I've been a long-time fan of AVATAR since I can remember, yet haven't truly thought about writing for them until recently. When Fire and Ash came out, and I found I had enough time apart from studies to write, I finally mustered up the courage to begin writing a few pieces in the world. As someone who has written for other fandoms under other aliases, it's honestly long overdue.
I will take any suggestions in the inbox, however I'm not one to write extremely explicit material considering I'm only recently an adult. With that in mind, this account is purely for AVATAR themed fanfiction, discussions and media - so please withhold requests for other fandoms.
Hiii I was just wondering when you’d be continuing the wwbo series? No pressure at all!!🩷
Hello dear!! I certainly will <3
Apologies for keeping my readers waiting; a sudden family emergency popped up, and now I'm on my exam season as well, so I've had absolutely no energy to be tackling writing - not to mention finding the time. :)
It may be a short while yet, but it will come, as I'm having to tie up loose ends and am staying in a different country atm (for family).
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan / Metkayina!Original Character
O’txoa te Ao'wahi Malu'ite, raised by her eldest brother, has no firm position in her clan other than as a training rolyu, until her quiet curiosity for the forest people draws her into the current of Neteyam Sully. O’txoa finds herself captivated by the world beyond the waves, and in listening, she becomes an outlet for a certain warrior boy's homesickness.
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 3.6k
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀 / 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : near-drowning, O'emey being a skxawng
last part || series masterlist || next part
Two weeks later
O’txoa decided, without reservation, that she was sick of her twin.
Not merely mildly irritated, nor momentarily annoyed: truly sick of him.
Her anger with O’emey was usually a soft thing, slow to grow and quick to fade. A familiar swell that rises and ebbs like the tide, so easily worn down by his stubborn loyalty and the quiet, aching protectiveness that seemed neverending; always watching as though the word were waiting for a moment of inattention in which it’d sweep her away.
Usually she endured it well enough, but this time? She could not.
He had crossed some invisible line and she felt it keenly. Since he had begun spending every day with Aonung, O’emey had become quicker to anger, and since the new arrivals settled into the reef he’d become unbearable. He tracked her movements with maddening persistence, never quite in her space and yet never far away enough to forget. If she left the marui, he followed, and if she lingered near the waters he hovered close by. All because Aonung, and by extension him, had decided that Toruk Makto’s children were strange (which they were) and therefore dangerous (couldn’t be furthest from the truth). O’emey had taken this opinion and folded it neatly to accompany his own sense duty.
Sempu did not agree.
O’nun had softened after meeting Jake Sully, the silent suspicion he’d held eased into a more measured apprehension. From the little he had said of the man, he found him respectful and capable; and no Toruk Makto would need to prove strength to anyone. As the clan grew more accustomed to the family’s presence, and sempu was needed to frequently to speak with the warriors, the responsibility of “watching” O’txoa had shifted right over. Back to O’emey.
The realisation made her bristle.
She was no child; she was not delicate sea shell to be set aside for safekeeping. She was her own person and she refused to be managed like a task or an obligation by her overbearing, territorial skxawng of a twin-
…right up until she discovered that sticking close to him and his friends meant she had a much higher chance of spotting the Sully family.
Deeply irritating an understanding, but extremely useful.
Tsireya was still tasked with helping the newcomers adapt to Awa’atlu, which meant that if she endured her brother’s hovering presence, and the way his friends had began to linger far too close, she might catch glimpses of the newcomers as they moved through their day to day. She had absolutely no interest in the boys around her; none in the slightest. The fact that many of them were nearing iknimaya and had suddenly become acutely aware of their eligibility as potential mates left her unmoved. Their kindness felt rehearsed, self-conscious, and totally hollow.
She tolerated it all, even if only for information, mainly because every time she asked Tsireya a simple question about the Sullys, her friend dissolved into giddy nonsense. She’d gush about the younger brother; his lingering looks, his courage, how he smiled when he was embarrassed, and his determination to get better and stop having to go to the surface to soon.
O’txoa had stared at her, incredulous.
By Eywa.
She did not care about that.
She wanted to know about what the girl had heard about the jungle. She was desperate for stories of ikran roosts high in the mountains and pa’li hooves rolling across open plains. She wanted to hear about weaving techniques, beadwork, the cadence of their songs and how they differed from her own. She wanted stories, history, movement!
Not a detailed account of a skinny forest boy nearly drowning.
So she rode Antxu alongside her brother, dove beneath the water while he hunted and sang softly toherself as she gathered shells, stones, and unfamiliar bits of flora that looked promising for weaving. It was good practice in testing her memory for the clan’s songs. She might not have the long waytelem to drape over her lap as she sang, but she at least figured that she knew the first 10 beads by memory without aid. Honestly, she had much to learn still.
With all her undercover efforts, she’d managed to amass a small hoard in their marui; rare shells, polished coral, piles of cleaned, dried and treated fibres.
Sempu only ended up noticing when O’txoa nearly collided with him.
She caught herself at the last moment, tail flicking for balance as the precarious armful she carried shifted dangerously. Fibres spilled over her forearms in sun-dried loops, colours from deep greens to pale yellows and vibrant orange.
She froze, peeking around the bundle. O’nun blinked once, before laughing, causing her ears to heat up and pin back in mild frustration. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he took her in.
“That’s a lot,” he said, amused. “Are you moving out the marui, or… because I’ll have to stop you.”
O’txoa tightened her grip, small noise escaping as another bundle slipped. “I am okay,” she insisted, though her arms were trembling. “I just need to put them away.”
“Mmh.” He smiled openly now, impressed rather than doubtful. His gaze flicked over the materials, taking in the various types of weed. “You’ve been busy, then.”
She shifted her weight. “Just… gathering.”
“Clearly.” He chuckled again, softer this time. “I was worried that Ey had been crowding you too much. Making things difficult.” His eyes returned to her face, pleased. “But this is good. Good job. You’ve been doing very well for yourself.”
She had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek. Because what? The reason she had all of this was-Never mind. Looking at the relief on her sempu’s face, she didn’t have the heart to break his happiness.
She managed a smile, small and bashful over the wobbling pile in her arms. “I try.”
O’nun’s leaned closer, reaching out without hesitation. His fingers gently tugged something free from her hair. He lifted the piece of coral between them, inspecting it briefly before snorting and throwing it to one side. Then, smoothly, he took the entire armful from her, settling easily against his chest as if they weighed nothing at all. He adjusted his grip and glanced down at her, still smiling.
“So,” he said lightly, “where do you want them?”
O’txoa exhaled, relief rushing through her limbs, and smiled back.
⸙༄
O’emey’s voice was grating as it rang in her ear.
He had insisted she come along, tugging her from the marui after his friends rose just after dawn to go hunt. A small one, nothing dangerous and nothing that could take a whole day, going just beyond the reef where the water deepened and the currents were a little stronger. Spears were checked, nets secured, and the boys’ voices murmured in low, focused tones. Just as soon as she was dragged from her comfortable marui, she was given instructions. They told her to stay there near the mouth of the reef and not follow, that they’d be quick.
“We will be back, Txoa,” O’emey breathed, pointing to the jagged rocks near a few flat slabs on the horizon, “It’s just hammerbrow. Olo’eyktan mentioned there’s a shortage, so Aonung was asked to get us together and gather a few. You will stay.”
“You are no warrior, Rolyutsyìp [little singer],” Ena'txu grinned as he tilted his head to meet her eye, tying his long hair into a bun.
He’s pushed out the way by a familiar face, who gestures for the group to get going; Ena’txu rolling his eyes and urging his ilu to move, swiftly followed by Rotxo and Rolo.
“You will not be risked” Aonung adds with a level look, tying a final net to his hip, “My father would skin me if we lost you.”
Usually, the explanation dropped like a heavy stone. She noddde, outwardly compliant even as she inwardly bristled. Her gentleness did not mean she was fragile. Ask Tsireya - she’s still got a bruise from O’txoa’s tail after she mentioned Lo’ak for the 10th time in one conversation. Plus, her acceptance of her situation certainly didn’t not mean she was incapable of dealing with it herself.
But today she accepted it with gratitude.
The moment their figures blurred into the deeper blue and their voices faded into distance, the tension in her shoulders lifted. She sighed.
O’txoa climbed onto a sun-warmed shelf of stone at the edge of the reef and let herself simply be. Antxu drifted close at once, sensing the shift in her mood, lifting his broad head until it rested comfortably against her thighs. She smiled, fingers moving automatically to trace the smooth lines of his skull.
She leaned back, supported by a hand, and closed her eyes.
The breeze skimmed over her skin, tugging at damp hair and drying salt along her skin. The ocean hushed around her; gentle waves, distant calls, the low rhythm of life continuing without urgency. He breathing slowed and she let her thoughts quieten.
For a perfect moment in time, she was entirely at peace.
“O’TXOA!”
Her eyes flew open.
She turned toward the sound, squinting as the light shifted. There, waist-deep in the shallows, was Tsireya. Her arms were raised high, waving with unmistakable excitement, her grin so wide it looked as though it might split her face in two.
O’txoa laughed softly and lifted a hand in reply.
Then she saw them.
Three ilus glided in beside Tsireya, their sleek forms cutting through the water. They hovered close, alert but calm, their riders’ silhouettes unmistakable even at a distance.
Her smile stayed in place, but her breath slowed.
Tsireya beckoned eagerly, bouncing in place, and Antxu trilled beneath her hands. O’txoa rose smoothly to her feet, schooling her expression carefully. She refused, absolutely refused, to let her delight show too obviously. She would not betray just how elated she is at this opportunity.
Sliding back into the water felt like slipping back into herself. Antxu dipped beneath the surface at her unspoken cue, and she followed hands-first, silent and fluid. She mounted him underwater, legs folding against his sides, and guided him forward, eyes tracking shadows rather than faces until they drew close.
Only when she was close did she surface.
Water streamed down her hair and lashes as she blinked, lifting one hand to sweep the damp weight over her shoulder. With the other, she touched her forehead in greeting, posture respectful and composed.
“Oel ngati kameie.”
They mirrored the gesture without hesitation.
“This is my friend,” Tsireya announced proudly, gesturing between them. “She is to be the next Olo'rolyu.”
Her eyes sparkled with teasing delight, face open with a conspiring smile as she looked between her friend and the group.
O’txoa hummed, heat flushing her cheeks as she shot Tsireya a look that was half warning and half fond resignation. Then she turned back, placing a hand to her chest.
“O’txoa te Ao’wahi Malu’ite,” she said softly. “And you?”
Introductions flowed easily.
“Lo’ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.”
She nodded politely, gaze flicking onward and catching on the next boy. He stood slightly apart, a battle band crossing his chest, posture easy but watchful. He carried much of his mother in his features, and his father in his stance. When his eyes met hers, he smiled.
It was the same smile as before and, again, she couldn’t help but answer it.
“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan,” he said.
She nodded, forcing herself to look away before the moment lingered too long. Despite this, the girl beside him smirked faintly, clearly having noticed.
“Kiri te Suli Kìreysì’ite,” she added, arms crossed and hip cocked. “And before you ask about my name- I’m adopted.”
O’txoa blinked, surprised into stillness, before she chuckled. She hadn’t been about to ask, and she inclined her head.
“I am too,” she said honestly. “In a way. My brother raised me. It is not against our nature to be raised by someone who isn’t a parent.”
Kiri’s expression softened, and she reached up to play with a few beads in her short hair. O’txoa realised that she was considerably more strange in appearance than the others.. but there was an air-like beauty to her. She decided she liked Kiri very much.
Tsireya launched into explanation, words tumbling over one another as she described her efforts to teach them to dive properly; how they struggled with breath control, how some picked it up quickly and others… not so much. She admitted, sheepish but hopeful, that she’d thought to ask the clan’s best swimmer (well done Tsireya, you’ve learnt how to appeal to ego) for help.
“Have you tried the breathing method?” she asked, placing a hand at her stomach.
“Kiri’s good, a natural even,” Tsireya nodded, glancing at her, before gesturing to the other two, “But they keep panicking when at a certain depth.”
O’txoa worried her lower lip for a moment and glanced toward the horizon, where those rocks jutted from the waters. O’emey would return soon… but he didn’t need to know.
She turned back to them, and this time her smile was bright and unguarded.
“Come,” she said gently. “I know a good place to practice.”
They guided their mounts into a narrow cut in the reef. Coral walls curved inward like cupped hands, sheltering a basin of water so clear it looked almost unreal; glass-smooth at the surface, shimmering with pale light beneath. Beyond the inlet’s mouth, waves rolled and broke with their usual insistence, but here the sound dulled to a low murmur. Thin threads of steam curled lazily from fractures in the stone, warmth seeping up from deep below. The air smelled different here, much heavier with salt.
Tsireya’s face transformed the moment she saw it.
“Oh,” she breathed, delighted. “This is perfect.”
O’txoa felt a quiet swell of pride as she treaded water, Antxu circling her once after she broke tsaheylu before settling just beyond the inlet. “It’s meant for rest,” she explained. “The rocks below are warm, and the salt is thicker here.” She gestured slightly with one hand, indicating the basin. “If someone panics, the water helps. It lifts.”
The Sully children were visibly intrigued. Lo’ak looked like he was barely containing himself, whereas Kiri had gone quiet, smiling as she peered through the surface. Neteyam, meanwhile, had already disconnected his tsaheylu. He slipped from his ilu, entering the water and treading easily as the creature veered away.
O’txoa turned to him. “Will your little sister join us?”
“Not today,” Tsireya said lightly, answering for him as she urged Lo’ak’s ilu to leave the area. “She’s busy.”
“She’s helping our sa’nok gather,” Neteyam added.
O’txoa nodded once. Then her gaze flicked back to Tsireya, something playful sparking there as they met one another’s eye. Before anyone could comment, she dove.
The water swallowed her in an instant; cold first, before warmth bloomed beneath it, salt-heavy and buoyant. There was more resistance to swimming here, but the water hugged her with kinder touch. It supported her weight, cradling her movement despite it’s urges for her to rise. She cut through it cleanly, hair streaming behind her, a silent laugh shaking her shoulders as she heard Tsireya plunge in after her without hesitation.
Above, muffled yelps and splashes echoed down.
O’txoa leveled out beneath them, hovering just below the surface as she looked up through the wavering light. The Sully kids had held their breath and sunk slightly, eyes wide as they watched. She wove a slow circle around them, graceful and unhurried, then turned and pointed down.
Kiri responded instantly, grin flashing before she dove. Her own body was quick, slicing through the water with surprising grace. Lo’ak followed a heartbeat later, far faster than O’txoa had expected; confident, a little reckless, with movement driven by momentum rather than the proper technique.
Neteyam came last.
Much more slowly.
Her head tilted, lips pursing slightly in thought. He should have had the advantage; his build, his training, and the confidence implied by his battle band. But the movement didn’t flow with him the way it did the others. His arms moved correctly, his legs kicked well enough, but there was no flow. His hips weren’t turning with the current and his tail moved against it instead of with it.
The water did not welcome him because he didn’t give himself to it.
He looked at her.
She smiled, encouraging.
He tried to return it too quickly.
His mouth opened, a little too wide and with one choke his breath broke and he coughed hard.
Oh no.
O’txoa reacted without thinking, body turning as she surged toward him. She slipped beneath his arms, bracing her forearms under his shoulders as he went stiff. She wasn’t strong enough to lift him outright, but the buoyant water helped. She kicked hard, angling them both upward.
Light rushed closer.
They broke the surface together and Neteyam came up coughing, water spilling from his mouth as his chest hitched with the effort of pulling air back into his lungs. He sputtered once, twice, and then again, until the panic began to ebb.
Her hands pressed flat to his chest without hesitation, feeling the wild, uneven thrum beneath his ribs. Satisfied he was breathing, she shifted closer and moved her hands to pat his cheeks lightly in small slaps; quick, practiced touches meant to chase the cold and shock away.
“Neteyam,” she said, voice taut with concern, looking over his face. “Are you all right? You breathed water, didn’t you?”
He blinked at her, disoriented for a heartbeat, then drew in a deeper breath. The strain eased from his shoulders as an embarrassed, breathless smile tugged at his mouth. Colour deepened along his cheeks in embarrassment and exhaustion.
“I’m- I am okay,” he cleared his throat, forcing a steadier inhale. “I’m sorry.”
She hissed softly, half a scold. “Do not apologize. It happens. A rookie mistake.”
His ears flicked back, sheepish.
Her expression softened immediately after, mouth curving into a small, reassuring smile.
That was when she noticed her hands. Pale teal fingers, still bracketed his dark blue cheeks, a thumb resting far too close to the corner of his mouth. Heat surged up her neck in an instant. She pulled back too sudden, clearing her throat and humming under her breath as if that might smooth over the sudden awareness burning through her.
“Did you inhale much?” she asked, eyes returning to his face, deliberately focused.
He shook his head, gaze dropping. “Only the first breath. Then I held it.” A pause. “Thank you. For helping me.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she replied, waving it away with a small flick of her wrist. “You’re here to learn.”
She studied him for a moment longer, thoughtful, then added carefully, “But… you might need a bit more guidance on breathing, and letting the water carry you. I do not think you trust it, or your body, enough yet.”
His shoulders dipped, the hint of shame flashing across his expression.
She didn’t like it.
O’txoa leaned closer again, nudging his shoulder as his eyes lifted back to hers. “You weren’t doing badly, Neteyam,” she said, warm and sure. “Eywa didn’t shape you for the sea. I wouldn’t expect even the strongest Metkayina to move like Kiri does. And Lo’ak has a very… enthusiastic teacher helping him.”
Neteyam huffed a laugh, glancing downward to the sea, then back to the maruis, before looking at her again.
“You noticed too?”
O’txoa snorted, rolling her eyes. “I have been asking Tsireya about your forests since the day she began teaching you. All I ever hear is Lo’ak this, Lo’ak that. How brave he is. How fast he learns. How cute he looks when he nearly drowns.”
Neteyam’s focus didn’t drift, an indulgent smile on his face as he listened intently. Her skin prickled pleasantly under his attention. Swallowing, she mustered up the courage remaining. She just saved his life, she supposed, she should be able to ask a question.
“Could you tell me about them?” she asked, eyes darting away in hesitance. “The animals. Your clan.”
When she looked back, his grin widened, and he gave her a once over. “You want to hear about the forest?”
Her certainty wavered just a touch, feeling suddenly very hot. “Well… your ikran is beautiful. And the weaving the Wind Traders bring is always stunning. I hear pieces of stories… but never from someone who’s lived there.”
Neteyam opened his mouth to answer-
“O’TXOA!”
The shout cracked across the inlet and she froze. Her head snapped toward the sound, heart dropping straight into her stomach.
“What in Eywa’s name are you doing? I told you to stay put!”
O’emey’s voice was sharp with fury, carrying easily over the water. O’txoa’s ears pinned back instinctively as she saw him veer away from his hunting group, riding Noxu hard toward them. The mood of the inlet shifted immediately, bodies tensing.
Neteyam frowned, reading her posture in an instant. Despite the lingering tightness in his breathing, he shifted, deliberately placing himself half a breath in front of her.
Noxu skidded to a stop several lengths away, water churning violently around his fins. O’emey sat tall on his ilu, jaw clenched, eyes blazing as they locked onto Neteyam. Antxu, blissfully oblivious, chirped cheerfully from the reef edge and swam over, bumping noses with Noxu before circling back to O’txoa. The contrast was absurd.
Neteyam glanced over his shoulder at her as he nodded his head in O’emey’s direction, irritation threading his voice. “You know this skxawng?”
O’emey’s stare was angered; shoulders squared and tail lashing in short, sharp arcs.
The stretch of water between the two boys suddenly felt far too small.
A/n: Kaltxi! As promised, here is the rest of what my end of week writing spritz produced - a little early! I am pretty overwhelmed by some of the love I've been receiving across platforms, and am incredibly greateful for any any all interactions!
Poor Neteyam embarrassing himself in his first proper interaction with O'txoa. I fully expect you guys to have pictured her patting Neteyam's cheeks like seals do with their flippers, by the way. And that pile of fibres in the marui quite genuinely takes up an entire storage nook (and some). It's above her head in height.
(O'emey means well, I swear, but how do you think this is going to turn out?)
Please inform me if you'd like to be added to the tagslist! Any feedback about the writing, story or characters is much appreciated! <3
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan / Metkayina!Original Character
O’txoa te Ao'wahi Malu'ite, raised by her eldest brother, has no firm position in her clan other than as a training rolyu, until her quiet curiosity for the forest people draws her into the current of Neteyam Sully. O’txoa finds herself captivated by the world beyond the waves, and in listening, she becomes an outlet for a certain warrior boy's homesickness.
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 3k
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀 / 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : none!!
last part || series masterlist || next part
2169
O’txoa sat on a low mat near the open side of her family marui, knees drawn loosely to her chest as her tail curled comfortably beside her. Most of her hair fell free down her back in dark, springy curls, still damp from the dip she’d taken a half hour earlier. She worked methodically through a few thin braids herself, fingers quick and practiced, separating sections with habitual ease.
Behind her, O’nun sat close. A small reed band rested between his teeth, holding tension in place as his fingers moved through the braids along her hairline. They had grown out enough to need tightening, and he worked carefully from her temples toward the crown of her head, thumbs gentle despite the heavy press to her scalp, just to make sure they laid precise. He had done this often enough over the years that O’txoa barely felt the tug.
She leaned back into the warmth.
Across from them, O’emey sat cross-legged on the mat, already halfway through a bowl of soup O’nun had made the night before. His hair was loose, wilder than her own, with two braided pieces keeping the rest from falling into his meal. Steam curled faintly from the surface as he shovelled mouthfuls in with barely contained enthusiasm, speaking around the mouthfuls with little concern for clarity.
“I’m telling you,” he insisted, gesturing with his spoon and sloshing broth dangerously close to the rim, “it’s not even far, just past the outer ridge. Aonung spotted it first, but Koro swam around the back and there’s this narrow sand shelf that curves like- like this.” He traced an uneven arc in the air. “Ena’txu says the current there is like a pocket and when we looked, there were those shells, the bumpy purple ones, everywhere.”
O’nun huffed softly through the reed band, fingers never pausing as he tightened another braid. “You’ll choke if you keep talking with your mouth full.”
O’emey simply looked to the band in his older brother’s mouth and then smirked.
“Uhuh.”
“You do realise you weren’t supposed to be out there,” O’nun added with a tired hum.
The younger shrugged, undeterred. “The patrols were already out. It’s safer when the hunters are gone- you said that yourself last week when I watched your meeting with the Ta’unui.”
O’nun shifted the reed band before taking it from his mouth and handing it to O’txoa who tied off a thin braid.
“Ey, safer for the warriors does not mean safe for you.”
His hands moved to the next section of O’txoa’s hair, thumbs smoothing before tightening. She closed her eyes briefly as it smarted, before sending her twin an annoyed look when he muttered under his breath.
“The hunt today should not be dangerous,” O’nun continued, “We’re tracking a small group of akula. They’ve been pressing closer to the reef and hunting ilu calves. We need to know why they’ve moved closer, because we can’t have them settling.”
“No way,” O’nun replied. “There’s at least five in the pod, not even all of our warriors could deal with that. Let along one spunky teen who seems to throw himself into danger every five seconds.”
O’emey splutters, and O’txoa giggles, poking her brother’s leg with her foot. He can’t help but smile when she does, reaching out to grab her ankle, but missing when she pulls back swiftly. His tail flicking playfully, he huffs and turns back to his food.
O’nun shifted, adjusting his stance, then went on, “Ta’tuno will stay close to you while we’re out.
He couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the horror on the boy’s face.
“He’s been helping Aonung, he knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s a fool,” O’txoa quipped, smiling cheekily as she leant back.
“A fool who knows what he’s doing,” O’nun said firmer as he nudged her back to her position, before continuing, “I’ll be up front with Tonowari and Awntan.”
O’emey paused mid-spoonful, looking confused. “What about Pay’am?”
“He’s not hunting today, Rotxo caught a bug and his mate is too busy with the calfs to nurse him.”
The conversation faded at the edges, their voices blending into the gentle morning sounds of the village. The quiet closeness of mornings was something O’txoa had learned not to take for granted, but she was very much looking forward for the day ahead.
She had her own plans.
As a training rolyu, her days were often filled with vocal lessons, tasks, prayer, and repetition. But calfing season had shifted the elders’ attention elsewhere, and it meant she had the rare opportunity for a few weeks of free time. Far more of it than she was used to - especially with her twin beginning to join the hunts. The world was widening for him; pulling him outward, into deeper water and sharper responsibility. For O’txoa, it meant space opening quietly at her back.
Eventually, O’txoa had watched them leave from the marui, absently neatening her tswin braid where it lay over her shoulder. O’emey had been eager, nearly jogging on the spot, especially after O’nun had admitted that there were sights of Otterfin near the reefbreak. Her brother was obsessed with the small, squeaking animals and she could swear he’d nearly doubled over when he’d heard the words leave sempu’s mouth.
The ocean lay quiet beneath the sun, its surface stretched smooth and unbroken. O’txoa let her fingers trail through the water as Antxu skimmed forward, the pads of her hand parting the surface in slow, deliberate arcs. Each touch sent faint ripples outward, quickly swallowed by the calm.
She climbed astride her ilu with effortless balance, legs folded naturally along his sides. Antxu’s dark gray hide caught the light as he moved, his markings flashing in muted patterns whenever he rolled slightly beneath her. He chirruped, content, and O’txoa leaned forward to rest her palm against his neck, grounding the sound with quiet affection.
She guided Antxu toward a stretch of shallower reef where the water shifted from layered blue to clear turquoise, the seabed visible in gentle gradients. Tall reeds grew there, flexible and pale, their lengths bending easily with the current. At her unspoken cue, Antxu slowed, perfectly attuned to her.
She slipped from his back, disengaged her tsaheylu, and she dove.
Water closed over her head, and the world narrowed to blue and motion. Sound dulled instantly, replaced by the hush of the deep. Her body moved with grace, arms and tail working in long, small ribbon movements that wasted no amount of energy.
Below her, Antxu circled, his attention already drawn to a small school of hammerbrow fish flickering nervously near some coral. He angled himself pausing and floating in one position, waiting for the right moment.
Sunlight filtered down in broken shafts, bending and scattering as it passed through rippling currents. It illuminated coral and stone in shifting shades and casted slow-moving patterns across the sandy floor. O’txoa slowed as she reached it, hovering for a breath.
There.
The reeds she sought grew in a sheltered pocket between two outcroppings, short and resilient, their pale green and orange leaves swaying gently.
Her hand found her knife. She worked carefully, cutting only what she needed, leaving enough behind for the plants to regrow. Each length was gathered and tucked into the drawstring bag at her hip. Tsireya had asked her a favour to gather them, busy with her own duties and not able to collect these for her mother Ronal. O’txoa had gladly taken the task. When she finished, she paused, surveying the space to ensure she had disturbed nothing more than necessary.
A sudden flicker of motion caught her eye.
Antxu swept past her, triumphant, a hammerbrow clamped neatly in his jaws. O’txoa laughed soundlessly, bubbles spilling from her nose as she pushed off the reef and angled upward.
She broke the surface with a deep inhale, clear air filling her lungs. Antxu surfaced beside her at once, chirping brightly as he swallowed down his catch. She reached out to rub the smooth skin between his eyes.
“Good hunter,” she praised.
She gathered her braid, reconnected their tsaheylu, and she climbed onto his back, together turning toward Awa’atlu. When they reached the shallows, O’txoa slid from Antxu’s back and pressed a quick kiss to his neck before patting him firmly. Antxu flicked his tail and vanished into the blue.
Inside the Ao’wahi marui, she laid out her gathered goods; reeds meant for the Tsahìk, smooth stones and pieces of driftwood collected earlier for crafting. She had only just begun to sort them when the sound cut through the air.
The horns of Awa’atlu boomed from their high places, invading all areas of the reef.
Her body went still.
O’txoa straightened sharply, ears pinning back as the call echoed. Her tail swayed once behind her, and she abandoned the goods where they lay, moving quickly to the entrance.
Outside, figures were already emerging.
Then she saw them.
Shapes against the sky; five ikran.
Her breath hitched, awe and disbelief colliding so sharply that it left her momentarily unbalanced. She did not pause to think, neglecting to weigh caution to her wild curiosity, and surged forward.
Across the woven paths she flew, feet light and quick, sea-glass top chiming softly with each step. She leapt down onto the open beach. Sand shifted beneath her feet as she landed, one hand instinctively tightening the right side of her tewng as her waytelem swayed in the rising breeze.
The air was alive with motion.
Metkayina warriors were already forming a barrier along the shoreline, bodies locking into place. Wings beat overhead, powerful enough to stir the sand and send ripples racing across the shallows, as the ikran began to land.
O’txoa slowed, suddenly aware of her own smallness.
Her fingers rose without conscious thought to touch the shells decorating the braids sempu had tightened, pressing there to steady herself and anchor her breathing. She tried to slip between the warriors, darting for any gap she could find, but each attempt was gently and firmly blocked. She was too short to see past the line of shoulders and raised weapons, the world reduced to flashes of movement and sound beyond them.
Frustration tightened her chest. She turned toward one of the side beaches-
And then she saw him.
Her sempu.
O’nun stood among the warriors, tall and immovable, his spear planted firmly at his side. The dark lines of his tattoos cut starkly against his skin and, beside him, O’emey stood coiled and alert, every inch the protector, as his tail stilled and his face stuck rigid. They were both part of the ring encircling the ikran and their riders.
Relief flooded her, and O’txoa darted toward them, slipping in front of her taller twin and clutching lightly at O’nun’s arm as she leaned forward, stretching to see. O’emey grumbled, pressing closer as O’nun didn’t flinch even as her weight tugged his arm down an inch.
The forest Na’vi barely registered at first.
They were strange, deep blue skin, lean builds, thinner tails tipped with tufts of fur, but they blurred at the edges of her vision. Her attention was claimed entirely by the ikran.
They were enormous.
Larger than she had ever imagined, their wings folding and flexing with contained power, muscles shifting beneath patterned hides. Low hisses and guttural clicks vibrated through the air as Tonowari and Ronal questioned the newcomers. The sound carried through her chest, resonant and unsettling.
One of them drew her eye immediately.
Its hide was a rich blend of dark teal and turquoise, layered with deep blue and emerald green marbling that reminded her of water flowing over stone. Darker accents traced its joints and wing edges, while a bruised purple crest lined its lower jaw. When it turned its head, its predatory green eyes locked onto her with sudden focus.
Her breath caught.
She took one small step forward without realizing she had moved at all and O’emey’s hand snapped around her arm, yanking her back against him.
“I’m just looking,” O’txoa hissed sharply and twisted free.
Looking back to the ikran, its gaze was still on her. It tilted its head, clicking low in its throat. She tilted her head in return, offering a small smile. It was stunning, nothing like she’d imagine from the Wind Trader’s stories.
A booming voice cut through the moment.
“We are reef people. Your skills mean nothing here,” Olo’eyktan spoke as his wife walked in circles around and through the group of newcomers.
O’txoa’s gaze snapped upward, but instead of watching the scene, she caught on another pair of eyes.
A boy.
He stood near the back of the group, older considering the battle band crossing his torso, and he was watching her openly, amusement flickering across his features. His ears twitched, then angled away as if he had suddenly realized he was staring too.
Heat bloomed faintly.
She stepped back at once, gaze dropping, embarrassed by her own attention. When she dared glance up again, he smiled, brief and easy, before turning his focus elsewhere.
Foolish, she scolded herself. Don’t be a weirdo.
But… he was handsome in a way that was rare in these parts; lean, built for climbing rather than swimming. Her eyes flicked, unbidden, to the largest of the group, noting the difference. There was width in him, the heavy muscle more familiar to her.
Then she noticed the hands of three.
Five fingers.
Her breath left her in a sharp inhale.
Demon blood.
As if Eywa will it to fate, that was the moment the Tsahìk hissed sharp. One of the boys’ ears flatten as the woman snarls, brandishing the teen girl’s hand into the air in derision.
“These children are not even true Na’vi. They have demon blood!”
Hisses from the Metkayina spread, and O’txoa’s ears flattened instinctively. It felt wrong, to condemn a child for their parents’ actions. A pit grew in her stomach. Before she could voice the thought to her sempu, O’emey stepped fully in front of her, a low snarl vibrating in his chest as he shielded with his body.
She hissed again, annoyance flashing. She looked up at her sempu for support... but O’nun had gone rigid. His gaze was locked on the newcomers, brow furrowed, expression closed as something unmovable worked behind his eyes.
Then, without a word, he stepped forward with the other warriors, placing himself closer to Tonowari. O’txoa’s feet itched to follow, but she stayed where she was, beside O’emey, knowing the boundary she could not cross. If he wanted, her twin could go with him, but he chose to stay. Because she was an observer, singer and witness. She was no warrior.
This Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, pleaded his family’s case. He lifted his youngest child into his arms, holding her small head against his shoulder.
The tension stretched long and unyielding.
Somehow, through presence alone, Tonowari convinced Ronal to allow the newcomers a chance. With a nod, the Olo’eyktan turned to the crowd of his people;
“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us,” unease and relief ripped through the crowd, both, “Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”
In quick decision, Tsireya was summoned by her parents.
O’txoa bit back a smile as she watched her friend light up, eagerness written across her face as she was tasked with escorting the outsiders to an empty marui. She knew that Tsireya had been yearning for something new, something beyond the familiar day to day of the reef. This was everything to her.
Before O’txoa could protest, or even think to follow, O’emey caught her arm and began steering her firmly back toward their marui, grumbling about danger, outsiders, and her complete lack of caution.
“We’re done here,” he said firmly. “Come on.”
She glanced back once more, but the boy didn't look back. Watching the group gather into the village, in her head a verse began to build, awfully curious and completely new.
A/n: Kaltxi! This is a shorter chapter, as I realised I'd written too much and have had to half it so that they stay semi equal in length. Honestly, I adore this little family and am thrilled to finally move onto the main plot of Way of the Water and get to know Neteyam and the Sully children. God knows how I'm managing to get any of this written enough to be legible, as most of it is being written at night while I'm fuelled by tea alone. The amount of editing I had to do to get even this out was abysmal. Early days, but because I've already got the next part written it will come sooner!
Oh, and in this AU Rotxo and Rolo are brothers, and Ronal's sister's children. I thought it'd be neat to make them cousins, as it would make sense as to why Rotxo was standing with Aonung and his family in a few background shots of WOTW.
Please inform me if you'd like to be added to the tagslist! Any feedback about the writing, story or characters is much appreciated! <3
Currently editing the next chapters of my Neteyam / OC series We will be okay, and I'm dying. I wrote like 4k last night while sleep deprived and clearly I was delirious because what the hell is a Krikri!?
...Kiri.
I referred to Kiri as Krikri for two entire chapters.
the worst quality i have is probably that whenever i see someone's na'vi oc and they have a name that isn't conform to the rules of na'vi language it bothers me. like i don't say anything but it bothers me
I think that just the biggest point would be that the ' (glottal stop) cannot go between two consonants, but I frequently see it used between them. I have to hold back from saying "Your name literally can't be said!"
Actually, there's a lot of interesting stuff within the language, but for names I recommend anyone who's confused to read a post called "How to use tìftang" by nattikay. It's a more simplified explanation that helped when I was first learning.
I really like your other fic so far, but am BEGGING for more Aonung fics on this website 🙏🙏
Your belief undoes your disbelief ➶ request
Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan / Human! Reader
"..You just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief" Anne Sexton
Aonung used to make fun of her clear shell; tapping the glass in a way of both belittling her and making his disgust at her presence known. However, when it's gone and she no longer reacts the way she used to, he can't help but continue the tradition.
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 5.8k
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀 / 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : essentially aonung x fem!spider, hurt with comfort, author is addicted to writing angst of at least some form, aonung being an asshole, one-sided enemies... to lovers, a whole lot of denial on his part, intimacy and first kisses
main masterlist ࿔༄ this fic on ao3 ࿔༄
Aonung could tell by the water how a day would end up being.
Lately, the lagoon refused to decide. One moment it shimmered like polished shell, smooth and promising, and the next it broke into restless lines, small ripples chasing one another as if Eywa kept changing her mind. The roots of Awa’atlu creaked softly as the tide shifted, marui swaying on their woven tethers and bumping together with hollow clacks. Somewhere deeper in the lagoon, an ilu whistled, answered by another farther out near the reef break.
Normally, mornings this quiet belonged to Aonung.
He would shatter the stillness by racing Roxto across the docks, diving from the highest root just to hear the gasp behind him, staying under the coral shelves longer than anyone else. He’d boast about the game he would hunt that day; bigger, faster, better than whatever the other boys managed. He liked winning mornings. Liked being seen doing it.
But now?
Now there was a problem.
The problem was pink.
After the battle with the sky people, the one that left Neteyam Sully dead, the forest family returned to the sea broken and bleeding, carrying grief in heavy shroud. Tulkun blood had darkened the waves and songs had been sung low and heavy as their son was laid into the water with the ancestors.
And with them, impossibly, they had brought her.
A little sky person. A girl.
Aonung’s jaw tightened every time he spotted that wrong splash of colour moving through the village. They were supposed to be killing demons, not collecting them. Many Na’vi had died in that fight, and yet Toruk Makto’s family had dragged one of the enemy back to Awa’atlu like a prized trophy.
She existed loudly, even when she did nothing at all.
She was strange colour that darkened the more she was in the sun, moving through turquoise and teal. She wore Na’vi beads that didn’t quite sit right on her narrow shoulders or over her front, and bright blue stripes were painted onto here skin that didn’t deserve them. And her hair - Eywa, her hair. It fell in a tangled spill, collected badly with beads meant for braids, not… whatever mess that was. Aonung had seen ilu nests with more structure, and they'd long since abandoned the ordeal.
She looked ridiculous. She was, in existence, ridiculous.
She shouldn't exist.
But she did... and now she was in his village, offending his eyes just by breathing.
They were vaguely introduced one afternoon when Lo’ak and Kiri were teaching the girl about living with the Metkayina. They called her their sister, which was ridiculous enough to make Aonung scoff out loud.
He made his disinterest known immediately.
He curled his lip, crossed his arms, and squared his shoulders; made himself bigger, meaner, and unmistakably unimpressed. He poured every bit of disgust he felt straight into his posture and stared down his nose at her embarrassingly weak figure.
For some reason… it didn’t work.
She gave him a once-over, those weird little hair-things over her eyes lifting as her face mirrored his distaste perfectly. Then she snorted softly through that clear shell of hers and- she ignored him. Ignored him.
The little demon beat him to ignoring first!
Aonung, son of the Olo’eyktan, was not used to being overlooked, especially by a sky demon dressed up in Na'vi clothing and wearing it like cheap festival ribbons.
After that, she didn’t give him the light of day. She walked past him, around him, and through the village as if he were just another bit of driftwood.
It was simply unacceptable.
So, he began doing what came naturally to him; poking.
Constantly.
He poked fun at her all the time, and he damn well made sure his friends were there to back him up. He'd comment, loudly, on how she walked on the marui paths like she might fall off at any moment, scoffed at the way she struggled with water, exaggerated her splashes, and mimicked her clumsy dives behind her back. He would make faces when she spoke Na'vi too, despite her being just as fluent as Kiri or Lo'ak, repeating her words with enough failure to make his friends snort with laugher.
They called her sky demon; pink hands; glass-face; no-tail.
What annoyed him most, though, was how little she seemed to care. She didn't cry, or run, and didn't rise to it the way she should have. Sky people were monsters, demons, and he knew it was in their nature to fight back and be aggressive and dominate. He was certain he knew she would one day hurt him, attack him, prove him right because of course he was. But, instead, she just shot him flat looks, muttered sharp insults, and kept moving; chin up, shoulders stiff and stubborn as a reef rock.
Unfortunately, having her on his mind made him notice other things.
Like the way her tewng sat a little too low on her hips, tied with these stringed reeds woven in braids ending in light shiny beads, clinking with a light jingle as she walked and they moved from side to side. He could tell when she was near with only a single step, his ears twitching towards the sound and an easy, sharp smirk cutting across his face in reflex, ready to let loose any insults on his tongue. And the way that her tops covered barely anything, her nasty tawtute blood meaning the weavers clearly weren't used to, or just didn't care enough to, make bigger pieces. Eventually, she stopped wearing them and began wearing cloth wraps. It was a muted disappointment, and one that made his hands twitch and mouth turn in even more disgust. That ridiculous grey wrap and the colourful, shell-lined tewng made it obvious that the stupid human didn't care for how the People (he) sees her.
Ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous.
He hissed his distaste as she passed one morning, arms full of gathered water reeds that he'd watched her spend the earliest hours collecting by herself. Her hands were visibly sore, and her arms trained under the weight. Why none of her 'family' were helping was besides the point, she'd clearly done just fine.
"Watch it, sky demon," he snarled.
She hadn't stopped, but she'd turned her head and scowled at him with those wrong eyes that made his skin prickle under them.
“Forest demon,” she shot back, emphasizing the word with cutting, practiced emphasis. She bared her blunt, useless teeth at him before turning to continue shouldering past, reeds rustling as she walked away without looking back, even as his friends laughed and jeered at her tailless body and tiny stature.
Moreover, almost as if it was just to spite him, she still refused to tell him her name.
(... not that he'd asked)
Everyone else called her this "Spaítar" thing.
"Duh," Tsireya had sighed when he complained, "Spaí-duh."
Aonung made a face.
"That cannot be her name."
She rolled her eyes. "Skxawng."
Worse still, when he finally convinced Tsireya to tell him more, she admitted Spaítar wasn’t even the girl’s real name! He was right. Again. Yet, she still refused to tell him what the true one was, claiming he bothered the "poor girl" too much and would only use it to get under her skin.
Which was entirely correct, but that was besides the point.
So, the poking continued.
He didn’t go out of his way to find her - he just happened to bump into her a lot. And if the dumb demon made the mistake of walking past him, Aonung would have great pleasure to take the honestly-way-too-easy opportunity to poke the stupid front of her face-breathing thing. His finger struck it with a dull clunk, and her head jerked back every time, startled, before her eyes would snap up to meet his.
This time was no different, and the look she gave him as her eyes met his could only be described as the dirtiest dregs of emotion she could possibly muster.
She hissed through those dull, absolutely useless, teeth. Aonung and his friends laughed, and he tilted his head, nose scrunching as her scent wafted into his direction. Warm spice, overlaid by the clean, bleeding smell of water reed. He sniffed again when she realised she'd continued in the wrong direction, glaring determined at her feet and where she placed them as she stormed past.
"Blue, brainless bully," she grumbled, voice muffled behind the mask, little tewng swaying and jingling with every furious step.
Aonung watched her go, chest tight with victory and irritation at once, the memory of warm spice settling the two into calm.
࿔༄
Jake Sully stood before Tonowari with his head high and his hands curled tight at his sides, decision firm and voice level. The Olo’eyktan listened in silence, brows lifting just slightly as his surprise muted, before he inclined his head and accepted it. That was that. There was no arguing from Aonung's father, and his mother simply didn't pay much attention to the conversation at all.
The tawtute was being sent back to the forest.
Aonung watched from a distance, arms folded. He didn’t understand why Toruk Makto had fought so hard to keep her when she first arrived if he was to send her away. And, further, why he'd do so after father had warmed to her. Tonowari had said, offhandedly once, that the girl worked hard, helped with the children, learned quickly, and was becoming a good member of the village. At the time, Aonung had choked on his food and scowled at his bowl.
Yet, now, she was leaving.
Judging by the raised voices spilling from the Sully marui, it wasn’t a decision the children agreed with. Lo’ak’s anger cracked sharp through the woven walls and Kiri’s voice followed, louder and fiercer. Even Tuk sounded upset as he heard the Demon plead her case in painful, desperate begs, only to be cut off by a muffled hiss.
Aonung just didn't understand.
The kids called her their sister, Touk Makto had even bared his teeth when he had defended her right to stay, citing her as claimed family.
So, when Aonung watched them prepare to leave, packs tightened and ikran restless as they gathered to meet the Wind Traders, his thoughts snagged on quiet memories of the last month. The girl collecting her own weeds at dawn, always waking before the rest of the family and slipping in and out without disturbing them; Eating alone, sometimes accompanied by Kiri but never too loud when the marui was full; Weaving baskets by herself in the heat of day, and praying at night outside, her voice soft and steady as she sang for Neteyam, never once stepping inside to be with the mourning mother.
Looking at it from that distance now, he almost understood.
"Spaítar" had never really been part of them. No matter how she puffed her chest or said the words. She was a floater, caught between currents that she didn't belong to and were never meant to keep her.
Not long after, Neytiri and Jake took her away with the Wind Traders, kindness only seen in how they acted as personal escorts to make sure she got to wherever she was being sent.
Away.
After that, the morning waters never settled again.
When the news came that the Mangkwan had attacked the Wind Traders, Tsireya was beside herself, pacing and biting at her nails, eyes flicking anxiously to the horizon. Aonung didn’t know what to think. There was nothing from the Sullys; no word of safety, but just as much there was no word of loss. Not a single sign that their strange little barnacle had survived. For months that stretched impossibly long, there was only silence.
Then they came back.
First without the girl, and then, in the dead of night, with her.
This time, though, she was different. The tawtute could breathe. It was wrong and unnatural, and yet Eywa must've allowed it, or else the demon wouldn't have been standing on the beach, walking and talking, instead of dead beneath it. The glass-shell that she'd used to cover her face, and he'd used to annoy her, was gone.
Aonung watched from afar, alone this time, as Kiri taught her to ride an ilu, and the rumour that she'd also grown a tswin was proved true. The sky demon, pink-hand, ridiculous girl was connected, physically, to Eywa herself. Her strange eyes lit up every time she succeeded at something that should have been impossible, and she clung to Kiri at every opportunity, laughing and alive in a way that hurt to watch.
Her joy was loud, but she was quieter.
When she walked through Awa'atlu now, her shoulders drew inwards instead of squared and her chin didn't raise to meet anyone's eyes. She wore the same wraps, the same tewng, but it didn't jingle anymore. She walked too slowly, legs moving too shortly, for the beads to trike one another. Further, when he shouted a comment or two across the shallows, she didn't even look up.
He disliked it.
She was supposed to glare at him. He was supposed to know where she was before he saw her, feel her presence ring in his ears and hook into his chest, tugging him to look at her. He'd liked that. Turning just in time to sneer as she passed, watching the funny hair over her eyes furrow and her useless teeth bare, her words sharp and meant for him.
Now he got nothing.
At least, he told himself, he no longer heard her praying outside the marui at night, her lilting voice drifting on the wind and her stupid scent bothering him enough to force him to sit awake and listen. He told himself, forced himself, to believe that it truly was irritation that kept him up on those nights, and greedily taking in something abnormally sacred.
Toruk Makto lingered closer to her than before, hovering and reaching out to steady her as she moved from place to place, being almost as overbearing as a first time parent. Aonung was certain that the man didn't bother Tuk in the same way, and the way that she should tense and glance, uncertain, at Jake as he supported her made an ugly feeling gather in the pit of his stomach.
There was a new scar on her neck.
Neytiri, the fierce woman who reminded him of his own mother and hated sky people just as much, had changed too. Her ears still pinned back, but her nose no longer scrunched in distaste and there was a hesitance in her body when she interacted with the girl under her care; instead of avoiding her in morning and evenings, she brought her inside to eat with the family - making sure with short, firm words that the tawtute didn't forget to come indoors instead of lingering on the outside of their lives.
"Spaítar" was clearly now, due some unspoken change, considered apart of the family.
...And not.
Only this time it was not the Sullys who seemed disturbed by affections and the demon's presence in their home. It was her.
Aonung watched the restless water and clenched his jaw, realising with a fierce, unwelcome twist that he didn't like it one bit. So, he begins to keep an eye on her. Well, moreso than he had already.
He doesn't watch openly, just from... wherever he happens to be. Sharpening spear tips until they sing, or sorting tsurak tacks for his father, hauling bundles along the marui paths with the other boys or simply coming back from a hunt. His eyes drift, inevitably, to that wrongness moving through Awa’atlu.
She goes about her tasks quietly now. Almost completely mute when she isn’t with the Sully children. Focused and smaller somehow, no songs in the night he could deal with but no humming in the day felt a step too far. And when she’s with the adults, Jake and Neytiri, there’s a tight, careful happiness to her. When she does something right, she'll look up, hopeful. What looks back could only be described as raw, unfiltered guilt.
Whatever happened on that base when Jake had been taken, when Neytiri ran to retrieve him and came back with the girl in tow, it changed them completely. It wasn't right before, and in many ways it was better, but in others it was impossibly worse.
So, Aonung started doing the watching on purpose.
He adjusted his path so he'd cross hers, he'd linger longer than needed and say no to hanging out with Roxto just to see if she was ducking into the marui for the night or staying out. He made sure that he could see what the strange tawtute is doing and how she was doing it.
So, when she finally passed right by him, head down and steps careful, he decided he didn't care anymore whether she reacted the "right" way.
Impulse took over.
He reached out and poked her face.
This time, there was no dull clunk and no jolt back, just softness beneath his finger; warm and alive.
There was a silent moment where their eyes met, and they stood, frozen. She blinked. He blinked back, tail going still, ears twitching as his brain scrambled to catch up with what his hand had just done.
Then her head darted forward and her mouth snaped shut with a sharp clack of blunt teeth.
Aonung swore as he yanked his finger back, heart kicking hard against his ribs and stomach flipping.
She stared at him like he’d completely lost his mind. But she was looking at him, eye hairs furrowed and teeth still on show. A laugh burst out of him before he could stop it, a scoff turning into a smirk as he darted forward and tried to poke her again.
She dodged with a startled yelp. "What is wrong with you?!" she demanded, twisting away. "What are you even trying to- DO?!"
“Oh no you don’t,” he muttered, lunging.
She was smaller, quicker than he expected, slipping out of his reach with a sharp laugh as she ducked around him. He chased with no real movement, nearly tripping over his feet in circles, grumbling louder with every miss.
"For Eywa's sake- just- stand still!"
She didn't.
And when she finally snapped back at him, poking his side, slapping at his arm in retaliation, his frustration cracked into laughter, low and breathless. Her yells dissolved into it too.
He caught her hand at last, fingers closing around her wrist as he yanked her closer, a fierce, triumphant grin splitting his face. "Got you-"
He reached for her cheek again.
She slipped free like water and swept his leg out from under him.
"Hey-!"
The world tilted. He yelped, flailing, and went straight off the marui path and into the lagoon with a splash that sent ripples skittering across the calm surface.
Aonung surfaced sputtering, shaking water from his braids and curls as he treaded water, flushed and breathless. He looked up just in time to see her peering over the edge.
For a second, she just looked at him.
Then she waved and turned away.
"You’re dead for that!" he shouted after her, grumbling hiss sounding from his chest even as a fluttering warmth danced in his lungs.
Her voice floated back to him, muffled but clear.
"You started it, asshole!"
Aonung sank back slightly in the water, still flushed and breathless. He scowled darkly at it; even the water betrays him.
After that, Aonung didn't hide his interest in the sky demon anymore. Sure, he still attempted to tell himself it was wrong. Wrong that she was there at all and wrong that she could breathe like them now, that she moved through water without struggle because Eywa herself had apparently bent the rules for her. She wore her clothes improperly, ties at her hips that was practical first and traditional second, and wraps instead of actual Metkayina tops. Wrong that her hair remained a disaster no matter how much effort she was clearly beginning to attempt to put into it; an impossible mess that only the most stubborn, determined people would even attempt to fight.
But.
He liked her.
He liked that she pulled her weight without complaint, and moreover that his father liked it. He liked how she worked until her arms shook and, while he still felt uncomfortable watching her light up under the smallest amount of praise, he liked when she smiled as she was told she did well. He liked, most of all, that when she looked at him now, she met his eyes again.
So, he poked her cheek every time he saw her.
He’d brush past, reach down, tap the soft fullness of her cheek, and keep walking. A quick press of his finger to her skin, just enough to annoy. He'd toss a quipped insult over to her as they parted ways (tawtute freak, nest hair, little demon, skxawng magnet- though that last one backfired on him). But, the words didn’t have the same venom anymore. He just couldn’t summon the disgust he used to feel.
Not when the tingle across his skin was pleasant and uncharted instead of sharp and angry when her eyes landed on him. Not when her glare warmed him like drinking a bowl of broth after a long swim. Not when he caught himself watching her wrestle her hair into submission in the mornings, back arching just right, arms tensing as she reached up to loop the ties, breath puffing out in quiet frustration. The mess of it all should have annoyed him, but instead it made his chest turn heavy and his mouth dry.
And certainly not when he began to, once again, hear her before he saw her.
The soft, familiar jingle of beads at her hips.
His ears would twitch and a smile would tug at his mouth before he could stop it. He’d wait exactly two seconds, just enough to time it right, then turn, reach down, poke her cheek, and smirk when her hand swatted his arm. She'd roll her eyes at the childishness, or stoop to his level and show him her middle finger, and continue on.
His gaze followed her, low and unashamed.
A chuckle would escape him as he shook his head, usually muttering something about the tawtute being a tease, biting at his lip before forcing himself back to whatever task he was supposed to be caring about doing.
Because of those small interactions, he didn’t feel the need to keep track of her constantly. He was comfortable knowing she’d cross his path eventually, and she always did. Exhausting, predictable little demon.
Roxto noticed first.
They’d be walking past a marui, and the faint sound of hanging wind-chimes would sound, and Aonung’s ears would prick instantly; his mouth already curving, eyes scanning for the shade of her skin.
Roxto snorted. "You're obvious."
Koro was less kind. "Pxasìk," he muttered, face sour.
Aonung hissed at both of them, bristling as his tail whipped the air. "Shut up, I'm not interested in that demon freak."
Which would have sounded more convincing if he hadn’t been staring past them, clearly still searching for her. One of the most obvious lies he's ever told, and he wasn't proud of it.
The seed had been planted into his mind anyway, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She was small, sure, but she had a tswin and she was the perfect size to be able to pick up and protect but also defend herself if need be. And she now had a tattoo, so she was old enough. Strong, too, for her kind. Those reeds she used to haul in by herself would’ve been difficult even for him to harvest all alone. She wasn't afraid to hiss or insult the Olo'eyktan's son, either.
Plus, she was… pretty.
More than pretty.
Aonung was actually convinced that, despite being saddled with that stupid nickname, Spaítar (unbelievably ugly, in his opinion), she must be out-of-this-world beautiful to sky demons.
Which meant she was the best of them.
And Aonung only accepted the best.
Sure, her hair was... a thing- and she desperately needed an actual, proper top. But those were fixable problems. Easy ones, even. Give him some time, some effort, and she’d be the perfect little mate.
The thought hit him like a slap.
Oh, Eywa.
Roxto was right.
࿔༄
The night refused to let Aonung sleep.
The waters were more than restless, and his sleeping area kept being battered by small waves, just cold enough in the night breeze to be unpleasant. His mother shifted restlessly, breath catching now and then as another wave of pregnancy discomfort rolled through her. His father slept curled around her, asleep and unaware. His sister, he knew, was sleeping with friends in the communal pods. Aonung lay awake, staring at the woven ceiling, counting the spaces between the knots and failing to quiet the restlessness under his skin.
Then; a scent.
It drifted in on the air, faint at first, then unmistakable.
His chest tightened as deja vu washed over him, welcomed and comforting. He hadn’t smelled her like this in weeks. Not since before everything changed and she'd stopped sitting outside the Sully marui at night, voice lifted in quiet prayer that always found him whether he wanted it to or not.
His tail gave an unconscious wag before he could stop it.
Aonung swallowed and carefully rolled onto his side, peering out through the opening of the marui.
She sat where she used to; just outside, knees pulled in and shoulders hunched. The glow of distant bioluminescence caught on her skin, softening her edges and turning her to a blurred dream-like image. Her hands came up again and again, wiping at her face in sharp, frustrated motions.
She was crying.
Aonung’s tail, which had been active in a slow, hopeful wag, stilled completely. His ears pinned back tight against his head. He watched her shoulders hitch, the way she pressed her knuckles to her mouth between every sob. No song or prayer, just quiet, shaking breaths.
He swallowed, throat tight, eyes flicking briefly toward his family, before drifting back to the small, trembling figure outside.
He didn't think.
The night air cooled his skin as he stepped out, feet silent on the woven path. He approached slowly, uncertain, every instinct screaming that this was not something he knew how to do.
She noticed him only when his shadow crossed the glow near her feet, and her head snapped up, eyes wide and shining, tears still clinging stubbornly to her lashes.
"Shit," she sniffed, swiping at her face again. "You’re-uh-sorry, I didn’t mean to-"
Oh, Aonung was out of his depth.
This was very much not his territory.
"Sitting out here all dramatic again?" he said, because he's a skxawng and he should never have gotten up and walked over here, "Missed the attention, tawtute?"
It was the wrong thing.
She stared at him for a moment, eyes darting to his pinned back ears and the stillness of his tail. And then, somehow, a laugh slipped out.
"Wow," she echoed weakly, "You're terrible at this."
He'd never been so thankful of his exposing body language.
He huffed with a tired smirk, sitting down beside her anyway, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. "I am excellent at this. You’re just… extra sad."
She snorted, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. "I figured."
Silence settled, the waters lapping softly against mangrove roots below.
Aonung tilted his head, eyes flicking to her. "You know," he said, casually, "I saw you and Lo’ak fishing earlier."
She immediately cringed, and he grinned.
"You couldn't haul a net straight if it saved your life. I still can't figure out how you got stuck inside it."
She groaned. "How did you even see that?!"
"It doesn't even have a close," he combatted, smugly.
She grumbled, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Oh yeah? Well, I heard your brain-dead hunk friends arguing about which end of a spear was sharp today."
Aonung scoffed. "First of all, if I’m the leader of the hunks, that makes me the best-looking one. And-"
She gave him a look so unimpressed it nearly wounded his pride.
Nearly, only because her gaze lingered, down and up, before she laughed. Aonung felt the smirk spread on his face… only for it to sober at the sight of tears clinging stubbornly to her lashes and the sound of a small sniffle she tried to hide.
"Did you come out here to pray?" he asked, quieter now, "You can visit him in the cove whenever you want, you know. Even if you are a dumb tawtute and the ancestors will be confused as to why you're there."
She didn't laugh, but shook her head. "No. I just... needed space."
He grumbled, frowning out at the water. "To cry by yourself? That’s stupid."
She looked at him, a weak smile tugging at her mouth. "See? Terrible."
They sat in silence for a little longer, Aonung's waiting gaze on the side of her face. He didn't argue this time, or poke or tease.
Eventually she sighed, shaky.
"It is stupid," she said quietly. "I have a tswin now. I can finally connect with Eywa. I've wanted that so badly my whole life." Her fingers curled into the path below her knees. "But I’ll always be… other."
She turned her head and lifted her hands took at the grains of sand stuck to her palm, brushing them off in frustration.
"I’ll never be enough. No matter how much J-" She stopped, swallowed hard, looking pained. "No matter how much Jake tells me I’m his daughter now, I’ll never be able..."
Her voice trailed off and her mouth pressed shut, jaw tight, fixed stubbornly on the dark water ahead as if she could will the thought away by not giving it sound.
Aonung understood there was more, but for once he didn't push.
A few tears gathered anyway, slipping free as she awkwardly chuckled and wiped them away. The silence stretched wide, strung by everything she hadn’t said. His eyes didn’t leave her, trained on the curve of her cheek, the warmth of her now-damp skin, and the shine of her eyes reflecting the soft lights of his own complexion.
In the quiet, his soul surrendered itself to her.
He thought of the first time he’d seen her and had felt only disbelief. But now, all of his misunderstanding and refusal rooted in hatred and fear, unravelled for the final time. He realised he believed in her; her strength, her work and her stubborn, aching want to belong. It reached now and closed around him, steady and certain, undoing the last of his doubt.
To him, she was one of the People.
Sure, maybe she'd never be it in the way the Sully children were able to, not so easily or well-fitting, yet she still managed to be. She was new, something formed between the warring currents and riptides, but she clearly did not feel like she was allowed to exist in these waters at all.
He had fallen in love with her just as inevitably as the tide would turn.
Her eyes were so lovely; lashes clumped with drying tears, vulnerable in a way that made anything of common sense die uselessly on his tongue. Aonung swallowed, gaze tracing her profile as she faced the sea.
"I see you," he said, the defenceless words slipping before he could hold his tongue.
She turned to him in shock.
"...What?"
Oh, Eywa, he was terrible at this.
Trust him to be brilliant at everything else under the sun, but the second he's had arguably the biggest realisation of his life he fumbles.
He opened his mouth, body tensing as his instinct surges to backpedal; defend himself and pretend it meant nothing. She's a tawtute, maybe she didn't understand the weight of-
She surged upward and her lips met his.
It was clumsy, and a little too hard, but his heartbeat roared in his ears and his face burned as he swallowed and moved to lean into it. Before he could, she pulled back, eyes wide like she couldn't believe she'd done that either.
His eyes were slow blinking as they found her again.
She drew a breath, clearly about to say something, but Aonung didn't let her. He couldn't allow the pretty demon to beat him again.
He leaned forward and kissed her back, cutting off any words forming. His large teal hand slipped up to settle just below the heavy spill of her hair and cradle the line of her neck and jaw. The kiss was still unpracticed, a naive push and pull, but it deepened as his confidence surged.
She made a quiet sound against his mouth, breathy and needy, and he couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him. He kissed her again, slower this time. His other hand slid to her waist, careful, drawing her closer until she was nearly sat on his thigh, fitting right where she belonged.
When he finally pulled back for air, he lingered. He leant his forehead against hers, breath laboured as he pressed small, lingering pecks to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and the line of her jaw.
A question rose quickly, then.
A particularly important one.
His eyes were half-lidded as he looked at her through dark lashes. "Sevin," he murmured, breaking through the heat of their heavy pants, voice rough. "What is your true name?"
She took a breath, leaning into him as he pressed another soft kiss to her jaw and his thumb traced slow, grounding circles at her side. He's being patient.
She smirked faintly. "What, you don’t like Spider?"
He grumbled in response, burying his nose against her neck in wordless protest and nipping her ear as punishment. She huffed out a laugh... but then she went quiet.
A beat passed.
"…Y/n," she said softly.
Aonung lifted his head to look at her face. She was apprehensive as she stared back, body tense and frozen. Silly demon, there was no need for that.
He hummed, the sound warm and pleased, with a smile on his mouth as leaned in to kiss her again. The word settled firm beside his heart.
"Y/n," he breathed, testing the name against her lips between kisses. "Much better."
.
A/n: Kaltxi! I hope everyone has had a good day and the start to the week hasn't been too traumatic. Honestly, I had no idea how to go about getting a human to Awa'atlu in a way that would make sense, so fem!Spider is how I got around that. Had to pop out my handy dandy poetry board for a reference title here and hit the jackpot with Anna Sexton. I've never written for Aonung before (and certainly didn't expect him to be my first request - thank you wholehearedly for requesting at all!) so, apologies if anything doesn't feel like a canon reaction. It was fun, though, to think about why Aonung of all characters would end up with a human. As you can see by the word count, I eventually fell in love with this duo and I will be consuming mass amounts of Aonung fics from now on.
"Your hair is impossible," Aonung snarled after snapping a third comb clean in half.
"Is the great prince of the reef struggling up there?"
"Behave, Sevin. I am being generous."
She snorted.
"It's fine if you can't do it, 'nung. Don't get your tswin in a bunch, I can ask Tsireya to help."
He scoffs, "I am the best hunter in our clan. Your hair will submit."
Another snap sounds out from the mass behind her head and Y/n tries desperately not to laugh.
"You know what? That's it," Aonung declares, "This.. thing is the real demon- I'm cutting it all off. You're starting over."
Friendly reminder that without Spider withstanding literal torture and borderline mind r@pe everyone at High Camp would be dead.
Friendly reminder that without Spider Quaritch would have murdered all of this Na'vi villagers when searching for Jake in the islands.
Friendly reminder that without Spider crashing the sea dragon at the end of ATWOW the Battle would have been a billion times worse, and the Metkayina people and the Sullies may not even have won it at all.
Friendly reminder that without Spider talking down Quaritch in the stand off, Kiri would be dead.
Friendly reminder that without Spider stalling the Mangkwan warrior during the wind trader raid in AFAA Kiri and Tuk would also be dead.
Friendly reminder that without Spider being in danger Jake never would have convienced Quaritch to team up with him to find the kids, and he'd be executed by the RDA instead.
Friendly reminder that without Spider using his own body as a shield Jake would have never escaped the RDA at the end of AFAA and be shot dead instead.
Friendly reminder that without Spider talking down Quaritch once AGAIN during the final fight Jake would also be dead.
And all of this ain't even going into his meta importance. His capture is what kickstarted the plot of ATWOW and caused the Sullies to seek Uturu in the reefs. His relationship with Quaritch and the fact he saved him enables Quaritch's character to even exist. His existance is cruicial to Neytiri's development and hatred. His newfound ability to breathe the air and connect to Eywa helps show us a possible future for humanity. His very being is a parallel to Jake while being a challange to him and the viewer.
So if you ever see someone say that Spider is unimportant to the plot of Avatar feel free to send them this post. Because not only are they wrong and incredibly disingenuous, the whole franchise they so love would rip apart at the seams without Spider in it.
