sayitan

[sayitan]

in all ways except physical, i am lying on the ground and thinking about neteyam

[sayitan]

his tail lashed irritably as the one named brianne approached him, unlike his prisoners, neteyam displays no signs of fatigue or exhaustion, his breath remains short and regular, heart beat calm and pulse steady. his golden gaze watched her with steel intensity before flicking back to the scientists whom stumbled and dragged their feet.

❝ we must reach the hunters camp before eclipse. this is the pace, ❞ neteyam said. he punctured his words curtly in an effort to contain his own aggitation. calming his disapproval and his upset, attempting to demonstrate civility despite his feelings. his ears pinned flat against his skull, lips pinched tight before he lifted his gaze to the skies above their head. the density of the jungle covered the late daylight but he could feel the slow drop of the temperature, feel the earths slow beat beneath his feet.

❝ the hunters camp has what you need to survive the night. water . . . rations. the faster we get there, the faster you rest. ❞ his gaze returned to meet hers, the spokesperson for her people. ❝ sit. regain your breath. we will continue in ten minutes. ❞

Oppressive — the dense jungle canopy looms high overhead, enclosing the scientists and one corporate in on all sides. Their warden, moves at high speeds through the dense overgrowth, giving no heed to comfortable pacing for those who become fatigued. The heat, likewise, holds an overbearing humidity. It sticks and soaks through the synthetic fibers of their clothing. Lab coats hang over arms, and many get discarded along the way. Likewise, the sweat collecting around the polymer seals of their face masks constantly needs to be wiped.

     Composed of old and young, those with minimal field experience, and those who sit behind a lab desk all day, none in the group walk without complaint. Disgruntled voices grow less quiet as time stretches, their glances ahead and at each other more fretful — hope feels dashed. Water is needed, the loo too, or simply to sit and rest tiring legs. When another hour repeats thrice over, Brianne decides to intervene.

     The youth of her newly-matured hybrid form affords the tallest in the group an advantage, but she is no less weary, having not expended her energy in the field to this extent. Her protective lock aside the others is broken; long legs catch up to their leader, wary gaze in tow. He wears his displeasure as they do theirs.

     “Pardon, sir.” Carefully she approaches him, subsiding her disgruntlement the best she can. “May I ask how much longer?" There is a breathiness to her voice that was not there prior. "We all need rest if we are to keep at any decent pace.”

[sayitan]

SLEEP  HABITS

NAME:  neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan

RESIDENCE:  currently awa'atlu village, formerly na'ring forest, and ayram alusìng

TYPE OF BED:  a bedroll made from thick hide, somewhat stuffed with freyed flax leaves to create softer cushion.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS:  none. similar to na'ring forest, the temperature in awa'atlu is warm year round, even when raining or storming. should the temperature dip however he does have a full-length poncho he will wrap around himself or use as blanket for himself and a sibling.

NUMBER OF PILLOWS:  none, if needed he'll use his arm.

TYPE OF CLOTHING:  his sleepwear is typically the same as his everyday wear, a plain loincloth and perhaps a thread of leather to tie his braids back. he'll usually remove his accessories if in the comfort of his own marui.

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?:  he still lives with his family so they are always closeby. he usually sleeps beside kiri.

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: yes. it feels odd and lonely to sleep without the familiar sounds of his family. the rustle of their movements, their light breaths.

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: yes. he needs to feel safe in order to sleep and will go out of his way to make it so. if he's out of the village, he'll set traps and sleep above ground for example.

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?:  he'll go for a walk, spend time with his ikran or will admire his surroundings, listen to the sounds of his environment. if he's far enough from others he might practice with his flute.

FREQUENT DREAMS, NIGHTMARES:  since leaving na'ring forest, he dreams often of home. of the rivers, the trees, the ayram alusìng. his favourite dreams are when he's flying, sometimes riding his ikran, othertimes he is the ikran. his nightmares are usually of the forest on fire, of the sound of mo'at or his mother crying. the worst ones are when he's alone and he can't find his siblings or he's chasing after his siblings and he can never get a hold of them or when he does they vanish.

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS:  deep slumber when in the company of his family and in the relative safety of the village. naps when anywhere else.

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP:  usually a few hours after eclipse unless he's on night recon. he's usually good with keeping to a sleeping schedule but stress and anxiety can keep him up.

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP:  his name being called, a touch, the smell of something that doesn't belong such as fuel, cigarette/cigar smoke, or blood. he typically wakes quickly as well.

EARLY OR LATE RISER:  early riser, unless he didn't sleep well the night before, or if he was on night recon, in which case he will sleep in.

tagged by: @prvtocol tagging : @parulite, @seasmoon, @txepviriir, @alootus, @d4gangera

[sayitan]

they would need to move quickly. neteyam met the recom's hardened gaze with an expression of contempt. as with all things, she and her researchers had little clue on what it was they were truly asking for. for the resistance to harbor them, they would need to shelter them, clothe them, feed them. all were resources that should be allocated to their fighters, to their leaders and kin, to the refugees displaced by the rda's expansion. but why would they care for such things as long as they themselves survived?

with bow in hand, neteyam led his prisoners into the treeline, the dense jungle folding around them in seconds. once they were far enough from the outpost, neteyam activated the charges and the sound of the explosions rippled through the air while hot gusts of wind rolled in waves through the tree trunks.

neteyam's pace was harsh and grueling but he didn't allow the humans to lose sight of him as he led the way through the wilds. their clumsy footsteps and heavy breathing were easy enough to track even with his back to them. no fighters certainly, evidently none were explorers or athletes either.

❝ like yerik on fresh legs. can't even walk straight, ❞ neteyam grumbled to himself. he slowed his pace, stopping on a large tree root to allow the troupe to catch up to him. his golden gaze swept their surroundings, studying their path and listening for any followers.

She says no more, and then with the acceptance of her request, a sigh of premature relief escapes on a breath she didn’t know she held. As if dejected, chin falls with it, sight blank on the cleared ground, her voice only murmur of what it was. “Thank you.” The hope is that they may find sanity among the human Resistance leaders — if they are willing to take RDA defectors, maybe the same can be said for those who surrender. If anything, she can buy her people more time than those battery packs allow. A deep breath returns her resolve and a guarded stare to the vigilante to offer herself up to the eventual slaughter. 

     “Brianne Landry. They will know who I am.” The same Landry who exchanged a few rounds of intel with the Resistance to move her scientists on the ground. A lucrative catch; the foreboding thought makes her faint. His departure from her space has her pivoting on rubber soles and sight returning to the huddled botanists to fuel another round of wordless communication — what in this world is she doing? 

     It is done. A question of what was said lingers in her concerned stare but she dare not ask it; her people need to move and move fast. “We have to follow him!” The tone of her voice reclaims some solidness. “We are surrendering, and we need to get away from the building.” The revelation causes even more commotion, hushed voices clamoring. "But our things," one says. "What will happen to us?" Says another. It all results in inaction. Price, the lab's head moves to Brianne's side, necessitating her to lean down to listen to his lowered voice. 

     With a furtive glance at the one called Nightshade, he finds the need to remind the director of rules she knows too well. “The RDA will have us court marshaled for this.”

     “And the alternative?” Her voice isn't as hushed as his. “You have ten hours of breathable air. No transport is coming in that time. None were called. If we don’t go, he will blow the facility and leave us here. Trust me to negotiate.” The urgency undercutting each word is picked up by her translator and another lab assistant who take the initiative to move the group forward, away from the building. 

     “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Heavy words to leave the director with as he turns to follow the group, his steps dragging, knowing his research, his life’s work in the making, is about to be destroyed. Her eyes again fall on this Nightshade as if to say he better keep his end of the bargain.  

[sayitan]

i really do love neteyam and how he is just a boy coming of age and all the complexities that comes with while his home, his world, his people are suffering and at war. how his childhood was being homeless, a refugee recovering from the destruction of hometree that he never got to see and never got to love. how the omatikaya became nomads because their home was gone, how the jungle became their sanctuary, how mo'at tried to make a home near hell's gate but that it never really worked and just when they were finding their feet again the rda returns and it is all destroyed again only this time twice over. i love that he's a boy in the middle of growing up and he's excited and eager and determined and he makes mistakes and makes snap judgements and is molded by his parents, his grandparents, and his clan. how his connection to eywa is more pragmatic, more practical, he doesn't read or feel the signs like his grandmother, his mother, or his sister but he believes anyway and i just really have so many thoughts and no words

[sayitan]

neteyam smiled, his relationships with humans may be slimmer than his relationships with his people but of those he counted as his friends, padmé's commentary was all too familiar. sometimes neteyam would find himself listening to norm and max argue, how quickly their spitballing would spiral and escalate only to smooth out before the end. of course, the na'vi could also argue, could also be indecisive and hesitant, but perhaps not as volatile. the people had tsaheylu, what they couldn't convey eywa would provide.

together, neteyam and the senator came to a halt at the sound of beating wings. the young warrior's gaze rose to the canopy of branches and leaves above them, tracking the rustle of branches and the falling of leaves. neteyam glanced back down at the senator and the sudden brightness within her face, a wonder and a curiousity that shone behind her eyes.

❝ no blackbird, ❞ neteyam said and within the same breath he made a call, a high pitched yip that carried further than perhaps it should have. there was a moment of quiet, and then a call resonated in reply and neteyam's smile widened. ❝ it's the ikran. would you like to meet him? ❞

gifted in speaking, knowing how a language could flow and be used in order to weave phrases to whichever sort of need at hand; this, and many other things, were an 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 part of her nature, but from an unknown planet and its dangers her tongue couldn't be able to rescue her. even if padmé would've considered her skills of survival to be on a decently good level, there was no shame in admitting how the surrounding world could've easily swallowed her a whole during the nighttime, had she not been followed by neteyam. same could be stated about her colleagues, at least the most of them — skilled, but not in this area of things, not to her knowledge. playing an inner back and forth with endless possibilities and what if's, as much as she liked to practice it, was something that padmé forced silent for now, focusing on his voice and her steps instead.

every sentence rolling from his lips appeared so very genuine and therefore oddly pleasant to listen that at times the senator found herself suddenly not at all fluent in any known language, simply listening and enjoying how no lie nor plot had permanently stained his spirit. even if padmé herself usually aimed for nothing but the truth, it would've been hypocrisy to say she had never spoken a lie — to a certain extent, a soul would pull influences towards it like a magnet, and coruscant's heart was by no means pure. ❝ oh, she is very right about that. humans surely tend to be indecisive rather often. what we think and feel rarely go hand in hand. ❞

before she could respond again, padmé's attention was fully caught by a nearing sound of what she could only assume being wings taking wind under them. the sound was so loud compared to any ordinary birds she might have seen before that it made her steps come to 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭, eyes eager to spot the creature flying closer to them, though high above. ❝ that didn't sound like a blackbird ❞, she mused out loud, the mask of a senator slipping for a minute. curiosity had turned victorious.

[sayitan]

the na'vi rolled his eyes, her complaints nothing he hadn't heard before but he didn't need to tell her that if she wanted to continue exploring outside of the village she would need to find a way to get over her fears. ❝ not the bow, ❞ neteyam said, because he did remember the last time addi had held one and shot an arrow, and almost took his fathers head off. ❝ but tracking, learning to s— ❞

neteyam swallowed the rest of his sentence upon the small child's approach. he was used to the children keeping themselves apart from him, while they were rarely afraid of na'vi the height tended to cause some discomfort. evidently, not for little riley.

neteyam smiled, accepting the paintbrush from her tiny fingers, ❝ thank you riley, ❞ under riley's studious gaze, neteyam painted a blue ikran in flight. it was no masterpiece, mostly shapes combined to make something recognizable. and while he painted, he talked to addi, ❝ as a hunter we learn to see and listen for the signs of predators, of dangers in the jungle. i can teach you this so you know what to avoid, ❞

ㅤAddi's head ducked slightly, hands raising in defense as she didn't want her hair messed up ( it was a pain getting it to stay tidy with the stupid head strap ). Her reflex was slightly too slow and given it was the end of the day, a little fly away strand wasn't going to be a tremendous bother.

ㅤHer thoughts went through several stages of.. something. Consideration, distaste, bargaining, frustration, all mixed in to a look that was nowhere near thrilled at his suggestion. Settling on raised brows and a sarcastic shrug she finally replied, ❛ I can see the forest just fine. It's right there, ❜ she pointed beyond the near fence line. ❛ See? Trees and bushes and.. pointy things and bugs. Loads of bugs. ❜

ㅤSarcasm trailed away, she turned to fiddling with the strap of her hand-me-down cargos. Hunting was something she felt was far out of her scope of abilities. Her mind immediately went to bows, arrows, and purposefully looking for other things as a target. Hexapedes were freaky to look at but the last thing she wanted to do was aim at one. ❛ You've never seen me use a bow, have you? I could aim at the ground and miss. Uncle Jake tried teaching me once. Almost took out his eye. I think it would be better if - ❜

ㅤOne of the younger girls had walked over, paintbrush in hand. Unlike the others, she showed no hesitation - rather the opposite The kids never feared their Na'vi neighbors, but there was an inherent intimidation that came from only reaching the height of their knees. They never ran, but also rarely approached on their own. This child looked pointedly at Neteyam and held up the brush.

❛ This is Riley, ❜ Addi introduced. ❛ she wants to make sure you feel included. You have to paint something now. ❜

[sayitan]

neteyam nodded, accepting that she had a firmer grasp on the datapad than himself. he inspected the drone, flipping it over in his hands, spinning the propellers of its wings and ensuring there were no wires crossed or missing parts. the green light flashed and he felt the small battery within its body vibrate against his fingers. he peeked over the drone and at the datapad screen, watching as the blackness changed to show the floor and his feet. he wiggled his toes and the camera focused in on the movement.

❝ before that, ❞ neteyam said cautiously, he pressed his fingers to the comms unit at his throat, ❝ devil dog, this is pathfinder. we have a drone going live and sending to your coordinates. over. ❞ neteyam looked at brianne as he waited his fathers response. his voice came clear through his earpiece and after some back and forth, conceded to the drones use. neteyam smiled, nodding to brianne and gesturing for her to exit the pod.

❝ testing it now. i'll let you know, over. ❞ neteyam assured as he followed brianne back outside. he held the drone losely in the palm of his hand.

A hand slides out from under the drone to accept the datapad just as Neteyam unburdens her other hand from it. Sully’s son unsurprisingly knows a thing or two about Sky People tech, but she can’t fault him for not knowing his way around a datapad. “No worries. That I can use.” She tells him, swiping on the clear screen and finding the signal monitor to pair it with the drone. “There we go.” A small green light on the drone begins to flash. Perusal of the drone app’s interface which opens stirs a low hum from the former director — a needed moment of consideration before she pushes anything. “Let’s try the camera first.” Pressing the button brings up a blacked-out monitor; a long second drags before the steel floor and part of Neteyam’s bue feet shows on the screen. “Well, that’s working. Now the rotorblades.” Another button is pushed on then off, the blades turn and Brianne thinks they might just figure this out.

“Fortunately these drones are automated so with coordinates, we should be able to send it directly to the site.” Those of Three Brother’s Rock or the final resting place of the SeaDragon are known markers. “I did migrate the RDA’s most current locational data so this map is updated at least.” All thanks to surveys of these regions in the earlier days of their return. The map synchs, a breath is taken from her CO2 mask, and she realizes, “Uh, perhaps we should go outside to fully test it. I'm liable to fly it into a wall.”

[sayitan]

neteyam grinned up at skora, golden gaze wide with the remnants of his wonder and his excitement, unaware of his friends concern. ❝ some things are worth getting hurt for, ❞ neteyam said matter-of-factly, taking a deep breath and exhaling through his nose in an effort to calm his still racing heart.

❝ i feel lucky, like i will have a good day, ❞ neteyam confided. he wasn't so connected to eywa as kiri, nor as his mother or skora himself but surely seeing nawm'ean was a sign. though of what he couldn't know, perhaps a blessing for his next hunt, or for the obstacle course with the other hunters. a promise that when he needed speed, he would have it.

neteyam looked up at skora, heeding his praise and his words seriously. he nodded, exhaling another deep breath as he focused on his excitement and rode the waves so he might release it as his elders had shown him. ❝ then maybe you should come with me, ❞ neteyam said, a cheeky curl to his smile, ❝ nothing bad can happen if you're with me. ❞ // @tarsyu continued from here .

[sayitan]

❝ . . . oh. ❞ for a moment, the young warrior appeared embarrassed. his ears flicked back and his cheeks darkened a shade of deep blue. he wasn't sure why the other's words flustered him the way that they did, but they were kind and perhaps that kindness was what shocked him. it shouldn't have, surely, there were many friends of the people who were kind and yet he still hadn't expected it from an outsider.

❝ thank you. but it is our home, we would not have strangers fight alone for us. ❞ neteyam said once he had recovered, still, something in the young warrior's posture had changed. a shift in weight, an openness that hadn't been there before and upon the praise to his home, neteyam looked beyond and through. his home was wild and dangerous, a place of pride and power and he cherished it as he would his very blood.

❝ i think there are many who would not trust an outsider, ❞ neteyam said honestly, brows furrowed deeply as he considered the clan leaders and their tsahìk. neteyam's tail curled subconsciously around his ankles as he debated what to say next. ❝ there are some that if you convince, the others will listen. akwey and ikeyni are well respected . . . there is also toruk makto. he was once an outsider. ❞

neteyam cleared his throat, discomfort evident. it wasn't that he wished to hide who his father was, but he didn't want the jedi to think he could help him convince the war council to hear him. he was only a scout. neteyam settled, listening to obi-wan as he explained the enemy and their relentlessness. he nodded intently, tribulation settling in his chest that he let flow through him before releasing it to eywa. ❝ then we hit them hard and we hit them fast, ❞ neteyam conceded as if it were a simple thing. he stood then, offering the jedi his hand, ❝ i will take you to the war council. ❞

"Let me rephrase myself, I do not want your people to fight." More often than not, planets readily accepted the GAR's help, lacking either the resources, capabilities, or interest to do it themselves (on the most depressing assignments, all three). It managed to be equally both relieving and frustrating, that innocent people would not be harmed fighting an enemy they did not create, yet at the cost of his own men whose sole purpose had been to defeat that very enemy. "This is not me doubting you nor your capabilities, but there has been enough death here . . . let me spare you from any more of it."

"It's beautiful here." Possibly one of the most tranquil places he had ever visited, even more so than Illum with its endless crystal caves and clear night skies with a breathtaking view of the neighboring galaxies. And it certainly was a stark contrast to Coruscant, where his battalion spent most of their time when not fumbling through space (he suspected the first level alone would be enough to give his young friend a near heart attack). "I'm sorry your people were dragged into this . . . do you think your council would be willing to compromise? Let my men lead the first attack, have yours hang back and hold the line in case any of the first wave gets past us."

It was likely he was still asking for too much. Had Obi-Wan a home world (one beyond the one where he'd simply been born) then he would have wanted to defend it as well, would have found it insulting to not even be given the choice.

"The Separatists are unlike any enemy you have faced before—unlike anything I've ever faced before—they just don't stop." They didn't fight with people, they fought with an endless amount of blood money and blackmail. They fought with droids, machines, and (on occasion) bounty hunters with no morals to claim, all of which had no care for casualties and no need to differentiate a soldier from a child when it cost them nothing to make the mistake. Their atrocities were easy to cover up and they most certainly had enough moles in the Republic's justice system to ensure they never saw any accusations of war crime.

"If you don't hit them hard and hit them first then it will cost you a siege that which would see your homes destroyed and your people dead."

[sayitan]

❝ i am not here to save you. our home, the people, eywa is not here to save you. ❞ neteyam said, his voice scarcely louder than a whisper. he wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry. he wanted to scream, but his throat only seized around the lump in his throat. yet there was one truth that neteyam swallowed like thick tar. none left were fighters. they may be complacent in the horrors the soldiers of the RDA had led, but they weren't warriors.

neteyam's tail lashed behind him, agitation and impatience evident as his breaths were short and heavy. ❝ you should not be here. your fault. ❞ neteyam said through clenched teeth and he hated that he couldn't articulate in their language why they were as guilty as those that pulled the triggers. still, the young warrior glanced between her and the researchers. there was an ugly part of him that felt that he didn't care if they lived or if they died. that wished to leave their fate to the wild. they had come to his home to take, so let them take it, in all it's beauty and danger.

❝ i will do as you ask, ❞ neteyam said tightly, ❝ the resistance will decide your fate. what are you called? ❞ only once he had her name did neteyam pointedly step away from her and the scientist that had acted as her translator. neteyam kept the discussion short, even while norm made efforts to warm him as family always did. once he had a rendezvous, he ended the call curtly and returned to the recom called brianne and her researchers. ❝ it is done. i'm destroying this place, you can follow or stay. but i will not wait. ❞

Desperation seeps further from eyes shocked by his total disregard for her pleas and lack of care for their lives. With jaw-locked, strained sight drags from beholding his cruel resoluteness to the scientists under her charge as they stare back at her in equal trepidation. He speaks of his laws, claiming them the culprits of the RDA’s misdoings, and that’s enough to justify his cruel ends. Enough to justify murder.

“Please. If you let us live, we need extra battery packs, rations.” Hands fold over a heart that beats irregularly as her habitually soft but firm voice trembles in fretful urgency. “We cannot venture far. None of us are fighters.” The facility is remote; once HQ discovers it’s offline it will take time to send reinforcements. Ten hours is all those batteries have; it's not enough time. “These are innocent people, doing research meant to save lives. They are not the ones ruining your home.”

But one cannot reason with a coldhearted killer who knows nothing of how the RDA functions. He sees the RDA as a monolith, he speaks in absolutes — there has to be something else. The Resistance.

“If you will not allow this then contact the Resistance. Contact Norm Spellman. Or Max Patel." Oh, how she hopes those names are familiar. Someone had to have taught him English. "I will give you my name and they will trust what I can offer you and them.” 

[sayitan]

i just love this kid sm. i think about him constantly.

[sayitan]

the young warrior knows, knows the same way he knows that to leave a babe in the jungle alone is to condemn it to death, he knows that without their technology and without their soldiers, the researchers would not survive the night. yet, he was unmoved by the concept. his home was a dangerous place, wild and untamable. if humanity wished to come to his home, they would experience it as all did. they would see the beauty, and the savagery, and love it all the same.

❝ i would trust nothing you have to say. ❞ neteyam said coldly. there were none who could understand the internal workings of the rda like someone who worked for them, and yet anyone that worked for them were inherently untrustworthy. even now, she and her colleagues would do and say anything to save themselves. none understood, none could see and neteyam would not be the one to teach them.

❝ i will not let this place survive. you have violated the laws. you are destroying our ways, our home, the people. ❞ neteyam shook his head, golden gaze flicking to the humans as they huddled together. ❝ i've seen your work. i've heard the cries. you do not deserve to be here. ❞

The noxious smell of burning fuel assaults her nose as already troubled sight is berated by the lifeless bodies piled about; her stomach twists and her heart sinks. It looks like SecOps barely put up a fight. The researchers anxiously march out before they corral once more, hyper-aware of the blinking charges they pass on their way — this place will blow with them too close to the perimeter. Total destruction of everything of use-value to the RDA, including the fruits of their scientific labor, any comm-unit that could get them a direct line to HQ, and the extra batteries for their exo-packs. If he lets them live, they only have ten hours before that power runs out. She has to make this worth it.

Wealth. Medicine. Roads. Treaties. The Na’vi want nothing but the RDA to depart and never return. Fools on both sides brought it to this point. If this cutthroat vigilante is wise enough to see, what she has is just as valuable.

She leans forward, ears still pinned down; eyes that can barely pretend to shed their fear beseech his. “I can offer information.” Her voice is hushed, not needing her subordinates to be included in this conversation. “Strategic information. More if you wait before blowing this facility to the ground.”

[sayitan]

was thinking of atfop and specifically alma and nor stabbing her because i found this image

y'all are telling me alma didn't even die?? after all of that???

[sayitan]

i know he's [redacted] but neteyam will always be the big brother

[sayitan]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  [ … ]   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄,

bold what applies - italicise sometimes.   repost,  don’t reblog.

fights honourably / fights dirty

prefers close - quarters / prefers range

chats during / goes silent

low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance

attacks in bursts / attacks steadily

goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively / strikes first

is provoked easily / provokes their opponent / teases

gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking

uses strategy / focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle

rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging

fights wildly / fights calmly / fights apathetically / fights with anger / fights with excitement

fights because they have to / fights because they want to

fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another

prefers a blade /  prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow / prefers a shield / prefers a personalised weapon / prefers magic alchemy or spells

their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional

transforms for battle / fights as they appear

relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed

uses everything they have / proceeds with caution / hides their full potential 

exhausts quickly  / has high stamina

behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities

uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength

avoids civilians / strikes down civilians

damages surroundings  / avoids damaging surroundings

signature fighting style / makes it up as they go

mastered skill - set / learning their skill - set

messy fighter / elegant fighter

accepts defeat / refuses defeat / begs for mercy

compliments their opponent  / insults their opponent

uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves

prefers to dodge / prefers to block

defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable

uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method

plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy 

waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready

fears death / fears pain / fears killing

has ptsd / avoids fighting

has lost a fight / has won a fight

has killed / refuses to kill

wants to die standing / would succumb slowly

tagged by : nada, seen on @raehs tagging : @tagaloak, @tahnisreu, @parulite, @tarsyu

[sayitan]

the rda personnel concede, some more reluctantly than others but neteyam had no interest in maintaining control over the researchers for long. carefully and with fevered urgency the researchers fasten their exo-packs to their faces and neteyam unclasped several incendiary charges from his belt, fixing them to the shacks interior walls as he herded the humans to the exit. every few moments one of the humans would glance fearfully over their shoulders or share concerned looks with their superior or with each other.

❝ smart choice. outside, now. ❞ neteyam said, that undercurrent of fury still lingering within his voice even as he sheathed his hunting knife. he followed the humans beneath the darkening skies of his home and amongst the remains of the research camp. there were bodies on the ground, smoking remnants of amp suits and, like the interior of the shack, there were set charges blinking softly against every major piece of machinery.

❝ and how would you help me? ❞ neteyam asked, ❝ offer me wealth? medicine? promise to leave and never return? ❞

The knife presses and Brianne’s bony shoulders concave, inching her neck back as the jagged blade knicks her skin. Sharp. Sharp as the fangs flashed and the hiss undercutting his words. You harm, he sneers, the anger suppressed only in favor of making demands. Time is no criminal’s friend.

The director is not naive. Her words ring hollow, but it is too complicated to explain the clash of ideologies wracking her subdivision. The greater good (for humanity) objectives and ethical guidelines of her researchers will always be undermined by the RDA’s for-profit venture. They will take, use, and abuse to meet stipulations on contracts she holds them to.

“Do as he says.”  Order rather than argument passes from the director’s lips as strained gaze corners briefly on the huddled botanists, wanting to prevent any more delays that might perturb their assailant further (or inch the blade any closer). So he intends to lead them outside the facility, away from any comms devices. Were distress signals sent out by the SecOps guards before they met their end? No one even had time to sound the alarm. 

In silence, the scientists deplete the exopacks lining the wall, fitting the masks airtight to their faces before filing to the door. Fear is etched on their faces; stories of Nightshade, the boogeyman of these parts filter through their troubled minds. Will he leave any of them alive? For Brianne, it sets another reminder of SecOps' incompetence.

"We'll do as we're told." Palms stay raised and her voice stays gentle over the light trembles of her worst fears. Still, duty drives her alongside self-preservation; she will plead if she needs to and bargain if he’ll let her. “And maybe I can help you.”