#uniltaron

A/N: This part is about Tuktirey, because she deserves to be a badass character, too. :) It is a part of my Starcrossed headcanon & it takes place approximately three years after where I left off here. Beneath the sky will have 2/3 chapters, which I will hopefully deliver soon.

Tuktirey was livid.

How come that literally everyone, all her siblings and even Tsireya, Aonung and Spider, who asked if they could join their family for the journey to the High Camp for the occasion – and were given permission by Tonowari just like that –, were about to undergo the Uniltaron in just a few days, but not her?

There was to be a feast, a celebration. Not only all Tuk’s close ones (Spider has already tamed a tsurak and Tsireya was about to finally become the Metkayina tsahìk officially), but also every other young person in the Omaticaya clan that was of age and feeling ready was about to be important for the day. They were about to get the chance to see a message from the ancestors, or - if they’re lucky - their spirit animal.

Literally everyone that Tuk knew was to be included as a participant.

Everyone except her.

And maybe she would be ok with it - if only she didn’t feel like the biggest loser of all time. To illustrate her frustration: when she caught Kiri and Tsireya discussing glow worms and tried to ask about them, Kiri told her that she has no business to care and basically ignored her until she left. When she wanted to help Lo’ak with perfecting his bow for the ritual, he told her that it’s the kind of work a warrior has to do alone. Nobody, not even Spider, who was secretly weaving some kind of a ritual plaid for Kiri, had time to play with her. And it sucked.

It wasn’t fair.

She’s asked the adults about the reason of why she can’t participate too, of course she has.

Mo’at has said that she’s too little for it. Just as mother. And father. (Tuk tried to ask each of them, separately, that’s a sure thing). But when she wasn’t successful in getting the answer she longed for, not from any of them, not even after she tried to argue and reminded them of the fact that she has survived through several battles with the Sky People already, which must have made her more experienced than other kids her age at least a bit in her eyes, grandma caressed her hair gently and whispered: “More the reason not to hurry anywhere, little one, you were robbed of your childhood”; mother told her, with a weird look on her face, to not remind her of those horrible moments; and father snapped at her that she hasn’t yet even tamed an ikran, which means she has no right to insist on this anymore, definitely not according to the Omaticaya rules, if the fact that he said so isn’t enough for her.

All the three interactions were rather intense, to say the truth: Grandma acted oddly un-tsahìk like, just patting her head mindlessly, not even taking her seriously (which was unlike her, honestly). Mother cried (Tuk saw it, even though Neytiri tried to quickly mask it).

But the words her father said... they stung, somehow. And lingered.

...

“Eywa!” Neytiri exclaimed with concern once she saw her daughter, quickly pacing towards her.

“Where were you?!” she demanded, maybe a bit too harshly, but Tuktirey only shrugged and tried to smile innocently (which didn’t work), maybe to make her mother see that she was fine, even though – at the first glance – it probably didn’t seem that way.

She had her hair dishevelled, leaves and dirt stuck in her unravelling braids. She had smears of mud on her body and face, and her lip was freshly torn, a little swollen. There was soil under her nails. And while there were also relatively deep scratches from thorns and sharp rock edges on her calves, the thing that caught Neytiri’s attention the most were Tuk’s quite large scabs on her elbows and knees.

“What happened to you, Tuktirey?!” Neytiri stepped closer to her, reaching to lift her arm carefully, letting her fingers hover above Tuk’s worst wounds carefully.

“It’s nothing,” Tuktirey tried to soften the impact of her embarrassing clumsiness, trying to tug her limb out of her mother’s hold.

“Nothing?!” Neytiri lifted Tuk’s other arm for a change, letting only her look to express her clear lack of conviction. “Do you take me for a fool?”

Tuktirey bit her bloody lip not to let any sound of discomfort or pain escape her throat as Neytiri softly pressed on the bruises.

“You weren’t in the camp for three whole days!” Neytiri reprimanded her daughter, but Tuktirey threw an upset look at her mother in reaction to that. It was like that reproach ignited some suffocated anger in her, that she couldn’t keep in any longer now, due to kind of an unfair handling of the situation by Neytiri.

“I’ve told you that I needed to take a break from everything going on here,” Tuk snapped. “I’ve told you! You said you understood!”

Neytiri scoffed, a hint of disbelieve mirroring in her face. “Yes! But I haven’t expected for you to disappear completely for days, Tuk! Me and father were so concerned! ...And then, as if it wasn’t enough, you show up like this and... what? Expect me not to care?!”

“Aw,” Tuk made a sarcastic grimace. “So you care now? Even though I can’t wear the ritual braids that nobody has time to show me how to make anyways?!” Tuk’s eyes dangerously glowed with vicious satisfaction when what was behind Neytiri’s look changed from frustrated fury to regretting guilt.

“Lovely,” Tuktirey uttered mockingly.

Neytiri’s nostrils flared. “Where were you, Tuk?”

Tuktirey didn’t even blink. “What does it matter, anyway? When I was here, you were sending me to play. I only listened to you.”

Neytiri didn’t really see it before, when she waved Tuk away every time she was curious about traditions tied to Uniltaron, reasoning it by her being too little to know. But now, she realized that she probably made a mistake and didn’t have any right to pry on where her daughter went to sulk, so she just tightened her jaw in restraint and took a deep breath. “Is there any possibility that RDA could have tracked you somehow?”

“No.”

There was a moment of silence, their looks wrestling in determination not to dart away “...Are you absolutely sure?”

Tuktirey knew that Neytiri had to ask. In a way, she understood. But that didn’t change a thing about the way her pride inflated her insides as she smirked with absolute certainty. “Yes.”

“Well, then,” Neytiri uttered sharply, “go make yourself presentable, then. The ritual is taking place tomorrow.”

Tuktirey took the chance to leave.

HEPL….

Edit: I wrote “HEPL”??!?? Ahahahahahh fucking no way

HEPL ME IM STUPID

(read part 1 here)

For the night, Tuk went to Mo’at, who was to be the one assisting with everyone’s passage as a tsahìk. Tuk asked her if she could tell her about the rite instead of a bed story. 

Mo’at didn’t comment on Tuk’s wounds. She welcomed her in her space, allowed her to climb up into her snonivi, shared her soft blanket with her, and told her everything: How it’s done. That the hour of the ritual is not really important, the eclipse only being chosen for effect, but that it’s crucial to firstly let the sacred scorpion bite you and only then can you eat the glow worm. She’s told her what different kind of things would one most probably see during the ceremony and what might usually be the different meanings of the visions...

Everything Tuk asked about, Mo’at told her. That, and even more.

After a few hours, Tuk’s eyes were already closing from fatigue, but she tried to force them open, stay focused on Mo’at’s calming voice and gentle fingers caressing her scalp.

And in her dreams, there were big scorpions and glow worms everywhere, and she was not afraid of them, walking among them with her bare feet. And there were faceless recoms with firearms that started to shoot at her, but she somehow felt that the bullets can’t reach her like Neteyam, because she was under his protection. And there was her own ikran flying in circles above her, and dad’s toruk that fit into her hand and cuddled against her cheek. And also tulkuns opening their mouths as if during some act-out scene, offering her a silly ride like that, waiting for her to hop on, just after she waved at everyone on the beach who came there to watch her become the greatest tulkun rider of all time, better than Lo’ak, even. And mum was there, too, in the first row, cheering – not forbidding. And Tuk had a majestic wreath from green leaves on her head, that she really liked, in which she could command the flowers to bloom, effortlessly, like Kiri, and she felt like she had a right to be great, too.

...

Somewhere during the day, in the whirl of dances and songs and sweet drinks, the feeling ripened. And it was not like Tuk would make any kind of decision about the forbidden stuff per se (that has already been done). But she found peace in settling on the finality of it.

Mo’at has entered the scene, joining her People’s joy in a majestic-looking tunic, with the spirit guide face paint, and Tuk suddenly couldn’t see her grandma in that woman. She swallowed, recognizing the gravity of this whole thing getting under her skin. But she couldn’t turn back now. That would make everything come in vain.

She was ready. And her bruises made her feel light.

...

When the starting eclipse commenced to suck the light out of the day, everyone was already gathered in a circle around the adepts, who were sitting in line in front of the Spirit Tree.

Tuktirey reckoned, at least, that it looked like that, since she was somewhere else. Not too far, so she could hear the drums getting louder. But far enough, so that people couldn’t see her through the trees.

She placed the little cloth bundle that was hanging down from her fist on the ground and sat down next to it. With the insight into what she was about to do, her heart was beating hard against her chest. To her, it felt louder than the deafening sound of drums. And even the speed of her pulse was seemingly increasing with the tempo of the rhythmic pounds.

She could tell, just from the musical performance alone, that the ceremony was almost at its finest moment, the one that everybody was waiting for. And she told herself that she must gather the courage now, or else, she might chicken out.

She found the strength in the bitter truth that nobody was looking for her. That she wasn’t important, even though she deserved to be. In her eyes, it was injustice, to forbid her from being like others. It was why she was here.

She quickly reached for the knot and untied the corners of the cloth and against the bright white linen square, an arthropod-like creature raised its tail in a threatening posture.

Tuk scrunched her nose, swallowed and reached into the small leather pouch attached to her waist strap. When she felt the slimy surface of the moving glow worm in her palm, she gritted her teeth, trying to filter out her disgust.

A thought about how she might gag started materializing in her head, and she got afraid that she might change her mind. Before she could do it, she hurriedly pushed her hand against the scorpion’s head, making it angry.

Immediately, a sharp pain shot through Tuk’s hand. The shock from the burning sensation made her scream and even before she managed to pull her hand back, a wave of dizziness seized her.

With growing dread, she quickly pushed the glow warm prepared in her other palm into her mouth, but it was all somehow quicker than she anticipated and even before she could chew, the world got too blurry and she lost control over her body.

Her inhale felt like an echo in her skull, too loud, and then, only the thudding sound followed as Tuk’s head fell against the grass.

She was laying there, her body motionless, only the glowing slime from the worm dripping out of her mouth as her teeth clacked together with the force of the fall.

Tuk’s last thought was that maybe, this might have been a mistake after all.

(read part 1 here)

(read part 2 here)

A/N: So there will be 4 parts, I guess.

With a speech in the name of Eywa, in which Mo’at challenged the initiates’ courage, wishing them good luck during the Dream hunt, she gradually put a glow worm into each of their mouths.

Everyone knew that they couldn’t chew and swallow until they get bitten by the sacred scorpions, so that the poisons would react right. It was why they made weird faces, trying to disconnect from the nauseating feeling of having a writhing body of an annelid against their tongues.

When Mo’at was finally done, she signalled to the bunch of her assistants to bring forward the stone jars with scorpions.

The drums were getting louder and louder, people humming with it, the insane energy accumulating into what everyone could predict as that overwhelming feeling of a momentum magic once it snaps.

To Mo’at’s following gesture, the assistants lifted the lids.

It was smooth. Everyone was moving as one man.

But then, one of the youngsters nervously turned his head to the tsahìk, his eyes wide.

Mo’at carefully stepped closer, looking to where the young boy’s eyes were fixated to, realizing that his container was empty.

Her initial reaction was to feel a slight alarm (to have the sacred scorpion run somewhere around, possibly killing multiple people, was not exactly a tsahìk’s dream, to be honest) and blame the boy, whose gaze was now hanging on her with anticipation of something, probably her wrath.

What would he have to do for the scorpion to disappear from its jar, though? Would he even have the guts to reach for it, knowing full well that the bite could be deadly? Also, judging from the way he seemed in shock, Mo’at could tell that the lad would not dare to pull a juvenile move like this. Thinking of it, having everyone stare at her with anticipation, she realized that no-one from the kids in front of her, who were the only ones with access to the stone jars, would ever do it. They respected the ways of this clan too much for it. And to risk punishment would not be worth any kind of peer pressure and stupid teenage challenges to rebel against authorities. Not today. This could not be a prank...

Many would probably describe the drum roll as something that induced trance-like state, all of the thoughts drowning in the overwhelming sound, and into it, a picture of Tuktirey’s curious forehead wrinkles flashed through Mo’at’s head altogether with her voice: “So the secret to not let the scorpions bite you is to handle them with cloth, then?”

“That’s right, yes. They often climb on it themselves,” her own reply rang in her ears. “And if I need to carry them in my hand, I always use at least four folded layers to separate my skin from them, so that the stingers on their telsons can’t come through.”

Tuktirey also had access to the jars in the morning. She could have stolen one of the scorpions before she left Mo’at’s place–

Oh, Eywa.

She should have known that something was off. Tuk has never before showed interest in the rites. Not to the extent of coming to spend the night to ask questions about them. Her cuddles, which Mo’at interpreted as a need for kindness that her parents struggled with ever since Neteyam’s death, were not at all what she thought, but a calculated step towards Tuk’s goal of doing something really stupid and dangerous.

Mo’at quickly turned around, finding Neytiri’s face in the crowd. Next to her, there was Jake. All their children were in line. But Tuktirey was not under the Spirit Tree, nor by any of her parent’s side.

At one moment, the sound of drums stopped as if somebody cut into it, killing it and letting the deafening silence take the rein over the world. Unaware of the emotional storm happening in Mo’at’s soul, all the adepts moved their hands into the containers. And then, several things happened at exactly the same moment:

First, all the initiates except Spider (whose stone jar, as he also found out, was empty), flinched and hissed in pain, anxiously remembering to chew on the glow worms in their mouths while staring at their bitten hand until their legs started giving out and they fell to the ground one by one, as sacks of potatoes.

Second, Neytiri suddenly understood the look in Mo’at’s eyes, as the tsahìk whispered: “We need to find Tuk. Now.”

And third, a heart wrenching ikran shriek filled the space from somewhere not so far from here.

(read part 1 here)

(read part 2 here)

(read part 3 here)

(read part 4 here)

The colours seemed to be somehow... different. 

Tuk didn’t know how, exactly, but they were vivid, as if living on their own, stepping out of shadows in blurry contours, like if the fog around was their echo.

It felt a bit like what she remembered from the stories of neon signs in a foggy Charlotte night, which dad used to describe as bright as if they were made out of the fluorescent jellyfish, when she made him speak of Earth and then forced him to remember the town he lived in a long time ago.

He probably didn’t like his life in the slum there much, she reckoned (because every time he spoke of anything following his injury from the combatt mission in Venezuela when he was at the Marines, there was something heavy in his voice), but she was so curious about that far away world, greedy to always know more, and every time, Jake tried to get her a glimpse of something worth it, the neon signs being one of these things, like elevators, subway stations or stray dogs.

Suddenly, Tuk realized that the contours started turning into shapes, opening a view of the RDA airbase with all kind of aircraft altogether with the ships that sometimes arrived from Earth. 

She’s already been there. It was where they were sometimes stealing weapons from. And even now, it felt like if she was sneaking, trying not to get seen, until she stopped in front of one of the ships that transported Sky people or their goods between the planets. The focus of her vision turned to the opening door of this specific spacecraft, and it felt a little crutial, to not blink, like if she might miss something important even in such a small time.

She was waiting, only the blood in her temples setting any concept of time, and then, a small animal appeared in her field of vision. It must have been something from Earth, because it had fur and four legs, and its pointy snout and small ears made her think back to all the hours she spent in Grace’s office with Kiri and Spider, watching all the videos about Earth that they could find.

If she wasn’t wrong, this creature right in front of her was a rat. 

Tuk’s first reaction to when the cute being ran up all the way to her and lifted its black bead-like eyes to her, was to smile and outstretch her fingers to touch.

But once she realized that for a spirit animal, a rat is quite a mockery, she quickly pulled her hand back, making a discontent face.

At once, a lightning cut through the sky, somehow making the whole place rattle, and she heard her mother’s voice from a distance, the rat also reacting to it, its ears perking up. It sounded like Neytiri was begging her daughter to do something. Like if it was important. But it was impossible for Tuk to figure out the words as they were muffled. 

In a single moment that she used to look around for where the sounds came from, though, the rat’s features somehow changed, like if the uselessness and innocence that she saw at first got possesed by something demonic. Looking back at it, Kiri got so scared by the sight that she screamed and – without thinking – stepped on its tiny body before it could grow, the following guilt immediately settling over her soul, a need to vomit over the crack and blood and intestins under her sole unabling her to breathe. She cried again, but this time, it felt like if she got dragged under water, like if a strong current swallowed her and moved her as a log across worlds—

...

"Mum?" Tuk blinked into the light confusedly, her eyelids feeling heavy.

"Ma Tuk!" Neytiri reached forward to carefully but swiftly pull her up and squeeze her in a hug, tugging at several wires that were plastered to Tuk’s chest, plus a cannula coming out of her wrist like that, as the girl only then realized.

She looked around, seeing the inside of Norm’s lab.

"Why... why are we here?" she asked, her brow furrowing. She noticed only then that Neytiri was crying, unable to tell her anything apart from: "We were so scared, baby! You weren’t waking up for days!"

Shards of memories started to come back to her: The night of the eclipse. The scorpion bite. The glow-worm’s taste... Everything. 

They probably found her, thinking she died, and then - thanks to her insane luck, as it seemed - proceeded to save her ass with Norm’s help.

"Oh," she patted her mother’s back hesitantly, and because she had conscience, at least, she added also: "I’m sorry."

It didn’t take long before mum finally let go and more people gathered around her bed, Kiri and Spider and Lo’ak with Tsireya and dad. Most of them expressed some kind of gratefulness for her survival or just squeezed her hand  encouragingly, except Lo’ak, who jumped to the hem of the matress and wiggled his eyebrows conspicuously. "So is it true?! That you’re the youngest ikran rider?"

Feeling her father’s eyes on her, Tuk swallowed. "I—"

"That’s so badass," her brother chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. "How did you find the way to the den alone, you little minx?"

"Lo’ak," Jake snapped, stepping closer, turning to Tuktirey. She expected him to say something about how she dissapointed him. Something about disowning her for not listening to his orders, which was something that already cost life one of his children before her. 

But instead, Jake kind of stole her breath with: "There will be time for that story once she feels better."

Tuktirey felt tears running down her cheeks with that sentence, reaching for him and slotting into his firm embrace with a sob. "I’m so sorry, dad," she whispered, "I just really felt like I can do it—"

"You did it, baby," Jake breathed against her forehead, sgueezing her frame gently, caressing her hair, and she nuzzled into him and cried some more, her tears sliding down Jake’s chest.

It was when Mo’at entered the lab, Norm just  behind her. The tsahìk pushed Jake to the side, reaching for Tuk’s cheek. "Child. Did you see something?"

Tuk felt everyone’s looks focusing on her lips, that opened and closed, no sound coming out of them.

"Did Eywa show you anything?" Mo’at repeated the question. 

There was a glimpse of that rat again in Tuk’s head. 

"...It’s absolutely ok if not, too. You wouldn’t be the first one or the last one," Mo’at patted her knee.

But somehow, That didn’t encourage Tuk to tell her. Because what she saw... she probably was the first one to ever see such a thing. It felt wrong. Like something she should better keep to herself, because it could have consequences. Because none of Mo’at’s stories about Uniltaron visions ever featured a murder... or blood. 

What she saw... it was evil. And even though she had no idea why Eywa let her feel it... and become it... she wasn’t  prepared for everyone to see what kind of messanger Great Mother took her for.

So she forced herself to shake her head, took in a shallow breath. 

"I haven’t seen nothing, granny," she said and swallowed, her secret already weighting her down.

A/N: Sorry, I've been travelling the last two weeks and so this is taking a bit longer. Also. Probably don't listen to my estimations about how many chapters something will have, for I tend to be wrong. :)

(read part 1 here)

(read part 2 here)

(read part 3 here)

With just being left there standing as everyone else fell into trance, Spider had every right to feel anger. But there wasn’t even a drop of that emotion in his heart. He didn’t take it as injustice, that he ended up as the only one for whom there was no scorpion left. No. This, it was Eywa’s will. Maybe she saved his life with this. Or maybe, she had a plan for someone else with that poisounous bite. Someone more important than him. He didn’t know. But he didn’t feel bitter.

Quickly adjusting to the situation, he looked at his left, where Kiri’s body collapsed. He knew that she was strong, that she will make it out of this ritual with the most unique vision ever. He knew. But still, there was a bit of worry in his heart, seeing her unmoving like this. His instinct was to go and kneel beside her, pull her into his hold, guard her heartbeat for the whole time until it’s over. But that was when he heard Mo’at say that thing about Tuk and saw the realization and fear in Neytiri’s eyes as she started to turn around with nothing to hold onto except Jake’s bicep that sure was stronger than his understanding for their youngest daughter. The orange glow of torches tearing the night apart were mirroring in their corneas, the beam turning from majestic to haunting, unsettling, almost ominous like that.

It became even worse with the sound that came next, so unexpected that he couldn’t see surprise on people’s faces - but caution and worry. Murmurs started to echo through the space, warriors reaching for their bows, and Spider felt unease climbing up his chest. 

And then, even if it cost him everything not to run to Kiri after giving her one last look, he watched Neytiri reaching for her weapons, saying something to her husband in a hurry, urgently pointing to two directions into the forest. One path for her, one for him. Making it more effective.

He followed Jake.

...

"Tuk! TUUUK!" Spider shouted after the echo of Neytiri’s imitations of bird calls quitened down again, followed by no answer, using one of his palms to form the shape of a large shell that the Metkayina clan used for enforcing sound, while in his second hand, he was holding the torch. "...Come on, girl! Show yourself!"

"Tuk!" Jake shouted from just a few meters away, scanning the shrubs with his torch. "Baby, come on! Where are you?! ...Please, show yourself! Your mother is so scared—"

Spider stopped, turning his head, watching Jake’s face. "Why don’t you tell her that you’re worried, too?"

Jake’s nostrils flared, he winced when the meaning of Spider’s words registered, quickly shaking his head. "Fear never helps. It makes me do things I regret. I almost lost Lo’ak because of it. I made it too easy for Quaritch to find Metkayina because of it. And I almost took your life, also because of it."

Spider’s jaw tightened. "It didn’t happen."

Jake looked elsewhere, shaking his head determinedly. "Fear never helps, Spider."

But Spider couldn’t have that. "Well, but love does! Maybe Tuk just needs to hear you say something that will make her feel loved!"

"I do love her!" Jake snapped.

Spider felt irritation bubble in his gut. "Well, let her fucking know!"

Jake took in a sharp breath to shoot back some angry reply, but that was when the ikran cry shook the forest again.

Spider and Jake both just exchanged a look and followed the sound, giving their all into the run.

"TUK!"

"TUK!"

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Spider could hear even Neytiri's fast feet, her steps approaching, until they were running side by side, until the trees opened in front of them. Their torches casted beams of light across the leaves and the roots and the scene that made it clear that Tuk found her own way to what she wanted, a glowing slime smeared from her lips to her chin. And there, above Tuk’s unmoving body, stood a majestic creature – a mountain ikran. It made another sound, as if crying from grief of having to guard it’s rider’s corpse.

Witnessing the scene, all three of them let out a horrified gasp. Tuk was freshly a twelve-year old. No Na’vi has ever tamed an ikran as young.

Neytiri was the first one who dared to move, letting her weapons slide down to the ground, lifting her hands up in surrender, making it clear that she wasn’t a threat, trying to sooth the animal with her voice: "I’m going to help her, if you let me, ok? Please? She’s my daughter. I want to help."

Only when she was allowed, she kneeled beside Tuk and took her wrist into her palm, pressing two fingers against her pulse point. After the longest while, she moved to lay an ear against Tuk’s heart, as if to check that she didn’t make a mistake in her first observation. To Jake, that action felt sickeningly awful, like if she wanted to be wrong. 

A flashback to the blood oozing out of Neteyam’s wound suddenly came to him as he stared at the glowing slime coming out of Tuk’s mouth, and it made him want to puke. He couldn’t breathe until Neytiri locked eyes with him, insane guilt pressing down his lungs.

And then.

"She’s not breathing, Jake!" Neytiri shouted, following that sentence with a rather hysterical cry, dragging Tuk’s body up and pressing her head against her chest. "My girl is not breathing!"

Spider swallowed. 

Jake just stared. Seeing his wife in this state again, after Neteyam, he wanted to die. A strong wave of nausea hit him. It felt almost like he will fall, unable to stand. 

He failed. Again. As a man, a father, a husband. He didn’t protect his little girl. Didn’t protect Neytiri from living this twice. He didn’t come here at time. And Tuk, the stubborn menace... she had to prove him wrong even now, leaving a fucking ikran behind.

Spider stepped closer to Neytiri. "Maybe it’s not... It might just be the trance..."

Neytiri suppressed her next shriek, teary eyes snapping to the boy. 

"Mo’at has told us that sometimes, the scorpion venom turns the pulse so slow that it makes people seem dead. But maybe she’s not. Not yet, at least. So if we get her to Norm and let him use a defibrillator..."

Jake quickly jumped forward, pushing his torch into Spider’s hand, scooping Tuk into his arms. 

And they were running again.

Hello. I’ll leave this here as about confirmation that I’m completely crazy about The Avatar!

If this train goes to a psychiatric hospital, then I stay until the last stop! I’m so happy, finally.