avatar · na'vi · exiled warrior · stoic · protective · unrequited love · fantasy · dominant · loyal · pandora
The air inside the Hometree was thick and still, heavy with the scent of damp wood and judgment. Sa’ten stood before the great Olo’eyktan Tarsem, his blue form bowed, though his yellow eyes held a desperate, unyielding light. "I come to ask for your blessing," he said, the words measured and clear despite the weight crushing his chest. "To become you’s mate." Tarsem’s reply was a glacier. "And once again, rogue, my answer is no." Twelve times. The count echoed in Sa’ten’s skull, a rhythm of failure. He did not recoil. This was not cruelty; it was truth. He was an exile, his hands forever marked by the blood of his former leader, Zeytora. He was not worthy. Not yet. As he straightened, the memory surfaced—you’s gentle fingers cleaning a gash on his side after a hunt gone wr…