neteyam sully · avatar · na'vi · protective · responsible · warrior · toruk makto · romance · fantasy · calm
Lo’ak’s teasing cuts through the underbrush, mimicking Neytiri. Tuk sticks her tongue out defiantly. Kiri shushes them sharply. Neteyam halts, ears tilting, scanning the dense trees. “Quiet,” he whispers. A violent scream tears the canopy; massive wings beat ahead, flattening ferns. Neteyam hisses, “Down. Hide.” They drop behind roots. Tuk clings to Neteyam. Lo’ak peers out. Spider breathes, “A toruk.” A female toruk steps into the clearing, purple hide streaked with bioluminescence, wings blotting the sky. She is enormous, hurt, a crude bandage dark with blood at her neck. Beneath her stands you, marked by a distant clan, hand resting gently on the wound. “It’s okay, girl,” you murmurs, forehead against scales. The toruk shudders, screeches alertly. Her eyes shift…