AVATAR TWOW: Torn between the 2

Chapter ii| Blooming

N E T E Y A M
Blooming
PT3

MY SIBLINGS AND I tail behind Ao'nung. He escorts us throughout the village; points here and there and elucidates customs and traditions. We trek through the tan webs that connect all Maruis; our steps awkward to not get our toes caught in those holes.

Every Metkayina is diligent with baskets of fruits and ornaments, parts of clothing, clams, and nets. A few swims beneath us, their bodies rocking; hips going side to side.

Our cobalt blue stands out by an awful lot, and as we walk, some halt their duties to stare at us with curiosity. Some with dread.

A little boy runs to us—toward Tuktirey, who springs on her feet, and runs to him too—but the boy is quickly yanked back by his mother. Tuktirey's arms falter and her elation is sucked away from her doe eyes as her ears drop.

Ao'nung darts the woman a glare. She wilts her head with shame, yet she still clasps onto her child tightly. The boy only watches, his baby blue eyes blank.

"Brother!" Tsireya calls from the sidelines. She sports a charming beam as she nears, three other Metkayinan women behind her, whose waves of laughter are cut short.

They all cradle a basket of shells; pearly and glimmering ones, varying in polished colors, and well sturdy shape. They're for making necklaces, anklets, and collars, I suppose.

Lo'ak steps from behind and leaps just a teeny bit forward.

"Hello, Tsireya," He says, bowing his head.

The woman smiles, her dimples sharp. I notice her friends exchange discreet glances, before they look forward again, their eyes blank.

My ears twitch as I feel a burn of eyes, drilling into me. I turn and see one of the three women, staring at me. She doesn't blink and it's as if she's astounded by my being.

I offer her a vague smile and nod my head toward her. She quickly turns away and finally blinks and I see that freaky layer once more. Except that it doesn't bother me this time as it's part of the Metkayina anatomy.

"Did you guys like your Marui?" Tsireya asks, her eyes set on Lo'ak, despite talking to all of us. Lo'ak grins coyly and peers at her with his sharp golden eyes.

"...Yeah, it's nice," He says. He almost stutters.

"I'm glad. Feel at home. If there's anything you guys need, just ask us," She giggles.

Ao'nung nods his head and my ears jerk, having seen him from the corner of my eyes. I look at him—even when he opens his mouth and moves his lips to talk with Tsireya.

I am hyper-aware of him; his every action, his every word. I can't shake off my astound, finally having him back in my arms. After all these years which felt like the torment of doubt and loss—he's grown into a fine man. My man.

I gape at the side of his face, my eyes a-daze. My ears are muffled, yet I still somewhat pick up on the conversation:

"Where are you heading to?" Tsireya asks.

"I'll show them around, give them a little knowledge. We can show them the Ilu pen, and sacred cove tomorrow," Ao'nung replies.

Tsireya hums. "Can I join you guys later?"

All of us nod, primarily Lo'ak, who's still goggling at her like she's a priced possession. I see them make eye contact for brief seconds, before she turns and cocks her head to her friends, signaling it is time to depart.

They walk past us. Lo'ak pivots instantly and watches as Tsireya's back becomes smaller and smaller, merging into the turquoise mob—until he can't see her anymore.

But as they walked, that one girl turns back, and looks at me in the eyes. Her stare is chilling; heavy and cold. Hankering. I swat my head away, not wanting to indulge in her stares.

My eyes swim up Ao'nung and his hefty arms and legs, forgetting briefly where I am at the moment; exposed and in openness.

"They are the hunters," Ao'nung chimes, pointing over the far distance where tall and muscular men are, swinging their daggers back and forth into the glistening water. Few fling nets left and right. Some nets are empty and some are knotted with fish.

It reminds me of my early childhood, in which I had pierced my first prey: a fish with my bow. The praise I got from my father that day still lingers in my mind. Along with his warm pat on my head.

We continue our roam till the sun fulfills the horizon, which the Awa'atlu sky adorns with orange and pink; a beautiful sight—never back home would I see this. The water is clearer, transparent, and vast, with no Na'vi swimming around as it is dinner time.

Their communal areas aren't much different: some sit on rocks, and some (mostly children) sit on the bare soft sand. Everybody's palms face the sky with their eyes shut as they pray silently to Eywa.

I emulate the gesture, though my eyes are glued to Ao'nung's serene look. My eyes soften. A chilly tremble aims up my spine. The rustles of waves fill my ears and the breezy wind rubs my face.

My shoulder nudges him as I rub my arms, trying to keep myself warm. He opens his eyes.

"Cold?" He asks.

I shake my head, though the chattering of my chin proves otherwise. He scoots closer till we both have scarcely any space between us—not even a gap and wraps his arms around me, and rubs my cold-tense arms for me. Despite that his hands are also cold, my stomach radiates warmth through my body as my heart stammers in my chest.

One of his hands goes to pick on his crispy fish, shredding it. He takes a clump and presses it to my lips.

"Eat," he says.

"I got my fish," I say, yet I eat it from his fingers with a grin.

I catch my mother and Ronal glancing at us with their doe eyes before they turn and feign not to see anything. There's a gentle smile on mother's lips, unlike Ronal's stoic glare. My father and the Olo'eyktan simply spare us a glimpse, appearing not to care—or perhaps they do care as both gnaw their lips lightly.

Tuktirey side-eyes me with perplexity despite being between a chatter of Kiri and some boy—that same lanky one that had trailed behind Ao'nung upon our arrival. His hair is fluffy and in the shape of a square.

His eyes are doe and his lips are plump. Kiri is smiling and perhaps she's being friendly, but I can tell that boy isn't a threat. While Kiri is curled up in a ball, there's a glint in her eyes that possibly she's at ease. She is okay with the conversation. She is okay with the boy.

Lo'ak is too busy engrossed by Tsireya to glimpse anything. He barely even eats. Their bodies are so close, and their timid grins are contagious, coiling with rapture. Tsireya talks and Lo'ak just listens, nodding dumbly to her every word. 

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