AVATAR TWOW: Torn between the 2

Chapter xi| The eyes of 2 Tsahìks

N E T E Y A M
The eyes of 2 Tsahìks
PT 3

IT'S EARLY MORNING. The sun fulfills the horizon and peeks about the entrance of every Marui as each Metkayina diligently awakens. I enter my Marui with a yawn, having arrived back from my quick stroll of alleviating my bones and vacating my morning senses.

I halt; stumbling upon the eye of my mother and Ronal conversing, sitting across one another on the cozy rug centered on the Marui. Their voices are hushed as if they are talking about crucial matters. They appear to enjoy each other's company as their faces aren't hostile or stirred with derision like usual.

"Neteyam," Ronal greets me with a nod of her head.

I return the nod, my eyes scarcely widening as her eyes dig into each hair of my body. My ears perk as I tidy upright and raise my chin as she does so too. She scrutinizes me; peers keenly into my eyes, almost challenging me. My tail whisks behind me with alacrity and vigilance.

"Come sit with us, Neteyamur," my mother croons, patting the room next to her.

I would've loved to hesitate, but upon her warm smile, I deduce that I should quickly do as she says. I sit next to her with my chest puffed and my shoulders rolled back. My snout twitches from the minty and sweet aroma that wafts on the rug. It isn't nasty, but it surely has an after smell of sourness and funkiness to it.

"Here, try it," Ronal tells me, holding out a leaf of minced greens; creamy in texture and with specks of coral red. I swipe my finger and try the interesting paste. My ears twitch just a bit.

"How is it?" she asks me, her doe-emerald capering with anticipation.

"It's good," I declare, still sucking on my finger.

The taste tarries on my tongue. Dissimilar to how it smells, the paste is remarkably sweet (too sweet), pungent, spicy, and overall mouthwatering. I almost can't seem to get enough as I want another dip. Ronal smiles and so does mother.

"I'm glad. My son doesn't like bitter things," she says.

I cock my head to one side.  "What are you making him? If I may ask."

"It's his favorite fish dish—submerged in the taste of coral water and this uniquely made condiment right here. He likes it with clams on the side, though I have yet to fetch those."

"I can help," I tell Ronal, too fast and blunt for my comfort.

"I was hoping you would," she nods firmly, not paying mind to my enthusiasm. "Now tell me, Neteyam, have you mated my son?"

My body stills. The breeze abruptly turns rigid as those four eyes pin me like some prey—yellow and emerald watching me with expectancy and keenness that makes me swallow timidly. My body heats up and I sweat, yet my stare is fixated as I don't bat an eye.

"I did," I tell them, my voice gruff.

Ronal closes her eyes and exhales deeply. "I won," she says, facing my mother with a lively flash in her eyes despite the stoicism on her face.

My mother wrings her neck and hisses with dismay. Her braids swing and whack her face about, and just then, she reminds me of me. Our braids flail left and right like some waltz.

"I would've never thought my son to be impetuous," my mother says gutturally. "Never would've seen the day he'd find a mate—much less a guy."

"Love does so many things—recklessness being a primary," Ronal chimes. "Nonetheless, your mother and I are proud, Neteyam."

"Thank you. I'll protect your son, just like he protects me," I gently smile as my tail curls and wags, the tuft hairy end fondling my legs. I nod politely as I slowly get back up to my feet. "It was a pleasure to talk to you, Ronal. If I may, I'll leave you two to your conversations," I tell them both.

They smile and excuse me (just the same as they shoo me away). I drift from their voices as I walk towards my mat and lay there, next to Tuk—who's still sleeping despite the blind light on her face. She's a heavy sleeper and doesn't usually wake till the afternoon. She squirms.

Lo'ak is no place to be found in our Marui—but it isn't a worry as I had seen him with Tsireya during my trek. Kiri is missing too and perhaps she is with Rotxo as that's what she does these days. Father is possibly out hunting with the Olo'eyktan and Ao'nung. My mother isn't tense about their whereabouts and I suppose I shouldn't be either.

I grab the tiny rock from the micro-miniature shelf I carved out of wood long back home and hold the jewel to the ceiling, twirling it in my long fingers.

Upon the rays of the sun, the rock shines a rainbow—with some sides white—almost transparent. The myriad of colors piled on like layers; one beneath the other to make this shimmering strong gem of a rock, astound me.

It's breathtaking. I can almost see my tiny reflection of gold within the crystalline. I ponder on what I can make out of this rock—a gift for myself which I keep, the trace of Ao'nung forever with me, instead of letting the jewel sit on my shelf for decades.

I hear Tuktirey hum in her sleep. "Big brother, you awake?" she asks me with her big and drowsy eyes that squint. She lifts her head a bit and cups a hand over her eyes.

I roll on my side and hold myself up on my elbow with my rock squeezed tight in my fist. I ruffle her hair with my free hand.

"I'm awake," I croon to her with a small smile.

"'teyam, that hurts! You're gonna make me bald!" she fusses as my hand dishevels her tangled-morning twists.

She yanks my hand away and I chortle.

"Where's Lo'ak and Kiri?" she asks as she looks around the Marui. She gasps and quickly sits up. "The Tsahìk is here! Look, big brother, but don't make it obvious," she whispers.

"It's alright. They're just chatting," I laugh and can't help but pet her head once more.

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