oel ngati kameie

Syrikxana is Kaynokxi's older sister, and has always been… different. The albinism was apparent - pale blue skin and those pink eyes that flickered back and forth just enough that her father stopped making eye contact with her. But the other complications made themselves clear as she got older. Vision and hearing problems, repeated infections that wrecked her for over a week each time that lingered for months. Nosebleeds, and any stray cut would bleed and bleed and bleed. It did, admittedly and unsurprisingly, make her somewhat grouchy. Especially with her younger brother. The last thing you need when you feel like garbage is your brother and your father absolutely blowing up within earshot.

Considering the sun gave her headaches, Syrikxana became something of a night owl. Waking up late meant most of the time it was quiet. Or, even better, she would wake up to a good meal and celebration and ride that high until the morning. With that in mind, and celebrations being so exciting for her, Syrikxana learned that she loved to dance.

Heavy drums were more reliable to her for a solid beat than for the rhythm of any wind instruments that could be lost to the buzzing and ringing of her ears, but drums she could follow. Drums, and the loud singing and shouting of her audience, she found fluidity, her own sort of freedom where people didn't look at her like some sort of fragile shell that could crush if dropped.

These performances became her outlet, and a connection to her people. She was watched, admired by firelight as the crowd lost itself in song and the movement of her body and the way her gossamer thin sleeves and clicking beads caught the light. Her useful, troublesome brother retiring early meaning that, while she may not protect her clan, she could entertain them and their hosts both. She also has much better luck coordinating trades with the locals than her brother, who she thinks is a soft hearted fool with a big mouth.

Kaynokxì is the rough-edged Tlalim boy who has always been something of a project to his father Kinkawe. While his sister was always dripping with charm, would push a sale with a smile and a vaguely self-deprecating comment, Kaynokxì struggled with… painting a picture. He was honest. If something was trash he would say it, and would undercut prices because why would you barter for something far better than what you were giving? He was generous, and he was honest, and neither of these make a particularly good merchant. Yes, he's a young man, but he's a man who needs perhaps to get a brain about him.

As a result, Kaynokxì is one of the newer outriders with Yompìwopx, meaning 'cloud eater'. They're an incredibly agile pair, pulling tight manoeuvrers that more experienced riders might struggle with. While outriding may be boring, scouting is much more exciting, allowing the pair to ride ahead, and hit new speeds. Even if Kaynokxì has taken more branches to the face than he would like with his recklessness, and Yompìwopx's mischievous nature often means that trips closer to rivers or seas have Kaynokxì dunked and coming back to the travelling ships absolutely drenched.

Obviously, with the return of the Sky People, the trade routes have to change to avoid bases, drilling sites, oil rigs. Smoke on the horizon used to be a sign to go and help, or to drop by for a meal with a tribe for a celebration. But the smoke is thicker now, more sour, and it lingers. Scouts have the keep from getting too close, to protect the people on their travels. Being young and bullheaded, Kaynokxì takes it upon himself to take down whatever smaller aircraft he can, from afar. Arrows in motors and blades, through windshields if he can. He isn't meant to, and his father chews him out for it, but he isn't scared.

Äyäan was ten when life changed. When the Sky People returned with their smoke and their guns and their taking, taking, taking. Everything she did was in the shadow of this ever looming threat that was inching closer.

Her mother tried to keep Äyäan's life running smoothly. Taught her to weave, dyeing silks until they were both mottled purple and green to their elbows. Äyäan learned to hunt with Kitangi, even though her longbow was 'too unweildy' for someone who is, in most things, a detail oriented perfectionist. But still she went and bonded with her Kilvansi so she could go out and gather her own materials.

But slowly, the plants near her favourite spot were growing sickly and brittle. Sky People and their ships encroaching on Äyäan's little paradise. But still, ever stubborn, she kept coming back until they spotted her and Kilvansi and decided that the pair were threats. While Äyäan's shot calf healed better than she could have hoped, Kilvansi's handful of wounds and punctured wings got infected. Äyäan fed him when he couldn't fly, but the infection killed him and it destroyed her.

For a while Äyäan suffered deep guilt for Kilvansi's death. He had trusted her until his last breath, and she took him out close to the ships knowing that the pollution was still gnawing at her hideaway. Did Eywa not save him because they both had been touched by the Sky People's metal? She didn't want to, would Eywa forgive her for this?

She becomes something of a homebody after that. Without an ikran she doesn't wander far from the shadow of the Aranahe's Hometree. That, and the anxiety that comes with it. Her days are spent crushing pigments, spinning and dyeing silks, weaving and sewing what she can from her slim pickings and other's scraps.

Nämaw was always... a handful. A loud presence, since the day she was born. Medically fragile, with a heart that never quite beat as it should and dizzy spells growing up confined her to the shallows.

Almost in spite of this, Nämaw took every opportunity to do as much as she could. Go out beyond the reef and the clutches of her ever-stressed mother, clambering further inland to climb trees until the horizom was a long, uninterrupted line.

Her tulkun brother, Tanhìnìn, is her complement. He's not scared, but he knows what he likes, and what he likes is what is safe. He is one to ask before running off, unlike Nämaw who has spent more than one occasion as the subject of a search party. But, since they only get together when the tulkun return from their migration, he can get away with some (safe) mischief with his spirit sister. And while she ensures he isn't always in the shadows of his elders, Tanhìnìn ensures that Nämaw doesn't go so far as to hurt herself. His name means 'stargazer' due to his tendency to keep close to the surface and his late, late nights.

While Nämaw's general demeanor is loud and constantly pushing the joke just a little too far, the one thing she takes seriously is her apprenticeship. Due to her fussy heart, she isn't the one going on patrols or the big, demanding hunts. She can hunt, and helps haul nets and cook, but when things get hard or scary she's ushered to the side.

Her mentor is an old warrior, whose hands were beginning to ache and shake after a bad arm and shoulder injury in a hunt. From him, Nämaw learned the languages of their tattoos, of how they are earned, and how to make those dark marks. Her days, for the most part, are making the ink and maintaining the thin quills used as needles, practicing on ilu skins, on Tanhìnìn, on her own hips and thighs - mindless designs that she didn't earn for anything but documenting her learning process

Besides Teylan, Zefem'te was the youngest survivor of TAP with no memories of a life before. She used to adore listening to Aha'ri and Nor recount what little they remembered, and picked up humming that Sarentu song to herself - an action that remains subconscious and comforting habit.

She was a very reserved child, even amongst the other Sarentu. She firmly believed if they stayed quiet and small enough, Alma wouldn't call on them and Mercer would forget she existed. TAP impacts her a lot more than they're likely to admit. Even now she still has nightmares about the cramped bunks that were just too short for their grown bodies, and after 16 years of cryostasis she tends to be unable to fall asleep without being splayed out and warm.

With the Resistance, I have two variations of them. One, obviously, where she takes on Tamtey's role, Death on Wings, all that main character trauma she gets as the one I play AFOP as.

But for the sake of shared AUs, when they aren't Tamtey, she kind of inserts herself into a kind of sidekick role. She follows in Tamtey's footsteps. Follows them to the Aranahe, the Zeswa, the Kame'tire. Unlike Tamtey, Zefem'te gets Ka'nat's permission before she climbs the Rookery and bonds with Niuna (and, to an extent, Itu. Pushing them off a cliff set back her mental timeline just a tad for she sheer terror he caused.)

While as a child she had been so hell bent on being small, that shifts as she grows and tries to find her place in Pandora. Zefem'te almost never says no to any errand, any favour, any ask someone has of her she dedicates her all to. Anything from gathering fibres to freeing trapped animals. Finding runaway children to taking down RDA Samsons and balloons. Someone ought to tell her that she doesn't need to earn her place among the Na'vi, but growing up so disconnected makes it hard to take up any space without it being to serve someone else.

That said, she is incredibly attentive, even when she doesn't have to be. They want to learn everything about everything. Her appearance, over time, becomes a total mash of various clans styles. Her hair in structured Zeswa braids tagged with bright orange, red, and yellow feathers, tops of Aranahe weaving styles, and jewellery in the Kame'tire fashioned from carved wood and resin. They also retain a lot of what is told to her, and tend to infer even more. While she has high empathy, her efforts to comfort and assist may be read as overbearing by some.