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࿔ Pairing: Aonung x Fem Mangkwan Tsakarem OC
࿔ Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity
࿔ Tags: angst, grief, eventual romance, eventual smut, graphic descriptions of violence, enemies, hatred, mature content, trauma, burden of duty, comfort person
~ 4.8k words
a/n: PROTECTIVE AONUNG!!!! ikari gets to show aonung her healing skills and has some very much needed paternal bonding
""You paint yourself white and fill yourself up
with noise but there’ll be something missing."
- Nude, Radiohead
Aonung doesn't feel the least bit satisfied as his fist cracks into bone. Again. Even when he draws his knuckles back and finds two of them split, he doesn't have the slightest desire to stop. He doesn't know if that's his blood or the flailing boy beneath him, but he just wipes it off on Nashvi's face and wrinkles his nose in disgust.
"Did I not say she has uturu?" he growls, fingers curling in his hair and dragging his neck to an uncomfortable angle. "Does that not mean she has protection?"
"Aonung," Ongu groans across the sand. He'd already been dealt with, or so he thought, but now the idiot seems to think he's brave enough to speak again.
"Shut up," Lo'ak growls, prodding the purple bruise on his stomach with his toe. They hadn't delivered that one, and he smiles to himself at the sight Ikari had at least put up a vicious fight. "Do you want another split in your lip?"
"We were just teaching her a lesson," Koro whines. "You know she doesn't belong here."
"Were you instructed to teach her?" Aonung rounds on the other boy, slamming Nashvi to the sand again and reaching for Koro's kuru. "I don't fucking think so."
"What does it matter to you?" he makes some weird, fishy pouting face. "What happened to our friend who knew how to protect us? You can't be serious that you want to hang out with babytails and brush hands with that fire spreader."
"Watch it," Lo'ak's eyes narrow. "Are you seriously still testing us?"
"I grew up," Aonung says simply. "Something that cannot be said for you vonvä’s."
Koro hisses, then winces as a strike hits him across the cheek.
"Why do you even care? She's just a pretty little bitch. She's never going to help our people."
He thinks words might even be beyond him at this point. His vision is blurring out like watercolour in the corners, colours bleeding together and in the centre he can only see the blood trickling down into Koro's snarled mouth.
"Oh," the skxawng breathes, some stupid victory crossing his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you care about her."
"What?" Aonung spits dangerously.
"Eywa," Koro laughs, more blood bubbling in the gross corner of his mouth. "You care because she's hurt. Don't tell me she's that weak, she had to go run to her little prince to give us our slap on the wrists."
"You don't know anything."
"Oh yeah? I've seen the way she looks at you. Everyone has. You're not slick, Aonung. Always hidden in some corner of the reef, always trying not to look at each other, always pretending that you're warm enough to not care that she's anything but a sick, un-na'vi freak."
Aonung's fist finds nose, breaking it for a second time that day. The boy yowls beneath him and he goes in for another hit, splitting his lip clean open. Again.
"Stop!" Ongu shouts, writhing under Lo'ak. "Are you seriously striking your own people to defend a demon?"
"This has nothing to do with her," Aonung growls. "This is about your loyalty to the clan. To me. She has uturu, she is under our protection. And if you touch her again, may Eywa have the strength to stop me from killing you."
Ongu chokes. Koro stops yowling. Even Lo'ak looks up in surprise.
"Is that understood?"
"A- Aonung?"
"I said, is that understood?"
"Aonung," Lo'ak frowns, as his hold tightens around Ongu's kuru. He'd never been good at the whole moderation thing anyway.
"Yes," the boy chokes, eyes so wide he can see his whole face glowing in them. "Yes, Aonung."
He doesn't let go. He just continues watching the kurkung's pupils dilate in terror, the dark red half-sticking his lips together. He likes that; the shake of bones under his grip.
"Come on bro," Lo'ak places a hand on his shoulder. "We're done here."
He doesn't want to be. He really doesn't want that to be the last time bone crunches as his fist meets flesh. But Lo'ak is strong, and he trusts his friend enough to let him drag Aonung up off Ongu. They stare down at the three boys in disgust, watching them writhe to stand and flee like little yoten.
"Okay, that was..." Lo'ak exhales lowly, "... something."
Aonung doesn't reply. He just watches the impression of the sand beneath them. It's hardly an outline, more like a gouged mess of thrashing tails and kicking legs. He shifts his foot a little to the right and finds several dark pearls of blood, dull and hardened, blinking back at him.
"Let's go back."
"You go," Aonung shrugs him off. "I'm going for a walk."
"A walk?" his friend frowns. "Now?"
"Yes," he replies dully. "I'll see you back at the village."
He doesn't wait for Lo'ak to reply. He just turns and treks out along the sand, his back to the village and the forest boy and the hobbling pricks in the distance.
Tsireya isn't in the Tsahik's hut when he returns after sunset. That's just as well, he doesn't want to see her holding back her tears. She had always been emotional at the best of times, but these days... well, he was glad she had Lo'ak now. It had been hard enough to look in her face when she left.
This was hardly the first time he's come here with split knuckles or a scraped cheek; admonishments for fighting were one of the most common interactions he'd had as a child. But now there was no mother to grit her rage back to patch him up.
There's just the slumped figure of Ikari on the mat. It takes him several panicked moments to realise she's only sleeping.
He groans in relief and rubs a hand down his face. It comes back bloody.
She had come back bloody too. Bruised. Green and purple had mottled her skin, her wrists and ankles rubbed to an angry indigo. They had held her so viciously the ash had been scraped from her skin where they touched, and that raw absence of paint was flushed so deeply she wasn't her natural colour there. Her lip had been bleeding. He knew when he brushed his neck and drew his fingers back red.
She stirs a little on the mat.
She enfolds in his mind so easily, just waiting at the edge for when he lets himself find her. She's sad tonight. She's broken. Her face curves so easily into his neck. Her body melts into him, so light, so perfectly moulded to his own. He wraps around her, holding her together as she starts to shake. She's cold all over, none of her steady heat comes from her touch now. He can smell the salt and ash on her skin. He can feel the burning wet of tears sliding onto his shoulder. Her hair is the perfect place for him to bury his cheek.
She lets out a low moan in her sleep and brings him back to the present her. The one who isn't curled into him, who isn't sobbing, who doesn't need him.
Aonung steps lightly around her and gazes around the dark marui. He should probably put something on his injuries. Even though they're not bad, it'd probably look best when his father ultimately comes to kill him. He goes through all the boxes, finding only stacks of herbs and powders. Frustrated, he grabs a few at random and starts grinding them in a stone basin.
"What are you doing?" a sleepy mumble comes from behind him.
He jumps halfway out of his skin. Ikari's curled on her side, head pillowed on her arms, watching him.
"I'm fixing something up," he replies.
In the dark, he can see her brows furrow as she takes in the scrape across his cheekbone. "What did you do?"
He can't help smiling at her knowing grimace.
"Oh god." And then she smiles too, biting it back between her teeth. "Tell me you didn't."
"I didn't," he shrugs.
"Skxawng," she sits up. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to though. They were asking for it."
"I won't argue with you there," Ikari's gaze roves over his face. "But what the hell is that."
"Salve."
"No," she raises her brows incredulously. "Whatever that is, it's not going to do anything to help with your cuts."
"Isn't everything in here supposed to heal?"
"There's a reason you're not going to be Tsahik," she shakes her head. "Give that to me. Yalna bark stings less, and this - why did you think it would be a good idea to grind paywll and yìspul together? They oxidize when combined and will leave you with chemical burns, idiot."
"Oh," he gladly passes her the bowl. "Yeah, you can take that."
"Find me koaktutra," Ikari instructs, waving him up off the ground.
"Uh- what?"
"Koaktutra," she repeats slowly, rolling her eyes at him. "Fungus on long green thistles. I need it for your bruises."
It takes him a while to find it in all the boxes, and several times he brings her the wrong thing. She just stares at him until he finally gets it right. She works while he searches, and by the time she finally accepts his offering, she's formed a new paste with the yalna bark and heated it above her lit fire.
"Come here," she gestures for him to sit in front of her. "I will put this on the tender flesh to stop it bruising."
Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she peels the skin from the koaktutra and presses the inner gel to his face.
"You seem to know a lot about this," Aonung says to fill the silence. "Healing."
"There were often injuries in the clan," Ikari offers. "My training required a broad proficiency at all Mangkwan customs. Healing was one of the more delicate ones."
Her fingers brush over his cheek.
"Will you finally tell me what you were?"
"Maybe. Why should I?"
"Seeing as I saved your life today?"
"I could argue I saved you too," she knocks his shoulder. "Could have let those stings hallucinate you to death."
"Nah, you'd miss me," he grins. "We'd both die in that hollow, then."
A heartbeat of silence passes again. It seems like forever ago that they'd been trapped there together. Really, it had only been hours between Aonung's shoulder harbouring her lips and her tears.
"Decent way to go," he dares to joke. "So long as you still get to heal me."
He laughs as she swats at his shoulder. He stops laughing when her hand curves around his face and holds him still. Her touch moves to his lip.
"About the other day," he says, once she pulls away again, "by the rocks-"
"Don't," Ikari shakes her head. "I was out of line. I should have never talked about your people like that."
"I can't really blame you now," Aonung grimaces, looking at the purple grip-marks on her wrists and ankles. "I never would have thought they'd actually try to hurt you. Those guys are usually total cowards, but I guess if it was five against one..."
"Any less and I would have had them for sure," she rolls her eyes playfully. "But for speaking about your family as I did, I am sorry."
"No," he shakes his head. "I should have not have pushed you so hard. What I said-" You are the broken one. He had told her she was broken. What a stupid idiot. "-it was beyond rude."
Her lips curve into a smile. "I have heard worse."
"Worse?"
"Mhm," she nods. "Apparently I am a godless, fire-spreading, smoke-breathing demon."
"Sounds pretty baddass to me."
Aonung subconsciously licks the paste from the corner of his lips and she grumbles something about re-application.
Ikari's tail lashes anxiously behind her as she walks back through the village. Everyone had heard of the incident by now, and it turns out Aonung punching the skxawngs hadn't skyrocketed her popularity any more. Instead of eyes following her with careless hate, gazes avert as she passes. At least the Metkayina felt some shame, though she suspected it may have something more to do with the way Lo'ak, Tsireya and Aonung are crowded protectively around her than their greater consciences.
When they arrive at dinner, everyone else is there.
"Ikari!" Kiri stands and rushes over. "Oh, thank Eywa you are alright. I heard what happened."
"Everyone did," Tuk pipes up, lifting her wrists and gasping when she sees the bruises.
"Great," Ikari grimaces.
Tonowari frowns from his seat beside Jake Sully. His gaze burns on her skin, and she pulls free of Tuk's little grip.
"Olo'eyktan, I apologise. I did not mean to disturb the clan-"
"Stop that," Aonung frowns. "You didn't do anything."
"Aonung," Tonowari holds up his hands. His son's gaze rounds on him, indignant. "Today was a day of shame for our clan. A weak display of believed strength."
"Those guys were bullies!" Lo'ak interjects, much to Jake's annoyance. "They tried to-"
"Lo'ak," Jake warns.
"It's fine," Ikari steps away from the shelter of her friends. "I am the reason for this division. The blame rests with my presence here."
Tonowari's gaze softens a little. She curls her tail around her ankles, not wanting her bruises to show. Too late, her cheek and stomach as still purple enough to flush beneath her ash. Her lip is still split too.
"You were not to cause any trouble," the Olo'eyktan frowns. "Yet today, you entered an altercation with our own, and the result was my son turning his hands on our people."
"They tried to drown her," Aonung scowls. "They betrayed your order of Uturu. They went against my explicit will. They have no respect for strength in this clan, so I took it upon myself to show it."
"Strength does not equal physicality," Tonowari turns back to his son. "You conformed to their brutish tactics."
Aonung lets his gaze drop, though Ikari can see his eyes burning through the floor.
"But," Tonowari exhales, "you stayed true to your vow to watch the outsider. You have grown, son."
She catches Tsireya smiling at her brother.
"As for you," Ikari straightens as she returns to focus, "I must also offer my apologise for our people. The harm that was brought upon you today was unacceptable. You have my word that it will not be taken lightly."
"Thank you, Olo'eyktan," she bows her head.
She can feel Neytiri's eyes on her as she shifts back to take Tuk's reaching hand again.
"Come," the little girl smiles. "You must be hungry."
"Starving," she returns her grin.
Dinner is lively tonight. She sits between Kiri and Lo'ak, and Tuk curls against her knees. Kiri and Tsireya fuss over Ikari, while Spider and Lo'ak are on their usual bullshit talking about Koro, Ongu, and Nashvi.
"- and then I go, "It's called a punch, bitch!" and down he goes. Then the others are on me, and Neteyam has to come in as well."
"Yeah, Neteyam always knew how to get a good hit in. No wonder Aonung trained harder after that."
"Shut up," Aonung rolls his eyes, "I got them good today."
"Yeah," Lo'ak laughs. "Yes you did."
"How?" Spider asks eagerly. "I can't believe you didn't get me."
"You would have been squashed flat," Kiri chuckles. "I wouldn't want to be in the way of that, it was messy enough the first time when we came to the reef. I doubt today was any better."
"Oh today was worse," Lo'ak grins. "So much worse. I thought Aonung was going to yank Nashvi's hair straight off. Sorry sir," he adds, as Tonowari shoots him an unimpressed look from the other end of the table.
"I reckon if Ikari'd been there, he would already be bald," Tuk pipes up.
"Me?" she lets out a surprised laugh.
"You're a good fighter," Lo'ak agrees. "I heard the other warriors talking about it the other day. They were impressed."
"Didn't seem too impressed to me, given that those skxawngs were the first Metkayina to try and talk to me."
"They're all just nervous," Tsireya rolls her eyes. "Half of them have gotten over you being Mangkwan, believe me."
"Then what is it?"
"Hm, I wonder," Lo'ak pretends to ponder. "What could possibly make these people nervous that a terrifying, beautiful stranger is walking around shaking things up around here?"
"They hate me."
Her gaze flicks to Aonung, who's become very interested in his fish.
"Not really. They're scared, sure, but not for the reasons you think. I mean, five against one, and they walked away with two broken noses, a twisted ankle, a sprained wrist and way too many bruises. I counted." Tsireya smiles a little. "I had to check all of them. For the first time, and then they didn't even bother coming back after Aonung found them."
"So they're scared of fighting me?" Ikari raises her brows. "That's a pretty avoidable issue."
"And now, they're totally fascinated by you."
She laughs.
"As if."
"I'm telling you," Lo'ak shrugs. "Walk around the village tomorrow and see for yourself. Just ask Aonung."
She glances over at the Metkayina man. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and when his eyes meet hers he searches them for that unspoken thing. She raises her brows. He wrinkles his nose. She smiles a little. His lips pull further down into a frown.
"What is this?" Tuk writhes in Ikari's lap to look at her face. "Why are you just silently staring at each other? Is this like sign language, because I just got the hang of finger talk and if I have to learn another-"
"I'm sure they'll be interested now," Aonung says lowly, ignoring the others' amused glances. "They like new things."
"Only when they do something interesting, apparently," Ikari frowns. "All I had to do was drown to get people to stop despising me?"
"Now you can make friends," he swallows.
She squints at him. Why does he look so dull now? He looks away when she tilts her head to him.
Oh well.
She tilts her head back against the marui wall and lets Tuk's head curl into her stomach. The girl doesn't mention her scars, but her fingers come up and brush them curiously. She guesses that her family had warned her not to ask about them. Her own hand falls to the girl's hair, raking gently between the little braids.
She can feel the eyes on her as she lets her own close, warmed by the gentle chatter and the softness of the child resting on her. Somewhere between Neytiri's careful gaze, Kiri's kind one, and Aonung's burning one, she lets it all slip away.
Ikari is surprised to wake while it is still dark. She lifts her head with a groan, finding no hard floor beneath her tonight. But when she glances beside her, there is no Aonung. There's no familiar view of the distant rockpools; this marui looks straight out to the horizon.
She must have fallen asleep at dinner, and everyone had let her rest.
Rubbing the ache from her eyes, she realises she is not alone in her consciousness. Haloed against the night and watching the dying fire, she can see Tonowari.
Engaging with the Olo'eyktan as the whole tribe rests, after falling asleep in his home, was not something she was particularly eager to do. But some odd sense has her shifting up off of the wall and moving quietly over to the fire.
"You are awake," he notes.
"I did not mean to fall asleep here," she offers awkwardly. She wasn't an awkward person, and the sudden unease she's feeling is very uncomfortable. "I did not mean to intrude upon your hospitality."
The corners of his lips twitch. Right. She'd crossed that border when she punched one of his Metkayina in the face. "No. Today has been trying for you, Mangkwan."
She nods her appreciation. A few moments pass where they both watch the last flame, dancing between the small logs. It leaves charred kisses along the wood it touches.
"It is a fine thing," Tonowari murmurs. "The fire. It is beautiful."
"Yes," Ikari breathes. "To us, it is the only pure thing in the world."
"Why?"
It is a simple question. Neither curious nor a challenge. Just some offering for her to share something of her own.
She looks up to the gaze of the Olo'eyktan. In it, she finds something gentle, kind, even. He does not seek her harm. She looks back down to the fire, then reaches out to let the flame dance out and curl across her nails.
"It removes pretence," she pulls her hand back and studies the burnished glow at her fingertips. "It does not judge or negotiate or compromise. It consumes only burns, and spares what is strong enough to survive."
Tonowari watches her carry the flames. His brow is set hard, though his concern ebbs away as she shows no sign of scorching.
"It makes things equal. Status, intention, corruption, and innocence all burn."
"Your people do not seek safety." Not a question, not a statement. Again, he just offers something for her to pick up.
"When you lose everything as my people have, you learn to accept the volatility of life," Ikari replies. "Safety, stability, reason, morality; these are the concepts of idealists. We cannot afford such luxuries."
He seems to accept that. He finally frowns at her hands. "You do not burn?"
"I learn to contain," she corrects. "I have had to learn the way of the fire, Olo'eyktan. Pain is fleeting. Strength is sustainable, when nurtured."
"You do not need to ache to be strong," Tonowari murmurs.
"It is the way I know how," Ikari wiggles her fingers to allow more oxygen to pass through the flames. "Your son has told me the same thing. I am learning... to soften."
He tilts his head to her.
"How is Aonung?"
"Aonung?" She closes her hands and extinguishes the light against her palm. "He is a good teacher. Patient. Willing to explain. He pushes me, but waits for my recovery before trying again. It is more measured than I am used to."
"My son?" Tonowari nearly laughs.
"Would you not describe him as such?"
"No," he smiles. "I know this about him, but for a long time he found it very hard to do these decent things. The Sullys were a struggle for him to accept outsiders in the reef, but now... well, it brings me peace to know you do not think he is painful."
"What was he like?" she asks curiously. "Before?"
"He was believed strength must always be shown. He had confidence, though I worried for arrogance and impulsiveness. His pride came from love for the Metkayina, but his immaturity and sharp temper often led him to act before he listens, and that is the lesson he had to learn if he is to lead well."
"He will be a good leader," Ikari offers measuredly. "I may not know how to have an Olo'eyktan who values respect or tradition, but from what I know of him, I am sure he holds deep care for your people and your home."
Tonowari blinks. He looks surprised to hear her words, and hesitates before his next sentence.
"I worry for him."
That sits between them for a moment.
"Why?"
"He should not have had to grow up this fast," Tonowari glances over at the slumbering forms of his children. She hadn't even realised he was there, tucked away in the corner by Pril. "There should be no harm in the reef. Everything should be natural, all death inevitable but steady. He should not have to learn to lead when our people are slaughtered. I do not want him to take up the mantle of a broken clan."
Ikari mulls that over in her mind. She and him were quite similar, after all. They carried the same burdens.
"I never knew that life," she says quietly. "Each day was a struggle, a lesson. From birth, there is no patience for us to grow up. We must simply be grown. And if I could offer a different life to the next children, to allow them light and life, to play and laugh and love, I would do so in a heartbeat. Growing up with danger and loss teaches you to be vigilant and strong, but children should not have to be such things. I am sorry the same fate has been passed to you now."
Tonowari blinks. It's hard to see his expression in the dying glow of the fire. She watches his eyes fall to the absence of light on her skin.
"You are a strong woman. We need strength in these times." He pauses to grimace at her. "I must ask another thing of you."
"Yes?"
"Aonung carries more than he should, and he won’t admit when the weight is too much. He will push himself until he breaks if someone doesn’t remind him he doesn’t have to be strong alone. He thinks responsibility means bodying everything alone.” Tonowari frowns a little as he says his next part. “I thought our clan needed insulation to stay safe. But he is our future, and now I see he needs someone beside him who won’t let him break under it all."
They both look across the marui to where he sleeps. She can only make out the muscles of his back and a few dark curls in the shadows.
"Olo'eyktan," Ikari blinks, "I understand this in him. I give you my word, I will not let it harm him."
He exhales, letting his palms unfold in his lap.
Your parents must be proud."
She hesitates.
"I would not know."
He doesn't pry, which she appreciates. He just offers her a nod of condolence. She appreciates that, too.
"Your people, then."
"The Mangkwan are not like Metkayina. We do not have this... community."
Her tail curls around her. The Olo'eyktan watches her carefully, and she thinks she sees that little swimming shadow of pity pass through his gaze.
"I see," he murmurs. "Then, for now, I will be proud for you."
The words catch her off guard. Ikari doesn’t know what to do with them, so she simply inclines her head in acknowledgement.
They sit in silence after that, the fire finally collapsing into embers. When the heat fades, Tonowari rises, careful not to wake the others.
“You should rest,” he says. “Tomorrow will ask much of you.”
She nods and returns to her place against the wall, lying back down where the sea breeze can reach her. As she closes her eyes, she feels something unfamiliar settle in her chest; not safety, exactly, but the faintest sense of being seen.
By the time sleep takes her again, the fire is gone, and the horizon has begun to pale.
I think this is my favorite character so far!!!!!!!🫶🫶
"There's a reason you're not going to be Tsahik," she shakes her head. "Give that to me. Yalna bark stings less, and this - why did you think it would be a good idea to grind paywll and yìspul together? They oxidize when combined and will leave you with chemical burns, idiot."
"Oh," he gladly passes her the bowl. "Yeah, you can take that.”
I don't know what but this was so funny to me, he's such a dumbass, I love him
"What is this?" Tuk writhes in Ikari's lap to look at her face. "Why are you just silently staring at each other? Is this like sign language, because I just got the hang of finger talk and if I have to learn another-"
Sweet baby Tuk 🥺
She tilts her head back against the marui wall and lets Tuk's head curl into her stomach. The girl doesn't mention her scars, but her fingers come up and brush them curiously. She guesses that her family had warned her not to ask about them. Her own hand falls to the girl's hair, raking gently between the little braids.
Lo'ak x fem!na'vi reader
phone sex, implied relationship, distance, fluff
"Come on, baby," Lo'ak grunts, fingers closing again over the button of his comms. "I know you can hear me."
"Mhm," you whisper, glancing around to make sure no one can hear you in the forest around you.
"Miss you," he groans through the line. "Wish you were here with me. Patrol's so boring today."
"You'll be home soon enough, it's almost eclipse. But I miss you too, Lo."
"Oh yeah? 'Cause I was thinking, maybe we could have some fun while I'm out here alone, thinking of you."
"What... what sort of fun?" you ask, ignoring the little smirk pulling at your lips. You've played these games before, you know the sound of his hand sliding over his tewng, or the sharp inhale as he finds some relief against his palm.
"Tell me about your day. Everything, so we don't waste any time when I get back."
"Let's see," you can't help smiling now when you feel his ears prick at the sound of your voice. "I helped Kiri find some herbs this morning, then I showed Tuk how to bead that spiral pattern she liked on my top. And I took some yerik jerky to your mother."
"Good," he grunts. "My family love having you visit."
"What else?" you muse to yourself, biting back a giggle at the background noise of his hand roving beneath the fabric now. "Oh right, I spent the whole day dreaming of you."
"Oh?"
"Mhm," you let all the honey you can muster drip into your voice.
"Wha- What were you thinking of?"
You know that husky exhale only too well. You can practically see him hunched over some tree, his head pressed hard against the wood, flushed purple in the cheeks as he loses his control and wraps a hand around the aching length of his cock.
"You. Your eyes, your voice, your hands. The way you look at me when there are others around, like we're the only two people who know each other, like all the secrets we share- our words, our bodies -are something so sacred everyone else is pathetic for not knowing them."
Warmth pools in your stomach as you hear the groan through your comms.
"Yeah?" Lo'ak fights to still his voice.
You can't help smiling; after all this time, your boy must not know you well enough if he thinks you don't know what he's doing.
"Yeah," you mimic softly. "And I think about the end of the day when you come home, and you hold me in your arms and you kiss me. When you have that wild look in your eyes and I know I have five seconds to drop whatever I'm doing. When I'm breaths away from tasting you on my lips again, and I can feel just how much you love me."
"So much," he groans, not doing an admirable job of hiding that choked hunger. "Love you so much baby."
"I love you too. Even though you're terrible of keeping your voice steady."
You half-expect him to stammer something abashed at being caught doing something so lewd. You aren't prepared to hear a low, breathy chuckle.
"Guess not," he shrugs. "Keep talking then."
"How do you feel?" you ask, feeling a little shyer now you don't hold his secrets.
"Hot. I wish you were here. I wish this was your hands instead- no. I wish it was your mouth."
The warmth heats in your blood. You feel your heart pick up a little.
"Wish I could feel your tongue all over me- so smooth, so hot. Wish I could hear you choking my name as I fuck your throat."
"Lo'ak," you breathe, "that's- that's so dirty."
"Dirty? I want to watch your pretty little eyes weeping around me as you can't breathe around me."
"Stop," you shake your head, burning desire coiling up inside you. "Don't say things you can't do to me right now."
Through the comms, you hear that familiar groan of release followed by several heavy breaths. And then the distant beeping of an alarm blares through the line.
End of his shift.
"Lo'ak?"
"Two."
"What?"
"Give me two minutes. Then I promise you, I'll tell you everything I'm going to do to you."
Oh my gosh… I haven’t posted on here in a while but I’m just now noticing this parallel between Lo’ak and Payakan. This edit put it SO MUCH MORE into perspective for me, and I had to share it here. No wonder they’re spirit brothers, they’re both so misunderstood.
Lo'ak x fem!na'vi reader
phone sex, implied relationship, distance, fluff
"Come on, baby," Lo'ak grunts, fingers closing again over the button of his comms. "I know you can hear me."
"Mhm," you whisper, glancing around to make sure no one can hear you in the forest around you.
"Miss you," he groans through the line. "Wish you were here with me. Patrol's so boring today."
"You'll be home soon enough, it's almost eclipse. But I miss you too, Lo."
"Oh yeah? 'Cause I was thinking, maybe we could have some fun while I'm out here alone, thinking of you."
"What... what sort of fun?" you ask, ignoring the little smirk pulling at your lips. You've played these games before, you know the sound of his hand sliding over his tewng, or the sharp inhale as he finds some relief against his palm.
"Tell me about your day. Everything, so we don't waste any time when I get back."
"Let's see," you can't help smiling now when you feel his ears prick at the sound of your voice. "I helped Kiri find some herbs this morning, then I showed Tuk how to bead that spiral pattern she liked on my top. And I took some yerik jerky to your mother."
"Good," he grunts. "My family love having you visit."
"What else?" you muse to yourself, biting back a giggle at the background noise of his hand roving beneath the fabric now. "Oh right, I spent the whole day dreaming of you."
"Oh?"
"Mhm," you let all the honey you can muster drip into your voice.
"Wha- What were you thinking of?"
You know that husky exhale only too well. You can practically see him hunched over some tree, his head pressed hard against the wood, flushed purple in the cheeks as he loses his control and wraps a hand around the aching length of his cock.
"You. Your eyes, your voice, your hands. The way you look at me when there are others around, like we're the only two people who know each other, like all the secrets we share- our words, our bodies -are something so sacred everyone else is pathetic for not knowing them."
Warmth pools in your stomach as you hear the groan through your comms.
"Yeah?" Lo'ak fights to still his voice.
You can't help smiling; after all this time, your boy must not know you well enough if he thinks you don't know what he's doing.
"Yeah," you mimic softly. "And I think about the end of the day when you come home, and you hold me in your arms and you kiss me. When you have that wild look in your eyes and I know I have five seconds to drop whatever I'm doing. When I'm breaths away from tasting you on my lips again, and I can feel just how much you love me."
"So much," he groans, not doing an admirable job of hiding that choked hunger. "Love you so much baby."
"I love you too. Even though you're terrible of keeping your voice steady."
You half-expect him to stammer something abashed at being caught doing something so lewd. You aren't prepared to hear a low, breathy chuckle.
"Guess not," he shrugs. "Keep talking then."
"How do you feel?" you ask, feeling a little shyer now you don't hold his secrets.
"Hot. I wish you were here. I wish this was your hands instead- no. I wish it was your mouth."
The warmth heats in your blood. You feel your heart pick up a little.
"Wish I could feel your tongue all over me- so smooth, so hot. Wish I could hear you choking my name as I fuck your throat."
"Lo'ak," you breathe, "that's- that's so dirty."
"Dirty? I want to watch your pretty little eyes weeping around me as you can't breathe around me."
"Stop," you shake your head, burning desire coiling up inside you. "Don't say things you can't do to me right now."
Through the comms, you hear that familiar groan of release followed by several heavy breaths. And then the distant beeping of an alarm blares through the line.
End of his shift.
"Lo'ak?"
"Two."
"What?"
"Give me two minutes. Then I promise you, I'll tell you everything I'm going to do to you."
࿔ Pairing: Aonung x Fem Mangkwan Tsakarem OC
࿔ Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity
࿔ Tags: angst, grief, eventual romance, eventual smut, graphic descriptions of violence, enemies, hatred, mature content, trauma, burden of duty, comfort person
~ 4.8k words
a/n: PROTECTIVE AONUNG!!!! ikari gets to show aonung her healing skills and has some very much needed paternal bonding
""You paint yourself white and fill yourself up
with noise but there’ll be something missing."
- Nude, Radiohead
Aonung doesn't feel the least bit satisfied as his fist cracks into bone. Again. Even when he draws his knuckles back and finds two of them split, he doesn't have the slightest desire to stop. He doesn't know if that's his blood or the flailing boy beneath him, but he just wipes it off on Nashvi's face and wrinkles his nose in disgust.
"Did I not say she has uturu?" he growls, fingers curling in his hair and dragging his neck to an uncomfortable angle. "Does that not mean she has protection?"
"Aonung," Ongu groans across the sand. He'd already been dealt with, or so he thought, but now the idiot seems to think he's brave enough to speak again.
"Shut up," Lo'ak growls, prodding the purple bruise on his stomach with his toe. They hadn't delivered that one, and he smiles to himself at the sight Ikari had at least put up a vicious fight. "Do you want another split in your lip?"
"We were just teaching her a lesson," Koro whines. "You know she doesn't belong here."
"Were you instructed to teach her?" Aonung rounds on the other boy, slamming Nashvi to the sand again and reaching for Koro's kuru. "I don't fucking think so."
"What does it matter to you?" he makes some weird, fishy pouting face. "What happened to our friend who knew how to protect us? You can't be serious that you want to hang out with babytails and brush hands with that fire spreader."
"Watch it," Lo'ak's eyes narrow. "Are you seriously still testing us?"
"I grew up," Aonung says simply. "Something that cannot be said for you vonvä’s."
Koro hisses, then winces as a strike hits him across the cheek.
"Why do you even care? She's just a pretty little bitch. She's never going to help our people."
He thinks words might even be beyond him at this point. His vision is blurring out like watercolour in the corners, colours bleeding together and in the centre he can only see the blood trickling down into Koro's snarled mouth.
"Oh," the skxawng breathes, some stupid victory crossing his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you care about her."
"What?" Aonung spits dangerously.
"Eywa," Koro laughs, more blood bubbling in the gross corner of his mouth. "You care because she's hurt. Don't tell me she's that weak, she had to go run to her little prince to give us our slap on the wrists."
"You don't know anything."
"Oh yeah? I've seen the way she looks at you. Everyone has. You're not slick, Aonung. Always hidden in some corner of the reef, always trying not to look at each other, always pretending that you're warm enough to not care that she's anything but a sick, un-na'vi freak."
Aonung's fist finds nose, breaking it for a second time that day. The boy yowls beneath him and he goes in for another hit, splitting his lip clean open. Again.
"Stop!" Ongu shouts, writhing under Lo'ak. "Are you seriously striking your own people to defend a demon?"
"This has nothing to do with her," Aonung growls. "This is about your loyalty to the clan. To me. She has uturu, she is under our protection. And if you touch her again, may Eywa have the strength to stop me from killing you."
Ongu chokes. Koro stops yowling. Even Lo'ak looks up in surprise.
"Is that understood?"
"A- Aonung?"
"I said, is that understood?"
"Aonung," Lo'ak frowns, as his hold tightens around Ongu's kuru. He'd never been good at the whole moderation thing anyway.
"Yes," the boy chokes, eyes so wide he can see his whole face glowing in them. "Yes, Aonung."
He doesn't let go. He just continues watching the kurkung's pupils dilate in terror, the dark red half-sticking his lips together. He likes that; the shake of bones under his grip.
"Come on bro," Lo'ak places a hand on his shoulder. "We're done here."
He doesn't want to be. He really doesn't want that to be the last time bone crunches as his fist meets flesh. But Lo'ak is strong, and he trusts his friend enough to let him drag Aonung up off Ongu. They stare down at the three boys in disgust, watching them writhe to stand and flee like little yoten.
"Okay, that was..." Lo'ak exhales lowly, "... something."
Aonung doesn't reply. He just watches the impression of the sand beneath them. It's hardly an outline, more like a gouged mess of thrashing tails and kicking legs. He shifts his foot a little to the right and finds several dark pearls of blood, dull and hardened, blinking back at him.
"Let's go back."
"You go," Aonung shrugs him off. "I'm going for a walk."
"A walk?" his friend frowns. "Now?"
"Yes," he replies dully. "I'll see you back at the village."
He doesn't wait for Lo'ak to reply. He just turns and treks out along the sand, his back to the village and the forest boy and the hobbling pricks in the distance.
Tsireya isn't in the Tsahik's hut when he returns after sunset. That's just as well, he doesn't want to see her holding back her tears. She had always been emotional at the best of times, but these days... well, he was glad she had Lo'ak now. It had been hard enough to look in her face when she left.
This was hardly the first time he's come here with split knuckles or a scraped cheek; admonishments for fighting were one of the most common interactions he'd had as a child. But now there was no mother to grit her rage back to patch him up.
There's just the slumped figure of Ikari on the mat. It takes him several panicked moments to realise she's only sleeping.
He groans in relief and rubs a hand down his face. It comes back bloody.
She had come back bloody too. Bruised. Green and purple had mottled her skin, her wrists and ankles rubbed to an angry indigo. They had held her so viciously the ash had been scraped from her skin where they touched, and that raw absence of paint was flushed so deeply she wasn't her natural colour there. Her lip had been bleeding. He knew when he brushed his neck and drew his fingers back red.
She stirs a little on the mat.
She enfolds in his mind so easily, just waiting at the edge for when he lets himself find her. She's sad tonight. She's broken. Her face curves so easily into his neck. Her body melts into him, so light, so perfectly moulded to his own. He wraps around her, holding her together as she starts to shake. She's cold all over, none of her steady heat comes from her touch now. He can smell the salt and ash on her skin. He can feel the burning wet of tears sliding onto his shoulder. Her hair is the perfect place for him to bury his cheek.
She lets out a low moan in her sleep and brings him back to the present her. The one who isn't curled into him, who isn't sobbing, who doesn't need him.
Aonung steps lightly around her and gazes around the dark marui. He should probably put something on his injuries. Even though they're not bad, it'd probably look best when his father ultimately comes to kill him. He goes through all the boxes, finding only stacks of herbs and powders. Frustrated, he grabs a few at random and starts grinding them in a stone basin.
"What are you doing?" a sleepy mumble comes from behind him.
He jumps halfway out of his skin. Ikari's curled on her side, head pillowed on her arms, watching him.
"I'm fixing something up," he replies.
In the dark, he can see her brows furrow as she takes in the scrape across his cheekbone. "What did you do?"
He can't help smiling at her knowing grimace.
"Oh god." And then she smiles too, biting it back between her teeth. "Tell me you didn't."
"I didn't," he shrugs.
"Skxawng," she sits up. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to though. They were asking for it."
"I won't argue with you there," Ikari's gaze roves over his face. "But what the hell is that."
"Salve."
"No," she raises her brows incredulously. "Whatever that is, it's not going to do anything to help with your cuts."
"Isn't everything in here supposed to heal?"
"There's a reason you're not going to be Tsahik," she shakes her head. "Give that to me. Yalna bark stings less, and this - why did you think it would be a good idea to grind paywll and yìspul together? They oxidize when combined and will leave you with chemical burns, idiot."
"Oh," he gladly passes her the bowl. "Yeah, you can take that."
"Find me koaktutra," Ikari instructs, waving him up off the ground.
"Uh- what?"
"Koaktutra," she repeats slowly, rolling her eyes at him. "Fungus on long green thistles. I need it for your bruises."
It takes him a while to find it in all the boxes, and several times he brings her the wrong thing. She just stares at him until he finally gets it right. She works while he searches, and by the time she finally accepts his offering, she's formed a new paste with the yalna bark and heated it above her lit fire.
"Come here," she gestures for him to sit in front of her. "I will put this on the tender flesh to stop it bruising."
Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she peels the skin from the koaktutra and presses the inner gel to his face.
"You seem to know a lot about this," Aonung says to fill the silence. "Healing."
"There were often injuries in the clan," Ikari offers. "My training required a broad proficiency at all Mangkwan customs. Healing was one of the more delicate ones."
Her fingers brush over his cheek.
"Will you finally tell me what you were?"
"Maybe. Why should I?"
"Seeing as I saved your life today?"
"I could argue I saved you too," she knocks his shoulder. "Could have let those stings hallucinate you to death."
"Nah, you'd miss me," he grins. "We'd both die in that hollow, then."
A heartbeat of silence passes again. It seems like forever ago that they'd been trapped there together. Really, it had only been hours between Aonung's shoulder harbouring her lips and her tears.
"Decent way to go," he dares to joke. "So long as you still get to heal me."
He laughs as she swats at his shoulder. He stops laughing when her hand curves around his face and holds him still. Her touch moves to his lip.
"About the other day," he says, once she pulls away again, "by the rocks-"
"Don't," Ikari shakes her head. "I was out of line. I should have never talked about your people like that."
"I can't really blame you now," Aonung grimaces, looking at the purple grip-marks on her wrists and ankles. "I never would have thought they'd actually try to hurt you. Those guys are usually total cowards, but I guess if it was five against one..."
"Any less and I would have had them for sure," she rolls her eyes playfully. "But for speaking about your family as I did, I am sorry."
"No," he shakes his head. "I should have not have pushed you so hard. What I said-" You are the broken one. He had told her she was broken. What a stupid idiot. "-it was beyond rude."
Her lips curve into a smile. "I have heard worse."
"Worse?"
"Mhm," she nods. "Apparently I am a godless, fire-spreading, smoke-breathing demon."
"Sounds pretty baddass to me."
Aonung subconsciously licks the paste from the corner of his lips and she grumbles something about re-application.
Ikari's tail lashes anxiously behind her as she walks back through the village. Everyone had heard of the incident by now, and it turns out Aonung punching the skxawngs hadn't skyrocketed her popularity any more. Instead of eyes following her with careless hate, gazes avert as she passes. At least the Metkayina felt some shame, though she suspected it may have something more to do with the way Lo'ak, Tsireya and Aonung are crowded protectively around her than their greater consciences.
When they arrive at dinner, everyone else is there.
"Ikari!" Kiri stands and rushes over. "Oh, thank Eywa you are alright. I heard what happened."
"Everyone did," Tuk pipes up, lifting her wrists and gasping when she sees the bruises.
"Great," Ikari grimaces.
Tonowari frowns from his seat beside Jake Sully. His gaze burns on her skin, and she pulls free of Tuk's little grip.
"Olo'eyktan, I apologise. I did not mean to disturb the clan-"
"Stop that," Aonung frowns. "You didn't do anything."
"Aonung," Tonowari holds up his hands. His son's gaze rounds on him, indignant. "Today was a day of shame for our clan. A weak display of believed strength."
"Those guys were bullies!" Lo'ak interjects, much to Jake's annoyance. "They tried to-"
"Lo'ak," Jake warns.
"It's fine," Ikari steps away from the shelter of her friends. "I am the reason for this division. The blame rests with my presence here."
Tonowari's gaze softens a little. She curls her tail around her ankles, not wanting her bruises to show. Too late, her cheek and stomach as still purple enough to flush beneath her ash. Her lip is still split too.
"You were not to cause any trouble," the Olo'eyktan frowns. "Yet today, you entered an altercation with our own, and the result was my son turning his hands on our people."
"They tried to drown her," Aonung scowls. "They betrayed your order of Uturu. They went against my explicit will. They have no respect for strength in this clan, so I took it upon myself to show it."
"Strength does not equal physicality," Tonowari turns back to his son. "You conformed to their brutish tactics."
Aonung lets his gaze drop, though Ikari can see his eyes burning through the floor.
"But," Tonowari exhales, "you stayed true to your vow to watch the outsider. You have grown, son."
She catches Tsireya smiling at her brother.
"As for you," Ikari straightens as she returns to focus, "I must also offer my apologise for our people. The harm that was brought upon you today was unacceptable. You have my word that it will not be taken lightly."
"Thank you, Olo'eyktan," she bows her head.
She can feel Neytiri's eyes on her as she shifts back to take Tuk's reaching hand again.
"Come," the little girl smiles. "You must be hungry."
"Starving," she returns her grin.
Dinner is lively tonight. She sits between Kiri and Lo'ak, and Tuk curls against her knees. Kiri and Tsireya fuss over Ikari, while Spider and Lo'ak are on their usual bullshit talking about Koro, Ongu, and Nashvi.
"- and then I go, "It's called a punch, bitch!" and down he goes. Then the others are on me, and Neteyam has to come in as well."
"Yeah, Neteyam always knew how to get a good hit in. No wonder Aonung trained harder after that."
"Shut up," Aonung rolls his eyes, "I got them good today."
"Yeah," Lo'ak laughs. "Yes you did."
"How?" Spider asks eagerly. "I can't believe you didn't get me."
"You would have been squashed flat," Kiri chuckles. "I wouldn't want to be in the way of that, it was messy enough the first time when we came to the reef. I doubt today was any better."
"Oh today was worse," Lo'ak grins. "So much worse. I thought Aonung was going to yank Nashvi's hair straight off. Sorry sir," he adds, as Tonowari shoots him an unimpressed look from the other end of the table.
"I reckon if Ikari'd been there, he would already be bald," Tuk pipes up.
"Me?" she lets out a surprised laugh.
"You're a good fighter," Lo'ak agrees. "I heard the other warriors talking about it the other day. They were impressed."
"Didn't seem too impressed to me, given that those skxawngs were the first Metkayina to try and talk to me."
"They're all just nervous," Tsireya rolls her eyes. "Half of them have gotten over you being Mangkwan, believe me."
"Then what is it?"
"Hm, I wonder," Lo'ak pretends to ponder. "What could possibly make these people nervous that a terrifying, beautiful stranger is walking around shaking things up around here?"
"They hate me."
Her gaze flicks to Aonung, who's become very interested in his fish.
"Not really. They're scared, sure, but not for the reasons you think. I mean, five against one, and they walked away with two broken noses, a twisted ankle, a sprained wrist and way too many bruises. I counted." Tsireya smiles a little. "I had to check all of them. For the first time, and then they didn't even bother coming back after Aonung found them."
"So they're scared of fighting me?" Ikari raises her brows. "That's a pretty avoidable issue."
"And now, they're totally fascinated by you."
She laughs.
"As if."
"I'm telling you," Lo'ak shrugs. "Walk around the village tomorrow and see for yourself. Just ask Aonung."
She glances over at the Metkayina man. His lips are pulled into a tight line, and when his eyes meet hers he searches them for that unspoken thing. She raises her brows. He wrinkles his nose. She smiles a little. His lips pull further down into a frown.
"What is this?" Tuk writhes in Ikari's lap to look at her face. "Why are you just silently staring at each other? Is this like sign language, because I just got the hang of finger talk and if I have to learn another-"
"I'm sure they'll be interested now," Aonung says lowly, ignoring the others' amused glances. "They like new things."
"Only when they do something interesting, apparently," Ikari frowns. "All I had to do was drown to get people to stop despising me?"
"Now you can make friends," he swallows.
She squints at him. Why does he look so dull now? He looks away when she tilts her head to him.
Oh well.
She tilts her head back against the marui wall and lets Tuk's head curl into her stomach. The girl doesn't mention her scars, but her fingers come up and brush them curiously. She guesses that her family had warned her not to ask about them. Her own hand falls to the girl's hair, raking gently between the little braids.
She can feel the eyes on her as she lets her own close, warmed by the gentle chatter and the softness of the child resting on her. Somewhere between Neytiri's careful gaze, Kiri's kind one, and Aonung's burning one, she lets it all slip away.
Ikari is surprised to wake while it is still dark. She lifts her head with a groan, finding no hard floor beneath her tonight. But when she glances beside her, there is no Aonung. There's no familiar view of the distant rockpools; this marui looks straight out to the horizon.
She must have fallen asleep at dinner, and everyone had let her rest.
Rubbing the ache from her eyes, she realises she is not alone in her consciousness. Haloed against the night and watching the dying fire, she can see Tonowari.
Engaging with the Olo'eyktan as the whole tribe rests, after falling asleep in his home, was not something she was particularly eager to do. But some odd sense has her shifting up off of the wall and moving quietly over to the fire.
"You are awake," he notes.
"I did not mean to fall asleep here," she offers awkwardly. She wasn't an awkward person, and the sudden unease she's feeling is very uncomfortable. "I did not mean to intrude upon your hospitality."
The corners of his lips twitch. Right. She'd crossed that border when she punched one of his Metkayina in the face. "No. Today has been trying for you, Mangkwan."
She nods her appreciation. A few moments pass where they both watch the last flame, dancing between the small logs. It leaves charred kisses along the wood it touches.
"It is a fine thing," Tonowari murmurs. "The fire. It is beautiful."
"Yes," Ikari breathes. "To us, it is the only pure thing in the world."
"Why?"
It is a simple question. Neither curious nor a challenge. Just some offering for her to share something of her own.
She looks up to the gaze of the Olo'eyktan. In it, she finds something gentle, kind, even. He does not seek her harm. She looks back down to the fire, then reaches out to let the flame dance out and curl across her nails.
"It removes pretence," she pulls her hand back and studies the burnished glow at her fingertips. "It does not judge or negotiate or compromise. It consumes only burns, and spares what is strong enough to survive."
Tonowari watches her carry the flames. His brow is set hard, though his concern ebbs away as she shows no sign of scorching.
"It makes things equal. Status, intention, corruption, and innocence all burn."
"Your people do not seek safety." Not a question, not a statement. Again, he just offers something for her to pick up.
"When you lose everything as my people have, you learn to accept the volatility of life," Ikari replies. "Safety, stability, reason, morality; these are the concepts of idealists. We cannot afford such luxuries."
He seems to accept that. He finally frowns at her hands. "You do not burn?"
"I learn to contain," she corrects. "I have had to learn the way of the fire, Olo'eyktan. Pain is fleeting. Strength is sustainable, when nurtured."
"You do not need to ache to be strong," Tonowari murmurs.
"It is the way I know how," Ikari wiggles her fingers to allow more oxygen to pass through the flames. "Your son has told me the same thing. I am learning... to soften."
He tilts his head to her.
"How is Aonung?"
"Aonung?" She closes her hands and extinguishes the light against her palm. "He is a good teacher. Patient. Willing to explain. He pushes me, but waits for my recovery before trying again. It is more measured than I am used to."
"My son?" Tonowari nearly laughs.
"Would you not describe him as such?"
"No," he smiles. "I know this about him, but for a long time he found it very hard to do these decent things. The Sullys were a struggle for him to accept outsiders in the reef, but now... well, it brings me peace to know you do not think he is painful."
"What was he like?" she asks curiously. "Before?"
"He was believed strength must always be shown. He had confidence, though I worried for arrogance and impulsiveness. His pride came from love for the Metkayina, but his immaturity and sharp temper often led him to act before he listens, and that is the lesson he had to learn if he is to lead well."
"He will be a good leader," Ikari offers measuredly. "I may not know how to have an Olo'eyktan who values respect or tradition, but from what I know of him, I am sure he holds deep care for your people and your home."
Tonowari blinks. He looks surprised to hear her words, and hesitates before his next sentence.
"I worry for him."
That sits between them for a moment.
"Why?"
"He should not have had to grow up this fast," Tonowari glances over at the slumbering forms of his children. She hadn't even realised he was there, tucked away in the corner by Pril. "There should be no harm in the reef. Everything should be natural, all death inevitable but steady. He should not have to learn to lead when our people are slaughtered. I do not want him to take up the mantle of a broken clan."
Ikari mulls that over in her mind. She and him were quite similar, after all. They carried the same burdens.
"I never knew that life," she says quietly. "Each day was a struggle, a lesson. From birth, there is no patience for us to grow up. We must simply be grown. And if I could offer a different life to the next children, to allow them light and life, to play and laugh and love, I would do so in a heartbeat. Growing up with danger and loss teaches you to be vigilant and strong, but children should not have to be such things. I am sorry the same fate has been passed to you now."
Tonowari blinks. It's hard to see his expression in the dying glow of the fire. She watches his eyes fall to the absence of light on her skin.
"You are a strong woman. We need strength in these times." He pauses to grimace at her. "I must ask another thing of you."
"Yes?"
"Aonung carries more than he should, and he won’t admit when the weight is too much. He will push himself until he breaks if someone doesn’t remind him he doesn’t have to be strong alone. He thinks responsibility means bodying everything alone.” Tonowari frowns a little as he says his next part. “I thought our clan needed insulation to stay safe. But he is our future, and now I see he needs someone beside him who won’t let him break under it all."
They both look across the marui to where he sleeps. She can only make out the muscles of his back and a few dark curls in the shadows.
"Olo'eyktan," Ikari blinks, "I understand this in him. I give you my word, I will not let it harm him."
He exhales, letting his palms unfold in his lap.
Your parents must be proud."
She hesitates.
"I would not know."
He doesn't pry, which she appreciates. He just offers her a nod of condolence. She appreciates that, too.
"Your people, then."
"The Mangkwan are not like Metkayina. We do not have this... community."
Her tail curls around her. The Olo'eyktan watches her carefully, and she thinks she sees that little swimming shadow of pity pass through his gaze.
"I see," he murmurs. "Then, for now, I will be proud for you."
The words catch her off guard. Ikari doesn’t know what to do with them, so she simply inclines her head in acknowledgement.
They sit in silence after that, the fire finally collapsing into embers. When the heat fades, Tonowari rises, careful not to wake the others.
“You should rest,” he says. “Tomorrow will ask much of you.”
She nods and returns to her place against the wall, lying back down where the sea breeze can reach her. As she closes her eyes, she feels something unfamiliar settle in her chest; not safety, exactly, but the faintest sense of being seen.
By the time sleep takes her again, the fire is gone, and the horizon has begun to pale.
hi pookie! just wanted to ask if that chapter of Reflections that u posted yesterday was a repost? i just noticed that u posted chapter 11 twice. lmao, apologies if i overstep, just hungry for more chapters :))))
fml i meant to post 12 bahahaha thank you for bringing this to my attention im dead 😵
࿔ Pairing: Aonung x Fem Mangkwan Tsakarem OC
࿔ Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity
࿔ Tags: angst, grief, eventual romance, eventual smut, graphic descriptions of violence, enemies, hatred, mature content, trauma, burden of duty, comfort person
~ 4.8k words
"If you need to be mean, be mean to me.
I can take it and put it inside of me."
- I Don't Smoke, Mitski
a/n: so this is me realising i haven't updated my fic on tumblr in weeks - sorry 😐
hope you enjoy this chapter then my loves, xoxo, akoyaxs
Ikari growls as her tail tangles in another branch. Again. This was so frustrating! She was, biologically, technically, forest na'vi. Why could she not walk ten metres in the trees without feeling so humiliatingly uncoordinated?
Because it's nothing to do with the forest, that annoyingly logical voice in her mind argues. You were perfectly fine this morning.
Yes. This morning. She wants to slap herself blind just thinking about it. Not only had she let her guard down long enough to get them hurt in the first place, she'd been so slow to haul it back up that she had been dangerously close to doing something very, very stupid.
"Pull yourself together," she mutters, gritting her teeth and tightening her grip around the woven basket.
She'd gotten more than enough herbs to satisfy Tsireya, but despite her hours already spent hiding in the bush, she still wasn't ready to return to what waited at the village. Who waited at the village.
Aonung was starting to become more of a problem than she'd ever before thought. Sure, he had been irritating, but patient; infuriating, but her only hope. Now, however, he was slipping out of that distant bubble she'd been determined to keep him in, because no matter how hard she tried, he just kept breaking through her defences.
At least the little purple blossoms of the stings had calmed right down; she'd been very careful to plaster the hell out of them with every medicinal salve she could think of. She was not about to return with a necklace of marks left by the future Olo'eyktan. Or his lips, for that matter. Or his tongue, the wet heat of it. She thinks maybe even the graze of his fangs could have dragged her skin in that hollow.
"Stop," she groans, reaching up and slapping herself clean across the face. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Ikari?"
A lot. More and more each day.
She could handle the psychological torture and the decorative scarring from her past. That was acceptable, at least. Whatever this is... it's forbidden. There isn't a single face she could imagine smiling at it, her included.
"You are being pathetic." Her habit of talking to herself may be one of the only things that hasn't changed since coming here. "Stop distracting yourself. Just... focus. On herbs. That's what you came here for."
She forces her gaze away the fading flush of her wrist and studies the contents of her basket. Full to the brim. Overflowing, even.
There's really no reason to keep hiding in here.
The light without shade is almost violent. She lifts a hand to shield her eyes as she pushes through the fronds and makes her way back out onto the sand. It must be nearly afternoon now. With any luck, Aonung would have returned with Lo'ak and Spider from his fishing, so she wouldn't have to run the risk of seeing him swim past as she made her way back to the village.
Her mind fills with the look on his face as he helped her up, still flushed with the fervour of moments before. His fingers had been so gentle as he steadied her on the branch. His eyes had been so wide and blue and confused and still a little hungry as he asked her if she was alright.
And then her gaze floods with the furrow of his brow as she apologised and pulled away. She hadn't dared to look at him again after that, but she felt his eyes burning as she stumbled away to anywhere he wouldn't be.
"For fucks sake," Ikari grunts, dragging a deep gouge through the sand with her foot, "get a grip."
"What?"
Her eyes dart up instantly. Of course she'd been too distracted to notice the approach of several Metkayina around her age.
"What did you say?" the same boy tilts his head.
There's five of them, three boys with dark curls, none as tall or broad as Aonung, but each still taller and broader than her. The two others are girls, lean and pretty, though the dark glitter of their eyes doesn't exactly inspire warmth.
"Nothing," Ikari murmurs, drawing her herbs closer to her.
This was the first time any Metkayina had even tried to speak to her since the incident with the children on her first day. Her week here without interaction wasn't exactly disappointing though. She wasn't that keen to talk to any of the villagers who looked at her like she was a disease at best.
"Nothing," one of the girls mocks, lowering her voice to Ikari's measured cadence. "Were you talking to yourself, fire-spreader?"
She stays quiet.
If eywa truly was out there, she must detest Ikari; always placing her in these situations where every option for her reaction would end in persecution.
"Are you ignoring me?" the girl asks, dropping the sardonic smile that had marred her face before. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Psycho," the other girl rolls her eyes. "Of course she was talking to herself- who else would speak to her? Even demons get lonely."
"I'm only getting herbs for your Tsakarem," Ikari keeps her voice light and calm. "To help your people."
"To help?" one of the boys scoffs. "You think you help us?"
"You kill us," another boy scowls. "Your people are insane, and don't think just because you can talk to the chief's son, anyone is fooled by you. You are no better than those tawtutes, goddless murderer."
Ikari forces her face to be neutral. She should have known better than to speak at all. Her very presence seemed to invite their aggression.
"Look at her, so careless that she couldn't be more unwelcome here," the girl rolls her eyes. "You think you're hot shit?"
"Did I say that?" Ikari raises her brows.
"You're not. You are a fucking freak."
"Okay."
The Metkayina only grow more frustrated that she refuses to fall for their taunts.
"Look at this," one of the boys tugs on her tail. "Baby tail."
"This skin, too. So dry, and the grey is hideous too."
"Must have some shame then, if you're too cowardly to even wear your real skin."
"You're not even real na'vi. Don't even have tahni."
She snatches her arm back as one of the girls loops her fingers around her wrist.
"How are you so skinny," she curls her lips. "Do the demons even feed you? Or, let me guess, it's all stolen junk. How do you even swim without anything on your bones?"
Ikari draws her head high. "What, surprised it doesn't burn to touch me?"
One of the boys grins.
"Oh yeah, you want to test that?" His palm splays across her stomach and he pulls her closer. "See, I'm totally fine."
"Get your hands off of me," Ikari growls, shoving his hands away.
"Or what?" another boy leers. "Gonna burn us? Gonna scorch us?"
He grins and gestures something to his friends. She shifts uncomfortably, wishing for the first time she'd asked Aonung to teach her their stupid finger talk.
"What, Mangkwan? Don't speak our language?"
"Look at this paint." Hands smear over her face, dragging the red and black far down from her eyes to bleed down her cheeks.
"You don't touch me," she warns, stepping back as he presses in.
She's met with a shove from the girl behind her. They're closing in now, closing ranks around her like she's some little prey.
"Aw, I thought your kind were supposed to be tough," he pouts. "Where's all your fire now, smoke-breather?"
"Imaginative," Ikari grits her teeth, forcing herself to calm. "Steal that insult from a child? Surely no one older than two would think that was good."
"Shut up," another boy tugs at her tail. "Now you're just asking to be taught a lesson."
"And what lesson would that be?" she knocks another pair of hands away from the scars on her back. "How to act like a pimp to impress the ditziest girls?"
"Ditzy?" one of the girls hisses. "Oh, you're fucking dead."
"And yet I breathe."
She catches the girl's wrist as she attempts to slap her. She twists it easily away and laughs when she yowls and stumbles to her knees beside her.
"Putana!" one of the boys reaches to help her up before rounding on Ikari. "You want a lesson, freak? Fi-"
Ikari's fist collides with his face. Hard. Strong enough to hear the gratifying crunch of bone under her knuckle. She's met with a retaliatory slap across the face as his friend shouts out. She twists in a boy's grip to bring her knee up to their stomach and shove them back into the other girl. They both topple back with a groan, but a moment later, a hand fists in her braids and yanks hard enough to force a groan out of her.
"Fucking bitch," the last boy grunts in her face. "You come into our reef and dare to raise your skinny little hands to us?"
"Does it look like I'm scared of you?" Ikari reaches up and slams her hands into his throat.
He chokes and releases her, and she lands a new kick to someone else's knee. She's good at this. This, finally, is something that's familiar. Fighting was maybe the most common pastime with the Mangkwan, but despite all her aggression, five against one was just not optimistic odds.
The cold, hard strength of a tail collides with her stomach and she folds, choking for the breath that was knocked out of her.
"Good one, Ongu," one of the boys shouts, grinning sickly through his bleeding nose as she coughs against the sand. "Look at her, thinking she could have taken us."
"Fuck you," she struggles to spit.
She's met with hisses and growls. She catches more gestures, furious ones that make the others grin and nod eagerly. Another blow strikes right over her bullet wound and she gasps. Red-hot agony shoots through her blood, and for a few moments all she knows is spinning sunlight and the kicking sand between stupid teal ankles.
When she has enough breath to hear again, she finds herself completely off the ground. She kicks out wildly, but the holds on her wrists and ankles are steel, and she can feel her skin pinching and twisting under their fingers. Her tail lashes with violent fury, whipping across several stomachs.
"Ow! Fucking- ugh! Stop being such a bitch!"
"Let me go," she snarls, writhing harder as they drag her over the sand. "How dare you touch me like this!"
"Acting like you have rights," Putana sneers, tightening her hold on Ikari's wrists until she groans. "We don't owe you shit."
Her tail smacks waves and her body scorches at the realisation of what's happening.
"Stop!" she growls, trying to ignore the horrible terror that won't let her breathe. She needs that breath more than anything, especially if she's about to go under. "Let me go! Stop right now-"
"Pathetic," Ongu laughs. "Look at her, trying to fix herself now she's realised what a little problem she is. Sorry grey, too late."
"NO!" she shouts, something sick and black clawing through her throat and stopping her from inhaling. "NO! DON-"
"Shut her up," one of the boys hisses. "She's going to get us in trouble."
"No," Ikari snarls, "I will not le-"
In a froth of growls and grips, she's forced under.
She had been right to want to stay clear of the ocean.
With Aonung, it had been cool and gentle. At its worst, it could get coercive.
But this was something else entirely, the rush of wet all around her, everything so vicious and hostile she doesn't even know what she is anymore. The grips don't loosen as she's pushed down and down and down, holding her in strangling cuffs of muscle and bone and nail. Her eyes sting in the flood of bubbles. Everything is just so blue, their eyes, their skin, the water around them. Her chest burns as oxygen flees her lungs.
She doesn't know if she's screaming. She doesn't even know if she can feel her flesh anymore - everything is so agonising it's numb.
Even as she claws at whoever's closest to her and feels skin tear under her nails, she's not brought any nearer to the surface.
Oh my god, her heart sinks faster than she does. They're going to try to kill me.
Lessons were supposed to hurt. They were supposed to sting and ache until you couldn't breathe, but they were supposed to stop now. They were meant to finish at the very moment that your spinning mind neare black, not when you passed the dark to see the blazing lights beyond.
She thinks she might be sobbing, but it's hard to tell when her chest wracks with compulsive spasms for air.
I'm going to drown. Years of training. A bullet. A new light. All of that, just to be dragged to the bottom of the ocean.
Yes, she could see the light above, filtering between the gaudy grins. It's not gold or silver, just the purest sort of white. Waiting for her. It calls her.
Then it's blocked. She frowns, reaching again for it, but there's something in her way. It's big and furious, kicking down towards her. It's stopping her from finding that calm. She can't even see it though. No outline, no colour, just solid obstruction closing in on her. Then around her. It replaces the hands on her, it snatches her away before the light can.
She doesn't fight it. She likes this hold better, even though it's hard and it hurts.
It takes her several moments to realise that the cold striking her is air. Air that she can breathe, that she is breathing, that isn't salt and water and fear. She swallows it so greedily she chokes and chokes again.
"Hey, hey," a hand knocks against her chest. "Slow down."
Ikari inhales so hard she cries. She finds her eyes are already wet, but she can't feel her tears. Everything about her is wet and salty right now, anyway.
Something swims in front of her again. It's dark black and seafoam and a little turquoise as well, and it's glittery and terrified. She reaches for it and is surprised to feel flesh under her fingers. She blinks again, and that little ring of blue irises is barely intelligible against pupils blown so wide the eyes could just be black.
Her hand trembles against Aonung's face. She's trembling, all over, and there's no way she can bring herself to still. To her horror, she feels the sick quiver yearn for her lips. She can't help it.
"Oh," she breathes, fingers thoughtlessly tracing over the stripe along his cheek. "It's you."
She has no choice but to watch him watch her break. The first sob bubbles out of her. The second tears straight through her lips and rocks her whole body.
"Ikari," Aonung's brows draw together. He looks terrified too. "You..."
God, she hates the sound that her body forces out. It's so childish, the whine of a wounded animal, the same stupid cry of a baby.
His hand eclipses hers, hot and rough palm meeting the back of hers. He holds her there, up against the warmth of his face. His other hand finds her shoulder and lifts her up to him.
She can't even think about how easy it is to fold into him. All she can do is let herself break and let him be there for it. Her face buries itself in the curve of his shoulder. She doesn't care that he hesitates. She doesn't care about anything when she feels his arms close around her.
He's warm. So warm. There's nothing in the world except the warmth of him folding in around her. He's everywhere, one hand at her back, the other falling into her hair and trailing down through it, stroking her so gently that it physically hurts. She can feel the beat of his heart against her breast, feel the rest of his head over her own. Something hums in him. She doesn't know if it's even a sound or if she thinks she hears the feeling of him, but its so goddamn soft against her.
All of him, all that campfire seasalt coconut amber scent enfolds her. It's all she can breathe as she buries herself deeper into his neck and counts his pulse against her cheek.
One. Two. Three.
She doesn't need oxygen anymore. She has everything she needs, but she still needs more.
"It's okay," he breathes. "You're okay now."
She braces herself to pull away. She doesn't want to. She knows it's going to be cold and empty, and she'd much rather stay where she's sheltered by muscle and heart and comfort. But she does, because she must.
His eyes are oddly shiny when she gazes into them. In the glassy ink of his pupils, she can see herself. Ruined, really. Her eyes are so red they could be bleeding. Her nose is, as is the corner of her lip and a long scratch across her cheek. They're shiny enough that she can see her own, and in those she can see him again.
"You're here," she murmurs, running her hands down the new mess of her face. "How are you here?"
"I dragged you out."
"How?" she shakes her head, biting her lip hard to stop herself crying again. She hates herself enough for letting those tears slip, she's not about to do it twice. "How did you find me?"
"I was looking for you." Aonung's voice is low too. He sounds so careful. "I was trying to find you, praying you were in the bay, when I heard you shouting."
"Oh," she winces. Her throat throbs, a little reminder of why she sounds so ridiculously broken.
"I ran out of the village to the beach, and I saw them surrounding you. Grabbing you. Dragging you out to the water." His eyes dart down to the long nail-marks gouged down one of her thighs. He clears his throat and looks back to her. "I thought I was going to be too late. I mean, by the time I'd swum out, there were hardly any bubbles where they'd taken you down..."
He swallows. She blinks. Several times.
"Where'd they go?" she asks.
She'd meant to sound emotionless, but any attempt for nonchalance wasn't needed. Her voice was already so flat. He frowns, like he hadn't even thought about it.
"I don't know," he mutters. "when they saw me coming they all sort of scattered and then I was so busy finding you and getting you out that, well, you know."
Ikari just nods. God, everything hurts. Why does everything hurt. so. fucking. bad?
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she laughs shakily. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You don't have to do that," Aonung says.
"Do what?"
"That. Act like everything's fine. Everything's not fine. It's so obviously not fine, Ikari, so don't bother forcing yourself to think you should be tough."
She's too tired to argue with him. Even so, she forces herself to sit back and strip herself of his warmth. Even the brush of their legs from when she'd pulled away their first time had been so must safer than the cold without him. He watches her go with a careful gaze.
"I'm tired, Aonung."
Ikari curls her knees up to her chest and rests her head on the top. She ignores the fact that she much preferred his shoulder.
"God, I'm so fucking tired I can't even breathe anymore," she murmurs. "This whole time, I've been trying to behave, trying to be safe for these people, trying to be good enough so they won't hate me. But no matter what, I'm just a demon to them."
His gaze sears where it lands on her face.
"No," she shakes her head, frowning at the newly-forming bruise on her shin. "It's worse than that. I'm an un-na'vi. I'm an offence to everything that breathes around here, a defiance against your principles and your faith, a threat to your families, a mistake made by the man who should lead them."
He flinches at that. She doesn't feel that stab of satisfaction. It doesn't feel like power.
"I could make them hate you, Aonung," she breathes. The words are sour and addictive, and she hadn't realised just how much they've been writhing in her throat. "I could make them lose every bit of faith, every once of respect they have for you. I could make them think you do not care for them, that you so desperately wanted to prove yourself, you brought the end of the clan. All through me. All because of me."
"Ikari." His hands close on her arm again. The contact is warm and solid, and a deep part of her prays it won't be fleeting. "Please don't."
"Why did you save me?"
Her question hangs between them, so heady and that weird sort of offensive that neither want to touch it. But they have to. She had forced herself to offer it, after all.
"Why did you bring me here?" her eyes find him, they always do. "Why did you bring me to a place I will be hated? Why did you wake me to a new life where I will still be an outsider? Why did you want me alive? I'm not any use to you, not really. Not enough to balance all the harm I could bring to you. I could share this hate I take. I could destroy you, Aonung."
"You won't," he whispers. "We both know you won't."
"Why?" Ikari swallows again.
"You're not going to hurt me."
She exhales at his words. She hates them.
"You should have left me at the bottom of the ocean. You should have left the bullet."
He doesn't blink. He doesn't recoil. His palm tethers her to him. She couldn't have lifted it if she tried. Not even if she wanted to try.
"Oh my god," a distance voice breathes. Sand squeaks - a grating intrusion on anything that isn't Aonung - as footsteps race towards them. "Oh my god, oh my-"
Aonung's head lifts from hers. It's just his head, but she already feels its absence against her skin like a torn appendage.
"What... what happened?"
A new voice, equally shocked, equally horrified.
"Ikari... what..."
She braces herself as she meets the new gazes. Expectedly, the waiting eyes widen as she meets them.
"Oh, Ikari," Tsireya claps a hand to her mouth.
"Are you okay?" Lo'ak looks feverishly between her and Aonung. "Is she okay? Is she-"
"I'm fine," Ikari forces out. Her voice sounds so hollow and tinny, and she regrets speaking instantly as her throat burns.
"What happened?" Tsireya kneels down in front of her. Her gaze flicks to her brother, how he's still holding her, and how Ikari can't seem to pull out of his hands. Just lifting her head and turning to them seemed like effort enough for her.
"I... I don't even know," Ikari whispers.
"It was Koro," Aonung grits his teeth. "With Ongu and Nashvi. Solu and Putana, too."
From the low growl in Lo'ak's throat, she knows this isn't an outlying event. They had seemed fairly comfortable harassing the biology of forest na'vi.
"Can you breathe okay?" Tsireya stresses, hardly paying attention to the angry, knowing looks the boys are exchanging. "Is there water in your lungs? Did Aonung crush anything when he pulled you out? Are-"
"I can breathe fine," Ikari assures her. "It's just... well..." she gestures down at the mess she looks.
"Let me see," the Metkayina girl studies the bruises and cuts over her skin. "You must have gotten his with a tail, and ooh, they did not hold back with their grips. Does that hurt?"
She prods lightly at Ikari's wrists and she hisses. Tsireya's lip draws into a concerned line, and she continues scrutinising Ikari's body until she's cut off by Aonung. She'd half forgotten that he was still holding her.
"Let her go, Aonung," Tsireya frowns at her brother. He blinks several times, glancing at Ikari with a worried frown, before finally loosening his fingers and letting his hand drop away. "Oh eywa. Okay, good thing I made new tawtsngal salve this morning."
"My herbs!" Ikari's gaze shoots up, but Tsireya forces her back down.
"Oh my, those hardly matter now. Just sit- sit, Ikari. I promise you, it's okay. I can go find them later. Just let me look at you."
Ikari looks past her to her brother.
Aonung's jaw is clenched so hard she wonders how far off he is from cracking a fang. His hands have pressed the sand below so flat, little mounds have curled up around his palm. He seems to have made some quiet agreement with Lo'ak, who looks just as angry.
"Is she alright?" he asks Tsireya carefully.
"She will be okay," Tsireya nods grimly. "I'll need to fix up all these... bruises and cuts, but she doesn't have any damage to her throat and lungs. Just very tender where they, um- where they held her down. Her wrists and her ankles."
Aonung doesn't seem any more relieved at that. Not when his eyes are fixed so coldly on the green and purple mottle of her flesh.
"I'll take her back to the village," Tsireya offers, also giving him that sort of knowing look that Ikari doesn't understand. "I'll take her now."
He glances back at Ikari. She raises her brows weakly at him, and he looks away as her cheek bleeds a little more and she winces. His gaze returns to the others as his fist curls into the sand.
Some understanding passes between him and his sister. Lo'ak, too.
"Alright," he says finally.
What? Ikari's mind races in a sudden panic. You're leaving?
Thoughtlessly, as he makes to stand, her hand lands on him. She should let go, she really should, but she finds it weirdly hard to lift her palm back up of the smooth hardness of his knuckles. He looks down to their hands and meets her gaze. In his, she can see something boiling beneath the blue. It hurts when he pulls away.
"I'll see you back at the village."
"Be careful," Tsireya says cautiously, blinking up at Aonung. "Please."
Ikari doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know what to think, either. Her mind seems to have stopped working some point between going under and melting into Aonung, and now it aches to even try guessing where they're going.
"We will," Lo'ak replies, when Aonung just grits his teeth and looks away. "I'll see you soon."
He brushes Tsireya's face lightly with his fingers and gives Ikari a kind sort of grimace.
Tsireya looks like she wants to say something else. Her eyes fix on the heavy stillness of her brother as he gazes out across the bay - still not looking at Ikari. Her lips part, but the Metkayina girl just pauses then closes them and gives them a stiff nod of farewell.
"Come on," she murmurs, nudging Ikari up as the boys head off across the sand. "Let me get you up."
"Where are they going?" Ikari mutters, gritting her teeth as her ankle burns in protest. "Mmn- ow."
"What is it?"
"My ankle," she shifts her weight more to her left foot. "I think they twisted it a little."
"Here, I'll help you back," Tsireya loops her arm around Ikari's shoulder. "One step at a time, you're doing so well."
The journey back to the village is unnecessarily long and crudely painful. Each step shot fire through her ankle, and it didn't help that the second the lights came into view, so did the gazes.
No one looks that surprised. Barely anyone even seems to feel bad. There isn't much pleasure in all the blue eyes watching her bleed and glare through the crowds, so maybe the Metkayina aren't all sadistic and vindictive, but no one steps forward to help as their Tsakarem leads her through to be healed.
The moment her back passes, the looks slur into whispers. She's too tired to bother catching any of them. She knows what they'll be saying, anyway.
Even as Tsireya sits her down on the softest mat, as she massages all the hard tension from her body, as she laves her bruises in salves and pastes, Ikari doesn't feel any softer. When Kiri rushes in and barrages her with furious questions, strokes her hair and murmurs odd remedies from the forest, she doesn't feel any less forsaken.
All she knew was that twice now she brushed the darkness of death, and twice she'd awoken, alive, to that watery safety of ocean eyes.
But Aonung isn't here now, and without that solid blue to hold her steady, she still feels like she's sinking.
When Tsireya lays her down and prescribes her sleep, when the salves cool and the voices thin and the village finally drifts into its restless sleep, Ikari lies awake staring at the woven ceiling above her. Every time she closes her eyes, she feels hands again; fingers digging, weight pressing, the ocean swallowing sound and light and thought. Her chest tightens reflexively, a sharp panic blooming, and she gulps in air just to prove to herself that it’s still there.
She breathes.
In. Out.
It doesn’t help as much as it should.
What does help, what she hates that she needs, is the memory of warmth. Of arms locking around her. Of a heartbeat steady enough to count when hers had stalled. Of blue eyes blown wide with panic.
She turns her face into the mat and presses her fingers into the fibres until her knuckles ache.
Twice now, she thinks dimly, I have been pulled back. Not by Eywa. Not by the sea. By him.
Somewhere beyond the village lights, beyond the shallows and the watching eyes, Aonung is out there with blood on his hands and terror in his chest, and the thought should terrify her. It should make her feel guilty or sick. Instead, it roots her to this world in a way nothing else ever has.
Ikari exhales, slow and shaking. She is still here. She is still breathing. And whatever waits for her next, hate, punishment, or reckoning, it will have to find her alive.
Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.
Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.
We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.
Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.
The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.
Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.
We Don’t Know What Comes Next
There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
How You Can Help
I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:
Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.
Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.
