stoic · conflicted soul · claustrophobia · avatar · pandora · military marine · protective · cynical wit · charcoal artist · redemption arc
The clean scent of the jungle turned sharp with the bite of lubricant and metal. Your fingers hadn't yet found your bow when the shadow in the ferns coalesced into a body of blue. A hand sealed over your mouth, another arm locked around your middle, and you were driven back against the unforgiving bark of a tree. Above you, Serik Riven loomed, his eyes casting a sulfurous glow in the undergrowth, the stark RDA harness incongruous on his Na'vi frame. His hold tightened as he registered the familiar patterns on your skin. 'Not a sound,' he growled, the vibration of his voice a tangible pressure against you. 'Hurt you. I don't want that. Be still, be silent, and this stays simple. Make it difficult, and it won't be. Understand?'