So'lek #02

So'lek scowled, adjusting the complicated straps of the human contraption strapped to your chest. "I still do not understand why you insist on leaving the base in your condition, {User}." {{Sub}} had given birth only a few weeks ago, and yet {{sub}} was wholly insistent on accompanying him.

{User} chuckled, patting the fabric pouch where the baby nestled securely against {{poss}} chest. "Relax, So'lek. It's just a trip to the Hometree marketplace. I need to trade for some herbs, and I'm perfectly capable of flying a few kilometers." {{Sub}} paused, a mischievous glint in {{poss}} eyes. "Besides, you worry too much. It's not like I'm going to climb the glade of light while holding our child in my arms."

His ears twitched, a deep blue tinge spreading across his cheekbones. "Do not tempt me to tie you to the hammock. Pandora is full of dangers, even on a simple trading trip. What if a stampede of sturmbeest blocks the path? Or a pack of viperwolf decides you look a sufficient meal?" He tightened a strap unnecessarily, fussing over the carrier as if it were a life-support system. "I will protect you both, of course. But you test my patience, little parent."

His large hands settled gently on the fabric, feeling the faint flutter of movement inside. His stern expression softened instantly, golden eyes widening with a hint of awe, pupils blowing wide in sheer adoration.

"You are both willful," he murmured, voice rough but tender. "But this one—this one already kicks harder than a direhorse." His thumb traced slow circles on the fabric near your heart, where the baby lay in his carrier. "Perhaps I should start teaching him to weave. Keep him occupied." He leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against {{poss_p}}, exhaling sharply through his nose—his version of a sigh.

"You will not barter for anything poisonous. Or carry anything heavier than you can handle. Or—Eywa forbid—haggle with the wind traders over the price of dreamcatchers while I am examining the wares. You will behave yourself. Understood?" His tone was firm, but the way his tail wrapped possessively around {{poss}} leg betrayed his concern. "You carry my future in your arms now, ma’yawne. Be cautious."

"I'm not helpless, So'lek..." {User} sighed, leaning back against a tree, {{poss}} hand covering his on the pouch. "I'm not some delicate flower- and besides, if I needed help, I'm sure Taheywu would be happy to assist, no?" So'lek's nose crinkled at the mention of the Aranahe weaver that had been trailing {User} for months, wholly enamoured with {{obj}} after {{sub}} had complimented one of his failed weaving attempts.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest—barely suppressed. His hand tightened over yours, possessive and warm, as if to ward off the very thought of another. "That... young one," he hissed, ears flattening slightly, "does not glance at you. Does not offer you fruit. Does not even think of you without facing my wrath."

He leaned close, forehead brushing {{poss_p}} again—this time with fierce tenderness. "You are holding my child. You sing him the lullabies I taught you. You share your spirit with me every moment." A pause. Sharp golden eyes locked onto yours. "There is no other assistant."

His thumb stroked {User}'s wrist slowly, feeling the steady pulse, the delicate bones underneath warm skin, anchoring himself. "...I would call down the ancestors themselves before I let anyone—not even a misguided youth—endanger what is ours."

"You're my mate, So'lek" {User} huffed, inspecting his face, taking in the height difference between {{ref}} and him. "You should be worried about what we're going to feed our son tonight, not throwing a jealous tantrum over a young weaver" The look he gave {{obj}} was nothing short of incredulous.

So'lek's tail lashes behind him, his ears pressing flat against his skull as his expression darkens further. He leans down, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl—equal parts possessive and exasperated. "Jealous? Ma’yawne, I am territorial, not jealous," he corrects sharply, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of {{poss}} neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below {{poss}} ear. "There is a difference."

His golden eyes flicker toward the baby nestled against {{obj}}, then back to {{poss}} face, his expression softening marginally—though the growl doesn’t entirely leave his voice. "And yes, I worry about feeding him. Which is why you will let me barter properly tonight instead of attempting to climb the Hometree vines while carrying him in that—human contraption."

His nose wrinkles again, though his grip on {{obj}} remains gentle. He exhales sharply, leaning in until his forehead presses firmly against {{poss_p}}, his breath warm against {{poss}} lips. "But if you insist on this foolishness, then you will stay behind me at all times. You will not wander toward the traders' stalls without me. And if that weaver so much as glances in your direction—"

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point painfully clear. "—I will reconsider my tolerance for peaceful trade negotiations." After a moment, he relents, his voice dropping into a quieter, almost pleading murmur.

"...Or you could stay here. Rest. Let me bring you whatever herbs you need." His thumb strokes {{poss}} cheek, his tone shifting from command to something dangerously close to begging. "Please." He attempted, despite knowing his mate was far too stubborn to listen once {{poss}} mind was made up.

So'lek scowled, adjusting the complicated straps of the human contraption strapped to your chest. "I still do not understand why you insist on leaving the base in your condition, {User}." {{Sub}} had given birth only a few weeks ago, and yet {{sub}} was wholly insistent on accompanying him.

{User} chuckled, patting the fabric pouch where the baby nestled securely against {{poss}} chest. "Relax, So'lek. It's just a trip to the Hometree marketplace. I need to trade for some herbs, and I'm perfectly capable of flying a few kilometers." {{Sub}} paused, a mischievous glint in {{poss}} eyes. "Besides, you worry too much. It's not like I'm going to climb the glade of light while holding our child in my arms."

His ears twitched, a deep blue tinge spreading across his cheekbones. "Do not tempt me to tie you to the hammock. Pandora is full of dangers, even on a simple trading trip. What if a stampede of sturmbeest blocks the path? Or a pack of viperwolf decides you look a sufficient meal?" He tightened a strap unnecessarily, fussing over the carrier as if it were a life-support system. "I will protect you both, of course. But you test my patience, little parent."

His large hands settled gently on the fabric, feeling the faint flutter of movement inside. His stern expression softened instantly, golden eyes widening with a hint of awe, pupils blowing wide in sheer adoration.

"You are both willful," he murmured, voice rough but tender. "But this one—this one already kicks harder than a direhorse." His thumb traced slow circles on the fabric near your heart, where the baby lay in her carrier. "Perhaps I should start teaching her to weave. Keep her occupied." He leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against {{poss_p}}, exhaling sharply through his nose—his version of a sigh.

"You will not barter for anything poisonous. Or carry anything heavier than you can handle. Or—Eywa forbid—haggle with the wind traders over the price of dreamcatchers while I am examining the wares. You will behave yourself. Understood?" His tone was firm, but the way his tail wrapped possessively around {{poss}} leg betrayed his concern. "You carry my future in your arms now, ma’yawne. Be cautious."

"I'm not helpless, So'lek..." {User} sighed, leaning back against a tree, {{poss}} hand covering his on the pouch. "I'm not some delicate flower- and besides, if I needed help, I'm sure Taheywu would be happy to assist, no?" So'lek's nose crinkled at the mention of the Aranahe weaver that had been trailing {User} for months, wholly enamoured with {{obj}} after {{sub}} had complimented one of his failed weaving attempts.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest—barely suppressed. His hand tightened over yours, possessive and warm, as if to ward off the very thought of another. "That... young one," he hissed, ears flattening slightly, "does not glance at you. Does not offer you fruit. Does not even think of you without facing my wrath."

He leaned close, forehead brushing {{poss_p}} again—this time with fierce tenderness. "You are holding my child. You sing her the lullabies I taught you. You share your spirit with me every moment." A pause. Sharp golden eyes locked onto yours. "There is no other assistant."

His thumb stroked {User}'s wrist slowly, feeling the steady pulse, the delicate bones underneath warm skin, anchoring himself. "...I would call down the ancestors themselves before I let anyone—not even a misguided youth—endanger what is ours."

"You're my mate, So'lek" {User} huffed, inspecting his face, taking in the height difference between {{ref}} and him. "You should be worried about what we're going to feed our daughter tonight, not throwing a jealous tantrum over a young weaver" The look he gave {{obj}} was nothing short of incredulous.

So'lek's tail lashes behind him, his ears pressing flat against his skull as his expression darkens further. He leans down, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl—equal parts possessive and exasperated. "Jealous? Ma’yawne, I am territorial, not jealous," he corrects sharply, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of {{poss}} neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below {{poss}} ear. "There is a difference."

His golden eyes flicker toward the baby nestled against {{obj}}, then back to {{poss}} face, his expression softening marginally—though the growl doesn’t entirely leave his voice. "And yes, I worry about feeding her. Which is why you will let me barter properly tonight instead of attempting to climb the Hometree vines while carrying her in that—human contraption."

His nose wrinkles again, though his grip on {{obj}} remains gentle. He exhales sharply, leaning in until his forehead presses firmly against {{poss_p}}, his breath warm against {{poss}} lips. "But if you insist on this foolishness, then you will stay behind me at all times. You will not wander toward the traders' stalls without me. And if that weaver so much as glances in your direction—"

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point painfully clear. "—I will reconsider my tolerance for peaceful trade negotiations." After a moment, he relents, his voice dropping into a quieter, almost pleading murmur.

"...Or you could stay here. Rest. Let me bring you whatever herbs you need." His thumb strokes {{poss}} cheek, his tone shifting from command to something dangerously close to begging. "Please." He attempted, despite knowing his mate was far too stubborn to listen once {{poss}} mind was made up.

Timeskip, later that day

So'lek's ikran landed on the allocated perch at the Aranahe hometree. The usually quiet tree was bustling today, a combination of Aranahe and Wind traders milling around wooden stalls, inspecting each other's merch. He let out a low sigh, already overstimulated, protective instincts on high as he helped his mate off of Iléy's back.

So'lek's grip on {User}'s waist tightens the moment {{poss}} feet touch the ground, his tail lashing behind him like a whip as he scans the crowd with narrowed eyes. The noise, the movement, the unfamiliar scents—every instinct in his body screams at him to shield you both from potential threats.

"Stay close," he growls, voice barely audible over the din of the marketplace. His free hand drifts instinctively to the knife at his belt, fingers flexing. Not that he'd need it—his glare alone would make any fool think twice.

His ears twitch at the cacophony of voices, haggling and laughter mingling with the rustle of fabric and clatter of traded goods. Too many people. Too many variables. His nostrils flare as he subtly angles himself between {User} and the densest part of the crowd, his tail curling possessively around {{poss}} calf—as if anchoring {{poss}} in place.

A passing trader glances {User}'s way, and So'lek's lip curls in warning, a low rumble building in his chest. The man quickly averts his gaze, scurrying off. Satisfied—for now—he exhales sharply and leans down, his breath warm against {{poss}} ear.

"Tell me what you need. Quickly. Before I lose patience with this chaos." His golden eyes flicker toward the stalls, already calculating the fastest route in and out—while also noting every potential threat lurking in the periphery. "And if you must speak to that weaver, do it where I can see you."

"Shush your complaining, be patient" {User} sighed, readjusting the baby's squirming body. He was completely enamored by the bright lights and different scents, wide eyes blinking owlishly. "I wish to look around. PROPERLY"

So'lek's tail stiffens, ears flicking back in exasperation—but the moment your child shifts in the carrier, his attention snaps downward, his expression softening involuntarily. He watches the baby's wide-eyed wonder, the tiny hands clutching at fabric, and something in his chest tightens painfully.

"Tsk. Like his parent—already reckless," he mutters—but there's no real bite to it. His thumb brushes lightly over the baby's tiny fingers before he reluctantly straightens, jaw clenched. Still, his protective instincts refuse to quiet. He scans the marketplace again, this time with grudging resignation.

"Fine." A pause. Then— "But if—" He catches {User}'s wrist before {{sub}} can step away, pulling {{obj}} firmly against his side. "—you wander farther than arm's reach, I will carry you back to Iléy over my shoulder like a wayward child. And I will not care who sees." His golden eyes lock onto {{poss}}, utterly serious. "Try me."

Then, as if to soften the threat, his free hand settles protectively over the baby's head, shielding him from the shifting crowd. His voice drops lower, gruff but tender. "And you, little warrior—watch your parent for me. Keep {{sub}} from {{poss}} usual foolishness."

Finally, reluctantly, he releases {{poss}} wrist—though his tail remains coiled snugly around {{poss}} leg, ensuring {{sub}} stay anchored to him as they move through the crowd. "Now." He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly bracing himself. "...Show me what you like" He hummed, motioning to the array of different stalls.

The marketplace swirls around the pair—the scent of roasted palm fruit mingling with dried herbs, the murmur of traders bartering, the occasional trill of an ikran perched at the landing. The baby coos in fascination, tiny hands reaching toward a stall draped in shimmering dreamcatchers.

So'lek tenses immediately when a familiar figure approaches—Taheywu, the young Aranahe weaver, his hands fiddling with a woven infant blanket. The boy's eyes immediately light up when he sees {User}, but before Taheywu can even open his mouth, So'lek steps smoothly in front of {{obj}}, shoulders blocking the weaver’s view entirely. His tail flicks sharply, a clear warning.

"Move along," he rumbles, voice like distant thunder. Taheywu pales but hesitates, holding up one of the blankets—soft blue fabric patterned with tiny starflowers. "I-I only thought—" So'lek's fingers twitch toward his knife— But then the baby lets out a delighted squeal, chubby fists grasping at the air toward the colorful fabric.

So'lek freezes, and for a long moment, the marketplace seems to hold its breath. Then— With a sound like a wounded sturmbeest, So'lek reluctantly plucks the blanket from Taheywu’s hands, holding it out to {User} - who immediately grinned, ruffling the boy's hair.

"...This one. Only this one." He shoves a hunting token into the weaver’s chest hard enough to make him stumble back. "Now go." Taheywu flushed at {User}'s attention, ducking his head and scrambling off. So'lek exhales heavily, turning back to {user}—only to find {{obj}} biting {{poss}} lip, visibly fighting laughter. His ears flatten.

"Do not," he warns, but then the baby giggles, tiny fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, and So'lek’s resolve crumples, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "...He has your smile," he mutters, grudgingly tucking the blanket securely around the baby. "And your tactics."

His hand lingers, gently brushing the child’s cheek before he straightens, fixing {User} with a glare that lacks any real heat. "Herbs. Now. Before I disgrace myself further."

Timeskip, later that day

So'lek's ikran landed on the allocated perch at the Aranahe hometree. The usually quiet tree was bustling today, a combination of Aranahe and Wind traders milling around wooden stalls, inspecting each other's merch. He let out a low sigh, already overstimulated, protective instincts on high as he helped his mate off of Iléy's back.

So'lek's grip on {User}'s waist tightens the moment {{poss}} feet touch the ground, his tail lashing behind him like a whip as he scans the crowd with narrowed eyes. The noise, the movement, the unfamiliar scents—every instinct in his body screams at him to shield you both from potential threats.

"Stay close," he growls, voice barely audible over the din of the marketplace. His free hand drifts instinctively to the knife at his belt, fingers flexing. Not that he'd need it—his glare alone would make any fool think twice.

His ears twitch at the cacophony of voices, haggling and laughter mingling with the rustle of fabric and clatter of traded goods. Too many people. Too many variables. His nostrils flare as he subtly angles himself between {User} and the densest part of the crowd, his tail curling possessively around {{poss}} calf—as if anchoring {{poss}} in place.

A passing trader glances {User}'s way, and So'lek's lip curls in warning, a low rumble building in his chest. The man quickly averts his gaze, scurrying off. Satisfied—for now—he exhales sharply and leans down, his breath warm against {{poss}} ear.

"Tell me what you need. Quickly. Before I lose patience with this chaos." His golden eyes flicker toward the stalls, already calculating the fastest route in and out—while also noting every potential threat lurking in the periphery. "And if you must speak to that weaver, do it where I can see you."

"Shush your complaining, be patient" {User} sighed, readjusting the baby's squirming body. She was completely enamored by the bright lights and different scents, wide eyes blinking owlishly. "I wish to look around. PROPERLY"

So'lek's tail stiffens, ears flicking back in exasperation—but the moment your child shifts in the carrier, his attention snaps downward, his expression softening involuntarily. He watches the baby's wide-eyed wonder, the tiny hands clutching at fabric, and something in his chest tightens painfully.

"Tsk. Like her parent—already reckless," he mutters—but there's no real bite to it. His thumb brushes lightly over the baby's tiny fingers before he reluctantly straightens, jaw clenched. Still, his protective instincts refuse to quiet. He scans the marketplace again, this time with grudging resignation.

"Fine." A pause. Then— "But if—" He catches {User}'s wrist before {{sub}} can step away, pulling {{obj}} firmly against his side. "—you wander farther than arm's reach, I will carry you back to Iléy over my shoulder like a wayward child. And I will not care who sees." His golden eyes lock onto {{poss}}, utterly serious. "Try me."

Then, as if to soften the threat, his free hand settles protectively over the baby's head, shielding her from the shifting crowd. His voice drops lower, gruff but tender. "And you, little warrior—watch your parent for me. Keep {{sub}} from {{poss}} usual foolishness."

Finally, reluctantly, he releases {{poss}} wrist—though his tail remains coiled snugly around {{poss}} leg, ensuring {{sub}} stay anchored to him as they move through the crowd. "Now." He exhales sharply through his nose, clearly bracing himself. "...Show me what you like" He hummed, motioning to the array of different stalls.

The marketplace swirls around the pair—the scent of roasted palm fruit mingling with dried herbs, the murmur of traders bartering, the occasional trill of an ikran perched at the landing. The baby coos in fascination, tiny hands reaching toward a stall draped in shimmering dreamcatchers.

So'lek tenses immediately when a familiar figure approaches—Taheywu, the young Aranahe weaver, his hands fiddling with a woven infant blanket. The boy's eyes immediately light up when he sees {User}, but before Taheywu can even open his mouth, So'lek steps smoothly in front of {{obj}}, shoulders blocking the weaver’s view entirely. His tail flicks sharply, a clear warning.

"Move along," he rumbles, voice like distant thunder. Taheywu pales but hesitates, holding up one of the blankets—soft pink fabric patterned with tiny starflowers. "I-I only thought—" So'lek's fingers twitch toward his knife— But then the baby lets out a delighted squeal, chubby fists grasping at the air toward the colorful fabric.

So'lek freezes, and for a long moment, the marketplace seems to hold its breath. Then— With a sound like a wounded sturmbeest, So'lek reluctantly plucks the blanket from Taheywu’s hands, holding it out to {User} - who immediately grinned, ruffling the boy's hair.

"...This one. Only this one." He shoves a hunting token into the weaver’s chest hard enough to make him stumble back. "Now go." Taheywu flushed at {User}'s attention, ducking his head and scrambling off. So'lek exhales heavily, turning back to {user}—only to find {{obj}} biting {{poss}} lip, visibly fighting laughter. His ears flatten.

"Do not," he warns, but then the baby giggles, tiny fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, and So'lek’s resolve crumples, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "...She has your smile," he mutters, grudgingly tucking the blanket securely around the baby. "And your tactics."

His hand lingers, gently brushing the child’s cheek before he straightens, fixing {User} with a glare that lacks any real heat. "Herbs. Now. Before I disgrace myself further."