p4thfindr

[p4thfindr]

Severed Bonds

[p4thfindr]

I wish you all a nice and good night, sleep well.

[p4thfindr]

#𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐬

[p4thfindr]

[p4thfindr]

Average Kiri behaviour

[p4thfindr]

Everyone thinks they’re radicalized these days. Well start blowing shit up then

[p4thfindr]

Zoe Saldaña as Neytiri Avatar: The Way of Water (2022) dir. James Cameron

[p4thfindr]

Neteyam confronting Aonung and defending his siblings.

⤻ requested by anon

+ bonus

[p4thfindr]

Tarsem gifs

Tarsem is wise for his years. He will be a strong olo'eyktan.

[p4thfindr]

Sully’s golden child Neteyam…💔

[p4thfindr]

Shoutout to characters that are both genuinely deeply kind and also genuinely terrifying and willing to spill buckets worth of blood to get something done. And neither of these are an act, they're just both very true.

[p4thfindr]

“Mighty warrior” Neteyam. Sketch

[p4thfindr]

i'm okay with:

starting over - are you a little overwhelmed with where our thread is going? let me know, and i'd be happy to start a new one with you!

pausing - if you're feeling one thread more than another we have going on, that's perfectly fine! you're welcome to let me know if you'd like, but it's not a necessity.

multiples - if we have a ship that you love and you have many ideas for them, always feel welcome to throw them at me no matter what! while it may affect my reply speed due to having more, it doesn't affect my interest at all!

regrouping - maybe we initially had an idea that didn't pan out but you don't know how to say it? just shoot me a message and let me know you'd like to plot further/something else.

anything else - have we not talked and you want to? shoot me a message! send in a meme if you don't know where to start! ask for my discord! i may not initiate too often myself, but i love being able to love our threads together!

[p4thfindr]

NETEYAM

Avatar: The Way of Water (2022) dir. James Cameron

[p4thfindr]

from the shadows, neteyam had watched, perched high among the dense tangle of branches. he'd crouched low, shadow stitched into the canopy overhead, every muscle taut, every breath shallow. his golden gaze tracked the firefight that had unfolded with a hunters eye. the sharp bursts of muzzle flash, bodies maneuvering through the ferns and churned mud. he'd cataloged it all the same way he might have had he been tracking a pack of viperwolves.

he hadn't needed to interfere, the rda's patrol team had been no match for the foreign soldier and now the forest had gone still in the aftermath of the gunfire. below, the foreign soldier moved carefully, helmet tucked beneath one arm, weapon loose but ready in the hand of his other. he'd reacted quickly to his voice, but not with hostility and that counted for something. so did the way he lowered his weapon, even if it was only by an inch. a real enemy would have opened fire blindly into the trees.

for a moment, neteyam kept his hiding place. muscles tight, instinct urging that he vanish, melt back into the dense curtain of vines and leaves and report his new findings to his father, but not all threats were obvious, and not all allies came easy. this human, this soldier, he was different from the rda. different enough, to warrant a closer look.

neteyam clicked his tongue softly, and dropped down from his perch, landing with an almost silent thud against the forest floor. he swept one glance at the one whose head had been knocked unceremoniously backwards by a well-targeted, or purely accidental, kicked flask. ❝ and you are no friend of the rda, ❞ neteyam agreed in thickly accented english, ❝ but you are not of pandora either. ❞

neteyam straightened, studying the soldiers armor and gear with a curious eye, stepping over one of the fallen rda soldiers, to get a better look at the plated armor, glancing back at the mans face only once his initial inspection was satisfied. ❝ why have you come here? ❞

new msg received @ private terminal —— @p4thfindr subject: re: "i'm kind because i choose to be" prompts (open!)

THREE LETTERS, RDA, ARE STITCHED INTO the patches of every man from the troop now bleeding out into the soil. shepard murmurs the letters several times over under his breath, as though that might jog some distant memory, as he pushes over another body and watches with mild frustration it sinks face-down and several inches into the foliage. no other clues on the man or any of his comrades, and no luck with his own recall either — for all shepard knows, they could be another mercenary gang on the loose. but they're kitted out like soldiers, well-supplied, done up in uniform and certainly more organised than most any mercenaries shepard's had run-ins with. and the fact that they're swarming the spot alliance soldiers went missing...

shepard's hands are occupied, and so he shakes his head wildly to chase off the sweat running down his brow. a trip to pandora wasn't part of the sr-2's initial course ... as least, it wasn't until several hours ago, but he's here as another small favour to admiral hackett. ( one of these days, he'll find some reason to refuse a mission from the man. one of these days. )

" —pard... come in, shepard. status? "

comes a voice over the transmitter in his helmet, tinny and distant from where it's laid beside him on the ground. shepard raises a hand, hovers two fingers by his ear, and activates his omni-tool communicator instead. " garrus. this is shepard. i ran into enemy forces about 4 km east of our drop point. " hackett had given them a general area where an alliance patrol had last been in contact some weeks ago before going silent — so shepard and the ground team split up and fanned out, with another group out on the hammerhead following a nearby coastline and another on the shuttle above, scanning the treeline. " rda — anyone you know from your time on omega? "

a negative from archangel, as shepard expected. with garrus and thane on their way over, he radios the information back to the ship; knowing cerberus' extensive reach, edi is certain to have something more specific in its database.

shepard leans over and picks up his helmet, stepping through the grass in hopes of finding a place to perch until someone arrives. he stumbles — trips over something nearly invisible in the grass. he twists his head back, eyeing the patch of offending ground. a gleam of metal blinks up at him, almost smug where it's tucked beneath the greenery: a flask.

shepard turns, draws his leg back, and kicks the flask as hard as he can. it rockets forward in a near-horizontal line just inches above the ground, smacking with a resounding clang! against the helmet of the soldier he'd just rolled over into the grass. the force of the impact nudges the deceased's head backwards before the flask bounces a whimsical step away into the tall grass.

shepard blinks towards where the flask leapt off, then stares open-mouthed at the soldier's shifted head. then back and forth between the two again.

' that wasn't very nice. '

the voice startles him out of his disbelief at his accidental transgression. shepard glances around in slight alarm, the hand cradling his helmet against his hip loosening in the slightest; his other hand tightens its grip on his gun.

" all right. you've got a sense of humour. " his mind races as he glances around, searching for any sign of movement in the trees. his translator had proc'd; beneath the words he heard a crisp and trilling alien sound. whoever this is isn't RDA, then. the unit he encountered, at least, was comprised of only humans. he's more than familiar with the sounds of asari, turian, quarian, krogan and batarian language by now — this was none of them. a native to pandora?

he lowers his gun just slightly. " coast is clear — i'm not RDA. " clearly. the shootout, he thinks, left little room for alternate interpretations.

" you can show yourself. "

[p4thfindr]

when she spoke, it wasn't the words that he heard first but how she said them. it was the way her eyes flicked back to her team, the way she lowered her voice and leaned forward as if to let him in on a tightly guarded secret. and wasn't it just that? defecting. she was defecting. or had, or was trying to.

his tail twitched once—curling high with a flicker of unease—but his body stayed stone-still otherwise. members of the rda had defected before and of course, it wasn't unusual for norm to have an open channel to those who sought it and yet still, he found it hard to believe her. perhaps it was a trick. perhaps she wanted him to see her as one of them, an ally, a friend to the people. desperation and fear would make anyone say anything that would see them to safety.

and yet, she sounded sincere. and if she was being truthful about her position in the rda, it made sense that norm would want to keep her on the inside for as long as possible, something that neteyam had ended prematurely by taking her and the others as prisoners. ❝ why? ❞ neteyam asked, brows furrowed deeply as he studied her face. like her, he kept his voice low, conscious that the last thing the humans behind her needed was reason to panic further.

❝ why defect? why turn on your people? ❞ there was no judgement in the young warriors voice as he asked, no accusations, only even curiosity and toneless caution. could he take her at her word? unlikely. but norman would be among those who would come for her and then neteyam would have the proof he'd need to believe her.

Observant, their captor’s golden eyes never stay fixed on one place for too long. A watcher is not allowed to rest. During his approach, Brianne unbundles her long legs from under her, lifting herself up from the ground as gracefully as she can manage. Her body’s youth at least aids in not feeling the strain of sitting in this position for as long as she has. The researchers behind her watch and wait to be told what to do. Is it time to keep walking?

     Concern is etched on her striped brow; the strain hasn’t left since they departed the research facility and hardens further at the blunt question. In discomfort, sight corners, her chin starts to turn as if to hint at what will hinder her candidness. The fear of someone discovering her deception keeps her awake at night. She walks forward, narrowing the distance between them and lengthening it for those behind. 

     “Not long ago, I uh.” She pauses and takes a small lean forward so intentionally lowered voice can meet attuned ears. “I contacted High Camp through encrypted comms. I spoke to Spellman about defecting. He told me to wait, I’m more valuable on the inside right now, and to send intel if I could to help the operation. It wasn’t the answer I wanted but.” 

     A shaky inhale brings another pause. In that moment of mental crisis post-rebirth, she needed to do more than crawl out of her new skin. Spellman's answer was hard to swallow, and she thought perhaps he was using her with a false promise, but yet, “I understood. The clearance I have on mining ops, knowing those moving pieces, I sent what I could. No one here knows of this.”

[p4thfindr]

the drone was just a silver speck along the edge of the horizon now, riding thermals above the broken teeth of the coastline. her triumphant call drew his attention back to her as he smiled, real this time. not the thin-lipped tug of the corners of his lips but something wider and boyish.

❝ right. waiting. ❞ his cheer seemed to dampen slightly as he watched her turn back toward the modular's hatch. the airlock hissed faintly as it cycled in the heat haze and he followed her without really needing to think about it. part of him wanted to stay, to keep his eyes on the drone until it vanished completely, but there was more he could be doing. there was always more he could be doing.

she talked about troubleshooting the other drones, cataloging systems, and salvaging something more from the piles of half-dead tech that cluttered the stations rear storage. ❝ it's . . . good work that you're doing, ❞ neteyam said after a beat. ❝ stuff like that, it's easy to forget about it. ❞

Neteyam’s laugh is a kindness to her ears; it further sways the uncertainty weighing down her expression. With an awe-widening grin, upturned eyes continue to watch the drone shrink in the sky, and only sobering when checking her datapad. Camera view is pressed — now to verify all systems continue to function on their journey to the SeaDragon wreckage. The screen takes a second to update, but an aerial view of the coastline appears. She toggles to the front and then to the back camera; all work.

     “I think we did it.” She exclaims, chin turning to her teammate. She shares another smile, proud this time. “It just has to make it there. I guess we can return inside, take a seat and wait.” Easy enough to transfer controls to the main terminal and get a view of each camera on the larger monitor. She turns toward the modular’s airtight entrance. 

     “It’s good, now I can troubleshoot the other drones in storage and catalog their functions properly.” Slowly, she’s working through the piles of discarded equipment, assessing what might be useful to the operation. She was saving the uncertain tech, these drones among them, to last.