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eywa-eveng · 9 months

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ᴠᴏᴡs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪɴᴅ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴛᴏɴᴏᴡᴀʀɪ & ʀᴏɴᴀʟ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.8k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, hurt/comfort, slight nsfw

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – pregnancy, mentions of childbirth

A lorpaytsyal with its rows of shimmering fins swims past, stirring a cloud of syuratan that glitters like a burst of blue stars over the sun speckled sand. The shape of the white light bends to the pattern of the rippling waves, tracing out swirling shapes that break only in the shadows beneath the rows of coral. The polyps bloom in shades of purple, spindly limbs weaving together to form a canopy of darkness. Some pieces are broken, the cracked knobs revealing inner layers where something tore away the unwanted sprigs. The stony flesh of the coral has been cracked and shaped into a small alcove, just big enough to host a nest. A bed of stray lengths of seaweed and dead fragments of coral sit in the space hollowed out in the shadiest part of the sea floor. It’s lit with only the faintest glow of blue algae that’s dotted over the eggs nestled within the shallow burrow. Nestled in the shallow burrow are eggs, enough that a few going missing wouldn’t be enough to noticeably deplete the clutch.

Light warms the hidden recess as you swim closer, the txampaysye clinging to your back filling the dusky hollow with the light of a soft sunrise. The pale green shells take on hues of gentle yellow and warm pink as you pick over the mound of eggs. They’re small, no larger than your palm, and each is only the weight of a small stone. You’re careful as you sift through them. The shells are soft and pliable, the texture like skin as you press lightly against each one. Curious fingers trace over the weighted areas of the wrinkled shells, feeling the slightest silhouette of the sea snake growing within. The light of the gill mantle is just enough to pierce through the thin membrane to the veins lacing through the shell. Each occupied egg is set gently aside but every few are empty, unviable. The shells harden when there is no life to support inside it. Though there’s no way for the mother to know that so you’re quick about your work, checking and replacing the eggs before an angry snake comes threading through the net of coral branches. By the time you’ve picked over the entire nest you’re left with a bounty of six eggs that you tuck gratefully into the satchel slung across your chest.

It’s already heavy with other trinkets found during your exploration. Pearls in shades of blue and pink, shards of crystal smoothed over by the tide, and shells formed into delicate designs. The fabric of your pouch is nearly over encumbered as you tuck the last egg inside, leather ties straining as you tighten it closed. Sunlight traces across your skin as you swim away from the resettled nest, spears of light beginning to poke through the farther you get from the center of the coral hoard. The light of your tanhì flickers out as you emerge, sunlight swallowing the flecks of bioluminescence as it dances over your skin. Its warmth is lost in the coolness of the water as you swim, calling for your tsurak with a few throaty clicks. It takes time and a few more calls before the skimwing returns in its own time, darting through the forest of sea plants and schools of meandering fish to find you, though it doesn’t stop to allow you to mount as it rushes past. There’s a practiced ease to catching the handle of its saddle and tucking yourself against its back. Tsurak are known to be temperamental creatures, stubborn and selective with who they allow to bond with them.

It is only your own temperament that keeps your fieresome companion returning after hunting in the open ocean. Some mounts have been known to leave the village and never return, leaving their rider to find another mount to bond with. It’s a vague fear whenever you go beyond the bounds of the village. You are not a hunter despite your childhood training. There is no reason for you to be beyond the seawall if not for your own pleasure and your tsurak knows this, can feel it each time tsaheylu is made. Your curiosity and excitement sings through the bond. It should’ve been tampered years ago and likely left you without a willing mount but you’ve yet to allow expectations to dampen your indulgences. There is balance in your excursions. For every treasure you find there is something of utility. Bones to be made into needles and knives, healing plants that only grow in the deeper waters, fish that seem to favor areas beyond the village. You leave no room for reproach and so you’ve been allowed to continue to spend your days however you’d like, coming and going as you please unless something in the village demands your attention. Still you return while the sun is still high in the sky.

The terraces are crowded with people fishing as your tsurak leaps over the wall, beating its wings with a loud screech that draws eyes to your arrival. There’s no slowing even as the shore draws closer. Instead you simply loosen your grip and pull your tswin free of the bond, sinking into the water as your tsurak turns tail towards the open water once more. It leaves you in a cloud of frothy bubbles stirred by the rapid swing of its tail fins, unbothered by your distance from land. This is the way of things between you. Your chosen mount is bolder than most, hardly tampered by your own personality echoed through tsaheylu. It is a privilege to ride such creatures and it never lets you forget even after so many years of bonding.

Warmth kisses your cheeks as you surface for a breath before diving back into the water. The morning had been tiring, your palms and feet scuffed and sore from climbing along the jagged edges of the island cliffs. The shore isn’t so far off that you’ll tire before you can reach it yet you still roll to your back and allow your body to float on the gentle waves. A deep orange glow plays behind your eyelids as you close them against the bright light beaming overhead, the heat of it drying the drops of water from your exposed skin. Beneath the water, the lazy paddling of your tail is interrupted by a quick tug that shocks your eyes open, stinging your gaze with the white heat of the sun. It’s hardly frightening as you recognize the distinct feeling of fingers wrapped around your appendage, though it isn’t exactly a pleasant sort of shock. The white clouds seared into your eyes disappear as your secondary lids slide closed as you look beneath the water to see the one bold enough to snatch at your tail.

A sharp swing of your hips yanks you free of Tayku’s grip and he lets go willingly, raising his hands in a show of peace even as a roguish smile plays at his scarred lips. The boy is young–young enough to be your son–and yet he chases your tail as if it’s dipped in nectar. There’s an air of flirtation about him as he swims circles around you, the smug smile never leaving his face. His intentions are clear, as clear as your own answer has been. A terse rejection is what he and all your other suitors have received since this new season of courting began. It’s why you find yourself beyond the bounds of Awa’atlu more often than not in recent days. To avoid interactions such as these where the newly made men of the clan come nipping at your ankles, yapping about giving you strong sons.

It wouldn’t be so terrible if they were closer to your own age, if you hadn’t watched them grow up alongside your firstborn. Each of his life achievements you’d been there to see and now he’s pulling his tswin over his shoulder in a bold display of his intentions. It would almost be endearing if he was younger and didn’t yet know the weight of his words and what he is asking for. But he’s a man now, one of the People, and knows exactly what he’s asking for as he tilts his head and flashes his fangs. You watch him posture and boast in the water for a few moments longer before rolling your eyes hard enough to open your secondary lids and turn to swim towards the shore.

A brief surface for air gives Tayku a chance to swim beneath you and you nearly knock into him when you dive under again. He’s close, not so close that you can scold his overly familiar behavior, but just near enough that you can’t forget his presence. He clings close like a fish to the underside of a nalutsa, swimming with his face towards the surface and eyes on you. His distance is well-placed, just far enough to keep out of range of your annoyance. For all their simpering advances the young men don’t allow their infatuation to cloud their knowledge of your brash personality. This is the closest Tayku has gotten in all his advances and he still knows to keep out of your reach after inciting your temper with his childish grabbing. You’ve never been known to be particularly docile. If you were a fruit your skin would have thorns and your meat would be sour before it turned sweet, a delicacy only few people could enjoy despite the outwardly attractive look.

«I was looking for you earlier.» Tayku signs, perfectly timing his words to your sparing glances towards him. It isn’t interest that draws your eyes to him. You’re more curious to see if he’ll leave you be if he’s ignored, though it seems Tayku has taken your brief glances to mean more than they are. He must have because he doesn’t abandon the conversation even as you arrive at the village, pulling yourself on to one of the many overhanging paths without so much as a parting glance. He stutters for a moment as you whip your loose hair over your shoulder, pelting his face with stray drops of water.

“Where did you go today?” He asks after pushing his own damp hair away from his face, arm flexing purposefully. He’s harder to ignore outside of the water being the size that he is. Tall and wide, crowding your vision as he trots along beside you, uncaring of where you may be leading him. It hardly matters. The village is a place of finite spaces and he’s well aware of where your marui is. All of your suitors are if the gifts left outside your pod are any indication. Newly tanned fish leather, a carved box full of delicate beads, a freshly caught fish wrapped in thick leaves. There has been no shortage of anything in your home since the village welcomed its newest adults into the ranks.

It feels so strange to be spoiled in this way again after so many years. Your time for courting had come and gone with no mate to show for it. Your son was made from a humble request for a fertility match. A quiet meeting with the village elders and tsahìk praying that Eywa grant you the child you’d so desperately wanted despite your lack of a mate. It had taken some time but they found an auspicious match and you fell pregnant quickly after, still unmated but filled with new life. It’s just as well that the two of you forwent the forging of tsaheylu seeing as your child’s father went on to be named olo’eyktan soon after you fell pregnant. He was mated off to the chosen tsahìk as is tradition and you certainly didn’t have the knowledge to assume such an esteemed position.

The three of you became a true family, raising your children together as proper siblings despite their mixed parentage. And seeing Ronal pregnant again after so many years has raised the desire to be a mother within you once more. It was your mistake in making your intentions known to others because now you have men like Tayku trailing after you in the hopes that they’ll be the father of your next child. Never mind that they’re all nearly the same age as your first, some younger in fact. Far too young to be sniffing after you like a hunting nantang. You say as much but Tayku simply laughs, tossing his head back as if you’ve just told the funniest joke. He’s hardly being subtle in his advances. It’s nearly desperate how badly he wants to please you and yet he won’t indulge your greatest desire of being left alone to find a willing man on your accord. You’d been there for the first matchmaking and now know what to look for. An unestablished man is not something you are interested in at your age. If you are to share a parultsyìp with someone you’d rather they know their place among the clan.

Tonowari was beyond your expectations. The day the elders had collected you, and led you to a marui seldom used and sequestered within a particularly thick thatch of mangrove roots, you hadn’t known what to expect. Least of your wildest imaginings had been the clan’s finest warrior and chosen successor to the olo’eyktan. Everything that Tayku is even now in his youth is a single spark next to the open flame that Tonowari was when he was the same age. He’d been a few years your elder when you formally met, already covered in a multitude of scars and tattoos. Testamates to his prowess. It was your honor to give him his first child.

His arrangement with Ronal was to the benefit of the clan and you’d never begrudge them that. If not for the elders’ decision you would’ve been settled with less than the best the clan had to offer you. It hardly mattered that he was mated so soon after. And now, nothing would make you lower yourself to allow the first man that asks to father your next child. If you were to have another baby it would be with a man who had earned his place within the clan, not these boys that had only just come into their own.

“Did you find anything interesting today?” Despite your lack of answers Tayku keeps up a steady stream of chatter that sounds like bugs buzzing in your ear. He’s sweet and eager to please, and handsome despite the thick scar running through his lips. He will make a woman very happy someday. But not you. And you aren’t selfish enough to rein him in until you’re satisfied that he’s proven himself. That could take months or years and by that time he’d expect to mate fully for all the trouble you’d put him through. It wasn’t something you wanted.

Being tied so closely to someone has always held a bit of terror to someone like you, utterly uninterested in staying tied down. When you were younger you dreamed of exploring the ocean, of visiting with neighboring sea clans and learning their traditions. But now you have your son, you have your family. Even without a mate you’ve managed to halt any plans of leaving Awa’atlu for too long. Still your childish fear of being mated persists. It may be rare but mating bonds can go sour and without death to break it you’re left tied to someone your soul no longer desires. It makes you wonder if Tayku even realizes what he’s asking of you. He has heard that you want another child, yes, but he courts you as if he expects tsaheylu to be made. You’re little more than a stranger to him, the mother of his childhood friend. To be tied to you could be his nightmare but he can’t see past the opportunity to lay with a previously untouchable woman. The thought is dizzying.

“Don’t you have chores to attend to?” You ask at last, tiring of him shadowing your every move through the village. He raises his chin, grinning down at you, most likely elated that you’ve finally deigned to speak to him after his flaccid attempts at starting a conversation.

“I’m already finished. I went hunting early this morning and my catch was enough for the day.” He goes on about the two large fish he caught along with his regular bounty, enough to measure the haul of any other hunter still out fishing beyond the reef, caught within the first few hours of the day. “I wanted to bring you one but I couldn’t find you.” Just as well because you wouldn’t have accepted his gift. A fish as large as he says is far too sumptuous to hoard to yourself with only you and your family. It’s a lavish courting gift, one that anyone would be elated to receive, but it would be passed out of your hands just as quickly as it came, sent off to feed the village as it should.

“Do not feed me before the village. Your duties come before your indulgences.” It’s what you were always told when you were caught sneaking off somewhere but he blinks as if he’s never been scolded in the same way, his smile slipping for a moment. Your words are no harsher than they’d usually be but it seems they’ve finally started to break through the shell of adoration he’s formed around himself. Of all your aspiring mates he is one that has lasted the longest, clinging to even the thinnest thread of hope that you might one day share in his laughter or return a flirting remark. Instead you’ve remained steadfast in your rejection. In the days to come you can only hope he will fall away and shun you like the others, scorned and embarrassed by their own insistence that they’d be the exception. His mood only worsens, smile falling completely, when your son’s voice carries down the path towards the two of you.

Ketsräno stands with his brother at his side, both their faces drawn tight in a show of hostility. Ao’nung has his spear in hand, ears drawn back as he glowers at the man beside you. Tayku is closer to his age, an old playmate and friend that slowly fell away as his responsibilities expanded. It is easy to see why neither of your sons would be happy to find an old acquaintance lingering close to their mother.

“Ma Sempul is asking for you.” Ketsräno says, eyes not leaving Tayku’s face. A heaving sigh empties your lungs. Returning to the village has been one inconvenience strung after another like beads choked around your throat. It had been your hope to return home and go over all of the morning’s findings, but the wind has seen fit to blow you from one discomfort to the next. Tonowari is one of the people you’d least like to see today aside from these men flocking to you like hì’ikran over a dead fish. His sentiment towards you seems to have soured lately and you aren’t keen on subjecting yourself to his sullen mood. But the summons seem to keep Tayku at bay, at the very least. Any man with love for his life would be too afraid to follow you into the akula’s den Tonowari’s home has become in regards to you. Or perhaps he simply isn’t keen on testing your sons as they part to allow you past before meeting shoulder to shoulder once more, a clear sign for their old friend to keep his distance.

They’re fiercely protective of both you and Ronal. It’s your hope that you’ll find the tsahìk at home beside her husband but there is no such grace upon your arrival. The marui is deserted save for the olo’eyktan sitting just inside the entrance whittling away at a piece of gnarled driftwood.

A glance at the sun still sitting at its peak in the sky tells you none of your children will be joining their father for many hours to come. Tsireya will be teaching the village children, and Ao’nung and Ketsräno will likely have returned to their own chores. If Eywa is kind Ronal might return to relieve some of the tension already beginning to fill the home. Emotional discord incites her temper. As tsahìk she empathizes in a way that runs far deeper than anyone else and the labor on her soul is nearly exhausting at times. Her tolerance for such things in her own home has dwindled to nothingness with her pregnancy. If your silent prayers are heard Ronal will return shortly and send you away before Tonowari can finish saying his piece. Because he seems to be in no rush to speak to you despite asking for you as wood shavings gather at his feet. It must be his expectation that you’ll speak first, a trap for him to find something to pick at you for. You tighten your satchel over your chest and hope he won’t ask about its contents as you go about making a purposeful formal greeting.

“Oel ngati kameie, olo’eyktan.” You bow far lower than necessary and watch Tonowari’s lip twitch with displeasure. “Your son said that you were looking for me. How may I be of service, nawmtu?” It’s a thinly veiled dig and he knows it. There’s no reason for such formalities between the two of you. You may not be his mate but he is still the father of your child and that affords you some privileges when it comes to speaking with him. Purposefully invoking formal speech is a slight against him, as if he is a stranger to you, a clan leader and nothing more. At last he sets aside the wood he’s carved into a lethal point and sheathes his knife, standing to his full height. His jaw is set, muscles flicking beneath the ink of his tattoos.

“‘Nawmtu?’” His tone is curt, brows knit tight as he stares down at you.

“Have I said something wrong?” He nods with soured understanding at your coy question, clearly not pleased with your sudden lack of sense. He stands aside and nods for you to enter and you bow in thanks despite having entered his home many times with no permission needed. This is the place your son was raised, of course you have long since been given leave to come and go as you please. And yet you stand just inside the entrance, feet not moving a step further until Tonowari pulls the covering shut to be sure your meeting won’t be disturbed. Any hope of Ronal coming to dissuade her mate’s brewing anger is dissipated with the closing of the curtain.

Without the uncovered entrance the marui has gone somewhat dark, only the faintest light filtering through the blue membrane woven into the curved wall. It’s not so dark that you can’t see but just dim enough that Tonowari’s tanhì have come to life. Anxiety curls in your stomach like stinging tendrils. What had you done to make him so upset with you that he wants no one to stumble upon this conversation? Many nights have been wasted worrying over what could’ve made him turn so cold towards you in recent times, and many more days were lost returning the bitter feelings he has given you. The love you thought you had for each other has withered on the vine, leaving only this angry awkwardness in its wake. At least Ronal is still kind, still loving, albeit more distant than before.

If he will not speak on it you will not ask. So the two of you stand in the dusky room, eyeing each other with no words to say. He has called you here. If he wants to speak you’ll hear him, but it won’t be your voice that sparks the embers simmering between you.

“Sit.” He says at last. His voice is stripped of any emotion. There’s only the blunt command of a man above your rank. Your knees find the woven floor and your teeth nip at your lip, biting near to bursting to keep your less than polite remarks at bay. It’s clear his patience with your attitude has thinned beyond salvaging. It feels as if you’re a child at your parent’s feet, waiting to be scolded for unruly behavior despite your age. You’ve aged far beyond reproach, but no matter your relations Tonowari is still olo’eyktan.

“There are no eyes but mine to see you now, so let this song and dance be finished.” He expects that your attitude will dissipate because he asked it of you? After weeks of animosity he wants to call off your ire with only a few words. Not even an apology for forcing you to anger. It’s almost insulting how sure he seems of your complacency. He walks to sit behind you and you flinch at the feeling of his hand brushing behind your ear. First one then the other as he removes the dried fish fins you weave into your hair. The style is reminiscent of how forest Na’vi adorn their hair with feathers, though it’s a rarer style to find in Awa’atlu. Still, in recent times you’ve noticed younger women beginning to favor your hair ornaments and clothing. Likely in the hopes of catching one of the men trying their hardest to court you. The thought of Tayku and the rest willfully ignoring girls that would happily be courted only further sours your mood and distracts you enough that Tonowari’s hand brushing against the nape of your neck startles you.

“What is on your mind that you’re so distant from me?” His voice rolls like thunder through the dark pod as he begins to comb through your hair, carefully unwinding any tangles he finds. So it’s you that wedged this distance between you? It also must have been you that started this battle of poorly concealed anger. How can you be faulted for your distance when it was he who first sent you away with his sudden lack of kindness?

“Where is Ronal?” It is not what you mean to say but it’s the only thought plaguing your mind aside from the resentment festering in your heart.

“Ronal?” He seems taken aback. “I’ve called you here and you are thinking of her? How far your heart has gone from me.”

“It isn’t me who put this distance between us.” You say bitterly. It is not your place to be faulted for his own lack of accountability.

“No?” He doesn’t sound convinced. If anything he sounds more incensed than he had been before. “I’ve been hearing things recently, talk among the People.”

“There is always talk in the village.” It’s how days are passed. Idle chatting about small squabbles and other petty drama between people. Family rivalries persist through generations, childhood rifts persist through the years, age old stories are told to warn younglings against the mistakes of the past. Talk never ceases, it rolls in and out like the tide, constantly renewing with more things to whisper and laugh over while cooking or fishing. The elders of the village are far more intune with the business of everyone else, but it isn’t so surprising that things have gotten back to Tonowari. It is his job to keep the clan in harmony and he can’t do that if he allows conflicts to fester without at least a small acknowledgement.

“Yes, there is always talk, but very seldom does it involve your name.”

“But it isn’t surprising if it does.” Whatever gossip has spread with your name linked to it can hardly be of consequence. “Is someone questioning my abilities as a tattooist? I’ve heard Wepxtil has gotten better at his craft as of late. If he wants to spread word that his abilities have eclipsed mine I don’t care enough to stop him.” You’re one of the most renowned tattooists in the clan and many people carry your marks on their skin. The elders have said that hands like yours are only born once every few generations. If someone wants to question your abilities they’ll simply have to ask Eywa why she has blessed you so graciously.

“It isn’t about your tattoos. No one would believe that someone that just passed his rites could rival your abilities. It is about other names that have been spoken in the same breath as yours. Rumors of your future.”

“Speak clearly then.” You’re growing tired of his words swimming in circles.

“There is talk of you wanting another child.” He says it as if he’s swallowed poison, like the words sting his tongue as he speaks.

“Is that all? It is the truth. I want another child. Ketsräno is a man now. He doesn’t need his mothers to dote on him as Ronal and I used to. My nest will be empty once he finds a mate. I want a new baby to love. Seeing Ronal pregnant again has made me miss motherhood. She looks so happy. I’m jealous.” The last part is said in jest as an attempt to lighten the heaviness in the air. You could never be jealous of Ronal. She is strong and beautiful, yes, but she is your equal in family matters. Your hearts share a bond that is deeper than simple friendship. Her children are yours in all but blood. You’ve raised them as your own just as she has raised your son. There is only love between you. Or there had been before this sudden rift. Tonowari doesn’t seem to hear the joke in your voice. His hands fall still in your hair.

“Jealous?”

“Not truly.” You rush, trying to keep the exasperation from your voice. “I only meant that seeing her pregnant again has brought back cherished memories. I’m not too old to have another. I would like to have at least one more.”

“So it’s true. You want another child.”

“Why are you treating this as if it is a problem? I expected that you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy?” His anger bubbles over at last. His hands fall away from their idle combing and he stands to pace, tail strained tight with tension. “How can I find happiness when you try to keep this from me? I didn’t hear these words from your own mouth, I had to hear them from others.”

“I hadn’t thought it mattered to tell you. I was going to see about any unmated men of the clan that showed interest before asking for another match from the elders. Though I suppose I should’ve gone to the elders as I had before, or at least asked Ronal of her opinion. Trying to find a match myself has been like catching fish in a torn net.” Which is to say it has been a failure, time and time again. The men your age had overlooked you once before or you turned away their offers of courtship for one reason or another. In the years since Ketsräno’s birth your options have only continued to dwindle. Now it feels as if you’re trying to reap crops from infertile land.

“You still have not mentioned speaking to me about this.”

“What need would I have of your advice? I respect your word, of course, but fertility matches are matters for tsahìk and the elders. Olo’eyktan was not needed for my last match.” His insistence surprises you. Tonowari has been a strong and magnanimous leader since he was named olo’eyktan but he has always known his place, deferring to Ronal and consulting with village elders on things that were beyond his years of wisdom. Never have you known him to dip his hand into things that were of no concern to his position. He shifts to kneel before you, body moving with the tight precision of a bow being drawn. Tension has gathered on his shoulders beneath his mantle of akula teeth.

“What need?” He tilts his head in a way you recognize, ears quirking upwards in interest as he assumes the tone he’d always use when the children asked him a simple question. It was slow and understanding of their lack of knowledge. For him to turn it on you as if you know nothing of what you speak about is patronizing. At last your distaste can’t be quelled and your lips pull back to show the points of your teeth. Instead of heeding the obvious show of hostility Tonowari laughs. It’s short and humorless but a chuckle nonetheless.

Heat flashes across your cheeks, down your neck, and up your ears as they pull tight against your head. The loud hiss that accompanies the burst of hot embarrassment is perhaps the first you’ve ever directed at Tonowari. There’s never been a need to snap at him aside from a few dissatisfied scoffs when his words are just a touch too cruel when the children have misbehaved, though you’re admittedly the least strict of the three of you. Still it’s well deserved now as he treats you as if you’re a child for not confiding in him something that was none of his concern. Perhaps you might’ve told him when you found a match as you would’ve everyone else close to you, but now, before decisions have been made? He has no part in it.

You draw in a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your chest. “Apologize. Now.”

“You want an apology?” His tone isn’t as cruel now. Instead he sounds disbelieving as if demanding anything of him is beyond what he expected of your audacity.

“Yes, I want an apology. You’ve been speaking to me with such disdain as if I’ve done something wrong for making a change in my life! It hasn’t even come to pass and here you are shaming me for going about it in a way that doesn’t suit your tastes. Apologize and tell me plainly what you want to say. I can’t know your mind if you do not share it with me.” The two of you are not mates, you do not share the deep emotional bond that forms when tsaheylu is made. Perhaps Ronal as tsahìk and his mate could parse what has been eating at his spirit but you aren’t so enlightened to his deepest thoughts. If he has something weighing on his mind the only way to share it is through words. Not this callous critiquing and avoiding he’s taken to.

Tonowari sits back on his heels, no longer leaning towards you as he seems to mull over your words. His eyes linger on your face as if he’s trying to trace the shape of your pil with his gaze. It would almost be disheartening, his silence, if you didn’t know him to be a man of carefully considered words. In all things he is calm and collected. Striking only when a target is within reach and speaking only when he’s sure of his words.

“I’m disappointed.” He says at last.

“Disappointed?” Your voice is pitched with disbelief. “Because I want an apology after the way you’ve been treating me?”

“Because you can’t seem to imagine why I would want to be told about this.” He still doesn’t sound angry. He rarely is. But he truly does sound incredulous as his lips pinch together to stave off the smile curling at the corners of his mouth. If he’d been truly upset before, the feeling has passed like a storm. Now he seems amused as he watches you work through your thoughts. He’s speaking in riddles, words tied into knots for you to try to unravel.

“Is this because of Ketsräno?” At last a gentler expression finds the olo’eyktan’s face.

“In part, yes, this is because of our son.” The way he says it is more possessive than you’ve ever known him to be. Our son. A reminder that the two of you will always be intrinsically linked no matter the paths you choose to walk. Still, you can’t fully understand his meaning.

“What about our son? I have no interest in any of his old friends that have been fawning over me if that is your worry.”

He frowns. “They should not be trying to court you.”

“I’ve made my disinterest known but they’re rather persistent. It’s almost insulting that they think I would entertain their advances even for a moment.”

“I agree, they’re reaching far beyond their place. But it would stop if you made your choice. I can be of assistance if you would only let me.”

“Then who would you suggest?” He seems taken about by your requests for a name as if he hadn’t just offered his insight in the matter. When you say nothing more he nods slowly as if he’s made a decision he doesn’t wish to share.

“If you don’t know then I don’t wish to speak of it any longer. Clearly our hearts aren’t as closely aligned as I once thought we were.” He decides.

“If you don’t wish to speak then I’ll leave. No sense in us sitting here exchanging barbs. You won’t tell me what you truly want to say and I’m not going to force it from you. It’s clear neither of us are in a place to speak kindly with one another.” He stands as you do, and for a moment you expect him to stand in your way. He doesn’t but seems to think better of it as his hand catches your shoulder before you can push the covering aside. With the petulance of a child you wrench your shoulder free of his hand only to tear your satchel as the overencumbered fabric finally gives way under the harsh movement. Crystals, shells, pearls, and eggs spill over the floor, leaving a glittering heap at your feet. For a moment you simply stand there, not even looking down to acknowledge the mess that’s been made of your collection. When at last you look down Tonowari is already there collecting what he can into his hands, pausing when he picks up one of the eggs. He stands, staring at the small egg in his palm.

“How many times have I asked you to stay out of their nests?” He asks slowly, fist curling around the hardened shell. It won’t burst as a fertile egg would but there’s a fear that his hold will be enough to shatter it as his knuckles begin to pale with the tightness of his grip. You ignore him and gather what you can in your hands, fully intending to leave without another word. He doesn’t allow you. Instead he lifts your chin with a gentle hand, blue eyes burning into yours.

“You never listen.” He says softly. “What if you’d been hurt?”

“I wasn’t. I am not a child. I can take care of myself.” You say hotly despite the common knowledge that the ocean holds beauty and danger in equal parts. On another day you might’ve heeded his words as a gentle reminder to take care of yourself and not sprint into danger, but today you only hear incessant insults.

“You’re acting like a child.” He snaps, anger finally rushing forward. You scoff, stepping back away from his touch. With your salvaged treasures held tight to your chest you turn to leave. He calls after you, drawing eyes to watch you stride purposefully away from him. Here is more kindle for their fire. How the rumors will grow with whispers of strife between you and Tonowari. No one but your family has seen the growing tensions between the two of you and now it’s laid bare for all to see. The prying eyes allow you the courtesy of pretending not to see either of you as he storms back inside, not bothering to follow you. His stubbornness is a blessing as you retreat home with all the dignity of a finless fish.

What has changed? What has gone so wrong that Tonowari seems perturbed by your every decision. The first instances of his more callous attitude trace back to when you’d idly mentioned having another child while fishing in the terraces. The seawall has always been a breeding pool for village gossip and it doesn’t surprise you that rumors have sprung up like flowers in the wake of your thoughtless banter. He must’ve hoarded the knowledge to himself, let it poison his every thought of you until it all came rushing forward at once.

There’s a braided band of flowers waiting just outside the marui when you return home and you nudge it inside with your foot, quickly drawing your own coverings to properly wallow in your thoughts by your lonesome. The treasures you salvaged from the floor are dumped unceremoniously into a basket. Some had gotten left behind but you don’t even want to look at what you’d managed to save. Instead you focus on cooking. Lighting a fire and gathering ingredients to keep your mind from wandering.

Ketsräno doesn’t come home even when the evening deepens to night. It isn’t anything out of the ordinary, him not joining you to eat. Most meals are taken in communal eating areas or with the entire family. It is you that hasn’t been where you’re expected to be of late, the shared hostility driving you away from the simple comforts of a family meal. Instead you eat in silence, watching the dying embers of the cookfire. The night isn’t quite deep enough to sleep but you’re exhausted both physically and mentally.

Tomorrow will be spent close to home, perhaps sequestered away just as you are now, with chores that keep you away from anyone else. Leaving home would mean facing your foolhardy suitors and disgruntled olo’eyktan. Neither sound appealing as you go about straightening the marui in the fading firelight before unfurling your bedroll, keen to be done with the day. You’ve only just laid down when someone enters the pod. Expecting that it’s your son returning from his meal, you simply roll away from the light coming through the parted covering, intent on falling asleep as quickly as possible. The blue light of Naranawm disappears just as quickly as it appears in the corner of your eye as the curtain is drawn once more. When no word of a greeting comes you know it isn’t your son. After a moment the marui swells with flickering light despite your groaning protests.

“I am sleeping.” You complain, pulling the dark curls of your hair across your eyes in a vain attempt to shun the low light now filling your home.

“Not deeply enough to stop you from speaking.” Ronal tuts. “I come to comfort you and you can’t spare me a single look?” Of course it’s her that has come for an unannounced visit. Where was she when you needed her earlier to help mitigate her mate’s bitter attitude?

“What do you want, Ronal?” You sigh, finally sitting up to look at her. You needed her with you before, now you shun her presence as she stands beside the shell torch she’s lit with the forgotten wreath of flowers in her hand. It sets her hair alight with a wash of amber light that plays across the thick waves, green eyes paling in the orange light as she scowls at the gift. Distasteful fingers pluck at the flowers before she tosses it down. More petals fall when it lands but she hardly seems interested in the mess she’s made of one of your courting gifts. Truthfully, don’t want that gift or any of the others but there was still work that went into crafting it for you. Maybe you’d kicked it earlier but it deserves better treatment than being torn at by Ronal’s judging fingers. The gift and the boy that left it for you deserve better than your scorn.

“I want you to be rid of your anger, firstly.” She frowns. “I’ve only just arrived. You have no reason to be upset with me. If you have anger you’d better dispel it before you decide to turn that venomous tongue against me.”

In most things you and the tsahìk are perfectly matched. That includes a shared propensity for sharp retorts, though Ronal seems to keep her brashness reserved for you in specific. Perhaps because you’re the only one that won’t startle at her blunt responses. Her tongue is sharp as an arrowhead when she means it to be and she won’t spare you from a verbal sparring match if you provoke her. She’s likely to trade jabs with you long into the night if you think to turn your dour mood against her. Though she’s stirred your irritation simply by coming to disturb your peace when it was clear from the shut covering that you want to be left alone for the night.

You stifle another sigh, letting the anger rush away from you in a deep exhale. “I’m sorry. Did you want something?”

“I want nothing, it’s you that wants something. Another child, I’ve heard.” It isn’t a question. She means to tell you she already knows what it is that’s upset you and that she’s here to rectify the situation. She and Tonowari must’ve had time to themselves before the children returned home for the night. Ronal wouldn’t dare to raise such a topic of conversation where their ears could hear of their parents’ quarreling, though this goes far beyond the typical spats shared throughout the years. This will set a rift between the three of you that might never be bridged or mended.

“I do,” your tone is careful, “though it seems my desire has disappointed everyone.” Ronal turns towards you with a swiftness, long skirt twirling around her legs as she snaps at you.

“Skxawng. Sometimes I think you are willfully wrong.” The heel of her hand thumps your temple when you stand, as if she’s expecting something to rattle loose inside your head. All it earns her is a warning oìsss as you smack her hand away, temper flaring once more.

“Is it my lack of sense or everyone’s lack of explanation?” I snap. “Everyone seems upset but no one will tell me why. May the Great Mother guide me because I do not know what to do anymore.”

“Ask.” She says it as if you’ve yet to think of such a solution.

“Ask? That is all?” She stares patiently, emptily. Enough to draw a scowl to your lips. “Alright, Ronal, what do you suggest I do?” Her ear twitches at your sardonic tone but she seems to accept your words as a genuine plea for help. And it is, because you’re desperate to return your life to some semblance of peace. To do away with the pesky suitors and despondent looks from those around you.

“You are asking for a fertility match?” This is hardly the formal environment in which you first kneeled before the previous tsahìk and passed on elders all those years ago, but Ronal is still tsahìk and she can make a ruling on the matter despite the lax environment. When you confirm your wish she hums.

“I have already chosen someone suitable for you, if you’ll have him.”

You’re hardly convinced. “Who?”

“Tonowari.” She says easily. Your heart turns to stone in your chest, the weight of it dropping to your stomach. A flash of something cold prickles across your skin like an ocean spray as humiliation warms your cheeks.

“Don’t mock me!” For a moment you truly thought that she had come to offer her guidance as tsahìk but even now she is clearly teasing, trying to further incite your ire. What had you done that both of the people you hold dearest seek to toy with you in this way. A prickling heat rises behind your eyes as tears begin to blur the edges of your vision. All these years of love and compassion and they’re tossing it aside to tease you for daring to want something more in this life. Ketsräno is all you have that is truly yours and even he is shared with his father. Soon he’ll slip between your fingers, passed from one hand to another as he makes his own path and finds his rightful place among the clan. Is it such an awful thing that you want to go through the journey again? Raising your son has been your greatest honor, more than any glory you’ve received within the clan. You were meant to be a mother and they’re mocking you for it.

“Get out.” Ronal seems surprised, ears flicking upward as her brows rise in disbelief. “Get out!”

“No.” She sounds astonished that you’d ask her to leave.

“Leave! Get out and leave me be!” You aren’t shouting, not yet, mindful that the woven walls aren’t thick enough to trap your voice inside if you speak too loud.

“Mawey, paskalin.” The term of endearment is hardly mollifying but you gather yourself even so. Anger has turned to sadness and all you want is to be left alone. By Ronal, by Tayku. Everyone. The chaffed heels of your hands are rough against your cheeks as you dry your tears. Ronal pulls your hands away from your face to lead you to your bedroll, pulling you down to sit in front her. Slowly she releases your hands in favor of holding your face. Her thumbs are soft as they brush away the stray tears still beading in your eyes.

“Ease your storm.” Her voice is low as a roll of thunder though you can’t decide if the rain is coming or going. Going it would seem, as she holds your face like a precious stone between her hands.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Why have you lost faith in us?” Us. As if Tonowari didn’t look to be cursing your name the last you saw him. You left him. Walked away without a second glance as if he meant nothing. A bridge has two sides and both of you have burned them in turn.

“You have been hurting me at every turn in recent days. Where were you earlier? Surely you knew Tonowari was going to express his anger eventually and you left me with him to drown. At least if you had come to send me away I wouldn’t be so upset now.”

“So it is my fault that Tonowari wished to tell you his feelings? He is a grown man–your olo’eyktan and father of your son–if he wants to air his grievances with you, that is no business of mine. Do not put the blame on me for his actions.”

“The same way you aren’t blaming me? Because it certainly feels like there is no one else in the world you’d rather snap at than me. What bond can we have if it frays so easily? Son or not, there is no us. Both of you have made that plain to see. There is me and then there’s you and Tonowari. I regret that I spent so long thinking otherwise.”

Ronal tilts her head impatiently. “You don��t believe that.”

“No? Why shouldn’t I when all either of you has done for the past weeks is belittle and mock me for something you would never begrudge another woman? Tonowari acts as though I am stupid for not knowing what he won’t say and doing as I please. And now you’re here to tell me I’m wrong, too. I don’t want to hear it anymore, so, please, leave. Leave so we can move on from this. You are still tsahìk. I will always respect you as such but right now I’m not certain my heart can take being so close to you.”

Ronal looks as though you’ve struck her across the face, green eyes growing wider with each passing word. For a moment you expect her to stand and storm out, to go back to her home and her family and be done with you as you’ve requested. Instead she sits in silence. Her face is guarded as you try to read her thoughts through the subtle shifting of her muscles. The firelight doesn’t help as it throws shifting shadows over the shape of her face, hollowing her cheeks one moment and darkening her eyes the next. When at last she speaks her voice is doleful,

“We’ve hurt you. It was never our intention and it pains my heart to know your hurt was done by my own hand.” She won’t cry, she’s too resolute for that, but the upset is evident in her voice. “But, you’ve hurt us, too.” Perhaps you have caused them grief lashing out the way you have but it doesn’t absolve them of anything. Biting the hand that stabbed you doesn’t heal your own wounds.

“We’ve become clouded so let me say this and clear the air; Tonowari and I have given our souls to each other as mates. Before Eywa, tsaheylu was made. This is known.” You nod, unsure of what she’s trying to say.

“A mating bond is made by choice. A choice you have decided to never make. We know this. But it is not the only way to be bound to someone. There are vows and oaths, bonds made through words and actions. And you made that bond when you didn’t estrange Tonowari from his son, when you allowed me to raise Ketsräno with you. A fertility match is usually forgotten when one partner finds a mate, but you felt no such need to shun us or hide yourself away. You stayed by our side from the moment you were matched.” Her hand brushes the edge of your shoulder as she reaches behind you to draw your tswin forward. Her fingers are gentle as they trace the weave of your hair wrapped tight around the sensitive nerves within.

“Your first tsaheylu is with your mother.” She’s suddenly quieter, eyes distant as she winds your thick braid between careful fingers. “I remember when Ketsräno was born. You were tired but you smiled brighter than I’d ever seen as you held your son and made the first bond, and you didn’t rest until you’d seen Tonowari and I bond with him, as well. I thought from that moment on we all acknowledged our place in each others’ hearts.”

The day is one you will remember for the rest of your life. Ketsräno had come early in the day, just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. Most of the night had been spent warring against the pain in the shallows, squeezing tight to Tonowari’s hands as he held you and Ronal tended to what he couldn’t. It had been only the three of you and your spirit sister until you were far enough to call the clan to witness the birth of a new life. Your cheeks were sticky with tears by the time Ketsräno came at last into the pink light of dawn, legs kicking to the surface as he made easy work of his First Breath. There was the usual whooping and cheering but you didn’t truly hear any of it, far too enamored with your little son.

It was a moment meant to be shared with the clan but all that mattered to you was the family gathered around you. There was exhaustion and blinding happiness filling your head and then the gentle thrum of Ketsräno’s vitra as you made the first tsaheylu. There hadn’t been a thought in your mind in regards to what allowing Tonowari and Ronal to bond with Ketsräno would mean, and now you are dealing with the consequences of your addled decisions so many years later. In that moment you had treated the olo’eyktan and tsahìk as your mates and continued every moment after. You don’t regret it, not for a moment, but you loathe your own ignorance. Tears begin to burn anew in your eyes as you recognize your mistake.

“I’m sorry.” Over one misunderstanding you had nearly burned your world to the ground. “I’m sorry, Ronal.”

“Hear me now, paskalin. Listen well because I don’t want to have to repeat this ever again.” Her tone is strict but not without her own stern sort of affection. “Oel ngati kameie. Nga yawne lu oer. I will say this once and you will carry it in your heart for the rest of your life; we are yours, and you are ours.” You know it. A hidden piece of your heart has always known that even if you never found a mate you would be content with your life with Ronal and Tonowari. But they’re mated with each other. Of course you never considered you could fit in a place where two halves already made a whole.

“Tonowari has been in love with you from the moment he was set to be your fertility match. His love for you was easy. I didn’t earn his affections so easily, you remember.” You do. Being olo’eyktan or tsahìk is a heavy burden to bear and while Ronal always did so with grace it was plain to your eyes as someone close to both of them that their love took some time to blossom. They were awkward with each other, stepping lightly to avoid any upset before finding their standing as a mated couple. Ao’nung and the rest followed soon after. So strange that two arrangements had such different results. Or perhaps not seeing as the three of you managed to tie your hearts together in the end. Though you never considered your place in their lives to be valued in the same way they regarded each other. Clearly you’d been wrong all these years.

She leans in close to rest her forehead against yours and heat builds in the space between your lips as you breathe against each other. It’s a familiar sort of closeness that you’ve neglected to think could ever mean more than a close bond of friendship and parenthood. The tip of her nose draws across your flushed skin, brushing through your drying tears as she nuzzles against you. Her breath is warm against your cheeks as she takes in the scent of your skin, kissing the ripples of your pil until her lips find yours. They’re soft and warm and she tastes of sweet juice. The kiss is fleeting and precious.

“Oel ngati kameie.” The words are whispered against her lips as she kisses you again. How long have you spent saying such words when you hadn’t truly seen what was right before your eyes. So many years wasted considering yourself an accessory to their bond when, in their minds, you had always been included. How much you have missed trying to live freely and save your heart the ache of abandonment when everything you could ever want was already within reach. Your fingers trace over the tattoo etched around the shape of her and curling high on her cheekbone. She hums quietly, eyes falling shut as she pulls you as close as her stomach will allow. The torch she lit is still burning but it gives you light to see her by as she falls asleep beneath your gentle touches. You resolve to speak with Tonowari when you wake, to try to mend the hole you’ve torn in your lives.

It’s easier said than done, though, because when the sun rises and Ronal with it you find yourself hesitant to approach Tonowari. Dawn turns to day and you find your hands busy in places the olo’eyktan would have no reason to be. By the time the sun has reached its peak in the sky you’re busying yourself in Tsireya’s shadow, assisting her in teaching the children. She seems grateful for the added guidance you can offer, never asking what possessed you to suddenly want to stay so close to the village when midday usually finds you far beyond the terraces, hunting or frolicking on some lesser traveled islands. Weaving is easier work than hunting, not as strenuous of a task, as you teach the younglings the different types of braids and knots that make their homes and clothing. When the sun begins to set the children scatter home and you realize the day has been wasted without you speaking a single word to Tonowari. Tsireya keeps up a pleasant conversation as the two of you straighten up the marui used for teaching, collecting dropped beads and setting aside the childrens’ weavings.

“Txa’ro shows a lot of promise, I think.” She hums happily. “She learned the arrowhead pattern quite quickly.” You nod, though your mind is far off. If any student showed any outstanding capability today you hardly noticed it. The whole day has passed in a haze like fog has settled before your eyes. Last night was like a dream, a short breath before the waves crashed over you once more. If your daughter is bothered by your uncharacteristic silence she doesn’t mention it, simply carrying the conversation herself as you follow her absently through the village only to stop once a familiar marui comes into view. It feels as though your feet are caught in mud, sucking you into the bouncing path as Tsireya continues on, happily chatting until she realizes you’re no longer beside her.

“Ma Sa’nok?” She reaches towards you, expecting that you’ll move to take her hand, and her face falls when you don’t. Both of you stand watching each other until finally Tsireya nods and says good night, finishing the trek home by herself. It pains you to see your daughter upset and distant but you can’t bring yourself to face her father. Not yet. Instead you go in the opposite direction with no destination in mind. You walk until you run out of woven paths and the air no longer carries the scent of dinners being made, until you reach the fringes of the village where the beach is deserted.

This isn’t how the day was meant to end but it ends all the same as you sit and watch Naranawm’s shadow swallow the sun. Soon the eclipse will break into deep night and you’ll return home without having shared a single word with Tonowari. So strange that is. There were once days when the two of you could be parted for only a few hours, for as long as chores demanded it and not a moment more. But that was when the children were young and needy for their parents’ attention. Now they’re old enough to deal with things on their own without your guidance. The sand is soft as you lay back to stare at the sky until it goes dark as your eyes drift shut. They don’t open again until you feel the sand shift beside you. It’s different than a rising tide swelling around you and you turn your head towards the disturbance.

Tonowari sits beside you, lit in deep shades of blue beneath the night sky. He isn’t looking at you yet. Instead his eyes are fixed in the far distance, on the dark silhouette of the seawall where the terrace pools are lit with rippling syuratan. When he finally looks at you his eyes are filled with a foreign sort of longing. It’s a strange expression to see on his face. Tonowari has never been known to put his desires before anything else, if anything his wants and needs can be forgotten and buried if it means peace and prosperity for the clan. His role as olo’eyktan is put before everything in his life. Every clan needs a leader and Tonowari and Ronal both uphold their roles with the utmost care, never straying from the path Eywa has set for them. Seeing him look so lost within himself would be mystifying if you didn’t know the cause of his clouded mind. It’s in the reflection of his blue eyes, the pattern of your glowing freckles appearing like aysnatanhì in his forlorn gaze. You’re the reason for this and it feels like a knife to your heart and you desperately want to heal the wounds you’ve caused.

“I’m sorry.” It isn’t enough but you say it anyway. Sorry is for stepping on someone’s tail or being too rough during training. It’s for small disagreements. Not something like this. Still you want to cling to the idea that what’s broken can be fixed with enough patience and attention. Tonowari seems to share the sentiment as he brushes the sand from your hair as you sit up, fingers tracing down your arm until he can bring your hand to his lips. It isn’t a kiss. Not truly. He presses his lips against your knuckles like he’s trying to see if you’re truly here before him. He seems soothed when you don’t turn to smoke before his eyes.

“Don’t.” He says before you can further embarrass yourself with meager words of atonement. “Don’t apologize.” Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. Apologies are all you have to give. If he won’t accept them then perhaps this distance can never be bridged again.

“May I speak plainly?” You’ve never asked his permission to speak as bluntly as you do, but Tonowari is always considerate, even when it is undeserving. He takes a while to speak after you nod your acquiescence as if he’s weighing his words to see which will sit heaviest on your heart. Even in his anger he can find a moment to be kind.

“You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever met.” He says at last. It doesn’t sting as much as you’d expect it to. It’s a sentiment you’ve heard your entire life. Too brash, too harsh, too willful. Of course people will find you difficult but it’s the first time Tonowari has said it so plainly.

“Ronal may not mind having to fight with you and wrangle you like an untamed beast, but I do. I only want to love you but you make it so hard for me. If I get too close you pull away. It feels like I am fighting to keep you by my side. And then you say–” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You say you want another child and you don’t come to me for this. You flaunt yourself around the village as if I cannot give you what you’ve asked for. I can. I will. You just have to let me. That is all I want.”

“I didn’t know.” It’s hardly an excuse but it is the truth. Tonowari stiffens beside you, lips pressing into a firm line.

“Didn’t know?” He glowers, ears pulling back before he calms himself. “Then let me tell you so that you know. From today onward, paskalin, let there be no more confusion. I love you. As a husband loves his wife, I love you. I know you do not wish to be mated. I understand your heart. But you are my mate even still. You belong to me and I belong to you. Just as I belong to Ronal. Just as you belong to her. And if you want children I will give them to you. No one else.” He bares his teeth though there’s no one but you to see his show of possessive aggression.

It’s so strange to hear him want something so desperately. Tonowari has always done what is expected of him. For the good of the People he has always thought of the clan before himself. To hear him almost begging for this allowance to be selfish, it lights a fire inside you.

“I don’t care about them. Tayku and the rest,” Tonowari scowls at the sound of the boy’s name, “I never wanted them.”

“Then what do you want?” You’re reminded that beyond his duties as a leader, Tonowari is a warrior. He pulls you into his lap with great strength, one hand keeping your eyes on his as the other holds your waist.

“I want this.” You whisper. “I want you.”

His lips burn as they meet yours in a deep kiss, searing the promise you’ve made into your memory. The night air is warm but you shiver as Tonowari’s hands trace across your skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close with him and it overwhelms you as he pulls you tight against him and whispers sweet promises over your parted lips. You whine as his fangs nip over your neck, tongue tracing the shape of your tattoos until he finally settles against your chest. He noses at the delicate shells of your draping top, breath puffing against your heated skin. His blunt nails drag down your exposed back to your hips, pulling you harder against him. His intentions are clear and you’re more than happy to comply as he toys with the knots keeping you covered. You’re far enough from the village that no one will stumble upon the two of you as he lays you bare beneath the stars.

The hardest part passes with the rising of the sun but there is still work to be done before things can truly be as they should between the three of you. Hunting is strenuous but there is always more to do after the beast is slain and prayers are said in its honor. There is cleaning, skinning, cutting, cooking, and preserving even after that. The hunt is not over until even the bones of the animal are put to some use. The renewed and deepened intimacy with the olo’eyktan and tsahìk is hardly enough to heal the pain amassed over many years. A wound needs to be tended not ignored lest it bleed you dry. It was nearing that point, would’ve surely reached it had you gone through with letting another man father your newest child. The strained bond would’ve been shattered to splinters beyond salvaging but as it stands you can manage to slowly place the pieces back together.

It is a slow walk to where you want to be, but each step brings all of you closer. At first it’s only small things; Ronal stealing kisses in secluded places and Tonowari lingering near you far more than necessary. They’re more protective now as if they’re worried someone will come along to trample on your budding affections. It’s all new to you, this deeper sort of courtship as you’ve never allowed anyone to go beyond the point of flattery and gifts. The fierce loyalty is to be expected. In truth you’ve never been loyal to anyone besides them. Even before your confessions and admissions of love you never bothered to be closer than friends with anyone. To be doted on so openly soothes the bruised piece of your heart still agonizing over being left behind if they grow tired of you. In so many years their feelings have remained unflinching for each other, and for you. It’s a nagging feeling you wish to starve out of your mind. Eywa has graced you with two people you adore and who love you with equal fervor in return. Tsaheylu or not the three of you have been mated since you laid with Tonowari beneath the night sky.

Things have finally fallen back into place. Ronal still bites back at every curt remark you make and Tonowari still worries anytime you’re too far from home. But there is no more edge of awkwardness as you hesitate to kiss Tonowari or lean against Ronal. Bashfulness is unneeded when they revel in your tentative touches. Their affections manifest differently, Ronal being more subtle as Tonowari is more boastful, but you learn to balance yourself between the two of them. Ronal won’t ask for a kiss. She will simply stare at your lips until you offer one. Tonowari acts instinctually, wrapping you in his arms the moment the desire rises. It swirls new rumors of the clan leaders’ mate though many simply laugh over how long it’s taken you to accept the title they all called you in secret. It dizzies your head to know that it had been only you standing in the way of your happiness, clawing and hissing when no one meant to harm you. How foolish you’d been to run from your feelings when they were so plainly reciprocated. All that pain suffered and inflicted with no reason for it. The thought weighs heavy on your heart, ears lowering as you mull over your work.

“Enough.” Ronal says just as quickly as the regret begins to creep in. The energy of the air has surely shifted as your soul sinks into a dark place and your tsahìk is quick to catch it. She’s irritable in the last months of her own pregnancy, more easily disturbed by small things.

“Come here.” She makes room on the hammock she’s sitting in expecting that you’ll join her without protest. Of course you do, dropping what you’d been doing to sit beside her. The squid can wait. You’ve harvested enough of their ink for the moment though the one in your hand clings defiantly, little tentacles winding around your fingers as you try to drop into the bowl with the others. Ronal makes a face as she watches you gently peel the creature from your hand. Despite their necessity for the tradition of tattooing, she’s always found squids to be unpleasant. Something about their wriggling legs unsettling her. It’s an amusing distaste she has considering how many times you’ve reminded her their legs are more similar to the sinuous nerves of a kuru, but she won’t have it. You press a kiss to her temple as you sit to offer penance for bringing the creatures near her.

She hums and goes back to her sewing, stitching delicate beads into the intricate weaving of a new top. Idly you flex your leg, gently rocking the hammock as you bury your foot in the sand. The day has gone by with a harmonious sort of stillness as the clan spent the heat of the day on menial tasks. Despite the more secluded area you find yourself in you can still hear the soft din of voices; work songs and gossip and children shrieking happily as they splash in the waves. You rest a hand on your stomach. Enough time has passed for you to be showing. Tonowari has been pleased since Ronal first confirmed the news, hands constantly brushing over your stomach even when you looked no larger than you had before. Now he’s weak with anticipation for their first stirring. You can already hear the words on his tongue as the olo’eyktan appears down the beach, smiling happily at the sight of his mates cocooned together.

“Oh.” Before he can ask there’s a sudden fluttering in your stomach, light and quick like the feeling of a fish swimming past you.

“Oh?” Ronal asks, setting aside her sewing. Your hand presses lightly against the place you felt the burst of movement.

“Are they moving?” Tonowari asks excitedly, already kneeling before you. His hand trails up your calf to settle on your knee, blue eyes imploring as you stare blankly in wait for another flutter. It comes again and you laugh at the strangely ticklish feelings, pulling his hand from your knee to press against your stomach.

“Did you feel it?” You ask when the baby moves again. Your child is strong, moving with great vigor. It isn’t always a pleasant feeling as you remember the bouts of sickness Ketsräno raised while he twisted and kicked inside you, but this is the first of the new baby’s movements and they’re hardly enough to disturb you. Tonowari nods though his eyes stay trained on your belly. Ronal’s hand pushes in beside her husband’s, fingers overlapping with your own as you guide Tonowari’s hand to where the kicks are strongest. She’s shared in your toiling of carrying a child, knows that it won’t always be this easy, but for the moment neither of you mention it. Instead she presses a kiss to your cheek, your nose, landing one on your lips when you turn towards her amorous mouth. Tonowari catches your lips soon after, hand still pressed against your stomach. He doesn’t go far as he pulls away.

Instead he wraps his hands around your waist, lifting you from your seat to twirl you in a circle. There are no words for what he’s feeling because all that falls from his lips are sounds of pure elation. Laughter, as deep and rolling as the ocean fills the alcove as he dances with you. Ronal watches the two of you for a moment before smiling herself and standing to join. Your heart swells near to bursting as you realize this is what you would’ve missed had the storm of distance and anger never torn through your life. You’ve made something better of what remained when the rain gave way to sunlight. This is what you tried to deprive yourself of with your rash overthinking. You’ll never be so presumptuous again. Not when Tonowari and Ronal renew their vows to you with each passing breath. Paskalin, tìyawn, muntxate. They don’t let you forget their love for even a moment and you’ll dedicate your life to returning it a thousand times over.

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Lorpaytsyal – chandelier fish

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Txampaysye – gill mantle

Tanhì – bioluminescent freckles, star

Parultsyìp – little miracle, term of endearment for a child

Sempul – father

Hì’ikran – dorado verde, small ikran (speculative)

Nawmtu – great person (honorific)

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Skxawng – moron