Chapter Text
They finally had a break.
Well… sort of.
It was something like a break, even though life never stopped moving, things never stopped changing, and there was always more to do.
The world had slowed, for now. They crippled the RDA in their region, their clan was stronger than ever, and they decided they wanted to take the time to just breathe in the fresh air.
There were celebrations, of course. The Zeswa always made time for zangke and dance-fighting, the Aranahe were still reeling but grateful for each life they avoided losing, and the resistance was holding steady. The news that such huge strides were taken against the RDA in the Western Frontier was spreading across the resistance at large– word of their victories traveling to clans even further away.
The Mangkwan were unexpected.
Tamtey was… tired. It had been several weeks now since So’lek had pulled them out of the fire and rubble of Hometree, and they were struggling with this new sense of normal. Even just socializing was something they still hesitated to do.
They had survived. Not only these battles, but they had been a survivor since that day at the Sarentu moot, since the day Aha’ri died, since So’lek guided them out of the crumbling TAP facility, since, since, since. Each day was survival.
How do they figure out what it is to simply live? To be? How would they allow themself to do it?
The clans (and the resistance) held their breath, at first. At this point, they all knew the risks of celebrating too soon. But after the dust settled, the world kept moving and Eywa herself seemed to exhale. So, they joined together in victory. That also meant that Tamtey had time to heal– enough to be out and about, far less sore and beaten down than they were when Hometree fell.
They sat in a circle among a blend of Na’vi. All different clans, different roles, different personalities. Tamtey found themself fiddling with the little bead that So’lek had gifted them, telling them that he had crafted it to add to their songcord when he could return it– to celebrate them coming home, and his victory against their captors. To remind them that they would never be left behind. It was made from a dried flamingo orchid petal, tightly wound into a bead and hardened with pine resin. They imagined the careful hand it must have taken, marveling at his ability to be so gentle and yet fight so fiercely.
The bowl of zangke in their other hand was delicious, of course, and the conversation surrounding them was lively. Itu sat to their left, and they snapped back to attention when he spoke their name to the group.
“I am sure Tamtey will be kicking the suitors away during the celebrations.” He grinned over at them, and Tamtey felt their face heat and their heart thump at missing where this conversation was going.
They let out a quick, tight laugh. “Stop, you’re being ridiculous. I highly doubt my name would be on anyone’s top list of potential mates.” Their tone was light, but cautious. They knew very little of what any of this would entail– their only true experience with romance, budding or otherwise, was among the human resistance members. They knew next to nothing on how Na’vi chose who they wanted to be with– much less the courting process. Was it even a process? The way it lived in their head was something large, daunting, complicated, and most importantly– unattainable. Tamtey was too much like the Sky People, forever touched by the interference in their life and upbringing. That’s what spun round and round in their head any time they heard someone say “my mate,” celebrated a new mating bond, or accepted a courtship.
But was it? Unattainable, that is?
Before, Hajir had told them about Jake Sully, the dreamwalker that was accepted by Eywa, living full-time as Na’vi, who had a mate and several children. Toruk Makto, the antagonist of the RDA, had a mate and a family. A Sky Person turned into one of the People, truly. Not like… not like how Alma pretended to be.
Did that mean Tamtey, even with their human ways, could have a mate and a family? Did they want that?
Their stomach swooped at the memory of their Sa’nu’s grin, waving her songcord above their head, dodging their chubby little fingers and grinning with unbridled joy. Before the pain, before the suffering. They imagine the roles reversed, looking down at a tiny hand grasping up, up, up, bright gold eyes staring back as opposed to their green–
“Ah, but you would be wrong, ‘eylanay. The mighty Tamtey, a legend among Na’vi and an omen to the Sky People. You will have your pick.” Itu grinned, leaning slightly to bump Tamtey’s shoulder with his own.
They cleared their throat, awkwardly tucking a braid behind their ear. “You flatter me, Itu. Just because you are very popular among eligible Na’vi during celebrations, does not mean I would be. Why is this conversation so focused on me, anyways?” They took a long sip of their zangke, eyes skimming across the smiling faces around them, some of them whispering back and forth.
“I am popular among the eligible?” He laughed, “So you are saying that I am suitable?” Itu’s voice was teasing, bold, and Tamtey quickly choked down their drink and coughed in surprise.
A strong hand patted their back slightly before resting on their shoulder, and Tamtey looked up into familiar golden eyes.
So’lek glanced quickly up in the direction of Itu at their side before cutting his eyes back to them. “Ri’nela was looking for you.”
A few of the Na’vi gathered around gave half-hearted sounds of protest when they stood, but Tamtey brushed it off with a laugh, setting down their now empty bowl. “Tam tam, you will have much more fun without me.”
Although they did not need it, they took the hand that So’lek offered to help them up from their seat on the floor. The warmth of his hand was grounding, but also made their chest squeeze and their ears grow warm.
They turned back to give Itu a small smile and a wave, apologizing, but he just brushed it off with a wave of his hand. They could feel his eyes on them when they turned away.
So’lek led them away from the group, hand only dropping after they cleared the crowd and were alone as they stepped into the night air. They tried not to mourn the loss of the weight of it.
“So’lek? You said Ri’nela was looking for me, where is she?” Tamtey asked, confused, looking briefly around where they now stood outside of the bustling celebrations. They always thought that the bioluminescence was especially beautiful in these parts of the forest. Something about it made their ears perk up and their lungs take in the air with a little more reverence. The moss that hung low glowed in blues, pinks, and greens, the wind blew the blades of grass in waves of light. This corner of Pandora was coming upon a changing season, and the trees shed their leaves before growing them back, brighter and healthier.
He was quiet for a moment before he turned to look at them fully. His face was… embarrassed? Guilty? His ears were pointed slightly back, his lips tight. It was endearing, if nothing was wrong.
“I am sorry. You seemed to be… unhappy with the conversation you were in.” Oh.
They laughed quickly, shocked, “I looked like a caged animal, you mean?” The idea of him rescuing them because they seemed even the slightest bit uncomfortable was heartwarming, but also gave them a touch of sadness. He was always worried after them, and in recent months, he had every reason to be. They hated making him worry.
His ears relaxed slightly as he gave a tiny smile. “Yes. Ri’nela turned in for the night not long ago. I decided to give you an opening.”
“You rescued me from being the topic of conversation. How sweet.” They pushed his shoulder slightly, and he rolled his eyes.
“Itu can be very bold. Zangke only makes that quality much… louder.” He grumbled, not unkindly, but very much annoyed. He knew Itu well– Tamtey had thought it was so funny to see her two dear friends during the Great Games, laughing and shoving each other like the two were both young and untroubled by things like loss, grief, and war.
They loved the times that So’lek’s face softened, his shoulders loosened, and his smile– his smile was one of the things in life they treasured most.
“He means well. I don’t know how much of the conversation you heard. But I had not thought of anyone being interested in courting me, if I am honest.” Their voice was soft, timid, unlike their usual demeanor. Their eyes had drifted to the side, away from his gaze. This was unfamiliar territory for Tamtey, and it was certainly not in the usual genre of conversation they had with So’lek, of all people.
Especially with So’lek.
“It is common among our people to initiate new courtships, and create new mating bonds around such celebrations.” So’lek muttered, face scrunched. “Itu is not unaware of this.”
“Right. I’m still not used to getting a lot of attention, I guess. Just as… me. Not The Sarentu.” They spread their arms out in a grand gesture at the title, bowing slightly to tip their head at him. “It makes sense that he would mention it. I just didn’t expect the uhm– the joking.” Their arms dropped, fingers finding the edge of cloth to fiddle with as they spun around to approach a place to rest. The zangke in their system made their veins hum, and standing was making them sleepy.
“Joking?” So’lek asked, watching as Tamtey hopped up onto a low branch of a large tree, the width of it nearly matching the trunk as it reached low to the ground. It gave them a few inches of height, so they were closer to eye-level with him. So’lek usually stood a hand’s height above them.
“Right. The jokes. The teasing about him being… suitable. For me. I’m not sure if you heard that.” They picked slightly at the moss that dug into the coarse bark below them, avoiding eye contact as they huffed a sarcastic chuckle.
“I did.” Tamtey looked back at him, just as he tilted his head. His face was neutral again. “He was not joking.”
They were sure they looked foolish with how wide their eyes became.
His ears shifted slightly back, his lips pursing slightly. “I had thought you realized that was what he was doing.”
“I– uh. No, no I didn’t. You are sure?” They asked, giving him the opportunity to admit to the joke he was now obviously making. Itu was a friend! They didn’t see him like that. Did he see them like… that? Oh, no– Did that mean they would have to hurt his feelings?
So’lek sighed, tail flicking. “He was not subtle.”
They swung their feet slightly, brushing the grass and fallen leaves but not quite reaching the ground as they broke away from his gaze.
“You should not sell yourself so short. It should not be such a surprise that he would have an interest in you.” So’lek turned his face away, and Tamtey felt a rush of warmth in their cheeks.
They huffed. “I just– I know nothing about courting. About–” mating, they didn’t say “–any of it.”
So’lek scanned their face, flicking his eyes between theirs for a moment before he spoke. “This was one of the many things kept from you. Though I am surprised that Nefika did not attempt to play matchmaker with you, even given the conflicts we face.” His mouth ticked up slightly in one corner, but it was gone in a blink.
Tamtey hummed, giving him a thoughtful look. “Tell me about it.” They prompted, leaning forward with interest. They were half-joking, embarrassed to be so ignorant but struck by curiosity nonetheless. They knew that when they prodded at him like this, these days he humored them more often than not.
“About–?” He blinked, something complex in his expression.
“About choosing a mate.” They tilted their head, “Courting. All of it. If I ask Nefika, she will tease me, or worse, start playing matchmaker like you said. I’m too embarrassed to ask Rasi. Why not ask you?”
He huffed, shaking his head. “You will be the death of me.” A pause. He crossed his arms, looking slightly off to the side, avoiding their eyes.
“Is this something you are considering?” His tone wasn't judgemental. It was cautious, and could almost sound dismissive had they not known him as well as they do.
“Courtship? Or what comes after?” Their eyes met again, and Tamtey almost felt a little dizzy with the intensity of it. Moments like this make them think of those silly human love stories, and how maybe a romantic protagonist getting lost in his eyes sounded fairly reasonable, if his eyes looked anything like So’lek’s.
“Both.” His answer was short– sure– like he was expecting the question.
“Yes.” Their feet became very interesting as they answered, and they bit lightly at the inside of their bottom lip. “I would like to at least know more about what it entails. How can I consider it if I don't know anything about it?” They hoped their light tone covered well enough how they felt at the moment– that it would not betray the rapid beating of their heart and the anxiety thickening the air in their lungs. That it wouldn’t betray who they would want in this hypothetical scenario.
It was quiet for a moment. Not uncomfortable– it never seemed to be uncomfortable when it was between the two of them. Even now, as the thumping in Tamtey’s ribs threatened to send their heart soaring into the sky like an ikran’s first flight.
“Courtship is an exchange of gifts. A Na’vi would give an initial gift to their intended that is deeply personal, and it can be accepted or denied. A denial is to deny the intentions of the gift, and to deny courtship.”
Their face heated with embarrassment. How do they know if a gift is a courting gift? They’ve received many gifts– and they’ve accepted every single one!
They knew not to interrupt. He would get to it, surely. Hopefully. “Each gift is chosen with purpose, showing their intended that they are a worthy choice, that they understand what their intended would be looking for in a mate.” He cleared his throat, and his eyes briefly made contact with theirs again. “There are three gifts. Not every gift you are given is an expression of romantic interest, of course. Gift giving is common. In courting– there is no particular order, but if you receive all three, then this is a statement that someone has chosen you. One gift is to establish potential intent, but the others are confirmation.”
He was quiet for a moment, moving to lean himself against the trunk of the large tree that they were sat upon. Ever-so-slightly inching closer to them, but only if one were looking for it.
Tamtey was certainly looking.
“Each gift is… a symbol, of sorts. One is a representation of the giver. To express the desire to give themself to their intended– body and soul. Another is to represent the intended, showing that they See them, and they know well who they are choosing. And of course, one to represent the clan– saying that they will be alongside not only their intended mate for life, but also those that their intended cares for.”
Their heart tugs slightly at the idea of their clan. It was growing, but would it continue to? No potential mate could ask that Tamtey leave it for another clan– they would never.
So'lek had likely thought the same when it came to the Trr’ong. The fact that he was Sarentu now– their throat tightened just thinking of the loss he has overcome, and how monumental of a commitment it was for him to join them officially. How much of a sacrifice as well as a blessing it would have been for him.
They cleared their throat to dislodge the anxiety sitting heavily in it. “Oh. That’s surprisingly simple. It sort of feels like courting is– fast. Three gifts, and then… what?”
He hummed, shifting his weight. The change of position made him lean an inch or so further in their direction. Tamtey wishes he were closer still.
“It can be quick. It does not have to be– the intended must choose them back. Courting has no timeframe; a gift can come moments, days, weeks, or years apart. But the traditional end is when the intended chooses to give a gift in return. But their gift is not an item– it is a gesture.” He cleared his throat. “They state their choice. And the two form tsaheylu and mate before Eywa.”
Tamtey gave him mercy. “I know about that part.”
His relief is obvious, which makes them smile and huff a small laugh. He would always answer their questions, they knew that. But these questions were far from their usual topics– was this what the Na’vi would call the birds and the bees?
They would normally feel childish about this. But with time, and lots of acceptance, they know that they have to ask the questions to get the answers. It is not their fault that they were raised by the Sky People, filled with lies and hatred, hiding who they were. The moment their mother’s songcord was snatched from them, they believed they would never have the chance to truly be Na’vi.
They were wrong. And they have never been so glad to be wrong.
The gentle breeze had carried a leaf from a high branch and dropped it right onto So'lek's shoulder, resting it on the strap of his newly crafted Sarentu chest piece.
Without thinking, Tamtey shifted over on the branch, scooting to him and leaning in close to pluck the stray leaf from its perch. The two were now far closer than before. They could feel the heat of him contrasting with the cool breeze, how he froze when they leaned into his space. They looked away from the offending leaf, back to his face, and he– he looked so different from this angle.
Tamtey no longer looked up, but straight ahead. So’lek’s eyes were wide and shifting between theirs– and for not even a second– seemed to drop down to Tamtey’s lips.
They lifted the little leaf in their hand, awkwardly pinching it before letting it fall away and catch the breeze again. “Thank you for telling me this. I feel a little less clueless now.” Their voice was low, softer between them to not disturb the moment. They did not retreat back to their original seat. The closeness felt like a charge– making blood pump in their ears and their skin buzz.
For a moment, So’lek looked as if he would say something. Do something. But then…
“You should return. I apologize for interrupting your night.” Ah. Right. Perhaps not.
“I do not feel interrupted, So'lek. Your company is never an inconvenience.” They replied, steady. They ignored the pang of sadness at the idea of him wanting to leave. That they made him uncomfortable.
He paused, contemplative. Hesitant. He leaned closer to them, and they held their breath.
And then he sighed. “Yes, well. All the same– it is late. Good night, Tamtey.”
They tried to ignore how each time they heard their name in his voice, a thrill shot down their spine. He used it more and more often as the days went on.
The physical distance grew between them, and with each breath the disappointment pressed down on them. They didn’t want him to go. They wanted to goad him, tease him for wanting to escape their curiosity, ask him to go flying or share stories by the fire.
They held their tongue. “Good night, So'lek.”
Tamtey did not rejoin the party. It was late, and their mood was low. They instead thought about the topic of the night: courting, of course. And, in turn, mating.
Courting. How does one choose a gift? They had overheard some things; they had come across a Kame'tire gatherer that was anxious to share a balm she made for someone she wanted to court. And Nor had mentioned it, once. A braided necklace that his father had given his mother. He talked about it before the resistance, when they were kids trapped between metal walls. The thought of Nor, of their childhood, stung. They didn’t dwell on it long.
Mating, though– it involved sex. Sex itself was simpler. The students at TAP were given a baseline sexual education for safety purposes, really. Since then, Tamtey had now seen and heard enough from other Na'vi to not feel completely lost. Sex could happen without mating– without marriage. You don’t court someone just for sex.
Mating was something more. They knew the logistics. They would form tsaheylu, and then– sex. Right… yeah. Forming the bond with another Na’vi, a completely different experience to any other connection.
They had seen others form Tsaheylu with other Na’vi in different circumstances– like Anufi and Mokasa. When she found out the truth about her medicines and the Sarentu’s betrayal– a painful memory. A painful connection. So, in mating, it had to feel different.
Tamtey settled heavily into their hammock, watching the woven canopies above them shift slightly with the breeze.
They knew tales of romance and longing and grand gestures in human storytelling. Did it feel like that? Was it different in their culture? Tamtey knew that their habits would be shaped by a human upbringing, but they wanted it to feel like what other Na’vi experience. How does one choose a mate?
Was the way they felt about So’lek reason enough? Would he entertain it?
Itu was apparently interested. The thought still caught them off guard. They would be lying if they said it didn’t make them feel a little bit warm, the thought of being wanted by him.
They didn't even know why they cared so much about this. Itu was a friend, certainly. Was that the makings of a mate? Someone capable, strong, attractive, and they get along great. He makes them laugh. That ticks all of the “romantic” boxes in the human stories. If Tamtey truly wanted a future family, wouldn’t this give them a happy one?
The face that stubbornly wormed its way between each thought was So’lek’s. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his hands. His heart. All things Tamtey only allowed themself to dwell on in quiet moments like these. But So’lek was probably not interested in them like that, and he has shown no indication that he would be interested in courting or finding a mate. He cared for Tamtey, and he was Sarentu now, and having him in their life in that way would have to be enough.
But they knew they couldn't truly humor Itu's advances. How could they? They couldn’t give themself to him when their heart and mind were stuck to another. Maybe with time, but they weren’t so sure. Especially if Itu is asking now. He deserves more than to have someone settle for him.
He didn't make their heart race. They didn't look at him and feel something tugging in their gut, a desire to burrow close and never pull away. Longing. A longing that ran so deep that it rivaled grief. His bright green eyes weren’t the gold that Tamtey dreamed of, his touch wasn’t whose they craved, his voice didn’t send heat through their veins.
They would find little rest tonight. Instead, memories played across their closed eyelids, flitting through their consciousness like kinglor in the forest. Moments of laughter, of vulnerability and closeness. Brief. Precious. Some of them changed shape– they were closer. Intense. Once their consciousness drifted, the dreams had less and less to do with their current reality, and more to do with fantasy. Hands, lips, teeth, tongue. A deep voice calling their name, rumbling it against their throat as they were pressed in close.
Morning came without a fuss, everyone meandering about in various states– from hungover to entirely sober and refreshed. Tamtey had only taken one drink, but the sleepless night of pondering and– imagining– had them rising well after the dawn.
Itu found them tending to Amay's harness. It had taken a beating, so they were mending some of the weaving and seeing what parts of her ornaments needed replacing. Amay herself was lounging right next to her bonded, relaxed but aware.
Itu approached Amay first, cooing at the beautiful Ikran with patterns across her skin like the glowing night sky. “Good morning, gorgeous.” He scratched her chin, and she chirped briefly, allowing it. She admired Itu, Tamtey could tell. She didn't normally let people address her first, and didn't accept affection lightly.
“And good morning to you too, Amay.”
Tamtey's movements paused, briefly. They felt their face flush, ears growing warm at the blatant compliment. So'lek was right about Itu’s interest, it seemed.
They were suddenly very unsure of how to respond.
It felt… good. Good to be complimented, to be given this attention. Now that they knew that that was what it was, of course. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t quite what they wanted.
Amay laid her head to rest once more, angling herself closer to Tamtey’s side. “Good morning, Itu.” They offered, lightly, resolutely avoiding comment on his cheeky compliment.
“Your bond with her is beautiful, ma'eylan.” His voice was calm, almost somber. They remembered how Itu guided them as they climbed the rookery, voice soothing and encouraging as he gave them confident assurances that she was just teasing. That she would pick Tamtey. That Tamtey was worthy.
They felt a pang in their chest. Itu was… so good. He was kind and true.
“Thank you. I couldn't have done it without your help.” They smiled up at him from their place on the ground, hands steady as they weaved in a new piece of the harness to mend a tear.
Itu crouched beside them, smiling down at their work for a moment. “Yes, you would have.”
They looked back up at him in mild surprise.
“You were always worthy of her, Tamtey. And you met her before you ever met me, remember? You told me she had seen you on a cliff.” His smile was gentle, and they felt a wave of affection for him. While they were climbing the rookery, they were so excited– Hey! We’ve met before!
“Yeah,” they said, soft, with a slight chuckle and a wide smile. “I guess I did.”
Itu was closer now, which wasn't unlike him. They only now realize that this may not be an inherent character trait of his, if they were now correctly understanding his intentions. He may just be like this with them.
He leaned over, and Tamtey froze as his finger lifted the charm on their arm guard. The bracelet he gave them after Zomey's funeral.
“You kept this. You still wear it.” His voice was low, contemplative. Vulnerable, for him. He had such a boisterous personality. But Tamtey had seen him at his lowest, and knew him as someone far deeper than his loud voice and joking demeanor paraded on the surface. He cared, truly.
They should have thought harder about it when he gave them something so close to his heart– something to remind him of his bond with Zomey. The charm he wore when they would fly together.
“I did. I do.” Tamtey cleared their throat. Was this gift intended to be a courting gift? Had he stated his intentions, and they missed all of the signs?
The thought that they could have unintentionally misled their friend in something like this made their stomach turn. Another thing that TAP took from them. Their culture, their childhood, and now their consideration.
“It helps remind me of those we've lost, and the bonds we make. Of how grateful I am to have Amay in my life, and the friends I've made.” Tamtey’s voice was soft as they looked up at Itu's far-off look.
“I value our friendship, Itu.”
“As I do as well.” He smiled. “You know, I had brought something to give you.” He reached into a pouch at his side, pulling out a small container. “It is a paint that I had gotten from the Zeswa. It matches your new Sarentu pieces.” He held it out to them, placing it gently in their hand. They looked up at him before slowly opening it, finding a rich, deep purple color. Their chest squeezed.
“Oh, Itu– it’s the perfect shade. I–” they looked back to his face, and he was already searching for something in their expression. They aren’t sure what he found.
“I don’t know what to say,” they sighed.
He gave a low chuckle. “You do not need to say anything. It is a gift.” Their face did something complex and unsure, and they sealed the container, staring down at it as though it would tell them what to do.
“You do not wish for me to court you, Tamtey.”
They blinked up at him like a startled yerik.
His smile was soft as his eyes shifted past them, slightly over their shoulder, before returning their gaze again. “I know this now. I understand. If you ever change your mind, I admire you greatly and I would be honored. But I only wish for your happiness.” He cupped their hand that was holding the paint. “Keep this. Just in case.” He winked.
Their shock bled into a bright laugh. “I'm honored, Itu. Thank you.” Their smile was wide and bright, “Oel ngati kameie.”
“Oel ngati kameie, Tamtey.”
They clasped his hand in theirs for a brief moment, a kind smile on their face, and he returned it before parting from them, standing, and walking away.
If they didn't want Itu to court them, then they may be a fool.
But as Anqa once said, “love makes dumbass people do dumbass things.” Right?
Tamtey felt eyes on them, so they turned to find So'lek standing exactly where Itu had looked over their shoulder. He was tending to Iley, but was staring straight at them. Their heart shot into their throat.
When they made eye contact with him, their smile only grew. Something in his posture relaxed and he patted Iley before walking over.
“Tamtey.”
“So'lek. Good morning.” They gave a silent I see you greeting, their hand extending from their brow, and he returned it.
Amay chirped happily, bumping So'lek's arm with her snout. He raised his brows, exasperated affection all over his face as she sought affection from him. “Good morning, Amay. Is Tamtey actually mending your harness?”
They gasped, a hand over their chest. “Excuse you. I'm perfectly good at mending.”
He hummed, scratching at the impatient ikran's head. “Only when something is on its last threads.”
They laughed, “You never come strolling over to me for light conversation, and now you do it only to bully me.”
“We have conversations.” He deadpanned.
Their smile stayed. “Not what I said, and you're deflecting. What's on your mind?”
His mouth tensed, and he looked mildly anxious about something. He cut his gaze to the new paint that rested next to them– Itu’s gift.
“It is nothing.” They noticed now that he had something clutched at his side, in the hand that was not occupied with scratching Amay. Iley squawked from his position across the landing. So’lek sighed. “Ri’nela has stopped pestering me about rest. With how heavily you use your bow, I wanted to ask how you are recovering.”
“Oh!” They smiled. “That is kind. I’ve struggled with relying on others for hunting, and I’m beginning to go a little bit–” they couldn’t think of the Na’vi word– “stir-crazy.”
His face scrunched slightly with confusion. It was endearing.
“I’m restless.”
“Ah.” His lips curved into a barely-there smile. “I am surprised that you have allowed yourself to rest and heal. I would have assumed otherwise.”
“You have no faith in me,” they sighed dramatically. So’lek simply gave them an unimpressed look.
“Well, since we’re both feeling so much better, how about we go flying today?” They grinned, and he rolled his eyes. “You know if you roll your eyes like that all the time, they’ll fall out.”
“You sound like Teylan.” He grumbled. “We can go flying once you have finished mending Amay’s harness.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Tamtey’s laugh was light as they went back to their work.
“Since you are working on her gear,” he cleared his throat, “this is for her streamers.” They looked up just in time to catch the little bundle as he tossed it, noticing it was the one that he’d had clasped in his hand as he walked over.
“Oh,” they breathed, opening it gently. They saw So’lek shift his weight and cross his arms before they focused on the little parcel.
They carefully unwrapped the cloth, pulling out an entirely new streamer cuff for Amay. It was made from a strong leather hide with a soft interior to slip over her tail, dyed to match her ochre ornaments, with a wooden coin bound to the top. The Sarentu mark was meticulously carved into the wood, the recesses of it painted purple. It was beautiful. They felt their nose burn and their eyes sting as they blinked down at it.
“So’lek, this is–” they looked up to him, their eyes glassy, and he looked startled for a moment. “You made this?”
“I did.” His hand twitched forward, like he was going to reach for them. “Your gear took a beating. I noticed when she was staying at my camp that her streamers came loose. You– you always like to keep her ornamented. So I made it for you.”
For you.
“It’s beautiful. You put our mark.” They sniffed, blinking away the tears that had threatened to form. They stood, stepping closer and resting their hand on Amay’s nose, giving her a brief scratch. So’lek stood in place, eyes looking down to roam their face as they smiled at their ikran.
“Ornamenting her with honor. The Sarentu mark is one of the highest honors I have known.” His voice was soft, low, something precious in it.
Tamtey’s eyes cut to his, their cool green meeting his striking gold. Their smile faltered, soft surprise and touched awe replacing it. They raised their hand to his face, quickly, thoughtlessly, and brushed their thumb across his now risen Sarentu mark. He was frozen– standing stiffly but never pulling away.
The touch was brief, and Tamtey dropped their hand to clasp his shoulder instead. Less intimate. Safer.
He never strayed from their touch. They tried not to let that fact do anything to their head.
They ached with the feeling of his face against their fingers. They wanted to cup his cheeks, cradle his jaw, kiss him fiercely and melt into him as they pulled him closer, closer, closer.
“Irayo, ma So’lek.. It’s perfect.” Their hand fell from his shoulder, coming back to cradle the streamer cuff to their chest.
He gave a barely-there smile in return, before nodding and walking towards where Iley waited restlessly. “I will see you at camp.”
Tamtey let him go, not calling anything after him as he mounted the harness on Iley’s back, making the bond quickly and easily as though it required no thought. It probably didn’t, with how strong their bond was. It must be like breathing, now.
Tamtey knew they were staring. Their thumb brushed blindly across the Sarentu mark in their hands when So’lek gave them one last look, and as they went to give him a smile– his eyes cut to the side, something like irritation shifting in his expression.
They followed his gaze to find Itu, grinning right back at him, gesturing a farewell.
Before they could catch So’lek’s gaze again, Iley had jumped high and taken flight.
Later, as Tamtey began fastening the cuff to Amay’s tail, their hands froze, stopping their work as their face bloomed with heat.
Was… was So’lek expressing interest in courting Tamtey?
Their heart raced as they finished situating the new streamers, hands trembling slightly as they patted Amay, the ikran growing restless as she sensed her bonded’s anxiety. The carefully carved Sarentu mark, crafted for them. But also for Amay– their beloved ikran.
“–Saying that they will be alongside not only their intended mate for life, but also those that their intended cares for.”
Have there been other gifts? So’lek had been gifting things to Tamtey since the day they met. A bow, a staff sling (even if that one came with some teasing), their songcord, for crying out loud–
They lifted it at the thought, their eyes widening at the new bead woven in. A soft, pale pink that one would not immediately associate with the Dog Tag Warrior, but one Tamtey knew to be his. The memory of this gift made their eyes go glassy and their throat squeeze.
“Irayo, ma'eylan. What is this made of? A flower?” Tamtey smiled, fighting a wince as they sat up to receive the bead. Their body was screaming; it had only been a day since So'lek had pulled them from rubble and ruin. The peace felt as though one strong breath would shatter it. But moments like these made it feel real– they were alive. They made it. And there was now a bead to celebrate in their songs.
It was delicate, beautiful– and very unexpected.
“Lortsyawll. A flamingo orchid. It– it is a symbol for the Trr'ong.” He sounded so quiet, and his words felt fragile as they settled between them.
“I love it.”
There was something unsaid in it... It felt like he gave a little piece of himself to keep with Tamtey, a piece of his birth clan. He now bears the Sarentu mark, but the Trr'ong would always be in So'lek's heart– and now on Tamtey's songcord.
He helped them reclaim this part of themself. It is only fitting he appears on it, once or twice. Maybe a few times.
A gift with a symbol of the Sarentu clan. Another to represent himself– a piece of his history, his birth clan.
The thought of So’lek expressing interest, that it was a real possibility, made their mind shift towards further possibilities. Mending Amay’s harness became more and more difficult to focus on as they imagined his hand over theirs, his chest against their back, his breath on their neck–
Amay screeched at a passing ikran, and Tamtey was ashamed to say they flinched. Amay only tilted her head, concerned, and they heaved a deep breath.
One thing at a time. They needed to mend these tears.
But what about the third gift?