series new beginnings
neteyam sully x fem!tawkami!reader
summary: after a brutal run in with the RDA, your clan falls victim to one of their many targeted attacks in search of the one they call "toruk makto." they leave nothing but blood in their wake, leading to you becoming your clan's new tsahik and having to bear it all with no one to rely on. with only your faith left, you lead your clan out of the dense rainforest, into the populated forest where omatikaya live. there, you formulate a new beginning. TO LEARN MORE ON THE TAWKAMI CLAN, SKIP TO THE END!!!! I recommend reading the info before continuing!
tags: hurt , angst , death , mentions of violence , comfortish , sfw
a/n: eeeek this took so long but I'm kinda happy with it
theme: (will be linked through the chapter)
◟theme one : shutting down grace's lab
It all happened fast. Too fast. Faster than you could scream out and beg Eywa for her mercy. Everything you knew: burned. People you loved: dead. It was all gone. All you could hear was the gentle crackle of fire, and the cry of your people.
You pulled yourself out of the tall palm tree your mother, Mireya, tucked you under, insisting you stay put and do not move, no matter what happened. She refused to stay with you, pouring her final strength into saving who she could, whispering prayers to Eywa even as embers rained.
The heat burned at your skin as you stumbled forward, lungs searing, eyes burning from the smoke. The once-vibrant canopy with layers of glowing orchids, healing pods the size of ikran nests, now reduced to ash. And through the village, bodies. An endless path of them.
You carefully walked through the clearing, man-made by the sky people as they carelessly sliced through the vines. The rest of the survivors, your people, following your steps. You looked each way, burnt, blood, destruction. The RDA were long gone now, nothing but the ash they left in their wake even when you complied with every order, every detail you could muster. And still not satisfied, they left it all to ruin.
You moved like someone in a nightmare you could not wake from. Each step numb as though if you walked slowly enough it would all reverse. The ground beneath your bare feet was wrong. Warm, sap and blood, littered with shattered vials that once held your mother's most precious extracts. Petals that used to drift like soft rain now clung wetly to your ankles, blackened and curled.
You stopped in your tracks. It was too much to bear. You looked at the others emerging from their hiding spots in the shadows, then back to the destruction that lay in front of you. You started to tear up. You opened your mouth to say something, something unintelligible, impossible to understand as you started to cry. You sucked in a breath and gave out a loud cry as you fell to your knees on the ground. "Ma Eywa..." You sobbed, clutching the vial that dangled from your neck. "Great Mother, why did they do this?" You wailed, looking up again from the ground. Tears poured freely from your eyes. You didn't care who saw, or what they thought. Your pain was real.
You rocked forward, forehead pressing into the scorched earth. The smell of char filled your lungs, bitter tasting. You heaved and sobbed, a hand flying to cover your sobs. Everything was gone. Everything your people had worked so hard to build. Everything you knew from birth, reduced to ash.
Around you, the survivors gathered in a broken circle. Mothers clutched infants that stifled their cries. Elders leaned on one another. No one spoke. What words could possibly mend this? Your people cried with you, sharing your grief. The sobs that ripped from your chest echoed through the clearing, answered by the broken whimpers of the others.
No answer came from Eywa. No breeze stirred the dead leaves. Only the soft crackle of dying embers.
Then a hand touched your shoulder.
Verya. An elder of the clan. She did not speak at first. Instead she gently tugged at the layered sashes you wore. Her fingers traced the frayed edges with care, as though reminding you they were still there.
"Tsahik," she whispered, "What do we do?"
Tsahìk.
Not "child." Not "daughter of Mireya." Not even your name.
Tsahìk.
You drew a shuddering breath. Wiped ash and tears from your face with the back of your hand. You turned and looked at each face. Survivors. Beating hearts carrying fragments of everything the Tawkami had been. You then again turned toward the wall of green beyond the burn flora, where the forest still breathed.
"We go to the Omatikaya," you said. "My mother helped Mo'at once, when their people were sick. They will remember. They will give uturu. And there, we will plant again. We will teach again. We will heal again."
One warrior, Txor spoke up, "Where they harbor Toruk Macto? Should that not make us their target?" He hissed, but underneath it bore fear.
You rose to your feet without word, face to your feet. "It is our only hope." You whispered.
Verya nodded slowly. "Mireya trusted Mo'at. That trust did not die with her."
Txor exhaled through his nose. "Then we walk. But if they turn us away-"
"They won't." You cut him off gently, with the certainty your mother had always carried in the same breath. "And if they do… we keep walking. We find another place. We carry the colors forward."
No one argued. And there the journey began. To a new home. To a new beginning. With only your faith.
◟theme two : pure spirits of the world
It was just nearing eclipse when Lo'ak, Kiri, Spider, and Tuk were on their way back home from an expedition.
"Tuk, come on!" Lo'ak shouted from in front of the line. Tuk was preoccupied with some glowing algae that caught her attention enough that she stopped in her tracks to touch it.
The bioluminescent pulsed softly under her fingertips, shifting from cool blue to warm violet as she poked it. "Look! It's like it's breathing back at me!"
Kiri crouched beside her sister, eyes bright with that wonder she always had. "It's responding to your warmth. See how the light follows your hand? It's saying hello."
Spider grinned, leaning against a nearby tree. "Yeah, well, if it starts talking back, I'm out. Last thing we need is glowing plants telling us we're late for dinner again."
Lo'ak rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the fond smirk. "We're already late. Dad's gonna have our tails if we don't get back before full dark. Tuk, move it, or I'm carrying you the rest of the way like a baby." Tuk stuck out her tongue but finally tore herself away from the algae, running to catch up.
They were almost out of the dense forest when Kiri paused, ears twitching. "Wait. Did you hear that?" Lo'ak froze mid-step. "Hear what?"
You stopped breathing for a moment. They definitely heard you. Little did they know, until now, that you had been following them all along, silently from the shadows of the trees, something your clan was very skilled in: stealth.
These past days, keeping your small band hidden while you scouted ahead for safe paths, for water, for signs of other Na'vi. It was particularly difficult once you had found out the Omatikaya Hometree had burned down, and you had no other ideas of their whereabouts. Tonight, you had spotted these four young ones. Bright, noisy, carefree. Something in their demeanor had pulled you closer instead of farther away.
Now they had frozen, ears swiveling toward the rustle you hadn't meant to make. A dry leaf under your foot, betraying you at the worst possible moment.
Kiri's eyes locked onto the exact spot where you crouched behind a curtain of glowing vines. Her tail flicked once. Lo'ak stepped in front of Tuk protectively, drawing his bow.
You hesitated. Your heart hammered in your ribs. Behind you, deeper in the shadows, the others waited silently, trusting you. You could slip away. Vanish back into the green. But these children... they carried the scent of the Omatikaya. Mo'at's people. Your only hope.
Slowly, you came out from behind a tree trunk. Vines parted around you, tickling your skin. You stepped into the open, hands raised palms out to signal no weapon. The appearance of the Tawkami was always a culture shock to most na'vi. Instead of the protective camouflaged neutral pallets the na'vi wore to blend in, the Tawkami embraced the vibrant patterns of the forest. So here you stood, head to toe in beautiful floral arrangements. In your hair, in your top, and even in your tail. Not to mention, your clan was notoriously known for their beauty.
Even covered in ash and soot, even with exhaustion carving shadows beneath your eyes, the sight of you seemed to steal the words from anyone.
Tuk's mouth fell open first. "You're like… a flower person," she breathed, eyes huge and sparkling.
Kiri lowered her own knife slowly, curiosity overtaking caution. Her gaze followed the double sash draped across your chest. The lower one still carrying the intricate violets and molten golds of a master alchemist, the upper one frayed at the edges but stubbornly colorful. Recognition flickered across her face.
"Tawkami," she exhaled softly. “The deep-jungle healers." Lo'ak's bow stayed half-raised, though his ears flicked back in uncertainty. "You followed us?" His voice carried the strength of a warrior's instinct.
You carefully dropped your hands down to your sides. "We had to be sure, that you weren't threats." You flicked your ears forward.
"We?" Spider chimed in, his bow still half drawn as well.
"Yes." You replied, turning towards the trees you were once hiding in. "The rest of my people." As you finished your last words, the rest of your people crept out from their coverage. Verya emerged first, her aged frame leaning heavily on the carved staff. Behind her came Txor, broad-shouldered and watchful, his hand resting hovering over the small ceremonial dagger at his hip that he had never once drawn in anger. The two apprentices followed, clutching tightly to pouches of salvaged seeds and dried petals, their young faces streaked with ash and tear-tracks. The rest of them all poured out, eighteen in total. What once came from at least three hundred.
The four children stared in stunned silence. Tuk was the first to break it. "There's… so few of you," she whispered, voice small and cracking at the end.
You felt the words like you almost didn't believe it yourself, but you only nodded once. "Yes." You whispered, trying to keep from crying again.
Lo'ak finally let his bow drop completely to his side. The tension in his shoulders eased.
You sucked in a breath and spoke: your name first. "...Daughter of Mireya, who once helped your tsahik, Mo'at when the red fever came to your clan. This-" you gestured behind you without turning, "-is all that remains of the Tawkami."
They listened as you spoke. "The sky people," you began, "They came for Toruk Makto. We said nothing. We gave them no fight. We offered no resistance. And still…" Your voice faltered for only a second. "They burned everything. Everyone."
Spider exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away for a moment, shaking his head. "That's… fucked up."
You narrowed your eyes at the human, ears flattening a fraction. But you remained polite.
Tuk, disregarding every horrible thing you just relayed, scooted closer to you, eyes fixed on the flowers woven through your tail. "Do they still smell nice? Even after… everything?"
Despite yourself, a faint giggle escaped you. "Some of them do. The night-blooming ones are stubborn. They keep their scent longer than most. Sometimes it's the only thing I can smell for days." Tuk reached out tentatively. You lowered your tail slightly so she could brush her fingers along one of the small white blossoms still clinging near the tip. She smiled.
Kiri turned to Lo'ak. "We need to take them up. Now. Mom and Dad have to see this." Lo'ak nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I think they're the same people who are looking for Dad."
You caught their quiet conversation amongst themselves, and stepped forward with little hesitation. You were taller than them both. "I request you take me to the Olo'eyktan." You took Kiri's hands in your own trembling ones.
Kiri did not pull away. Instead she squeezed back. "We will," she said simply. "You're not asking strangers. You're asking family who remember a debt."
◟theme three : sanctuary
The hike to High Camp was intense. It was steep, sharp, and jagged. Sure you had experience scaling jungle mangrove, but never had impending doom staring back down at you this high up. The wind whipped stronger the higher you climbed.
Once you ensured everyone was accounted for, you followed Lo'ak and his siblings further into the camp. It was secluded in the floating mountains, a perfect hiding spot. You kept your own trembling hidden behind deep breaths.
All eyes were on you. Your vibrancy and the smell of ash. Whispers rippled through clan members, and others just stared. Not in a threatening way, but in one of confusion. The Tawkami were known for having a strong friendship with the Omatikaya for their help the time the clan fell ill.
Kiri turned to you after speaking with someone just out of your view, "My father and mother have not returned yet, however..." She stepped aside, letting a woman barge past her.
An older woman. One who carried the sheath of the Tsahik. Mo'at.
You immediately recognized her and dipped your head and reached your fingers from your head in greeting. "I See you, Mo-" Before you could finish your sentence, Mo'at caught you in a warm embrace. She whispered your name into your hair, hugging you so tight you had to fight to breathe. "Child, why have you come to us?" She pulled back, and clasped her hands on either side of your face, examining your charred appearance. It was unusual for you to be here in such disarray. "Mireya, is she alright?"
It felt like a sucker punch to the stomach hearing your mother's name. Your ears flattened. You tried to speak. Your mouth opened, closed, and opened again. But all that fell out were cries and other unintelligible words.
Then her face crumpled. Quiet grief of someone who had lost a sister in spirit long before the body followed. "Ah, child…" Mo'at exhaled. She drew you back into her arms, this time gentler, one hand cradling the back of your head. "My heart breaks with yours."
You leaned into her warmth, embracing the softness of her touch.
Mo'at straightened. Her voice rose, carrying across the platform for all to hear.
"Uturu is granted," she declared. "The Tawkami are no longer guests. They are kin. They have lost their home as we once lost ours. They will share our fires, our food, our protection. And we will learn from them what Mireya once taught me, how to coax life even from scorched earth."
You pulled your head back to face her, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "But the Olo'eyktan. I haven't-"
"You are granted to stay, by my authority alone." Mo'at caught you off, not cruely, but with the same compassion and insistence Mireya once shown Mo'at.
Before you could even argue further, the loud blow of horns shushed the camp. The war party had returned. You flicked your ears towards the sound of arriving soldiers through the opening of the camp.
Tuk jumped up and grabbed your hand enthusiastically. "The war party has returned! Come on! You'll like Dad. He's really tall, but nice. And Neteyam, he's the best at everything!"
You managed a small, tired smile for her, though your chest felt tight. You felt nervous, sad, and angry all in one. You weren't sure what you were going to say to the Toruk Makto. You weren't given much time to think when he approached you directly.
Jake Sully, Toruk Makto: still in his battle gear, bow slung across his back. Neytiri walked beside him, her gaze sharp and assessing as it swept over the gathered Tawkami survivors. Next to them both, your eyes caught on the figure lagging just a step: Neteyam.
He was wiping dirt from his own face. Remnants of whatever they'd returned from, when his gaze landed on you. He stopped in his action. His ears flicked forward, tail flicking once in quiet interest.
Mo'at stepped forward, sensing your unsteadiness. "Jake. Neytiri. The Tawkami have come seeking uturu. The sky people burned their home. The Tsahik is gone."
Jake looked at the small cluster of your people. Eighteen, many children or elders, then back to you. He took in a deep breath, "I'm sorry. You're safe here. All of you."
You blinked hard and swallowed down your fear. "Toruk Makto," you whispered, dipping your head and hand in greeting, "I See you."
Jake raised his palm at you. "It's okay. It's- There's no need." He gave a small smile then back to his gruff expression.
You blushed a little in embarrassment. You sucked in a breath again before you spoke. "The Sky people," you started, "They came asking for you. We told them nothing." You looked behind you, shaking your heads at your people. They in turn also shook their heads admitting no betrayal.
Jake's expression softened further. He turned to look at Neytiri who gave him a silent look of acknowledgement. "Right. Uh- We'll talk later once we get you situated." Jake extended turned around to your group of people. "All of you."
You nodded, allowing your people to walk in front of you first to the healing marui. Some injured, some cold, some hungry. As your people moved toward the healing marui, you lingered a moment longer, watching Jake and Neytiri exchange quiet words with Mo'at. You couldn't shake the feeling someone was staring holes into the back of your head. You glanced over your shoulder, and sure enough, Neteyam, son of Jake Sully, was right behind you.
You turned around fully now, facing him as he did you. "Neteyam," You said dipping your head and fingers in greeting, "Son of Toruk Makto."
He returned the gesture saying your name, dipping his head and fingers, "...Daughter of Mireya."
You blushed a little at his formalities. He was almost an exact replica of his father. Handsome, polite. Neteyam held your gaze a little longer than necessary, the formal greeting lingering between you in an awkward silence. He glanced toward the healing marui where the last of your people were gathering inside, then back to you. "They'll be cared for. Mo'at won’t let anyone suffer tonight." He broke the silence, clearing his throat.
You nodded, swallowing the knot in your throat. "Thank you. And your family. For all of this." You let your hands toy with the loose strands in your hip sash.
"You don't have to thank us," he said gently, enough that it felt like the words were just for you. "Not after what you've already carried."
You swallowed hard again, nodding, unsure what to say. Sensing the silence creeping back up, he turned his focus to the colorful sash. "The Tawkami have an excellent taste for the vibrancy in their clothing." He flicked his gaze down your body and back up to your face. "Beautiful."
You felt the heat crawl up your neck. Replaying the word 'beautiful' in your head, unsure if he was really talking about the sash.
"I… thank you," you managed, voice quieter than you intended. "Though I'm not sure how beautiful anything looks right now."
Neteyam shook his head with a smile. "Eywa has her way of letting beauty shine through, bad tried to hide it."
Your fingers tightened around the fringed edge of your sash as if it could anchor you. You blinked with your mouth parted a little. Then realizing how you probably looked, you let out a soft laugh and smile, that honestly sounded a little too forced despite the fact you meant it.
Neteyam smiled back, enjoying the light in your eyes rekindling back to life despite it all. He thought for a moment, "You know, since you will be staying with us for a while, I wouldn't mind showing you around." His face seemed genuine as he searched your eyes. "It's the least I could do. I would be honored to show Tsahik of the Tawkami the way of the Omatikaya." Neteyam's offer hung in the air between you, simple and sincere.
You searched his face, the gold of his eyes, the quiet earnestness that had already become familiar in these short moments. There was no pity there. No obligation. Just kindness. The same kindness he'd shown when he first stepped forward. When he hadn't looked at you like a broken fern but like someone still whole beneath the storm.
Your smile softened, eyes squinting with the intensity of it. "I would like that," you said quietly. "Very much."
His tail gave a pleased flick. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction, as though he'd been holding his breath for your answer. "Then it’s settled." He tilted his head. "Tomorrow, at dawn."
You eagerly nodded, even though you were anything but an early ikran (bird). He waited just long enough for you to nod before turning to join his father, possibly to discuss their next skirmishes on the sky people. For once, you felt a bit more at ease since earlier events. You could exhale, not worry about someone or something creeping up behind you. Perhaps this was the start of a new beginning.
CANON: The Tawkami are native to the dense rainforest of Pandora. They are known as botanists and chemists that specialize in medicine. They're heavily adorned with vibrant flowers and plants in their, hair, clothes, etc. They use a symbol of achievement called 'sra' or 'sash'. It is a celebration of ongoing studies and level of competence. The more colorful the sash, the more experienced the alchemist. They are known to craft powerful medicines and poisons from plants. HEAD CANON: They are very peaceful na'vi, and refuse any altercation. Thus, they have little battle experience.
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