Just when he thought the load was getting the tiniest ounce lighter, it doubled down again as if it hadn't ever left. It felt like a
The wound was being ripped open again, revealing the tender, sore flesh below.
For a moment- actually, not just a moment, for quite a damn long time. He had allowed himself to think: maybe it won't hurt forever. Maybe, one day, he'll look back on it and, yes, he'll feel sad – he'll always feel sad about it, but-
Maybe it'll lessen a little? Maybe it will go from overwhelmingly suffocating and unbearable to a still-there-but-not-as-bad ache in his heart.
He was foolish to hope.
Lo'ak took his time with it, shuffling his stride as if he had all the time in the world. He kept his eyes on the sand, like it was the most fascinating specimen he's ever seen- to tell the truth, he hoped he'd be too preoccupied staring at it that he'd "accidentally" walk in the wrong direction.
Eventually, he had to turn and face the music. He'd been circling around it for the past few minutes. Literally, walking in misshaped circles around the general area.
He halted in his tracks and turned to face it full on. He drew a deep breath of air into his lungs, ignoring the tingly feeling of anxiety as it flitted and fluttered about in his stomach. He could do this, they are his family, after all. He lives with them every day- sees them, eats with them, converses and plays with them. This should be as mundane as breathing by now.
So why is he so scared?
The longer he stands there, the more his confidence begins to wane. His legs turn to jelly and he fears he'll just collapse into a heap of cowardice if he even dares to move an inch. He didn't even realize his hands were shaking until the contents of his closed fist were nearly sent plummeting to the ground.
He takes – yet another – deep breath, closes his eyes. I can do this, he reaffirms himself, willing his confidence levels to rise back up. He opens his eyes. Big mistake. The outline of his family's marui seems to grow in size and height, menacingly towering over him. He feels small- tiny and insignificant. He can't go in there, not when it's waiting to consume him.
He took a stumbling step back, panic flared in his belly. No… no, no, no, he can't do this. Its too painful, too risky. Sure, it's already been a year, but he doesn't want to go back there. To that dark, dark place. Back into the shadows.
But he'll have to soon enough.
He can't hide from his memory forever. Neteyam is everywhere. In everything. In the shade of the trees; down by the shore, in the splash of the shallow waves; in the curve of his mother's smile; as an actor in the memories of his old home. He sees him in the glint of his blade- he taught him to carve it; he sees him in the corner of the family marui- he had slept there before the shooting; he saw him in the ripples of the forest stream- where he first learned to fish.
His brother's memory is inevitable. He can't live in fear of it forever. And his parents are probably waiting for him inside.
He forces the anxious thoughts down before taking the first step. Then another. Then five more.
Before he knows it, he's standing in the doorway, staring into the void.
Its so… quiet. Despite the presence of five Na'vi and a human in the marui, not a sound permeates the thickened atmosphere. Somber expressions cloud their faces. The thick smell of paint spoils the air. Tuk sits on the floor, Neytiri working thick lines of white paint onto her blue skin. Sadness shines in their eyes. Jake sits a little way off, tying off some loose-ended ropes- his expression is empty, lost. Spider sits alone off in a corner, watching all the happenings go by.
Neytiri's face turn towards him. "You are late, ma'itan"
Lo'ak ducks his head, a muttered apology slipping past his lips. Neytiri just looks at him before turning away, exsanguinated of all energy to scold him.
On his way in, as founded custom of entry to the family home, he lifted his hand to brush it against Neteyam's songcord that hung by the doorway. He crossed the room, past his busied parents, to Spider, who sat alone in the corner.
"Hey bro" he mumbles. Spider murmured back a greeting. He dips a finger into the white paint and delves into the task of drawing the intricate markings on his comrade's torso.
Spider was saddened too. Neteyam was just as much a brother to him as any of the Sully siblings. They'd grown up together alongside him, just like he, Kiri and Tuk. Add to that the fact that his so called "father" was the one who committed the heinous act… Lo'ak could almost physically feelthe guilt eating away inside of him.
A few minutes later and all the family was ready. White paint blotting out their blue skin, a foggy despair killing the newly recovered joy in their eyes.
A heavy, crushing silence bore down on the party of six. Though it felt much less like a party. It felt like someone had taken a dagger and dug a hole into Lo'ak's heart. A deep, gaping, bleeding hole. He didn't think it was possible to feel this much pain without any physical wounds. In fact, it almost felt physical, the way it tore into his flesh, eating away at whatever remnants of joy he'd tried hard to culminate, creeping into his memories like a palulukan, sending him into a downwards spiral.
The five journeyed into the forest, the weight of their sorrows dragging at their steps. Rain sprinkled down from the sky, driving the prickling cold into their bones, further sapping all warmth from them, leaving them at the mercy of grief's icy, clawed grip.
Lo'ak kept his gaze on the ground. The way his toes squelched into the quickly muddying ground; the myriad of insects rushing to burrow into the dirt, seeking shelter from the rain; the many, many sticks and leaves and plant matter that mulched with the soil. Anything to keep his mind clean of those depressing, ever-present thoughts.
He could already feel them staring to creep in. Darkening the edges of his conscious like shadows following the approaching dusk. Thoughts of why? Pleas of 'why him? Why not me?' Contemplations of what if, what if, what if…
It filled his thoughts, dulling all the hopeful daylight like a dark, poisonous cloud. It pumped its toxic fumes into his brain, dark, black smoke that choked off all life and new growth until it withered to nothing.
This must be a mistake, please, please, please bring him back.
Why him? Why not me?
It's all my fault, why should he have to suffer for my mistakes.
Eywa, why?
It should've been me, I deserved it…
Before he knew it, tears came a-knocking, stinging at the corners of his eyes. Uninvited, unbidden.
He quickly, fiercely blinked them back, scrunching his face to make sure they got the message. He couldn't cry. Not anymore. Not when he'd cried enough to dehydrate himself back when the wounds were still brand new. If he started now, like a waterfall, he wouldn't be able to stop. Not for a long, long time.
The footsteps in front of him suddenly stopped. He halted his walk just in time to avoid bumping into Kiri. He looked over her shoulder and felt his stomach drop. They had arrived.
The scene in front of him would look like a normal pane of the forest at first glance- well, half a first glance.
There were trees- lots and lots of tall, thick trees. Not out of the ordinary for a forest.
In front of them was a section of bush, almost higher than they were tall. It conjured up the illusion of a thicket- compact and impenetrable and teeming with prickly thorns. The thick wall of green looked like a dead end. Perfectly according to plan.
Lo'ak watched as his father stepped forward and pushed a hand through the thicket. It sunk right through. A false wall, crafted for the specific purpose of tricking any prowling animals into walking right past it, unaware of what the eye could not perceive.
Once the curtain was pushed aside, the family shuffled on in.
Inside was a sort of hidden away grotto. Shaded and sheltered by a wall surrounding trees, the space felt secluded- protected. A little waterfall feature trickled into a clear, shallow pool off to the side. At the center of the whole thing, leaned up against a tree, was the subject of Lo'ak's imminent dread.
It wasn't commonplace for Na'vi to memorialize their dead- yes, they kept sentiment about them in the form of stories and songs, methods that were a lot less tangible than this. It was originally Jake's idea to create the site as a sort of living memory for Neteyam. A collection of memorabilia stashed away in the forest- comprised of some of his most treasured items.
Lo'ak swallowed the growing lump in his throat when his gaze fell upon a particular dagger, leaning off the side of the pile. Neteyam's trusted knife… He had carried it around with him all the time, so much so that it became synonymous with his presence. Wherever you were to see that, you would know he was there. It was almost as if- as if he was still alive. Having just set his weapon down to attend to something for a moment. It almost- very, very, nearly almost seemed like he would come back soon. Like he would just pop out from behind one of the trees and come join them, having slipped away for just a second. It was cruel- the way, even a year later, his heart lifted a bit at the sight of it- immeasurably cruel.
His flight visor, laying pristine as the last day he used it. The cummerbund – given to him upon the event of his first clean kill – folded up and resting against the trunk.
Into the bristly grass they settled down, legs crossed, postures drooping with wearying emotion. No one said a word in the first few minutes, no one knew what to say. The whip of the wind and sigh of the leaves stood in for conversation as the group fumbled in silence for words.
Slowly, hesitantly, the words started to trickle in. Tuk bubbled up first. A little account about some of the things that went on during their visit to the Omatikaya settlement. This set off the chain reaction. Others began to pipe up. Recalling little events. Then another. And another.
The vice of awkwardness soon melted away as the family shared beneath the dusk-colored sky. They spoke to him as if he were alive- as if he were seated, right there, among them, laughing and talking as they did.
The trees lent their ears to the voices rising into the breeze. Wildlife paid heed to their bittersweet recalling. They regaled the clearing with shared memories, both old and recently made. Dipping back into blissful reverie, sharing fun times and hard times. Much to his surprise, Lo'ak too contributed. Normally, he would blanch at the thought of remembering times with Neteyam- the guilt would swallow him alive.
Jokes were pulled, the occasional giggle burbled up to the surface. Some of the memories recalled made him laugh, others made him cry. But overall, it made him realize what an amazing brother he had- and what an amazing brother he'd lost.
Throughout the whole session, he couldn't help but think- no feel his brother's presence. Like he was really truly seated right there, right next to him. The feeling brought him some much needed comfort to knows that his big brother was still around- though he couldn't touch him or see him, he was there, watching from the shadows, ever looking out for his siblings.
The sky was beginning to darken above them. Eclipse would be making an appearance soon. As the sun began to close itself off to the world, the family decided to draw this little meeting to a close.
As a final closing act, Neytiri produced Neteyam's songcord from her satchel and began to sing.
Her voice is beautiful. Flowing smooth and seamless as the wind. It's the same voice that lulled him to sleep thousands of times when he was younger- but there's a palpable note of moroseness in the echo of every word.
Every bead strung onto Neteyam's songcord has a meaning- a verse in the song of his life story. His mother's singing transported him back to those moments, those precious, happy times. Times when they were young and nothing mattered except being the best at this or coming up first in a competition or training to be the best warrior the clan has ever seen.
Before they had to worry about getting shot full of ammunition. Before the sky people spoiled everything. Before the war…
By the end of it all, tears shimmered in their eyes. Despite that, they wore small smiles through their tears. The great weight they carried felt the smallest bit lighter- a miniscule difference, but it was still progress all the same.
Neteyam may be dead, but he would live on in the hearts and minds of those he was loved by. And as long as they each commemorated him, kept his story alive, he would live on as well.
When they left, Lo'ak felt as if a part of him were being left behind in that little grotto. He felt his brother's presence strongest when he was there, warm and comforting, watching after him- always looking out for him. Now the sea breeze felt cold against his skin, not as calming or inviting as before. The white paint had dried over and began to crack in some places, dusting an itchy discomfort all over his skin.
He scratched at his right arm as he walked, looking at nothing in particular. The sky was completely swathed in blackness. Eclipse was underway. Each step they took was illuminated by a bright pulse of color, bioluminescent fauna cast a glowing light against the forest background and the melodic chirp of insect signaled the arrival of nocturnal creatures- hurrying out of their shadowed hiding spots for a chance at a meal in this short window of darkness.
The trees began to thin out before them and Lo'ak caught glimpses of the flaming torches that lines the village landscape.
Movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention and he angled his head to the side, keeping one eye on the bushy trail and the other on the apparent culprit.
It seemed the drying paint was giving Tuk a hard time too. She had one arm out in front of her, the other reached across her chest to scratch at a line of paint that banded over her forearm. The scratching soon escalated to straight up clawing as it looked like his little sister way trying to dig out the source of the bothersome itch from beneath her skin. Her expression was scrunched up with discomfort as she scraped at the itchy spot on her small forearm.
Some type of itchy plant, perhaps? This forest was practically overflowing with them, and avoiding the torturously itchy rash it dished off on its unfortunate victims was a challenging feat.
Lo'ak wasn't the only one who noticed Tuktirey's fervent scratching.
Kiri was quick to stop the eight-year-old from possibly injuring herself. She grabbed her arm, holding it above and away from the other arm.
"Tuk, don't scratch yourself like that, you'll end up bleed-"
Tuk let out a melodramatic sigh, her expression morphing to a sulky pout.
"But it itchesss" she whined, drawing out the last syllable to emphasize her point. She physically deflated- drooping her shoulders and slouching her stance in a show of childish upset.
Kiri however, heard none of it. She was too busy, with quizzically narrowed eyes scanning the area Tuk had been scratching, a deep frown sagging her lips. Thinking his little sister did have a rash, Lo'ak leaned in closer to them, peaking over Kiri's shoulder to get a glimpse of the red, inflamed area.
"Is it bad?" he inquired from her, ears pricked up. He couldn't seem to get a glimpse of the skin affliction from where he stood. The bushy tangle that was Kiri's hair was blocking his line of sight.
Kiri did not answer him, just stayed where she was. Her posture had gone tense, the muscled in her shoulders and arms going rigid in their positions. Her ears had gone flat to her head, her tail tip flickered sporadically from side to side.
They had slowed to a stop by this point- Jake and Neytiri had pulled ahead by a little bit and now stood where they had stopped, calling out to their brood of children. Spider came around the other side, curiosity-filled gaze trying to scope out whatever had snatched Kiri's attention.
"Kiri?" the boy asked, reaching up to tap the taller girl on the shoulder.
Then suddenly, vehemently, she whirled around, causing the two boys to jump back in alarm. Her eyes wide with a kind of mortal fear that sent a chill down his back. She cruised past them, luging Tuk along by the arm- the younger letting out a yelp at the sudden startling jerk of her sister's movements.
"Mom- mom look at this!" her voice took on a panicky octave. Neytiri and Jake shared a concerned look – just as alarmed and confused as the rest of them – before the latter moved forwards to check out what had her daughter so frantic.
Once Neytiri was close enough, Kiri pointed a shaking hand at a random spot on Tuktirey's arm. Neytiri squinted for a moment, studying over the area, before she too stiffened. Lo'ak's alarm swelled suddenly when he saw her eyes widen in stricken, agonized dismay. Once his own gaze fell upon his little sister's arm, he too felt his heart plummet.
Situated on the eight-year-old's underarm, was the beginnings of a bruise- or what could be thought as a bruise, if not for what was currently going on in the Metkayina clan.
The affected area was uncomfortably inflamed, turning the blue skin to an ugly yellow. It swelled into a bulbous bump just below her elbow, the stretch tinging the surrounding flesh a squeamish vermillion.
Oh no…
Neytiri let out a wounded cry and threw herself at her youngest daughter, but was unable to take her into her arms as Jake held her back.
"Shit" the Na'vi man gasped, his brow folding with vexation as he studied his daughter's afflicted arm. "Back! Everybody get back!"
Spider and Lo'ak rapidly drew back from her as if she were a ticking time bomb, regarding their youngest sister with wide, disbelieving eyes. This couldn't be real. No, this wasn't real. They'd all been so careful with all the precautionary warnings and-. Lo'ak's heart began pounding in his chest, akin to the beat of a direhorse's hooves against the ground. His ears flattened and tail lashed with the sudden buildup of negative emotion inside him.
How could this be happening- and to little Tuk of all people?
Tuktirey looked all around her, head on a swivel a she took in the sight of her family- backing away from her, eyes bulged with fear and dismay. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession and her big yellow eyes scrunched up unhappily at the corners, the glimmer of unshed tears making them shine.
She took a step towards where the rest of the family clustered together. Neytiri's wails rang clear above the trees.
"Daddy?" her confused and frightened whimper made Lo'ak's heart shatter. He could do nothing put watch.
"It's- it's gonna be okay, sweetheart." Jake's arms were fanned out to his sides, keeping the rest of them from getting any closer to Tuk. The little girl let out a sob.
"It's okay" Jake's reassurances fell flat as the gravelly horrifying realization dawned on all of them. Like a bucket of cold water to the face. A shock. The three siblings could only stare, forlorn and dejected, at their sister. At her small, tear-streaked face.
"It's gonna be okay sweetheart, it's- you're gonna be fine, okay?" the comforting words were more for himself at this point- emotion wracked his voice and his eyes were beginning to moisten.
Na'vi Dictionary
Ma'itan – my son / Palulukan – thanator /