Pandorafallz

Nan’atí shook her head a little. “<Removing your tea was impolite but to reference that my rudeness came from a place of ignorance, as I did not know your name. I called you Dreamwalker, which is not a correct statement nor was it polite. I am sorry for that and I hope that there is no animosity to grow between our peoples.>”

The other woman stared at her for the longest moments, ears twitching a mild sense of confusion. “<Why… do you think its offensive?>”

“<Hope mentioned to me some time after that you were transferred into this body from your form of birth. You are awake and living within that body as your own. A singular being. You are not dream walking, therefor you cannot be a dream walker. Whilst you carry a few remnants of a human life within this body, I see no reason why you are not considered Na’vi.>” Nan’atí said, eyes flickering to the extra finger she had on her hand. An extra finger. Eyebrows. A lower kuru. This woman’s eye size was barely smaller than Nesim so she barely considered that a difference. That was the only cosmetic difference. Biological, they were Na’vi.

“<’Na’vi’ carries cultural weight that I do not share.>” Vanessa said, turning her gaze into her mug, as if that excused anything.

Nan’atí moved and sat down slowly. “<But you do. You show clear signs that you have integrated and lived with a Na’vi clan. Omatikaya. It is a different weight, but a weight you have earned since the first felling of the Sky people.>” She sighed shallowly. “<The use of the word ‘Dreamwalker’, should no longer be used in reference you. Now, it is a tool the people can use to undermine you due to the nature of this body’s birth, not for the person you’ve grown to be. The word carried a negative stigma, not a description. They see what you used to be. You must show them who you are now.>”

Vanessa stared for a moment, straightening up as she clearly thought about it. Perhaps she had not considered it but Nan’atí felt it was time for this woman to grow beyond and just accept the subtle bias and prejudice that the people, understandably, had. Some cases, it was fair; their enemies, but it was unfair towards their allies.

She was a woman of the Omatikaya way of life at the very least, even if not a daughter of that clan officially, because Nan’atí wasn’t aware if Vanessa had gone through the rites or not. From the whispers of what happened with Toruk Makto from their time traveling, they heard enough of how he became one of the people. The clan would have had to come together to pass her through the eye of Eywa to allow the transfer into her new body. Nan’atí knew the way of the people and carried their culture in her clothes, her hair and clearly her pallet to, based off the tea she had, no doubt brought from the Omatikaya forests.

“<Are you saying people have been using the word ‘Dreamwalker’ as a slur towards me?>” Vanessa asked quietly.

“<It can be, but the tone and context can matter. There is ignorance. A Na’vi would not go speaking to another Na’vi and state ‘Na’vi’ in general conversation to draw attention, instead of their name or other visual cue. ‘Omatikaya woman’ ‘Zeswa man’, ‘Kame’tire person’, ‘woman with the paints and shaved head’. A human would not address another human as ‘human’.>” Nan’atí explained. “<There is also a… stereotype, as the concept was explained, that Dreamwalkers are dim, curious people, with weird differences that are unsettling to witness. Most of the people make assumptions based off that belief.>

Vanessa winced a little, taking a heavy gulp of tea. “Wonderful.”

“<I do not bring it up to offend you, I apologise.>”

Vanessa shook her head, “<No, no. It’s not you. It just… no one had taken the time to explain stuff like that to me, especially outside the Omatikaya. They’re used to us and for people like me, and like Jake, they treated us like equals. Especially after our rites. Out here, it’s been frustrating to be treated like an idiot or something. Many people have doubted my experiences and training just because I was not born native to this world. As if I never have learned anything in my time here.>”

Nan’atí frowned. “<That was wrong of them.>” She pursed her lips. “<I am sorry for your ordeals.>”

“<How can I combat that?>” This was more of a quiet mutter, the woman’s fingers tapped along her mug.

“<Would you like to join us for our evening meal, Vanessa?>” Nan’atí offered. “<We have a space open for you and your mate. I have some foods that’d be safe for your pregnancy if you haven’t been given anything already.>”

The other woman looked up from her thoughts, frowning a little. “<I… Can I think about it?>”

“<Of course. Food will be served in an hour, should you decide to come>” Nan’atí rose to her feet and departed politely.

-

Mäzan te Tslìngol Tsì'a'itan, once a son of the Meitayo clan; now an outcast outrider for the Tlalim clan, flew in relative peace, as he had done for the last few months since they left their Northern Swamp islands. His eyes scanning the horizon as his beautiful Ikran cut through the sky.

There was only an edge of nervousness in the air, permeating mostly from the muri few and how they moved and navigated their great ships. The winds had carried them flying close to an area that, more often than not, had easy means of ambushes. Raiders were not common normally. Only a few clans were avoided at all costs and the Windtraders were excellent archers to defend their floating home as they travelled. But that didn’t mean a few weren’t unfortunate. Some gondolas were lost over the years in risky areas.

There were five ships in this caravan trail. If there was an attack, they’d target at least one to bring it down to the floor. The other gondolas were told never to turn back, which would risk the remaining ships. Those with Ikrans would circle back after a half day or so for the bodies for funeral rites or survivors. A necessary brutal reality that Mäzan had forced himself to learn in his time here.

Here, Mäzan wasn’t the only one weary, as were the other outriders as they flew in formation towards the western air flow. Mangkwan were far closer here than anywhere else. His hand was tight on his bow. Once they were out of these mountain ranges, they’d be safe. They could relax.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him look, relaxing for a second to see it was Wena who was taking place to cover his right. His friend from childhood, who he had stuck beside through thick and thin but her actions had led them both from their clan. He did not regret taking her side, but he knew she regretted his loyalty that forced him out as proxy. But they had each other, and it was nice to have an element of home on their travels.

[Ten minutes until we are clear] Wena signed from her Ikran.

[I will fly the flank on the last ship. It is too open] Mäzan decided, peeling back from his position, which Wena took over from and hurriedly moved to position, but as he did so, his eyes caught the movement in the distance and the smell of ash in the air.

Mangkwan raiders.

-

Hope sat quietly, grinning as she picked at her plate between mask lifts to eat and drink as Javier juggled four fabric covered seed ‘balls’, heavy enough to flow in the air but light enough to not be a concern, at least in human hands. Dhampyr strength, it was more effort to control his juggling to avoid slip-ups.

But her younger brother was enjoying the process, having finished eating early and they were sharing drinks with barely any visitors from the other clans. Haydon was the quietest, sitting down and tatting a new piece with quick and rapid skill with his new silk threads.

Tahira was gnawing on a bone to strip as much of the meat off as possible since there were few eyes their way, allowing her longer without ‘mask breaths’.

“<Over here!>” Nan’atí called.

Hope startled, her head turning sharply to see two tall forms head their way. Tahira shoved her mask back on quickly, tossing the bone into the bowl and moved to fill it with liquid to clean them for crafting, stepping around Hapuk who was playing with his woven toys beside their feet.

Vanessa was holding her husband’s hands, leading him mostly to them, their yellow eyes flickering between with some level of hesitancy but Hope smiled and waved them in. Nan’atí had said she had expended an offer to the two and Hope was glad for them taking the chance.

“<Come, Come.>” Nan’atí said, “<We have much food for you to eat.>”

“<I see you.>” The man said, being formal in his greeting. “<Since we have had no formal introduction, I am Daniel. We are grateful for the invitation to your campfire.>”

“<I see you, Daniel, Vanessa.>” Nan’atí said, “<I am pleased you to have accepted. We kept some food on the heat for you just in case you turned up later.>” She gestured the two to the open spot.

Hope moved, taking her bowl with her and moved to sit beside Vanessa.

Daisy-Blue moved and sat on the grass, looking up at the two curiously with her own bowl of nibbles. “<What clan were you from?>” She asked, “<That weave is beautiful.>”

Daniel’s head turned down to the girl, then to his cummerbund he had on, where her eyes were lingering. “<Omatikaya. Those who have accomplished the dream hunt are entitled to wear it.>”

“<Dreamhunt, the rite of age ritual?>” Daisy-Blue asked.

“<Yes.>” Vanessa chuckled. “<Not many people outside the clan know. I’ve opted to talk Daniel into wearing his cummerbund to show off our place among the people.>” There was a slight frustrated eye-roll.

Hope’s head tilted. So these people were actually culturally and spiritually Omatikaya. To be a child of a clan rather than just simply allies that lived with them. Hope felt a little stupid for her assumptions… how unbecoming of her.

“<That’s wonderful. Another clan to add to the Great Games.>” Mìtsreng said, eyes lighting up. “<Zeswa, Aranahe, Kame’tire, Sarentu. Now, Omatikaya! The Omatikaya have not taken part in these games for generations due to how far the clans are for these events.>”

“<Let’s not get carried away.>” Daniel said, scratching his chin though he looked a little awkward.

“<You are a child of the clan. Accepted by the clan and have done your rites by them. You are Omatikaya, even if you are not, on a biological level.>” Hope said, hoping to help. “<I am human, but I am also Txon’lanteyu.>” If that made any sense. Txon’lanteyu Clan were still so new but far more open with their people. Human, Na’vi, Dhampyrs and the vampires. Blood Kin. They had, technically dropped the word ‘vampire’ in reference to their turned people due to the fact the more negative connotations the myth humans had of them. But Hope had no idea if they were still using it as a placeholder name, as Dhampyrs for the half-bloods.

“<Let is not devolve this conversation, children.>” Nan’atí said, eyeing the kids more with a delicate look. “<Since we’re going to be here for another two days, we must discuss what we will be doing here. We might as well make the most of it.>”

That, thankfully brought some attention away from their guests who visibly settled and ate their food happily.

“<I want to hunt a Vekreng>” Javier said, his eyes alight. “<A good quality creature. The Hide and the claws is what I really want.>”

“<I can join you tomorrow.>” Tarsím said, “<I can spare the time to get the body processed. I do wish to partake of the games. The Archery is interesting.>”

“<I want to trade some of the powdered clay we have gathered.>” Tahira said, “<The Kame’tire have some wood shaping techniques I would like to see>”

“<I’m just gonna lurk.>” Hope said, frowning lightly. “<I can’t join the games and I really just want to stay close to home.>”

“<Then do you mind looking after Hapuk?>” Nan’atí asked. “<I plan to do some of te games and set our clan into the murals. If we’re gonna be here, I want to make sure people know our clan’s strength, despite our small, multi-raced clan.>”

“<I can spare a few hours. It’ll give me a reason to avoid the Resistance humans, they keep talking to me in English and it’s getting on my nerves.>” Not the language, of course, but the assumption she could speak it.

“<Oh, you weren’t taught English?>” This was Daniel now, looking genuinely surprised.

“<No. Like, my first few years I did but Na’vi was prioritised. A few words at best. Canadian French was is the main Earth language I know but that’s because my mother wanted me to retain some of that personal history from my birth mother.>” Hope explained. “<English doesn’t seem too important to me. Na’vi is the only language I need to know.>”

“<So all the people in the resistance assume you speak English.>”

“<Yep.>” She lifted her mask, taking a deep sip and put her mask back with a huff. “<I’ll just avoid them for now. Oh, that does remind me, why are those Sarentu people stare at me a lot? It’s starting to annoy me as well. Do I have to avoid them too for whatever reason?>”

Both Vanessa and Daniel looked to each other, expression looking a little tight though clear debate before Vanessa relented and turned back to her.

“<It’s… a big deal to the Sarentu. Your Family name, Cortez is familiar.>”

“<Okay? Go on?>”

“<They think you’re the daughter of Dr Cortez, a late Resistance member. They’re debating if they should talk with you or not.” Vanessa said.

Hope’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tense at… the unexpected turn of conversation. Dr Cortez? A dead doc. Honestly, as much as she wanted to scoff and dismiss it, she knew Ma had told her stories of her birth parents growing up.

Her mother, Alma Cortez. An avatar driver who worked in a secret project who had loved her very much, the woman who had lost a daughter before her own birth and had been desperate to keep her alive and healthy. She had only a one photo of her drawn out. The rest was on a dead, broken sky-person tablet she kept wrapped up for sentimental reasons.

Her father, Michael, who her adoptive mother never really learned his last name of, was a medical doctor who cared for the sick and injured, and had passed out in the delivery room after her birth and got a concussion. Her adoptive mother spoke of him in great fondness. He loved her too, and shielded her travel carrier with his own body when they had crashed, intercepting debris that killed him, sparing her.

She knew her father was long gone. He was greatly honoured for his actions. Her birth mother… had always been more abstract. Not killed as Birth mother had been delayed in her trip by a day to finish up a few last things. Father had taken little her earlier to get set up at the other sky person village. By the crash, she had considered her birth mother would think them dead. A closed book. Neither would ever be in each other’s life because… why would they think they could.

Her heart sank a little. Late Dr Cortez. Dead Alma Cortez.

So, by fact alone, with her Birth mother was dead too; she was a biological orphan. As much as that thought hurt, she felt relief to have her brother and sister here. Her family. The only family she had known. Her past with the sky people was truly dead now. No more spirits in the shadows.

“<Dr Alma Cortez was my mother, but my mother of now is Anela Harding. I will not discuss my late parents with the Sarentu nor will I care to discuss anything personal with them.>” Hope said, pouring her mug into Hapuk’s who did not mind the extra and headed straight into her tent to… privately process this news.

“<Let me join you, sister.>” Javier called, his gone gentle as he slipped in after her.

-

The run was long, pausing very every couple of hours to feed to keep their energy and blood reserves high, the three Ikran-formed vampires cut the distance through the skies, faster than that of a normal Ikran. No one would catch up to see them truly but they weren’t flying to blend in. With wings, they were faster despite the sun; allowing them to not have to run and dodge the trees.

Av’ah flew back, allowing Tazak to lead and Percy beside her. Tazak’s Ikran form was a deep blue, flecks of orange and reds with a lower jaw and underbelly of teal. Percy was mostly greens as his main colouring, with purple flecks and pink accents. Like her own, their main eyes were black and their secondary eye was red.

Despite being in these forms, it allowed her the first time to properly… delve into the more nuanced side of vampirism she hadn’t dappled into too much. Telepathy. It was still weird, but the only means of communication between each other in this form. They weren’t constantly linked up, but it was much like speaking, only she had to manually tune in every time they senses someone wanted to talk. Often though she had the option to refuse, the intent was senses before; to talk, not to invade.

‘How far are we?’ Av’ah inquired.

There was a long pause, allowing Tazak to assess. ‘There’s ash in the air.’ He noted with a trilling sense of concern.

It took a second before Av’ah smelt it, opening her mouth a little to taste it better before it went down there, not only ash but there was a lingering scent of chemicals. Methane?

‘Windtraders pass through this pass, don’t they’ Percy pointed out.

All their wings picked up, trying to get there faster, where within moments they caught sight of flames in the forest that rose up. A downed Gondola.

As three, they dove down into the canopy, shifting into their blue forms and took off running. There was still activity going on, this crash was having just happened recent. Perhaps minutes ago but their forms were faster, gliding through the forest before they reached the site.

The traders were in the midst of being attacked, many being beaten and stabbed, one Mangkwan warrior grabbing what looked like a small child and made to go off on the back of his Ikran…

Av’ah hissed, her nails sharpening into claws before she dove into the first man, raising his knife to plunge into the chest of a younger trader man before she clawed out his throat, in a single swipe, the force alone sending the body back before it was dead.

Percy and Tazak mercilessly cut through the warriors who, only after a few seconds realised something was wrong before they were dead. There was one women left standing. A grand woman with a red and black like quill-headdress that spoke of someone of importance… but Av’ah only saw her as prey. Someone who had earned what was coming as she saw the darkness in the woman’s face as she took in the sight of her raider’s party were dead within a minute. The woman looked genuinely shocked but there was a bubbling rise of rage and fear in her face.

“<I will take her.>” Av’ah said, stepping fast without much decision; the only one left alive. One she could use for her reason for being here. Her Na’vi form.

The lead woman raised her knife to swing and attempt to maim her in her approach. As they were in the shadows, the knife didn’t even pierce her skin as grabbed her by the throat. “<What?!>”

Av’ah said nothing to the lead raider, because what was there to say? Why gloat? But this place was not the place to strip her bones. She could smell the tempting blood and see the injured… but thankfully Tazak and Percy were already on it; tending to them. Getting them moved from the wreckage. A few able bodied were there, shocked as anyone to their arrival and slaughter of the Mangkwan but they were prioritising for now. Their people. Their injured and their dead.

It took only a few seconds to run a mile north of their position, the woman gasping in surprise at the burst of coldness against her ash covered skin before they stopped in a small clearing beside a shallow pond and without a second thought, dunked the Mangkwan woman into the waters and held her under, mostly to wash away the worst of the ash from her skin because the un-absorbable shit was gonna taste more awful than usual once she threw it up. The piercings, now that she noticed them, would drop like the bones as would her clothes. They weren’t ‘part of her’.

Speaking of which… she’d need to take off her clothes first to change back into them in her new form. Otherwise she’d returning nude and… she doubted any of the survivors would appreciate that.

Av’ah yanked the woman up out of the water and tossed her aside, leaving her spluttering and catching her breath as soon as she could breath. Casually, Av’ah removed her pouches, which held some paints she had earned, purposely to reapply out here and a folded up bag for the bones afterwards. There was little else she had needed to bring. As the Mangkwan woman gathered her bearings, Av’ah just removed her waistcloth and bone chest cover. Good enough.

“<Who are you?>” The woman snarled, quickly scrambling up to her feet. Her hands tring to find her blades but… they were gone. The circular red blades had been dropped in the dash and she could see the woman’s other blade was in the pond. The woman’s heart sped up, realising now she was alone with no one to pull her out or save her.

“<My name is Av’ah.>” Av’ah at least allowed, “<Do not bother asking more questions. I am not here to listen or to talk. Your raiders are dead and you will be nothing but bones in in my hands in the next few moments.>” She flittered forwards, grasping the woman’s head in both her hands, grabbing the woman’s kuru at the base to keep her from rolling or trying to step awau.

“<I am Varang of the Mangkwan, I will not—>”

The sentence didn’t vanish as Av’ah swiftly yanked the woman’s jaw; not breaking the bone as she was tempted to do but simply to pop the joint to dislocate it. The woman screeched, jaw slacking immediately in response but Av’ah sound that easy to ignore as she grasped her skull and closed her eyes.

“<Eywa, hear my prayer.>” Av’ah whispered to start her prayer. “<Take this spirit into your hands whilst the body stays to join among my people to restore the balance of life and to gift the clans with a new bounty of life…>” She did not give her the prayer meant for hunting. No, this was no animal or great creature that sat in the chain of life, but someone who would burn the world if she could. The blackness in her heart too deep and dark that… there was no way back for her. Her death was the end of this era and the start of another. Eywa would see to what comes of her once released from this body.

Av’ah inhaled as a Dreamwalker before she followed her instincts to the itching hunger across her skin….

Within moments, the woman’s bones dropped into the grass, as did the jewellery, the headdress and clothing…. Av’ah reforming quickly and lurched onto her knees before it was complete... a familiar pressing fullness in her belly that pushed up quickly, vomiting up the black sludge into the grass beside the pearly white bones and gasped to clear her airways of the familiar vile state, wrenching up again before her stomach was clear.

 Av’ah groaned a little, though blinked down at herself, her lips pulling up into a grin as she noticed her hands. Three fingers and a thumb. The changes… they looked so subtle and felt like it too, but… different as well. Her stripes were different, as were her tanhì. Her teeth felt different too… but she couldn’t quite place it. Her fingers came to her face, feeling her brow; hairless. Her eyes felt bigger too.

Carefully, she rose up, her tail swished and reacted as her Dreamwalker form did. No changes there, though her feet, the gap in her toes where she had lost one in this form was… weird. it took a few steps to adjust and shift her weight to walk more fluidly. Good.

Av’ah hurried to her clothes first, tugging them on before pulling out the bag she had, grabbing Varangs bones and began to collect them up before she heard a flurry of steps.

Percy appeared, his expression looking relieved. “<It is done?>”

“<Yes.>” Av’ah said. “<How is the camp?>”

“<There were about thirty four people on this gondola in total. Seven killed in the crash, nine killed by the Raiders before we could save them. The four of them are unhurt and are assisting, the other ten are injured but alive.>” Percy said, “<There are four missing in total, a pregnant woman with her daughter and two young children. The traders believe that they were taken by the Mangkwan clan as soon as possible.>”

Av’ah frowned, setting her pouch at her waist and spared a look. “<What’s the plan now?>”

“<Tazak wants to rescue the stolen four and bring them back. I plan to join him to see if we can rescue any more of the Mangkwan slaves and kidnapped children.>” Percy said, his eyes intent with a fizzling anger and… sadness.

“<Want me to help?>”

“<No. You’re to stay with the traders to aid them. Your body needs to settle with this new form.>” Percy’s massive hand came and settled above her still heart. “<Right now, they need help. They have not seen our true nature but nor will they need to. We have saved them without turning into fog or our mind abilities. Keep the secret.>”

Av’ah’s jaw tightened but she nodded slowly. “<Be back soon.>” She had faith in him, of course. But how would this end for the Mangkwan? Av’ah checked herself for a moment; she’d paint herself up later. Now, she had to help. The blood was going to be an issue but… she was fine.

She had to be.

Av’ah made her way back towards the crash site. The bag of bones in her hands as she went but her attention turned up as she heard a louder, closer heartbeat as she neared the edge of the site where there were many people moving, the scent of blood in the air, but her attention didn’t yet follow that.

The Windtraders able bodied were moving supplies from the wreckage to save it. Some tossing water to douse the fires and others were wrapping bodies up. The Medical goods were certainly being used now as people were helping each other, putting paste across burns, stabling debris and Tazak was looking down at one woman placed on a scrap piece of the gondola, who looked like she was of the waters, though greener, teal skin with a shorter paddled tail. She was face down, so could not see her face though did notice a few tattoos on her body. Perhaps of a swamp? She was looking to be the worst for wear, a large arrow sticking out of her spine in the middle of her back. There was a… energy about Tazak as he examined the woman.

‘You want to turn her?’ She asked silently.

Tazak twitched a little. ‘Her injuries are survivable for now but she will need treatment. If the arrow is tainted, it may kill her sooner, than later’

Av’ah pursed her lips. ‘Stabilise her first, ask later.’ She was in no place to decide and just transforming her in the aftermath didn’t seem smart; there was too much blood out here. She had no means to look after a newly turned if she had to keep the others alive until they returned.

A low groan made her pause, her head tilting up before she found herself looking up to see a man tangled up and suspended in the vines, his skin similar to that of the woman, his tail hung down was also paddled and his face tattooed with a dark lower-lip tattoo with a healing scar cut through the lines down his chin. His eyes were lidding, disorientated and had an arrow through his right leg.

Oh dear.

Av’ah moved, gently getting the man down and though he fought, probably assuming she was a raider, it was weak before he noticed the aid of a younger trader at his other side as they set him down to start tending to his wounds.

Behind her, Tazak and Percy slipped away.