#solek fluff

So'lek was exhausted. The kind that lives in the shoulders, in the hands, in the particular ache behind the eyes that comes from hours of stillness and focus and then the long walk home carrying more than just the weight of the hunt. He set out in the early morning hours and he had been successful, bringing back enough meat to fill you all for a day or two at least. But he had refused to return to you empty handed in the other sense. Not today. Not any day if he could help it.

Tracking the group of yerik had been no easy feat, the trail doubling back twice before he closed the distance. He finished the hunt by noon and spent the next few hours searching and climbing for the most exquisite fortune fruits he could find. High up, where the best ones grew; where the light hit them just right and the weight of them in the hand told you everything you needed to know. You had never once asked him to do this. That had never been the point.

Your son inherited your taste for them, which meant So'lek climbed a little higher and looked a little longer than strictly necessary. He did not mind. He would not have had it any other way.

He heard the home before he reached it.

Not the warm quiet he had carried in his mind all afternoon through the long walk back, but voices.

His son's, edged with something that prickled at the back of So'lek's neck before he had fully registered why. And yours, carefully even, in the way you only became when you were holding something steady by will alone. He knew that voice. He knew every version of your voice, the way a hunter learns the forest - not by studying it but by moving through it so many times that the knowing becomes something closer to instinct.

He slowed without thinking.

The words reached him before he reached the threshold, and he went still in the way the forest goes still. Completely, and all at once.

You just want me to be like you. Because you can't teach me anything a real hunter would know.

A beat of silence. Then, quieter, and somehow worse for it:

Father would never waste my time like this.

So'lek stood at the threshold, fortune fruits still cradled against his chest. He did not move. The exhaustion in his shoulders was still there but something had moved through him that made it irrelevant. Something very calm and very certain, the way he became before a hunt when everything unnecessary fell away and only the essential remained.

He stepped inside.

You had spent your day attempting to corral your pre-teen son into sitting still long enough to learn. A simple thing, you had told him. Necessary, even. You had laid out the dried reeds across the woven mat, demonstrating the pattern with patient hands the way your own mother had once shown you. Over, under, pull through. The beginnings of a carrying strap, sturdy enough to hold provisions, light enough to wear across the chest on a long trek.

Your son had watched for approximately three minutes before the complaints began.

“I don’t need to know this.” He dropped the reeds into his lap, crossing his arms in a way that reminded you so painfully of his father that you almost laughed. Almost.

“You do,” you said simply, nodding toward the reeds. “Pick them back up.”

“This is weaving.” He said the word like it tasted sour. “This is what you do. I’m going to be a hunter. Like Father.”

You kept your hands moving, steady, unbothered. Or at least performing unbothered very convincingly. “Your father knows how to weave.”

That gave him a moment’s pause. But only a moment.

“He doesn’t do it though.”

“Because he doesn’t have to right now.” You glanced up at him. “There will come a time when you are far from home, when something tears, when you have nothing and you need to carry more than your hands can hold. What will you do then? Hope someone nearby knows what their mother taught them?”

He was quiet for a beat and you thought, foolishly, that you were getting through to him.

“You could just teach me something useful.” His voice had an edge now, something testing and cruel in the way that only children who are just discovering their own sharpness can be. “But I guess you don’t really know anything a real hunter would need.”

The words landed harder than he probably intended. Or perhaps he did intend them. He was at that age where he was learning exactly how sharp he could make himself, pressing on things just to watch them give. You set your reeds down slowly. Looked at him.

“You will pick those back up,” you said quietly. “And you will learn this. That is not a request.”

But he wasn’t finished. His eyes cut back to yours and his chin lifted. So’lek’s chin, So’lek’s stubbornness, wearing a smaller face, and he said what he had clearly been building toward the entire afternoon.

“You just want me to be like you. Because you can’t teach me anything a real hunter would know.” A beat. Then, quieter, “Father would never waste my time like this.”

The entrance to your home was open to the warm afternoon air. Neither of you heard the footsteps slow. Neither of you heard the particular silence of a large, exhausted hunter going very still just outside. A silence that was somehow louder than any sound. So’lek stood at the threshold, fortune fruits still cradled against his chest, and he did not move. He had caught the last of it. Every word.

You were still looking at your son, composing yourself with the careful, quiet dignity of someone who refused to let a child, her child, see how well he’d aimed. Your son was still looking at you with that lifted chin, waiting to see what the damage would be, not yet aware of the shadow that had fallen long across the floor behind him.

So’lek stepped inside.

He set the fruits down with a slowness that was deliberate. His eyes were on his son, and his voice, when it came, was low and even; which was so much worse than anger would have been.

“My mind must be playing tricks on me.” He moved further into the room, the boy turned, and went very still. “Because I know that wasn’t my mate you were speaking to in such a way.”

Your son opened his mouth. Some reflex toward explanation, or defense, or perhaps just the instinct to fill the silence with something before it could grow any heavier.

“I did not ask you to speak yet.” So’lek said it without heat. Simply a fact. The boy closed his mouth.

So’lek crossed the space unhurried, lowering himself to sit. Not looming over his son, but leveling with him, which was somehow more serious. He rested his arms across his knees and looked at the boy for a long moment with that steady, patient gaze that had never once needed to be loud to be heard.

“You said your mother cannot teach you anything a real hunter would know.” It wasn’t a question. He was recounting. Making the boy hear it again in his father’s voice. “You believe that.”

His son swallowed. Already the chin had come down. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” So’lek tilted his head slightly. “I want to know if you believe it.”

Silence.

“Because I will tell you what I know.” He settled, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world for this lesson; this one, not the weaving. “I have tracked game across the Kinglor Forest in the dark. I have crossed the High Ground in the deep wet season when the trails wash out and there is nothing to carry your provisions in because your pack tore three days back.” A pause, letting that sit. “Do you know what I did?”

The boy said nothing.

“I wove one.” So’lek held his son’s gaze. “From what I could find. Poorly, because I had not practiced enough, and it came apart twice before I made it work. I was very hungry by the time I reached home.” His expression didn’t change. “Your mother’s hands would not have come apart twice.”

You were very still across the room. You were not sure you were breathing.

“She knows the reeds that hold in wet weather and the ones that don’t.” So’lek continued, quiet and even. “She knows which knot holds weight and which looks strong but fails when it matters. She knows medicines that have kept me alive. She knows how to read the forest in ways that have nothing to do with hunting and everything to do with surviving.” He paused. “You called that a waste of your time.”

His son looked at the floor.

“Look at me.” Not unkind. Absolute.

The boy looked up.

“Your mother is not here to give you half of what she knows. She is not your lesser because her knowledge looks different than mine. It is not women’s work and men’s work.” Something shifted in his expression - not harder, but deeper. “It is our work. All of it. And a hunter who cannot see the value in what he does not yet know will not be a hunter for very long.”

He let that settle. Then, quieter still, the part that was no longer correction but something more like grief on your behalf:

“You told her that I would never waste your time.” So’lek’s eyes moved to you for just a moment. Something passed across his face that was too steady to be anger and too fierce to be anything else. Then back to his son. “I have searched for your mother’s favorite fruit for three hours today. I climbed for them. Because she deserved to have something she loves waiting for her at the end of her day.” A beat. “She spent her day trying to give you something that will keep you alive someday. And you told her that was worthless.”

He let the boy sit in that. Let him feel the full shape of what he’d done.

“You will apologize to her,” So’lek said finally. “Not because I am telling you to. But because you are going to look at her and you are going to understand what you said, and you are going to mean it.”

He rose then, and crossed to you, and pressed his forehead briefly to yours. A quiet thing, not meant for any audience. An acknowledgment that needed no words.

Then he reached back for the fortune fruits, and held them out to you. Still warm from the climb. The best ones he could find.

“I believe you have a lesson to finish,” he said softly. And there was something almost gentle in it. I see what you were doing. I see that you did not stop. I see you.

Your son sat with the weight of his father’s words for a long moment. You could see it working through him, the way children do when they are not yet too proud to feel things, when the lesson actually lands somewhere real. His hands were in his lap. The reeds were still scattered across the mat between you.

When he finally looked up at you, the chin was entirely gone. What was left was just his face. Young, and a little ashamed, and very much his father’s son in the way his brow pulled together when something sat uneasy in him.

He stood up and closed the space between you, settling onto the mat beside you the way he used to when he was smaller and the world felt too big. He was quiet for a moment more, like he was arranging the words carefully, the way So’lek had asked him to. Not just saying them. Meaning them.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” His voice came out smaller than he intended, you could tell. “I didn’t—” He stopped. Started again, more honestly. “I did mean to be cruel. I don’t know why.” His eyes stayed on yours, because his father had told him to, and because somewhere underneath the sharp new edges he was still your boy. “That wasn’t right. You were trying to help me and I said things that weren’t true and weren’t kind.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Let him sit in the honesty of it just long enough for it to matter. Then you reached out and pressed your palm to the side of his face, the way you had when he was very small, and he leaned into it just slightly, just enough to tell you everything.

“I know,” you said quietly. “And I forgive you.”

He exhaled.

“Now.” You pulled your hand back and nodded toward the scattered reeds with the particular calm of a woman who had been waiting all afternoon to finish what she started. “Pick those up. We are going to do this until you can do it without thinking.”

A breath of something that almost became a groan. But he caught it. Perhaps feeling his father’s eyes still on the back of his neck, and picked up the reeds.

So’lek settled nearby. Not hovering, not intervening. Simply present, the way he was, solid and quiet as an old-growth tree.

He worked at something of his own, checking the fastenings on his gear, methodical and unhurried, but every so often his eyes moved to you. Watching the way your hands moved through the pattern. The patience in them.

Over, under, pull through.

This time your son watched. Really watched.

He was clumsy with it at first, the reeds slipping, the tension uneven, and you corrected him without frustration; like this, see how it seats, feel where it wants to go, and slowly, slowly, the shape of it began to emerge in his hands. Rough and imperfect, but entirely his own.

By the time the light outside had shifted to the deep amber of early evening, he had made something that roughly resembled what you’d shown him. He held it up, turning it over with a critical eye that was entirely his father’s.

“It’s uneven,” he said.

“Yes,” you agreed. “Make another one.”

He almost smiled. Ducking his head, he began to make another one.

When your son finally went to bed. Tired in the way that comes from a long day of feeling things and then working through them, the home settled into quiet.

So’lek found you the way he always did at the end of the day. Gravitationally, without ceremony, like water finding its level. He folded himself down behind you where you sat, his long frame curved around yours, and you felt the full exhale of him; the deep bone-tired he had carried in from the forest finally allowed to set itself down.

His chin came to rest on the top of your shoulder, in the crook of your neck. His arms found you without looking, without thinking.

For a while neither of you spoke. The sounds of the forest breathed around the home. Somewhere distant something called out and was answered. The last of the evening light moved slow and gold across the floor.

“He is a good boy,” So’lek said finally. Low, quiet. For no one but you. “He will be a good man.”

“I know,” you said. And you did. That had never been the question.

His arms tightened slightly, the way they did when words weren’t quite enough for what he meant. You felt him press his mouth briefly to the top of your head. Soft, unhurried.

“You did not yield to him,” he murmured. “Not once. You sat with it and you stayed.” A pause. “I saw that.”

You closed your eyes. Something in you that had been held taut all afternoon finally came loose.

“I just didn’t want him to see he’d gotten to me,” you admitted.

A low sound from him, not quite a laugh but something warmer. “He didn’t,” he said. “He saw only his mother. Patient. Certain.” His voice dropped lower still, something in it that belonged entirely to the dark and the quiet and to you. “As she always is.”

You turned into him then, tucking yourself against his chest the way you had so many times it had become its own kind of language. His heartbeat was slow and steady under your ear. His hand moved up your back, unhurried, the way it did when he was simply reminding himself you were there.

“The fruits were perfect,” you said softly, into the warmth of him.

You felt him smile. You couldn’t see it but you knew its shape by now. That particular quiet thing he kept mostly for you. “I climbed very far for them.”

“I know.” You kissed his chest, right over his heart.

“I would climb further.”

You didn’t answer that. You didn’t need to.

Outside, Pandora breathed on in the dark, vast and alive, indifferent to small tender things. But here, in the quiet of the home So’lek had built, filled and given thanks for every single day, here the small tender things were everything. And he held you until you slept.

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“It’s always been you, Ma So’lek.”

“You’re all I want, can’t you see?”

“So’lek… So’lek…”

The man awoke with a start, pupils consuming his irises as he tried to shake the scenes from his mind—the lingering visage of your arms, tangled together, breath in sync as the day passed without notice, consuming him.

It was everything he’d ever allow himself to want. A fantasy he’d taken for himself, stripping the danger from the world outside and giving you the life he’d promised to you (in total secrecy.) The dreams were coming more often now, he made a mental note of that. There was no explanation for the sudden infatuation his dreams had taken with you, the phantom smell of your scent wafting through his nostrils as he closed his eyes, the blood rushing to his head.

It was unbearable. The ache in his chest, the way his fingers itched to reach out for you.

So’lek pulled himself off the ground, the dizzying reality sobering his thoughts— the echoing sound of heavy machinery somewhere close. Too close.

It wouldn’t be long until they began drilling, their closest excursion to Hometree yet. The pollution levels were already bordering on instability; it couldn’t be allowed to reach the village. He had to move. An unfortunate twist in his morning plans, none of which benefited him too greatly, nonetheless- he was irritated.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

His steps fell silently, breath steady as he crept closer and closer to the main RDA drill unit. The low-hanging smog gave him the advantage, with visibility near zero, giving him the opportunity to make his way unseen.

He kept the arrow notched passively in his bow, the heat of the generator now pulsing— a sickly radiation turning the flora in its direction a charred black.

So’lek pulled the arrow taut, zeroing in on the cluster of circuit breakers that sat behind hard plastic lockboxes. He took a clarifying breath, releasing the arrow with deadly aim— the breakers coming alive with harsh sparks and a series of small explosions.

An alarm began to blare overhead, his body instinctively turning away from the noise— feet digging into the charred earth as he scrambled away from the inferno like heat that began seeping towards him with every explosion.

Before he could react, a bone-rattling force shook the ground beneath his feet- sending him tumbling backwards as another ‘BANG’ sounded behind him. The source was unknown, only categorized by the white-hot pain that settled over the back of his skull before it all settled into black.

…

“Ma So’lek?”

So’lek sat upright, heart racing in his chest, eyes tearing around the room wildly until they settled on you.

He can feel his heartbeat noticeably calm, able to take a deep breath in— his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What?” He speaks before he can process his words, shaking his head slightly as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s going on?”

His eyes linger on you for longer than he’d care to admit, the perfect curve of your lips curling into a smile as you say something he doesn’t hear.

“Ma So’lek?”

So’lek straightens his spine, blinking the clouds from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just.. confused.” He breaths, his face flushing as you come closer— your hands cradling his jaw.

You peer down at him curiously, the pads of your thumbs caressing the defined lines of his cheekbones. “Do not think, only feel.”

His eyes softened in the hazy light pouring in from the grove’s entrance, his hands subconsciously moving to the plush curve of your hips— fingers skimming the soft skin exposed there. He let his eyes flutter closed, the wisp-like touches on his lips making him shudder. “Yawntu.. Ma yawntu..” He inhaled deeply, the warmth of your scent invading his body. “Tell me again.”

“It’s always been you, Ma So’lek.”

“clear on this side—,”

“It’s always…”

“Motherboard is fried!”

“Ma So’lek!”

The Na’vi was thrown back into consciousness, a sudden blooming pain behind his eyes making his vision blur slightly. He hissed in discomfort, pulling himself haphazardly behind a fallen tree to find his footing.

Which way had he come from? Where in Pandora was he?

He began to move slowly, the chatter of human radios droning around him. He couldn’t quite remember the direction of HQ nor of his own quarters, but he picked up his pace nonetheless. Anywhere would be better than here.

If there was one way So’lek refused to die, it would be by the hand of a human. Much less than the RDA. He pushed forward blindly into the forest, a hand moving to his head— his palm returning sticky with a coating of fresh blood. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been bleeding, hell, he wasn’t sure of what frontier he was on.

His brain struggled to regulate, following a path he could only barely see, a sudden burst of recognition making him reach instinctively for his comms. The receiver band around his throat crackled to life as he pressed two fingers to the transmitter.

“Sarentu?” He breathed, before quickly clearing his throat. “P-priya? Can anyone hear me?”

His voice came out more pathetic than he had anticipated, a discontented groan slipping from his lips as he braced himself against a tree. The thick liquid had begun seeping into the neckline of his vest, pooling uncomfortably as he waited for a response.

The receiver screeched to life, a harsh static pouring into the man’s ears, causing him to wince.

“So’lek? What’s going on, did you hear that explosion too? The whole base shook! Do you think it was the RDA? I mean of course—” Priya’s overly optimistic voice cut through the static, piercing further into So’lek’s dwindling patience, causing him to snap.

“Priya! Stop. Talking.” He huffed, his manners all but vanished beneath the strain of his injury. He made a mental note to apologize later, for now, he couldn’t be bothered. “I’m injured. I need assistance.”

The woman on the other side gasped, her tone twisting into something more panicked. “Where are you? Was that explosion you?! I can send—,”

Another crackle of the receiver and a new voice cut in. “So’lek?”

Blood rushed to his face, causing his head to throb as he savored the way your voice rang through his ears and settled into the forefront of his brain. “Sarentu.” He hummed in response, the acidity in his earlier tone simmering into something sweeter, his ears perking in anticipation.

He couldn’t help the way his voice softened, or the way his body went rigid— a newfound steadiness allowing him to continue his trek towards (what he hoped was) home tree.

“You’re hurt. Where are you?” Your voice shook, a detail he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget, the sound of your ikran chirping in the background making his lips pull into a halfhearted smile. You were coming.

So’lek felt his heart thud uncontrollably in his chest, sending waves of blinding pain— or, was that euphoria? — over his body. He didn’t think he’d be able to tell the difference either way, his throat releasing a strangled gasp. “I.. I’m not sure. Do you see the smoke?”

Before you could respond, he felt a new weight settle over his brow. A darkening around his vision sent him stumbling back onto the damp soil, the world spinning out of focus as his eyes fell closed.

As he faded out of consciousness, there was no fear in his heart.

You were coming.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sharp, sterile smell of the medbay hit him first. The smell forced its way further into his lungs as he took a jagged inhale, his senses still dull as he shifted beneath the stiff cotton draping.

His eyes fluttered open, the unnatural fluorescent light stabbing into the nerve behind his eyes— making him groan as he tried to push himself onto his elbow. “Are these necessary?” He grunted, hand moving up to block the light.

“Oh Eywa,”

So’lek’s ears perked again, this time the voice was crystal clear- undisturbed by the static of the comms. His eyes shot open, his hand moving down to his side as he scanned the room for you.

You stood near his right-hand side, twisting the knob for the overhead lights— cursing in strings of perfect, melodic harmonies as he peered up at you. He’d never noticed how wonderfully your voice reverberated through his senses before, his skin prickling at the weight of your gaze.

“—So’lek?”

He shook his head slightly, blinking hard. “I’m sorry, I’m just..” He couldn’t find the words, his eyes lingering on your hands as you clicked the switches back into place. Your slender fingers fit between his so nicely, he flexed his hand out of instinct— the space between his fingers feeling abnormally empty.

“Confused?” You asked gently, a hand coming to rest on the railing of the bed. “I can imagine, skxawng.” The fire behind the words nothing but a cool ember, your brow creasing, a frown pulling at your perfect lips— a sign of your discontent with him.

He swallowed thickly, his heart clenching in his chest. Your visible upset was sending thrums of anxiety into his stomach, a knot forming amidst your piercing stare. “I’m sorry.” He spoke quietly, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You must be more careful. Thank Eywa the skies were clear, or else you could’ve had lasting,” With this, you punctuate your words with a soft jab to his ribs. “Damage!”

So’lek tenses at your touch, his muscles constricting against the unflattering fabric of his hospital gown. He thanks Eywa for this instead, his involuntary reaction hidden from your dissecting stare. “Alright, alright.” He raises his hands lowly in mock surrender. “I will never endanger myself in that manner again.”

The words hold little weight, the reality of your lives is that this was a common risk. The least critical of them as a matter of fact. You couldn’t hold it against him, it all came from a place of love. For his planet, for his people, for their memory.

Your lips quirked into a shy smile, shaking your head. “One day we will not have to lie to each other like this.” You sighed, raising a hand to pull his bandage back over his hairline as it slid backward. “And you will never have to suffer another day in this metal box.”

So’lek felt his tail begin to thump unconsciously, his hand going to grab it discreetly beneath the blankets. “Until then, I will try to be more careful.” He dipped his head down in a promise of sorts, but if you dipped below the surface you’d see the pool of devotion he drank from in your name. The sword of your trust that dangled over his head holding him accountable, to be something you approved of.

You placed a hand atop his heart gingerly, the sweet scent of ground herbs flooding his nostrils. “Oel ngati kameie, So’lek. Mì fìtseng.” You tapped your fingers against his skin, drawing your hand back gently.

He watched your form retreat away from him, going to continue your work for the day with a promise to visit later. He swore he could feel the warmth of your presence fleeing the room, leaving him with a chill that settled low in his stomach.

He found himself leaving on his own accord shortly after his return to complete consciousness, turning the machines off before detaching the wires from his body to avoid any unnecessary intervention.

He didn’t like the medbay, nor did he like the confinement. You had been right earlier, he craved a future where the isolation of human structures couldn’t separate The People from Eywa, or separate him from you anymore than it already did.

He snuck out without detection, leaving a note on his bedside. He had prayed you’d come before he could leave and stop him where he stood, but he found himself slinking out the back before you had the chance.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

So’lek rested with his back against the cool stones of the river, his chest heaving with exhaustion from the heat. His fingers hovered lazily over the surface of the water, dipping the tips of them in as he skimmed the surface absentmindedly.

His eyes were preoccupied, his golden stare settling along the curve of your waist and the way your tewang settled at the lowest flush point of your hips, the stones tied along the fringe clinking against each other as you step deeper and deeper into the pool of water.

The droplets clung to your abdomen in a way that made his mouth water, only now— he didn’t restrain himself.

He found you quicker than he knew was possible, his hands hovering over the skin of your hips— the cool contrast of your skin sending flushes of chill through his body.

And then, you smiled up at him. Your eyes glowing as if he’d hung the moons above, your body instinctively leaning into his presence.

It undid him, heart swelling as he crushed his lips onto yours. The background fading into silence, the taste of your mouth unraveling the last ounce self restraint he’d been storing inside.

He breathed your air, tasted your essence. He drank from you endlessly.

He awoke in a pool of sweat this time, his face burning a deep purple as he recounted the dream his subconscious had bestowed upon him. His tongue swiped across his lips as if by instinct, and for a second he could’ve sworn he could taste the honeyed oils of your lips still.

What he didn’t expect, was to sit up in his earthen bed and see you. You sat along the cove's rocky entrance, bioluminescent flora sparkling around you as if you were the natural adornment of the earth. His heart seized in his chest.

“Sarentu.. Wha-what are you doing here?” He scrambled to stand, your eyes cast toward him now.

You stood upon hearing him startle, hands raised in a show of peace. “I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to scare you. I found your note at HQ and I wanted to come check on you.” Your mouth went dry as a flush of embarrassment washed over you, the intrusion feeling much more personal now. “But you were, uh, asleep. So I thought I’d wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to violate your privacy.”

So’lek’s face flushed now, a reminiscent burn in his skin as he stepped forward. “No, it’s alright. I’m glad it’s you.”

“It’s always been you,”

He blinked harshly, the words ringing in his ears as he stared at you blankly. The flash of his dreams across a clouded mind made him dizzy, the visage of you before him now becoming almost unbearable.

Your stomach turned at the glassy look that overtook him, your hands coming over to rest upon his shoulders. “Ma So’lek..” You spoke gently, letting your hands drag down the expanse of his shoulders. “Something is bothering you.”

He could say nothing, his jaw wired shut as he peered down at you. He couldn’t breathe, the intoxicating sensation of your hands on his skin filling him with a fire that burned deep within his bloodline. He knew that touch, despite its scarcity. He dreamt of it every night, waking cold and filled with dread upon its departure.

“Talk, Ma So’lek.” You urged, a hand moving to cup his cheek. “Talk to me.”

His resolve began to crumble, the worry in your tone making his heart ache. It was something so vulnerable, so pure, it made his knees weak. “I don’t want to ruin this.” He admitted in a shallow breath, hands trembling as they held back from you.

“I don’t think you’re capable of ruining anything, even if you tried.”

So’lek took this as a sign from Eywa, his hands moving to cup the soft curve of your jaw. His eyes flickered with a brief hesitation, searching the depths of yours for anything telling him to stop— finding nothing, he dipped his head down to press his lips to yours in the chaste spirit of a kiss.

It was devastatingly soft, the way his lips moved against your own. Your knees going weak at his tail curled around your calf, pulling you impossibly close.

He forced himself to pull away, the sweetness of your acceptance making him intake a breath of relief, the fear that held him paralyzed exiting with every sigh of contentment he breathed.

You spoke first, forehead resting against his. “That wasn’t because you have brain damage, right?” You teased, stifling a giggle with your hand, watching as a humorous disbelief overtook him.

So’lek rolled his eyes, shaking you gently. “Brain damage explains my inability to resist my temptations, but you’ve haunted me far longer than you know.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, glowing with flattery as you tore your gaze away from him. “As you have not known my intentions,” The words sat idly on your tongue, tasting ripe with potential. “It has always been you, Ma So’lek, in every way. I had chosen you, long before I knew it was my choice to make.”

“Say it again.” He pleaded, brushing a curl from your eyes. “Ruxte, ruxte.”

“It has always been you, Ma So’lek.”

na’vi word / term directory ᝰ.ᐟ

⤷ skxawng - idiot

⤷ oel ngati kameie - i see you

⤷ mì fìtseng - in here