Languages: English, Na'vi
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
2nd Genre: Romance
Character A: Harry J. Potter
Character B: Tsu'tey
Summary: When they went to sleep, they hoped of a better future. But with Gaia insane and Magic as dead as his friends, Harry has no reason to stay. Escape and exist was all he had in mind when he stowed away on a ship to Pandora. Not another war. Slash.
WARNING: Slash, Character Death, AU, OCs, Dark Themes.
Last time:
She never wished to be a figure of such fear to her Blessed as his Mother had become to him.
She would not allow it. The Sky People were not to be trusted. Or more than just green eyes would fill with tears of pain and anguish.
Eywa swelled with intent.
This tumour did – not – belong!
And now:
"This is getting us nowhere," the mousy brown haired man bemoaned, running soft pink fingers lightly fuzzed with blond hairs through his thinning hair. He pulled a face as the gun turrets clattered again and several shrieks were heard from the forest line, "It's like the whole forest's suddenly gone berserk," he complained, sounding frazzled.
"It's just a bad area. My men can handle it," the older man stated dismissively, as different as night was to day in comparison to the brown haired man in his neat blue shirt and expensive wrist watch, baby soft hands and charismatic smile.
Parker Selfridge sighed, chewing his tongue and looking out the window over Hell's Gate. When he had been put in charge of the Pandora Project he had been ecstatic, over the moon, he was practically the saviour of humanity for this! His name would go down in History books as the man who gave the people Unobtainium, who discovered the cure to Cancer, the Common Cold, Lupus and so many other illnesses that had plagued Humanity since the dawn of civilisation. Even Bird Flu fell before the might of the Pandorian antibiotics they were producing. Not only that, but with people paying out of the nose for just a kilo of the super conductive metal ore he was eking out of the ground – twenty million, twenty million a kilo, he couldn't hold twenty million dollars in his hand, he could swim in it certainly and he fully intended to when he rotated back to Earth for some R and R because he was freaking rich beyond imagination!
"Well, what do we do? There's only so many times we can rebuild the wall or repair the diggers," the brunet pointed out desperately.
In comparison to Selfridge, Miles Quaritch couldn't have been more different. Standing a head above the Head Administrator, he was a powerfully muscled man with short cropped iron grey hair and piercing blue eyes, a set of three parallel scars, still angry and red, from his close shave with a Thanator, curling around his skull. His skin was tanned to a warm caramel and patterned with scars from his brushes with death upon the jungle moon, he wore each and every one of them like a badge of pride, behaving more like a Na'vi warrior than he knew – and Doctor Augustine wasn't too keen on informing him of that little fact either, she would rather avoid the Testosterone hyped G.I. JOE to be completely honest. When the head of the Marines and the head of the Scientists butted heads, it was quite the spectacle for those watching. Some Marines had even begun a betting pool as to whether or not Quaritch would either shoot Doctor Augustine, or fuck her until her brain fell out.
"We widen the kill line. Get more guns, more men, more firepower in here." Selfridge looked stressed at this suggestion.
"And where do we get the funding for this?" he demanded, "With the diggers down we aren't getting a return on the Unobtainium."
Quaritch shrugged a shoulder, "Cut the science budget, I don't care. You want the problem solved? This is how to solve it. Widen the kill line. Give us more space to move and less for them to hide in. Bigger guns mean faster kills and less damage to the equipment."
The Administrator looked pained but even he could see the logic in the scarred Marine's words, he ruffled the back of his hair and grumbled, he was going to get it in the fucking neck from Augustine for this. The woman would be breathing fucking fire when she found out her budget had been cut. Again.
"Alright. I'll put the order in with the Return voyage. We'll get them on the next shipment." Quaritch nodded, face stoic but there was an ever so slightly smug tilt to his lips which only made Selfridge shake his head and smile wryly in return. The money they could get from the Unobtainium shipments would be more than enough to balance her budget at a later date, for now, the security of the Mines and the Base was more important than her puppet-act with the Natives. Speaking of the puppet act.
"How goes things with the Sully brothers?" he asked abruptly. He didn't know all the details, but he did know that Augustine was practically creaming her panties about some Biologist, Tom Sully, who was pegged to join them at the next shipping. The addition of another Squint wasn't something that either Selfridge or Quaritch were celebrating but the Marine was aware of the fact that this Sully guy had a brother, a brother who was a Marine, a twin brother with an identical genome. Now that was something they were interested in.
Production of Tom Sully's Avatar had already begun, the question was, how did they convince the Squint to back down and the Marine to step up?
Quaritch smirked, "Sorted. Jake Sully should already be on a ship heading out here."
Selfridge nodded, he didn't ask how or what was done to make Tom Sully back down and Jake Sully step up – judging by the ghoulish grin on Quaritch's face it was just something that would make him queasy. Better not to know.
"Parker!" a female voice barked and it was all the Administrator could do not to groan in frustration as an incensed Grace Augustine marched over to him with all the menace of a pissed off Hammerhead.
Quaritch smirked at him, "I'll leave you two alone," he said, leaving the room.
Selfridge scowled at him, coward.
The trees were calm and the Great Mother soothed her mental demons as she sought solace within their boughs. Neytiri closed her lemur-like golden eyes as she basked in the sunlight and the peace that Eywa gave her, distantly she could hear the laughter of children from Grace's school and felt her lips twitch into a smile despite herself.
The sleep of her mother, of Tsahik, had been troubled of late.
Dreams of a world filled with Sky People, their Mother crying out in pain and anguish as the Sky People hunted and killed her Blessed Children. Green eyes that filled with tears of pain and fear as the Mother, in her pain and anger and insanity, turned against herself and the last of her Blessed. Her mother would cry in her sleep and the Great Mother would sob with her.
Neytiri saw it as well and she was not sure if she should be pleased with this proof of her claim to become Tsahik after her mother or curse it for the sadness she felt in her heart for the one with Green Eyes.
Already she felt herself watching the Sky People with worry, they had killed their Mother, turned upon their Blessed, and now they tore open her Great Mother, like a tick, a parasite, they took from her flesh that which they had no right to. And it scared her because as before, she felt acceptance and frustrated tolerance of the pain from the Great Mother, now, she felt Anger and Rejection from her. Their Mother Eywa sought to be rid of these Sky People with such a vehemence that it frightened her.
This vehemence was only echoed by Tsu'tey, her Intended.
Almost reluctantly, she found her thoughts lingering on him, on his hatred of the Sky People. It was so powerful, powerful enough to cloud his Vision, he could not See through his hatred of them to actually see his enemies. She sighed, disappointedly, he was too proud at the best of times.
No, she should not think ill of her Intended. Neytiri opened her eyes, feeling guilt as it nipped at her insides, the Na'vi slowly got to her feet and leapt from the tree, landing lightly in the knee high grasses. She needed to distract herself from such uncharitable thoughts, perhaps she should ask Grace about the things she saw in her dreams?
She wished to know more about the Not Sky People that Green Eyes belonged to.
With absolutely no idea just how badly he had stirred the majority of the Planet's inhabitants to rabid fury against the Muggles, Harry was trying to calm a thrashing Wyvern so he could heal the stubborn creature's torn wing.
He was quite the handsome beast, large golden eyes – currently narrowed on him promising retribution for his current indignity, powerful jaws which had been tied shut using a sticky vine, his wings were large and narrow with thick muscle that heaved and strained against the Full Body Bind Curse Harry had placed over it while he worked on the damaged wing. His metallic hide was a warm coffee colour with orange, blue and green markings, the occasional lash of silvery pink and florescent violet catching the light almost like fish scales.
"Hold still, dumb beast," Harry snapped to the creature, it was straining against the Body Bind and succeeding in thrashing very slightly, almost pulling the ripped membranes from Harry's fingers.
This injury was caused by a lot of bullets being fired very quickly while he was flying.
Harry sighed; he was well versed in healing bullet wounds thanks to the Purge. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to summon the shrapnel from the wounds because this had been a clean through and through, the panicked thrashing and flight to get to safety had been what tore the wing open.
He had stumbled across the injured creature while on his way back from fishing, it took him three hours before he'd bagged himself the baddest bitch in the pond. Tired and pleased with his success, Harry had headed back home only to come across the creature. The Wyvern had been flailing around weakly on the cliff edge, calling for his companions or whatever, when the Wizard came across him. Instead of the companions it wanted, the flying menace ended up with Harry who wasn't about to deal with his tantrum and promptly froze him into place so he could heal the damage without getting a chunk of his ass ripped out.
"Episkey," he intoned softly, pressing Healing magic into the great rents within the wing membrane. Carefully, Harry directed his magic to knit the tears back together and rejuvenate the burned flesh and scales.
Eventually, the injury healed, leaving Harry tired and drained.
When he opened his eyes, he certainly wasn't expecting to come face to face with the creature. He yelped and toppled backwards, half expecting dagger-like teeth to sink into his body. The Binding must have come free while he was healing the creature.
It nudged him then, hard, crooning happily.
Oh fuck, Harry groaned and shoved it away, gratitude was all well and good but he was getting the sinking sensation that this was going to come back and bite him in the arse – literally and figuratively. The Wyvern nickered – it was the closest thing he could say that described the odd hiccupping chatter the creature made – and shook itself, nudging against him again and almost knocking him back to the ground.
"Yes, that's nice. Great. Go away," the Wizard told it as he got to his feet, roughly dusting himself free of filth. The Wyvern crooned again and chattered, obviously refusing to do as he was told.
Harry was going to have to sacrifice some of his dinner to deal with this.
Grabbing his Bitch-Fish, he hauled the thing out of the bushes and into the light, it looked rather a little like a brown and red beetle with handlebars sticking out of its head. It was a metre long and about half a metre wide with a bloody maw filled with razor sharp teeth, it was a pain in the ass to hunt and kill and Harry wouldn't be doing it very often that was for sure.
Levering off the thick plates of armour with his knife, Harry carved out a chunk of the fish roughly the size of his forearm, the greasy pulpy pink-white flesh weighing down his hand as he glanced to the Wyvern, its golden eyes glued to the metre long fish.
He lobbed the freshly cut chunk to the side and watched in amusement as the brown beast lunched after it with a shriek of triumph. He shook his head and gathered up his things, the fish slung over one shoulder and a basket of fruits and plants on the other – now containing the removed armour of the fish. He took his leave then, beginning the long slog back to his little house along the treacherous roots that linked each of the floating mountains together.
He was about half way across when he noticed that he was being followed. Followed by either a very hungry Wyvern or a very grateful one, it waddled after him gamely instead of taking to the skies crooning every now and again when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted it.
It seemed inordinately pleased with itself.
Harry grumbled and continued on his way, maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. But of course it probably wouldn't – just to spite him. He wasn't giving the damn beast any more of his dinner! He worked hard to catch the Bitch-Fish; he was going to bloody enjoy eating it!
The Wyvern didn't leave.
After a night of stony silence and eating his food while eyeing the winged creature over the top of the campfire he had given up the ghost, thrown it the remainder of the fish and gone to bed hoping that it would not be there in the morning.
Instead he woke up the next morning to find it curled up, basking in the sunshine like some kind of overgrown feline.
It greeted him in pretty much the same fashion as a cat as well, uncurling and then rubbing itself against his body, Harry almost felt like crying when he realised it was pointedly waiting to be fed. What a greedy bitch! He marched away from the Wyvern, determined to go and have a bath, clean off the sweat and filth from yesterday. The damn thing joined him, splashing him and the like. Against his will, he found himself having more fun during that bath than he'd had in any of the other ones since coming to Pandora.
For the next two bloody weeks the damn thing wouldn't leave his side except to fly the occasional lap around the mountain or visit the rookery, he would always come back. Sometimes with food, most often expecting to be given food, the greedy pig. Everywhere Harry went it was near-by, by this point he had actually given up trying to get rid of it.
He'd even named the bloody creature – Zeus, as almost everything in this place was named for Greek Mythology and the flying menace was just as arrogant and pompous as the Greek God seemed to be from what History lessons Harry remembered.
At least the Menace liked his new name.
Golden eyes narrowed on the tracks left in the mud, small, roughly the size of his hand, five toes, the ball and toe imprints deeper than the heel. He, or she, moved carefully through the brush, quickly but stealthily according to the tracks, either he/she was very confident or very familiar with the location.
The thought made Tsu'tey's blood burn.
Sky People had no right to be in the Sacred Place.
The young Na'vi adjusted his bow across his shoulders, he had passed his test as a Warrior almost vofu – fourteen – turns of the moons ago, he remembered travelling this route to the Ikran Rookeries where he claimed his Partner. It was a difficult fight but the warmth of Tsaheylu made the bruises worth it, the rush of adrenalin from his first flight with his partner more intoxicating than the Dream Hunt he took part in after his journey.
Anger set a low flame in his heart as he traced the little footprints in the thick mud of the riverside, growling under his breath, he turned and marched back to his Horse and mounted. The young Warriors he was leading up to the Thundering Rocks watching him in wary curiosity as he gestured for them to follow.
He would question Grace when he returned with the new Warriors. He did not believe that she would betray them, N'deh had been with her whenever she set foot into their forests, his eyes ever watching of the Dream Walker – though even he was not blind to the growing affection between the Teacher and the Warrior. Neytiri and her sister Sylwanin had giggled like younglings when he questioned them on the wisdom of such a Mating. Apparently, they thought Grace would be good for N'deh and vice versa.
Tsu'tey sneered unhappily and cast his thoughts of the Dream Walker from his mind. The Iknimaya to the Ikran was treacherous, he needed his wits about him lest he join with their Great Mother Eywa before his time
He would revisit the matter of the Sky Person in their Sacred Lands at a later time.
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