wants to do something, he will do it. Whether we approve or not.”

Tamtey felt an uncomfortable unease settle into her chest. So’lek had risked his life to get the agent for these beautiful paints. For something so trivial. The thought of him getting hurt, being killed, for paints, was almost too terrible to think about too long. 

“Ri’nela is right. He could not be swayed, even when I reminded him of the danger.” Teylan tried to comfort her, she knew, but it was no use. Tamtey was angry. No, furious. 

“I must speak with him,” Tamtey said, simply, and started towards the tent flap. 

Ri’nela had a knowing smile on her face. Perhaps this could be the final step towards getting these two stubborn angtsìk to admit their feelings for one another. It was becoming quite unbearable to witness both their relentless pining. 

Teylan opened his mouth to protest, saying she’d forgotten her paints, when Ri’nela squeezed his arm with a knowing smile. 

“You will find So’lek in his tent, which you will find to the far east. You cannot miss it. The man insists on camping alone.” Ri’nela told Tamtey, making her pause on her way out. “We will see you at the celebration, I hope?”

Tamtey huffed but nodded anyway, before stalking away towards So’lek’s tent. 

“You know what’s scarier than an angry So’lek?” Teylan asked, staring at the tentflap swishing in the wind after Tamtey’s departure.

Ri’nela turned towards her fellow Sarentu, chuckling. “What?”

Teylan shuddered. “An angry Tamtey.”

Tamtey surprised herself by simply pushing past the tentflap and stepping inside So’lek’s tent without announcing herself. Her strides were quick and hurried, fueled by a simmering underneath her skin that could light a fire on its own. 

She had not expected to find So’lek without his chest guard, applying salve to a wound on the back of his bicep that he could barely reach. 

Tamtey stuttered in her steps as she met his gaze, which made him pause his movements. 

“Tamtey,” So’lek spoke, and he seemed almost relieved at the sight of her. “You’re back.”

It was then that Tamtey realised she was supposed to be mad at this man. “Yes, and I cannot believe what I heard! You went to Shallow Creek, so close to that cursed RDA base, alone. Are you out of your mind? You could have been hurt – you were hurt!”

“It is nothing,” So’lek told her, voice soft. “One singular bullet grazed me on my way back. I am alright, Tamtey.” He took a step towards her, arms wide now, to show that there were no other marks, no wounds on his body, but Tamtey couldn’t see it. 

Her chest felt too tight. “You could have been hurt more, you could have – you could have been killed, and for what?” Tears rose to the surface, millions of läkri crawling under her skin at the unbearable thought of So’lek risking his life for something like this. “For some paints?”

So’lek’s eyes softened, and he reached for her arms, even though she could see it caused him discomfort. She shook her head, trying to wrestle free, but the warrior held firm. 

“Tamtey, look at me,” So’lek hushed, seeing her anxiety written on her face. “I am alright. I promise, ma’yawntu.”

Tamtey’s heart was hammering in her chest; she could barely hear So’lek over the rushing in her ears. So’lek took her hand in his and pressed both of their hands against her chest. It was almost embarrassing how easily his touch settled her. She drew in gentle breaths, following along So’lek as he gently let her breathe in his presence, steadying her. 

“I do not want you to get hurt because of… because of me,” Tamtey whispered, shutting her eyes tight for a second, not wanting to bear witness to his wound once more. A reminder of what had happened. “The thought of it is unbearable, So’lek.”

So’lek moved his hand to cradle her cheek. Her breath hitched in her throat. The feeling of his calloused fingers on her soft skin made her pause, her eyes opening on their own accord. 

He was impossibly close. 

“And I cannot bear the thought of you being hurt, ma’Tamtey.” So’lek’s gaze pierced through her spirit, his voice unbearably gentle. His thumb stroked her Sarentu-mark, making her heart stutter. “That is unbearable to me. You deserve the paints.” 

So’lek hesitated for a second, and he seemed to remember himself, taking a step back and dropping his hand. Tamtey instantly felt the loss of his touch like a cold wind rushing through her. “And more.”

“I…” Tamtey stammered, before another wince from So’lek drew her out of her racing heartbeat and unsteady breath. “Why didn’t you come to the others? We could have dressed the wound properly,” she scolded him, before making him sit down at the edge of the table where he had his healing supplies. 

So’lek did not let anyone boss him around, but this time he went willingly, settling his hips against the table, his eyes never leaving his Sarentu.

So’lek grunted. “I did not wish to burden anyone. It will be fine, Tamtey, it is merely a graze.”

Tamtey huffed, her fingers dipping into the dapophet salve and applying it generously to the wound, making So’lek hiss out in pain as the cool formula touched the open skin. Tamtey shook her head. “You big baby. I thought it was just a graze?”

“And I thought I could have been hurt far worse?” Though his voice sounded serious, Tamtey knew better. He was teasing her. The fiend. “Should you be scolding your patient, Sarentu?”

Tamtey huffed once more, and she couldn’t help but smile a little at his remark. She made sure to apply the dapophet-skins extra tight around his bicep as she wrapped the wound in a makeshift bandage. So’lek grunted as she did, eyeing her with a twinkle in his eye. Her heartbeat had finally settled to a normal rhythm. He would suffer punishment from her for his whole lifetime if it meant making her smile. 

“There,” she murmured, finally, stepping back to admire her work. “Ready to join the competition.”

So’lek groaned at her comment and pressed the back of his hands against his eyes before getting on his feet. He reached for his trusty chest guard and started strapping it back on. Tamtey noticed he was having some trouble with the side buckles, so she stepped forward automatically, her heart in her throat.

“Here, let me.”

With deft fingers she started buckling the straps, making sure to not accidentally touch his bicep in the process. She could feel So’lek’s gaze on her as she did, making heat pool in her stomach. She made the mistake of meeting his eyes once, and the way he was looking at her made her breath stutter in her chest. 

“Irayo.” So’lek’s voice was rough as he thanked her. 

Tamtey simply nodded, not trusting her voice. 

This strange dynamic between them felt like a wire being drawn tighter and tighter,  and Tamtey wondered what would happen when it finally snapped. 

“Let’s go then; hopefully we can still make the initiation. That’s kind of vital for you, being a competitor and all, you know?”

Tamtey started to make her way out of the tent, when So’lek grasped her hand and interlaced their fingers, pulling her along. He did not make for the celebration, though, instead opting to drag her back to the Sarentu-camp. 

“So’lek, what-”

“You would not cheat this ‘big baby’ of witnessing his hard work being paid off, would you, Tamtey?”

Tamtey felt a heat rush to her cheeks. “I… well… I suppose not-”

So’lek hmmpfed at her reply and rushed her inside to the paints. The tent was softly lit by firelight, which Ri’nela and Teylan had not extinguished before they left. Tamtey felt her cheeks warm further. They must have realised she would be back. Or that So’lek would drag her back. That last option had probably seemed more likely. 

“There,” So’lek murmured, gesturing towards the paints. “Now you can get ready.”

So’lek turned to leave, but she grasped at his wrist with both hands, stopping him in his tracks. She felt a sudden boldness within her, something she almost didn’t recognise. “If you are so keen on seeing your hard work, then I imagine you could do it, couldn’t you?”

So’lek tilted his head to the side, not-understanding, his eyes trailing over her body as if seeing her for the first time in this light. She could see his cheeks becoming purple as he quickly realised she was not wearing the shorts and chest guard she usually wore, but something far more revealing. “I…”

Tamtey pushed the iridescent paint into his hands, which quickly cupped the bowl, and sat down on the edge of the table next to the other paints. “It is your punishment for taking such a risk,” she said, nearly sounding breathless. She stared at him as he looked at the paint within the bowl, and wondered if he would say no. Her heart tightened painfully in her chest at the thought. 

So’lek huffed, but started gathering the paint on his fingers despite the noise of protest that just left his lips. Tamtey then realised that this had sounded like a really good idea in her head, but had not realised the physicality of it, especially as So’lek’s fingers gently started to draw patterns on her right calf. 

Her cheeks felt hot as she watched him work with an utterly focused, yet somehow fascinated gaze, softly trailing his fingers over her exposed skin. His touch was featherlight, but left a heat in its wake that simmered low in her belly. Tamtey bit her lip. 

“Is this alright?”

“Hmm?” Tamtey murmured, then quickly realising he had asked her a question. “Ah.. y-yes. Perfect, yes.”

So’lek’s lips curled up into a grin, barely, and he started to draw more and more, his hands gaining confidence. His fingers trailed over her form, from her calves to her thighs, from her hips to her arms, with a gentleness to it that made her heart flutter. She dug her nails into the wood of the table below her, specifically when his fingers trailed over her midriff, close to her chest. He made her get up, then, to do the back of her legs and her back, which made her cheeks heat up once more. She was sure she looked more purple then blue, right there and then. 

Tamtey carefully slid off the table and turned around for So’lek, whose breath stuttered as he beheld her form from behind. Tamtey reached out for her kuru, but So’lek was already there, gently brushing the braid, and her silky, beaded hair, over her shoulder now that her front was dry. Tamtey’s chest tightened at the motion, her heart fluttering as she stared at the back of the tent. It was nearly unbearable, to listen to him swirl the paint on his fingers, to feel them on her skin and not see him. 

The only sounds in the tent were their intermingled breaths, heavier than before. 

Tamtey felt a heat pool in her belly as he trailed a particular broad stripe from the back of her thigh to her hip. It was as if his fingers were on fire, and she was not fireproof. 

His hands steadied her waist, suddenly, making her breath stutter in her chest as he gently made her turn around, making sure his fingers didn’t smudge any of the paint. He was being unbearably careful. It was adorable. 

He then took the bowl of orange paint in his hands, one of her favorites, and covered his fingers in it. He seemed to hesitate for a second, his paint-covered hand hovering near her face. 

“Is this alright?” So’lek murmured, his voice rough. His pupils were wide, his fingers trembling as he set down the bowl of paint by her side. If anything, he seemed similarly afflicted, just as bad as her. She wondered if he felt the same as her. This unbearable heat between them. This longing that seemed to get stronger with each passing moment. 

“Yes,” she breathed out, ever so softly, eyes almost closed as she gazed at the man before her. “Please.”

So’lek started to trail a path on her cheek with his thumb, so slowly Tamtey could feel every press of his skin against her own. It was agonizing. When his fingertips slowly slid over her lips, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was too much. It was unfair. 

What was she doing? She was torturing herself and it was all her own doing. She had asked for this. Had invited So’lek touch like it was nothing, even though it was everything  to her. He set her skin aflame without a thought, and it ached. 

“So’lek,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse as she grasped at his wrist to stop his movements near her left cheek. “I-”

“Ma'Tamtey,” So’lek murmured, his gaze trailing over every inch of her face, his breath coming fast. “Oel nagti kamaie.” 

Tamtey drew in a sharp breath as one of his hands reached up to cradle her cheek, while the other rested on the table beside her, with its edge now pressing into her back. Had he always been this close? Tamtey’s breath stuttered in her chest, her eyes lost in So’lek’s. 

Before she knew what was happening, his lips pressed against her own, ever so softly, a featherlight touch of a kiss, but it sent her heart into overdrive, beating against her chest as if it wanted out. Tamtey leaned into his kiss, reaching to hold his waist to draw him closer, as if such a thing were possible. 

So’lek inhaled sharply against her lips and reached up to caress her face with both of his hands, making her exhale softly, her breath a whisper into the dim firelight. Both of them leaned into the other, wanting to get even closer, to hold on tighter, but it never seemed enough. So’lek groaned against Tamtey’s lips as she stroked his waist, her movements pure instinct. 

A clattering noise from outside startled them apart by a mere step, both breathing hard and fast. They both stared at each other breathlessly, speechlessly. Tamtey did not know what to think. Her brain had turned to mush. 

“Ma’yawne,” So’lek murmured, fondly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. 

Tamtey felt warmth blossom in her chest, and a smile bloom on her face. She took his hand from her cheek and held it in her own, intertwining their fingers with a soft gaze at the normally so-stern looking Na’vi in front of her, now turned into the gentle, fiercely protective man few really knew. 

“Oel ngati kameie, ma’So’lek,” Tamtey whispered, the words settling into her chest like a promise. 

So’lek smiled, a rare precious thing, and pressed the softest of kisses to her palm. 

A beat of silence, of shared elation and adoration, and then:

“I cannot believe you ruined your own handiwork.”

“Tamtey.”