s: You slip into a world where androids rule the Earth and humans have fled to the moon. Despite your constant requests to go home, you have a feeling the androids aren’t too keen on helping you.
cw: rape/non-con, yandere oc x reader, dddne, captivity, isekai, dark content ahead
wc: 4.7k
co-written with @envy-of-the-apple ♥ read on ao3 here
(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)
[NieR masterlist]
[next]
In your universe, accidentally falling into another is pretty common.
You never fully understood the science behind it, but in your world, cracks lingered everywhere. An object, an animal, or even a person slipping through was not unheard of.
It happened often enough that a system was created to retrieve those who slip. Warnings are issued throughout the city whenever there’s a ‘reality tear’ in Central Park. Certain places of the world are permanently closed off from humanity. Schools make drills educating children on what to do if they’re ever trapped in another universe, alone. The world does whatever it can to protect society and the people from slipping into another world, lost forever.
Slipping isn’t an inevitability, but it’s a possibility. Like getting into a car accident, or getting stuck outside in a hurricane. It’s something to prepare for.
So when you woke up underneath a bright blue sky, away from your bed, your apartment, your town, your entire universe, you weren’t wholly unprepared.
It’s not that you weren’t surprised. It took you an hour to finally give up the delusion that you’re dreaming. Another hour later and you were finally starting to realize this new world played a whole lot differently than your old one.
Firstly, there were no people.
You walked around for what felt like years now, and yet, there was no hint of humanity. No sign of intelligent life. No roads, no cars, no telephone towers in the far distance. There were just trees and plains and valleys. Back home, this would be a rarity. A place untouched by civilization.
But there were remnants of it.
At first you thought it was a piece of furniture–decayed and rotting in the middle of a random clearing. It wasn’t until you took a few trepid steps closer that you realized it was something more intricate.
Clunky and robust with gray metal that was starting to oxidize. It was some kind of robot. It might have been years since this thing was active.
You stared at the find for several minutes. Was it man-made? That didn’t really feel right. You didn’t know how to explain it, but this robot looked foreign to any Earthly element. Alien.
Strangely, you felt as if you were examining a corpse.
Weird, really really weird. But apart from the strange robot, you couldn’t find anything else off with this world. You mostly recognized the animals, as well as the plants. The most you could conclude was that this was some type of post-apocalyptic Earth where humanity was scarce or just gone entirely.
That sounded a bit depressing, but you weren’t surprised. You’d heard of others who’d slipped into similar realities where humanity had blown themselves up till extinction. Or a disease wiped them out entirely. They often talked about how nice it was seeing animals that were on the endangered list, just frolicking about in the thousands. You hoped this was one of those realities. Realities without humanity often sounded more peaceful.
The panic hadn’t set in yet. There was no need for it to. You knew people would eventually realize you’re missing and the system would kick in to find you. Accord was really good at her job. It was what she was created for, after all. Since her creation, everyone who slipped was often found by the end of the day, perfectly safe.
You were in good hands, you assured yourself. Accord would find you. She’s found everyone else, so far. Why would you be an anomaly?
You ignored the tiny voice of paranoia in your head, distracting yourself by admiring the large trees and other vegetation. One field in particular caught your attention. It was not the beauty that made it pop, rather, the familiarity.
You bent down, lightly touching the bright red tomato happily growing from its stem. Beside it was a cucumber vine, creeping along the floor with its dark green vegetables. There were a few strawberry shrubs, something that looked vaguely like a pomegranate bush. All of the plants were bunched together, healthy and growing strong. It almost resembled a shabby garden.
“Oh, hello there.”
You jumped up straight, surprised to hear a voice, and from the sound of their tone, they seemed to share your reaction.
When you spun around to face the source, you were partially expecting to see that robot you’d seen earlier.
It wasn’t that robot. It was a different one.
You stared, the robot stared right back. It was larger than you, bulkier, and a bit more humanoid in shape than the other one. Its metal was old and rusted in some places. What could only resemble eyes were bright green lights on either side of its face.
Given any other situation, you might have run. Maybe even screamed. But being stuck in a world where you didn’t know the rules of the game was enough to leave you stumped, and so you just echoed what the robot said.
“Um, hello,” you replied back nervously, raising a hand in greeting.
The thing straightened up at your voice. You could hear the gears and bolts shudder every time it moved.
“Hello!” It repeated. It almost sounded excited. “How are you, today?”
“Fine?” You responded before your mind caught up to you, force of habit forcing pleasantry. “I’m sorry, but…what–what are you exactly?”
You heard the gears again. “I’m Pascal!” The thing chittered, clearly misunderstanding your question. “What’s your name?”
Not quite what you were looking for, but it seemed friendly, at least? You gave ‘Pascal’ your name with less enthusiasm and more caution. ‘Pascal’ didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the robot strode even closer, clearly not sensing your wariness. If anything, it seemed entirely oblivious to it.
“Is this yours?” You tried, gesturing to the garden. God, you hoped it was a nice robot and wasn’t about to kill you. Pascal gave an eager nod.
“Yes! Yes!” Pascal agreed. “The deer like them, as well as the rabbits. I try my best to keep the plants growing every year.”
An animal lover. You wondered if it was programmed for that. Your shoulders relaxed a little, relieved that the thing was harmless. Probably.
“Really?” You prompted, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Do you grow anything else?”
It shook its head. “These were the only plants that sprouted,” it informed you, gears crunching as they got stuck for a second, then continued to operate smoothly. I collected them during my travels and decided to plant them here.”
Pascal’s blabberings simmered. It peered at you with those green lights it called eyes, digging far too deep for your liking.
Robots weren’t supposed to replicate life. Their entire existence stemmed from certainty — a feature of life that often fails to be duplicated.
But maybe you were wrong because, just for a brief moment, he hesitated. Then, he asked.
“...Are you lost?”
-
It’s a village, at least you thought it was a village.
High up in the trees. You weren’t sure if the rickety ladder would’ve held your weight, but you believed the fear was well worth the scenery.
A treehouse village. Each hut was built into the trunk. There were at least two ‘floors’, with another clearly in the process of being built. There were clothing lines where clothes and rags were hung up to dry, though it looked as if they had been up there for a long time.
“Welcome to my home,” Pascal chirped while you gazed around in awe. “This is so exciting! It’s been a while since I’ve had someone see it. Would you like a tour?”
You nodded, finally beginning to feel properly excited about this world you’d fallen into. Pascal clasped his ‘hands’ together, thrilled, as far as you could tell. He led you around the village enthusiastically, pointing out every detail he could find. He talked a lot, enough to fill the space for two people, leaving you to bob your head long to everything he said. It was nice, you were content enough to sit back and let him do the talking. It allowed you to absorb everything just a bit more.
The chirping of cicadas, the rustle of leaves, being able to weave between the trees and never touch the ground — it all called back to the more childlike side of your being. The desire to have a majestic treehouse from which to rule, that childhood dream almost felt fulfilled as you took in your surroundings, learned where all the ‘houses’ were.
The more he showed you, however, the more strange this place became. There were hints of life everywhere, clues that somebody should have been actively living there, occupying the huts, greeting you as you passed. There were multiple ladders and bridges, clearly made for more than just one person in mind. There was something that oddly resembled a children’s toy — a shabbily made see-saw. Clearly, it couldn’t have been only Pascal residing here.
Every so often, you expected someone — a robot, maybe one shaped like Pascal — to pop up. Yet, there was nothing; only the eerie silence, save for your footsteps and Pascal’s metal clanking.
“Where is everyone?” You interrupted Pascal in the midst of his rambling, feeling a spark of guilt at the way he stuttered.
He looked back at you, and by now you were starting to get the hang of gauging his reactions enough to understand that he looked confused.
“What do you mean?” He prodded. “It’s only ever been me here.” He paused to think for a moment. “Actually, when I first got here, there was a lot of junk laying around. It took a while to get rid of.” He hummed good-naturedly. “It’s more than likely other machine lifeforms found this place first before moving on.”
That caught your attention.
“Machine lifeforms?” You repeated. “Is that what you are?”
“Machine lifeforms are those brought by aliens to Earth.” Pascal provided, nodding along.
So they weren’t made by humans. You had a feeling, but it was nice to be certain. It was obvious that this world is far into the future compared to your own by decades — perhaps even centuries.
“Pardon me for asking but…” Pascal tilted his head. “You are human, yes?”
You assented, albeit reluctantly. It sounded more like a yearning for confirmation than actual ignorance. Besides, it might have been pure naivety on your part, but in the short while you’d known Pascal, he’d never once been malicious. A bit weird, but not bad.
You flinched when he threw his arms up in the air, jolted out of your thoughts. The gears within him whirred in delight at your testimony.
“Splendid! I had an inkling you were…but I didn’t want to assume!” He gushed, bypassing your personal space once again to analyze you. “I’ve never met a human before. How exciting.”
You had a feeling you were the only one left, but for your suspicion to be confirmed was a little disappointing. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were holding out a little bit of hope for another human to be around, someone you could relate to more easily. Someone who understood.
“I’m guessing humans here are long gone then.” You murmured, mostly to yourself, but Pascal heard it loud and clear.
“No?” He told you, confused. “All humans are on the Moon. Isn’t that where you’re from?”
“The Moon?” You echoed, glancing up at the sky. “All of them? How did they even–”
You swallowed your voice, perplexed. What kind of world was this? Robots on Earth? Humans on the Moon?
“No, I’m not from the Moon.” You finally told him. “And…I’m not even from this Earth. It’s–it’s hard to explain.”
Sighing, you took a seat on the wooden floor of the village. Pascal followed, watching as you crossed your legs, and he did the same. It reminded you of a child following the actions of an adult, learning from the people around them.
You assumed you spent about twenty minutes on the platform, explaining about how you woke up here no more than a few hours ago, Accord, how you were supposed to be in your own bed at home…and now you were somewhere else.
“I’m still not too sure how it works.” You admitted to him. “But…think of a cup filled with water. Whenever you shake it, the water spills over. That would sort of make me a droplet.”
Insignificant, in the grand scheme of things.
“Fascinating.” Pascal swooned before his posture dropped. “My sincerest apologies. I’m sure your friend is very worried.”
“My friend?”
“Accord.” Pascal clarified. “You mentioned she was looking for you.”
You weren’t sure if you could call Accord a friend. You’d never met her before, but every human in your universe knows her name.
“In my universe, people get into these types of situations all the time.” You motioned to yourself. “Accord is the overseer of my world. She’s a system! Whenever someone goes missing–like I did–she tracks them down and brings them back home.”
Accord would find you eventually. You were sure of it. Ever since her creation, there hasn’t been a single human that wasn’t recovered in a week.
“I bet my friends and family are pretty worried.” You acknowledged, realizing how long you’d been gone. “But I’ve heard that time moves slowly in my universe. A few hours here, might only be a few seconds there.”
A few days here could be a mere few hours there. Weeks and weeks might only be a day or two. Years might be–
“From what you’ve told me, Accord seems very proficient.” Pascal proclaimed, proud for you, somehow. “I’m sure she’ll find you soon.”
You gave a weak smile, your stomach churning at the unsettling feeling that his words seeded. “Of course she will.” You agreed in spite of the anxiety that licked at the soles of your feet. After all, Accord hadn’t lost anyone before, right?
Right?
You just had to stay put, and stay hopeful. You’d be found soon. Someone would notice you’d been gone, or you hadn’t been answering your phone, and you’d be reported. It’d be fine.
Everything will be fine.
Speaking of, you weren’t sure how interdimensional travel worked, but you didn’t want to take a chance of straying too far from your original spot. Pascal’s place wasn’t too far from where you originally woke up. Maybe if you lingered around a bit, Accord might have an easier time finding you.
“Pascal?” You called.
He tilted his head as an answer.
“I really don’t mean to be a bother, but.” You glanced away into the trees. Despite the sun hovering strong and still in the sky, the forest looked dark and daunting. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to be alone anymore.
“Would you mind if I stayed for a while?”
You wanted to say more. You wanted to explain yourself. You wanted to promise you wouldn’t take too much of his time, or be too much of a burden, but Pascal didn’t seem to want any of it. The most inhuman thing on this planet was showing you the most humanity you’d ever experienced.
“Of course.” He chirped cheerily. “Stay as long as you would like.”
True to your word, you made sure you weren’t a burden. You tried your best to help out in the village, folding the rags of cloth he had lying around, brushing off the twigs and leaves that occasionally cluttered the floor. You didn’t think you were doing a lot, but Pascal was very sweet with his assurances.
“So are there any other machine lifeforms that you’ve seen?” You asked, tucking away another bundle of twigs as per his instructions.
Pascal sat right next to you, showing you the proper way to store the sticks. You lacked the efficiency and the perfection he had, and your bundles looked like complete messes compared to his. Thankfully, he said nothing about it, placing the stacks you made right next to his own.
“Yes.” He answered. “Most don’t stay around these parts, however. The android kingdom is very close, though.”
“Android kingdom.” You quoted, brows furrowing in consideration. Robots like Accord?
“Oh, yes,” Pascal said, “I heard they have contact with the humans on the Moon.”
Okay, so aliens created Machine Lifeforms, and androids were clearly an invention of humanity. What could they possibly have created them for, you sarcastically wondered. You were just glad you came into the aftermath of whatever horrors happened, rather than the midst. You were no fighter, you wouldn’t survive longer than a minute if you were dropped into an all-out war in the middle of who-the-hell-knows-where. Much less one between androids and aliens, of all things.
Still, a kingdom of androids, fully independent from humanity to the point where their creators were up on a satellite doing who knows what. It sounded fascinating, you couldn’t deny that you were immensely curious as to how things turned out this way.
“What are they like?” You prodded, wanting more information out of your walking history book. “The androids, I mean.”
“I don’t know, these days.” Pascal hummed. “ The Android King doesn’t allow much contact.”
So much for history book.
The androids didn’t seem very friendly, then. Maybe it’d be different for you, considering your humanness, but you weren’t ready to take a chance today. The adventure you were on right now was more than enough excitement for a lifetime, throwing in the risk of hostile entities in a single day was too much.
“I was friends with one.” Pascal suddenly murmured. “I don’t think she’s around anymore.”
You waited for him to continue.
He never did.
-
Pascal didn’t know a thing about humans.
You thought you could bear it, but after he kept bringing these robot fish and tried convincing you to eat them, you decided to take things into your own hands.
The fishing pole was basic, but it got the job done. You waded in calf-deep water, your shoes and socks tossed on the shore. The calm river lazily passed you by. You’d never seen water so clear before, rippling around your legs, bouncing off the pebbles and gravel.
“Oh.” You felt a tug on the rod, your heart skipping a beat. “I think I got something.”
“Really?” Pascal asked in excitement, bounding over.
“Pascal, wait–” Too late, whatever was on the other end was scared away by his movements. You watched with a frown as a shadow trickled back into the water. There goes lunch.
You pulled back the empty rod. Pascal stood still next to you in the water.
“I startled it, didn’t I.” He realized in disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head and offered a placating smile, reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly. “There’s plenty of fish in the river.” You told him kindly and held out your rod to him. “Want to try?”
He grabbed the stick eagerly, mimicking your movements. Pascal didn’t try to hide his curiosity about humans, nor his willingness to learn from you. He was clearly being honest when he claimed he hadn't met one before you. Since the moment you got here, you’d been barreled by questions about humanity and the world you came from. He was floored when you revealed there were billions upon billions of humans in your universe. It must have been an unfathomable number where humanity was scarce.
“Did you eat fish back home as well?” Pascal questioned, flailing with the rod. At least he was having fun. You sat back on the shore, enjoying the sun beating down on your skin.
“Hm, sometimes.” You answered lazily, closing your eyes. “But humans eat other things: Other types of meat, fruit, vegetables. We use spices to make them taste even better.”
“Really?” Pascal asked. You gave him an affirmative, dipping your toes back in the water, feeling the biting chill and the trickle of water weaving past.
“Humans do a lot to make food taste good.” You admitted. “Regardless of how healthy it is. The most popular foods are sweets; cakes, cupcakes, cookies, brownies.” What you wouldn’t do to have one of those right now.
“I’m sure we can make those!” Pascal exclaimed, and you realized you muttered that out loud.
You smiled warmly at him, appreciating his wishes to help bring you joy. “That’s sweet.” You told him, letting him down gently. “But I highly doubt it. Those foods are pretty complicated. We’d need a lot of ingredients like eggs and sugar.”
“I wonder if the android kingdom has those items.” Pascal pondered.
“I thought the android kingdom was closed off to outsiders?”
“Sometimes the Android King allows trading.” Pascal answered back.
That’s the second time Pascal mentioned him. What kind of person was he to forbid entry to his kingdom, and only occasionally open routes for trading? Was he scary? Cruel and tyrannical, keeping his people clutched in an iron fist?
Or was he simply protecting his citizens?
“It’s a little funny we went back in history, though.” You said out loud.
“What do you mean?”
“Back home, most governments aren’t monarchies anymore. We mainly have democracies.” You enlightened Pascal. “If you asked any modern-day human, they’d have some pretty choice words about royalty in general. So now, centuries later, with even androids adopting monarchy…makes me wonder if there’s a human king up on the Moon now.”
Pascal’s machinery droned. “Well, on Earth, I think the Human King would be you.”
You barked a laugh, taken aback by his declaration. “Yeah? Are you the Machine-lifeform King then, Your Majesty?”
He preened. Something simmered in your chest as you continued to look at him. You were so happy to see your friend so happy.
“Still, what are humans even doing up there?” You questioned aimlessly, gazing up at the sky. “When I was young, every kid on the block wanted to be an astronaut. And now, apparently, every human is born one.”
Pascal didn’t answer. He was distracted by something tugging on the fishing pole.
“Did you get something?” You perked up, jumping to your feet. Please, oh, please be a fish. You were starving. Hell, even those robotic fish were beginning to look appetizing.
“Yes!” He chirped back animatedly. “It’s rather big, I hope the rope holds…” He trailed off as the thrashing got louder and more violent, droplets of water splashing every which way.
You were both silent when he finally pulled it up, a clump of algae hanging limply from the hook, peering back at you.
“Yeah.” You said after a pause. “I don’t think fishing is either one of our strengths. Maybe we should try to make a salad instead.”
“Agreed.” Pascal grumbled.
-
It was the strangest thing. You'd been here for a couple of days now. You were sure of it.
And yet, you hadn’t seen the sun move an inch.
It was still hovering above Pascal’s Village, sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches. You lied flat on the wooden pathway, staring up blankly. Pascal was next to you, fiddling with one of his machines.
“Pascal?” You summoned his attention. “Do…sunsets not happen here?”
“Sunsets?” Came his response. “What are those?”
You sat, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Seriously? The sun just stays up there? There’s no day-and-night?”
Pascal considered you with what you equated to a frown. “Are you referring to the night kingdom?”
“Night kingdom?”
He pointed across the village, far past the trees and plains.
“It’s on the other side of the world. Sunlight can’t reach there, so they mostly rely on artificial light.”
You tilted your head. “People actually live there?”
He nodded. “I believe a small group of androids, also a multitude of machine lifeforms.”
You kept forgetting that humans no longer lived on Earth. It was overrun by androids and machine lifeforms now.
“I was there a few centuries ago.” Pascal happily continued, oblivious to your disquiet. “I bet a lot has changed since.”
“Centuries?” You repeated. “Pascal, how long have you been on Earth?”
He’s not human, and yet you’d learned how to read his emotions. It wasn’t hard; he practically wore everything on his face, in the way he moved, the tone of his voice.
His arms dropped into his lap. His body language became stiff. He’s hesitating.
“I can’t remember much from that time, Machine Cores aren’t made to last this long.” Pascal divulged to you. “But I believe I was created between the 7th-8th machine war.”
You gaped at him, eyes flickering over the dents—battle scars, metal bent by violence and a bloodless war.
It was like pulling out teeth. Pascal revealed to you the history of the wars that had ravished Earth for centuries upon centuries. Aliens created machine lifeforms to take over the planet. Humans created androids to defend Earth. How overwhelming the machine lifeform army was, to the point where humanity retreated to the Moon, letting androids continue the war. He talked about the brief memories he had of those times, where he was hunting down androids from orders — where he was nothing but a machine.
“And then, one day, you woke up?” You probed, when he grew silent.
Pascal confirmed with a droll hum. You leaned back on your hands, thinking on all he told you, processing all the information you’d received.
“Humans and aliens are enemies.” You said out loud, “Does that make us enemies, Pascal?”
Pascal flinched. “No! Of course not!” He vehemently denied it with so much certainty you had to smile at how seriously he took it. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know, I know.” You assured him. “I’m glad. I consider you my friend. I don’t care about anything else.”
You didn’t know how you could’ve survived out here, had Pascal not found you. How much did you owe him? Hundreds and hundreds of lifetimes over. He was practically the only thing keeping you afloat. You didn’t care if Pascal was created to end humanity. That wasn’t who he was. He was the kindest, gentlest person you’d ever met. You wouldn’t let his past taint his present.
“I consider you a friend as well.” Pascal voiced sweetly. You thought, if he could, he’d be smiling right about now. Maybe even blushing.
You wished you could stay here forever with him. It could be a nice life. You could help Pascal spruce up the village. In the late evenings, the two of you could go fishing. In the mornings, you could tend to the garden. Maybe the two of you could start a new adventure to the night kingdom one day.
It would be really nice, but you knew you couldn’t.
“It’s been days,” you finally started, “and there’s still no sign of Accord.”
Pascal’s movements stopped. You knew he was sharing your thoughts.
Accord should’ve been here days ago. The fact that she hadn’t showed up yet was alarming. Despite enjoying your time here, you missed home, your friends and family, the internet. Your patience was wearing away. Anxiety was starting to grow. You needed to make your own move.
“Accord is an android,” you spoke, trying to avoid Pascal’s eyes, “I was thinking, maybe if I talked to the android kingdom, I could get closer to going home.”
You didn’t say it out loud. You’d have to leave Pascal.
The thought made your stomach twist.
Pascal, who was nothing but kind and gentle to you. Pascal, who had made sure you were safe and protected. Pascal, who was your friend. You were leaving him just for a bleak shot of getting home.
The machine lifeform said nothing. He just turned away, looking up at the sky. The sun was still up, lingering over the world, you could feel its warm rays on your skin. They almost scorched you now, burning you for scorning your only friend in this world.
“I’ll contact them later today,” he finally said, “they’ll be here tomorrow.”
His gears and metal felt awkward under your skin as you threw yourself at him, but you didn’t care. You squeezed him into the tightest hug you possibly could, even as his endoskeleton pinched your forearms and hands. Pascal barely seemed to register the hug. He froze for ten whole seconds underneath you. You knew, because you counted each one.
“Thank you,” you whispered to your friend, “thank you so much.”
Pascal stayed silent, but when he hugged you back, his hands were warm.
divider by cafekitsune ♥
(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)
This loop has to be the one. Nevermind that you said it last loop, and the one before, and the one before that, and most of the ones before that. THIS was the one you'd stop the King in his tracks. You push a few of your many potions to the side to make room on your desk. None of them worked to stop him, so they were useless. He's still about twelve, fourteen? hours away, so you have enough time to make the bomb, eat and take a fat nap before you go pick a fight. Maybe this time, it'll work! It has to!
You've gotten better at making the Craft Bomb. It hasn't blown up on you before you intended to use it in... a long time. You can make it fast enough, now, for it to still be light outside! You've become silent while you work, which Mirabelle has told you is ''worrying'', but you don't see why it is. Are you really that loud? (Yes. You are.)
It's hard work. Soft light bathes your desk, your work, you. You reach out, past your potions, and grab your water bottle. Take a big swig, and
Hmm. That's not water.
How. HOW do you keep making this mistake. You look at the bottle in your hand, and sure enough, it’s one of the potions; your water bottle is shoved in the back of the collection of other containers. The taste is caustic, your throat begins to burn. You shouldn’t be this calm for having just drank something that’ll kill you in a handful of minutes, but it’s happened before. Despite the pain you don't bother trying anything. Just push the finished bomb to the side and lay your face against the wood of the table. Feel the blood start to pool in your mouth and dribbling out, staining the wood. Mirabelle, or Euphie or whoever comes in next, they can use it this loop. It's not the first time you've drank one of the many, many dangerous potions on your desk, and it's probably not the last. Maybe you'll actually clean the crabbing thing off before you work.
Whatever. You have next time. You have all the time.
s: You slip into a world where androids rule the Earth and humans have fled to the moon. Despite your constant requests to go home, you have a feeling the androids aren’t too keen on helping you.
cw: rape/non-con, yandere oc x reader, dddne, captivity, isekai, dark content ahead
wc: 4.6k
co-written with @envy-of-the-apple ♥ read on ao3 here
(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)
[NieR masterlist]
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You got up early that morning. At least, you thought you did. It was hard to tell what time it was when the sun never changed its position in the sky.
As promised, Pascal set up a communication line with the androids yesterday. He seemed a hint out of practice; clearly, it had been ages since he’d had a reason to chat with the other beings of this planet.
Eventually, Pascal got them to agree to arrive. The details beyond that were lost to you.
Instead of worrying about it, you sat on the wooden platform of the upper tier of his village, swinging your legs off the edge. You regaled Pascal with stories of your universe, enjoying the last few hours you had left to spend with him. A gentle breeze brushed against you, rustling your clothes and bringing with it the scent of flora, the eternal blooms that thrived under the light. Beyond the forest, you periodically spotted boars and deer roaming about, feasting on never-ending expanses of greenery.
It was while you were telling him about the hell that was navigating subways that the Androids arrived.
A small convoy of people, four from the looks of it, crossed the bridges hung onto the trees, approaching Pascal’s village in a uniform fashion. They marched at a steady pace, one after the other, boots filling the same slot as the person in front of them.
Right off the bat, you clocked something strange about them.
They all looked completely identical. It wasn’t just in the clothes they were in, but everything, from the way they walked, to the weird masks they wore over their eyes, down to the straightness of their hair.
Strangest of all, though, was that they all had weapons hovering behind them, held up by a ring of pale yellow light. Mainly swords, though one had a polearm from what you could glean.
The group stopped at what functioned as the entrance to the village, heads tilted up to face you and Pascal, expressions neutral. Their presence caused the hair on your nape to prickle, suddenly nervous. They were (probably) your only way to get home, you couldn’t afford to give a bad first impression.
You trailed after Pascal as went to meet them, clunking down the ladder that creaked precariously under his weight. Resisting the temptation to hide behind him like a child, you stood at his side, waiting for someone to start.
The ‘leader’ of sorts spoke first. “Pascal.”
Pascal’s gears churred, a noise you recognized as him feeling pleased. “It’s good to see you again, 18.”
18? What a weird name, you thought. She was the tallest of the bunch, though the rest weren’t far behind. Her hair draped to her shoulders, bangs cut at an interesting diagonal line, but she pulled it off somehow. Her weapon was bigger than the rest, resembling a heavy greatsword. How a spinning circle of light held it up, you had no idea, and even less idea how the damn thing was used, considering it was as tall as her.
Maybe it was for aesthetics?
The android merely nodded, then turned her gaze toward you. “This is the human you told us of?”
“That’s right,” your friend confirmed.
18 examined you for a few seconds, standing unnaturally still. Then, she turned her head over her shoulder, motioning to the girl at her right. The girl took the hint and approached you, closing the distance in two long strides.
Before you could do anything, her gloved hands clasped your face, tilting your head this way and that, sparing little concern for the comfort of your neck. You opened your mouth to voice your panic, but she took the chance to hook a thumb behind your teeth and pull it open wider, peering into your maw. Reflexively, you tried to jerk back, a garbled complaint bubbling up, but your struggles didn’t move her. Either, she was ignoring the way you were pulling at her arm, or she was entirely oblivious to your discomfort.
It was when she put a palm to your throat, fingers nudging into the underside of your jaw, that she froze. You had no idea what she was searching for, but she seemed to have found it in the way your heart hammered in your chest. As quickly as she had grabbed you, she let go, staggering backwards like you’d burned her.
“It’s true,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. “She– she’s human.”
In an instant, 18 and the other android locked onto you, crowding your space. Touchy hands wandered all over your body, pawing at your flesh, treating you like a novelty. Someone pinched your waist, and you squealed, batting them away.
“Hands off!” You yelped, and they all retracted from you, surprise evident on their faces.
Chatter burst forth from them, the group babbling to each other rather unsubtly. Their conversation moved too fast for you to follow, only allowing you to catch the occasional word, like human and His Majesty, city. Pascal and you shared a glance; the robot shrugged unhelpfully.
Then, it stopped altogether. 18 took her spot at the front again and pressed an arm to her chest, elbow raised outward, and bowed to you. “I am 18D, an android that works under His Majesty. My companions maintain similar positions in His employ. We’d be honored to escort you to His Majesty, so he may aid you in returning home.”
As one, they spoke, saying, “Glory to mankind.”
Jesus, okay, you underestimated how much androids loved humans when Pascal told you about them, sort of just assuming they were bodyguards that took their jobs very seriously. But, hey, that meant they’d keep you safe during your journey to meet whoever this ‘Majesty’ guy was, right?
“We should hurry,” the second girl rushed, jittery for some reason.
As you were about to agree, you hesitated. “Wait, I want Pascal to come, too.”
At once, you were denied. “No,” she refused, stern, but not unkind. “Machine lifeforms are not welcome in the city.”
Offense surged through you at Pascal’s behalf. “What? But he’s nice! You know this!”
“It’s a rule. No exceptions.”
“You can make one–”
Pascal called your name, interrupting your bickering. His hand reached out to you, then lowered, as if he thought better of it.
“It’s okay,” he reassured you. “They have these rules for a reason. I will be fine here.”
You opened your mouth, but no words came out, stuck in your throat like thick honey. You wanted him to come with you, he’d been the only person you’d known since waking up in this strange place.
Fuck. Your chest ached with guilt, but if even Pascal insisted on staying behind, what choice did you have? You weren’t going to win this fight.
It was with a heavy sigh and the slump of your back that you conceded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
The androids didn’t bother providing further conversation or wishing Pascal farewell, but you were not about to leave him without at least telling him goodbye. They were already marching away, but you weren’t ready, not yet.
“Wait, hang on,” you called to them. Not waiting to see if they stopped, you hurried back to Pascal, throwing your arms around the can of gears and bolts. “Thank you for being my friend,” you murmured into his shoulder.
He didn’t move initially, then cautiously encircled his arms around you in a facsimile of a hug, more so imitating you than actually understanding the action. “Of course,” he reassured you. “It was a pleasure to have you. I hope we meet again someday.”
You kept your mouth shut at that, not wanting to let him down and say this would be the last time you’d see each other, hopefully. Instead, you squeezed him tighter, then let go.
“Bye, Pascal,” you expressed, smiling sadly.
“Safe travels,” he responded, giving you a wave that you returned.
You turned around and made your way to the androids. It was obvious that they wanted to say something about your friendship with Pascal, but they thankfully kept their mouths shut. They led you away, further and further from the little village you had come to think of as your home-away-from-home. You peeked over your shoulder to give it one last look.
Pascal continued to wave at you, even after you disappeared behind the trees and descended to ground level.
A short walk away, you noticed a shape that looked distinctly familiar, tucked away under a tree with low-hanging branches.
It was a car – an off-road land rover of sorts, specifically. Unlike the other vehicle shells you’d seen here and there, rotted frames of crumbling rust and plastic melted under the ever-present sun, this one was in good condition. A range of floodlights were attached right above the windshield, powered off and unneeded in the current daylight. From the looks of it, the roof and windows had been removed, leaving only the frame for easy access.
You watched as 18D popped open the driver side door and climbed in.. You awkwardly waited outside, unsure where you fit.
And then, something grabbed you.
You were lifted like a damn feather, your indignant caterwauling ignored completely as your effective kidnapper jumped in and plopped you right onto her lap, arms looped around your waist.
“Be careful, G!” One of the girls cried out, the one settling into the passenger seat. “She’s fragile.”
Whoever was holding you – G? – cackled. “Relax, 73. She’s fine. Aren’t you, girly?” The girl leaned forward, her lips against the shell of your ear. You fully intended to pretend that you didn’t just experience a wave of shivers at the sound of her voice.
“Well, actually–” you started.
“73H is right, 5G,” 18 interrupted. “Be more careful.”
“Sure, sure,” 5G, G, whoever the fuck she was, answered lackadaisically. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep our little human safe.”
18 grumbled something that you didn’t catch under the roar of the engine turning over. In an attempt to save yourself, you wriggled, but it was useless against the unstoppable force that was this woman’s insane strength. Her arms didn’t so much as budge at your squirming.
“Um,” you spoke up above the rumbling purr emanating from the vehicle. “I can sit on my own just fine!”
5G grinned, propping her chin up on your shoulder. “Don’t be silly! I won’t let you go, you can trust me!”
Yeah, that wasn’t what you were worried about. It didn’t help that she was unfairly pretty. All of them were, really, in that inhuman way that bordered a little too close to uncanny valley, but didn’t quite fall into the steep drop yet.
You chewed the inside of your cheek. You were a novelty, after all; the last human on Earth. Maybe they’d never seen one before? You could hardly blame them for being curious.
Still, no matter how hard you tried to squash the thoughts under your heel, they persisted, whispering in your ear that you should have stayed with Pascal.
----
The entire ride to the city, the androids stared at you.
73H frequently turned around in her seat to chat with you and 5G, and 5G never loosened her hold. The only one that seemed to not be trying to pick you apart with her eyes was 18D, but with the blindfolds they all wore, for all you knew she could have been peering at you through the rearview mirror this whole time.
“What’s it like, being a human?” 73H queried.
“Um, what do you want to know?”
“Do you really produce milk?”
The question was so outrageous, you couldn’t help yourself. You choked on a laugh, then burst out into a fit of giggles. 18D chastised her, prompting 73H to apologize profusely to you, but you found it endearing.
Fanning your face, you answered, “Some people do, yeah. Usually happens after they give birth.”
“What’s it taste like?”
“73H!” 18 shouted.
“Sorry!” She whined.
5G nudged you while 18D chided 73H. “Can humans eat mackerel?”
You nodded. “Yeah, unless they’re allergic.”
“It doesn’t jam up your circuits?”
“No–” you made a face. “Humans don’t have circuits.”
“Really?” Both she and 73H asked.
As you chatted, you observed the changing scenery. The ruined structures of ancient apartments and house foundations fell away, replaced with idyllic landscapes.
It faded away, replaced with the curious chiming of music through old speakers, the sound tinny and popping. You leaned to the side to peek between 18D and 73H, watching as your driver raced towards an…
Amusement park?
Going straight through the entrance led to a partially destroyed statue, its body cut on a clean diagonal, as if sliced in half. Rainwater collected inside it, causing its protective coating to wear off in some places and allow the bronze to oxidize.
“What’s that?” You pointed it out.
5G shrugged nonchalantly. “Records show it used to be a machine lifeform. Good riddance.”
18D drove around it and further into the park, up a few ramps. They were steep, leaving you to fall back into 5G, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
Past the houses lining the street, the space opened up greatly, a circular plaza with an open gate at the end. It was when 18D drove onto what resembled a highway that you saw it.
A bestial fortress. The vestiges of sunlight bled through the misshapen heart of its core, your desired sunset handed to you on a silver platter. To the right of it, the remnants of a ferris wheel lay collapsed upon its siding, overtaken by nature.
“I bet this place used to be fun,” 73H sighed. “Wish the roller coaster still worked.”
“There’s a roller coaster?” You looked back to spot it.
“Oh, yeah,” 5G crooned, laughing. “Just a mess now. Bet you would have been too chicken to ride it, 73H.”
“I would not have been!”
The two bickered back and forth, with 5G provoking 73H, saying that all healer units were wusses while the other insisting it wasn’t true.
The highway curved, extending parallel to the massive structure, away from the winding pillars and tracks of the doomed roller coaster.
It was beautiful.
You feared that very beauty would grab hold of you and never let go.
Lost in thought, you didn’t notice that your ride had reached its destination until 5G was scooping you up like a soggy, wet cat again, lifting you out of the car. Looking around, you realized that 18D had parked in what seemed to be a garage lot somewhere underground.
Just as you were beginning to panic, thinking they were about to drag you down to some creepy-ass dungeon, 18D spun around and led your group up a ramp and out into the crimson-gold lambency of the forevermore lowering sun, hanging heavy on the horizon.
The first step you took into the city left you speechless.
All around you, skyscrapers rose to greet the sky, their spires still standing tall, even after all this time. In place of glass windows with mirror-like finishes, overwhelming amounts of bright green foliage sprouted from the sides of the buildings. Trees lined the streets in thriving columns, blooms of white and pink flowering atop the leaves.
Asphalt made way for sprawling ivy and stunning flora, pops of color breathing a sentience yet unknown to you into what was once a metropolis packed full of humans. The tram line that cut through the center of the wide street blended seamlessly with the copsewood, the passenger carriage itself serving as a home for verdure.
A squirrel skittered from bush to bush and raced up the trunk of a nearby tree, chattering with another that hid in the midst of leafage. Flocks of birds circled overhead, searching for places to nest, bugs to feast upon, and treats to stash away.
Androids roamed about in small groups, two or three making their way to wherever it was they were going. Most had white hair, but it was easy to spot those that were brunette or blonde. A few even sported brilliantly red locks, a shock of contrast against a nearly all-green backdrop.
You were so used to streets that were jam packed with people and cars, a constant buzz of sound. Instead of honking vehicles and rumbling engines, there was the swish of gentle wind between buildings. Humans were exchanged with wildlife. Things of scant importance had long since decomposed.
Fresh air flooded your lungs. You could see straight up into a vivid wisteria and bell heather sky, no haze present to block out the lustrous glow of perpetual early sunset. Stars speckled the heavens in dots of cadenced flickers.
The world smelled sweet, faintly of lemongrass and something distinctly wild that you couldn’t put your finger on. For a moment, you forgot everything, captive to the beauty of a planet undesecrated by humanity.
To your surprise, many buildings and streetlights retained electricity, burning strong in the evening hours. They made constellations of one another, their silhouettes blurred into softness by still-surviving lightbulbs and the mellowed sun. When you heard the word ‘cozy’, this is what you imagined. A place of peace, full of nature, gentle on the eyes.
If only real life was like this. Well, your real life.
The weapons your envoy possessed dissipated into sparkles of light as soon as they entered the official city boundary, embers fizzling away before you could enclose them in your palms and bring them to your heart.
“The King lives not far from the city center, in a castle,” 73H informed you.
You cocked your head to the side. “Castle?”
A smile curled the corners of her mouth upwards. “Yes! He built it himself.”
“Oh,” you responded, lackluster.
You wondered if this ‘King’ had a proper name amongst the androids, or if he identified himself with weird numbers and letters like everyone else did, as far as you were aware. It would be kind of odd to always refer to him as only ‘the King’ or ‘His Majesty’, wouldn’t it?
It gave you something to ponder about as you followed 18D, absentmindedly taking in the scenery and moping about your universe not having anything remotely like this. Had you not been experiencing it firsthand, you would have dared to call it magical, far beyond the realm of possibility. The entire path you took to the so-called “castle” was like this, the pure essence of creation at the nimble hands of Earth.
And the castle itself – well, it wasn’t quite what you were expecting.
Granted, you didn’t know what to expect in the first place, but it wasn’t so strikingly simple in your mind’s eye.
Sticking out like a sore thumb, a structure of pure, pristine white material occupied a space you imagined might have once belonged to a church, a place of worship. If you paid close enough attention, you swore you could hear the whisper of unanswered prayers.
Compared to the decrepit skyscrapers, it looked brand new, untouched, raised from the ground and kept in a bubble of serenity, away from erosion and time. Your hands itched to dip into paint and press into its sides, leaving a reminder that you were there.
The massive doorway opened at your approach, and you walked through them, down a long path that led to a raised dais. A throne resided atop it, and on it sat a man, chin propped on his fist.
King was right.
The man had an undeniably heavy presence to him, one that had you straightening up.
You were never good with estimating, but you’d place his height around 7 feet, at least. He commanded the very air about him with his presence alone, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. 18D was tall, but the king beat her by a head or two easily.
Like most androids, his hair was a gleaming, cool white, resembling the underbelly of a fawn. It fluffed around his head in mid-length strands, and you bet it was soft as cotton. Part of you wanted to reach out and run your fingers through his wolf cut.
Instead, you forced yourself to focus on his face. Unlike the other androids, he wasn’t wearing a blindfold, showing his pretty blue eyes; they swept over your escorts with little interest, then they settled on you.
And stayed.
Their striking hue made your breath catch. Stunning was an understatement, and you felt a smidge self conscious with how keenly he looked at you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing away.
“Ladies,” he greeted. His tone was low and smooth. It passed over you, encircled you, and came to rest, a warm blanket made of affection and familiarity.
“Your Majesty,” your android companions all replied simultaneously, leaving you the odd one out once more.
The ‘King’ merely waved his hand. “This her, then?
18D rose first, thumping her fist against her chest before it fell to rest at her side.
“Yes, your Majesty. This is the human Pascal informed you of.”
In all the time that 18D was speaking, he never once looked away from you, wholly captivated by your existence.
His brows creased. “How did you end up here?”
It took you a moment to figure out he was asking you. “Oh, um,” you stammered, not expecting the unceremonious return of your vocal autonomy. “I… woke up here?”
Were you not currently busy getting the shit intimidated out of you, you would have considered a career as a wordsmith. With your talent for crafting intricate, yet easily-understood explanations, you could be a world-renowned author on any topic you craved to cover.
Surprisingly, the man didn’t ask you to restate yourself, moving on to ask, “What is your name?”
Hesitantly, you offered it, and received a dazzling smile in return.
“It’s a beautiful name,” he complimented. “You may call me Nier.”
Nier.
Why was the king – Nier – the only one with a name? A proper name, one that sounded almost…
Human.
You thought to question it, but the comfort that came with a human name belonging to a man that was the closest to a human you’d seen overrode it.
Nier rose to his feet, coming to stand before you. He wielded power in his stance alone; it drew you to him.
“Come inside, we can talk more there,” he recommended, motioning to an opening off to the side. You nodded and let him guide you away from your escorts.
The door slid shut behind you, giving you privacy. Inside, you found what looked like a completely normal home, although made of the same material as the rest of the castle and his throne.
Where you expected Nier to sit you down on the couch, or at the dinner table, he kept walking until he reached the end of a hallway. He raised a hand and pressed it to the blank wall, and a hidden door parted, revealing another small room. An elevator.
You entered it with him, and soon felt the floor rise beneath you and carry you smoothly upwards. For how long, you had no way of knowing, having no indication of what floor you were on. It could have been seconds or minutes, but by the time the door opened again, you were disoriented and a hint dizzy. Nier, of course, was none the wiser, focused on bringing you into a bedroom, of all things.
Your first instinct was to think it was his bedroom – but the more you took in the details, the less that seemed likely. For one, there was no indication of anyone having lived in it; the sheets on the bed were untouched, not a wrinkle to be seen in the comforter or pillowcase, both as equally white as everything else. There was nothing on the nightstand beside the bed aside from a small lamp. The desk was blank, a chair tucked neatly under it, and if you opened the wardrobe, you’d bet there was nothing inside it.
“What…” you breathed aloud, confused.
Nier finally let go of your hand and stepped further in. “This is for you,” he said, like that gave you any sort of enlightenment on the environment.
“For me?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, laying his hand on your shoulder. Faintly, his finger brushed over your neck, the sensation little more than the lightest trace of a feather. But there was too much else going on for you to notice it properly, your focus drawn every which way.
At his direction, the subtle persuading, you took a seat on the bed, bewildered to find that it was soft and comfortable, contrary to the blockiness you were expecting. Nier crouched in front of you, coming to rest on one knee, an arm laid lazily across the raised one. Even brought down to this level, he was nearly head-on with you, easily able to maintain eye contact.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said.
“I insist,” he asserted. “I am most happy when I serve.”
Your heart fluttered.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” He suggested.
So, you did exactly that; you told him how you went to sleep in your world, and woke up in this one. How you met Pascal, and asked him to contact the androids with hopes that they could aid you in returning home. Now, you came to Nier with the hopes that he’ll be able to help you return to where you’re supposed to be.
“Her name is Accord,” you told him. “She’s an android, like you. Can you contact her?”
His head tilted to the side, and he put a hand on your thigh, above your knee. “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “We’ll help you get home. It’s our responsibility as the servants of humanity to serve you, and keep you safe.”
You gave him a thin, watery smile.
“Thank you, your Majesty–”
“Nier,” he corrected.
You swallowed down the dryness in your throat. “...Nier.”
The delighted expression he gave you caused heat to rise to your cheeks. You looked away, and that’s when you heard it, a distant, muffled noise.
You spotted a nearby window where the noise came from. You turned to peer out of it, where you found dozens upon dozens of androids standing on the street below. They all hollered and flailed their arms about, heads bobbing like little whack-a-moles.
Beside you, Nier grumbled, “News travels so fast… I apologize, I hoped we’d have more time before they learned you were here.”
Leaning closer to the window, you awed at the amount of people gathered. “Are they all… here to see me?”
“Of course, they are,” came his soft reply. “You are a miracle to us.”
You peeked at him, and found him smiling tenderly at you, his expression warm and gentle. He gave you a slight nod, and you took it as permission to interact with the amassed people. Slowly, you raised a hand, and waved it at them.
Your reward was an explosive round of cheers that barely reached you, the androids jumping and waving back at you. Despite yourself, your lips tugged upwards, the tightness in your chest loosening.
If nothing else, it was nice to know the androids were excited to see you.
Nier rose from his spot. “I’d like to show you the rest of the castle,” he explained. “If that’s alright.”
There was something about him that made you feel safe. He was kind, and you knew he’d protect you. When he extended his hand, you took it, fingers gliding into his palm.
“I’d love to see,” you said.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Come, then. There’s much to show you.”
divider by cafekitsune ♥
(reminder to put your age in your bio/pinned before you follow me or I will block you)
You’re an emotional support dog shifter – a springer spaniel, specifically. A soft thing that sighs and has long ears, the fur on them curled into tight, multi-colored rings. You were brought on at the insistence of Laswell, the woman claiming that if the lot of them refused to get their shit sorted with their assigned shrinks, they’d be getting themselves a mutt to help manage their trauma.
It was only after a few rounds at the pub that Kate begrudgingly admitted to John that you were a failed service dog – kicked out of the school for being perpetually sleepy. She and her wife didn’t have the space to keep you permanently while they fostered you, and the missus was too distraught at the idea of you going to strangers, so this was the next best thing. Give the tired pup a group of equally tired, emotionally constipated men to hang out with.
John? He was not thrilled. Not at first, anyway. He believed you’d get in the way of their duties, take up space, require attention and care that they didn’t have the time nor capabilities to provide.
Boy, did you surprise him, though.
Multiple daily walks in your dog form? Nah. There was the sporadic occasion that you’d join Gaz on one of his early morning jogs (mostly because he didn’t jog particularly fast, preferring distance over speed), though that only happened once in a blue moon. He offered every day, but the majority of the time, you’d simply look at him from your bed in the corner of the rec room with droopy eyes, huff through your nose, and go back to sleep.
Constant need for attention? Nope. You never begged or demanded for any of them to play with you or entertain you. If you needed stimulation, then you’d help yourself to a book in the rec room, or maybe watch some TV in there. You also had your favorite toy – a short length of rope with thick knots on either end – that you chewed on when your teeth itched. Never once did you bother the captain when he was in the middle of mountains of paperwork; never once did you paw at his door and whine to be let in.
The only time he found you near there was when he’d stayed in his office extra late one night, only leaving close to two in the morning. You were laying in the hallway by the door, and when he came out, you got up, looked at him for a few seconds – then, you were yawning and stretching, and trotting away back to your bed, content to see him still alive.
You were quiet, too. No incessant barking whenever someone came over, no jumping on people with excitement (or lack of control). You didn’t bite or claw, and you required basically no training. If one of them told you to come, you would without issue (though, maybe you’d give them a bit of side-eye for waking you).
When one of them took you out on the field to watch over rookie training, you’d obediently sit at their heel, observing recruits run laps until they lost their breakfast, passed out, or both.
Mess hall? Not an issue, even with the overwhelming amount of soldiers present. You took your spot on Gaz’s free side, the seat that had been designated yours when you first joined them, ate all your food, and cleaned up after yourself. Just for that, you were a gem to have.
Then, the actual emotional support.
It started slow. It took you time to settle in fully, get used to your new space and roommates. It also took the boys time to get used to you – Gaz and Ghost still teased Soap about the time he hadn’t noticed you standing behind him and screamed like a little girl when he turned around and saw you. You were patiently waiting for him to move out of the way so you could make yourself a cup of tea, but redirected to bumping into his side and holding onto his sleeve until he calmed down.
He took to you the quickest after that, though. At the end of every day, he was making his way straight to you to enjoy some warm, fluffy cuddles. More than once, the rest of the team had watched him simply lay down on top of you on your bed, amused to see the Scot face-down on your side while you laid your chin on his mohawk.
Gaz was also fast to warm up, enjoying the quiet company you provided him. Shared reading and tea time, you lending an ear (both human and dog) to listen to the gossip he’d gathered around base that he had to spill. That boba he’d been dying to try? You were more than happy to go with him. Self-care days? Make it double.
Now, Ghost; he refused to admit that you’d wormed your way into his heart, but something settled in his chest when you laid yourself across his lap, or plopped down directly on top of him anytime he chose to nap on the couch. You’d rest your head on his collarbone, tuck your paws, and let out one of those big, deep sighs that dogs do when they’re content and comfortable. Instinctively, he’d scratch behind your ears, and you’d lean into his touch with a happy little grumble. Ghost never understood the appeal of weighted blankets until he had you on top of him, giving him deep-pressure therapy.
Price was the hardest to win over, but the most rewarding. The old man went from secluding himself to his office 90% of the time, to finding excuses to take a break and check on you. He’d pretend that he just so happened to end up where you were on his way to do something else, and then he’d invite you because he was a gentleman and it was the gentlemanly thing to do. You never called it out for what it was, but you would smile softly and accept his invitation to take a walk or grab a snack.
In no time at all, it was like you had always been there, chatting with Soap, helping Gaz with puzzles, and napping on the dingy sofa in Price’s office while he worked. Ghost wouldn’t push you off when you flopped beside him while he cleaned his guns, stuffing your cold, wet nose under the hem of his hoodie to hide the sensitive thing from the acerbic stench of gun oil and polish.
It’s like you always belonged with them.
So, after they came back from a relatively short mission – their first time being away from you – and you were nowhere to be seen, they immediately knew something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
In the couple months they’d gotten to know you, they knew you weren’t one to wander. In fact, being a springer spaniel shifter, you were prone to separation anxiety, so they figured you’d choose to rest in one of their rooms, or stay in the spaces they tended to occupy most. But they checked every room, every office, and found no sign of you.
It took an hour or so after their return for them to find you – Gaz, specifically. He spotted you hiding under the coffee table in the rec room, refusing to come out. He had to coax you out slowly, using sweet words and that gentle voice of his that could soften into a tone none of the others could match. He was the best man for the job, and you eventually crawled out.
You were limping, refusing to put any weight on your back left leg whatsoever, ears tucked close to your head. There was crusted blood stuck in your fur, and a small, raw patch where fur was missing entirely, revealing wounded flesh.
Ghost saw red. Blistering, bleeding, crimson red.
As soon as you were close enough to Gaz, you collapsed back onto the floor, evidently exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days. You let out a broken whimper, your eyes wide and wet and so full of fear and hurt. Things you were never supposed to feel, to know. All the man could do was soothe and comfort you, Soap joining in to help with little coos and featherlight petting.
Price didn’t hesitate. He did what he did best – be a soldier.
He began digging, putting his skills and knowledge to use. Given his position as Captain, it wasn’t difficult to get answers out of people, figure out what happened to their poor pup while they were gone. A few questions, a bit of parading his rank (and abusing it, just a little), and he had all he needed to know.
It was a trooper – some new face in the SAS who managed to land himself a spot in it and thought it made him untouchable, made him entitled. He’d been following you around base, to and from the mess, gym, the field, anywhere like he had nothing better to do. He catcalled you incessantly, despite how you ignored him, or told him you weren’t interested, but he wasn’t having it.
On the third day of him harassing you, you decided you had enough. Not wanting to deal with him, you shed your human form, intending to quickly get away from him.
And he shot you.
By some miracle, the bullet only grazed your leg, but it still hit your ankle, nicked the bone. The trooper was immediately grounded, put on indefinite suspension and isolated to constant, intensive watch while he was being investigated. But it wasn’t enough. Not for your boys.
They knew well just how corrupt the system could be. Chances were, the trooper would just get let off with a warning, nothing more than a slap on the wrist that’d only further inflate his ego. They had to handle it.
Johnny and Kyle volunteered to take you to the medbay to get your leg checked, x-rayed, and treated. Ghost and Price stayed behind, sharing a look that nobody dared question. They all knew what was going to happen to that trooper, and neither sergeant had any plans to stop their superior officers from doling out justice at their own hand.
Kyle only briefly paused in front of Simon on the way out, after he’d carefully hoisted you into his arms to carry you. It gave Simon just enough time to scratch your head, run his rough, undeserving fingers through your impossibly soft fur, and murmur, “We’ll take care o’ it, pup. Y’re olrigh’ now,” before Kyle was carrying you away to get taken care of.
The door to their barracks closed, and Price and Ghost donned their soldier skins once more, knowing it wasn’t time for them to rest. Not yet, not until they fixed the issue.
Permanently.
— — — —
When Ghost and Price returned later that day, hands already scrubbed clean from the mess they made a few hours ago, you and the others had already returned from medical. You were curled up on the couch next to Kyle, chin resting on your front paws, a cast secured around your hind leg.
“Fractured the bone,” Johnny informed them, his voice quiet as to prevent waking you up. You were sedated, medicated with some heavy painkillers and still coming off anesthesia, but he wouldn’t dare bother you while you rested. You needed every moment of it to heal quickly and well. “No’ a full break, thank god, but they had ta put a pin in ‘er bone. Puts ‘er at risk o’ a proper break. So, cast, an’ strict instructions ta nae shift back inta human form fer the time bein’.”
Price sighed heavily through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. Ghost stared at you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Even though they just finished… interrogating the trooper, hearing what you had to go through, the pain you’d been dealing with alone for god knows how long, it renewed his rage all over again.
“What’d ye do ta the poor sod?” Johnny asked as he gazed at you, his arms folded over his chest. Evidently, he was fighting for control, too.
“Did a lo’ more than jus’ break the bastard’s leg, can tell ya tha’,” Ghost answered cryptically, receiving a pleased hum in return.
“Least the fecker deserves,” the sergeant commented.
Price lightly clapped both men on the back, attempting to reassure them. “It’s alright, now. We got it taken care of, Johnny. She’s safe.”
Muscles in the Scot’s jaw fluttered, teeth grinding together, eyes refusing to leave your form. “Shoulda been ‘ere.”
“Soap.”
“Isnae right,” he hissed under his breath. “Look at what happened. We shoulda been ‘ere.”
Simon lightly squeezed his shoulder. “Won’ be leavin’ ‘er alone again, no’ anymore.”
John took off his bucket hat, running a hand through his hair. He was in desperate need of a shower, eager to wash off the blood that still clung under his nails, and hopefully some of the week’s stress, too. “We’ll debrief in the morning, boys. For now, keep an eye on her.”
“Yes, sir.”
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It had been months since your mission went to shit, leaving you a near-literal husk of a being, bled almost dry, eyes just this side of clouding over.
Somehow, by some stroke of (horrid) luck, you survived. Got dragged out like a useless mattress to be discarded, thrown into a bin so its former owner may dust their hands free of you. Except, that’s not what happened.
Months ago, you had woken up in pain, bedridden, your body wracked with infection and fever. Almost didn’t make it due to sepsis. Almost.
And now, you sat here, watching some guy in a mask that reminded you of… someone else, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. This man, Nikto, was busy shaving slices of wood off a large chunk he’d scrounged up from seemingly nowhere, though you weren’t sure what his intentions with it were yet.
“Who do you fight for?” He asked unexpectedly.
You paused. Froze, buffered for a moment. “Uh. Crown and country?”
“Нет. Try again.”
His immediate shutdown of your answer threw you for a loop. That… was what you were fighting for, wasn’t it? To protect the people, take down the bad guys so that citizens could sleep easy at night? If not, what else could you have been fighting for?
When you didn’t respond, he glanced up at you, hazel eyes sharp enough to make you sit up straighter. Nikto was not a patient man, you came to learn that quickly. The recent addition of your brain fog, unfortunately, didn’t make interacting with him particularly easy when your thoughts began to stutter and lag.
“I fight for… for people. To. Protect them.”
“Не правильно,” he hissed out. You winced. “One more try, котенок.”
Your mouth opened, then slid shut. The loose ideas you had in your head of what he might be searching for scattered like dandelion seeds blown from their root, flying out of your grasp before you could form them into images. “I don’t know.”
He grunted, his knife getting caught for a split moment before he forced it through the wood roughly. “Yourself,” he answered. “You fight to stay alive.”
“Alive.”
“If you do not fight,” he stopped, turning his head to nail you into place with his glare. “You die.”
You nearly had.
You weren’t sure if your continued survival, the fact that you came out the other end of that hell still walking and talking and breathing, could have been considered as you fighting to stay alive. If anything, you actively wanted to die. Whenever you had the strength to fight back, you’d put up a fuss, refusing to eat from the spoon that the Big One held to your lips, to drink the medicinal tea he brewed. He’d sigh and put the mug down, giving you the false belief you’d won.
Then, he was pinching a bit too close to one of your wounds as punishment, scolding you in accented English. You learned quickly to simply take the bitter medicine he slipped down your throat and suckle on the orange slice afterwards, accepting his bizarre sense of praise.
“What. If I don’t want. To?” You asked.
Nikto hummed, rotating the wood in his hand to observe his progress. “Then you find reason to.”
“I don’t have…” You trailed off, spacing out before you regathered yourself, “reason.”
“We will find reason for you,” he assured. Promised. Threatened. “Revenge is always good reason.”
Whoever this stranger was, for whatever reason, he’d taken a liking to you. A soft spot, maybe, given he hadn’t put a bullet in you himself. It wasn’t his first time suggesting revenge. Justice for some crime you couldn’t remember. Didn’t know if it existed at all. He wanted to punish a crime neither of you could name.
Well, it’s not like you had anything better to do. No name, no home, no nation. All you knew was that you worked in the British army before you were… ‘rescued’ by a group that called themselves KorTac.
So, you let them take you. You had few complaints on the matter. They were fine people, good company. Trained you at your pace.
It was clear you wouldn’t be able to go back on the field, not like you previously could. Your body was broken, maybe not beyond repair, but it’d be a good, long time before the thick band of scarring on your stomach and head trauma would stop holding you back. Therefore, it was determined that you’d take up the job of being overwatch. KorTac could use an eagle, somebody to watch their back without needing to return the favor, carry the extra weight.
You didn’t mind. It was peaceful, comparatively. Of what you could remember, you knew that having your boots on the ground was never peaceful. You never had a moment of rest, a chance to recuperate. Your heart was always pounding, always on alert. Eyes always bloodshot from how little you blinked so that you wouldn’t miss anything, body aching everywhere, muscles eating themselves when you ran out of MREs.
If anything, you preferred to be back at the temporary bases they would occupy during each job. The various screens would inevitably give you a migraine, but you could snack in peace, and piss when you needed to. All you had to do was map a route for them, track enemy surveillance, clear paths. All significantly easier from a monitor than in person.
KorTac benefitted, too.
Their jobs went by faster, cleaner. Information was tracked down and passed onto you, and you examined it, sent in what was relevant, easily forgot what wasn’t. More than once, you had Krueger mutter things in German in your ear, low and sultry. It frequently earned him a smack upside the head from König. You figured he was thanking you for making his life easier, given he’d slide a mug of tea to you, place a souvenir in your palm whenever they returned.
Horangi, too, seemed delighted by your addition to their team. He took to you like a moth to flame, enamored by your oddness. Teasing. He asked questions, then asked again the next day to see if your answer would change. Encourage you to make your answers longer, then recite them. It took you a while to realize that he was trying to help with your speech impediment and ailing memory. Nikto claimed you had tamed the tiger by being stupid. Horangi didn’t argue the matter, so you didn’t either, letting him coddle you and assure that you weren’t stupid.
Just a fluffy little kitten in need of a guardian to teach you how to hunt again.
König preferred bunny. Krueger preferred cub. Regardless, you were the pup of the pack they needed to protect and take care of. At your beck and call, though you rarely called. König hated that, the way you’d try to power through your bad days, when your head ached and vision blurred and stomach felt as though its scar had been torn right open.
“Need I always remind you to ask for help, häschen?” A gentle flick to your forehead, then he was herding you to the couch in the common room of the safehouse, laying you down to nap like a babe. You rarely fought against it anymore, knowing it’d be fruitless. Besides, a nap sounded wonderful.
In the spaces of rest between jobs and illness and fatigue, you sought for meaning. Reason, like Nikto suggested. Maybe revenge wasn’t a bad idea, but against what was the question. You didn’t feel particularly aggrieved by anyone. You were sure having your memories would be a significant aid to finding your reason, but… this wasn’t so bad. Simply existing, following orders, letting your team lead while you breathed freely after what feels like being submerged underwater your entire life.
This was alright, you decided.
Until it wasn’t.
It was one of the few times you accompanied them on the field. You could still aim, still shoot, though your job was mainly extraction. The getaway drive.
You’d only wanted to step out of the car for a chance to breathe outside the vehicle, fresh air when the leather seats of the car stank enough to get your heartbeat pulsing behind your eyes. But the moment your feet touched the damp soil, there was a hand on your arm yanking you to the side.
Your back pressed against someone’s chest, their vest and gear digging uncomfortably through your jumper. Fear and panic didn’t quite catch up until there was cold metal pressed against your throat and a masked face directly in front of your own.
For a few long, staggering seconds, there was only silence.
Then–
“Bloody hell,” the person in front of you muttered, gutted. “Tales?”
…What? Tales? What was this man–
The blade suddenly left your throat, and you were spun around to face the person behind you.
A skull. Half of one, plastered to the behemoth’s head, lower jaw torn off. Dark eyes, darker than the pitch of night you stood under, stared into your soul, pried you apart, ripped you to shreds. He inhaled sharply, said a name, your name.
S: As a marine biologist, your love for the ocean can't be sustained by Earth, whose own oceans were plagued by death and pollution. So, when given the chance to, you go to Pandora to study its seas instead. But after you accidentally cross Metkayina territory, you find yourself caught up in a war you never could have prepared for.
And make promises you'll do anything to keep.
SPOILERS FOR AVATAR: FIRE AND ASH
cw: fem/afab reader, enemies to friends to lovers, language barrier, avatar/human reader, marine biologist reader, angst & fluff, childbirth, parenthood, adoption, fix-it fic, Ronal lives, nursing/lactation/breastfeeding, see full list on ao3
wc: 16.3k
part 1
The sun was at its peak when you were called to join Tonowari and Ronal the next day, and you were surprised to find the one and only Jake Sully off to the side, talking with them in low tones.
He looked at you as you came over and straightened, uncrossing his arms. By habit, instead of reaching a hand out for you to shake, he gestured to you in the traditional Na'vi way — fingers to his forehead, sweeping out, saying your name.
"You know me?" You questioned, brow furrowing. A bit delayed, you copied his greeting.
He shook his head a bit. "Only as much as these guys told me."
Oh. That was a bit embarrassing.
Floundering, you rubbed the back of your neck. "Right. Um…"
Fuck. What did you say to a man like Jake Sully? He was a living legend, and the RDA's most wanted fugitive. You saw his face plastered on walls and tablets alike, listing him as dangerous, wanted dead or alive. Avoid like the plague, contact the number provided on the posters.
Sensing your internal panic, Tonowari stepped in. "He will be coming with us to talk to the tulkun. His wife, as well."
"How come?" You asked.
"We need the tulkun to fight with us," Jake said. "They're passive now, but we're hoping we can get them to join the battle. For their own sakes."
You pressed your thumb into the center of your other palm, deeper and deeper until it hurt.
You wondered if it was possible. If it'd ever be possible.
You wondered this as you rode with Tonowari on his skimwing, clinging to his midsection. You wondered it as you came to a floating rock, which Tonowari helped you climb onto after Jake and his mate did.
Stillness surrounded you, on this shallow, floating rock. Not peaceful; an eerie muteness, the kind that came before a vengeful storm.
As you looked around, your heart pounded in your chest, against your ribs. Anxiety gnawed at you, your bones, your spirit. Your hands trembled at your sides, and you curled them into tight fists, pressed into your thighs. It was far scarier than when you ran to the village to warn the Metkayina of the oncoming attack. It was bigger than you — any of you.
An energy disrupted the lull, and your head snapped toward movement under the water.
Gigantic, colossal beasts emerged from the sea, rising and rising and rising toward the sky, the sun that lethargically drifted to its spot behind Polyphemus.
You sucked in a sharp gasp, whipping around as you heard more arrive. They towered over your group, incomparably mighty to the tulkun you had seen. They eclipsed the sky, casting shadows as large as them, harsh and encompassing. Like their reef Na'vi counterparts, they bore tattoos along their monumental bodies, but the one in the center differed in that impressive rings were pierced into its mouth, hanging in chains to connect further down to other piercings. Massive swaths of red fabric draped from the piercings, too.
The matriarchs.
Tonowari waved a hand at you for you to kneel, and you dropped down, afraid to insult them.
"Go. Tell them. I will translate," he said, motioning tersely to the great creature.
You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat, your trembling worsening. Now or never.
"Matriarchs," you called out, maybe too loudly. From your peripherals, you saw Tonowari signing your words to them. "I come bear— bearing a warning. The R— the humans, sky people, they plan to attack you. They will attack the tulkun during calf communion."
A rumble rippled through you, powerful enough to shake your ribs, knock you back onto your haunches.
"They want to kill you," you coughed out.
Jake took over.
"Great Matriarch," he summoned them, Tonowari following his every word. His voice was stronger than yours, more confident, more serious. "Wise elders. The sky people are coming. Here, today. Right now."
He took a breath.
"To kill our tulkun families."
The words bit at your heart like daggers, sharp tips piercing soft, vulnerable flesh.
"I beg you," he continued. "Fight with us."
The Matriarch thought on his request, then vocalized an answer in return.
Tonowari translated for her. "She said, 'we respect Toruk Makto, but our ways are ancient'." The Matriarch rumbled again, and he continued, "'We believe that killing will only bring more killing, in an endless, expanding spiral'."
Jake grit his teeth, his tail lashing behind him. "Hear my words. The Sky People will never stop. Not until the last of the tulkun is hunted."
The Matriarch bellowed, then began to slap her fins against the water, the others following suit.
Spooked, you looked around, and spotted… someone riding in upon a much smaller tulkun. Multiple someones, in fact, all children, teenagers.
"Lo'ak," Neytiri said, gasping.
Lo'ak's — the one at the front, you presumed — tulkun trilled, a pleading sound.
The Matriarch responded, slapping her fins harder. Without Tonowari to translate, you were completely lost.
"Stop!" Lo'ak shouted. "Stop."
"Lo'ak, what are you doing?" Jake growled out. "You can't be here."
"Dad," his son begged. "Dad, wait." To the Matriarch, he said, "I am Brother of tulkun. I have a right to speak."
A girl piped up, defending him. "Lo'ak speaks the truth. You must listen."
"Tsireya!" Tonowari yelled.
The eldest of the tulkun bellowed.
Tonowari frowned. "She says, 'his Brother is outcast'." He turned to Lo'ak. "You have no standing here."
Lo'ak's nose scrunched. "If he is outcast, then I am outcast."
"And I am outcast," Tsireya followed.
Ronal balked. "Daughter, silence."
"No!" Tsireya cried out. "You will never see me again."
You saw as fear, true and primal, struck Ronal.
Another boy piped up, "And I and my Brother are outcast."
"Ao'nung," Tonowari barked.
The last tailed the rest. "And we are also outcast."
Ronal put a hand to her chest, breathing shakily.
Behind you, the Matriarch clicked.
Tonowari took in a breath. "She says, 'you may speak'."
Like his father, Lo'ak started, "Hear my words. My Brother returned to his birth clan to defend them, but his clan was wiped out by the demon ships. Only Ta'nok survived, because she fought back!" He looked to the side, bidding one to join. "Come forward."
A tulkun that stayed submerged rose up and drifted inward.
You slammed a hand against your mouth to suppress a choke.
She, Ta'nok, was covered in scars, deep wounds that serrated her flesh until it could not heal over fully, exposing the pink of her inner body. Several spears stuck out of her back, and—
Her eyes. They were gone.
You tilted your head to the sky, fighting to restrain the tears that flooded your waterline and blurred your vision.
Ta'nok wailed.
With a heavy heart, Tonowari interpreted. "Ta'nok says, 'I speak for the dead mothers and the dead calves. I speak for my people and all our Songs'."
Ta'nok wept, mourning.
"'Gone'." Tonowari exhaled roughly. "'Forever'."
The Matriarch blinked slowly, silent.
Ta'nok proceeded, begging.
"She says, 'I am the last. The blind witness to our end'."
You could see the tears that filled his own eyes, how his throat dipped, a swallow to keep himself steady, resolute.
He sniffled, sitting up. "Ta'nok says, 'the tulkun way must change. Payakan shows our path'." Quieter, after her plea, he repeated for you, "'We must fight'."
Lo'ak echoed, louder. "We must fight!"
The Matriarch rumbled, then the elders began to descend beneath the water.
Panicked, you glanced at them as they retreated, a hand to your sternum. Did you fail? Was that it?
"What did she say?" Jake asked.
Ronal answered. "They will decide."
You pressed your lips together, your tears spilling.
In muteness, you returned with your group to the village, wondering what you could have done different, if there was something to be done differently. It wasn't an outright rejection, but it wasn't an agreement, either. A limbo you feared you'd fall into and never resurface from.
While you were gone, the clan had moved, relocating to a cave closer to where the communion was set to happen.
Where the attack would occur.
You were ushered toward the back of the cave and commanded to help the healers, who gave you tasks of their own. Specifically, Makani was the one ordering you around. Older and wiser than the rest, the others looked to her.
"Kämunge fay," she handed you a large bundle of gauze rolls. "Io tsatseng."
Despite the language barrier, you did as instructed, mostly following visual cues. Carry this here, bring this to her, go with so and so to gather herbs whose names you repeated over and over to yourself, hoping to memorize them.
Women sat in a circle sang together, working fibers into nets, bandages. Roots were ground into paste and covered with leaves. Fruit was cut open, or freed from a thick shell, juice collected inside a thick gourd. Sat to the left of Makani, she passed you dense cords of rope to knot and loop into a basket.
The song itself wasn't morose, but their rhythm was somber, words slowed and sung from deep in the chest.
Brows furrowed, you mouthed along, picking out bits and pieces. Words that repeated, that maybe you could replicate.
Makani noticed.
She observed as you fumbled over the sounds, the pronunciations, under your breath. She moved closer to you, and your mouth closed, ears tilted back. Warmth bit at your cheeks, the urge to apologize overwhelming—
"Ftu."
Your eyebrows pinched together. "What?"
"Ftu," she drew out the word.
It clicked. She wanted you to copy her.
"Fuu," you tried.
She huffed through her nose, the corners of her lips twitching. "Ftu."
"Ftu."
"Srane. Ftu ngeyä…"
"Ftu n— neyyyah?"
She opened her mouth and showed you how her tongue shifted to the back of her throat, covering it as she pronounced it, "Ngeyä."
Oh. Oh, that— that made sense.
"Ngeyah."
"Ä, ke a."
"Ngey…ä. Ftu ngeyä."
She grinned wide, nodding in approval. "Ftu ngeyä txe'lan."
She went slow as she taught you, showing you far more patience than you deserved. Whenever you messed up, she lightly corrected you, and showed you how she did it.
Tx took you a bit to learn. You had click your tongue against the roof of your mouth to make the correct sound. Kx was even worse, the click happening in the back of your mouth. Your attempts earned you a few snickers, but Makani maintained her patient instruction, letting you take your time.
"Ftu ngeyä txe'lan," You sang as she taught you. "What does it mean?"
Setting down the herbal remedy she was working on, she placed a hand to the center of your chest, on your sternum.
"Txe'lan," she said.
"My chest?" You mumbled, piecing it together. Then, your brows raised in understanding. "My heart? Txe'lan is heart?"
To confirm, you put your hand over hers and tapped it in a beat of two. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
She smiled. "Ngeyä txe'lan lu txur."
You copied her, saying it back. Fond, she brushed her hand over your shoulder, and went back to teaching you the song. Having no way to translate what she said, you were left wondering what she meant. At least you knew heart, now.
Txe'lan… what a pretty name for it.
A horn blew, and you lifted your head, confused.
At the mouth of the cave, warriors were mounted on skimwings (tsurak, Makani called them), lined in rows. Ready for battle.
Your teeth dug into your lower lip, chewing into the dry skin. You wished, more than anything, that you could do more to help, but the closest thing you had to any form of combat training was the movies you'd seen back on Earth.
You hated this feeling, this self-directed disgust. It dissolved the fragile lining of your stomach, bled into your veins, trickled into your marrow. It ate you alive, carving a place for itself in the core of your being, a throne of hatred and insecurity and diffidence. It spun a web, invisible and sticky, a predator setting an inescapable trap for its prey.
"Ayfo lu ne salew wem," Makani said, "ulte tìhawnu si ayfo. Tulkun aysmukan ulte aysmuke."
The war had come.
A quiet sort of chaos bloomed in the cave. Those left behind moved back and forth, preparing for the inevitable influx of injured warriors as the battle waged. It took less than an hour for the first of them to arrive.
The singing cut out, replaced by Na'vi yelling to each other, communicating. Warriors were brought in on makeshift gurneys, carried over shoulders, or dragged across the soil, healers racing from person to person to treat each as they came. A man screamed as stringy fibers were lodged into a bullet hole on his side. A woman fought against the healers, eager to return to the battle in spite of the gash running from her left shoulder to her right hip.
You—
You were stuck in place, frozen, unsure of how to help, what to do. Your heart thundered in your throat, clogging it, making it difficult to breathe.
What do I do, what do I—
Makani grabbed your arm, her face severe. "Za'u!" She shouted, and ran toward an opening at the side of the cave.
Unthinking, you went after her.
You took the path she did, nearly tripping along the way, your body unused to traversing the rocky terrain. Water spray hit your thigh and hip as you skidded outside, where two others were helping a hunter off of tsurak. He had a nasty wound on his back, and a metal harpoon spear had lodged itself in his upper arm.
"Mawey!" Makani said. "Munge tsamsiyu fìtseng!"
You ran into the shallow water, skirting around the tsurak (i.e. jumping over its tail) to get to the opposite side, where the warrior's foot had gotten stuck in the saddle.
The tsurak squirmed and thrashed, forcing you to cover your face so it wouldn't spray it. "It's okay, it's okay," you told it, a hopeless plea for it to calm down. Getting between its wing-like fins proved a lesson in futility in avoiding getting wet, and you clenched your jaw, lunging forward to reach the saddle.
You yanked the leather, allowing the healers to pull him free. The tsurak, sensing its rider was gone, slammed its tail harshly and kicked off into the water once more.
Wading through the water, you reached for the hand held out to you, fingers brushing.
A whistle sounded overhead.
One second, there was an impossibly bright light.
The next, you crashed into the sea, liquid barely having time to move out of the way. It enveloped you, drowned your senses until there was a swirling blackness you couldn't discern up from down in. A terrible bellow followed after the lightning, a thunderous roar that rattled your skeleton, left your ears ringing in pain.
Somewhere in the depths of your subconscious, you were aware that an explosion happened.
It detonated against the wall of the cliffside the cave was hidden under, and its shockwave blew you into the water, a temporary, entire loss of stimuli, a flickering in your brain as your head hit the water. Whether unconscious for a second or a minute, you were beneath the waves, dazed, floating along the brash current.
Your body twitched, sensation returning to your limbs one by one, yet true feeling remained elusive.
You were descending, lower, lower, clutched too tightly in vise you could not escape from. It sat on your breastbone, a gentle, downward push, encouraging you into a squeezing pressure that compressed your ribcage, threatened to puncture your hollow lungs with sharp bones.
Above you, flames dance on the surface, refracting into odd, geometric shapes. They broke apart and recombined, fibers split from a weft, then brushed back into a solid entity.
It mesmerized you.
Beautiful, in an otherworldly way.
Your fingers fluttered, longing to touch the fire, feel its warmth in this all-devouring frost.
To your side, glowing movement caught your attention.
You slowly turned your head, and saw yellow fish darting back and forth, their bodies illuminating the dark space around them. They led and followed each other in equal measure, traipsing their way to you. They circled you, then sprang away, back and forth. Some nudged your cheeks, your arms, your tail. They nipped your ears and toes until you chose to lazily, languidly, lethargically trail after them.
Weakened, you could only go so fast. They acted impatient, tickling your spine, the soles of your feet. You kicked in response, propelling yourself forward.
Up ahead, you could barely make out the shape of… something. Large, reaching too down to see how deep it went. Your hands contacted rough stone, and the fish dispersed, leaving you alone.
You broke through the water, coughing violently and wetly, sucking in chestfuls of air. You tasted the salt in your esophagus, the rough scratch of it on the sensitive mucosal lining of your nasopharynx. You lugged yourself ashore, knees and elbows scraped by the raw rock.
You were alive. Somehow, by some miracle, you survived the blast.
And… and the fish led you to safety. Or, relative safety, where you had a chance to recover.
Shaky, fawn legs climbed under you, joints protesting as you forced yourself to stand. You choked out excess mucus, spitting its salty adhesiveness onto the stones.
Looking around, you saw the fight blazing on the horizon, a massive battleship getting sucked into the flux vortex. Its hull was being torn apart, large chunks of paneling shooting into the sky.
Tulkun, too, were fighting.
They breached and twisted, landing their solid, heavy bodies onto smaller ships and boats, submerging them into a grim fate.
Then, to your right, you heard gasping.
You whipped your head towards it, and the world dropped out from under you.
Ronal was propped up against the rocks, a hand cradling her rounded stomach, the other clutching at a spear lodged in her collarbone.
You staggered towards her, her name leaving you in a frail, gravelly croak.
Kneeling beside her, she told you in no uncertain terms, "I am dying."
"No," you whispered. No, it— it wasn't possible, it wasn't.
Ronal was unbreakable, a fortress. Her castle walls touched the sky, their palisades sharpened into piercing points that would bleed out any enemy that dared approach.
"I am dying," she hissed. "But not before I deliver this baby."
You jolted into action, a puppet on strings, an unspeaking being telling you what to do.
Positioning yourself between her legs, you propped her foot up on your thigh and held the other open, tearing strips of her loincloth out of the way. She groaned, head tilting back to expose her throat as her stomach contracted.
You didn't know what drove you to help her. You didn't know what you were doing at all, but instinct steered you.
"I see it," you said, the babe crowning. "Push."
Ronal panted, and gave her all. Her strength was dwindling fast, too fast, and you clasped your fingers around hers.
"Again," you bid. "Again!"
For the first, and possibly last time, she listened to you.
With a cry, she pushed, and you quickly went to catch her baby.
Jesus, it was so small. A crumb. A new life.
You placed the newborn on Ronal's chest, supporting her arms as she held her baby.
"A girl," you said. "It's a girl."
Ronal shuddered, breathing shaky, uneven. "Pril. Her name is Pril."
Hazy eyes found yours, her pupils blown wide, lids heavy.
"You will protect her?" She asked you.
Whether it was out of trust, or because you were the only one present, it didn't matter.
"I promise," you vowed. "I'll protect her. I'll keep her safe. I'll get you back."
Ronal shook her head. "No. It is time for me to go. I cannot…"
You caught Pril a second time as Ronal went lax, her voice drifting off as she did. Cursing, you took the strips of fabric you'd ripped off Ronal's loincloth and made a shoddy, but functioning sling from them, one-handed at that. As soon as Pril was secured, you stood, and grabbed Ronal's arm on her uninjured side.
Grunting, you hauled her up, feet slipping on the wet rocks. She weighed too much for you, but you endured, resisted the gravity that threatened to splinter the joints in your knees.
"I will not let you die," you growled at her. Pril cried on your chest, and once you had Ronal's arm securely wrapped around your shoulder, you encased Pril's back in your palm, keeping her close as you bore Ronal's unconscious, slack weight, one step forward, the next, again, again, again.
The skerry you were on connected to the cave via a thin, submerged sand bar. Seconds, minutes, hours passed as you carried both Na'vi, your breaths coming in erratic, spasmic heaves.
At the edge of the cave, your voice echoed, breaking at its edges.
"Help!" You screeched, pleading, desperate. "Srung!"
The adrenaline could only carry you so far. You could feel Ronal's weight beginning to bring you down, your feet fumbling beneath you, slipping on the wet .
"I need help!" Tears were flowing down your cheeks, their paths searing you. "Please. Please, someone help me."
Just as you felt your knees were going to buckle, the dead weight becoming too much for you, it was lifted. You sobbed in relief, able to wrap both your arms around Pril's tiny body, cradling her to your chest.
Na'vi surrounded you, frenetically assessing the state of their tsahìk. Orders were shouted. One girl pressed a hand to Ronal's sternum, stock still.
"Po rusey!" She yelled.
All at once, havoc erupted. Multiple people helped carry Ronal, running towards the pop-up healing huts as quickly as they could without jostling her.
No sooner than you had been surrounded were you alone once more.
Only then did your knees give out, hitting the stone with a resounding crack. You hardly noticed the pain.
Pril fussed, wailing with all the might of her extraordinarily small lungs, squirming. You crushed her to your chest and cried, your face contorting from the effort.
"Oh, baby," you wept, pressing your ear to her head, bringing her to rest against your collarbone. "Oh, babygirl, my baby."
You cried, sat alone until someone came to retrieve you.
Tsireya.
Her eyes were wet, red-lined, brows furrowed, but she kept her tears at bay.
She knelt in front of you, her hands settling on your biceps.
"She lives," she whispered to you. "Because of you. You saved her."
You drew in a shuddering breath, and Tsireya sat patiently with you, not rushing you. She let you take the time you needed to calm down, for your cries to reduce to stuffy sniffles. As you calmed, so did Pril, sensing your heart slowing down and your breathing balancing.
"I can take her," Tsireya said, moving towards Pril.
She'll take her from you.
Panicked, you jerked back, causing the girl to blink in surprise.
"No," you rasped. "No, I c-can't. I can't. I'm sorry, I— I promised."
Her lips parted in understanding, and she nodded. "Okay. Okay, it is okay."
You exhaled, a leaden release from your core, and the exhaustion slammed into you like a massive wave, towing you under.
Saying no more, she helped you rise, her hands on your elbows as she walked backwards, guiding you further into the cave the village tucked away into. She led you into a different hut, the inside almost stiflingly warm. You sat down by the smoldering fire, instinctively rocking Pril.
Again, she reached for Pril, but did not take her. "May I?"
You opened and closed your mouth, resisting the urge to squeeze Pril tighter.
Seeing your reluctance, she clarified, "I will not take her from you. But I must check to make sure she is healthy. Only that, I promise."
You gnawed on your lip, looking down at the infant. She was so small, barely the size of both of your hands. You knew it was for the best to let Tsireya examine her, make sure there was nothing wrong, but it was hard to turn off the part of your brain screaming to never let her go.
Tentatively, you passed the baby over, obsessively ensuring her head was supported. Tsireya smiled at you placatingly, and rose, walking to a nearby mat.
For the moment, you slumped, exhaling a heavy breath. It came from deep inside, wrested from your very core.
It was all beginning to get to you, this all-devouring weight.
The adrenaline crash was brutal, winding you, and all you could do was sniffle and wipe at your eyes and nose with shaking, sore, tired hands. Your stomach clenched with nausea, being separated from Pril, but you tried to reassure yourself that she was right across the hut, not even ten feet away.
You watched, world-weary and beat, as Tsireya checked over her baby sister. She bent each of her little limbs at the joints, testing their range of motion. Skilled fingers massaged her tummy, feeling for any internal abnormalities.
Pril made small noises of discomfort, but did not cry or wriggle too much. Tsireya snapped her fingers beside each of Pril's ears, the appendages twitching at the noise in reaction.
Seemingly satisfied, Tsireya picked her up, and brought her back to you. Grateful, you took her again, immensely relieved to feel her featherlight weight settled on your arms.
"You must rest," Tsireya urged.
Once more, you sighed, peering down at Pril. The little one shifted, getting comfortable, then let out her own sigh. You smiled tiredly at the sound.
"Okay," you responded, too drained to fight.
The young girl helped you scoot over towards an open spot in the hut, tucked out of the way. She put down a fur hide for you, and propped up a few rolled up mats behind you for you to lean on.
"I will bring milk to feed her," she promised. You hummed in acknowledgment, and the girl rose up. She gave you one more worried, hesitant look, then left.
Fuck.
What were you going to do?
For some time, you sat with that thought, the words bouncing in an echo chamber that provided no answer, gave you nothing. You didn't know. You just… didn't know.
The quiet of the night was disturbed.
Tonowari burst into the hut, eyes rapidly darting around the space. He was panting, alarmed, until his gaze found you.
All at once, he deflated, his shoulders slumping.
On heavy feet, he closed the distance between you, and dropped to his knees. A hand settled on your shoulder, and for a long while, you both peered at Pril as she slept, taking in her presence, her little breaths, her curled fists. She was nuzzled into the cushion of your breast, allayed by the warmth of your skin.
Earlier, you removed your top, allowing the infant full contact. You figured the woven garment would be uncomfortable for her.
You couldn't find it in yourself to be embarrassed or ashamed, not caring that Tonowari could see your naked chest. You were sure it would haunt you for the rest of your life later, but at the moment, it didn't matter.
Eventually, he adjusted himself to sit cross-legged beside you, his hand absentmindedly drifting to the back of your neck.
"I owe you a debt I can never repay," he said, his voice drawn into a low rumble, wary of waking Pril.
You dragged your stare away from Pril, searching his expression. "What?"
"My mate, my other half," he hushed. "She lives because of you. Our daughter lives because of you. In this life and the next, I will never be able to repay this debt. No words exist to tell you how grateful I am to you."
You frowned. "No," you whispered. "No, it's— you don't owe me anything. I… I only did what anyone would."
He shook his head, insistent. "The People's tsahìk survived. A great loss has been prevented. A life did not have to be exchanged for another."
You blinked at him slowly, dry and heavy.
It did not feel as though you did something, anything, good. You felt like you were a failure. A mess. An ill omen on the People of this clan. Maybe, if not for you, Ronal would never have been injured. She never would have been so close to slipping into death's embrace.
You'd argue about the apparent debt later. Insist he owed you nothing. If anything, you owed him and his wife everything.
His rough, strong fingers massaged into the aching, tight muscle of your trapezius, and you held back a groan, the noise trapped in the bottom of your throat. He applied a heavenly pressure, one that you leaned back into, lashes fluttering shut.
Kindly, he continued, the painfulness beginning to ebb away under his skillful touch.
At some point, Tsireya returned, holding a small gourd with a narrow tip.
She passed it to Tonowari, who waited for you to reposition Pril before giving it to you.
Using your thumb, you rubbed her chubby cheek back and forth, coaxing her awake. She whined, twisting and writhing. Her mouth opened, and she took a few quick breaths, as if preparing to cry.
You placed the nozzle against her bottom lip, letting her find it herself. Once she closed her mouth around it, you tilted it up, allowing the milk to flow. She suckled, calming down as she tasted the milk and figured out what it was.
Nestled in the crook of your elbow, she drank her fill contentedly, so innocent and blissfully unaware of the evils wrought unto this world, the world she had been born into mere hours ago.
"I can't take care of her, not like this," you said softly.
Tonowari's brow furrowed. The fingers of his free hand lightly rubbed at one of Pril's feet. "What do you mean?"
You drew in a long breath. "This body. I can't… I can't take care of her if I'm trapped between two places," you explained, voice hoarse from your earlier crying.
"What do you suggest?" He asked.
The request sat heavy on your mind, for more reasons than one.
To start with, you didn't even know if he'd be willing to help you. You didn't know what went into the process to begin with, having only heard of it down the pipeline of rumors and through the proof of images.
Second, it was… hard to fathom, to reckon with.
The idea seemed so distant and far-fetched. It was like trying to visualize death, to imagine what it'd be like. Your brain just couldn't grasp onto the idea properly, viewing it as more of a dream than a possible reality.
And you'd be losing yourself. Forever.
Not you, but… you. The you that you had known all your life, the one you saw in the mirror, the one sleeping in a gel bed in some neglected shack on some one-off island. You'd be losing the part of you that was entirely you, not just 50% of your DNA spliced with 50% Na'vi DNA.
But in the short time that you had Pril, the hours you kept her to your heart, you knew you had to. You couldn't take care of two bodies while tending to a baby. You couldn't split yourself apart, live a life in that body and another in this. It wasn't possible in any existence.
You had to do it.
"Jake Sully," you spoke his name as if it was dangerous. It was dangerous. "I want to do what he did."
Tonowari's hand stilled on your neck. "The transfer ceremony?"
"Yes," you confirmed.
His jaw fluttered, teeth grinding together. "Are you certain? This is not a decision to be made lightly. It cannot be undone."
A single tear escaped, tracking down your cheek.
"I have to," you said with finality. "I have to. For her."
He lightly squeezed the back of your neck, persuading you to look at him.
"I will help," he promised. "It will be done."
You sagged in relief, your eyelids closing. You were terrified, of course you were, how could you not be?
But you were more scared of what would happen if you didn't. What would become of Pril.
She needed you.
Maybe you needed her, too.
"Thank you," you whispered.
Tonowari gave no reply, but he stayed with you, keeping watch. He stayed until Pril finished eating, and instructed you on how to burp her properly, praising you as you patted her back. The infant grumbled the whole time, and you two shared a quiet laugh at her displeasure.
Afterwards, he took the gourd, placing it aside. He coerced a stray piece of your hair to move away, unsticking it from the sweat and tears of your skin.
"Rest," he instructed. "In this body, and your human one. Tsireya will stay with you tonight to watch over Pril."
As he said it, the curtain over the door was moved aside, allowing Tsireya to enter. She was carrying a basket full of various materials, and though she looked tired herself, she certainly had much more energy than you.
"You won't take her?" You asked her.
She shook her head. "No. I will stay here. I will not go anywhere, and she will not either."
"And you won't allow anyone else to take her."
"I will not."
Somewhat eased, you mumbled your agreement, and let Tonowari help you lay down. For now, you were allowed to keep holding Pril, who had fallen back asleep.
"Tomorrow," he said. "At dawn. We will perform the ceremony."
It didn't give you much time to sleep, neither in this body nor the other, but it'd be enough. No matter what time, you'd be there.
"Thank you," you repeated your gratitude again.
He rubbed your bicep in farewell, then rose, saying something to Tsireya that was too soft for you to hear. You were quickly fading, anyway, the muted noises around you drifting away until blackness took hold.
And you were awake in your human body once more.
Dawn came slowly, too slowly, yet all far too soon.
You woke bleary-eyed and bone tired, sleep having evaded you all night. What was to come haunted you, playing in your mind on a broken track, looping at the part where you'd be separated from yourself to become a seed planted in a being only half yours.
You were going to die.
There was no two-ways about it. The truth of the matter was that at least one part of you was going to meet its end. If the transfer didn't work, then… then you'd truly die. And you doubted Eywa would welcome you into her arms to live amongst her children within her.
You avoided thinking about that outcome as much as you could, though it scratched at the inner walls of your skull like nails on chalkboard.
It wasn't a choice.
Pril needed you.
You promised.
You vowed to a dying Ronal that you would guard Pril with your life. Maybe becoming a pseudo-parent wasn't part of the request, but you meant what you said. You'd use your life, every fiber of your being, to be her sentinel, her shield against all in the world that would dare try harm her.
You'd worry about what came next when you reached it, bridges yet to be reached, uncrossed.
For now, all you could do was survive.
There were only two instances of an attempted transference of consciousness from human body to avatar. An abysmal pool to gather data from, but the coin flip was clear.
Heads or tails.
50% chance you die. 50% chance you live.
More or less.
For Grace Augustine, may she rest in peace, it was evident why she didn't make it. Even you knew the story of the great doctor and her attempt, how she was too injured, too close to the gateway between worlds, to endure the transfer.
You weren't harmed, your body was in one piece.
It didn't take away the fear. The terror.
You were afraid. Lying about it helped nothing, nobody, least of all yourself.
For Pril, you reminded yourself. For her.
For her mother, who could not cuddle and dote upon her daughter herself. For her father, whose threads were pulled near snapping by his duties as leader to a clan suffering from war.
And maybe, just maybe, for yourself, too. For a chance to live a life unburdened by the weight of what you were before you came to Pandora. What awaited you at the end of your rotation. For a chance to breathe this sweet air always, and never have to exist under the oppressive thumb of an organization hellbent on destroying everything they touched.
Resource Development Administration.
They certainly lived up to their name of developing resources. They just never told you that they happily scorched the lands of other planets, other worlds, to harvest what they wanted.
Unobtanium from the forest, amrita from the tulkun.
Life from the very Mother herself.
Running a hand down your face, you groaned, sitting up in the shoddy cot you slept on. Your back and neck ached, and there were deeply grooved impression lines all over your arms and legs.
You envied your avatar body, All it had to do to sleep was have you disconnect.
Though, you supposed that would change today.
As you got out of bed, ruffled and disgruntled, a tentative hand rapped on the window of the shack. You spotted a Na'vi outside, one of the two that guarded the shack and, subsequently, your human self.
Not bothering to eat, you donned an exo-pack and let the shack pressurize before opening the door and stepping outside.
It felt weird, being out here in this form. The air felt different on your skin, and breathing was harder through the mask, the filtered oxygen tasting vaguely dusty and of metal.
"Ayoe zene salew," He said. You barely picked out a couple words, but you knew what he meant.
A little ways off the beach, your other guard awaited, sat on an ilu. Another one was beside him, his hand lightly stroking its head.
The first man gently lifted you onto the back of the second ilu, then climbed on himself behind you, making tsaheylu.
"Niä sìn," he instructed.
You grabbed onto the two thick queues of the ilu, holding on as tightly as you could.
At once, they both dived beneath the waves. Instinctively, you held your breath until you no longer could, and exhaling sharply to suck in fresh air. You initially expected the mask to flood, drown you in your own contained sea, but it held steady, filtering air from the water to provide to you.
The ocean drifted past you. Fish and otterfins, zukzuk, swam in and out of large, bell-shaped flora, or twirled between stretching reeds. Sea anemonoids swayed to and fro, the tides merciful, too delicate to rend them from their perches on colorful corals.
A Nom's Delight proudly displayed its tendrils, teal blue and adept at catching plankton.
In the middle of it all was you, both so out of place and right where you belonged.
In another life, somewhere far from here, another universe, another timeline — you liked to think that in that life, you were born in the sea, and lived among its residents. A native to the boundless cerulean, at home where you were happy and free.
But that girl lived another life, and you lived this one.
This one where you were transported to the Metkayina's most sacred, valued place.
Their Spirit Tree was beautiful.
It swayed gently in the current, its fronds extending far and wide, glowing a mellow and serene violet. Pink veins ran along the middles of the fronds, spreading out in nourishing tendrils.
Tonowari was already there, prepared. Some healers were also nearby, as well as Ao'nung. You wondered where Tsireya was, then realized she was likely with Pril. You hoped, anyway. That was all you had, nowadays.
Hope.
Tonowari had brought your avatar with him. She was curled into a fetal position, eyes closed, her queue connected to one of the fronds. Periodically, she twitched, but otherwise did not move. You would have freaked out if she did, really. If she awoke without you in her, developing a soul of her own.
Leaving you behind, stuck in this body.
You slipped off the ilu when prompted to, and Tonowari took your hand, pulling you towards him and the Spirit Tree.
He made a strange gesture, expanding his chest without breathing in. It took you a second to figure out he wanted you to take a deep breath, so you followed suit, doing it as many times as he wanted you to.
Then, he nudged you towards the Tree, pressing your back against a frond close to your avatar. He pulled others closer, too, wrapping your body in them to keep you against the Tree.
You were sure it felt strange, wrong, for him to be doing this without his tsahìk and mate to guide the ceremony. You were immensely grateful he agreed to do it in spite of this. He must have known enough about it to know how to do it himself, with few others present.
Hope was all you had, and you could only hope it would be enough.
There was only one signed word Tonowari had taught you, in preparation for this. There wasn't enough time to teach you more, and you really only needed one.
Ready? He signed.
"Yes," you said back, and clumsily signed the word back.
He smiled at you, then drifted toward the Tree. He brought his own kuru from over his shoulder, allowing it to bond with it. The others nearby followed suit, lending their strength, their desire, to the living wonder.
You took one more deep breath, closed your eyes, and let the ocean consume you whole.
At first, nothing happened. There was darkness, and the faint pulse of the Tree at your back, but little else.
Just as you began to worry, you felt a zap go through your entire body, muscles stiffening before going completely limp.
You felt as though you had been pulled from your body, your soul ripped clean free and brought into a vast expanse where nothing and everything existed simultaneously, harmoniously. You floated here, a universe at your fingertips, yet so far away, untouchable.
You gasped, whipping around, searching for… something.
In the far distance, you saw it:
A light.
Tender, velvet violet, it thumped in time to a heartbeat, one you hadn't noticed until it was all you could hear, not your own breath, not your own heart.
A moth to flame, you floated to it, captivated and afraid and so deeply, immensely in love. Up close, it veiled everything else, vibrant and alive in a way you had no words to describe.
It was Pandora's nucleus, its essence concentrated into very foundational components.
Its pulse, what kept the land and sea and sky thriving and wondrous. It gave life to everything, and let the energy it gifted come back to it when the time came for the life bearing it above to return.
Was this Eywa? The goddess, the deity, the Na'vi spoke of? Their All Mother?
It called to you, whisper-soft words you couldn't discern kissing your ears, brushing over your hair, leaching into your bloodstream. Unable to resist, you stretched toward it. Your arm changed with each nictation of your eyes, alternating between normal and turquoise.
Come, the choir sang, not so much aloud as implanted in your mind, a coaxing siren you heard and didn't hear. Come to me.
As soon as your fingertips brushed the warm, lavender light, it engulfed you.
It entered your chest, your limbs, your head. It bled into your eyes and ears, and tore your being apart at the molecular level. You were shredded, atoms shorn to be rebuilt anew. The you that existed now ruptured, marrow separated from bone, breath separated from lung.
Sundered.
You shattered, soul and spirit and soma slivered into ribbons.
Death bit into your flesh to rip it to pieces. It entered your mouth, lodged itself in your throat. Your chest spasmed, unable to inhaled the oxygen you needed. Your heart pounded faster and faster, the muscle straining to circulate the cruor inside you. Its beats reduced into feverish pulses.
Then nothing.
Your corpse came to with something covering your mouth and pinching your nose shut.
Eyes snapping open, you glanced around in a panic, trying to find the source of your suffocation.
Tonowari floated before you, expression creased with concern.
He signed something, and you automatically reacted, calming down bit by bit. Once satisfied that you wouldn't thrash and drown yourself in your terror, he nodded to someone. They swam over and retracted an object at your back. Then, they placed a gelatinous form on your back, connecting it to you.
The burning in your chest abated, not quite gone, but muffled.
Pins and needles lingered in your skeleton, as if you were coming out of a long sleep. Your own anatomy was useless to you in the moment, so Tonowari pulled you with him to a tsurak. He sat on the saddle and put you at the front, arm looped around your waist to keep you in place.
The tsurak bolted upward, and you drank in a forceful, almost violent heave of air the second you broke through the ocean's shell.
Gasping, you dug your nails into the saddle, shuddering and lurching.
"Mawey," Tonowari yipped. "Mawey, tanhì oeyä. You are alright. Calm, be calm."
Easier said than done. It took you long minutes to settle down, and you slumped into his chest, wrung dry. Figuratively speaking.
"You did it," he told you. "You passed through Eywa's Eye and came back to us."
Spent, you asked in a weak cadence, "It's done?"
"Yes," he said, hugging you tighter. "It is done."
Relief and grief surged through you, a loss, a gain. Insurmountable, they left you wheezing and sapped of all energy.
You did it. You actually did it.
Had you the wherewithal, you would have cheered, celebrated. You would have supped the air and tasted its sweetness, appreciated the wind on your cheeks, the lapping waves at your ankles.
But you were beaten and worn, finding no more energy to do much but lean back into Tonowari.
"Rest. You survived," Tonowari congratulated you quietly.
So you let yourself relax completely, trusting he'd get you back safely.
The mothers of the clan, whose children weren't much older than Pril, had taken you in.
They taught you their Songs, their language. They laughed when you butchered words, but never at you, encouraging you to try again.
The more experienced mothers taught you how to properly hold Pril, supporting her head and neck. They taught you how to sit her somewhat upright during feedings, saying it was more comfortable.
You asked how, and Lo'koä demonstrated by laying down and drinking water as fast as she could. She started coughing, having to roll onto her side to hack out the excess liquid while the other women laughed hysterically.
"Kame? Ayoe heyn pehrr ayoe naer," See? We sit when we drink. "Nìftxan po sweylu, nìhawng." So she should, too.
Ah. Got it.
They shared their stories, clarifying the parts you didn't understand. You, in turn, shared yours in broken Na'vi. Like Makani had been with you, they were patient, correcting your mistakes with light nudges and accepting smiles.
You asked Ze'te, the main healer looking over Ronal, to call you whenever you could see her. Faithfully, about every three or so days, she'd steal you from the mothers' circle to visit Ronal.
The clan's tsahìk had been unconscious since you brought her, crying for aid.
But you sat next to her, Pril always with you, and spoke to them.
"This is your mom," you told Pril every time. "Sa'nok. She's sleeping right now, but she'll meet you soon. I'm sure she can't wait."
Pril made noises. Not really babbles, she was too young for those, but she grunted and grumbled, entirely uninterested unless it involved eating or sleeping. Oftentimes, your visits coincided with her feeding times, and you had a sneaking suspicion that she began associating the healers' marui with food. She'd wriggle and whine until you got her milk to guzzle down.
Trrva, a mother who, too, adopted a infant, suggested you try dribbling the milk down your breast and have Pril sort of pseudo nurse on you. It was weird, and tricky to figure out. She had to help you the first week you took her up on the offer, but you eventually got the hang of it.
She said it was important for a babe to feed from a nipple, rather than the stiff tip of a gourd. The hard wood could cause damage to her gums, and complicate the growth of her teeth in a few months.
While you weren't lactating, you made it work, too worried about causing her harm down the line to care about the odd arrangement. Whatever it took to give her a good life and the best chance at thriving
Sometimes Tonowari was there during your visits. His stays were shorter than yours, lasting the brief few minutes he could find in his busy schedule to see his wife. He'd sit next to you, hand on your shoulder, or the back of your neck. Mostly, he didn't talk, just sat and watched his wife breathe steadily. If he had time, he'd pray, but those days were rare.
You never missed a visit. You practiced your Na'vi where you had nobody to correct you, wanting to figure it out yourself, see if you could remember. The things you could remember you set aside, either to try again later, or to ask someone for help.
"Oeyä prrnen," you said, kissing her forehead anytime she fussed. "You have to be nice to your sa'nu when she wakes up. She won't be very strong, so she needs you to be strong for her, sran?"
When she slept, you turned your attention to Ronal, rubbing your thumb on the back of her knuckles.
"Wake up soon, okay? Your baby misses you. She needs you."
You always left after about an hour, when Ze'te came to take you back to the circle. It never got easier.
You hoped, prayed, that Ronal would wake up. Soon, later, whenever, so long as she did.
For the first time in weeks, Tonowari could let out a breath of air.
Recovering from a war was difficult, victorious or not. Many of his people had been lost, many more injured, nevermind the hundreds of others from fellow clans. Once more, Toruk Makto had led them to triumph against the sky people, the third Great Sorrow coming to an end, but that was only half the battle.
The other half came in the form of managing those that had survived; leading efforts to rebuild what had been destroyed, organizing hunting parties out of the warriors that were minimally injured and able-bodied. The healers needed resources to care for the wounded, homes needed restoring, debris needed clearing. Councils had to be held between the clans to discuss who needed help most and how aid could be distributed, the tulkun had their own troubles.
It was a lot. Took a lot out of him.
But, if only for a moment, there was peace.
Most of the clan had long since gone to bed, lanterns turned low and the curtain-doors of what maruis remained closed. A few stragglers remained; healers and guards on rotation that protected the perimeter, keeping an eye out for trouble. The war might have been won, but there was no telling what danger remained, if any. Tonowari had to be vigilant for the sake of his people.
Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, feeling the exhaustion weighing heavy on his bones as he stepped out of the commander's hut. All matters that could be settled for the day had been, emergencies and urgent matters tended to. The next council wasn't until midday, and he knew he needed to take the chance to rest a few scant hours before the work began again.
However, he felt he had one duty left to attend to. He'd be unable to rest otherwise.
His steps were silent on the woven pathways of his village as he passed by homes, periodically peeking in one to check on the recovering beings inside. All were sound asleep, lights extinguished as they lied in hammocks and on sleeping mats, some covered in blankets and others bared.
All but one.
The marui you'd been given in gratitude for saving his wife and child, and for siding with his people, was small, meant to house only one or two people. The shade on one window was lowered halfway, but the doorway was still bound open, letting the dim glow of a lantern bleed through.
As he stopped outside the door, a hand resting on the arch, he found you on the floor, rocking Pril back and forth. The infant fretted, squirming, her face pinched in displeasure.
You cooed at her, soft and low, and oh-so careful in how you carried her. You kept her close to your bosom, and Tonowari was subtly chuffed to see you wearing the clothes of his people, no longer dressed in demon's fabric. Not since that night you came to them, hysterical and risking your life to ferry a message. The skin-on-skin was vital for Pril, the warmth of your body acting as an innate comfort to her.
It was hard for him to believe you never had children of your own. It took a few short minutes of whispering and crooning to Pril for her irritation to settle down, something that took him and Ronal months to learn when their first came into this world. In his eyes, you were a natural at it, made for motherhood.
"That's it," you murmured when Pril's weeping quieted into even breathing, running your extra finger down the length of the baby's nose in a featherlight touch. "You're okay. I've got you."
Having yet to notice him, Tonowari cleared his throat, causing you to startle minutely at his presence.
"Oh— Tono— ah, sorry. Olo'eyktan," you stuttered awkwardly. "Is there something you need?"
"Just Tonowari is fine," he said, his accent softened by the night. "May I enter?"
You nodded immediately, as if the thought of turning him away hadn't crossed your mind. He walked into the small space, the distance between you closed in a few short strides of his. Languid, he crouched down in front of you, his eyes going to his daughter.
Pril was fast asleep, her cheek pressed to the top of your chest, ear occasionally twitching. Her stubby tail was relaxed, draped over the crook of your arm in a way that reminded him of when Ao'nung was her age. The boy never grew out of the habit of letting his tail hang over the edge of his hammock, undeterred by the amount of times it'd been accidentally stepped on in the middle of the night.
It struck Tonowari, then and there, that Pril being in your arms looked right.
She was hardly a crumb, astronomically tiny compared to her siblings, yet she fit in the cradle of your embrace so perfectly. Always meant to be.
Perhaps this is why Eywa led you to them.
At first, he only saw you as a dreamwalker, another one of them. Allowing you to side with them wasn't trust, it was to keep his enemy close, ensuring he could be there if you tried to sabotage them.
When he heard that you had stumbled into the camp with Pril on your chest and an unconscious Ronal on your back, he initially assumed you had killed them, and brought them back to taunt him. A stab directly through the heart of the Metkayina, taking them down by kicking out the pillar that held them up.
But you were crying. Begging for help, telling them Ronal was alive, dying, save her.
In the chaos of it all, he didn't have time to process what was happening. He had to focus on the battle, on finishing this war that the sky people started.
Tsireya told him that you bared your teeth at her when she tried to take Pril, then immediately softened in regret.
"No, I can't, I'm sorry," she relayed your words. "I promised I'd protect her."
In that moment, Tonowari knew he could trust you in his home, with his people.
With Pril.
A difficult decision in the heat of the moment, but relief overcame him to know it had been the correct one.
He didn't know what you said to Ronal before you brought her and Pril back, what you promised, but keeping Pril safe was evidently your main concern. You took the task to heart, never once letting the infant stray from your sight. It was for her sake that you transferred bodies, made the permanent choice to discard the life you lived and loved for one entirely stranger to you. You sacrificed everything you had for his daughter.
For that alone, he would forever be in your debt, and would always respect you as one of his own.
"Do you want to hold her?" You asked, shifting her.
He shook his head. "Another time," his voice rumbled. "You worked hard to soothe her. I will not ruin your efforts."
You smiled at him, tired but grateful.
His eyes moved from Pril to you, then to your hair, and he frowned.
It was a mess of tangles and clumps, neglected past quick, rudimentary washes between Pril's naps. It looked clean, but horridly dry and matted.
Right. You were alone, having nobody to take care of you while you had your hands busy with Pril. Your own needs had been taken off the flame and set elsewhere, forgotten entirely in the face of such troublesome times.
Taking a strand, he ran it between his fingers, his frown deepening at the tiny knots he felt.
"I will fix this," he stated bluntly.
You froze in place, mouth opening and closing in resemblance to a fish. Memories flickered behind your lids, making you grimace.
"Oh!" You breathed out, mindful of the sleeping bundle you carried. "No, no, that's okay! I know you're busy, I'll just deal with it in the morning, so—"
He leveled you with a flat look and repeated, "I will fix this."
You deflated, shoulders and ears sinking. Your tail, wrapped around the side of your body, twitched nervously. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I am sure."
"Okay," you conceded. "Thank you."
Giving you a firm nod, he let go of your hair and rose to his feet. "I will return shortly."
Your gaze followed him as he left, and you pouted, glancing down at Pril.
"What have I gotten myself into? Mm?" You muttered. She, of course, gave no response beyond a baby-sized snort in her sleep. A wispy laugh bubbled up, and you tapped the tip of her nose. "You're no help."
True to his word, Tonowari came back minutes later, bearing a small basket and some sort of folded cloth, which he set down on the floor as he knelt behind you. Curious, you peeked into the basket and saw a plethora of oils stored in small jars, combs, beads, shells, and feather-like accessories.
Skilled, weapon-worn fingers retrieved a bone comb from the basket, and you sat up straighter as he went right to work, not keen on wasting time. He grouped up your hair at your back and drew the comb through the bottom inches, making his way up. He was surprisingly gentle, pausing at each knot to methodically unwind it. He was swift, but careful, making sure he caused you no pain.
Practiced. He'd done this before, plenty of times, the movements as natural to him as swimming.
It was unexpected.
Growing up on earth, you learned that, if there was a lot of hair to be maintained, it was a woman's job. Your mother did your hair until you learned to do it yourself, the salons you visited were all run by women. The men on the street with extravagant styles and brightly-colored tresses hired women to do it.
Your own father had scoffed in your mother's face when she offered to teach him how to braid your hair, or put it in a proper tie. The one time he tried to brush your hair, he yanked the brush from scalp to end, tearing a section clean out. He later used it as proof of him being incapable of a job meant for mother, not father.
The dismissal was something that had persisted from old times, your mother told you. The people of the past, some 100-odd years ago, viewed women the same way they did in modern times; mules, workhorses, personal maids and caterers to the 'mundane' jobs that men did not want to do. It was something you grew up expecting from men, only allowing room for pleasant surprise when the odd one out offered to help you in whatever boring task you were doing.
Part of you unfairly expected Tonowari to be the same.
You never considered that the Na'vi did things differently, saw things differently. You forgot that tasks were to be divided among the clan by the capable, not by gender. It only made sense that Tonowari was raised along those ideals; everyone shares the load.
Your tightened muscles loosened one by one, the fear of him being careless and cruel dissipating alongside each thorough glide of the comb through your hair.
About halfway up, your exhaustion was getting to you, eyes heavy and dry. Your head tipped forward, and Tonowari nimbly put his fingers under your chin, angling it back up.
"Stay awake a while longer," he murmured. "I will try to be swift."
"Mhmm," you responded, lashes fluttering over your cheeks. Behind you, he chuckled, a noise you more felt in your spine than heard.
He smoothed out the remaining tangles disrupting your hair, able to pick up the pace afterwards. Skilled fingers drew the comb along your scalp, parting strands into even sections. The ones he didn't need at the moment got swept aside and loosely tied with a strip of reed thread. The rasp of callused digits splitting the first section into smaller pieces sent a pleasant shiver down your back, goosebumps rising in its wake.
In her sleep, Pril huffed, snuggling into the warmth of your breast, inherently trusting that you'd guard her against anyone and anything.
"She feels secure with you," Tonowari said, pausing to observe. "I fear if I took her, she'd panic, become afraid."
You blinked your eyes open, readjusting your hold on her. "S'not true," you mumbled. "You're her father."
He hummed in acknowledgment. "I have not been present," he stated rather calmly, though notes of regret came through. "She would not recognize me. All she knows is you."
You didn't have a rebuttal, not this late into the night, when you were drawn to your thinnest thread and hanging from it with all your remaining strength. As much as you wished to refute him, reassure him that his own flesh and blood would know him, you didn't have it in you.
You never had children of your own. You had no frame of reference, no way to tell what was and wasn't normal.
A traitorous little part of you whispered that he was right. You were all Pril had, her only reliable source of trust and comfort, the only one who could tend to her as she needed. If not for you, there would be nobody; her father was too busy managing the clan, her siblings too young, and her mother…
You slumped a bit, weary and long-suffering.
You had so much to think about, but the little one took up all your time. From dawn to dusk to dawn again, she was just as much your entire world as you were hers. Had you wrapped around her smallest finger and didn't even know it.
Her slow, steady breaths and Tonowari's careful weaving lulled you into a dozing state, still present to stay upright and continue rocking Pril. A mild, barely-there cadence, back and forth, back and forth, keeping her content as she slept, unaware of the greater world. Unaware of anything but you, the warmth of your bosom, the pulsing of your heart.
Coral jars clinked softly together as Tonowari moved some things around in the basket, your curiosity dulled by fatigue. Your scalp felt a little tight, but free in a way, too. Like you'd been wearing a thick coat in a desert and finally took it off. Air could circulate now and didn't stifle you, or give you migraines from heat getting trapped in the nest of hair you couldn't be bothered to fix.
You hear him spread a fragrant oil over his palms, then he gathered the rest of your hair at the back of your head, running his hands over it a few times to partially distribute the oil. Then, he separated it into sections once more, albeit much fewer this time.
He coated your hair in the oil as he pulled the tails together into a tight braid, periodically reapplying a thin layer as he went. He worked your kuru into the braid, not as part of the tails, but rather what they wrapped around.
Braid inception. Braids within braids.
You almost laughed; it came out more like a huff through your nostrils.
Tonowari must have taken it to mean you were growing impatient with him.
"I will finish in a moment, I promise," he said placated.
"'S okay," you mumbled back, hardly processing what he said.
He maintained his fixed pace all the way until he was done, using a leather strap to secure the end of your braid to your kuru.
"There. Finished," he said. "This will keep it out of the way, and prevent tangles. Come to me when it needs to be redone."
You inhaled and fluttered your lashes, trying to blink the sleep away. "'Kay, I will. Thank you, Tonowari."
He hummed in reply and busied himself with gathering what he used to return to the basket. You made to stand, but swayed lightly as you got to your knees. Sudden panic at the thought of accidentally dropping Pril or — Eywa forbid — falling on her seized you, and you gasped.
Instantly, hands were on you, big palms spread across your waist and hips to anchor you.
They were warm, and rough, but oh-so painfully benevolent, hardly applying any pressure, as if afraid you'd simply shatter.
"Easy," Tonowari rumbled. "Easy. I will help."
He rose to his feet, his hands shifting up your form as he went. He stepped around to your front and, with his fingers closed around your biceps, he aided you up. Even after finding your balance, he didn't let go, not fully.
Hovering an arm around your lower back, ready to catch you if anything happened, he patiently guided you toward your bed mat. Wherever his touch was needed, he let it settle there naturally; at your hip as you turned, at your elbow as you lowered yourself, and at the back of your neck as you sat, your tail slapping the woven floor in tired finality.
He watched observantly as you laid Pril on her back in the spot you designated as hers on your sleeping mat, doing your utmost to avoid rousing her. Only after you had her situated did you lay down yourself, an arm pillowing your head, a hand curled around Pril, tucking her close to your chest.
For a few seconds, Tonowari vanished from your line of sight, and you thought he already left. But he returned, unfurling a woven blanket. You realized, delayed, that it was the cloth he'd brought in with him earlier.
He draped it over you, the fabric whisper soft compared to the usual rough texture of woven Na'vi materials.
Diligently, he tucked it around both you and Pril, ensuring the edges wouldn't come loose. You blinked up at him, third eyelids not fully receding, your body too spent to control the muscles.
He crouched down at your head, his own tilting minutely to one side.
"Sleep," he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek. "You are safe here."
For the first time in weeks, it felt like everything would truly be alright. Like it was okay for you to get some rest, too, not weighed down by guilt or the never-ending swarm of thoughts that refused to abate.
You closed your eyes, and fell asleep before he could leave.
Ronal woke slow, groggy.
The world filtered into her consciousness in bite-sized pieces; the muffled sound of chatter broken by the far off woosh of waves. Dim light bleeding into her retinas through her sticky eyelashes.
She cycled like that, between sleep and conscious, dead and alive.
It was not easy.
There were moments where she was lucid enough to understand the healers as they asked her to blink, or drink herbal teas.
In different moments, she was half there and half not. Focused on a single, faraway spot, a star in a different galaxy.
Time was meaningless here to her.
It passed in increments between awareness and darkness. It moved regardless of her input, but controlled the speed at which she healed. Though she did not know exactly what happened to her yet, her memories foggy, she knew that she had been gravely wounded. She believed she'd die, believed she was dead.
Yet here she was, in pain, but very much alive.
Being a healer herself did not make recovery any easier. The very things she told her patients, she wanted to go against. When Ze'te helped her sit upright, she wanted to stand and get back to her tasks as tsahìk. She wanted to check on the clan, tend to the injured, stand beside Tonowari as they rebuilt what was broken and mourned what was lost.
Ze'te kept a close eye on her, though, thwarting her attempts at pushing herself too hard, too soon. Damn the woman. She was right, yes, but that did not lessen Ronal's inner wrath.
"I will pluck your eyes from your head," Ronal once threatened.
"Yes, tsahìk, as you wish. But only after you have fully healed. The other girls fear you."
"They do not fear me."
"You made Tsu'll cry when she offered you a drink."
"…After this is done, I will turn your liver into soup to feed the ilu with."
Ze'te had the nerve to grin cheekily at her. "When you have the strength to defeat me, you may."
"Bratty girl."
"Taught by the very best."
There was little Ronal could do but wile away the days, going a bit further each new dawn to test her limits.
Standing was… a challenge. A greater one than she anticipated.
Her legs shook beneath her like that of pa'li, or of toddlers using their parents' tails to test their balance. It was certainly comparable, given she needed Ze'te to support her anytime she needed to move to relieve herself. A lesson in humility.
Though she'd done the same for others many times, and always beseeched them to not feel ashamed, those same emotions plagued her.
It all had to come crashing down one day, though.
"Where is my daughter?"
Ze'te paused, halfway through grinding new herbs to spread onto Ronal's healing injury.
She hesitated, then answered. "She is with the dreamwalker."
Ronal froze.
"…What?"
Ze'te did not turn to face her. "Yes. The dreamwalker has been caring for her, day and night," Ze'te explained. "The mothers have been teaching her, too. She is doing well. Your daughter is healthy, and—"
Before Ze'te could finish, Ronal shoved herself to her feet, her expression twisted into one of pure, unadulterated wrath and disgust.
She stormed out of the building, disregarding Ze'te's cries of shock and pleas for her to return. She chased after her tsahìk, but Ronal only shook her off every time Ze'te tried to grab her, her grasp too lose in fear of hurting the woman.
Ronal stomped across the pathways between maruis, pouring all her focus into ignoring the agony radiating through her body. She was determined to find you, rip her baby from your arms, and curse you out until you preferably crumbled to dust at her feet.
At least, that was the plan.
A soft sound caused her to stagger, a hand shooting out to clutch at a nearby marui as she stopped. Her ears twitched forward, trying to pinpoint the sound. It was low and soothing, and her feet carried her towards it unconsciously, careful and quiet. As she rounded a bend, she realized the noise was coming from your marui.
From you.
Cautiously, she peeked in through an open window, back pressed to the side of the structure to stay hidden. You were none the wiser, and she could see why.
You cradled Pril so delicately that it made her stomach swoop. She was so small in your arms, and you seemed painfully aware of that at all times as you leaned back against the pillar in the center of the marui and held her with both your arms. Your chin was tipped downwards, your mouth forming around the lyrics of one of the tribe's songs, singing softly to the infant you embraced like you'd be torn apart without her.
Your Na'vi was rough, the words you weren't familiar with mumbled and garbled, but your voice was gentle and sweet. You were trying for her, for Pril.
From where Ronal stood, she couldn't see your face, your head turned away from her, but she could see Pril's.
Her baby was looking up at you with pure wonder in her eyes, her tiny mouth twitching into a gummy smile as she kicked her little feet. You laughed near-silently and cupped Pril's tiny face, brushing a thumb over her chubby cheek as her tail smacked your ribs. It'd be years before Pril gained proper control of the appendage, but it seemed you didn't mind in the slightest. If anything, it made you coo at her in adoration, rather than annoyance.
Humans were nothing but scum. They didn't care for their own home and Mother, they let her die, killed her. Why would they care for their young, let alone the young of others? If they had no respect for those that came before, they could have no respect for those who came after, no love, no desire to guide them to be strong and wise.
Of that, Ronal was certain.
But you…
Ronal could not make any more exceptions, not after Jakesully and his family arrived and brought their war with them. She could not find space in her heart to allow another vrrtep onto her land, her waters, into her home. Everything was sacred, every life and thought and breath. Demons like you trampled all over anything sacred; you were a pestilence, a disease she needed to excise. There was nobody, nobody—
Nobody like you, who sacrificed your time, all you knew, everything you had and wanted, for the sake of another's precious life.
You'd given away everything to uphold your promise, your vow, to Ronal, and did more than that. It was more than protecting Pril, bringing her to the village where she could be guarded and tended to by the People. It was you sitting there, bearing the weight of a newborn on your own. Hushing her as she put up a fuss after you stopped singing, and pressing your lips to her forehead in the most featherlight of kisses. Stroking two fingers over her belly to ease her discomfort, resting your thumb over the drum of her minuscule heart.
It was you.
Making no noise, Ronal stepped away from your marui. She walked away, the sound of your voice ringing in her ears like a bell. Ze'te welcomed her back into the healing hut with immense relief, but she paid her no mind as she helped her sit down.
"Be kind to the dreamwalker," Ze'te hissed. "You must be grateful. She saved you."
Ze'te checked over her wound to make sure she hadn't aggravated it in her stormy fury. She chided Ronal, but Ronal had already allowed her eyes to drift shut. She needed time. She needed to think.
And she thought best when meditating and praying to Eywa.
Ma'Eywa, 'upe si oe si?
All she had known was turned on its head in less than ten minutes.
She woke up after having been certain she would die. She learned she had been asleep for weeks, was told you, of all people, had saved her, and when she asked about her baby, it was one of her own protégés that informed Ronal that you were taking care of the infant. Had been for weeks.
She felt an anger like no other. Anger at herself for failing her baby, her family. Anger at Tonowari and the clan for allowing you to so much as touch Pril. Anger at you for daring to.
Yet, you held Pril like she was your own.
Ronal couldn't deny that you kept your promise, both of them. You protected Pril with your life, and somehow, some way, you brought Ronal back to the village. You saved her life. And in the time that Ronal was unconscious, fighting to survive and heal, you had taken Pril as your responsibility.
Ze'te told her as much. She told her that you visited Ronal every few few days, by your request, and told the infant stories about her mother as you did so. You cleaned her, burped her, and rocked her to sleep. You fed her yourself, using the technique Trrva used for her adopted child. You walked around the village with her when she got antsy and restless, and the few chances you got to sleep, you kept her tucked against you, embraced in your arms.
Safe.
Though— something didn't add up.
You were uniltìranyu; a dreamwalker. Whenever your avatar body slept, you were ejected back into your human body. Had you brought your human body to the village so you could keep an eye on Pril in either form? No, from her understanding, that'd require you to bring over a large skyperson machine that'd allow you to hop between bodies. And even then, your human body would need rest just as much as your avatar one did.
Just how—
Ze'te glanced at Ronal, reading her mind, and said, "She gave up her tawtute form."
Ronal's brow furrowed. "What?"
Ze'te shrugged slightly. "The day after she brought you back and began caring for Pril. There was a discussion with olo'eyktan, and he agreed to perform the ceremony."
Ronal sat with the information, processing it.
You… you rejected your human form, the body you had your entire life, your true self… just so you could take care of Pril?
It didn't make sense to Ronal. Why? Why would you give up all you had for the sake of one life? One that was not yours to begin with?
Why? Why why why—
Her thoughts were cut short when, as if summoned from the ether by her confusion, you walked in.
You stopped in place, eyes wide, you and Ronal staring at each other. Sensing the tension, Ze'te rose and left, delivering a light pat to your flank that caused your tail to jolt.
"Oh—" you stammered. "Oh, I— I'm so sorry, I thought— I thought you'd be asleep. I just— I wanted to— I'll leave."
As you went to step out, Ronal said, "Come here, dreamwalker."
You wavered, unsure, before walking further in. You gulped audibly as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of her, visibly wrestling with yourself to not tremble in her presence. You held out Pril towards her, an open invitation for her to take her daughter.
Ronal did not. You slowly brought Pril back to your chest.
"How— um, how are you feeling?" You mumbled awkwardly.
Ronal narrowed her eyes at you and chose to skip over your question. "You have been taking care of my daughter."
A statement.
Your teeth clacked shut, and you nodded stiffly. "Y-Yeah."
"Why?"
One hell of a loaded question, one you didn't know how to reply to.
You could list a million and one reasons as to why you'd tasked yourself as Pril's primary guardian.
They sat on the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill like an overflowing waterfall. You could tell her that you wanted to, or that it just seemed right, or that you had nothing better to do. That you were lonely, had no way to go back to the RDA now, not that you wanted to in the slightest. You had nothing but your love for the ocean, and this baby that you valued more than anything ever to exist, more than your passion for the sea and its inhabitants, more than your life.
In the end, what came forth was the truth.
"I promised," you said, mellow. "I promised you I would protect her."
"Protection does not mean taking her to treat as your own."
You frowned, her words harsh, but no less true than your own.
"I know," you responded, "but this is protection to me. Never letting her out of my sight. I can only know she is safe if I can see for myself."
Tsahìk huffed, her tail waving in agitation. "You sacrificed your demon body."
You fidgeted in place. "Yes."
"For a child that is not yours."
"…Yes."
"You confuse me, dreamwalker," Ronal admitted. "Your kind is evil. A blight to Eywa'eveng. This war has proven so. Why are you different?"
For a while, you had no response. You chewed on the question, no words seeming right in your mind. It felt like anything you could give her would piss her off. You tried to think of justifications for yourself, reasons on how you were different, deserving, worthy.
You weren't. Not to yourself.
"I am no better," you muttered, staring over her shoulder. "I'm human. I'm just as bad as they are. I can say I would never hurt anything, that I'd fight for this world, but I'm not that strong. I've hurt in the past. I can try my best not to, but I'll probably hurt something again in the future."
Your gaze went down to Pril, and you slumped, brushing a thumb over her cheek.
"But never her. I'd never hurt her. I'd sooner cut off my own tail than do anything to harm Pril."
Ronal left you in rigid, unyielding quietude, letting you stew over it. She took you in, from head to toe, ear to tail, weighing your heart on a scale. Of all judgments you had to fear, hers scared you the most.
She had every right and power to rip Pril from your arms and exile you, or order your execution. Her word was above Tonowari's; if she decided something, it was to be done, clan leader or not. Whatever she commanded was law, and to defy her was to defy life, declare it pointless, to be ungrateful. Because if she believed that you did not value your life enough, she would take it to return the energy to the Great Mother, so it may be used on someone more deserving.
Just as you were prepared for her to deliver the decisive, fatal blow, she stunned you by questioning you on something you never considered.
"Have you made tsaheylu with her?"
You blinked. "Wh— no, no! I didn't I swear—"
"You should have," she scowled.
"…Huh?"
"Tsaheylu is vital to a baby's life," she growled at you. You shrank a bit under her withering glare. "It is the first bond. It must be made as soon as possible to make a strong connection. She needs it to become familiar with her mother."
Your jaw dropped slightly, and you floundered. "But— but I'm not her mom. You are, you should be the one to—"
"You have been more of a mother to her than I have. She had bonded with you, and will not recognize me. It will do her more harm for me to make tsaheylu with her."
You deflated, sinking into yourself. "But…"
She jerked her chin at Pril. "It must be done. Come closer."
Obeying, you scooted into Ronal's space. She moved your arms to hold Pril up, and found her short kuru, pinching it lightly between two fingers.
You swallowed thickly, then tilted your head to bring your tswin over your shoulder. Careful to not jostle Pril too much, you freed a hand and took the end of your kuru, lifting it. You trembled, but blessedly, Ronal said nothing of it.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, you brought your kuru up to Pril's, and watched as the pink tendrils wound around each other.
The moment the bond was sealed, everything stopped.
You stiffened, lips parted as emotions you'd experienced before, but that weren't your own, drenched you. Goosebumps rose along your skin, and a blistering heat formed in your chest, like you drank a steaming cup of your favorite tea.
Curiosity, excitement, wonder, love. They all encompassed your thoughts, pure and unfiltered and so, so powerful. Brief flickers of images flashed behind your eyes, blurry and from the perspective of something too small to understand what anything was.
Belatedly, you realized they were Pril's memories, the few she had. Fleeting and fragile. For her, they'd fade away, forgotten before they could stick. But for you?
You'd never forget. Never.
A giggle caused you to reanimate, tension evaporating. Pril looked up at you, a wide smile squishing her eyes into crescents. She giggled again, her hands holding onto her feet as she refused to look away from you.
The sound broke you.
Tears welled in your eyes, too quick for you to fight back. Despite them, you gave her a watery smile, your voice hardly a whisper as you spoke to her. "Hi, baby. Hi. I'm right here. Mama— mama's here."
Until now, Pril hadn't laughed once. Tickling her, playing games, telling her stories, nothing got her to do more than smile. Now, she laughed freely, sweet and unchained, knowing nothing but safety and love, the care you gave and had for her. It was you she saw, you she knew, you she loved. You felt it in your very spirit, the unrelenting and unapologetic attachment she had to you.
A featherlight touch to your cheek startled you slightly, reminding you that you weren't alone with Pril.
You looked up, and found Ronal gazing at you, her typically harsh glare mellowed into something unreadable to you.
"You are her mother," she murmured, a fact you could no longer deny.
You sniffled and beamed at her, leaning into her touch as she cupped her palm against your cheek. She let you, continuing to wipe away tears that never seemed to stop.
"I'll take good care of her, I promise," you vowed scratchily.
"I know," Ronal responded. "Has she had her first communion?"
You shook your head. "No. I asked Tonowari to postpone it. I wanted you to be there for it."
Ronal sighed, but the sound was lighthearted, long-suffering. "You humans know nothing."
Sniffing stuffily, you gave her a wobbly smile. "Will you teach me, then?"
Ronal considered your request. Sincere, heartfelt, hopeful.
"I will teach you," she agreed.
To Ronal's chagrin (and, honestly, anger), it took her a few more weeks to heal until Ze'te allowed her to go to the Spirit Tree to attend Pril's first communion with Eywa. She was strictly ordered to keep her arm in a sling, and rely on an ilu to get her to the tree. In fact, Ze'te took to tying the sling in extra tight knots at Ronal's neck and back, ensuring that the woman would not be able to remove it herself. Asking Tonowari to do it was pointless, too, as he knew better than to indulge her requests if they went against a healer's orders.
Frankly, he was a bit scared of Ze'te himself. Ronal supposed she had nobody to blame but herself, seeing as she was the girl's mentor.
But, as tsahìk, it was Ronal's right and honor to be the one to connect a child's kuru to the Spirit Tree.
You floated as she came to you, smiling at Pril, who you had propped up by her armpits.
In respect, you bowed your head at Ronal, who returned the gesture.
She motioned you forward, closer to the Tree. Ronal brought a frond closer, too, and when she was ready, she connected Pril's kuru to it.
Pril's pupils expanded, and her lips spread into a gummy smile, squirming and kicking her legs. The Tree's light pulsed as the People celebrated, cheers muffled underwater, their joy for the baby and you evident.
Tonight, there'd be a feast, exorbitant and wild. The People will celebrate the victory of their war against the sky people, how the tulkun were not only saved, but convinced to change their ways, and the People will celebrate Pril's entrance into this world, recognizing her as the newest and youngest member of the clan.
But for now, it was just you, Pril, Ronal, and the Great Mother watching over you, welcoming you both into her embrace.
It was Ronal that insisted (ordered) you move into her and Tonowari's family marui.
She situated you in their room, rather than having you sleep in the main room, or in either Tsireya's or Ao'nung's rooms. She was going to set up a hammock for you, too, but you had timidly requested a mat instead, claiming you had gotten used to it. Preferred it.
"The swaying makes me a little sick, too," you admitted in a whisper, embarrassed.
So, she gave you a mat. And layered it in several furs. And blankets. And a couple more furs.
For Pril, of course. Nights on Awa'atlu got very cold, it wouldn't do for the baby to get sick because she wasn't warm enough.
Tonowari knew better. Knew before either you or Ronal that you would be their mate, in time.
His and Ronal's, the mother of their child, your child, in the ways that mattered most.
He saw how Ronal softened to you over time, how her gaze grew fond, how she kept a close eye on you — not out of mistrust, but because she wanted to be sure you were alright. She heckled you about eating, and lightly smacked the back of your head when you complained that your breasts had become sore after the method you used to feed Pril had induced lactation.
"It is a gift," she hissed at you.
"It hurts," you whined.
"Sustaining life is no easy task. But the reward for doing so is profound."
"How did you deal with it?"
"Prayed to Eywa that my nipples would not crack and bleed."
"They can do that!?" You squealed.
Ronal rolled her eyes. "Yes. But I will provide healing paste. Now go feed her before she decides you were too slow today and bites you."
Tonowari knew when her sharpness turned into playful bickering. When she gave you nutritious food and soothing gels unprompted, and when she woke first to comfort you if you suffered a nightmare, humming calming songs and rubbing your back.
He knew when he found her sleeping by you as you slept one evening, tuckered out after Pril had chosen to be a menace all day. Pril was laid beside you, having finally worn herself out on all that crying, snoozing like she hadn't caused her mother hell. Ronal's hand was on your head, absentmindedly stroking your hair, your forehead, your cheek.
Tonowari knelt to her right, touching your knee. You didn't stir, too deep in sleep to be woken so easily.
"You wish to mate with her," he said. A statement, not a question.
Ronal didn't say anything for a few seconds. She didn't react, didn't recoil at the thought of mating with a sky person. She merely kept watching over you and Pril, petting your head.
Eventually, she gave him the smallest of nods. Barely a murmur, she confirmed simply, "Yes."
He hummed.
She peeked at him. "And you?"
"Yes," he agreed. "She has proven herself to me. I can feel Eywa guiding us toward her."
Ronal breathed out softly, her shoulders sinking, relaxing. "We must ask her."
He kissed her temple. "In the morning. Let her rest."
"Of course."
He leaned over your sleeping body, and pressed his lips to your forehead.
"Sleep well, dreamwalker. We pray you will say yes, come the new dawn."
heavily inspired by @rawme-price and his orca!simon/orca!141 series (here!)
This is it, you thought, as you stared certain death in the face.
You’d been raised to be more careful, of course. You knew better. You knew better. But, curiosity got the better of you, and now–
Well, now, you were fishfood.
The orca mer glared down at you, pitch-black eyes boring into your very soul. It had backed you up into a corner after chasing you down, a silent hunter, stalking you through the waters that you strayed too far into.
You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Drawn to the weird thing that swam on the surface of the sea, only its belly visible, the water turned to bubbles behind it before returning to normal. You’d never seen anything like it, absolutely fascinated.
And that fascination was going to be your utter downfall. By the time you realized where you were, it was too late for you. It didn’t stop you from trying to escape, you swam with all your might, but you knew, deep down, that it was pointless. Orcas were the prime predators of the sea, massive and dominating with an even bigger appetite, known for toying with their food.
Fuck, you could only hope the mer would just make it quick, not play with you.
It – he – leaned closer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing into the rocky outcropping at your back as you braced for pain–
“Where’s your mother, pup?”
…What.
You cracked an eye open, peeking at him. Where you expected sharp teeth ready to shred you to bits, you found nothing more than a displeased frown, a pinch in the mer’s brows. Confused, you let out a small, down-swooping chirp.
“Your pod?” He pressed.
Pod? Ribbon seals didn’t have pods, they were solitary creatures, including you. Last time you saw any substantial amount of your kind around one another was during the last breeding season, which you decided to skip. In real time, you witnessed his brows twitch, saw something come over his eyes.
Then, he was hooking his arms around your midsection, tucking you under his belly as he kicked his tail to swim out of the tight space you’d wriggled into. You squealed, struggling in his grip, but froze when he let out an irritated grumble.
“Hush, pup. Not gonna eat ya.”
Incredibly cautious, you tilted your head back to look up at him (as best as you could), mainly seeing his strong, scarred jawline and the protrusion of his Adam’s apple. “...You’re not?”
The mer scoffed, as if offended you thought he would. “‘Course not. ‘M not gonna eat my own kind, ‘specially not a pup.”
You opened your mouth to inform him that you weren’t an orca mer, actually, but snapped your mouth shut. If he didn’t know you were a ribbon seal mer, maybe you could sneak away safely later and not get turned into a midday snack?
Swallowing, you cautioned to ask, “Where are we going?”
“Back to my pod,” he answered. “Can’t just ignore an abandoned whelp.”
“I’m not abandoned–”
His head snapped down to glare at you, and you promptly shut up.
The longer he swam, dragging you along underneath him, the less you trembled. Maybe he really wasn’t going to eat you – or, maybe, he was planning to share with his pod.
Fuuuck. An entire pod of orcas, your natural predators? There was no way you were getting out of this alive.
That truth seemed to solidify further as he dove deeper into the waters, the surrounding temperature dropping by the second. The pressure increased, pressing on your ears, until he directed you both into the yawning mouth of an underwater cavern. The entrance to a cove, his home.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck–
“Simon,” another voice greeted your… captor? Savior? Whatever the hell he was. Simon drew you upwards with him, where you both surfaced into a dome-like area. The walls were coated in bioluminescent algae, keeping the space cozily lit a cool blue. It was huge, bigger than any other cove you’d ever seen. You supposed it made sense, given it was meant to house several mers that were at least five times larger than you. “Whatcha got there, son?”
“Lost pup,” Simon answered, thrusting you forward with a grunt. “No mother or pod. Think it strayed too far from home.”
The other mer – another orca, of course, because what else? – glanced between you and the man who brought you here, evidently processing the announcement, before he crooked a finger at you. “C’mere, kid.”
When you hesitated, Simon pinched your backside, causing you to yelp and zoom forward on instinct. The second orca mer caught you by your arms, forcing you still as he examined you from head to tail. He turned you around, lifted you up with haunting ease, and paused.
“Fuck happened to yer fin, kid?” He asked suddenly.
What fin? The only “fins” you had were at the end of your tail, what did he…
Oh. Oh. Orcas had dorsal fins, a feature that you distinctly lacked.
“Um…”
He interrupted you fumbling. “Did… did you get abandoned after being injured?”
“...Yes?”
The man inhaled sharply, then spun you back to face him again. “Poor thing,” he cooed, his rough voice now saccharine and sweet. Coddling. “Bit underfed, too, ain’t ya?”
You looked down at yourself, perplexed. You ate well, each day full of successful hunts. You didn’t think you were underfed, but clearly, the orca mers disagreed.
“Don’t worry,” he said as you heard soft splashing behind you. “We’ll take care o’ ya. All o’ us.”
All of them?
Slowly, you looked over your shoulder, where you saw two more pairs of eyes besides Simon’s curiously locked onto you.
Ohhh, you were so screwed.
(pics of ribbon seals under the cut!! ♥)
they don't look as much like orca's as a heaviside's dolphin does, but they're in the "close enough" range for me to not care. Look at em. They're just lil' dudes. I could totally see the 141 gang mistaking a ribbon seal mer for a baby orca mer (we're just going to ignore the fact that they're all extremely smart men, I prefer them on the himbo end of the scale tyvm)
