#noritu

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER ONE: Lewng

AFTER THE TARSYU, NOR’S THOUGHTS caged him within his mind once more. Hatred for the humans. Contempt for their metals in the hands of his clan. How conversation amongst the Sarentu was warm and easy without him, then stilted and unsure within his presence. He couldn’t stand it—any of it. So shortly after, he left.

The na'rìng welcomed him with open arms, full of dark patches, empty caves, and dramatic cliffs. Sometimes, Nor felt as if he could hear the call of the ancestors on the wind. They guided him, encouraged him, urged him deeper into the wilds. He drifted from the meitayo to the txampay, the txayo to The Spires. Always undetected.

Always alone.

Alone, save for Reyfya. His closest companion, his only confidant. An ikran.

Nor had completed Iknimaya on his own. By some cruel twist of fate, he’d decided to make the climb before the Mangkwan infiltrated the West, setting much of the na'rìng ablaze and decimating the rookery. At least he had spared Reyfya of their flames—or worse, a bond with one amongst their numbers.

For a long while, Nor had wandered within the Kìnglor, never straying too far from his kin, always keeping an eye out. When he saw the trails of ash in the sky, he knew he’d be needed. That something terrible would happen.

Truly, he had been glad to be within the company of So'lek and Ri'nela once more, and he was astounded to meet Rasi, the leiokoakte who had hidden herself away ever since that last Lìmang, convinced that she was all that remained of the once-great Sarentu. But none of them had listened. They toted around the metals from the Sky, laughing in the face of Eywa, shaming their own 'olo. Their soaia. How could they make peace with such casual affronts, such a mockery of the Na'vi way?

Still, the memories made Nor’s blood boil. He may have been raised to follow the Sky People’s ways, but now that he was free? He refused to stain his hands with their contraptions. To carry a gun was to claw out one’s own heart, stepping away from all which was right and true. He failed to understand how the others could not see that. So'lek and Ri'nela, Teylan with his ridiculous gadgets and his love for their ways, even Tamtey.

But now, the Sarentu were safe again. They had their protector in So'lek, as dependable as he was stuck in his ways. No one needed Nor. And none would want him after they learned what he had done. He could just hear them discussing it, the contempt in So'lek’s voice, the disgust marring Ri'nela’s expression.

A rustle pulled Nor from his thoughts. Heart hammering, he yanked his bow from over his shoulder, silently notching an arrow and falling into a crouch. Peering between the foliage, Nor drew his bow with a deep exhale. As the footfalls became louder, drawing closer, he very nearly let loose. But at the sway of bright silks, his arm stiffened. Nor leapt from the bush, causing the Aranahe to call out in surprise. He drew his knife, holding it aloft. Nor smirked.

“I practically killed you,” the Sarentu muttered, slipping the arrow back within his quiver and pulling his bow over his shoulder. “Long way for you to wander, Aranahe.”

The other male scowled. “I could say the same for you.” He sheathed his knife with a soft hiss, jaw tight.

Nor shrugged. “My people have always been wanderers. Yours…”

“How would you explain it to the others, had you killed one of their 'eylan?” the Aranahe groused, resuming his path through the brush. Nor followed, glad that the other male could not see his expression; the guilt which pulled at his brow. He had killed someone who was once close to the Sarentu. And he had failed to stick around long enough to explain himself.

“I do not even know your name,” Nor said rather flippantly, desperate to wrench his thoughts from Alma. How her stolen face had contorted when he plunged his knife into her belly. How her human features had softened into acceptance after banging her fists over the jammed door. Nor shook his head to dislodge the images.

“Itu,” the Aranahe answered. For a moment, Nor forgot what he had even asked the male, so wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Now it all came flooding back to him. “Ah, srane,” he breathed. “The taronyu. Tamtey’s intended.”

Itu momentarily stopped short, shoulders stiffening. But then he surged ahead once more, seemingly with renewed purpose. “Once, maybe,” he mumbled, fiddling with the songcord at his hip. His thumb brushed over a blue bead that suspiciously resembled one knotted in Tamtey’s own cord. Nor almost snickered.

But then the thought of the other Sarentu made his heart twist. Teylan’s offered hand at the tarsyu. So'lek’s unwavering guidance and friendship, despite his obvious aggravation. Nor’s own heated words with Ri'nela, the look on her face as venom dripped from his tongue. His introduction to Rasi, which still brought him great shame. And his worry for Tamtey—the only one who had ever truly listened to him. Tried to understand him.

“Is she well, do you know?” Nor asked, his voice suddenly much softer, barely audible over the crunch of leaves underfoot.

“Well enough, from what I hear,” Itu replied. Though his tone had lost its edge, too. “She has been moving between clans, rarely resting.”

A frown tugged at Nor’s lips. “Has she even healed?”

Itu’s shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I would not know.”

“Taronyu,” Nor called, coming to a halt. Itu stopped before him, just barely glancing back over his shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Scuffing his foot within the mulch, Itu murmured. “Somewhere. Anywhere else.”

Nor chuckled. “Hiding, are you?”

“And what is it you are doing?” Itu shot back.

“Hiding,” Nor admitted with a wistful smile.

Itu’s mouth opened, no doubt sporting another retort on his tongue. But then it was as if he thought better of it. He turned, facing Nor, his brow creased. “Care for company?”

✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦ ✦.──꧁.°℘⎝⋮ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⋮⎠༄꧂── .✦

CHAPTER TWO: Prrkxentrrkrr

THE DAYS PASSED EASILY BETWEEN the two, filled with quiet hunts and wordless tasks, creeping through the na'rìng, keeping an eye out for any activity from the Sky People. To Nor's relief, the Kìnglor had finally fallen silent, undisturbed. To his chagrin, he kept finding Itu’s gaze on him. But then the Aranahe would turn away, whistling or busying his hands with something as if he had not just been shamelessly staring.

These occurrences left Nor, to his own great surprise, quite bothered. He was accustomed to growing annoyed with others, biting back at anything they might say to him, baring his teeth, rolling his eyes. But Itu’s gaze did not stir up annoyance in Nor. No, rather the opposite. Each time the taronyu’s yellow eyes slipped down Nor’s frame, the Sarentu’s cheeks warmed.

His tewng tightened.

Within the last two painfully silent weeks he had spent beside the male, Nor had become quite adept at cooling the heat which frequently coursed through his veins. An impromptu dip in the river. A distracting fly with Reyfya. Testing his agility by leaping between the boughs of ancient trees. Tuning into the idle chatter between the other Sarentu over the radio.

But one night, it all became too much.

“Have you ever been with another?” Itu suddenly asked. A fire crackled between them, cooking the strips of yerik meat secured from the day’s hunt. Itu had been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon—he often prattled on without expecting a response. In all honesty, Nor was starting to feel a bit rude for how seldom he gave into Itu’s antics. After all, the male’s company was preferable to complete isolation.

But Nor felt as if he were being tricked—there was no fair way to answer such a question without jeopardizing his own pride in front of this taronyu. Rather than submit himself to such judgment, he practically spat, “Have you?”

With a laugh that was grating to Nor’s ears, Itu sighed, “Oh, plenty.”

Despite himself, Nor could feel his cheeks warm. He hoped that the firelight was dim enough not to expose him. “Is not mating meant to be a sacred act before Eywa?”

Itu merely shrugged. “I suppose that depends on your appetite.”

Grinding his teeth, Nor hissed, “Even you, one of the people, laugh in Eywa’s face.”

“'Eylan, you are far too devout for your own good,” Itu chuckled.

Though Nor had turned from the other man, effectively ending the conversation, he was unable to stop the barrage of images which swirled through his mind at the idea of Itu and the plenty of Na'vi he had bedded. Without bothering to excuse himself, Nor scampered off into the na'rìng, tearing blindly through the brush until all he could hear was his own thundering heart.

Slumping against a rough tree trunk, Nor slid to the ground, chest heaving. Before he could stop himself, he had cast aside his too-tight tewng, freeing his aching, hard length.

Nor’s fingers skittered down the sensitive flesh as his head fell back against the rough bark. Visions of Itu flashed behind his eyes in quick succession. The taronyu bent over a female, driving into her. The mouth of another male wrapped around Itu’s pulsing cock. Itu's face as he came undone, rope after rope of his release spewing from him.

As Nor chased his own pleasure, he allowed his thoughts to drift farther still. His thumb suddenly became Itu’s lips, swirling over the tip. The scrape of his palm a poor substitute for Itu’s flat tongue, dragging across the length of him. Nor fisted himself, hips bucking into the friction of his grip, pathetic little mewls falling from his lips. As he felt himself swell he picked up the pace, breath stuttering with the fire coursing through his veins, cock twitching as he spent himself over his hand.

He pictured Itu cleaning up his mess, tongue slipping along his soiled flesh, their gazes locked. A furious blush crept over Nor’s cheeks and down his chest at the lewd image. After he was freed from his high, he drowned beneath a wave of shame.