Guidance {Open}

[Jen]

There were many times Tsawke felt as if his void, but vivid life was stuck on repeat. Like a circle, weaving over and over around a main access point; like silken thread being wove on a spindle. Wrapped around the sturdy, stripped bark of his hollowed out arrows; observing with careful golden irises as it encircled the sharpened spearhead of bone. Then, upon bringing it to his slim lips; the Na’vi opened his mouth and sliced the fine self-made thread with the sharp incisors. With one simple snip of his svelte jaws, the action was done. Yet again, and again; Tsawke felt the agony and confusion of déjà vu. He sat upon the same rock, within the same scenery, creating the same weapons; day after day as he was given the grace to be by himself when the bustle of the village became too much. The male Na’vi had his own perch, surrounded plentifully by the bioluminescence of the night. He listened with his delicately curved ears; hands rubbed raw from the recurring task of creating his slither of arrows that always rested normally upon his back. The voices of Eywa’s children were melding themselves into a chorus around him, as if to lull his anxious conscious into a state of tranquil sleep; if only to stop his mourning for but a few hours.

His actions these past few months had sent the normally benevolent matured male into a state of repetitive questioning. The grave of his elder sibling, and the last of his own actual blood had gone missing; presumed dead when his Ikran had been found, passed on and body askew; next to his identified shreds of clothing. Only a few locks of the Queue had been left in his place. The beads that once adorned his sibling’s hair, scattered upon the blood stained ground like the stars that painted themselves upon their beautiful sky. An ache aroused within him, one that his tribe had begun to take notice of; not one Tsawke was ready to admit. On and on, he would rest upon his perk, looking down only at the endless sky and the ever-permanent imprint Eywa had upon Pandora. Allowing some strength into his lithe, small frame to do what he knew was right. He picked up his bow in the honor of his now deceased, wearing the vizier of the mother he had lost during the aftershocks Pandora had suffered after the first wave of humans had left.

It had been the same repeating argument that too, had driven a wedge between him and the older Na’vi he had adorned so much. The return of Eywa’s will, the exile of the Human race. The pain of his ancestors; do not forget the blood spilled in the name of our home. Tswake recalled the words clearly, knowing almost exactly what he had felt the second those words had left tribal lips in the tongue of those same ancestors they loved and respected. Those that deserved to grasp revenge with their hands were dead, the Na’vi that deserved to watch the humans return to their crippling planet were gone. Their children and their children’s children had no right to take the blood of those that had naught to be judged by what others of their kind had done. Scrunching his nose in thought, the male Na’vi blocked out his argument on the matter. Those same words of passiveness had sparked a flame of rage within some of his people. The one’s still sore from the battle wounds left from millions of deaths, and the miracle blessing of Eywa. Granted by the human’s own wish, who supposedly now—was silent. But why, why be silent as unrest slowly begins to unfold around our planet? Families are torn, tribes are tense; waiting for the words promised to them. A pained sigh escaped his svelte lips. Golden irises closed as his hands repeated the interweaving pattern around his poised hand; only pausing when a loud rush of humid air jutted down his spine. Caught off guard, the male Na’vi jolted with a sudden start; whipping the point of the arrow to the neck of his Ikran.

Sergei gave another snort, rather unamused by his bonded’s ability to get rustled when interrupted from his internal thought. Shifting his large jaw, another guttural sound erupted from it’s lower neck; demanding the full attention of his bonded for the moment. “Sergei, please forgive me. I am—a little distracted.” The male Na’vi had no sooner dropped his arrow, and graced the long muzzle of his Ikran. Sergei, now slightly more infatuated with the (now rare) attention being given to him; paused to shift the perspective of his bonded towards the setting horizon. Turning, Tsawke lifted his nimble fingers up to brush some of the loose strands of ‘hair’ from his eyes. The dots of bioluminescent cells dusting his slim form as the night cloaked all it’s children into slumber. Far off in the normally void part of the ‘dangerous’ canyon near his vantage point, though, came a small white light. Raising his eyebrows, the Na’vi seemed far too shocked to even utter one word of praise to his nurturing mother; the one that came before the womb. So far in the mountains? I—it is so rare. Carefully, the young male shifted his way to the ledge of the chasm. His hands lightly cupped one another, the right lacing with the left as his four fingers ensnared together to create a cushion for the single, rare seed of Eywa.

In truth, Tsawke did not know if the seeds were rare or not within his tribe or lands. It had just been he had not seen one so close since he had been but a child. As the feather-light bundle of white luminescence landed upon his joined palms; he brought it cautiously towards his face, the stoic in his features melted into one of serenity. The magic such small trifles could overwhelm him into a state of soothed conscious. His mourning forgotten, his thoughts and ideals gone—Tsawke cradled the small bundle of light tenderly. His young face being illuminated by the rays the small seed gave off. Lifting his hands, the rare sight left him; probably into the hands of another. Is it a sign for me that it is time to leave Rokure? There had been so many who had aided in rearing him and his brother when his parents had passed. Many children, now grown men and women that he considered to be his close allies and friends; alas his grief had torn them apart. No matter the actions taken to quell it, he had not changed in these last few months. “Sergei,” he called with an oddly calm voice. “I believe I have to go to The Tree of Souls.” His Ikran, silent through the entire ordeal said nothing. “But,” Tsawke added; causing his Ikran’s head to perk. “I believe I will be walking.” A cry for his Ikran could only signify its displeasure of not being taken as well.

“Please, I will be fine. I am not a child, Sergei. Calm, Sergei. Calm.” He cooed to his distressed Ikran; stroking the muzzle one last time as he moved to grasp his carving knife, threads, and newly made arrows. “Return to the tribe, I will come back soon.” Whether he would or not, was completely up to fate. Taking the steps south of his mountainous home; the smaller Na’vi stalked through the brush that would eventually lead him to the sacred grounds of the Tree of Souls. His ridge had luckily been on the border of the boundary between the two borders.

It had taken more then a few hours, but Tsawke had managed to step upon the sacred soil of Eywa’s domain as the sun had just begun to peak the skies of Pandora’s night sky. Still in slumber, though, the tree gave the same pure glow as its seed had done not too long ago. Bare feet stepped gracefully upon the soil, approaching the large tree as many Na’vi had done before him. Seeking advice, seeking solstice. It was no secret that Eywa could not grant their prayers wings, no matter how hard they tried. It is life, and how we live it that we may shape our dreams and prayers into action. Yet she did bring (at least him) ease and strength to live on through the guilt. So far, he had not felt nor heard any other presence in the shared, sacred lands. Pausing halfway to the alight tree; he closed his eyes and let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. Finally making his way towards the silent being, he slid onto his knees. Leather-like guards creaking slightly as the bounds that kept them tied to his legs bent to place him within the kneeling position. A long, elegant cloth that wrapped around his waist curled around him; all the garb of a proper Rokure rider.

“Please hear me now,” Tsawke whispered, taking the long braid of his Queue and allowing it to wrap around the long tresses of the Tree of Souls. Silence came over him, eyes closed in an almost trance-like rest; simply listening to the sounds and feelings rushing over him. One in particular, he sought—but had not found yet. His eyes slid open, conscious that he should—probably keep somewhat surveillance around himself, despite this being holy land.

[/blockquote]

[Volcon]

Every second was like an hour passing by in a never ending cascade of the world’s strife, descending on him in waves. Under him was the soft brush of his Ikran, a feel of his skin that was lightly electric, bringing him closer to his companions large body. The swirls of air which escaped from his mouth at this high altitude slithered around the yellow of Ki’tim’s hide as it rippled through the blue, and disappeared. Long lithe fingers wrapped around the long structures which flow from the loving Ikran’s head to make perfect grips for two mighty hands to hold onto this creature with. Through the queue did he make the connection that was really profound, though, it was a bond so complete no other rider would ever experience the same thrill which enthralled Nari right now. With the lightest mental note he could go hurling towards the rocky crags below with a beauty which few took the pleasure to experience. Then, in a slightly backwards movement he could be once again just as high, if not farther into the atmosphere above the pair. For they were that, a perfect pair in every sense of the word, destined to fly forever on the gusts of air which pushed them along. Ready for the perfect moment to adjust to the air current, and the times when they would have stop just long enough to get something to eat. Life was good like this, but all too short it would be cut off.

With a carefree tug on his grips, and a slight mental push they spiralled through the air as they got closer to the ground. Too much of the higher air would cause even the strongest of men to become sick, and while Nari knew he could last it for much longer, he was ready to bring it down a little. Now his eyes darted to the life below, scant as it was each creature which crawled on the floor could be easily seen with the yellows of his sombre eyes. Off to a world unseen a small rodent dashed into the underside of a rock, hidden amongst the tunnels it had no doubt dug, now free from those things which would wish it harm. For some reason the Na’vi had a similar aspiration in mind as he continued his flight, for this was the only place he could treat as his home. Perhaps he could go back to the Rokure, to those which would treat him as the brother he truly was to them, but it was not the same as right now. Even at this moment, as he stretched up to his full height on the back of Ki’tim he could feel the air rushing through his hair, and know this was where he belonged. Not to cower about on the ground hoping vainly he might be some glory to his tribe, no he would sell his life away to be able to do this forever. Yet life beckons, and there is no doubt the rider will return to his people, for they are all he has, and he could not abandon them.

Part of him didn’t know where he was going, and then part of him didn’t want to know, for there was a piece of him which really had no cares to the future. All he could care about was the feel of the wood beneath his feet as he stood up on the back of his Ikran, the taste of the mountain air in his mouth, and the love of the world to feed him. There upon the wings of his steed the lowly Na’vi thought about the world, about those among his tribes, those outside it, and even those which came from an entirely different planet. How similar they were, yet how so much different they could be at times, and the very life which they live brought out in their thoughts as well as actions. Upon the night sky he could think of anything, fuelled by the bioluminescence which brightened his view, and the massive figure of what the humans dubbed ‘Polyphemus’, what it might be called by our ancestor he could not recall at the moment. Still, it light up the night, bringing light to all those in need, a bright star which glowed greater than all the others which shed their beauty down upon him.

When the Na’vi began to push his charge faster, the most unlikely of things occurred to the point wherein he hardly believed his eyes. Faintly in the distance he could see something which bobbed through the night, going in a steady line towards him, but he moved much faster than it. Quickly from his own thought Ki’tim slowed from her pace to a much slower one, barely crawling through the air as they approached the beacon in the night. Firm calves steadied him to the Ikran as blue hands dashed through the dark to pick out the light which was going to get away if something hadn’t have happened so fast. Still keeping up a barrier around the object inside dark yellow eyes peered in to see what it was which had caused him so great inquiry. Amazement filled the corners of long navy lips as into the long wisps of glowing tendrils greeted the curious traveller. How a seed of Eywa got out of here was a mysterious to Nari as anything, but its presence here called to ask a question. Would the creator of all of this bring to him this without a purpose? It was a curious dilemma, for the tree of souls was off in the distance, and the Na’vi was not sure what those of his village would say if he disappeared.

Either way this creature would not remain trapped her in the coves of the bearers hands much longer, as hands released the object to let it no longer be guided, but be free as it should be. It didn’t take long for Nari to make up his mind, as slowly the man began to figure out exactly where this journey had landed the pair, and where it was they needed to go. Eywa spoke softly to the soul of this young rider as he pushed Ki’Tim fast through the air, an icy tint to the night air padded across the nerves on his face. Like an arrow travelling at increasing speeds they hurtled themselves through the air, destined for a place both had been only once before. The Tree of Souls it was called by generations upon generations of his kind, each one had gone on to live among the countless others which inhabit its being. Eywa was said to guard over them, to keep them safe from harm, and many years ago she had proved herself up to the task. When those machines of war the Human’s keep for themselves threatened all, and proposed to tear down her homestead they brought down their ranks. Nari had been so young at the time all the feeble mind could remember was frustration in not being able to fight, but now it was certain there should have never been a battle in the first place.

”Come on buddy, we’re going to get there,” Whispered Nari’s calm voice to the Ikran as one light hand patted the side of her neck for a second. Strong muscles didn’t seem to feel even the slightest restraint from the hit of those hits, and still there was an amount of awe at the sheer power which this creature was able to muster. With that he brought himself closer to the creature once more, feeling a light electricity once more pass through him.

For a long time the pair travelled over the crags, which slowly gave away to moss, and then the arches of stone which cover the tree of stone. In the air there was a different tone, like that of magnificence as the pair tilted severely downward towards the glowing apparatus, its beauty boundless. There was a light purple tone which came off it in a warm light, almost in some ways soft to the touch, yet there was an amount of strength which it held. Lightly Ki’Tim came closer towards the ground, as its feet solemnly hit the ground as if you could feel the sorrow of ending a flight in the way it touched the flora underneath. One last graceful motion was saved for the moment in which he moved down from the back of the creature, cold fingers broke the bond between them, and he could anticipate the awkward look of his feet hitting the ground, as vainly his body tried to compensate for not being in the air. With the lightest of sighs he moved away from Ki, his hand brushing her as he signalled for her to stay, behind.

No part of him lied as to thinking it knew why they had come here, and hell if he knew whether he had interpreted the seed right. There was always a slim chance of failure when working with the divine, but it was the act of faith which made it all possible, and it was that primal instinct which the Na’vi followed on. One step at a time there was a lonely path etched into the roots of this tree, as the lonely traveller made his way under its loving embrace. While the back of Nari’s hand brushed the branches of this tree there was part which no longer felt lonely inside of him. All of this felt right, he was among a thousand people right now, and all of them beckoned him to come further into the soft light. One soft hand brought his queue around to touch the end of one of these branches, and instantly a thousand voices consoled him. Light filled every crevice of the world around him for a brief second, but among all this there was something else more tangible there. A voice which called out among all the rest, it was almost as if he could actually hear it.

Quickly eyes he didn’t realise were closed opened as the amber eyes searched for a particular query. Inside these walls of Eywa he found a figure standing in a similar way to the one which had just brought this traveller to this creature’s presence. No longer alone a voice echoed through the night air as Nari uttered, “I see you, brother.”

[Jen]

Golden irises shot open quickly as Tsawke became more aware of his surroundings. Ears tilting back slightly, they perked once more before falling in an eased motion. Closing his eyes, he reached his hand up and coaxed his queue to disconnect with the Tree of Souls. His head pivoted, holding and almost inquisitive stance; as well as offering a peaceful moment of silence between the two male Na’vi. The rider rose to his full height, slightly shorter then most his age, yet still as strong and firm as any warrior. His eyes, however, sought something in the other Na’vi that did not need words. Orbs shifted, his head turned, and Tsawke took a quick glance over, assuming that the other was also from his clan at Rokure. It didn’t put him at ease, considering he now questioned his very presence of his own tribe. What he did see, though, was a completely calm and trustworthy individual; someone in whom he did not have to put up fronts or attempt to explain that he was alright. This Na’vi felt like someone he had never met before, and as such; he did not have to come off as the warrior he trained himself to be. “I see you, brother.” He returned after one moment’s hesitation; motioning politely with his hands and closing his eyes in courteously. “Please forgive me for delaying you. I am finished.”

Tsawke understood completely that some wished to ‘listen’ to Eywa alone. He, in fact, was one of them. Silence stilled for a few moments, his eyes leaving the other male timidly, as if he was but a child—caught in a very sensitive situation. Taking a few steps towards the distanced Na’vi, curiosity got the best of his tongue. “It is but still night; dawn approaches, but she is far off on the horizon. Is there a reason you have come so early?” He could spy the Ikran, only solidifying his belief that the Na’vi before him had to indeed be of Rokure origin. A flicker of doubt plagued the young one’s mind as he sought to make sense of the scene before him. Does he know me? All he has done is gaze upon me. I do not understand. Parting his lips, the male closed them again and recoiled slightly. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps Nari was not of the Rokure clan, or maybe he was and had seen the same sign he did. How many more would come then? I will not do well in a crowd.

“You are—“ Tsawke began again, cautiously. “Of the Rokure, are you not?” If the other Na’vi was a warrior, why had he not seen him on patrol or anywhere else? Have I honestly been so isolated that I have forgotten my own tribe. The thought made him frown, his perked ears pivoting into a more submissive and sullen position. His eyelids narrowed, trying to observe the other’s body even more. Wondering if there had been something he missed. His judgment had not been wrong before; Tsawke was wise in the art of knowing when and when not to speak. To hold his tongue, he had learned it the hard way—but learnt it all the same. “Forgiveness for prying, but you do not seem familiar to me.” His lips sealed shut as his feet brought him to a screeching halt at least ten feet away. Tsawke ironically kept his distance, an almost unheard of characteristic for the Na’vi when consulting their own race. Within his own conscious, though, it was safe to be separated from those who could easily pry. His self-forgiveness was something that he had to seek within himself; hopefully with the aid of Eywa. So far, though, he had not approached any of his kind intimately in many months.


He stood as if indecisive as to what to do next. The thought of fleeing back, grabbing Sergei, and leaving the Rokure clan zipped through his mind only twice. Tsawke again diverted his attention. “I believe I will be leaving now, I seem to be tired. Speaking nonsense. I ask for your humblest apologies.” Bowing his head in a motion of careful, polite dismissal; he began to walk past the other Na’vi without even asking his name. Making it clear he was not afraid, Tsawke met him with quick eye contact before he passed him. The Na’vi did not run, nor did he wait for the other being to attempt to follow him or ask him the exact same questions. Rude, maybe, but he had done his fair share of talking. In all honesty, it probably was the most he had spoken to a person since his blood brother had passed months ago.

Small, stealthy steps led him away from the other, and never had he felt more sure that he should have brought Sergei. Flying would have been far better to leave the scene then walking all the way back to where his Ikran perched in waiting. His long tail swayed behind him, flinching only slightly as the wind’s picked up. Causing Tswake to catch the scent of a new dawning day. The aroma of the Tree of Souls strong against his nose, the seeds plentiful here as they shifted all around Pandora; gracing the land with their presence. Something within, though, told him to wait. Thus, he paused in his motion of abandoning the other with the Tree of Souls. Glancing back, the male simply seemed to await what he would observe in this awkward situation. Wait, for him? Why should I? Scoffing internally at such a thought, his golden irises glanced over the other visitor’s body; attempting to make one last observation before dropping the entire attempt to speak with him.

[Volcon]

Occasionally there were those feelings Nari got which subtly influenced what might be the next road down his life. Then there were moments like this whenever a feeling was so strong there could be no denying the direction they painted, it was like a stream which there was no fighting, and all anyone could do was move with it. There seemed to be some steady hand which carefully followed him, as it pushed the traveller towards the other Na’vi, whoever he might be. Underfoot there was the soft feeling of moss, which carefully cushioned his toes, and made them feel as if it was not solid ground there at all. Even though morning was nigh, and darkness still enveloped the land light streamed all around the pair, filling in the dark gaps as it twisted around every object there to create shadows which danced across the ground. What a great puppeteer it was, to make the world move with its beckoning, yet never do a single thing to help them move. Sometimes it felt as if strings were attached to the Na’vi’s body, making him every bit of a toy which puts on a show for the world, but of course this time if felt like something else. Perhaps it wasn’t so much a puppeteer which led him this time as a mother carefully pulling her son along.

“I see you, brother.” Started the other male, his eyes closed for a second as he seemed to think, or well, Nari wasn’t quite sue what he was doing, “Please forgive me for delaying you. I am finished.”

For a second he stood there, trying to think of what to do next, the Na’vi had never been good at interactions with other people, even ones of his own race. Slightly the frame of his head tilted to one side as slowly he began to observe this person, whom was different for some reason. Perhaps it was the same force which brought him here whom was also causing him such confusion, and made it so hard to cut himself from the matters at hand. Wouldn’t it just be simpler to walk away than to begin talking to this person, but before the traveller could make up his mind, there was once again words which filled the space between the two. Squinting his eyes slightly he took one cautious step closer to the other male, but neither seemed to be too excited about getting closer, so he stopped himself there.

“…of the Rokure, are you not?” Finally Nari’s mind latched onto that, and it was something by which he could relate to. It was odd, but there was so much of this man which also pointed out he might be from his clan, but it didn’t seem as if he’d ever seen him before.

“Uh..” Started the aviator, but had to stop for a second to swallow, his throat still a little dry from the trip over here, “Yes, yes I am.” Their language was so fluid, and sometimes he wondered why he was so quiet, when words were just around the bend, waiting to be used.

“Forgiveness for prying, but you do not seem familiar to me,” Told the man, whom seemed significantly smaller than Nari, but that didn’t mean much, for he had always been slightly on the tall side.

Many of his people, if not all would not have worked up such caution, they would not have cared for pleasantries beyond the basic customs which must be withheld. While this might be considered a kind gesture, the lonely traveller was not sure whether he should take compliment or offence to the words of this man. Most would simply speak their mind, and not care one way or another what they thought without regret or pause to give a care about what the other said. Their’s was a proud race, so it almost seemed as if he might be on the verge of prudent to be acting in this manner, but there was still that odd feeling. One which could not be ignored, or disregarded, and for one simple reason Nari might feel as if this is just simply the man’s way of living. Not some façade, or persona he put on, but a legitimate feeling of true empathy he felt for the man, and what his views are. Such an odd thing to think about.

“I do not think I’ve seen you before, either…” Nari told the other as his feet carried him just one step closer to see what it was this man was, “I get the feeling you are of the Rokure too. Small world, huh?”

“I believe I will be leaving now, I seem to be tired. Speaking nonsense. I ask for your humblest apologies.” Responded the other person, whom didn’t seem to be very self confident at all.

For some reason there was the strongest urge to get him to stop his movement away from the Tree of Souls, and continue their conversation. “Wait, you’re here for a reason, correct?” Started the Na’vi, not sure if this was being too intrusive or not, but now he was curious. There had to be something bringing them here, and if he had any clue, it wasn’t just by chance which had lead the pair to here. It had to be more than just fate which brought them to this little spot, a divine being had seemed to push the traveller here, and he wanted to know if it was the same for the other, “I…I’m curious to know why you came?” For a second he thought about what he had just uttered, and added, “If that is too intrusive, I beg your pardon, I did not mean for it to sound as such.”

Something was wrong about what he has just said, but the man didn’t care, it seemed right for the moment, and that’s all which mattered. Even though the man had begun to walk away, it did not mean he wouldn’t look back, which was all the other needed to catch the person back up, to see how true his feelings were. To see just how far these feelings went.

[Jen]

Tsawke seemed to have noticed halfway through the one-way conversation that he had spoken far too much. What was unexpected was that he felt so oddly at ease with the other, despite recoiling at the last moment. His conscious at times tended to falter, and while a Na’vi in mourning was a rare site to see—he doubted that he could be the only one. The way the other male was staring at him and attempting to keep him from leaving enlightened him enough to believe Nari had struck the truth. ’I see you,’ after all meant so much more then physical beings. Could it honestly be that the man’s insight had spotted the very same signal that the younger Na’vi already proclaimed himself fluent in? Tsawke wasn’t certain if it should make him feel offended or nervous; instead he was caught in an onslaught of both raging emotions. Half of the Na’vi wanted to flee, whilst the other part wanted nothing more to do then stay and converse. At least listen. He is so odd, is he not, Eywa? Is this why you sent me here—to burn someone so close to Txon’s physical form into my mind? It wounded Tsawke, more then words or actions could ever imprint upon his soul. A gaze of sullenness came over his figure, perked and agile ears rotating backwards before falling. Turning his body back towards Nari, he showed no intimidation by his size or his advanced age; instead he seemed introverted simply out of his own impeding nature.

“No,” he spoke gently. “You would not know me.” Yes, he was Rokure, but his plea to be left isolated from the tribe made him an almost outcast. His fellow Na’vi adored him, it was not as if he was a burden—an artist; one enchanted by the once human culture present on Pandora. The closer Nari got, the more he would be met with the scene of self-engraved and dyed cloths. He was a Na’vi of grace and trade; making some of the most beautiful riding gear for both himself and his fellow riders until his fingers and hands bled red. His head tilted to the side as his lips parted and his eyelids narrowed, attempting to get a better look at the other Na’vi in turn. He seemed—older, his elder by at least a few years, most likely a professional rider by the thin but durable clothing he wore for the rough flight that Ikran warriors must endure. “I am of Rokure blood.” He doubted the male needed to know, but at least his suspicions would be put to rest. It seemed like the other was trying his best to elope him with conversation; which more or less failed at first. Perking at the tenderness in Nari’s voice, slight guilt washed over him; he had been too cold with the other. Just relax, you are far too tense. How ironic of him to think such things in the presence of someone that was his elder, a bow of his head and a deep breath got him back on track.

“No, brother, it’s not intrusive.” Their language floated off of his tongue in a very poised, moderately refined way. It wasn’t too deep, nor was it intimidating. The voice was strong, if not withdrawn; pondering and filtering what he would say before it left his tinted lips. “Please do not think such a thing, forgive my rudeness; I do not mean to burden my elders.” Closing his eyelids, the Na’vi stayed silent for two seconds before gazing directly into Nari’s eyes; knowing that he would feel secure in conveying what he witnessed. “A seed of Eywa presented itself to me when I was on the outskirts of our land with my Ikran. I thought of it a sign to come here—and listen to the Tree of Souls.” He left out the portion as of why, Nari did not need to override himself with empathy or pity for the smaller Na’vi.

Turning back to the scene behind the both of them, he took his time as to weigh the possibilities. Had others seen the seed? It is such a rare sight in the lands of the Rokure, why would it only show itself to two. More must be on their way as we speak. I was incorrect. Eywa was not going to give me Txon’s forgiveness. Glancing back at Nari, his bioluminescence had shifted to show a more predominant sorrow that poisoned his veins. The more he glanced upon the other, the more he was reminded of the past he wanted to void himself of. It was bittersweet, seeing the good throughout the bad; finding Nari pleasant to speak and listen to. Na’vi never felt the human emotion of ‘stranger’ despite never gazing upon one another before. Tsawke was no exception, even though he did not normally converse with those of even his own blood. It was either Eywa or Nari himself that gave Tsawke the comfort to speak; laying out the incidents that had lead him to the Tree of Souls in the very dead of night. He was distressed by what he saw within this place, but also put at ease. An odd mixture, for sure—but it festered within, nonetheless.

“My name,” he uttered cautiously; noticing that the really had not said anything minus responding to Nari’s questions. “Is Tsawke.” He had abandoned his entire name months ago; knowing that adding in tanhì would almost immediately link him to his deceased. It was a characteristic that most males of his own flesh and blood had inherited from the father; the first two born would be named as opposites, but carry the same surname.

It was normally rude to ask one of older origin for their own name, but considered polite to give your name first. Tsawke stuck to courtesy; trying to not show much emotion as mild curiosity leaked out of him. He wanted to know more, why he had seen the Seed of Eywa, if he indeed had. Why would such a thing happen? Why did he feel that the male was tugging him back for conversation? Perhaps, he too knew of such complex ideals; if so, Tsawke felt comfortable in saying that they might actually get along. He had not really shown much interest in giving ear to other Na’vi these last few months. Today, however, was obscenely different. He waited for Nari to speak, confirm his own suspicions on the matter. His tail flicked slightly, curling behind him in an obviously restraining motion. His muscles tensed, and he willed them to relax as his ears swiveled upwards in an attempt to become attentive.

He could hear every shift of wind, the branches of the Tree of Souls whispering as they delicately brushed against one another. The howling the rocks seemed to make as the debris sifted through crevices; willing his conscious and body to meld into a state of serenity again without the use of his queue. Flickering golden irises met the others before him as he willed himself to not walk around the other male and attempt to come to a more feverent understanding. He was a patient Na’vi after all, and even if the two were not passionate speakers; he didn’t doubt this choice would come to aid him in some way. Eywa, be the spirit playing tricks or not; would forever have Tsawke’s trust. Be it her will that they speak, he would gladly attempt to do so.

With his mind now made up, the Na’vi stood firm and simply gazed at the other. Tail now curling and shifting lazily behind his back, posture straight; almost painfully so. Head cocking to the left in question, Tsawke simply waited for the other to respond when he was comfortable in doing so. Be it may that Nari would probably have to lead the conversation in order to get details out of the silent, small Na’vi.

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