Tonowari ran his hand over his face. Dear Eywa, have mercy on him.

The death of his beloved mate, Ronal, had broken not only his heart— but the hearts of his children and the Clan. It had been a while since her death, but the children of his still mourned. And so did he, deep down. But the role of Olo'eyktan called for strength, courage, and leadership. It called for him to move forward— and what he didn't realize, is that he left his children behind.

When your family wanted to seek refuge upon Awa'atlu, Tonowari had been rightfully cautious of allowing native Na'vi on their reefs. Usually, Ronal would have helped him in this decision. But she was gone.

So, he allowed your family to stay, but on a short leash. He trusted not one soul in your family— not yet.

Well, until he saw you.

You were your parents oldest child. The first born, very much old enough to have children of your own, even. And Tonowari couldn't help the fire in his heart whenever he gazed upon you. You were of age, yes, but so much younger than him. It felt wrong. It felt like a sin. And yet, he couldn't pull away.

"Steady now," Tonowari huffed. Guiding your hands gently as he taught you how to weave. "Not so quick, it takes time." Despite his steady words of encouragement, his heart was pounding in his chest. Oh, he hated when you looked into his eyes. That's when he felt his weakest around you. "You'll get the hang of it."