Chapter Text
Surprisingly enough, Ao'nung forgets about the makeup on his face the moment they arrive at the festival — however, until then, he's nervous.
He hasn’t got anything on his forehead, unlike Neteyam, just a simple golden line under the outer curves of both his dark brows and a single one going down the centre of his chin. He thinks the colour is better on Neteyam’s skin than his own, but at the same time, Ao’nung likes the way it makes him look.
He lets Neteyam take a picture of him for his close-friends-only story and they even show their matching faces to the group chat.
It's fun, all in all, but Ao'nung still gets a little nervous and fluttery when he looks at the photos and remembers that those pretty lines are still indeed on his face.
And they're not tribal markings — they're merely for Neteyam's aesthetic pleasure.
Neteyam smiles at him, all but beaming as they stand in their room. "Are you ready?"
Ao'nung chews on his lower lip before nodding. "Yeah, let's go."
Tonowari and Ronal are in the living room, chatting amongst themselves quietly as Tonowari holds a napping Srufke, letting her drool on his shoulder.
Neteyam's eyes linger on the man's impressive amount of tattoos, especially the ones on his face. He has to admit, at first they scared Neteyam. He wonders if both Ao'nung and Tsireya will get their own tattoos as they get a little older.
Tonowari perks up at the sight of his son, giving him a little downturned smile and a thumbs up.
Ao'nung sags in relief and almost reaches up to rub at his eyelids and most of his face, but Neteyam gently grabs his wrist, pale brown gaze sweeping over the moles along Ao'nung's features.
"Have fun," Ronal whispers to them with a content smile. Neteyam thinks that's a rare look on her.
"Thank you," they both mouth back silently and carefully leave the apartment.
The festival is loud – there’s a portable theme park too. The rides seem to be in good condition if a little retro. Most people did not bring children and the beach if full of youth, mainly students. There’s candy floss and a lot of beer, but Ao’nung can also smell the traditional Metcayina wines drifting in the air.
Neteyam sees a lot of bikinis and grass skirts.
Later on in the evening, there will be a concert held by a young band who makes modernised metcayinan music; Ao’nung actually really likes them.
Tsireya is decked out in all of her favourite, predominantly white shells. They adorn her neck, ankle, wrist and even her ears bear little clip-on shells. She seems the most excited out of everyone to be here, already talking to other groups even if she only recognises one face among fifteen.
“So,” Kiri hums, linking one arm with Rotxo’s, the other with Spider’s. They both stare at her as if she’d hung all the stars across the cloudless night sky above them. “What can we do here aside from getting on the rides and eating?”
Rotxo grins. “Dance and drink, of course.”
Neteyam watches Tsireya drag Lo’ak off to greet yet another person. He laces his fingers with Ao’nung’s, listening to their friends talk.
“We do that a lot though,” Kiri purses her lips, unimpressed. “I thought festivals meant bonfires, fireworks, and lots of loud music—”
“You’ll get your bonfire later, crystal girl,” Ao’nung huffs, rolling his eyes. “Things are just getting started.”
“Yeah!” Rotxo grins, pale blue eyes twinkling in excitement. He shuffles his feet a little, digging his bare toes into the sand. “There will be a talent show.”
“Talent show?” Spider parrots.
Rotxo beams. “Yeah. The winner actually gets such a cool prize, but it’s only ever revealed after you’ve won.”
“Is there lemonade here?” Neteyam whispers to Ao’nung quickly, squinting to find anything non-alcoholic.
Ao’nung huffs out a laugh. “Come on, we’ll find you some.”
“What was the prize last time?” Spider asks, leaning closer, interest piqued.
“An actual yacht,” Rotxo smirks, puffing out his check. “It wasn’t that big or anything though. Sometimes it’s just some surfboards, usually like three and this one time it was a diving kit with like spare tanks.”
“How do you win that?” Kiri gapes, less impressed by the diving kit and more so by the surfboards.
Rotxo snakes an arm around her pale, freckled shoulders, smiling so wide even his entire bottom row of teeth is visible in the dim light. “That, my lady, is really simple. You just got to feel the drums.”
“The drums?” Both Kiri and Spider echo, bewildered.
“Bro, that’s the worst advice ever—” Spider protests weakly, shaking his head with an amused chuckle.
Rotxo shakes his head hurriedly. “No. Most people do traditional dances or songs for the competition. Those are led by drums.”
“Who’s taking part?” Kiri sighs out, already anticipating the show. “Do we know beforehand?”
Rotxo points across the beach to a large booth. “You just have to write your name on that paper pinned to the pillar until the competition starts. You get called in the order you signed up.”
Lo’ak and Tsireya show up next to them suddenly, both holding bags of food.
“Where’s Ao’nung and Neteyam?” Tsireya hums, eyes raking over the growing crowd.
“They went to find lemonade, didn’t they?” Lo’ak pulls a face, earning a laugh from Kiri and Spider.
“Lemonade?” Tsireya giggles. “At a mainly Metcayina festival? That’s cute.”
“Hey,” Lo’ak whines out, nudging Spider to take some food. “Be careful who you call cute. I might get jealous.”
Kiri’s face scrunches up before she actually gags a little. “Men being jealous isn’t attractive, bro.”
Lo’ak inhales sharply, looking absolutely affronted just as Kiri and Rotxo take most of the food from him and Tsireya. They both keep a hold on the bag belonging to their older brothers.
“It’s okay, Lo’ak—”
“What’s up with Neteyam and lemonade?” Rotxo pipes up.
Lo’ak shrugs. “Nothing special. He just always wants to find lemonade because he thinks they’re made best at festivals. He's literally obsessed and then complains about having to pee all night. Oh wait, I see them.”
“He actually did find lemonade!” Kiri snickers, shaking her head fondly. “Who are they with?”
“I think that’s Da-som and Mark. Ao’nung’s new friends.” Tsireya adjusts her hold on the bags and sighs, stomach rumbling loudly, drowned out by the music. “They should hurry, I’m starving.”
“Here, I’ll hold Ao’nung’s.” Rotxo holds his hand out, taking the bag from Tsireya, who doesn’t waste a single second more to dive into her food, fries, and some type of fish. She doesn’t even bother using the weak, plastic fork.
Neteyam accepts an invitation to take some photos with Da-Som, Mark and drags Ao'nung into the frame as well. Da-Som links an arm around the surfer's shoulder and gets on her tippy toes to be in the frame with three tall men who are all crouching down.
Neteyam gets lost in watching a group of girls screaming on a roller coaster and already feels dizzy from just the mere sight — they seem to be having fun though.
Da-Som pats Ao'nung's back and beams up at him.
He blinks down at her in confusion for a moment.
The dark-haired girl's smile is all teeth and dimples. She gestures to her own face — lacking any fancy makeup — and then to Ao'nung's own face. "You look good."
Ao'nung flushes, clearing his throat. "Thanks."
He stands a little straighter after that.