I closed my eyes and I saw everything 3/???
A huge thanks for following the idle adventures of our favorite Na'vi teenagers in my Avatar : The Way of Water fic! Also know that the amount of ship I see in the tags make me really happy. Here is more.
Including mangrove roots, a bead, and a bonding moment.
[Title after this song]
For a moment, the young Omaticaya was almost back in the high camp. Neteyam didn’t know how long he had lay there, lost in his flow of memories, but the Metkayina blue sky had turned into the wood-bark dusk. The village was now buzzing, getting ready for the evening – sharing the goods gathered in the reef or the jungle, reuniting with the family members spread through the island and the inlet during the day, telling each other what the day had been made of.
All the activities seemed so trivial to Neteyam. Didn’t they have anything more important to do? The Omaticaya had explored forests, discovered mountains, fought and overcome the Sky People. Why, of all the clans Pandora hosted, did his father choose such an uneventful place? Were the Sullys so weak that they should conceal themselves in the reaches of the world?
Neteyam clicked his tongue. The feeling was so familiar, and yet so frustrating. But he would comply. As he always did.
With a stretch, he went out of the marui. The salt in the air and on his skin tickled his senses. The distant crash of the waves along the atolls had cradled him to sleep. In a way, he was thankful for that. This everlasting lullaby was way more comforting than the rustling of the rainforest.
“I have been looking for you.”
He barely had the time to properly greet Aonung. The Mektayina threw something at him. Startled, Neteyam thanked his parents for sharpening his senses. He grasped the token effortlessly, and, between his thumb and his index, observed it in the setting sun.
“A bead?” he said, blankly.
“Well, a bet’s a bet,” Aonung argued. “Though you kind of let me win this round. We’re even now.”
Somehow, being even with Aonung had a nice ring to it. Neteyam gazed at the bead with open curiosity. The gem sure was small, and yet so neatly polished, so perfectly round. When he compared it to the beads in his hair, Neteyam could feel the objects shared but only the same name. For the simple beauty of the bead was far greater than any accessory the Omaticayas had ever come up with.
“Where do you find them?”
“Some mollusks hold them.”
“Inside their bodies? Like eggs?”
“Sort of.”
“But they’re no eggs.”
“You bet they’re not! I wouldn’t have offered you an egg.”
Neteyam laughed.
“I would’ve had to keep it.”
Then he added, playfully:
“A bet’s a bet.”
Aonung sighed, but laughed in turn.
“Next time, you’ll be the one fetching me a bead.”
“Well, you’d better teach me where I can find them first. Or you might as well wait for the ikran to bend!”
Neteyam regretted the analogy even before Aonung had frowned. He looked back at the sea as if the great stretch of water could be of any help. But it clearly didn’t know what an ikran was either.
“Ikran are the flying beats we arrived on. And they are a bit temperamental.”
“More or less than a tsurak?”
The picture of the long, many-razor-toothed mouth gliding menace froze Neteyam. Why did Eywa allow a creature so inappropriate, and yet so threatening to swim in the peaceful Pandoran sea?
His face must have sold the boy out, because Aonung burst into laughter.
“Well, mount an ilu first, we’ll see for your temperamental rides later.”
That being said, he took Neteyam by the shoulder, and led him towards the centre of the village.
“We have other plans for tonight, anyway.”
“More surprises?”
He had secured the bead in the palm of his hand, not knowing how to attach it to his braid. He should ask later, preferably to someone else than the giver. He didn't want to give Aonung another reason to witness how awkward he was.
“No,” Aonung mused. “Or maybe you will. I don’t know what will be said, and since you’re so easily moved, maybe some of it will surprise you.”
They climbed on an upper root, leading towards the gathering place like a bridge to society. Beneath them, txampaysye swam idly, as if a part of that communal ceremony as well. Aonung smiled:
“Two beads that you’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Three beads that it does not surprise me more than the tsurak mounting.”
Aonung elbowed him. Neteyam nudged him back.
“I still do not know where the beads lie.”
“Well, that’s entirely on you.”
“Four beads that you show me where I can find them.”
“Five that you beg me to.”
Neteyam gave him a half shocked, half mused look.
“Warriors don’t beg.”
“Warriors mount tsurak.”
“I do mount an ikran.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
They had reached the gathering place. It was a small inlet of sand trapped between the mangrove roots, apart from the beach and the docks. The Metkayina had spread in small groups, some families, others in their age-range. Neteyam looked for his parents, who should have not been difficult to spot, but Aonung didn’t give him the time.
“Whether you can mount your ikran or not doesn’t matter here. Because, here, you must follow the water way.”
Neteyam sighed. They were now walking across the sandbank, towards the jungle. And that piqued his curiosity much more than the Mektaniya spiritual advice.
“And what does the water way command me to do?”
He straightaway hated the Lo’ak tone that had just crossed his lips. Maybe he was spending too much time with his brother. Aonung must not have appreciated it either, for he stopped, a few feet away from a large group of Na’vi gathered in a respectful circle.
“To open your eyes and your ears.”