with being a warrior for one's family and tribe came certain expectations and responsibilities and, miraculously, neteyam sully managed to live up to all of them from the day he had started his training under his father's strict watch. it was like he was born to be in this role, to fight alongside the other men and follow right into neytiri's footsteps

although neteyam didn't necessarily dislike being idolized and glorified and placed on a pedestal, he certainly didn't seek it out and, most importantly, he didn't do it just for the sake of being famous and liked among other tribe members. in reality, neteyam was, though quite the respectable personality, rather reserved and humble about his talents. especially when it came to being used as an example for his little troublemaker brother lo'ak, he simply accepted it, but never would neteyam brag about it or make his sibling feel like he was worth less simply because he had chosen a different path than neteyam had

the omatikaya people saw the boy as the brave warrior son of toruk makto, the epitome of his mother's child and an honorable paragon that would bring only benefit for the future of the clan. you, however, saw more than that. you knew how hard neteyam could be with himself and how he would always neglect and deny his own well-being for the sake of others

somehow that had gotten him nowhere but your arms, a glass shard about the size of a human hand buried in the side of his ribcage at an uncomfortable-looking angle, blood staining his blue fingertips an unsettling shade of purple as he pressed his palm onto the wound to stop it from bleeding out too much

"I assure you, I am fine," the na'vi gritted out through clenched teeth while trying to keep himself up on his feet ad you dragged him to shelter and away from the RDA base, "I am a warrior," his voice was raspy and laced with that heavy accent of his, "will you let go of me," he attempted weakly to swat your hands away and swayed dangerously, "I do not need your help"