~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

Wonderfully wrong.

"I was tired of having it all messy." She stated, "I have really thick hair, and it can be a burden. What do you think? Do you like it?" 

"It looks beautiful, Sephora. But, just so you know, if I do such a horrible job at braiding your hair you can just tell me, huh?" He broke off in a cackle, to which Feya gasped and placed a hand over her heart. "You don't do a bad job! I just like this hairstyle!" 

"Relax, I'm joking." Neteyam snickered again. "I already know I'm just terrible. You don't have to tell me."  

From the other part of the marui, Lo'ak let out a boisterous laugh. "Pick-me!" He shouted. 

"Yeah, pick-me." Fey'atsi leaned over and took a strand of Neteyam's hair between her fingers, examining it. "Bedsides, you should be worrying about your own hair. It looks pretty dusty to me." 

Feya knew where she was going with this. She was smart with her words, and she had a vision of doing all different types of hairstyles on Neteyam, maybe just to have a little fun. Back at the Omaticayan Stronghold, she always tried to stick flowers in his hair but unfortunately, he scrambled away each time. He didn't like to look girly. But as she was looking at Neteyam, she genuinely wanted to help him. She knew he took his appearance seriously—"How you look is important", she'd heard him tell Lo'ak once. Besides, she enjoyed working with her hands. 

"Do you mind if I do something to it?" She asked, glancing in the direction of Neytiri and her daughters. They were busy making different types of food, so she turned back to her friend. He shook his head, "I don't mind, but—" 

Neteyam's gaze flickered about the dimly lit expanse of the marui, his expression resigned, before he whispered "I don't think I can sit up yet—not really." 

There was a pause for a moment. Then, Neteyam looked up a Feya with a sort of sadness and embarrassment in his eyes. But also, she detected a bit of humor buried deep within his reflection. She thought it was amusing how he used humor to cover up the pain he was in—or at least he found his discomfort funny himself. But nevertheless, it was a good way to keep the spirits up and be lighthearted about the situation. 

"That's okay—we can always help you." Feya's ear twitched. "If that's what you want." 

Neteyam nodded, "Okay." 

Feya didn't fully trust herself to pull Neteyam into a sitting position herself without hurting him, so she leaned her upper body backwards and located his little brother. "Lo'ak!" 

The skinny fourteen-year-old's head popped up from whatever he was doing, and he quickly scrambled over to where he was being called. He halted beside Feya and glanced back and forth between her and his brother. "What is it?" 

Fey'atsi gestured towards the hammock. "Will you get in there and help Neteyam sit up?I'm going to do his hair." 

Lo'ak nodded, "Of course," and cautiously climbed into the hammock, his movements slow and diligent in order not to hurt Neteyam. The older boy just watched with a grin across his face, a little glimpse of his teeth showing. Then, he yelped very dryly, "Ow!" 

Lo'ak immediately reached out to swat at his brother, but he thought better of it and retracted his arm with an agitated growl. "Bro, stop playing! I didn't even touch you!" 

"Lo'ak!" Neytiri hissed from afar, venom in her tone. "Do not hit your brother!"

Neteyam cracked up in a series of raspy laughs that made his breathing sound grating and painful. Feya was wondering if his excessive humor today was due to the fact that his head was messed up—but she supposed it was a mix of everything. His personality, the medicine he was taking, his concussion, and the exhaustion he was experiencing. Poor Neteyam just wanted to make some fun out of this awful situation.