Chapter Text
Before being banished, Neteyam hadn’t made a plan of where to go. It had all happened so fast, what he did, the debate, their decision. Those first days before his fate was decided had been a blur. He was stuck within grief while guilt consumed his mind. When he was finally banished, Neteyam just started flying to the first safe place he could think of. Awa’atlu.
Neteyam hadn’t been prepared for banishment at all. Though that isn’t to say he didn’t know it would happen, grief simply clouds the mind of those under its grasps. It claws its way in with no care for you. It digs deep under the skin, tearing into flesh and bone. And it feels like it’s pulling you apart with no way to stop it. Really his mind had stilled during his last days with the Omatikaya. He wasn’t talking or crying or anything really. He barely even ate.
That came crashing down when his time was up. When he could no longer sit staring into the distance, guilt washing over him like the waves in a storm. Neteyam could barely see straight as he began hurriedly shoving his things into bags to the background of his siblings fighting with Jake.
The four of them had been against the decision, fighting it until they no longer could. Neteyam can remember the cries, the yelling, the insults. Everything that had been thrown at Jake in his siblings’ frustration. But Jake simply stood there. Like a statue, he watched over Neteyam packing, saying nothing, ignoring their pleas and sobs.
That’s the part that Neteyam remembers the most. The way Jake stood over him as he packed, how he had walked Neteyam out of the village and to his ikran, and his watch full looking so indifferent as Neteyam took a final look before taking off.
Neteyam looks at his arms, where the injuries he arrived with used to be. They’ve healed; there’s not even a hint that they once existed. Before, Neteyam had never been sloppy enough in his flying to gain such injuries. Though, that day emotions had shrouded his judgement, and it had obviously affected Loreyu too with the way they crashed through the branches towards the open sky. The fact that he could even coherently string together the path towards Awa’atlu is impressive.
Neteyam’s taken out of his thoughts as people pass by his marui. Returning morning hunters, a few who Neteyam’s gone with before. They smile in his direction, tossing a small net his way through the entrance of his marui.
“Now, it’s even!” one of them jokes before continuing their path.
Neteyam often hunts more than he can keep for himself, a habit of being from such a large family, he usually distributes whatever he has to those he went hunting with. He smiles, noting to give something back to them.
Carefully, picking up the net, Neteyam takes out the few fish within it. It’s enough that he would be able to save some to dry. Quickly, he prepares them for breakfast, setting aside a few for drying later.
As the fish cook above the fire, Neteyam looks around at the village through the entrance of his marui. Awa’atlu isn’t a bad place to live. Neteyam could have gone to the mountains, or the travelers that float in the skies, or worser places than Awa’atlu. Actually, when he thinks about it, it’s quite nice. The beaches and ocean are full of life. The people spirited. And the company is appreciated.
Glancing around his marui, drapery strung across the walls, his bow neatly hung right beside Loreyu's saddle, his things strewn about and hanging from the ceiling, Neteyam smiles. Of course, the want for home stays, it never truly goes away.
However, this place, his marui, is nice—homely. When he returns in the night, he longer has that unfamiliarity with the walls. When he mentions returning home, it’s no longer the hammock that he used to stay in that he pictures first.
Awa’atlu may not have been his first home, but it’s starting to become another.
The first time Neteyam visited Awa’atlu was a day before the tulkun returned to the village from their migration. They were so clueless as to what was happening, him and Jake. They had been resting at midday when the horn blew, and it seemed all at once that the village perked to life. Everybody around diving into the waters as in the distance they arrived.
Neteyam had, of course, learned lessons about this before they had left the Omatikaya for the trip. Simple lessons on their culture, what the tulkun were, anything important to building a relationship with the clan. Though, those things couldn’t compare to watching it before him.
Happiness seemed to permeate the very air that surrounded the people. Bliss in a way that Neteyam hadn’t seen before then. Each of the people radiated this contagious energy. Their spirits lifted—renewed.
It was like the village had been in hibernation before that day. Perhaps not asleep but the energy that ran through it as the tulkun returned seemed immeasurable to what it was before. Neteyam couldn’t help the way that the energy transferred onto him. He was practically buzzing with excitement.
Almost immediately, Ao’nung found him and yelled at him to follow. Which Neteyam had done, gladly. He rode on the back of Ao’nung’s ilu, holding tightly and trying his best to stay on. His grin went from ear to ear and his cheeks hurt that night from his laughing. He hasn’t smiled that much in so long.
Neteyam was taken to a tulkun, Ao’nung’s tulkun. Mewtxì as her name was. Ao’nung introduced them. Neteyam hadn’t a clue about her. But, she was gentle, allowing him to float along her fin, he was a horrible swimmer back then.
Mewtxì spoke in song yet each of her words were clear as day. The way she sung was memorizing. Like a melody that carried on the wind, it just seemed so normal to listen to. As if Neteyam always knew how to understand it and there was no reason he wouldn’t have.
Ao’nung spoke back with his signs. Signs that Neteyam could not understand, but he didn’t need to know what they were both saying to see the bond between them. A bond that he would only experience a few months later when he bonded with Loreyu.
Carefully, Neteyam’s hands weave their way through a new armguard as he sits in his marui. He’s needed a better one for a while now, one more suited for a life at sea. He hasn’t used his bow often, not since figuring out how to hunt like the Metkayina, but the way that his previous one reacted to water was less than desirable to say the least. It was all but ruined the moment that it was submerged, not that it was ever meant to handle the waves.
It's late morning, right after the lessons that he’s given. Even after months, he still finds more and more to learn. New signs, better techniques, it’s almost never-ending trying to catch up on a lifetime of skills and knowledge. It slowly gets better though and with the few months he’s been in Awa’atlu, he’s fine with what he’s able to do now.
Neteyam usually finds himself alone during this time. Ao’nung will eventually come and interrupt his peace with jokes and half-hearted insults, though that’s usually lunch. For now, he has still has peace and a little bit of time to try and finish his new armguard.
At least, those were his hopes until a loud horn booms its way across the village.
His hopes of finishing his project are forgotten on the floor as he creeps outside. Realistically, Neteyam knows what it means. However, he won’t believe it until he sees it.
His breath hitches as he sees them in the distance. They leap so freely through the water, happily alerting their spirit sisters and brothers of their return. Neteyam listens as Tsireya shouts from the water, the tulkun are home. Neteyam can’t help the way his mouth lifts into a grin.
Before Neteyam’s able to leap into the water as well, a hand taps his shoulder. “Keep up!” Ao’nung yells at him, just as when they were younger. “Shell crab!” he says, teasingly, as he’s already running off.
It’s childish yet Neteyam can’t help the way his feet move. He follows as quickly as he can, copying as Ao’nung grabs a saddle, calls for an ilu, and dives into the water.
In the months Neteyam’s been taught on Awa’atlu, his skills have improved immensely. While, when he started, he could barely swim from one point to another while looking like a drowning animal, he’s now graceful, at least somewhat. At the very least, there’s no longer concern and pity in the eyes of those around him when he swims.
Though, there’s nowhere that he’s improved more than his ilu riding. He may not be able to ride as well as he can with his ikran but he’s not completely useless at it anymore. Neteyam’s improved enough to the point that Ao’nung’s been having talks about getting him on a tsurak, a true warrior’s mount as he says.
Neteyam races through the crowds of tulkun and people. Trying his hardest to keep up with Ao’nung’s weaving. Though, Neteyam has no doubt that Ao’nung is keeping it a little slower for him.
Finally, they come upon a tulkun Neteyam knows. Mewtxì lets out a call as she sees them, no doubt a greeting. Neteyam floats at the surface on his ilu, watching as Ao’nung greets her. It reminds him of his bond with Loreyu.
Ao’nung waves him over. He looks pointedly at Neteyam, trying to get him to come. “Get over,” he signs on top of all of it.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Neteyam signs. It’s the wrong response, apparently. He knows the moment he sees the look on Ao’nung’s face.
In the blink of an eye, Ao’nung’s by his side and practically dragging him over to talk with Mewtxì. “She wants to speak to you,” he signs, emphasizing the ‘you’, still pulling Neteyam over with his free hand. Neteyam doesn’t resist, it would be pointless really.
Once Neteyam is before her, Mewtxì kindly offers her fin for him to sit on. It’s an offer that Neteyam takes. Unsure what to even begin with, Neteyam fiddles with his hands, trying to come up with something to say.
Mewtxì takes the choice from him by starting. “I know you,” she says in that same song. It’s as clear as the water what she’s saying. Her voice is sure, no trace of doubt. “From before.”
Neteyam smiles, nodding. “I know you,” he signs back. He can’t help the way that his eyes catch on the tulkun’s tattoos. They stretch across her in intricate details. They remind Neteyam of Ao’nung’s. Neteyam’s eyes automatically peek over to Ao’nung. They smile to each other, a gesture Mewtxì immediately takes note of.
Mewtxì eyes shift from Neteyam to Ao’nung and back to Neteyam, where they settle once more. Neteyam tilts his head in confusion. “Take good care of him,” she says. Her voice now is much softer, like a whisper. Not loud enough for Ao’nung to hear. “I know you will.”
Neteyam turns to Ao’nung, his eyes wash over the other’s features. His smile so bright as he watches Mewtxì and Neteyam. “I will,” Neteyam signs, looking back at her. “I promise.”
After the arrival of the tulkun, there is always a celebration during the evening meal. There’s always piles of food, unimaginable to finish, yet at the end of the celebration there is nothing left to be found. Everyone is dressed to their finest. Sparkling jewelry and tassels decorate everyone around. Not to mention the dances, retellings of the stories from long ago. It’s Neteyam’s favorite part of the whole celebration.
Neteyam’s led through the crowds of celebration by Ao’nung. He’s stopped at a group, many of whom Neteyam recognizes as Ao’nung’s friends. He hadn’t exactly talked with any of them though, besides the occasional pass by in the village.
Ao’nung introduces him, however Neteyam already knows the look in their eyes. They know who he is. Who he was. It’s pity and curiosity that he sees. Like he’s some kind of showing to admire.
Immediately, Neteyam’s offered a cup with some concoction of alcohol in it. The last time he drank was in the forest, before everything. “Thanks,” Neteyam says, cutting off his thoughts. His fingers wrap around the cup, his grip tighter than it should be.
“Relax,” one of them says. He looks about Neteyam’s own age, perhaps a little older. He has his tattoos. “We’ve all heard stories about you. I’m Zo’ile.”
“Stories?” Neteyam asks. He takes a sip from the cup in his hand. The taste is retched, and it takes everything in Neteyam to not spit it out. All that it reminds him of is that last night before it happened. Before he messed it all up and-
“You sound surprised,” Zo’ile says, there’s something about his voice that Neteyam can’t help but be irritated at. “You shouldn’t be. You’re a masterful hunter, skilled craftsmen, youngest to ever complete their iknimaya. It’s impressive. You should be proud.”
Neteyam swallows down another sip. “That’s all the past. It has no meaning to now.” Really, it doesn’t. None of those achievements have any worth to them, not anymore.
A silence falls over the group. Tension runs through the air as Neteyam words settle in. Perhaps, the true meaning of his banishment hadn’t been thought about before. Perhaps, there’s nothing to say after such a thing. Or, perhaps, it’s difficult to truly accept that despite all that Neteyam had done, it was all rendered worthless in the matter of a few words.
The silence is broken by Ao’nung. “The dances are starting,” he announces. “We should go to watch.” There’s an absolute to his voice, no doubt something he got from Tonowari.
Neteyam smiles, ignoring the stare he knows Zo’ile is sending his way. “The dances here are always beautiful,” he compliments as he follows closely behind Ao’nung towards where they’re being held. “It will be nice seeing them again.”
The dances are truly something else. They aren’t the same as the feathered and woven creations that Neteyam was accustomed to in the forest. They show their stories in their own ways. With carefully crafted props and overzealous acting, it’s quite the display.
If his attention ever drifted to the na’vi beside him rather than the dances, Neteyam would never admit. His eyes have a mind of their own.
When Neteyam does return to the group, it’s clear that they’re all a few more drinks into it. That’s not excluding himself. Neteyam makes his best attempt at talking. Trying his best to steer the conversation the farthest away from himself. Though, it’s practically impossible to do so. With their inhibitions gone and mouths running loose, it inevitably comes up once again.
“I mean the son of Toruk Makto, banished?” one of them comments, Rax'syu if Neteyam remembers right, his voice slurring. He’s drunk, Neteyam pays it no mind. “It’s unbelievable…”
“I have a brother,” Neteyam says back, ignoring the questioning glances sent his way. Silently, Neteyam prays that it all stops there. It’s a foolish ask.
“But he wasn’t supposed to be the next Olo’eyktan. You were, weren’t you?” Zo’ile questions.
“I don’t see how that’s important,” Neteyam replies, his voice sterner.
“I’m just saying they wouldn’t banish you if you didn’t truly deserve it. We give you such kindness, aren’t we allowed to know?” Zo’ile all but sneers out his question. He looks at Neteyam up and down, expectantly awaiting an answer.
“I…” Neteyam voice falls flat as the words try to escape his mouth. It’s his fault, his burden to carry. His ears flatten to his head. Who is he to live a life like this? To deserve such kindness after everything he did?
“Dude,” Ao’nung cuts in, carefully disguising his anger. “Why would you ask that?” His voice full of disgust, his face scrunching up with it.
“It’s fine, really,” Neteyam tries. He should be used to the questions at this point. Though, no on had exactly asked in such a forward way. Most simply avoided the topic on the whole.
“It isn’t,” Ao’nung argues back before turning back. “He gives back to the village; it shouldn’t matter why he’s here.” His fist clench together as he talks down to them.
“Shouldn’t we all know why-” Rax’syu’s cut off before he can even speak further.
“You’re drunk, Rax'syu,” Ao’nung says sternly. “Go home.” It’s not an ask.
“Woah, future Olo’eyktan much there?” Rax’syu holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever,” he mumbles, wandering off to who knows where. Zo’ile follows after a pointed look from Ao’nung.
“I’m used to the questions,” Neteyam says, quietly when the two are out of sight and the rest of Ao’nung’s friends go back to their own conversations. “I expected them.”
“It’s no one’s business,” Ao’nung says plainly. His brows furrow as he looks off into the distance, clearly mad. “They’re idiots to ask.” His shoulders sag as he sighs.
“It’s not your fault,” Neteyam responds, trying to assure him with a smile. “I was actually thinking of going home for the night.”
Ao’nung stills for a moment before nodding. “I’ll walk you back.”
The two begin walking, somewhere in the direction of Neteyam’s marui. Truthfully, he just wanted out of there. The drinks were beginning to bring on too many memories and thought of any more questions sickened him. Once out of sight of the celebration, Neteyam stops.
“I have to admit that I just wanted to look around the island,” Neteyam says, catching Ao’nung’s eye. “If you wanted to join,” he suggests, tilting his head to the side with the offer.
It doesn’t take Ao’nung any time to decide. “I would love to.”
Walking down the beach, the two stay in a comfortable silence. Every so often, commenting on one thing or another. The only light coming from the ocean and their sanhì.
“Do you remember the cave we ventured to on the last day of my visit?” Neteyam suddenly asks. The look of the water reflecting across the ceiling has stuck around in his mind. He oft wonders if it looks the same.
“Of course,” Ao’nung answers, pausing his walk with Neteyam doing so as well. “I loved that cave. I haven’t been since we were there together.” The whole place was covered in soft foliage, some halfway between a plant of land and that of a sea one. Neteyam hopes that they’re still thriving.
“How do we get there again?” Neteyam asks.
The cave isn’t far. It’s an easy swim, not long from shore. They dive through the water, carefully swimming through the passages towards it. The journey isn’t long.
The cave is exactly as Neteyam remembers. He almost thought it wouldn’t be. That the shimmering light that dances on the ceiling wouldn’t shine the same. That the soft foliage that lines the sharp rocks would be dried and hard.
“This place is exactly as I remember,” Neteyam says. He laughs to himself. “I don’t know why I thought it would be so different.” He runs his hand along the soft plants.
“It really does feel the same,” Ao’nung responds. He smiles and it feels like Neteyam’s heart stops, he looks back at the plants in an attempt to keep any composure.
“A lot still feels the same.” Neteyam’s gaze stays transfixed on the soft foliage as his thoughts wander. It truly is like they’re those twelve-year-olds again. Dumb and in love, though they hadn’t an idea of what they were feeling at the time. His attention’s pulled away by Ao’nung gently reaching out and taking hold of Neteyam’s wrist.
“Neteyam.” There’s a tone to his voice that immediately catches Neteyam’s notice.
“Ao’nung?” Neteyam asks, meeting the other’s eyes.
“I really meant it,” Ao’nung says. His hand’s still on Neteyam’s wrist, his skin buzzing where Ao’nung’s soft touch lays. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, Neteyam fails to convince himself as his heart beats louder in his chest. “When you first came to Awa’atlu.”
“Meant what?” Neteyam steps closer, a little too close for friends. His breath hitches as Ao’nung moves his free hand to cup the side of Neteyam’s face.
“That I missed you.” Ao’nung voice comes out in the quietest of whispers, those words barely reach Neteyam’s ears.
Before Neteyam even realizes it, they’re both leaning in. Ao’nung lips suddenly on his. The gesture is so casual, so normal, it’s as if they’ve rehearsed it a hundred times. Neteyam’s arms gently wrap around Ao’nung’s neck, pulling him in closer.
They don’t back away. They don’t want to. And, just maybe, all of Neteyam’s thoughts are filled with the fact that Ao’nung’s lips are so soft and that he should’ve done this a while ago.
In the forest, it wasn’t uncommon to hear the sound of raindrops trinkling down the canopy. The soft splatter of them atop the leaves and branches as the water made its way to the ground.
It’s the background to many of Neteyam’s memories. That melodic tune of them simply dripping away. It’s what he hears when he visits his grandmother. Her voice echoed by the sound of those drops. It makes him feel like a child again. The same one who would sneak out of his parent’s pod to watch his grandmother’s practice or who would climb to the tallest tree simply to get a better view of the rain.
It doesn’t rain as often in Awa’atlu. At least, it hasn’t since Neteyam began living among the people. Though often he longs for the comfort of the rain. Of the sound of it hitting the ground. However, perhaps it isn’t the rain that he misses, but the simplicity that life had when he heard it. He used to miss the sound of the rain in the forest as well.
Neteyam wakes early. Earlier than usual. It’s still dark, but he can hear the rain softly splattering onto the ground. Slowly, he ventures out of the marui. He sits on the edge of one of the pathways, his feet hanging over the ocean.
The sound of footsteps along the pathways catches Neteyam’s attention. “What are you doing?” Ao’nung asks as he sits beside the other.
“Listening to the rain,” Neteyam explains softly.
“Can I listen with you?” Ao’nung intertwines their hands.
“Always.”
It feels like home again as he listens. This feels like home.