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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years

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'eveng- Part 2

‘eveng [ˈʔɛ.vɛŋ] n. child

Request from @rainbowsocks: Can we have a part 2 where we see the family’s reaction to neteyams daughter?

Neteyam returned, having secured peace for your people after a year of war, to find you had a very big - and also very small - surprise for him; now, his family gets the same surprise.

Picks up right where Part 1 left off. Part 1 is probably necessary before reading this. Go ahead and read it - this will be here for you when you're done.

Part 1, Part 3

590 words.

"Parul," you said with a contented sigh. "Perfect."

Your mate held you close to him, your sleeping newborn daughter between the two of you, and you had everything you could possibly want.

"My family! They need to meet her."

Eagerly, you nodded. As if on cue, as you both turned to find them, the rest of the Sullys were already arriving - probably having followed Neteyam.

They had a similar reaction to your mate - excitement as they charged towards the two of you, and then absolute shock when they saw the small bundle in Neteyam's arms.

Lo'ak was the first to speak. "Holy shit. Who's baby is that, Neteyam?"

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh.

"She is mine, Lo'ak. Ours," Neteyam replied, his voice absolutely booming with pride as he looked down at your daughter, and then over at you. "This is my daughter. Your niece."

"Oh, Great Mother!" Neteyri rushed past her family straight to you, bringing you into her arms. "Tell me how you are doing, Y/N. How was the birth? The pregnancy? How do you feel now?"

You felt overwhelmed at the attention from Neteyam's mother, and so oddly grateful that she had rushed to you, and not your daughter. It made you feel special, not overlooked as new mothers so often did.

"The pregnancy was easy, the birth was really hard, and I'm very tired," you replied honestly, and she gave you a knowing smile.

"We are here now. May I hold my first grandchild?" She finally turned her attention to her son, arms outstretched, and he placed the tiny child safety there. "What is her name?" Neytiri asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the baby.

"Parul," you and Neteyam replied in sync.

Jake approached, putting an arm around his wife to gaze down at your child. "Wow. Look at that. Looks just like you when you were born - all wrinkly and beautiful."

He reached out, clapping his eldest son on the back. "Well done."

Neytiri scowled up at him. "Your son has done nothing. Congratulate Y/N, she did all the work."

Jake laughed, and pulled up in for a rare embrace. "Good job, girl."

You hugged him in return, and the rest of Neteyam's siblings gathered, cooing over the baby and asking so many questions about how it was to be pregnant, and what the baby was like now.

"Well, mostly she sleeps and eats. And poops. Do you want to change her next diaper, Uncle Lo'ak?"

He wrinkled his head, but smiled down at his niece in his arms when she cooed and smiled in her sleep.

"How could someone as ugly as Neteyam make something so..." Lo'ak trailed off.

"Gorgeous," Kiri finished his sentence for him, and then smiled at me. "I can't believe we missed everything."

"There will be another, someday," I said, and Neteyam looked at me with wide eyes.

"I just met this one," he said, and his family laughed.

That night, Neytiri stayed nearby so she could help with the baby at night, and allow you a little bit of sleep. You were so grateful for her - and so tired - that you cried a little bit when she told you. Your own parents were gone, and you had felt so alone through your pregnancy and birth.

You prayed to the Great Mother, thanking her for returning your family so soon.

That night, you slept peacefully in your mate's arms, knowing that he and his family were back to take care of you.

#neteyam #Neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar 2 #Neteyam fic

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beaniebeensbaby201 · 2 years

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Omg yall I just saw avatar 2 and I'll take requests for anyone who wants an avatar fanfic it was so goooddd like neteyri is such a badass mother like yall it's a 1000/1000 recommend for those who are Avatar lovers.

#avatar way of water #avatar #for you page #requests #jake sully #eywa #fanfic

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gomathibalasubramanian-blog · 8 years

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Avatar!

1)Name the ‘informant’ in the movie and explain how he/she shares information with the researcher.

Jake Sully got to be the informant. he played the role of a former U.S. Marine who got paralysed from his waist down due to an accident which occured at the combat, and he gets selected to take his Identical twin brother’s place Tom sully in the avatar science setup due to his scientist brothers death, who recently got killed by a robber. when a few of the squad members including jake decided to make a short visit to the avatar world, they slowly lose their ways, and jake gets stuck at the avatar world. and a few wild dogs chase him, and a female avatar Neteyri helps him. and he slowly strikes a conversation with her and finds his way to the villagers gathering with the king and queen. he slowly convinces them to teach him their ways, rituals etc in other words he asked them if could learn to be one of them. and they agreed. So, when he returned back to the avatar lab he started recording video tapes with his information to maintain them. this is how he shared information to the researchers.

2)Name the character that is a participant observer and the one that is a non-participant observer. Describe how both of them collect information.

Jake and grace were the participators. And the non-participants would be the rest of the actors from Dr. Augustine to the rest of the avatars listening to them. On his first visit to the other world, he got attacked by the wild dogs, and got saved by neteyiri. he was then dragged to Eywa their sacred tree, and he had to speak to Eyukan the leader of the avatars group. but slowly jake allured them to trust him and they agreed to teach him. netwyiri slowly taught him how to converse in Na’vi, she also taught him to fight like a warrior, and he started understanding their living more. And grace ended up teaching the younger avatars a lot of things, they also got very comfortable with her. she was genuinely very nice to them.

3) In the movie, describe the kind of information gathered that can be constituted as emic/etic data.

The Specific language the Avatars converse in, which is called the Na’vi language. this language is a constructed language spoken by the avatar community in the film. It goes pretty much like the other constructed languages, which have surprised and Awestruck a lot of people. other languages with strong roots have been Quenya and sindarin. Tolkien’s elvish tongues from the lord of the rings books and other various books and tv series which follow the same structure.

#feb12017 12:08am

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER SEVEN

The Barrens (as the Anurai called it) weren’t as plain as Lo’ak first believed the night he found himself with Layaki and Co’sai. As they ventured on, what was once flat rock became a tumultuous terrain – the earth was slashed with mouths that seemed to reach no end and canyons that snaked around cliffs so tall, they blocked out the sun. It then made more sense to him why the Oso’i were slow: one false step could lead to death.

“Hold on and do not look down,” Co’sai taunted. They were making their way down the side of a cliff, the footholds barely wide enough for their animals. Of course, Lo’ak automatically glanced over the edge. Below was nothing but darkness; a pit created with another cliff just yards away from the one they were on. His fingers tensed over Layaki’s shoulder and the wrist in his sling pinged from the sudden flex of his fist. It was an instant regret.

“Close your eyes, that might be better,” Layaki said. Lo’ak did not need to be told twice. He kept his eyes shut for what felt like a couple of hours, his anxieties easily fighting off any temptation to fall asleep. Then, almost scaring him to death, Co’sai loudly sang a string of notes that bounced off of the rocks around them.

“What was that?” Lo’ak asked.

“It is to tell them we are home,” Lo’ak’s ears perked up as if to say ‘really? We’re here?’

“You may open your eyes now,” Layaki finished. Slowly, Lo’ak’s eyes fluttered open.

Both of the cliff sides fanned out into platforms, a wide wicker bridge weaving them together. Torches were lit on either side: beacons that marked the entrance into the Anurai's village. Past it, Lo’ak could make out slopes that ran down to other naturally formed platforms and nooks that looked like half-formed caves. Flames danced everywhere, which made it hard for him to believe that it was still only noon. The village was an amalgamation of nature and Na’vi-made structures, creating a mix-matched world in which the Anurai have used the cliffs as a kind of guide or foundation – they had built around and with what they were given. Co’sai sang another string of notes.

“Now what does that mean?” Lo’ak looked over Layaki’s shoulder at Co’sai, who seemed pleased with his vocals.

“That we have a… prisoner,” Layaki answered. Na’vi faces began to peek out of crevices and huts, peering up at them as they made their way down. 'Prisoner' did not sit well at all with Lo’ak, but in light of the circumstances there was no other way to put it. A handful of the Anurai made their way to the entrance, their deep blue skins glimmering with a hue of purple by the firelight. The Oso’i stopped in front of them. Co’sai spoke to the people and they listened with eyes trained on Lo’ak. Layaki intervened, probably to clarify that Lo’ak was not a ‘prisoner’, but a ‘guest’ of sorts.

The crowd gave way as Co’sai, Layaki, and Lo’ak slid down to the ground, parting like fish around a predator. Lo’ak stared directly ahead, looking only at the back of Co’sai’s head as they made their way down the wicker path. Co’sai and Layaki passed their satchels off to a few men, giving instructions in their language before continuing on. At the very end of the bridge that spanned the abyss, was a place where the two cliffs met, creating a semi-vast platform of stone in which the largest hut was built. The walls were of direhorse leather and the doorway was the skull of a large animal that Lo’ak had never seen before. Its rows of teeth on the bottom jaw had the front canines removed as though to form a path into the home. Co’sai sang again, a low tune that echoed through the firelight. Lo’ak pressed his lips together, his heart beginning to race. If he was refused by the Olo’eyktan, he might as well be dead. The leather curtain parted.

A tall, broad-shouldered Na’vi stepped forth, dressed with pieces of leather and bone. His hair fell to his shoulders in braids, held together by beads of carefully carved materials that Lo’ak couldn’t place. A headband wrapped around the width of his head with fangs as their centrepiece. His eyes were the gleaming silver of daggers.

“Rai’lu.” Co’sai and Layaki bowed and Lo’ak quickly followed suit. Rai’lu nodded.

“We have found this Na’vi in the Barrens, fallen from the sky and separated from his family,” Layaki stated. Rai’lu scanned the boy, his gaze stopping on his hands.

“And who are you?” He asked, his voice a deep baritone sound. Lo’ak blinked. He did not expect such a direct question.

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, son of the Omaticaya’s Toruk Macto,” Lo’ak replied. Rai’lu frowned.

“No. Who are you,” he asked again. Lo’ak’s brow furrowed. What the hell does that even mean? He felt Layaki and Co’sai looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“Just Lo’ak, sir,” he meekly said. Rai’lu stood straighter, as if the answer was almost appalling.

“And what do you need of the Anurai?”

“Help to find my family. We were looking for the Olangi Clan before I was lost – if I can be brought to them, that is all I need.” A second of silence. Rai’lu looked from Co’sai to Layaki, again communicating as if words were not enough. Lo’ak clenched his jaw.

“The Olangi are a traveling people. In order to return you, we must find them and even then, we do not know how long that would take,” Rai’lu thought aloud, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We can send a Varsh to search and send word – have them come to us,” Layaki interjected. A day later, when they were alone, Layaki explained that a Varsh was a bird that could carry messages relayed through a bond.

“And while we wait?” Rai’lu asked. To Lo’ak’s surprise, it was Co’sai that spoke next.

“We can always use an extra hand.”

Just like that, Rai’lu consented and Lo’ak blew out a breath of relief. Rai’lu instructed Layaki to go and make arrangements with a Varsh to fly out before dawn the next day. Co’sai was to check the rations and materials so that one more mouth was accounted for.

“And you,” he looked at Lo’ak.

“You stay with me. No other home here can accommodate another.”

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That night, Rai’lu sat Lo’ak down in the middle of the home and told the story of his people. As artisans and craftsmen, their creations were intricate, beautiful, and highly coveted by the Sky People. Their sculptures, tools, art… Everything seemed to be of high value for the aliens. At first, they were satisfied with what they could be given, but over time those open hands came with requests, and those requests quickly turned into orders. At gunpoint, the Anurai lived like factory workers, fashioning whatever was asked of them at the condition that their sacred stones (the sculptures of their history) and spirit tree were not touched. They slaved away, their weak and elderly meeting death earlier than Eywa would have wanted due to exhaustion.

“Even then, it was not enough,” Rai’lu said.

In the middle of an eclipse, the clan was raided for all that they owned. Rai’lu’s father had instructed Rai’lu to take all the children and those of his generation far, far away, and by morning, all that had remained of their home was mere ash and smoke. The fight was useless: they were no match for the aliens' machinery.

Rai’lu then took Lo’ak’s wrist and held his palm up between their faces. Their stares locked on to each other.

“I do not trust you. Toruk Macto means nothing here. If I find that you bring harm to my people, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?”

Lo’ak’s eyes burned. His throat felt as though it were closing up on itself.

“Understood, sir.”

Rai’lu dropped his hand and with a nod, gestured to one of the leather curtains to the side.

“That is your room. You may go,” he said. Lo’ak did not have to be told twice. He got up, said his formalities, and disappeared behind the curtain.

The room almost completely empty save for a single wicker cot that was fashioned in the corner. There was a small leather flap by it on the wall, rolled up so that the cool air flowed silently into the room. And the view… Lo’ak stretched his arm through the hole and felt the cool, damp cliff face against his skin. It was then, in the dark, that he allowed himself to cry.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story #miles socorro #miles quaritch

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER SIX

“Spider?” A muffled whisper had pierced through the boy's sleep-ridden head. Spider grumbled as he shifted onto his other side.

“Spider!” The voice was Kiri’s – it was clearer now and it was enough to shake him awake. His eyes darted open and he bolted upright, looking around frantically.

He was all alone.

It took a moment for his memory to shake off sleep and recall that the Sullys had left their base of operations just a few days ago in search of the Olangi clan. They were gone. Kiri was gone. He rubbed at his eyes. Why did it feel as though it had been an eternity since then?

He got up from bed and wandered over into the “dream-walker’s lab”, as he and the Sullys liked to call it. Norm was at his usual desk, going over the lab reports regarding daily life on Pandora: it was one of the many things he reveled in doing ever since Jake placed him in charge of it.

"Morning, sunshine," he said over his shoulder. Spider mumbled a sleepy 'good morning' back as he took a seat by one of the great windows that overlooked the Omaticaya stronghold and the cliffs that hovered outside. One which overlooked a world that was so vast, he was nothing but an ant running around in it.He raised his hand to the level of his face, eyes tracing the blue paint he had drawn all over himself. Then, he curled it into a fist and punched the glass. Norm's head whipped to him, confused at such an outburst so early in the day.

"You okay there?"

“I should’ve went with them,” Spider said.

No matter how much time he had spent with the Sullys, he will always be an outsider: from demon’s blood, as they say in Na’vi. When they ran across the mountains, scaled trees, or hunted, he had to exert himself to the point of exhaustion just to keep up. And when he couldn’t, the widening gap between him and the others was a piercing ache in his heart; a reminder that he was not like them. That he will always be separated by a mask.

“Well without your own Ikran that wouldn’t have been the best,” Norm replied a little too bluntly, which earned an eyeroll from Spider. He turned from the window and walked over to Norm’s side to glance over the reports. Having been practically raised like a Na’vi, he was Norm’s go-to-guy for any questions on the wildlife and cultures of Pandora. However, rather than the papers filled from top to bottom with text, his eyes found themselves looking at something else entirely. It was a screen depicting a diagram of the body of a young Na’vi in a tube, similar to the one they used to keep Grace’s avatar alive. Spider tilted his head in confusion, traces of any anger gone from his face.

“Who’s that?” He asked. Norm merely chuckled at how quickly the boy’s mood had shifted.

“Your avatar body seems to be growing nicely,” he said.

Spider froze.

There was no way.

They didn’t even have the resources they needed up there to create any more avatars.

His eyes snapped to Norm.

“You’re kidding,” he said. Norm finally turned to look at him, unable to hide his grin any longer.

“Not one bit, kid.” The confirmation knocked the wind out of Spider. His chest felt as though it were about to give way, but also explode at the same time. His mouth laughed, yet his eyes watered – is that what pure happiness is supposed to feel like? He threw his arms around Norm’s shoulders, squeezing so tight that Norm fell into a fit of coughs.

“Alright alright, I get it, you’re welcome,” Norm managed. Spider released him and picked up the screen from the desk. It showed the body of a child avatar writhing in its container, but it was alive and real. He heard it: its heartbeat. His heartbeat.

“You’re lucky Jake was able to secure a lab like this for us early on. Pretty soon you’ll be able to try establishing a connection with it just to test out if you’re really ready to join the Sully kids,” Norm said. He gave Spider a pat on the back as a tear fell from Spider’s chin.

“You kidding me Norm? I am Na’vi. I was born for this.”

Norm nodded at Spider’s enthusiasm for his avatar, but the boy’s strong disregard for his human side creased Norm’s brow. No matter how much Norm loved Pandora and the Na’vi, he was still human. Sure, people do fucked up things, but… doesn’t everybody? Don’t the Na’vi, who would rather kill than surrender their pride? Norm forced the thoughts out of his head. He’d been waiting years for this moment – he shouldn’t spoil it for himself. Nor should he spoil it for Spider.

“Just a few more days of development. While waiting, I’ll get you up to speed on what to expect.”

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A long way away from the Omaticaya Stronghold, another military base had been set up by the Sky People. Quaritch’s radio had been picking up its signals, and after hours of flying he had finally found it. Soldiers and marines setting up camp in different locations was nothing new; the practice came naturally with trying to conquer new territory. He was just glad to finally start seeing some familiar faces after months of solitude.

He landed his ikran near one of the guard posts and was immediately met with hostility: soldiers rushed to him, weapons up and aimed. Orders were being yelled over the mighty flapping of his ikran’s wings. Insect-like robots halted their work and scuttled out of the way. Quaritch nonchalantly told them to settle down as he held his hands up to reassure them that he was an avatar. Their avatar. It was only when General Ardmore approached in her exo-skeleton suit that the soldiers lowered their weapons. Quaritch hopped off his mount.

“Colonel Miles Quaritch, returning for duty,” He said, saluting her and only her. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Colonel, we cannot have untamed creatures like that in the base. We are already lacking manpower – we cannot afford to have any devoured,” she said. Quaritch grimaced.

“Apologies ma’am, but anyone as much as grazes my ride can expect my fist up their asses,” he replied. It’s like having a dog, he told himself. The general squinted. Her eyes were cold and unwavering, piercing Quaritch’s as if looking for a tear in his resolve. He did not flinch. A deep and coarse voice then cut into the scene between them.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing Colonel. No one is insane enough to approach an ikran. Well, no one human that is."

An unknown avatar began walking towards them through the men in arms, his stride sure and precise. He wore the usual military-esq cargo pants, but Quaritch caught an unfamiliar tattoo of a sigil that ran along the man’s shoulders up until his forearms. To the untrained eye, he looked marine, but Quaritch knew that he wasn’t.

“And who might you be, son?” Quadritch addressed the young avatar cautiously.

“Hresvelg company, PMC. Been tasked to be your new second in command," the avatar replied. Quadritch scoffed at the idea of working with PMCs (Private Military Corporations). The bastards used any and all methods to get a mission done – methods that could make even Quaritch’s stomach turn. Marines were killers, but at least they had rules. Structure. The scars lying underneath the avatar’s many tattoos were like a warning bell that this man had seen the worst of anarchy.

“Heard great things about you sir. It would be my honour to work alongside you and watch you up close. I used to be in the Rangers, but got honourably discharged after a… Questionable decision. Been with Hresvelg ever since.” As the man talked, Quadritch still couldn’t shake off the odd feeling he was getting from him – the man didn’t even bother to give out his name.

“Follow, colonel. We have much to discuss since you’ve been awol,” the general turned on her heel and began walking towards the base. The avatar stayed still, waiting for Quaritch to head after her. Quaritch moved, eyeing the avatar as he passed. He didn’t like being in the dark. And PMCs had a lot of darkness to hide.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story #miles socorro #miles quaritch

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER NINE

Still darkness, like a calm lake. All it took was one drop to disturb the peace. As his consciousness started to return, the sensation of tiny electric pulses ran through his body and helped him awake from the transfer.

“Spider?” Norm’s familiar voice came through amidst the other muffled voices he heard.

This was his 3rd time jumping into his avatar and it still felt like he was waking up from a dream. Despite that haze, his vital signs were steady and once he got on his feet, he had everything under control. It was only the process of jumping in and out of his avatar and human self that was certainly a feeling to get used to over time. He stood up carefully and caught a glimpse of his avatar self in the mirror. It was still a shock to see himself as young as a six-year-old.

“Remember, avatar bodies grow fast. One moment, you’re a child and the next thing you know, you could be choosing your own Ikran,” Norm said over the intercom. Spider’s big brown eyes widened with delight as his tail thrashed around in excitement. Norm sighed – Spider was prone to be impatient, especially when the thing he wanted most was just a few moments away from his grasp. But as Norm was explaining how they should be doing some more test runs before he could go out, Spider had already slipped through the back door and out of the avatar infirmary. As he passed by Grace’s avatar on the way out, he respectfully waved at her to respect her as a fellow Na’vi, just like how Kiri would have wanted him to.

There’s no time to waste, I have to get used to this body.

Spider’s thoughts focused on becoming the Na’vi he was born to be, becoming one with this avatar body that would eventually lead to him being officially part of the Sully family; Neytiri would definitely have to accept him now. He moved quickly through the forest as he knew it like the back of his hand. Ever since the Sully’s left, Norm and Max had been carefully monitoring the activities of the sky people militia that had recently set up camp near the original Omatikaya Hometree. Spider had always wanted to be part of the recon team alongside Neteyam and Lo’ak years back, even before they had left for the Metkayina. Now was his chance. He knew that there were some rough Omatikaya who were hardcore believers of Jake’s ambushes and that they were trying to continue what he started. Spider knew he really shouldn’t be meddling with the activities of rogue Na’vi with his bond so fresh with his avatar, but he was just too thrilled to finally be one of them that it silenced his conscience.

Walking along the abandoned train line that they had sabotaged years ago, he soon found what looked to be a smaller camp of Omatikaya teenagers; youngsters who had just bonded with their Ikran. They were talking amongst themselves around a fire, something about plans to target the Sky People’s Hometree base. His ears lowered upon the mention of an attack at night. These kids knew nothing of what awaited them there.

“A night attack is too reckless,” he blurted out loud. The teens whipped their heads towards his direction, hissing at the outsider who had been eavesdropping on them. Spider raised his hands to show that he was unarmed.

“Fresh demon blood!” One of them scowled. Another Na’vi scoffed, telling him that he was too young anyways – what did he know? Spider took a step back, outnumbered and suddenly terrified. It slipped his mind that none of them knew about his new avatar.

“Go back to where you came from,” the one who called him ‘demon blood’ spat.

Spider did not have to be told again. He quickly turned on his heel and ran.

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“So let me get this straight. You want me to sniff out the Sully’s so that you can take Jake in alive?” There was disgust riddled in Colonel Quadritch’s words as the new guy sat in front of him with a light in hand.

“Humanity is on the brink of extinction, Colonel. The wallets want to study what it takes to be able to fully transfer themselves into another body. They’re not satisfied with downloading their memories into a hard drive and plugging it in anywhere,” was the man’s reply. He held Quadritch’s file in his hand and reviewed his details, specifically the part where it said he was just living off of downloaded data. He wasn’t his realself. There was no soul in that clone.

“If it makes you feel any better, Colonel,” the man added, “We don’t need his wife alive. You can have all the revenge you want with her.”

While that did sound enticing, Quadritch didn’t like the idea of handing Jake over to the white coats without having his share of dealing with him. Jake’s betrayal lost him countless comrades and he only had himself to blame for not foreseeing such an outcome. However, orders were orders. He guessed this would be better than being honorably discharged for failing his mission multiple times.

“When do we fly out, Sir...?” Quadritch cleared his throat and now eyed the man with an intense gaze. The man merely chuckled as he looked up, flicking his cig away and stepping on it.

“Weiss. But you can drop the ‘sir’. Let’s warm your engine Colonel: we have a point of interest marked on the map. There are some stragglers still trying to carry out Sully’s ambushes on our transit line. I think these Na’vi need to be reminded of where they stand in the food chain,” he said. With that, Quadritch was soon introduced to his new team of military trained avatars with Weiss as his new second in command, much to his dismay. They were armed enough for a short clean up of trigger happy Omatikaya in the area. They moved out in less than 10 minutes, a party of a little over nine fully-armed avatars now closing in on the coordinates on the map.

“We have smoke, captain,” their sniper called out as he reeled back from his scope. Quadritch peered over his shoulder and indeed, there was a smoke plume coming out from one of the crevices of the railways. As they tried to hover for a better look, a loud screech peeled through the air.

The Ikrans had spotted them.

“Down, down, and light ‘em up!” Quadritch commanded, his soldier instincts taking over. One by one, the avatars rappelled down, dodging both arrows and poorly aimed rifle shots.

“Spread out,” Weiss ordered with a smug grin as he managed to get the rogues to scatter after killing two with two quick trigger-pulls. Bodies were dropping of both of Na’vi and avatars, but Quadritch found himself closing in on them from behind, assassinating three of the lookouts with a knife. Another soldier came in behind him and shot another Na’vi, but before he could reload, he groaned in pain loudly as a significantly smaller Na’vi came up and bit his hand. The soldier shook him off, casting the small body aside. It landed on all fours and hissed, preparing for another leaping attack.

“Child soldiers? Now that’s just fucked up,” the soldier spat, looking to Quadritch for orders while cradling his hand. Quadritch frowned. He attempted to reach for the kid, but the kid pounced, aiming straight for Quaritch’s arm. With a quick step, he dodged the bite and caught onto the kid’s clothing. That’s when he noticed the five fingers.

“This one’s an avatar, but he ain’t ours... We’re takin’ him.”

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story #miles socorro #miles quaritch

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Time moves slower when you stay in one place. Jake and Neytiri had set up a smaller, individual tent for Neteyam so that his treatments could be conducted in private. Neteyam’s eyes glazed over as he stared straight ahead. He was losing himself. His siblings came by once more that night to talk to him about their adventures wandering about the Olangi clan and their hunts. He smiled at the fact that they were enjoying themselves–distracting themselves from the worry and panic of losing Lo’ak in the storm–but he couldn’t just push away the envy of being unable to join them. He purposefully chose to stay behind when Kiri and Timi offered to bring him along in their adventures, just so that he wouldn’t pull them down. But out of all of them, it was his father who broke his trance as he walked into his tent with firewood in hand.

“She said she’d be back before the eclipse’s end, right? Are you alright here?”

“Yeah dad, I’m fine…”

Jake sensed a sense of unease in his son as he affectionately tousled his hair.

“You know if there’s anything bothering you, you can tell me or your mother, or your siblings. Timi, Kiri, and Tuk are very worried about you.”

“Yes I know. I do talk to them. How about Lo’ak’s search party? Did Akwey agree to it?”

“They’re set to ride at dawn. We’ll find him, so just focus on keeping up with the healer.”

“Thanks, dad.” As he bid his father goodnight, he spent a few moments alone with the pale moon as his only company. Then, just before sleep began to dig in, he noticed someone else’s presence.

“Neteyam?” A voice called out to him which made him whip his focus around to meet her eyes.

“Syrrah? I’m here.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, everyone has gone to bed already.”

“Shame… This is going to be a light show,” she said, entering the tent. She lowered the opening’s flap and placed her belongings beside Neteyam, allowing him a moment to inspect them. He looked at her with confusion. All she had brought in was a pouch and a bowl of some kind of ointment. She then reached over to grab the jug of water he had resting on his abdomen.

“May I kill the fire? I need complete darkness for this.” He blinked slowly, watching her curiously before reluctantly nodding. It was hard to read her facial expressions under her cloak’s hood. She took the lid off of the pouch and doused the fire, the smoke sending them into a fit of soft coughs. As soon as the shroud of darkness engulfed them with the faint moonlight dancing in their tent through the canvased walls, his irises grew to adjust until he could see her before him clearly. Her unique facial patterns glimmered in the dark – her eyes like two golden rings. Her wavy hair fluffed up as she took her cloak off to reveal her elegant figure. Her skin was a lighter blue than most and she had glowing marks all over her hands, legs, and abdomen.

“This is going to feel a little bit cold,” she said, breaking his trance. Once she had his full attention, she slowly applied the cool gel along all four of his limbs, his chest, and his abdomen. The gel was ice cold and slimy to the touch, almost as if a direhorse had licked him from head to toe. But he bit down on his tongue and let her work. Her hands worked deftly; there was no break between her movements, imitating the flow of water. This was all new to him even though he had been attended to by his grandmother back with the Omaticaya. Syrrah moved nothing like the usual Tsahik. Neteyam’s breath hitched in his throat with anxiety. He had no idea what to expect.

“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt. Are you ready?” She asked. He glanced towards her, his ears lowering submissively. Her gaze was striking and sharp – it almost rivaled the same look his mother had when she went hunting. He felt like she was trying to reach into his soul or the thread of Eywa within him.

“I am ready,” he replied, although the sound of his gulp said otherwise. Syrah’s brows furrowed for a moment, then relaxed as if to communicate that she would continue even if he wasn’t actually ready. He watched her reach out to the pouch she had brought in with her and she poured out its contents into an empty clay bowl. Gently, she handed it to him with the simple instruction: “Drink”. He bit his lip. He was nervous and he had the right to be, but at this point he was willing to try everything to better his situation. He stared at the odd liquid that moved more like syrup than water. Taking a deep breath, he brought the bowl to his mouth and consumed every last drop in one go.

He groaned at the feeling of the warm slime trickling down his throat.

“You’ll get used to it.” A muffled snicker escaped her as he shook his head with disgust.

“You mean I have to drink more of this stuff?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly, making him dread what was yet to come. He sighed and returned the bowl to her. Just then, a dim light pulsed a little ways outside his vision. His skin began to glow beneath the cold gel and he gasped in both awe and shock.

“Sweet Eywa,” he whispered. He lifted his arms up and watched as each and every vein in his limbs glowed. Waving his arms before him, he marveled at the tracks of light they left behind in the dark. He turned back to her and noticed that the aura around her had changed. From a serious and almost cold look, there was gleaming pride in her eyes; pride in her craft that allowed a slight smirk to form on her lips. That is until she gestured for him to settle down. Her smirk dissipated into her usual stoic look.

“The liquid you drank is made from the dew of scintillans. They are the glowing plants you see hugging our trees at night,” she explained as she traced the direction of his veins with her finger.

“The gel is made from the sap of the mother tree. The scintillans will only glow when close to the mother. My people believe that this relationship symbolizes the role of a mother to guide their lost children back into the light.”

As she spoke about the meaning behind this practice, Neteyam found himself overwhelmed with questions and wonder. Most of all, he found himself in a dreamlike state watching her work on him, her touch so soft but precise. The light that his body was giving off marked every pathway in his body, almost as if he was one with the forest on that calm night, and she was an explorer traversing it. It took his breath away. It even made him feel like they were connected for a moment. It was…

“Beautiful..” Neteyam cooed, not knowing that the thought was spoken aloud.

“Did you say something?” She stopped her movements and looked up at him.

“Uh, I mean,” he choked, “your work with herbs and plants… It’s a beautiful craft.”

Neteyam closed his eyes and prayed that she didn’t think anything of it before looking back at her. Syrrah squinted at him. His right eye twitched ever so slightly. It was then that she broke the awkward silence to say, “Yes, it is. You’re the first one outside of my clan to compliment it. Most of them find it odd.”

For some strange reason, Neteyam found himself smiling at her response. He had been expecting her to just ignore what he had said, but perhaps he was able to tickle her pride as a healer.

“Odd? Maybe because they do not understand the value of it.” She suppressed a smile.

“Perhaps.” Syrrah was a hard one to read. From the get-go, she would only say what needed to be said and nothing more, so her response threw Neteyam off. Maybe he could actually engage in conversation with her, after all. He was about to mention something else, but the words died on his tongue when she pointed towards his gunshot scar. He looked to where her finger pointed and saw the damage. Her work revealed a giant shadow in the pathways, the light pulsing a dimmer glow beneath and around the scar. This shadow ran down his chest and abdomen, revealing how the bullet had messed up the nerves from his waist down. There were what looked to be severed nerves: the source of the disconnect in his body.

“So this is where you got injured?” The question was heavy against her teeth.

“Yes,” he replied. His mood had fallen grim to the sudden change of focus.

“If I touch it, will it hurt?”

“No, it won’t…” Neteyam took a deep breath as he watched her gently press her palm over his scar. It served as a harsh reminder of what he had become after the altercation in the Metkayina territory, and the blessing of life that seemed more like a curse as each day passed. Her eyelids fluttered at the sight, the corner of her mouth tugging down.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through this. You have suffered a great deal to have survived,” she said. Her voice was soft and her ears tucked themselves backwards as if to show respect for all he had gone through.

“I have to live for my family… But at what cost,” he muttered. Holding his hand out in front of him, he suddenly began to hate the glowing paths that were testaments to his beating heart. He curled his fingers into his palm tightly. Syrrah took a deep breath before meeting his eyes with determination.

“I’ll do my best to heal you. I promise.” Her gaze on him was intense – a newfound fiery passion behind her irises. Neteyam gave her a tired smile.

“I’ll be in your care until then.”

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story #miles socorro #miles quaritch

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER FIVE

There was a sound akin to waves crashing onto the shore within Lo’ak’s skull. In the darkness behind his eyelids he was afloat, drifting away in that deafening sea. If that was death then… Maybe it wasn’t all that bad. That is, until the pain began. Starting as gentle pricks, his body tingled as if it were trying to remind him that yes, he did still have one. And the more he realized this, the faster the pain flared – his consciousness of it feeding its fiery blaze. It burned his arms and legs, eating at them, and just when he felt he couldn’t take it anymore –

“Be calm, be calm,” a panicked, accented voice rang through the void and his eyes finally shot open. His lungs felt as though there wasn’t enough air in all of Pandora to placate it. Gasping, he wildly looked around, terrified and lost. He tried to bring his arms up in front of him for protection, but the attempt sent a shock through his wrists and they stayed behind him. He looked down at his feet and a horrible realization dawned on him.

He was all tied up.

The Na’vi in front of him had some kind of slime on his left hand and a bowl of it in the other. It caught the moonlight and painted a ray onto his face – a face that seemed to reflect the same blue of night around him. There was no fire, no torch… Just the moonlight, and the Na’vi's glimmering eyes looked… Worried?

“Brother, be calm. Please –”

“Why are you calling him ‘brother’? This is no ‘brother’.” Another voice cut in and Lo’ak looked to the left to see a second Na’vi there, callously glaring at him. Behind him were two, huge dark shadows, each one with a pair of white pinpricks that focused on him. They were blurry at best and Lo’ak could not identify what exactly they were.

“You don’t know that,” the one in front of him replied to the blunt remark. Lo’ak tried to speak, but another wave of pain ran from his arms and a cry escaped him instead, writhing in the air. The Na’vi continued to slather the slime across Lo’ak’s right shoulder as he told him to not mind his friend. Apparently, he believed that Lo’ak was a Sky Person and refused to bring him back home unless he was restrained. The slime began to sink into Lo’ak’s skin and he seethed, the pain being almost unbearable.

“It hurts yes, but trust me. This heals quick. You’re in pretty bad shape, you know,” he continued. Tears ran from Lo’ak’s eyes, but bit by bit the burning dimmed, fading with every passing second. As his mind cleared, he noticed how the two Na’vi wore shrouds with satchels slung across their shoulders. The one in front of the two giant shadows seemed to even have a backpack of sorts as big as his torso.

“Where… Who are you?” Lo’ak asked. He had been propped up against a rock and for as far into the night as he could see, there was nothing but rocks. It was a wasteland. Barren and seemingly endless.

“I am Layaki. The one over there is Co’sai,” Layaki said. Co’sai huffed at the non consensual introduction.

“You are lucky, you know. If we had chosen to return home due to the rain, we would have not seen your Ikran fall. And your Ikran… He protected you, brother,” he finished. Lo’ak blinked at him in confusion, then like the lighting that struck him down, it all came back: the journey, the storm, Timi, the fall…

“Where is he? My Ikran?” He asked. His voice was sandy in his throat. Layaki’s long ears flexed downwards, his attention suddenly fixated on the way the slime stretched between his fingers. He only reiterated that the Ikran had protected him. Lo’ak shook his head and pressed for an answer. Layaki sighed.

“We saw you wrapped in its wings, through a great big hole that should not have been there. I’m afraid that he took most of the fall and it was too much,” he said. More tears streaked down Lo’ak’s cheek, lighting new pains that he felt deep within him. He looked over at Co’sai, but even the gruff Na’vi looked away with pity. He shook his head again. The inside of his cheek was raw between his molars. Exhaustion was creeping up to him once more, crawling into his body inch by inch. His eyes found it hard to focus on anything while the ache in his heart etched itself deeper into his chest.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked. His consciousness was slipping from him faster than an exhale.

“Weren’t you listening? ‘Home’, back to our people.”

“And who are your people?” He managed one final question, to which he managed to hear one final answer.

“The Anurai. The last of the Anurai.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Layaki was right – the slime had worked wonders. Application was hell on earth (three times a day, morning-noon-night), but by day three Lo’ak saw his wounds beginning to seal themselves up. His exhaustion simmered, too, to the point that he had been able to stay conscious long enough to talk Co’sai into letting his ankles free.

“I have nowhere to run, and your Oso’i will definitely not let me ride them alone,” he said. Co’sai was stubborn, but not stubborn enough to withstand hours of logical reasoning mixed with whining. Plus, he had figured that Lo’ak had at least two fractures in his right arm, one in his wrist and the other in his elbow; he wasn’t exactly in prime condition to fight anybody with an arm in a splint and sling.

“If anything, they will kill you if you try,” Co’sai said, cutting his ankles free. It was night once again and they were there in the dark, in the middle of eating their rationed meal of fish and meat. Lo’ak stood to stretch while he eyed the large shadows that sat behind their respective riders. When he had ridden behind Layaki over the last couple days, he had felt the Oso’i’s fur beneath him like tufts of a cloud. Their greyish-black color blended in with the plain of rocks. Instead of the usual speed of the Ikran, they moved slowly, like time meant nothing to them.

“The Sky People referred to the Oso’i as the Great Grey Bears. They are loyal to who they choose and are very prideful. If another Na’vi were to bond with one forcefully, they would feel as though they are trying to be owned,” Layaki explained. From behind Co’sai, his Oso’i turned its head to look at Lo’ak, its eyes beady and piercing. Lo’ak felt that it could see right through him.

“Speaking of, why are your hands like theirs?” Co’sai asked. The question was still laced with an accusation, but his voice was softer than what it was at first. Even his once hardened purple eyes had shifted into a calming lavender now that they were more acquainted. Lo’ak cleared his throat.

“Uh… Do you know of Toruk Macto? Of the Omaticaya?”

“Stories, yes,” Layaki replied.

“Like how he was a Sky Person once?”

“I still don’t understand that part,” Co’sai muttered. Lo’ak looked to the floor.

“Well, he is my father.” At that, both Na’vi looked at him, pieces of meat hanging from their mouths. Their ears pointed straight up into the night sky. Layaki began to stutter, trying to verbally make sense of what was just said. It was times like these that Lo’ak absolutely hated being a Sully. Co’sai’s hand lifted to the bone charm that hung around his neck.

“That means… You…”

“Have demon-blood,” Lo’ak finished for him. He’d heard it enough times – he didn’t want to hear it from someone else ever again. Suddenly, Co’sai began speaking to Layaki in a tongue that was not Na’vi. The words sounded like daunting music, hitting minors and sharps. Layaki replied in a smoother, lighter key, as if trying to even out the harshness of Co’sai’s tune. Lo’ak knew that all the clans had their native languages, but he was so used to the common Na’vi; hearing another language this far removed from his own made him feel a new kind of isolation.

“What?” Lo’ak asked, his eyes looking from one to the other. The only words he understood between them were ‘Toruk Macto’. Co’sai looked about ready to leave him to rot then and there.

“Your father is on the side of Eywa, yes?” Layaki finally switched back to speaking Na’vi. Lo’ak nodded eagerly.

“He rejected the Sky People and led attacks against them. He is with Eywa in this fight,” he said. Layaki looked at Co’sai, eyes communicating what words could not convey. A moment passed. Co’sai huffed.

“We’ll leave it to Rai’lu to decide what to do with you.” That was that. It was final; there was nothing Lo’ak could say to change his fate. His life was now in the sole hands of the Anurai’s Olo’eyktan. Defeated and shamed, Lo’ak sat back down.

“How long until we arrive?” He asked. Layaki sympathetically squeezed his shoulder.

“We will be there before high-sun tomorrow.”

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER FOUR

Jake wasted no time – he leaped off of Toruk as soon as its claws touched the ground and he rushed forward, eyes filled with fear. The Olo'eyktan of the Olangi, Akwey, stepped forward apprehensively, two of his best warriors at the ready behind him. A light brass medallion hung from his hair over his forehead, adding to the distinguished feather sash that adorned his chest. Jake sped through the formalities, his mouth running fast.

"Akwey, my brother, if you remember me my name is Jake Sully of the Omaticaya and now the Metkayina. My family is here to seek your aid if you would kindly accept us. Our eldest has lost all feeling in his legs and we seek a cure, but on our way here there was a storm. Our second son had fallen a two weeks' ride southeast from here. We tried searching from the skies once the storm had passed, but saw nothing but empty land. Please kindly aid us in our search for him and in healing our eldest, and we will forever be indebted to you."

Akwey stood tall. A thin, long piece of bone was pierced through his nose, extending past his cheekbones as if to guard his face. Around his neck was the bone of a direhorse hoof. The amber of his irises glimmered with thought as he looked at each of the Sullys.

"Of course I remember, Toruk Macto," Akwey began. His accented Na'vi sounded like a melting pot of cultures. He looked over at his wife by his side, seeking silent advice. She was also adorned with a feathered garment, the longest centerpiece the length of her torso. The beads in her hair glimmered with pinks of quarts and amethysts. As feminine as these things were, her eyes were sharp. Worn. Her shoulders were broad and strong. She looked at Jake as if she could see right through him. Then she nodded slightly at her husband.

"This is my wife, Tsahik Si'ia. We and the Olangi are happy to help in whatever way we can," he finished. Neteyam scanned the crowd as they spoke. Many of the members present were warriors; Na'vi with intricate face paints as well as the bones and skulls of the beasts they hunted as trophies. Some of them rode direhorses while the others patrolled the skies on Ikran, but as his eyes traveled from one individual to another, his gaze rested on an odd looking figure. A fully covered Na'vi with only their eyes seen from under a hood. They had a significantly smaller yet lankier stature compared to the warriors of the Olangi clan. The rest of their face was covered with a scarf and direhorse leather lined their shoulders. A simple beaded necklace sat on their chest and they were wearing those articles of clothing he had only seen on Sky People Avatars – shorts, they called it? Their gazes met for a moment and he could feel a strange aura coming from them–he couldn't tell what–but it greatly intrigued him.

"Though now, you must rest. You have just arrived from a great journey," Si'ia said. With a look over her shoulder, the warriors behind stepped forward to lead Jake and his family to a plot of land in which they could make their camp. Jake and Neteyri walked up to Neteyam, supporting most of their son's weight while the other children helped him keep his balance. Their son's legs fell limp from the Toruk's harnesses and swayed in the wind as they carried him. It was a sorry sight to see – someone so young, so helpless. The Olangi peeked out of their tents or looked up from their fires as they passed, captivated by the newcomers. The light that flickered across their faces made each of them daunting through the dark. Faces of a jury. Neteyam kept his eyes down. He couldn't bear to look at anyone. Once they had settled down, the strange Na'vi had been summoned to their tent.

"This is Syrrah, a great healer that was sent to us by Eywa through the Tawakami Clan. The Great Mother has blessed her with the knowledge of healing through the good earth. May she serve you well," one of the warriors said. Syrrah came forward, her hood still looming over her head so that nothing but her luminous yellow eyes were exposed. She bowed to show her respect to Toruk Makto, the fabled hero of the Omaticaya, as well as to his mate Neytiri and their children. There was a certain air that clung around her – her strange manner of dressing had Neteyam second guessing the nature of this Na'vi.

"The Tsahik will not come?" Neteyri asked. Kiri, Tuk, and Timi's ears perked from behind her. In matters of healing, it was always up to the Tsahik: the Na'vi's appointed direct line to Eywa. Not receiving the Tsahik... Neteyri's eyes grew accusingly, looking from the warrior to Syrrah. Desperate as she was, she would not stand for any disrespect. The warriors were quick to put their palms forward: 'be calm'.

"Please don't misunderstand. This Na'vi... Even the Tsahik will tell you that she can do more for your son than she can."

"Toruk Makto... It is an honour to be in your presence. I shall see to it that your son gets the best treatment that Pandora has to offer," Syrrah intervened. She bowed again, her gaze still and confident. Then she excused herself from them to make her way towards their son, who laid on a woven mat behind his parents. Kiri had a protective hand on his shoulder, her back slightly hunched as if to protect him somehow. Timi and Tuk sat on either side of her, staring at this brave stranger. Syrrah sat before them.

"Do not fear," she said. Kiri blinked nervously, but a spark in her eye betrayed her and showed a light of swirling questions. Someone more connected to Ewya than a Tsahik... Maybe she had the answers that Kiri longed for.

"Can you really help?" Timi asked, his voice small. Syrrah looked down at Neteyam, taking note of his anatomy and ailment in her mind.

"I will try," she said. One of the warriors cleared his throat.

"While she is taking a look at your son, Akwey has called for you and your wife. They would like to speak with you privately over a meal," he said. Jake and Neytiri tore their attention away from the healer as the warriors gestured forward. Following their lead, they reluctantly left their kids alone with Syrrah.

"Can I ask... How did this happen?" Syrrah spoke gently, now pulling her hood off to reveal her wavy and unkept hair to the children. Neteyam exchanged looks with his siblings - a wave of uneasiness washing over them.

"We got into a pretty bad fight with the Sky People... Neteyam was trying to rescue our other brother, Lo'ak," Kiri said. Syrrah nodded slowly as she ran her fingers along Neteyam's lifeless legs and noticed how icy they were; blood flow was cut off somewhere.

"Will he get his legs back?" Tuk asked with enthusiasm in her voice.

"Well, I do have my work cut out for me," Syrrah admitted.

"Don't pressure her, guys. Take your time... Syrrah, right?" Neteyam spoke in a tired voice. He brought himself to look at her at last, but when their eyes met his gaze faltered, glancing away before it steadied itself on her. He wasn't used to being stared at so intently. Syrrah nodded and smiled meekly at him before placing her palm on his abdomen to feel his breathing. She noticed that he suddenly began to hold his breath. She glanced up at him, amused.

"Just breathe normally," she said. Kiri squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as he breathed out slowly. Syrra looked off into the distance, like she could visually see the flow of his breath in front of her as he shifted beneath her hand. Then, she withdrew it.

"I'll come again later. There's something I want to try before night's end," Syrrah said. She slowly stood, lips pressed together in thought.

"Alright," Neteyam said. Doubt was laced in the word.

"Don't worry, it's not scary," she teased. It caught him off guard, but she seemed genuine. Genuine, but odd. Her body markings were not as familiar as those back home: they looked like warrior paint that had never faded. Her clothes would make anyone think she was an Avatar, but her four fingers proved her pure Na'vi blood. And there, in her smile, was a line that revealed a sense of excitement. Whether it was for the challenge of his condition or meeting the family of Toruk Macto, he couldn't tell.

"Is anything the matter?" He had been staring a moment too long. He adamantly shook his head.

"N-no I'm fine..." She raised a brow, then simply reassured them that she wouldn't be away for long. Neteyam watched her until she disappeared in the distance, still trying to wrap his head around how the Olangi's Tsahik entrusted this Na'vi more than herseld. It was when Timi was absolutely sure that she could not hear that he spoke.

"She scares me," he declared. Just like that, the children laughed, forgetting their worries and uncertainties for a brief moment.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER TWO

The skies of Pandora were brilliantly bright and the Sullys flew like artisan brushes against the backdrop of the snow white clouds. Below them rolled the fluorescent greens, pinks, and purples of the forests and grasslands that petered out into sand, then open sea. Lo’ak flew higher and spun his Ikran with Timi’s yips and hollers filling the air.

“Again, again,” the boy cheered. Lo’ak grinned – he loved showing off. How about this one, he thought with a smirk. His Ikran swiftly folded its wings tightly to its body and they soared without them for a moment–completely free–until little by little the Ikran began to shift into a nosedive. Timi screamed as they exponentially gained momentum, the water rushing to meet them. The wind was fast through their hair, whipping their faces. Lo’ak squinted, waiting for the perfect moment, and – thwip! The Ikran unfurled its wings right above the waves, its feet grazing the surface. The white froth sprayed onto Timi’s kicking legs. He gleefully threw his voice out into the air and Lo’ak joined in his call from behind. Looking up, their family was still there, high above them in their V formation. Lo’ak focused on his spot at the left end of the V and his Ikran flapped mightily, going higher and higher until he slid back into place.

“Don’t waste your energy,” Kiri called out.

“You worry too much,” Lo’ak replied, then leaned down to let Timi know that Kiri was just jealous at how much fun they were having.

The family stopped every nightfall for dinner and rest, setting up camp at any safe-seeming nook and cranny. Once morning broke, they would set off once more. For the first week, everything was smooth – they followed what they knew of the Olangi track, keeping an eye out for any signs of the travelling people. But on the ninth day, the dark clouds of a storm brewed around them. Jake shot a worried look over at Neteyri who, with determination in her eyes, nodded; they could push through. They soldiered on, through the rumbling thunder and the lightning as it shot streaks of startling silver through the darkening skies.

Then the wind picked up, the rain fell heavy, and the thunder clapped right above them. The wings of their Ikrans shook to and fro, fighting with all their might to not get swept away. Neteyri yelled out commands, not even sure if her words were loud enough to be heard. Neteyam held onto his father so tightly that Jake's waist would be bruised the next day. Kiri whispered a prayer to Eywa. Timi hung onto Lo’ak’s forearms, knuckles white and ears down in fear. Lo’ak clenched his jaw. The rain stung his face and despite wearing his visor the water still found a way into his eyes. Thunder reverberated in his skull and –

“Lo’ak!” Timi yelled as the Ikran sharply bucked to the left. The force of the lightning threw Timi up into the air and there was no time to think. Instinct kicked in – Lo’ak yelled for the boy as he quickly stood on the back of his Ikran, removed his bond, and ran along its body, reaching for the boy's airborne hand. His fingers just barely managed to wrap around his wrist when he called out, “Kiri!” It was now or never. His Ikran was beginning to lose altitude and Kiri was getting smaller and smaller. Holding tightly to Timi’s wrist, he used the momentum to swing him around, and aiming straight for Kiri, he released. Timi flew through the rain, spinning and screaming until, "I got you!" Kiri, with outstretched arms, caught the boy and pulled him to her chest.

Both Timi and Kiri disappeared from view as Lo'ak began free-falling. His Ikran screeched for him, its wings weak against the winds. He dived, his blood hammering through him almost as loudly as the storm. Then, holding onto the back of the Ikran for dear life, he shut his eyes and waited for the end.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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hayalovay · 2 years

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PROLOGUE

If there is one thing we learned during our time with the Metkayina, it is that this war is not going to stop. The Sky People will keep coming, and coming, and coming until they either get what they want... Or we get it through to them that Pandora is ours. That they are not welcomed. At least, not anymore. We stayed a while longer with the Metkayina to help Tonowari and Ronal rebuild the destruction we brought with us to show our gratitude for their hospitality, and for fighting with us instead of throwing us out to fend for ourselves. The Sky People have retreated to their home base on Pandora, but like a beast in hibernation, they will wake. Soon. Now that I finally understand that running will get us nowhere–that danger will always find us somehow–it was time to begin planning. Building. It was time to return home.

Our eldest, Neteyam, seemed to recover from the bullets he took out there at first, but as the days passed, his legs stayed numb. I never knew a pain so intense as seeing your own child suffer the exact same thing you did so long ago. I couldn't save him from it. And looking at him was a mirror into my own past that I had almost forgotten. However, on our way back to the Omaticaya, we found Timi and Neteyam began smiling again.

We were hunting in the forest near where the old Home Tree was when I saw one of the most intricate little hunting traps that I had ever seen. Then the more I looked, the more of them I saw. Everywhere. Some big enough to catch something the size of a rabbit and others small enough for a toad. These woods had been vacant last time I was around, and I needed to know who it was that had made this their new home. The trees were great for a stakeout.

Once the eclipse came, that's when I saw him.

He crawled on all fours to each trap, examining each one for prey before resetting them after he had tucked the catch into his little leaf satchel. I couldn't believe it – he was even smaller than our youngest, Tuk. But with the shape of his tail and the patterns on his body, there was no doubt: he was one of us. I jumped down into the fauna below and he scuttled back, hissing at me like a viperwolf pup. Then the moment I spoke in our language, he froze. He almost couldn't believe it. He leapt into my arms full of tears: he had been all alone for a long time. Turns out his parents had run away during the fall of our Home Tree and were separated from the clan. Lost, yet with hope, they made a new home in a nearby grove and by the Great Mother, had him. Timi. When he was only four, they went to hunt... and that was the last he saw of them alive. He found their bodies a week later, mauled and almost unrecognizable. He spent the next two years alone with nothing but the knowledge they had left in him. I brought him with me and for Neytiri and the kids, it was love at first sight. He was dubbed the fifth Sully and the Omaticaya rejoiced in the return of one of their own.

Timi kept Neteyam company with the stories of his life alone in the forest and of the simplicity of his home when his parents were alive. In return, Neteyam told of all that happened between the fall of Home Tree and where we are now. He laughs with Timi. For that alone I am forever grateful that he is ours. The girls, Kiri and Tuk, were thrilled to have a new baby brother; a new sibling to share everything with. Spider also took to him with ease and for moments it is as if he were a kid again, tugging on tails and playing tag. As for Lo'ak, well, he's still learning how to be an older brother.

"Patience, Lo'ak," Neteyam says.

Lo'ak always rolls his eyes.

It's now time to think bigger – grander. The Sky People need to lose to the point that they would rather never return than try us again. And Neytiri, as much as I hate it, is right: none of us can run, so all of us must fight.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER TEN

A warm gust of wind brushed against the back of Lo’ak’s hand, stark against the cool breeze that flew in from the cutout in the room’s wall. There was barely any sunlight where he was – just varying degrees of night. He shifted slightly in his sleep, his brain groggy and unable to tell how long it’s been dreaming. The warm gust blew again and his consciousness was pulled up from the dark with it. He opened his eyes and the sight before him almost knocked him out of bed.

A girl had been crouched by him, her attention focused on the hand that was once limp over the side of the cot and now drawn back to his chest. Her pale grey eyes squinted at him as she stood up.

“You are Na’vi… but not Na’vi,” she said. Her head tilted itself to the right as if the different angle would make things clearer for her. Lo’ak pushed himself up and pressed his back against the leather wall, unsure of how to proceed with yet another stranger. Two braids twisted on either side of her face to loop back behind her ears, kept together by a variety of beads. A sculpted bone charm hung from a choker around her neck over a delicate chain that had a dewy pearl at its center. He hesitated before he told her that he was pure Na’vi… ‘technically’. She suddenly lowered herself and took his hand, outstretching his fingers with her thumbs. Lo’ak’s breath snagged itself on her touch.

“Then how? How are your hands like theirs?” She studied the lines of his palm, completely mystified. Lo’ak’s lips parted, his words failing him. He searched her face, from the corners of her mouth to the bone of her brow, yet there was nothing. No hate, no fear. Just pure wonder.

“Cal’lei.” Rai’lu’s voice boomed from the doorway and Cal’lei sprang up, dropping Lo’ak’s hand like a hot coal. She spun around towards the doorway and lowered her head.

“Father,” she said. She stood tall and straight, lifting her chin after the greeting. Lo’ak glanced from Cal’lei, to Rai’lu, then back again. Their skins were reflections of one another, their ears with the same lobes, but her eyes… Her eyes were definitely from her mother. Rai’lu frowned. He spoke in their native tongue in some kind of soft minor tone with his jaw set. Cal’lei attempted to reply, but he cut her off to say, “No. Go,” in Na’vi. Her ears dropped, but her straight stature remained. With a nod, she walked slowly past her father. Once behind him, she glanced at Lo’ak once more before disappearing into her room.

Lo’ak stumbled onto his feet.

“That is my daughter, Cal’lei. She returned with the hunters earlier today,” Rai’lu said. Quite reluctantly. Lo’ak awkwardly glanced to the side, not knowing what exactly he was supposed to reply with. Rai’lu then continued to tell him that she was his only child; the named succeeding Olo’eyktan and Tsahik.

“Aren’t there supposed to be two? One Olo’eyktan and one Tsahik?”

“Does it appear to you that we have the ability to do so?”

Lo’ak made a mental note: do not ask Rai’lu questions. Taking a deep breath–Lo’ak was obviously trying his nerves–he went on to say, “As my successor, it is her responsibility to watch over you when I cannot.” The man’s eyes then betrayed a flash of worry as Lo’ak nodded. He thought for a moment, trying to sift through what should and should not be said.

“Make no trouble. Understood?” It was all Rai’lu could muster.

“Understood, sir,” Lo’ak replied.

---------------------------------------------

Cal’lei walked a few steps ahead of Lo’ak as they left the house. Her haphazardly cut hair tapered to a point at the base of her neck and moved with the breeze. A long, thinned bone was flush against her spine, kept there by a piece of leather that wrapped around the top half of her torso. She had a band fitted around her left bicep that held what looked like sharpened rocks and her dagger was kept in a band around her right thigh. Her thin tail swished to and fro between the leather tassels that hung from her hips. But aside from the strange Anurai clothing, what struck Lo’ak most as he watched her was the way she walked. Not like a man, not like a woman… She walked as if the earth lovingly moved for her beneath her feet and her every step was a quiet ‘thank-you’.

“How are you going to hear me if you’re all the way back there,” she asked, turning her head ever so slightly towards him. Lo’ak mumbled an apology as he quickened his step. He found himself flustered, not knowing how to act. They looked the same age and she had to raise her head to look at him, yet something about her made him feel as though he had to show her the same level of respect he did with her father. He made sure to keep some distance between them as they began to walk up the wicker bridge.

“Lo’ak, who are you?” She looked up at him, her gaze soft and unfaltering. Lo’ak thought back to when Rai’lu had asked him the same question and decided against his original answer.

“I am a warrior from the Omaticaya and the Metkayina,” he replied. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Metkayina? The water people?” Her regal air dissipated as she stood there speechless. Lo’ak almost tripped when turning to face her.

“Yes…?” Then, as if catching herself, she pressed her lips together and regained her composure.

“A story for a different time,” she said.

They walked until they reached the middle of the village, a large stone platform extending from either side of the cliff so that the wicker bridge was only a yard or so wide between them. There were more Na’vi now than he recalled yesterday, even if it was just the difference of a handful. Cal’lei sang a pair of notes, receiving the same ones in reply by all who heard. There were a few men among those that they walked towards and even fewer teenagers like themselves. There was a large table fashioned out of stone and bone, holding an array of animals that were slain during the hunt.

“This is the one that Co’sai spoke of?” One of them asked, a man that looked to come from the same generation as Rai’lu. There was a ghost of a scowl behind his lips. Cal’lei purposely replied in their native tongue, first speaking directly to the one that asked, then to the rest of them. The different teens looked away whenever Lo’ak managed to catch their stares.

“Come, we shall help prepare the meat for storage,” Cal’lei said, gesturing for Lo’ak to follow her to one end of the table.

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them to leave you be and that you are harmless. At least, with one of your arms all wrapped up like that you are.” Lo’ak looked around the table as the others began to take out their knives and cleavers, all fashioned from bone and rock. Only the young Na’vi allowed themselves to steal glances at him. Holes had been made in a center line down the length of the table and it was only then that Lo’ak noticed that the surface was not flat – there was a slight decline towards the holes. Cal’lei passed him a knife.

“Just follow me, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied. Then, as Cal’lei taught him, she explained the strange custom.

The terrain the Anurai lived in was scarce with wildlife. The Barrens were often where creatures came to die, not to live. If a hunter were to head to the nearest mountain or nearest sea, it would take a day of straight travel there and longer to return. A system had to be made. Therefore, the Anurai were divided into two categories: hunters and fishermen. When the hunters were off to the mountains, the fishermen rested and worked in the village. Upon the hunters return, there were two days of rest for both parties before the fishermen left for the sea. Each return would mean a day of preparation where the returning party properly skinned, chopped, and wrapped their rations with the proper natural preservatives and organized them in sealed wicker baskets. The resting party would be in charge of cooking the Return Feast for the evening.

The entire process made Lo’ak’s face green with nausea. Rivers of blood from each Na’vi’s station ran to the ocean of crimson in the center and he felt ready to heave out his entire stomach. He set down his knife and clutched the edge of the table, conflicted between inhaling deeply to calm himself and holding his breath to avoid the avid stench of rusted copper. Cal’lei paused her work and looked at him, her brow furrowing.

“What’s the matter?” She asked.

Lo’ak shook his head.

“He does not look very well,” another Na’vi commented.

“Lo’ak–” Cal’lei touched his wrist with her bloodied fingers and he could not hold it in any longer. He rushed to the free edge of the platform, faced the abyss, and puked out whatever he had in his stomach. The teenagers burst into laughs, cracking jokes in their own language to spare Lo’ak at least a portion of embarrassment. Cal’lei shot them a look with a low hum to quiet them down, but suppressed her own smile once her back was turned. She had never seen such a visceral reaction – had only heard about it in stories of when the Sky People still lived among them. She wiped her hands as best as she could against the cliff face and patted Lo’ak’s back.

“Maybe you should not help after all,” she said.

“No, I can do–” Lo’ak heaved again.

“Your stomach seems too weak.” This time it was hard for her to keep her laughter hidden. Lo’ak dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and shot her a look, ready to defend himself with an edged remark, but the words never came. Cal’lei simply looked as though he were a child that merely fell down in an attempt to take his first step. He turned to see the other Na’vi behind him, whose faces grinned much differently.

“Nevermind this, we can help cook the feast tonight instead. Okay?” She moved slightly to catch his eyes. He smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds way more my speed,” he replied.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story #miles socorro #miles quaritch

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER THREE

A long flight was never a good sign. If anything, it reminded Neteyam of their journey to the Metkayina clan after fleeing the forest – trying, long, and filled with fear of rejection. It wasn’t sitting well with him, but his parents were determined to fly out and find the Olangi clan as fast as they could for his own sake. When the storm clouds brewed on the ninth day, Neteyam frowned with unease.

“Dad, maybe it’s better if we waited for the storm to pass…” He voiced his concern, but Jake only reassured him that the faster they found them, the faster they would know if he could be helped. It wasn’t the rain that was a problem to Neteyam; it was the wind and the ferocious thunder trailing behind them each time their Ikrans gained momentum. He was strapped in tightly and trusted his father enough in his flying abilities, yet he couldn’t help but look down worriedly to see the storm intensifying, descending down from above them the earth below. It was in these moments he found himself cursing at his weaknesses – they shouldn’t be going through this journey once again, not for his sake. As he wallowed in his own anxieties, the sound of his mother’s voice struggling to get through the storm to his other siblings snapped him out of it. He strained an ear, but none of his siblings replied to his mother’s calls.

“Lo’ak!? Kiri!? Timi!?” Worry and panic strung through his voice as he began to thrash around, distracting Jake’s Ikran mid-flight.

“Steady Neteyam,” Jake said. He pushed the com on his neck.

“Neytiri, do you have a visual on them?” Jake gestured for his son to stop moving too much and signalled for his wife to check if everything was alright.

It was not.

“Ma Jake, Lo’ak, he’s—” A loud thunder clapped and muted his wife’s words as it caused his Ikran to fly erratically. Jake, with his own heart racing, struggled to keep calm and forge on in a steady pace.

Neteyam’s thoughts were cursing loudly at the way everything was turning out, all for the sake of bringing his legs back to life. Would things have been different had the bullets hit him higher during the battle back at the oceans of the Metkayina territory? If he was dead, would his parents have been more careful? He shook his head. It was too late for regret – he needed to be strong and pray that Eywa still had a plan for Lo’ak, and that despite his thick skull, he was somehow in Her good graces. He prayed She would do anything and everything to keep his brother safe.

The family found a cave below to wait out the storm after realizing that they had lost Lo'ak. Once the flurry had passed over, during the dawn of the next morning, they flew out separately and went in circles, searching the ground for any sign of him. They searched non-stop until the eclipse.

“We won’t find him like this, Neteyri,” Jake said. The kids had fallen into an anxious, exhausted sleep while Jake and Neteyri kept watch. Worry etched itself into the sides of Jake’s eyes. Neteyri’s watered.

“I’m scared, Jake,” she whispered. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head into his chest.

“He’ll be alright. With the Olangi’s help we’ll find him in no time,” he said. A half-wish and a half-prayer to Eywa.

It was two more weeks of flying until they caught sight of what looked to be the campsite of the Olangi clan. Neteyam glanced over the side of Toruk and saw that it seemed less like a home and more like a temporary settlement – they were nomads after all. At the sight of their Ikrans, horns blew to signal the arrival of strangers and, like ants, the Na’vi below scampered to prepare themselves. Neteyam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What does the good mother have in store for him now? Will he get his legs back? Or will he forever be the burden of his family?

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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hayalovay · 2 years

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CHAPTER ONE

Lo'ak heaved another weapons case onto the back of his father's Ikran, tying knot after knot to secure it. The small fire lit in the center of their cave crackled in the Hallelujah Mountains and casted flickering shadows all over the rocky walls. The animal was warm under Lo'ak's palm, its breath great enough to shake his bones. Its skin glimmered. He fished out some meat from a tied sack and dragged his arm down the neck of the beast, clicking his tongue. The Ikran shook in anticipation.

"That's a good boy," Lo'ak said. He held out his offering and the great mouth lapped it up, leaving nothing behind as it sliced the slab into pieces with its razor sharp teeth.

"Aren't those our rations," Kiri asked, her arms full of things she had to tie to her own Ikran. Lo'ak shrugged and told her that their father had overpacked–as per usual–and that taking a bit wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Isn't that right, Toruk?" The beast let out a huff that blew through Kiri's hair. She sighed.

"Just don't let dad see, I guess." Lo'ak looked over to his father at the other end of their camp, whose head was down with hands finalizing a seat made especially for Neteyam.

"He's too busy to notice," he said.

Jake pulled hard on the leather ropes that wrapped around either side of the wicker chair to ensure that they would not come loose. His eyes scrutinized every inch of it, leaving nothing up for error. Neteyri watched him and eyed the tightness in his jaw. She placed a slender hand on his shoulder.

"It is enough, Ma Jake." He shook his head.

"It's going to be a long journey. I have to make sure it'll last," he said. Neteyri bent down and placed her forehead against his temple. Jake closed his eyes, focusing on the soothing pressure of the gesture.

"We will not know until we are out there. If it breaks, we will fix it."

Dawn began to stream in through the mouth of their cave. Kiri finished fastening the last of their things and Lo'ak looked out into the sky, watching the colors seep into the morning. He was going to miss this. The sound of the waterfalls, the cries of wild Ikrans... His Omaticaya brothers and sisters scattered through the mountains and a short flight away... He wondered if the rest of his life would be like this – returning home only to leave it again so soon.

"It's sad, I know," Kiri said from behind him. He turned to her, catching the tears in her brilliant green eyes. Usually he did not show much affection towards his siblings. He got on Kiri's nerves more often than the times they got along, but this was a great sadness that was shared. A hug was in order. He walked to her and brought her into one. After a moment, he pulled away.

"I'll wake the others." Wiping her eyes, Kiri nodded and let him go.

Tuk tucked her head beneath the cloth and Timi's tail whipped at Lo'ak's hand as he tried to wake them from their sleep. Mumbles from the both of them begged for ten more minutes, no, five more minutes and their ears twitched tiredly. With a mischievous grin, Lo'ak grabbed hold of their cloth and ripped it from them in a single yank. The two cried out at the nip of the cold air.

"Lo'ak, no!" Tuk whined, eyes still half-closed while she attempted to grab the cloth back. Laughing, Lo'ak held it up over his head.

"It's time to hit the road, guys." The two continued to gripe until Neteyri came to Lo'ak's rescue.

"Children," she warned. The two exchanged glances, then sighed in resignation. Lo'ak passed the cloth to his mother–they were her problem now–and walked over to Neteyam's mat.

"Te. Te get up, we're about to go," he said. He gently shook his brother's bare shoulder. Neteyam's lids smoothly slid up, as though he hadn't really been sleeping. Lo'ak frowned. Neteyam's thoughts were racing so fast that his irises went back and forth to keep up.

"Do you... Do you really think that the Olangi can help me?" Lo'ak looked over at his brother's legs, limp beneath the cloth. Out of all the clans, they were headed for the Olangi first as they had been all over Pandora; their collective knowledge of both the Na'vi and the planet was so vast that at times, they themselves could not keep up. They would be sure to know all the remedies that laid beneath the sun. The bullets really did their damage, but their mother still had hope that it could be reversed. If their mother hoped, Lo'ak felt it meant that healing was possible.

"If there's anyone who can, it's them," Lo'ak said. His brother looked up at him in doubt and he had to fight to hide the guilt that sat in his stomach.

"Okay. Help me up," Neteyam said. He stretched his arms out and Lo'ak grabbed hold of his wrists, gently pulling his upper body. Meanwhile, Jake was strapping the wicker seat to the back of Toruk. Kiri quickly went to help Lo'ak lift Neteyam up the way they'd been taught: grab onto each other's forearms to create a seat, support Te's back with the other hand, and let him balance himself with an arm around both of your shoulders. At first they struggled, but now it was almost second nature to the three of them. They brought Te up to Toruk and Jake gingerly took him, sitting him down on the wicker seat. Te's legs dangled on either side of the beast, his back against the make-shift chair. Jake took the leather ropes and looped them around Te and the chair over and over.

"That's a little tight, dad," Te said as he tied the final knot.

"Better safe than sorry, kiddo," he winked.

Lo'ak heaved Timi up onto his Ikran and hopped on behind him. The boy sleepily let himself fall flat against the Ikran's neck, his arms wraping tight around it.

"Wake me up when we get there," he grumbled. Lo'ak made the bond with his braid and flapped the Ikran's wings.

"Sullys, ready?" Jake called out. He glanced behind him on either side while they all yipped in reply. Then, one after the other, they launched themselves out of the cave, diving down into the misty clouds below before catching the wind beneath their wings, and glided towards the Olangi's usual path around Pandora.

#avatar #jakesully #justiceforourboyneteyam #loak #loaksully #metkayina #neteyam #neteyamsully #neteyri #omaticaya #originalcharacters #pandora #thewayofwater #story

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