Work Text:
There’s a copse of trees just on the fringes of Awa’atlu.
The Metkayina don’t go there- everything they need, they take from the sea- but Neteyam does. There’s a lot to love about the ocean and its people, but it isn’t home.
In a way, it’s nice.
Here, he isn’t the son of Toruk Makto. He isn’t the next Olo’eyktan, with all the pressure and responsibilities that come with it.
It’s an admission that makes him feel guilty- even if the only person he’s told is himself.
Neteyam stops walking; he’s not here for himself tonight.
There, sitting at the base of a tree, knees pulled to his chest, is the one who has him searching: his brother.
“I thought I might find you here.” Neteyam drops to the ground, folding his legs beneath him.
“What are you doing?” Lo’ak refuses to look at him, scowling at the dirt. “Go away.”
“Looking for you.” Neteyam ignores the sting of being brushed off. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s getting late.”
It’s already getting dark.
Lo’ak is quiet.
Across his face, his sanhi stand out like a smattering of stars, glowing faintly in the dark.
“Dad’s only angry because he was scared. You know that right?”
Lo’ak scoffs. “He’s always angry.”
“That’s not true.”
“Maybe for you,” Lo’ak shoots back. He wilts when he sees Neteyam’s stunned look, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away.
Neteyam sighs. “I know it wasn’t your idea to hunt outside the reef,” he presses, inching closer. He watches Lo’ak’s shoulders tighten. “So why did you take the blame for Aonung?”
“Dad told me to make peace.”
“Not like that. You know he didn’t mean it like that.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. Of course it matters, scxawng.” Neteyam nudges his shoulder, but Lo’ak swats him away. “Why wouldn’t it?” He tilts his head, inspecting his brother. There are still deep scratches across his brother’s back and arm. “Did the tsahik look at these?” He’s certain he already knows what the answer is going to be, but he asks anyway.
“I don’t need the tsahik.”
“Don’t be so stubborn. You don’t want them to get infected, do you?” But he understands Lo’ak’s reservations; the tsahik has made her skepticism clear from the day they stepped foot on Awa’atlu.
His brother and sister are too alien, too human, which isn’t fair because Neteyam shares the same blood: human and Na’vi in equal parts. But with no extra fingers and no hair growing above his eyes, he at least looks like a full Na’vi.
“Alright.” He’s not going to push it, though he can’t make the same promise for his parents. “At least ask Kiri to help you. She knows the best herbs. The ones that don’t sting.”
“Okay.” Lo’ak doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he looks tired. “Fine.”
“You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”
Considering how worked up Lo’ak had gotten over Aonung’s treatment of Kiri, Neteyam has trouble imagining what could have happened to change his mind.
“I don’t know. I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”
“That’s noble. But it doesn’t sound like you.”
It bothers him that whatever it is that happened out there, Lo’ak is unwilling to share it with him. He knows they’re close, but there are days when he wonders-
Only one year in age is between them, but sometimes that gap feels uncrossable.
Lo’ak is free from the burdens and responsibilities that rest on his shoulders as the future Olo’eyktan. But, at the same time, he bears their father’s judgement more harshly.
That gap has never felt so wide as it does now.
Lo’ak has never had difficulty speaking with him before. Why is he reluctant to do so now?
“Hey,” he tries. It feels like it’s been so long since they’ve talked like brothers. Really talked. “What’s going on?”
Lo’ak unfolds himself. Enough that he’s staring straight ahead instead of at the ground. When he speaks, it’s in hushed tones, even though there’s no one out here but the two of them. “You know why I agreed to go with him? Outside the reef?”
No. He doesn’t know.
“I said I didn’t want to go. I knew it was a bad idea. But then he said he must have the wrong brother.”
Neteyam blinks. Of all the things he thought he might possibly hear, this is not one of them. And, in the moment, he’s overwhelmed by how stupid it all is. He could have lost his brother over something so trivial. “So what are you saying? That it’s my fault?”
“No,” Lo’ak says miserably, drawing his legs up to his chest. He doesn’t elaborate.
“You shouldn’t have let him goad you.”
“I know,” Lo’ak snaps. “I know, okay? I don’t need a lecture from you. I already hear enough from Dad.”
Neteyam swallows his frustration. Lo’ak isn’t even the person he wants to be angry with right now. But that’s going to have to wait. “Fine.”
They settle into an uncomfortable silence.
Surprisingly, Lo’ak is the one who breaks it. “I met a Tulkun. I think we’re friends now.” For the first time since this conversation began, his face splits into a smile.
“What?”
The Tulkun have been mentioned before in conversation. Enough for him to know they matter. The Metkayina bond deeply with them, considering them their spiritual brothers and sisters. But they’re not supposed to have returned.
“I know it sounds crazy, but…”
Neteyam grabs his wrist. “No. Tell me about it. Were there more of them?”
“No. Just the one. There was an akula and… I thought I was going to die, my ilu was gone and my spear had broken, but then he was just there. He crushed it like it was nothing.”
Neteyam’s mind is spinning with this new information. He sits back against the tree, processing it.
What does he mean there had been an akula?
Neteyam has never seen one- he’s never gone out past the reef- but he’s seen their teeth. The Metkayina use them to craft their weapons.
He gets up, jaw set.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Aonung.”
Lo’ak scrambles to grab his wrist. “You can’t-” He looks- and sounds- alarmed.
“I can. He left you to that thing…” Neteyam yanks his wrist away.
“Please, Neteyam. Just leave it. He didn’t know the akula would be there.”
Something in his tone gives Neteyam pause. He doesn’t understand why Lo’ak- so quick to return insult and injury- is so desperate to let this lie.
“That doesn’t make it better. You could have drowned.”
Even without large predators, the ocean is still an unpredictable and deadly force. That’s been drilled into them since they came here. There are powerful waves and currents that can sweep you under and away in an instant if you’re not careful.
“We already talked. It’s fine. Really. Besides, it’s too late to do anything now.”
It’s not fine.
Neteyam wants to march back and make sure Aonung understands just how much it’s not fine.
But Lo’ak is right. It’s too late.
“Come on then.” He gestures with his head. The torches in the village have already started flickering to life. “We should start heading back.”