𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✶ 𝔍ake 𝔖ully

𝔒ne ∕ 𝔄natomy.

𝕾avage 𝕯aughter / 𝕵ake 𝕾ully

CHAPT ♯.        ００１.

❛ THESE  CHAINS   ARE
HEAVY  AND  THESE  WALLS
THAT  SURROUND  ME  CONFIDE
ME.                                                         ❜

it's just 𝔞natomy,      /       ♯. CHAPT
you're only half of me.                                   

                 LEYRA HAD ALWAYS WANTED MORE. All her life, there had been a sense of longing wherever she went. Nothing she experienced could be fleeting; she needed to feel it, experience it, completely and tremendously. When her feet touched the soil beneath them for the first time, she decided she needed more, and so she would always be found running out into the forest with mud covering all her body. When she first pulled herself up onto a branch, she decided she needed more, so she searched for the highest and most difficult trees to climb. When she threw her first punch, she decided she needed more, so she begun sticking up for herself more. Her first prank as payback, she decided she needed more. Her first ride on her Ikran, she needed more. It was a constant cycle of wanting, wanting, and wanting. Her heart was greedy, it ached to feel, and who was she to not succumb such desires?

                  Her lack of restraint had earned herself quite the standing in the Clan. Where a smart, obedient girl once stood, a reckless, wild now took her place 一 Where had Sweet Leyra gone? With all her giggles and kindness, with her caring heart and warm embraces? A lingering disappointment was shared throughout the Clan as a promising Na'vi, daughter of a mighty warrior, fell into a habit of rambunctiousness. None, however, was more disappointed than her father, a celebrated warrior of the Omatikaya.

                  Naran was a warrior, a born prodigy, destined for greatness. His presence was admired by the Clan 一 with all his bravery, loyalty and fierceness, all unwavering 一 he was mighty. But with him, he carried anger. His heart burnt with fury, and he made sure to let everybody know with each move he made. His eyes were always narrowed, criticizing, and his deep frown was unsettling, his displeasure louder than any sound he could make with just the downturn of his lips (a narrowed gaze and profound frown was always glued to his face). His shoulders pushed back, and chin held up high, Naran carried himself with power and authority. And each step he took, a wave of uneasiness followed. For with the admiration the Clan felt for him, there was an underlining sense of fear; Naran was, as stated, an angry man. And this anger was not an exception to anyone.