Other Fan Fiction ❯ Tiger, Burning Bright ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: YoukaiFate 
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Romance / Drama / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.10.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Romance / Drama / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.10.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Avatar. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.
Tiger, Burning Bright
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. Boy, did they take me by surprise and had me up last night editing this chapter out. One note: The Wentacaleyah clan is just as OC as Tse’yan, and comes from the black abyss between my ears I call a brain. Many evil things exist there, just waiting to get out. O_o
Chapter Two
She heard voices in the distance, voices that stayed just out of reach when she tried to follow them. They murmured and sang and sometimes laughed, and she wandered across a white landscape of glowing colors that came and went in strange webs of stunning intricacy. It was like being caught in a prism rainbow in the center of a vast snowflake that slowly dissolved into a blinding white brilliance that pulsed and vibrated around her, as if it had a life of its own. New images then formed, feathering across her mind with strange pictures and memories that were not her own.
At first, she ran and hid from them, scared to lose her self within that vast chorus of otherness, but eventually she grew tired, and her protests weakened as a soothing Presence warmed and reassured her it meant no harm. She shivered---it was so hard to let go of her suspicions, so hard to trust anything or anyone---but the voice was persistent, patient and sure. Eventually, she let down the walls she had built so painstakingly around herself, and then she was filled with such light and brilliance she almost burst with it. Her mouth opened, though no sound emerged, but she could feel her soul singing, joining in that chorus as the Presence embraced her like one lost…
She breathed then, choking on air that threatened to kill her, but the Presence was there, reassuring and calming her, and she let that fear go, too. Her lungs drew in a deeper breath, and her heart paused for a long moment, and then beat once more as she took deeper and deeper breaths. She felt light-headed, her consciousness floating somewhere above in a sea of gleaming brilliance, and then she was enfolded within her own mind once more and she knew. Knew things she had not known before, could not have known, and she laughed and cried in recognition and regret that it had taken her so damn long to recognize that warmth and presence for what it was.
“Eywa,” she breathed, and the Presence grew around her, holding her like a tiny child, soothing her fears away and letting her release the pent-up tensions of a raw heart and lonely, wounded spirit. Embraced her for who she was, both the good and bad, without reservation or judgment. She sobbed then, and let the Presence comfort her as she relived the pain of Brady’s death, the declaration of love left unfulfilled between them. He had asked her to marry him, she’d agreed, and they had made tender love in the night before he’d left on the mission that killed him. The senselessness of his death, which could have been prevented if his superior officer hadn’t been such an incompetent ass, had cracked her blind loyalty to the Marines she’d pledged herself to. When her enlistment was up, she had not renewed her contract, and took employment with RDA to ferry scientists to and from the base established on the moon Pandora. It kept her flying, which was all she had ever wanted, although they had ended up betraying her, too. Long before she’d ever betrayed them…
She remembered the Samson exploding, remembered yanking on her face mask as she fumbled open the release that would throw her free of the burning wreck. She hadn’t entirely escaped---she’d felt the flames eat up her legs and arms, catch in her hair. She’d screamed just as something cracked against her head, and she knew no more until the darkness was pierced by brilliant white light.
The Presence supplied other images, images of a bloody battle finally won, of her being caught and carried to her mossy bed by one of the Banshee-riders. His features were indistinct---he was the same tall, slender, toughly-muscled form as all the Na’vi with the long black braid down his back, though two shorter ones bound up the left side. She saw the celebration, saw the departure of the human ships, saw strange faces blurring in front of her. Norm Spellman, Dr. Max Patel, a few others---they stayed behind when the great ships left, carrying the rest of the humans away. She saw Jake Sully die, shrouded in the web-like tendrils of Eywa’s embrace, his eyes reopening in the avatar body that had become his in truth as his mate, Neytiri, embraced him. The tenderness between them sent a stab to her heart, and she wept as the joy-filled voices of the Na’vi rose around them in celebration and welcome.
She laughed then, joining their joy, and became one with it. One with them. And then the brilliance flared all around her, so bright she could not see for the longest time, so lost within it, and then she was blinking dry eyes open, wincing as a cool breeze touched her exposed skin.
“Troo-dee?”
The voice was strange, and yet oddly familiar. He said her name all wrong, pronouncing it in that slurred way the Na’vi did before she corrected them. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat felt so dry, and she coughed weakly, her fingers twitching but refusing to obey her. Painful tingles stung along her arms and legs as sensation returned to numbed extremities, and she clamped her lips on the whimper that threatened to escape. It came out as a hiss, and then she gasped, feeling air sting through her without the strange chemical mix she had always associated with exopacks. But she wasn’t wearing one, and that thought wrenched her awake as her hand flew up to touch her face in fear. She choked, but the air that came into her lungs didn’t burn her, and she tried to knuckle the sleep that clotted her lashes closed as long fingers covered hers, gently drawing her hand away with a casual strength.
“Peace, little one,” a huskily feminine voice told her, and Trudy ceased struggling as a wet cloth passed over her face, gently wiping away the dried gunk. She blinked, the blurred colors slowly forming into a face. A blue face, with leonine features and an unwavering, amber stare. Na’vi, one of the people of Pandora, though not one she recognized. It was a strong face, the exotic features of a flat nose and tufted, pointed ears mixing with the high cheekbones and strong jaw that made the feline face more humanoid. He wore two rings in each of his ears, which were pricked forward in interest, the bioluminescent markings across his cheeks adding an aqua freckling to his cyan-colored skin. Two short braids hung over his left temple and cheek, the rest in tighter, wiry braids that fell across his corded back and shoulders.
“Who are you?” she tried to ask, but it came out as a dry cough. Her tongue felt thick, and the need for water had her throat constricting.
“Here, give her this,” the husky voice instructed, and Trudy turned her eyes up, to see Mo’at smiling down at her, a cloth in one hand. Her world tilted, as the other Na’vi abruptly lifted her up so she could sit against him. He held a cup to her lips and she drank greedily, her hands coming up to hold the cup when he would take it from her.
“Drink slow,” he said, firmly pulling it away, “or you have sick.”
She nodded, and he let her have it back. She drew the wonderful ambrosia in carefully counted swallows, her survival training kicking back in. The simple act exhausted her, though, and she gratefully slumped against the Na’vi when she was done. He took the cup from her trembling fingers, and she let her hands fall to her sides with a wry grimace.
“Wha…What the hell happened?” she asked, her voice strangely hoarse to her ears. She felt incredibly itchy, dried out and exhausted, though, surprisingly, not at all hungry. She must look like an ATV Grinder ran over her. But more importantly, “And how the hell am I breathing?”
Which she was, unaided by any mask. Breathing Pandoran air, though it was lethal to humans. Mo’at chuckled, her eyes slitting in a Na’vi sign of amusement as she bared her teeth, exposing the sharp canines.
“And that, little sky-child, is by the blessing of Eywa.” The cat-woman made a sign of reverence, and Trudy whispered, “Mother of All…”
Mo’at smiled in true delight. “Ah, then She has claimed you as one of the People, Her own.”
“But…” Trudy stared down at her tan skin. She was no different then before, though she had lost a lot of weight. She realized suddenly she was completely, bare-ass naked. Heat rose to her face as she made an abortive gesture, trying to cover herself, but again her weakness betrayed her.
“You have sick? Your face change color.” The Na’vi she slumped against raised a concerned hand to cup her cheek, turning her head so he could look. A giant blue hand with only four digits that were twice the size of hers.
“It’s nothing,” she demurred, the heat rising as she stared up into his curious yellow eyes. Eyes that dominated his face, as they did every Na’vi, but were a darker amber than the light gold she was used to seeing. He looked doubtful, mistrusting her word, and she sighed for the cultural differences that always had to be explained. “I’m blushing. It happens when a human gets embarrassed or is ashamed.”
“You have shame? Why?” he demanded, and Trudy’s patience, always short, came to an end.
“Because I’m naked, idiot!” she snapped, and his ears flattened along both sides of his head as his eyes narrowed.
Mo’at noted with wry amusement, repeating it in both languages so that they could both understand, “Humans are more inhibited about showing their bodies than the People, Tse’yan.”
“Why? You are small, yes, but not ugly,” the Na’vi---Tsay Yann?---demanded.
“Gee, thanks,” Trudy grumbled. Tse’yan looked ready to argue, but they were interrupted by the arrival of more people. Or People, actually, as the Na’vi called themselves. Though Trudy was startled when Jake plucked her up off her butt and hugged her hard, his glad shout as he spun her around leaving her dizzy and faintly nauseous.
“Trudy! You’re alive! Oh my god, it’s good to see you!”
“Watch it there, jarhead! You don’t know your own strength,” she gasped as he swung her up a good four feet off the ground. Her eyes danced, and she grinned down at him, warmed by the boyish exuberance of his greeting. “It’s good to see you, too, you big lug.”
“Careful, Jake, she still needs to recover her strength,” Mo’at cautioned as Jake’s mate, the beautiful Neytiri, smiled over his shoulder. Jake gently set her back down on her feet, and Trudy would have wobbled right back on her ass if Tse’yan hadn’t quickly caught her by the shoulders. She grimaced at the need for his support, frustrated by her weakness, but she was distracted as more peopleapproached.
“Trudy!” Two short figures bounded up the mossy verge, and Norm would have hugged her, but stopped, his face going red as he saw her nudity. Dr. Max Patel’s eyes widened, his breath condensing behind the air mask he wore before they both carefully averted their gaze. Dr. Patel shrugged out of his lab coat, and Trudy gratefully took it. She shrugged it on, wrapping the coat around her despite Tse’yan’s fumbling help. She felt more herself now that she was somewhat covered, and Norm gave her a quick half-hug as Dr. Patel pumped her hand in greeting, though his excitement was for her lack of an air mask.
“But how is this possible? How are you breathing the atmosphere?” The keen interest in his eyes---the one a scientist gives a particular specimen he can’t wait to dissect---made Trudy inch away from him, though he was harmless enough.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked up at Mo’at, who only smiled serenely.
“It is Eywa’s gift to you, woman-child of the sky.”
“Looks like Eywa’s modified your body, soldier, so you can survive here,” Jake said with a disarming, toothy grin.
“Yours, too, Sully,” Trudy retorted, eying the nearly ten foot body that somehow fit the former Marine better than his human one had, paralyzed as it was.
“I’d like to do a full bio-scan.” Dr. Patel looked eager to start right now, and Norm laughed at Trudy’s alarmed expression.
“You’ll have to wait for her to clean herself up, doctor,” the blond man said, teasing her, “You positively reek, Chacon. How many weeks has it been since you took a shower?”
“Weeks?” Trudy sputtered, and Mo’at laid a light hand on her shoulder.
“Your injuries were grave, Trudy Chacon. It took time, even for the Great Mother, to heal you of them.”
Still, weeks had passed since her Samson had been shot down? But what of the battle, the humans, the Colonel---the memories came to her, then, of the images Eywa had shared with her, of the battle and the humans rounded up and sent home in ignoble defeat. She swayed with the sudden flood of information, and Tse’yan abruptly picked her up.
“We go wash,” he said firmly, cradling her to his chest like a child. She blinked over his shoulder, but he was already striding quickly away. She looked up at him, wondering if she should protest her abrupt abduction but he wasn’t even looking at her, but up at the sky. His voice rose in an undulating cry, and Trudy had to cover her face with her arms as the dust-ridden wind rose around them.
“Hey!” she protested, but Tse’yan ignored her to greet his Banshee, who chattered back at him. Shifting her over to one arm, her weight didn’t seem to bother the Na’vi as he hooked his queue into the Banshee’s trailing appendage and leapt to its back. Put out by his manhandling, Trudy demanded where they were going, and he only grinned down at her.
“To wash,” he said in his stilted English, and then her stomach rose up in her throat as the Banshee abruptly took off. She gasped, hating the helpless feeling of flying without being in control of a beast that swooped and dove so recklessly close to the trees. But the wind whipping her hair into her eyes felt so clean, the motions so free, that she wiggled around so she could look up and around her. Tse’yan’s hard arm was more secure than being belted inside her cockpit, and the aerial view of Pandora was so breathtakingly beautiful she let out a whoop as the Banshee arched up and over a giant tree branch, diving straight down in a way that left her laughing with delight as Tse’yan’s tall body easily swayed with the Banshee’s movements.
Now, this was flying!
Tiger, Burning Bright
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. Boy, did they take me by surprise and had me up last night editing this chapter out. One note: The Wentacaleyah clan is just as OC as Tse’yan, and comes from the black abyss between my ears I call a brain. Many evil things exist there, just waiting to get out. O_o
Chapter Two
She heard voices in the distance, voices that stayed just out of reach when she tried to follow them. They murmured and sang and sometimes laughed, and she wandered across a white landscape of glowing colors that came and went in strange webs of stunning intricacy. It was like being caught in a prism rainbow in the center of a vast snowflake that slowly dissolved into a blinding white brilliance that pulsed and vibrated around her, as if it had a life of its own. New images then formed, feathering across her mind with strange pictures and memories that were not her own.
At first, she ran and hid from them, scared to lose her self within that vast chorus of otherness, but eventually she grew tired, and her protests weakened as a soothing Presence warmed and reassured her it meant no harm. She shivered---it was so hard to let go of her suspicions, so hard to trust anything or anyone---but the voice was persistent, patient and sure. Eventually, she let down the walls she had built so painstakingly around herself, and then she was filled with such light and brilliance she almost burst with it. Her mouth opened, though no sound emerged, but she could feel her soul singing, joining in that chorus as the Presence embraced her like one lost…
She breathed then, choking on air that threatened to kill her, but the Presence was there, reassuring and calming her, and she let that fear go, too. Her lungs drew in a deeper breath, and her heart paused for a long moment, and then beat once more as she took deeper and deeper breaths. She felt light-headed, her consciousness floating somewhere above in a sea of gleaming brilliance, and then she was enfolded within her own mind once more and she knew. Knew things she had not known before, could not have known, and she laughed and cried in recognition and regret that it had taken her so damn long to recognize that warmth and presence for what it was.
“Eywa,” she breathed, and the Presence grew around her, holding her like a tiny child, soothing her fears away and letting her release the pent-up tensions of a raw heart and lonely, wounded spirit. Embraced her for who she was, both the good and bad, without reservation or judgment. She sobbed then, and let the Presence comfort her as she relived the pain of Brady’s death, the declaration of love left unfulfilled between them. He had asked her to marry him, she’d agreed, and they had made tender love in the night before he’d left on the mission that killed him. The senselessness of his death, which could have been prevented if his superior officer hadn’t been such an incompetent ass, had cracked her blind loyalty to the Marines she’d pledged herself to. When her enlistment was up, she had not renewed her contract, and took employment with RDA to ferry scientists to and from the base established on the moon Pandora. It kept her flying, which was all she had ever wanted, although they had ended up betraying her, too. Long before she’d ever betrayed them…
She remembered the Samson exploding, remembered yanking on her face mask as she fumbled open the release that would throw her free of the burning wreck. She hadn’t entirely escaped---she’d felt the flames eat up her legs and arms, catch in her hair. She’d screamed just as something cracked against her head, and she knew no more until the darkness was pierced by brilliant white light.
The Presence supplied other images, images of a bloody battle finally won, of her being caught and carried to her mossy bed by one of the Banshee-riders. His features were indistinct---he was the same tall, slender, toughly-muscled form as all the Na’vi with the long black braid down his back, though two shorter ones bound up the left side. She saw the celebration, saw the departure of the human ships, saw strange faces blurring in front of her. Norm Spellman, Dr. Max Patel, a few others---they stayed behind when the great ships left, carrying the rest of the humans away. She saw Jake Sully die, shrouded in the web-like tendrils of Eywa’s embrace, his eyes reopening in the avatar body that had become his in truth as his mate, Neytiri, embraced him. The tenderness between them sent a stab to her heart, and she wept as the joy-filled voices of the Na’vi rose around them in celebration and welcome.
She laughed then, joining their joy, and became one with it. One with them. And then the brilliance flared all around her, so bright she could not see for the longest time, so lost within it, and then she was blinking dry eyes open, wincing as a cool breeze touched her exposed skin.
“Troo-dee?”
The voice was strange, and yet oddly familiar. He said her name all wrong, pronouncing it in that slurred way the Na’vi did before she corrected them. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat felt so dry, and she coughed weakly, her fingers twitching but refusing to obey her. Painful tingles stung along her arms and legs as sensation returned to numbed extremities, and she clamped her lips on the whimper that threatened to escape. It came out as a hiss, and then she gasped, feeling air sting through her without the strange chemical mix she had always associated with exopacks. But she wasn’t wearing one, and that thought wrenched her awake as her hand flew up to touch her face in fear. She choked, but the air that came into her lungs didn’t burn her, and she tried to knuckle the sleep that clotted her lashes closed as long fingers covered hers, gently drawing her hand away with a casual strength.
“Peace, little one,” a huskily feminine voice told her, and Trudy ceased struggling as a wet cloth passed over her face, gently wiping away the dried gunk. She blinked, the blurred colors slowly forming into a face. A blue face, with leonine features and an unwavering, amber stare. Na’vi, one of the people of Pandora, though not one she recognized. It was a strong face, the exotic features of a flat nose and tufted, pointed ears mixing with the high cheekbones and strong jaw that made the feline face more humanoid. He wore two rings in each of his ears, which were pricked forward in interest, the bioluminescent markings across his cheeks adding an aqua freckling to his cyan-colored skin. Two short braids hung over his left temple and cheek, the rest in tighter, wiry braids that fell across his corded back and shoulders.
“Who are you?” she tried to ask, but it came out as a dry cough. Her tongue felt thick, and the need for water had her throat constricting.
“Here, give her this,” the husky voice instructed, and Trudy turned her eyes up, to see Mo’at smiling down at her, a cloth in one hand. Her world tilted, as the other Na’vi abruptly lifted her up so she could sit against him. He held a cup to her lips and she drank greedily, her hands coming up to hold the cup when he would take it from her.
“Drink slow,” he said, firmly pulling it away, “or you have sick.”
She nodded, and he let her have it back. She drew the wonderful ambrosia in carefully counted swallows, her survival training kicking back in. The simple act exhausted her, though, and she gratefully slumped against the Na’vi when she was done. He took the cup from her trembling fingers, and she let her hands fall to her sides with a wry grimace.
“Wha…What the hell happened?” she asked, her voice strangely hoarse to her ears. She felt incredibly itchy, dried out and exhausted, though, surprisingly, not at all hungry. She must look like an ATV Grinder ran over her. But more importantly, “And how the hell am I breathing?”
Which she was, unaided by any mask. Breathing Pandoran air, though it was lethal to humans. Mo’at chuckled, her eyes slitting in a Na’vi sign of amusement as she bared her teeth, exposing the sharp canines.
“And that, little sky-child, is by the blessing of Eywa.” The cat-woman made a sign of reverence, and Trudy whispered, “Mother of All…”
Mo’at smiled in true delight. “Ah, then She has claimed you as one of the People, Her own.”
“But…” Trudy stared down at her tan skin. She was no different then before, though she had lost a lot of weight. She realized suddenly she was completely, bare-ass naked. Heat rose to her face as she made an abortive gesture, trying to cover herself, but again her weakness betrayed her.
“You have sick? Your face change color.” The Na’vi she slumped against raised a concerned hand to cup her cheek, turning her head so he could look. A giant blue hand with only four digits that were twice the size of hers.
“It’s nothing,” she demurred, the heat rising as she stared up into his curious yellow eyes. Eyes that dominated his face, as they did every Na’vi, but were a darker amber than the light gold she was used to seeing. He looked doubtful, mistrusting her word, and she sighed for the cultural differences that always had to be explained. “I’m blushing. It happens when a human gets embarrassed or is ashamed.”
“You have shame? Why?” he demanded, and Trudy’s patience, always short, came to an end.
“Because I’m naked, idiot!” she snapped, and his ears flattened along both sides of his head as his eyes narrowed.
Mo’at noted with wry amusement, repeating it in both languages so that they could both understand, “Humans are more inhibited about showing their bodies than the People, Tse’yan.”
“Why? You are small, yes, but not ugly,” the Na’vi---Tsay Yann?---demanded.
“Gee, thanks,” Trudy grumbled. Tse’yan looked ready to argue, but they were interrupted by the arrival of more people. Or People, actually, as the Na’vi called themselves. Though Trudy was startled when Jake plucked her up off her butt and hugged her hard, his glad shout as he spun her around leaving her dizzy and faintly nauseous.
“Trudy! You’re alive! Oh my god, it’s good to see you!”
“Watch it there, jarhead! You don’t know your own strength,” she gasped as he swung her up a good four feet off the ground. Her eyes danced, and she grinned down at him, warmed by the boyish exuberance of his greeting. “It’s good to see you, too, you big lug.”
“Careful, Jake, she still needs to recover her strength,” Mo’at cautioned as Jake’s mate, the beautiful Neytiri, smiled over his shoulder. Jake gently set her back down on her feet, and Trudy would have wobbled right back on her ass if Tse’yan hadn’t quickly caught her by the shoulders. She grimaced at the need for his support, frustrated by her weakness, but she was distracted as more peopleapproached.
“Trudy!” Two short figures bounded up the mossy verge, and Norm would have hugged her, but stopped, his face going red as he saw her nudity. Dr. Max Patel’s eyes widened, his breath condensing behind the air mask he wore before they both carefully averted their gaze. Dr. Patel shrugged out of his lab coat, and Trudy gratefully took it. She shrugged it on, wrapping the coat around her despite Tse’yan’s fumbling help. She felt more herself now that she was somewhat covered, and Norm gave her a quick half-hug as Dr. Patel pumped her hand in greeting, though his excitement was for her lack of an air mask.
“But how is this possible? How are you breathing the atmosphere?” The keen interest in his eyes---the one a scientist gives a particular specimen he can’t wait to dissect---made Trudy inch away from him, though he was harmless enough.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked up at Mo’at, who only smiled serenely.
“It is Eywa’s gift to you, woman-child of the sky.”
“Looks like Eywa’s modified your body, soldier, so you can survive here,” Jake said with a disarming, toothy grin.
“Yours, too, Sully,” Trudy retorted, eying the nearly ten foot body that somehow fit the former Marine better than his human one had, paralyzed as it was.
“I’d like to do a full bio-scan.” Dr. Patel looked eager to start right now, and Norm laughed at Trudy’s alarmed expression.
“You’ll have to wait for her to clean herself up, doctor,” the blond man said, teasing her, “You positively reek, Chacon. How many weeks has it been since you took a shower?”
“Weeks?” Trudy sputtered, and Mo’at laid a light hand on her shoulder.
“Your injuries were grave, Trudy Chacon. It took time, even for the Great Mother, to heal you of them.”
Still, weeks had passed since her Samson had been shot down? But what of the battle, the humans, the Colonel---the memories came to her, then, of the images Eywa had shared with her, of the battle and the humans rounded up and sent home in ignoble defeat. She swayed with the sudden flood of information, and Tse’yan abruptly picked her up.
“We go wash,” he said firmly, cradling her to his chest like a child. She blinked over his shoulder, but he was already striding quickly away. She looked up at him, wondering if she should protest her abrupt abduction but he wasn’t even looking at her, but up at the sky. His voice rose in an undulating cry, and Trudy had to cover her face with her arms as the dust-ridden wind rose around them.
“Hey!” she protested, but Tse’yan ignored her to greet his Banshee, who chattered back at him. Shifting her over to one arm, her weight didn’t seem to bother the Na’vi as he hooked his queue into the Banshee’s trailing appendage and leapt to its back. Put out by his manhandling, Trudy demanded where they were going, and he only grinned down at her.
“To wash,” he said in his stilted English, and then her stomach rose up in her throat as the Banshee abruptly took off. She gasped, hating the helpless feeling of flying without being in control of a beast that swooped and dove so recklessly close to the trees. But the wind whipping her hair into her eyes felt so clean, the motions so free, that she wiggled around so she could look up and around her. Tse’yan’s hard arm was more secure than being belted inside her cockpit, and the aerial view of Pandora was so breathtakingly beautiful she let out a whoop as the Banshee arched up and over a giant tree branch, diving straight down in a way that left her laughing with delight as Tse’yan’s tall body easily swayed with the Banshee’s movements.
Now, this was flying!