AVATAR TWOW: Torn between the 2

Chapter VI| Homesickness

A O' N U N G
Homesickness
PT2

EVERY NA'VI SUFFERS from homesickness. At least once in their life. I just so happen to experience it a ton in such a few days.

I'm only deluding myself when I say this; out loud in hopes to comfort my painful heart. No Na'vi ever leaves their home. Their home is sacred. Their forever.

I sometimes roll on the dirt, twist, and squirm, trying to find peace in this unfamiliar land. I try to find comfort in the smallest things this caged place has to offer. The pond is one of them—it's a sense of relief for me.

Sometimes I curl myself and cry. Sometimes I stare at the emptiness of this place and I realize how I may never get back to Awa'atlu.

Sometimes I lay and face the sky, sorting out the constellations that Tsireya and mother find great interest in. I never understood it, until now. They're comforting. I've found mine a couple of times.

Today is rather dour. My tears are stained upon my cheeks, and I sniffle. I'm facing the pond, staring at my pitiful reflection in need of the comfort of my swelled-up heart. My world is spinning, and I'm dozing off, drowning in my fault and...

Hands grasp my shoulders. "Boo!" They yell.

I hastily turn, my neck snapping the fastest ever, and shove their grip off during the moment. 

I am shaking with ragged breathing. My senses are stricken and I realize it's Neteyam I'm goggling at. I am somewhat at ease. But I see his slight frown.

"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching for my chin. His thumb caresses my cheek and I stare with ponder and hesitancy. I think for a minute, and later nuzzle into his warm touch.

"What's wrong?" He repeats, his voice soothing and soft, threatening to doze me to sleep. I shake my head and smile forlornly. He embraces me, pressing my hefty frame against his lithe one. I wrap my hands around his back and nuzzle my nose into his shoulder.

"I miss home," I mumble, my tail rocking slowly.

He plays with my bun and doesn't say anything for what seems like two eclipses.

"Ao'nung, look at me," He croons after some time. He pushes me off his shoulder and I look at him with my dull and grey eyes.

"I don't..." His voice chokes. His teeth grind on his lower lip, and he leans forward with shut eyes. His forehead is a millimeter away from touching mine.

"I'm trying," He breathes, and I can tell he's distressed. I clack my forehead with his. He opens his eyes and I stare into his gape. I don't look away this time. My eyes linger there, staring at his greenish and yellowish void. I see my tiny reflection and I swirl upon those tan ripples, upon those dilated pupils. His eyes are bigger than mines—doe-like.

His eyes are frowning and I almost want to laugh out loud from the painful twist of my heart. It's not an excruciating pain where my knees and body feel like giving out, but a tickling pain that makes my heart thump with a hysterical rhythm. It hurts. It tickles. It makes my stomach tickle with sorrowful laughter.

"I'm glad you're here. Thank you," I whisper, my lips lightly smiling. "Just so you know I had to cut the sad moment short because I wouldn't wanna see your big fat tears," I say with jest.

"My big fat tears you say," He laughs shakily.

I nod, "Yes, your big fat tears. You forest Na'vi are really sentimental from what I hear."

"Who says?"

"My dad. The old man never lies."

He doesn't respond. Instead, his eyes wander around my face. He does that a lot.

I blink a lot, not knowing what to feel but that swirling gentle caress inside my stomach.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asks with demand. I dart my gaze to the side and shut my lips silent. There's that guiltiness that shoots up my body, and my ears go sad.
He sighs and scoots far, motioning to his lap.

"C'mere," He says. I laugh nervously and shake my head. It's not needed, I want to say.

"Neteyam, don't be—"

"Lap. Now," He snarls, and yet again, I can't tell if he's being serious or not.

"But—"

"Ao'nung, don't make me get you by your queue," He threatens.

My stomach winces, and my face almost shudders. I refrain from imagining the probable shooting pang my queue might experience. I crawl and rest my head on his lap without further thought.

"It isn't so bad now, is it?" He grins, laughing a little. I roll my eyes, and roll on my side, shielding my eyes away from his gape. I play with the fabric of his loincloth, uncaring of his constant ordering of me to sleep.

"I'll leave later, is that ok?"

"Yeah..." I croak, squirming just a bit. I stare at my fiddling hands, drifting with ideas about what to do to entertain me when Neteyam leaves. His fingers play with the tie of my bun, tugging at it.

"When do you normally have it loose?"

"When I sleep, but you're here..." I mumble. It was supposed to be a jab, but it doesn't come out that way from my drowsy voice.

"What do you mean I'm here?" He asks.

"I don't want you seeing it. It looks bad...a mess...like a nest."

"C'mon, it can't be that bad, Fish lips."

"If it weren't for sleep, I would've smacked you for that sorry-ass nickname by now."

"Yeah. Sure," He says.

One thing I detest about myself is how light of a sleeper I am. I had dozed off completely in what would be a slumber—but when Neteyam cradled my head and took me off his lap, my heart shattered, because it meant that he is leaving and I would awake to be alone.

And when he's gone, I open my lidded and puffy eyes. The dirt isn't as comfortable as his lap. My hands got nothing to entertain but those grains of rocks of the soil. His hands aren't massaging my scalp, and I find that I like his grip better than Tsireya's. Maybe it's because I'm chasing asleep and feel vulnerable, but his manly hold, his firm grip on my head that one would never mistake for a woman's—

His long fingers cover more than half my face. How they caress my curls and how they grasp my face without hesitation—places I would never allow my friends to touch. Family included. My mother often caresses my cheeks, but it's warm and full of familial love.

Neteyam is weird. He's a set Na'vi, I can see. His touches convey that. He doesn't care who I am, he will touch me the same—like he and I have known each other for years. It's intimate, and I'm not used to it. I'm reserved, close to only a few.

And yet again, maybe it's because I need comfort, but Neteyam is some Na'vi I want to get to know. I look past his demon blood.

21