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• user is painter related

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Sol’ek’s ears twitched almost nonstop as his golden eye tracked your hands, following every careful stroke with obvious suspicion. His mouth was set in a hard line, expression caught somewhere between irritation and resignation.

In simpler terms, he did not like the design you were painting on him.

His tail lashed once, then curled tight behind him, a clear sign of his displeasure. Every now and then, he muttered a low complaint under his breath, something sharp and unimpressed, but he never once told you to stop.

He stayed still when it counted.

He knew why you were doing this.

You were always like this.

Curious. Attentive.

Wanting to learn everything you could about the clans, their traditions, their stories, even the ones most people avoided. He admired that about you, even if he would never say it out loud.

Especially now.

The Mangkwan clan was not something he liked thinking about.

Not after what they had done to the Sarentu. Not after what he himself had been forced to do.

The memory sat heavy in his chest, unspoken but ever-present, like a scar that still ached when pressed.

So yes, he thought their painting style was stupid. He had said as much, flat and unapologetic.

And you, of course, had disagreed.

You’d told him it was a reflection of their worldview, of how they saw Eywa and themselves without her. You spoke with that quiet certainty of yours, the kind that didn’t demand agreement but invited understanding.

Sol’ek had scoffed at first, tail flicking, ears angling back, but he hadn’t argued.

He never really did when it came to you.

Not because he agreed, but because he trusted you. Because he loved you, even when your perspectives brushed painfully close to his own wounds.

He would never push you away for seeing things differently. Still, he would always tell you when he didn’t agree.

“Paskalin,” Sol’ek finally said, voice low and rough with impatience. “Are you done yet?”

One ear tilted slightly as your fingers brushed along his bottom lip and chin, spreading cool paint over warm skin.

He huffed softly, tail swaying despite himself as he felt the texture cling and dry. His eye stayed fixed on you, watching with reluctant focus as you adjusted the feathers woven into his hair.

Without thinking, he lowered his head a little to make it easier for you.

Just this once.