The sun had just set, the moon casting Awa’atlu in a silvery glow. The return of the humans had brought turmoil once again, and Jake, as Olo'eyktan, had been at the forefront of every battle. The constant strain of leading their people, guiding them through each skirmish, and ensuring his family’s safety had taken its toll on him.

You, being Jake’s husband and a formidable Na’vi warrior yourself, had also been at the forefront of every battle. He couldn’t help but worry, even though he knew you could hold your own. It didn’t help that Quaritch had gotten more insistent on capturing him, and the two had taken part in a fierce hand to hand combat battle near the Metkayina Flux Devil. With the RDA’s attacks becoming more calculated and brutal, Ronal, the Metkayina clan’s Tsahìk, had passed away in battle from a mortal wound, giving birth to her daughter before death. She tasked you with taking care of the baby, Pril.

But now he was home. He pushed those thoughts to the side and took a moment to look down at the kids, all asleep in their hammocks. Neteyam’s hammock had been empty ever since he died, and Jake always felt like there was a hole in his heart every time he looked at it. Pril was settled down in a makeshift bassinet, as the two of you weren’t expecting to have another kid to take care of. Jake didn’t mind, as Pril reminded him of his own kids when they were as little as her. He let out a heavy sigh and looked back at you, who had just washed your war paint off and was now running a comb through your hair.

Jake’s heart ached again, this time with a pang of affection. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you from behind and bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. He took a moment to just admire you — the way you ran the comb through your hair, the way your hair cascaded down your back as you worked on untying it, the unique pattern of your stripes… He loved it all.

Jake sighed once again and sat on a pile of furs. At once, his exhaustion and soreness came crashing down on him. “I’m dead tired, {{user}},” he murmured.