Chapter Text
- 2169 -
FOLLOWING THE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT THE Great Games would once again commence in the Upper Plains, Teylan had decided that it was finally time to face his fears and venture further across Pandora. After all, had he not travelled quite far already, finding himself in the Clouded Forest?
Though, obviously, that had been for a very…different reason.
A fresh wave of shame washed over the young Sarentu at the thought. Especially as he sat here, in the Resistance Samson, right alongside all the humans he had very nearly killed when he stupidly let himself trust Mercer—again. Teylan hung his head, ears pinking.
Tamtey, So'lek, and Ri'nela had all taken their ikran to the camp which had sprung up around the Game grounds. Teylan would’ve given anything to have Tamtey, or even So'lek, here with him now. Something about those two allowed Teylan to believe that everything would be okay—that one day he would earn everyone’s forgiveness, and maybe one good deed after another would allow him to put his mistakes behind him. Not that he should have to put everything behind him, or forget what he had caused. He would live with that pain for the rest of his life.
The knowledge that he had caused the deaths of his friends.
At the very least, he hoped that he could atone for such a grave error. That he could make the most of the memories of those lost, being there to support the ones they had left behind. Tamtey had become his confidant of late, assuring Teylan that there was still good in him. But So'lek…So'lek felt like the older brother Teylan had never gotten to know. The older brother lost to the disastrous last Moot of the Sarentu. Something that had been completely orchestrated by Mercer, the one person Teylan had always been so desperate to impress.
He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. Stupid, stupid, Teylan chided himself, fingers knotting through his short hair.
“Hey, you okay?” Priya asked.
Teylan’s chin jerked up, wide eyes landing on the human’s bunched brows, her lips pulled tight, eyes creased at the corners. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I just…I think the ride is making me a little queasy.”
“You need anything?” she pressed, leaning toward him as far as her seatbelt would allow.
“No, no I’m okay. But thank you,” Teylan murmured, throwing Priya a weak smile.
Though she chewed at her lip, she seemed to accept the lie, shifting in her seat.
“All right guys, getting ready to land,” Anqa’s voice rumbled through the comms.
Teylan’s fingers wrapped around the tight straps of his own seatbelt as he tried to calm his racing heart. What would the clans think of him? Would he be shunned? He wouldn’t be surprised if so; he had cost them all the lives of valuable allies, Sky People or not. Would they judge him, so much like a Sky Person himself? Would they think him a monster for following Mercer’s lead time and time again?
No, I was the one to ensure his death, Teylan told himself, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to envision anything other than the man he had seen as a father pinned against the concrete wall, so far underground. Without any chance of escape. As a sliver of pity wormed its way into Teylan’s heart, he repeated the now-familiar mantra to himself.
He killed my family. He decimated the Sarentu. He took Tamtey. He hit the Resistance.
The Samson swayed as the ground seemed to rise up to meet it. With a bump, the aircraft landed, rotors whirring as they powered down. Priya deftly unlatched her seatbelt, eyeing Teylan warily before sliding from her seat. “You sure you’re all right?” she asked again.
“Perfectly fine,” Teylan chirped, fumbling for the buckle of his own seatbelt. Once he was released, he tripped out of the aircraft, suddenly enveloped in the bright daylight of the Upper Plans. And…
Teylan marvelled at the beauty of the landscape before him. Everything was so wide and open and free. In every way that the Kìnglor Forest frightened him—what with dark pockets, gleaming eyes, and the unsettling calls of unfamiliar animals—the Plains were utterly different. The long grasses sang with the breeze, washing over his skin like a cleansing river. Teylan closed his eyes against the light, drinking in its blanketing warmth. He could learn to love a place like this.
“Ah, Teylan!” Nesim called, bounding toward him. He went rigid, expecting to be met with her judgment, her ridicule, her much-deserved hatred for him. But the Olo’eykte of the Zeswa merely grinned at the young Sarentu. “I am glad to see you well, 'evan!”
“I-I am glad to see you too, Nesim,” Teylan nodded, voice soft. “Thank you for welcoming me to your camp, and to the Games.” He knew she certainly hadn’t needed to—the gesture was a kindness he wasn’t sure he deserved.
As if she had read his mind—though, maybe the direction of his thoughts had been etched across his features like warpaint—Nesim waved her hand. “Nonsense, ma'Teylan. We are happy to have you here. Will you be joining in the competitions?”
His cheeks instantly pinked as he shook his head. “I am not much of an athlete.”
Nesim’s grin deepened. “Have you ever tried?” she pressed. Again, Teylan shook his head. Nesim clicked her tongue. “Follow me, Sarentu. I will place you in the care of one of our best pa'li makto. I have a feeling you two may get along well.”
The direhorse rider was only a few tents down, chatting away with a cluster of other young Zeswa, leading the tale with lively hand movements and silly voices. She seemed warm and personable, instantly setting Teylan at ease. Or, at least, he wasn’t quite so deep beneath the pool of dread which constantly threatened to drown him.
“Zeswa!” At the sound of their Olo'eykte’s commanding voice, the gathered Na’vi shot to their feet, the rider’s story coming to an abrupt end. “As you can see, the Sarentu—as well as the Sky People of the Resistance—have finally arrived. Rutxe, make them feel welcome. Manga,” Nesim turned toward the rider. “Our 'eylan is unfamiliar with our ways, and I would hate to see him miss the tumult of the games because of it. Will you introduce him to some of the pa'liay?”
The young woman instantly nodded, turning her kind smile from her Olo'eykte to Teylan. “I would be glad to,” she chirped, gold eyes gleaming.
Teylan couldn’t help but study the intricate braids in her hair, the way the style perfectly framed her heart-shaped face, twisting over her temples. Orange paint streaked across her cheeks and nose, making her look even more welcoming, somehow. Maybe it was because orange had always been Teylan’s favorite color.
“I-irayo,” he murmured, awkwardly folding his hand over his heart as he had seen his friends do so often.
“You have not ridden a pa'li?” the young woman asked, lips curled in a mischievous smirk.
Teylan quickly shook his head, cheeks warming. “I have never been around animals, really. I find them fascinating, but they don’t seem to like me very much. Why is that, do you think? Is it because of the time I spent around the Sky People, or is there something wrong with me?”
The young Zeswa laughed, a bright, tinkling noise that reminded Teylan a bit of chimes in the wind. He found himself relaxing at the sound, just slightly. “Do you always talk this much?” she chuckled, golden eyes glinting.
“Usually,” Teylan admitted. “S-sorry.”
Her hand shot out, clasping Teylan’s shoulder. He stiffened. “Do not be sorry,” she said, voice soft. “And there is nothing wrong with you, 'eylanay. I think that, maybe, you simply need to try a gentler approach.”
In a rare moment of boldness, Teylan blurted, “Will you show me how?”
The young woman grinned, her hand sliding from Teylan’s shoulder to his wrist, dragging him behind her as she spun on her heel. He stumbled after her as she led him between the shaggy silhouettes of sheltering bushpods, trembling in the breeze. Their feet skidded down the sloped ground, carrying them toward the rippling stream below.
Teylan’s breath caught. All around the stream, direhorses were gathered, heads shaking, chuffing as they shuffled through the windswept grasses. “Za'u, 'eylanay,” the young woman urged, pulling Teylan toward the creatures.
“Wait!” he cried, grinding to a halt. The young Zeswa turned, brow furrowed. “Aren’t they…dangerous?”
Again she laughed, but this time, Teylan couldn’t help but wonder if she was mocking him. “Mawey, Sarentu. The pa'li will not hurt you—not with me as your guide. Now, za'u.”
She inched toward the creatures once more, yanking at Teylan’s wrist. He followed, heart hammering as they came before the little herd.
“Kaltxì, tìloray,” she cooed, releasing her grip over Teylan in order to hold her hands out to one of the direhorses. Teylan watched in awe as the animal broke from the group, stepping toward her. “Tam tam, tìlor,” she whispered. Once the direhorse’s muzzle slid within her waiting grasp, the Zeswa rested her cheek along the creature’s forehead, her eyes slipping closed. “You must show them that you are calm, that you are not here to hurt them. That you are their 'eylan.”
“Okay,” Teylan nodded, “but what else?”
The young woman shrugged, the beads on her cuirass clinking together. “There is nothing else. Try it for yourself.”
Sucking in a grounding breath, Teylan faced another of the direhorses. “Hey there,” he whispered as the animal glanced at him. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he promised. “I just wanna be your friend.”
The creature huffed, stomping its hooves, kicking up specks of mud. As it sped off, Teylan’s shoulders sagged. He looked to his instructor for guidance.
“Try again,” she nodded, fingers caressing her direhorse’s snout. “Be persistent.”
Setting his sights on another of the herd, Teylan crept toward them. “Hello,” he murmured, holding his hands out as the Zeswa had done. “It’s all right. You’ll be fine.” He inched forward, as slowly as a kite manta, steadying his breathing. “You can trust me.”
Though the direhorse snorted, it did not run off. Putting one foot before the other, Teylan shuffled forward, knees bent, hands up. The animal held its ground as Teylan came before it, softly tracing the tips of his fingers up the direhorse’s muzzle. It chuffed, but allowed the contact.
“There you go!” the Zeswa exclaimed, her smile evident in her voice. “Now, quick, your tswin. Make tsaheylu with her. Show her that you are her 'eylan.”
Teylan did as he was bid, sliding his kuru over his shoulder. At TAP, he had been taught to ignore the braid. To detest it, even. Once, Mercer had called it a dirty, bizarre rope of filth. Teylan had never imagined that he might one day be making use of the strands to connect to another of Eywa’s creatures.
The tendrils of his kuru twisted and danced, seemingly thrilled at the idea of tsaheylu. As he held the braid toward that of the direhorse, their tendrils wove together. Teylan staggered back at the force of the connection, catching himself against the animal’s rump. He could feel her—actually feel her. The air coursing through her lungs, the shifting of muscles as she lifted her leg, the way that the sun warmed her back. “Woah,” Teylan breathed.
“Now you may mount her,” the young rider called. “You two will move as one—your thoughts will direct her path.”
“M-mount her?” Teylan echoed, turning to face the young Zeswa with wide eyes. “But…she’s so tall.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “I believe in you, 'eylanay. Go on!”
Gracelessly throwing his arm over the direhorse’s shoulders, Teylan pulled himself up, belly sliding along her back. Once he was seated with one leg bracing either side of her ribs, he sat up. “This doesn’t seem safe,” he said, voice wavering.
“You will be fine, I promise you,” the rider answered, walking over. The other direhorse trailed behind her like a curious child. As she stroked the neck of Teylan’s mount, she murmured, “Start slow, then. Urge her onward.”
With a nod, Teylan thought, walk. And to his endless surprise, the creature lurched forward. He struggled to keep his balance, glancing between his direhorse’s bobbing head and the Zeswa’s brilliant grin. “Like this?” he called.
“Exactly like that,” she assured him. “You are doing well!”
The direhorse circled the Zeswa and the other creature from her herd, taking to prancing elegantly. Teylan held fast to the animal’s kurus, terrified of slipping from his perch over her back, despite the Zeswa swearing that he would not. Eventually, the circling began to render Teylan a bit dizzy, and he urged the direhorse to a stop. He slid down her side, legs shaking, and awkwardly patted her neck before darting toward his instructor.
“Be proud of yourself, Sarentu,” she said, folding his hands within her own. Teylan’s breath caught at her warm touch. “And should you ever wish to befriend another pa'li, you will be able to find me in the camp.” The Zeswa gave his fingers a brief squeeze before she turned to trudge back up the hill.
“Hey!” Teylan called. The young woman glanced over her shoulder. “What is your name? I’m Teylan, of the Sarentu.” He quickly shook his head. “But you knew that, of course.”
She smiled once more, and it was like the first rays of sunlight after a week-long thunderstorm. “Smon nìprrte', Teylan,” she giggled. “Oeru syaw Solali te Rano Akyra'ite.” Her grin deepened, causing Teylan’s heart to flip. He wasn’t quite sure why that was.
“It is nice to meet you, Solali,” he murmured.
“Oel ngati kameie, ma'Teylan,” she gently corrected. “That is how we greet each other.”
“Oel ngati kameie, ma'Solali,” Teylan amended, trying not to fumble over the greeting, remembering how the words of the Na’vi had once filled his head, his dreams.
Maybe they could again.