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There was a gentle sloshing of water. The slightly caustic liquid lapped at the wooden supports, causing repetitive noises below him. The sun was a bit past midday, but nowhere near the eclipse hours, not even close to the evening meal. A quick scraping sound of stone on bone suggested that Kiri was getting close to finishing the henna. The sunlight dappled the side opening of the unoccupied marui. It was near the scarcer side of the village but had been finished by Jake when Tonowari had taught him how to weave the homes.
Although unlikely, at least if they spilled any paint, they had time to wash it away. No colorful blankets or thick sleeping mats to be wary of. That was a straight-up blessing from Eywa. He'd rather not test his adoptive mother's patience with his messier maintenance. Neytiri had worked hours on those decorations; all that time, she'd be pissed with him for ruining the cloth. A tickle worked across his chest, in a diagonal motion. If it were any other situation, he'd jokingly tell Kiri so; she would kill him for ruining the tediously woven endeavor. But he doesn't think Kiri would take it so well...
Would she have?
The tickle morphs into a burn.
Kiri was on the line.
She drew a line.
Spider's throat tightened, dry and desperate. His hands ached like he'd climbed up the Hallelujah Mountains ten times over. What he did was wrong. What she did was wrong. Dad was wrong. Jake was wrong. Lo'ak was stupid and wrong. Ardmore was wrong, evil and wrong. Everyone was wrong. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, as bugs crawled under his skin, down his spine and into his mind. Why couldn't he have been just a little faster? His legs just a little longer? Was all this just his mess? The Sully's leaving?
Did Jake really believe he was going to rat them out?
After sixteen—no seventeen, he's seventeen; Quaritch told him happy birthday one morning in the forest. After seventeen years, with nothing but unwavering loyalty, a desperate need to belong to the Na'vi, Jake thought he was going to tell the RDA everything. He thought Spider would save himself over his family—stop. Not his family. Never his family. Not after sixteen years, not ever. Jake took him in out of guilt. That was it. He's the family pet.
"Are you okay, monkey boy?" Kiri wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to stop staring at the sunlit floor. How the intertwined material wrapped around itself, forming little bumps and dips in the marui. Her chin rested comfortably on the crown of his head. Eywa, he missed Kiri's touch. He dreamt about being held tight by her, Lo'ak, and Tuk every cold night he was with the Recoms. How they would tuck him close, grip as tight as his own and swear that it was just a bad dream. It would never happen again. That they were planning on getting him. Jake was just biding time.
"You're in your head again." Something they shared. A trait they've always shared. Drifting from their bodies as they contemplated everything, and nothing at once. Where the others could merely keep their feet planted in the ground, Kiri and Spider would have their heads in the clouds. Granted, he had been better at masking it. Kiri wasn't ever afraid to physically show just how far her mind had meandered. It was beautiful.
"I like it out here. It's quiet." Spider answered truthfully, despite the fact that the topic hadn't crossed his mind. He curled his arms to pull Kiri's arms closer to his chest. Hooking his chin around her forearms. In another life, he would have been able to curl up with her every night growing up. In some life where he could breathe sulfuric air.
"Not like home huh?" Kiri was sardonic. It was like home, some fairytale time ago. Where everything wasn't perfect, but close enough to be. Where he found solace in the trees and the forest ikran. Where he'd watch the Yerik calves frolic in Eywa's garden. Where he felt close to the Great Mother. Almost as if he could be her child. Maybe then, if he had died in some freak accident, she would have still accepted him for living by her laws.
"Maybe home will return to this." Spider consoles. He traces a few fingers over her stripes, elegant and strong. He feels her cords of muscle shift under his pads, giving a tightened squeeze before she let go. Ignoring the scratching tufts of blonde hair itching his back and shoulders, he traces the outline of where her hands had been. It still felt a little warm to the touch.
"When pigs fly." She snorted and adjusted her stance as she set the paint beside him. Crouching to examine his pale and cleaned body. Sometimes when they were busy, they just painted over his fading henna. Other times, like today when they both had time, they made an event of it. Scrubbing him clean for Kiri, or Lo'ak, to claim him as family again.
"Kiri!" The voice traveled across the water, overtaking the gentle lapping with the crashing boom of her imposing voice. Ronal. Spider managed to turn his head in time to watch how Kiri's graceful ears flickered with the call of the Tsahik. Locating and pinpointing where the sound was coming from. Her mouth just barely open as she was processing the call.
"No, no, no, no…" Kiri's muttering above him as she's looking around the hut. Her hands patting the floor around her, even brushing his thigh twice before she stood up. "I thought it was tomorrow!"
She stops to send an apologetic gaze to him. Golden orbs filled with regret. Like amber sap flowing from the hometree. Like honey and all the sweet hues of the hour before the eclipse. "I'm so sorry, I thought we had time today."
He knows she doesn't want to leave him bare. He hates it. Despises it with an eternal part of his soul. He feels like so much less without that small dye. That bit of her love with him.
"It's fine Kiri, I can go one day without my stripes," He can, and he will. Kiri is his little sister, his best friend, his soulmate. He'd lift the oceans to make her smile. And if learning from the Metkayina Tsahik made her glow, then he'd give up his stripes forever. "Go, before Ronal puts a knot in your tail for being late!"
She holds his empathic stare with her own. She tilts her head with a twitch of a smile before taking a step towards the hut entrance. She taps the side of the marui before she leaves, and Spider watches her long digits trace the hut as she disappears. She's finding her place in the world, and he couldn't be happier for her. Even if that meant she'd one day leave him.
He wonders if he should trace his own pattern into his skin. Wouldn't be the first time he's done so, but it might end up not looking realistic. At least with Kiri or Lo'ak there, they'd trace their own stripes onto him, making the look related by pattern. But Lo'ak was with Neteyam and Jake training the warriors, Kiri was training with the Tsahik. Tuk was with her friends collecting shelled creatures for the cooks, and Neytiri… he wouldn't want to offend his adoptive guardian.
Besides, he feels like he'd be betraying his sibling, again. She's been part of every 'tattooing' he's done since he walked into the village all those years ago with spartan fruit juice lines all over him after he had 'the best idea ever.' Minus his time with the RDA, and even then he had only let Quaritch trace the previous stripes Kiri had placed on his skin.
He'd just have to wait until Lo'ak or Kiri would be free. Hopefully sometime later today.
"Hey plonti," Spider felt his neck crack, whipping toward the oceanic entrance of the marui. The deeper voice had startled him briefly, his legs jerking upwards causing the bowl of henna he had resting there to tumble against the marui floor.
"Shit." Spider slumped his shoulders at the sight of the bowl facing downwards and the deep blue dye running along the woven flooring. Ignoring the churning of his stomach, Spider looked back to the 'window.' There, was Ao'nung, his hair freshly done. Small twin braids loosely curled around the sides of his head while the rest hung loose. The curls pulled up tight as water ran off the inky dark hair. His forearms were crossed on the lip of the marui while the rest body floated in the water. Spider saw his tail paddled lazily near the surface. His skin rippled with the sunlight in and out of the water. His lips were pulled into a mischievous smirk as his teal eyes glanced from the bowl to Spider's dark brown ones. He stills for a moment, observing Spider's unmarred body during the journey from the bowl to brown orbs.
Spider wouldn’t lie; he felt a bit self-conscious under the gaze of the young warrior. Especially when Ao’nung took a few moments to observe him, like he was seeing into Spider’s soul. It was extremely uncomfortable.
“Who taught you that word?” Spider asked, referring to Ao’nung’s attempt at a nickname. Na’vi always have trouble with b’s, d’s, and j’s. It just wasn’t in their language’s range of phonetic sounds. Ao’nung uncrossed his arms and pulled himself out of the warm water. Spider watched his triceps flex with the extension. Jake’s training regimen has had Ao’nung pack on some weight, it seemed. His shoulders were finally broadening, and his body was starting to layer in muscle. Granted, it might have been that Ao’nung was beginning his sixteenth year of life. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to attribute those traits to the idea that he was just hitting the Na’vi version of puberty.
“Neteyam,” Ao’nung wrung his long hair out with his hands into the water below before flinging it over his shoulder. Spider decided to finally pick up the shell of ruined dye. He crawled behind Ao’nung’s legs and dipped the bowl into the ocean before scooping out some water to pour onto the painted floor.
“Oh yeah? How so?” Spider rubbed a hand over the paint, working it into the plant fiber, encouraging it to soak and dilute before permanently staining the floor.
“He asked Lo’ak ‘where’s plonti’, and I asked him what that meant,” Ao’nung grabbed the bowl from Spider’s side and dipped it into the water himself, fetching something to rinse the floor with. Neteyam would have known he didn’t have tsurak duty today if he had listened when Spider spoke yesterday at dinner.
“And what does it mean?” Spider sat back on his knees and glanced at the almost-man. Ao’nung only had a few more days until he and a few other warriors attempted to finish their Iknimaya.
“It’s a word to describe people like you.” Ao’nung poured the water, and Spider moved his hands as the seawater rinsed the dye away.
“Like me?” Spider teased; he loved making the other choke on his choice of words.
“Your hair color, shmarrt azz.” Ao’nung attempted the English words. Lo’ak needed to correct his pronunciation or Spider was going to crack up every time Ao’nung swore. “Neteyam also said your hair is even more yellow when it’s down. Is that true?”
Spider rolled his shoulders as he rolled onto his butt, arms planted behind him to look at Ao’nung. What the hell was Neteyam really telling Ao’nung? Sometimes Spider would only trust the guy as far as he could throw him. “Yes, it's more yellow when it’s loose.”
“He said it’s curly too. Like mine.” Ao’nung sat across from him, his eyes were fixated on Spider’s hair. His fingers twitched, before stilling. Did Ao’nung want to touch his hair? It would make sense. Na’vi hair was all black, and very similar in texture. So, something foreign would be interesting. Fun to mess around with.
“I’m not sure how curly it would be right now,” He took a dread between his fingers and twisted it back and forth, the roughness of his hair was always off-putting. He knew that it was supposed to be full and silky like Max’s, but in a different way. It had to do with his mom’s heritage, Brazilian. Latinos usually had thick and soft hair, at least according to Max. But he got the color from his dad. Norm said that was an oddity. Blonde hair was recessive and gave way to darker tones. He wished he was a little less of an oddity. “I’ve had these dreads in for years.”
“It’s that a normal style for hue-manes?” Ao’nung’s pronunciation of humans is a lot better than ‘blondie’. He must have practiced the word more. It causes a spike in curiosity of why Ao’nung is using all this English.
“What do you mean?” Spider pauses before leaning forward, offering the piece of hair in his hand for Ao’nung to feel. Ao’nung’s eyes widen before darting from the blonde mop to Spider’s eyes. His hands are slow as he moves to carefully grip the section and twist it in his grip, thumb sliding along the chunk as his eyes inspect the portion.
“Metkayina don’t typically dread hair because of water rot. Do hue-manes dread their hair naturally?” Ao’nung asks absent-mindedly as he fiddles with Spider’s hair. Both hands holding it. Spider there’s nothing but blue arms in his field of vision, but he doesn’t feel claustrophobic.
“Eh, some people do it. I’m not supposed to keep the dreads in my hair for long,” Spider ducks his eyes as Ao’nung pauses his ministrations to look down on Spider, shifting his arms so Spider’s head is no longer obscured, “My hair type isn’t really meant for the style and technically damages it. But the humans back home who do this style help me do it. They say it’s like passing down their culture.”
“But your father lets you do it anyway?” Ao’nung lifts his hand to examine the other dreads, running his fingers through the poor excuses for locs. His hands caught a few beads here and there. It felt nice.
“He was initially against it. It’s actually a pretty messy topic among humans, who's allowed to do what to their hair,” Spider huffed, leaning his head deeper into the other teen’s hands. When was the last time someone played with his hair? Kiri’s not touchy, and Lo’ak isn’t patient enough to play with his hair, “I guess I don’t really get it because I wasn’t born on Earth.”
“It needs to be washed,” Spider cracked an eye open, when had he closed them? “It smells.” Spider snorted. Probably yeah.
“I wanted dreads because Jake got dreads, after Darius initially did mine, I never really learned how to take care of them.” He mumbled. Where was Darius now? With the RDA? Dead? He missed the smiling dark man. Nash didn’t really let Darius touch Spider’s hair again after he locked it up the first time.
“Do you still want them now?” Ao’nung cupped the hair by slipped his hand around Spider’s neck and lifting upwards. Spider relaxed his spine as the other did so. His hand was still a bit damp, but it felt pleasant on his skin.
“I don’t know.” It slipped out of him before he even knew what he was saying. Did he want dreads anymore? Cutting it was going to leave him practically bald, ew. But taking it out will take hours, maybe even days. Hell, what would the rest of the Sully’s’ think of him removing his dreads? Would that send an unintentional message? Would he look ungrateful for them taking him into their fold?
“Well, if you do want them gone, I’d like to see your hair yellow-yellow.” Ao’nung tells him. Was that an offer? To do to his hair? To take hours out of his busy day to take care of Spider’s hair? Spider felt dizzy as the young Na’vi removed his hands.
“What are you doing here?” Spider leans back, head still swooping from the possible offer. Ao’nung rolls his eyes and snorts, tail shifting weight to the other side in his amusement. Did he just roll his eyes?
“Want me gone that badly?” He smirked as Spider felt a chuckle leave his throat. Ao’nung was something else.
“No, just curious what you’re doing all the way out here?” Spider shrugs his shoulders. This area was way out of his way. Ao’nung typically stayed on the South and West sides of the village. And the warriors train on the North side of the island. He doesn’t have much of a reason to stumble upon Spider on this side.
“Is it that weird for me to go looking for my friend?” Ao’nung was looking for him? Him? Ao’nung went looking for him? Spider swore his heart stopped working for a moment, his brain stopped thinking. Did he even remember how to breathe? Ao’nung came looking for him?
“I saw Kiri exiting this marui when Sa’nok called,” Ao’nung stretched his feet and tucked his head into a curl to look directly into Spider’s eyes, little smile flashing his pearly white fangs. His blond dreads shielded one side of his face. Hiding him from view when Ao’nung was sitting straight up beside him. “Thought you might be here.”
“Well, you found me.” Spider affirmed dumbly because what do you say to that? Ao’nung had been looking for him.
“Indeed, I did.” Ao’nung sits back up, Spider tilted his head up to keep eye contact. “So, what is all this?” He gestured to the empty paint bowl and powder, and grinding stone scattered throughout the rest of the Marui.
“What’s it look like?” Spider hummed, eyeballing the rest of the materials. Kiri had a habit of scattering things. Ao’nung reached around the fire pit to grab one pot of blue-dye flowers.
“You look naked.” It’s blunt and stupid and it makes Spider crack a smile. Ao’nung seems to realize this too, his laugh going through his nose.
“I feel naked.” He smiles as Ao’nung fiddles around with the petal he touched with his index.
“How often do you need to do this?” Ao’nung looks through his lashes, making Spider’s heart leap into his throat. He looked cute. When he wasn’t being an asshole. He’s slumped shoulders, wiggling toes kissing the sun, his shore-blue eyes. He’s fucking beautiful.
“If I do it right and have everything I need, it’ll last twenty-five to thirty eclipses.” He spots the whites of Ao’nung’s eyes expand. He must not have been expecting such a number. His thumb stopped rubbing the powder’s circle. Blue eyes blink slow, and Spider almost chokes.
“How was your day?” He feels a flush creeping up his neck as he looks away, he prays that Ao’nung has no idea what a blush is. Those eyes, Eywa, he’s gonna get lost staring in them. He’ll fall and drown; he’d let himself sink if Ao’nung would just keep looking at him like that. He was probably just staring at Spider’s unpainted physique, looking with fascination at the oddity that is the human body.
“It was nice, managed to knock Lo’ak down a step.” Ao’nung puffs out his chest and Spider scrunches his nose. He knows Lo’ak probably has a nice shiner or a concussion. Doesn’t surprise him that Ao’nung if starting to win those one-on-ones. Lo’ak seems to have a bone to pick with Ao’nung. He’s always demanding that they spar whenever Jake breaks them into pairs. Ao’nung was bound to pick up a thing or two after a few weeks.
“Kicked his ass then?”
"Tidied the floor with him." Ao’nung’s free hand grew large with excitement, ears popping forward for emphasis. Spider shook his head at the attempt at the human phrase in Na’vi, a smile stuck on his face like a sticker.
“Wiped the floor with him, you know, like dragging him around the way you drag around a hand cloth?” Ao’nung nodded in acknowledgment of the correction.
“I think I’m ready for our rematch, plonti.” Ao’nung reached out with the flower-free hand and gently pushed Spider’s shoulder. He flopped on the floor dramatically as Ao’nung howled in mirth.
The other was quiet for a moment, and Spider arched his back to see what his friend was doing. Ao’nung’s eyes were glued to his as Spider tilted his head enough to look at him. That easy smile returned. After a slow blink, his gaze furrowed, and his lips thinned. His tail tapped the floor twice, and Spider knew, he knows, Ao’nung wants to ask a question. Tingles dashed up his toes and grew into his spine before digging nails into his brain. He hates questions. He hates them. He hates them. He hates them. He hates them. He hates them. He hates them...
“You can ask, you know.” He responded with a brief and strained chuckle. Another thud of the tail.
“Are you…” Ao’nung hesitated, biting his lips as his eyes traced Spider’s form, searching for the right words, “ashamed to be human?” Spit was heavy in his mouth, and those bugs were nipping at his throat, pinchers digging into his brain.
Years of words, glares, and mutterings slammed into his chest. The first time he asked where his mommy and daddy were, and answered with a mix of pity and disgusted scowls. Scoldings for running outside, in the sun, in the rain, in the mountains, and in the rivers. Where he doesn’t belong. He can’t breathe out there. Stop going out there! His failed attempts at riding the pali when children half his age can. How the other kids would make fun of him when he wiped the mud off his mask. How he couldn’t eat the sweet desserts like Kiri or Lo’ak could. How he couldn’t sing with the tribe. How he couldn’t dance with the adult humans when they were celebrating an Earth holiday. Watching video recordings of the great battle over and over and over and over and over and over when no one was tending to him at ten years old. Why none of the kids would even look at him. Why he wasn’t allowed to touch the Tree of Souls. Hungry stomachs growling throughout the night when the adults forgot to ask if he had eaten at the Sully’s, but he wasn’t allowed to use the stove yet. Being locked in the awful room. That awful, awful room when Nash asked; "Why can’t you get it in your thick, fucking, messed-up head that they don’t want you there!" Burnt villages and destroyed land. Hard metal and fingers plunging into his cerebellum. Cracking gunshots across the deck...
“Wouldn’t you be?” Words crept out of his teeth and slid over his bitten tongue. It didn’t matter how quiet the words were; Ao’nung’s ears would always be able to hear any sound he made.
“Perhaps a year ago, when I thought I knew everything.” The Metkayina rolled his wrist as his attention drifted from Spider’s body to the rolling waves, hitting the reef barrier in the distance. His profile was rounded and smooth, with no particularly sharp jawlines yet. Ao’nung was still young. His face was long, reminding him of Norm’s. His ears were naturally sharp and smaller, like most of his tribe’s. Max would tell you it had to do with their evolution, probably better for underwater travel or diving. But in some twisted way, it looked like Dad’s. Although the RDA cropped his for some sick reason. A prominent forehead like Mo’at’s. A nose curved, although a bit pointed for a Na’vi. Kind of like Kiri’s. His blue eyes were like Jake’s in his old video logs. Everything about him was like a collage of familiar features. “However, I’ve learned there is a difference between humans and demons.”
His matted hair poked the back of his shoulders as he sucked his teeth.
“I have seen both, Spider. I know both. Humans are different, yes, in the way they do things and how they express themselves. But that does not make them bad. They can be just as kind, loyal, and honest. They stick up for people they care about and fight tooth and tail for their family.” It was like getting punched, but he couldn’t fight back. It was those same rivers he was kicked out of as a child, filling up his lungs. “Demons, demons do not care who they hurt, what they destroy. They listen to orders and not the cries of kids or the elderly. They burn families apart and kill Eywa’s children for submission. You are no demon.”
He needed to close his eyes and process. It took everything to keep his breaths even and not let a sniffle rack his frame. Pushing half-crescent moons into his palms, he counted to ten.
“Please, do not be ashamed of being a human, Spider.” There’s a hand over one of his wrists, the other hand prying at his hand, swallowing the appendage. Spider couldn’t even begin to imagine how he’s coming off. Na’vi have no concept of self-harm or suicidal tendencies. He relaxed his hands if only to stop scaring Ao’nung.
He could only shake his head. It’s agony; what does he say? Because Ao’nung doesn’t know. He could never know what it’s like to be the outcast, the scapegoat, the reason to blame. Ao’nung doesn’t know, and he’s wrong. Ao’nung is oblivious, so, so oblivious, and he's so damn wrong. Human nature, it's a festering pit of greed and evil. At some twisted juncture, he'll inevitably succumb to it, becoming just like the rest. The desire gnaws at him—it's a craving, an insatiable thirst for revenge. He hungers for the twisted satisfaction of returning to the RDA, methodically dismembering each of his tormentors. Air thickening with the grotesque symphony of their pleas for mercy, a wonderful perverse melody that fuels his nightmares. There would be no respite; Some visions refuse to cease until he metamorphoses into a grotesque mirror image of them. Actions ruthless, his methods brutal, as he unleashes upon them the same visceral agony, they callously imposed upon him. Carving them open as living kills. He would live up to his name.
“It’s not just being a human, Ao.” Spider found himself finally saying when he could breathe again. It’s so much more, so much more. Kiri and Lo’ak, Tuk and Neteyam have human heritage too, but nobody expects them to be genocidal maniacs just like their own- he cuts himself off. He can’t go down that road yet. Not until he can find it in himself to sit down and talk to Jake. About his life before Eywa’eveng. “I can never be part of the people, and the humans don’t see me as one of theirs. I don’t feel like a human, but what’s it supposed to feel like being a human? I grew up around both, yet I’m somehow neither.”
He didn’t get a response for a while. And it actually felt nice. Whereas Kiri would immediately reassure him, and Lo’ak would tell him he’s thinking too hard about it, Ao’nung was regarding him. Ao’nung’s eyes wandered hard, over him, over the empty bowl, the hut, the sea. He was thinking. Thinking about Spider’s words. What he said, how he feels. It’s bittersweet. The glob of misery and Ao’nung’s intention of seeing Spider wars over his mind.
“I don’t know why the humans don’t see you. But why hasn’t the Omaticaya taken you into the people? You’re old enough to go through Iknimaya, and even if you can’t be a warrior, you were a child born to Eywa. They birthed Toruk Makto to the people. Someone should have taken a child in.” Ao’nung’s eyes were hard. Not cold or angry, just confused. He rolled Spider’s pale hand over and rubbed his fingers over the smaller digits.
“My father, he led the war on the Na’vi. He wasn’t very good to the scientists either. They all hated him. My mother helped him during the great battle.” Spider waited for his grip to tighten and snap his bones, or for Ao’nung to release him like he was burnt from the exchange. He waited for Ao’nung to get up and leave. He waited for the young warrior to call him vrrtep. He waited for Ao’nung to walk away and never look at him again. He waited for Ao’nung to hate him.
“And?” That’s not what he was expecting. And? He knows that he is resented for his father. He knows that everyone waits for him to grow bitter and lead a war all his own. Genetics. He had bad blood. It ran through his very heart.
"Neytiri’s father, her sister, and her fated mate were killed by my father’s warriors. My family took so much from her. She and Jake are worried that I could take more, I almost did.” Ao’nung grasps his pinky, wiggling it a little. “Lo’ak came back for me at the battle of Three Brothers, Neteyam came with him. Neteyam was almost killed because of me. If I just would have stayed in the ship and not gone out, Neteyam wouldn’t have almost died. I almost lived up to Neytiri’s expectations of me. Of everyone’s expectation of me.” His voice is wet and wobbly. He sounds gross. He is gross. Ao’nung’s hands wander to grip his other hand, making circles with his thumb on Spider’s palm.
“If they did not go back for you, what would have happened?” Ao’nung is pacifying, like a mother hushing her babe in the summer storms. What Spider would have done as a kid to have someone soothe him during the summer storms.
“I would have been taken back to the RDA, and…” put back in the Torus. There is no way Quaritch would have been able to get him out. He would have died getting his mind shredded, clipped and juiced. He would have been questioned until he was comatose. His body would have been paraded around the city, an effigy of siding with the natives.
“And what, Spider?” Ao’nung’s gripping his wrists, he can’t pull away, he’s dragged into a sitting position, and all he can do to avoid Ao’nung’s intense gaze is look down. Everything was phasing in and out, the dark brown of the floor was blurring together with Ao’nung’s blue legs to make some incomprehensible shade of static.
Jake would have left him to it. He would have let Spider be cracked open and devoured. Fucking Cerberus, deciding who stays in the land of the living and the land of the dead. No one was coming to save him. He knew it the moment he was coherent. He accepted it after the third physical ‘interrogation’. He mourned it after the second round in the Torus. Leave the son to Ivan the Terrible. Fucking Jake, fucking Neytiri, fucking scientists and fucking Quaritch, they had created his ending before he was born. Before he spoke his first word. He was to die at the hands of their war.
“You’re angry,” A forehead is pressed to his own, at least a little of his forehead is exposed. It’s damp and smooth. Tough like a flexible piece of alloy. “Please, talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But you’re pissed.”
That word Ao’nung gets right, and it makes Spider look up at him, despite the clear stripes he knows that paint his face. He’s wheezing and it's wretched, but it feels good. Ao’nung makes him feel good. Ao’nung smiles at his miserable giggles, but it’s incredible. He said a human word right to make Spider smile. God fucking dammit.
“How did you know?” His mask is trying to compensate for all the oxygen he’s using, and it's slowly getting louder as it whirrs. Ao’nung doing that soft smile again and he feels better. It’s like Kiri, but somehow it feels even more special. He hasn’t seen Ao’nung show it anywhere else but him, and it’s heartbreaking in the best way.
“Your hair here,” He taps the glass on his mask, where his eyebrows lay, “They dipped a little in as they move close together, and your nose scrunches up when you are mad.”
“Who told you that? Lo’ak?” Spider’s surprised at how well Ao’nung described the movement of the eyebrows. Na’vi rely on the movement of the tail and ears to be the primary physical descriptors of body postures, with eyes and nose being secondary.
“No one, I learned.” Oh. Ao’nung learned his physical postures. He studied his alien body language to comprehend how Spider communicated non-verbally. Oh. Bubbles gather in his gut, and nerves ignite as Ao’nung releases his grip on Spider’s thinner wrists, latching onto his shoulders instead.
“Tell me what upsets you. Really.” Spider’s seen movies of dams. They don’t exist anywhere on Eywa’eveng, that he knows. He understands the concept of pressure and shear stress and tensile breakage. But only now does he understand the phase ‘Like a dam bursting’. It’s so much all at once and it leaks through his soul, his bones, it fills his blood and his mind. Everything falling apart, despite the careful labor to fill every cranny, crook, and crack.
“It’s stupid.” Because in hindsight it is. For every emotional response, Spider had a hundred logical reasons why he couldn’t feel angry about anything. He knows why everything has happened the way it has. He understands why Na’vi won’t acknowledge him, he knows why the scientists avoid him. They had their reasons. They see his Dad.
“If it upsets you, then it is not stupid.” Ao’nung let go of him and he misses the warmth wrapped around him. A body of armor, a shield, a wall. It’s kept the monsters at bay. Ao’nung’s was Hephaestus. His words were divine creations. Swaying teal stripes wove intricate patterns that bested the artistry of all those ancient gods he was taught about. His blue was the shield of the golden warrior. It is in the shadow of Achilles that Hephaestus' caerulean fingers find resonance, for like the shield of Achilles, they chose to carry the burden of hatred. Achilles, the Greek tragedy. Desecrating the large corpse of Hector, a loving mother, for a vial of immortality. Achilles forced to kill under the reign of Agamemnon, the demon king. In the hands of Ao'nung, the blue shields the pariahs.
“I get mad at them sometimes.” He whispers the word like glass, teetering on a cliff. What if Ao’nung thinks he’s in the wrong? But it's already out there. Spider feels the skin of his forehead raise as he looks up. Ao’nung is still looking at him, no judgment residing in those eyes. Maybe that will change, but for the moment, its roots a pleasantness in his soul. Ao’nung nods for him to continue, and he needs to warn him, “You’re going to think I’m a vrrtep.”
“No vrrtep here, just you, plonti.” His voice is sweeter than all the prayers he’s heard Ninat sing. It makes him swallow thickly. The blonde blinks twice. Where does he even begin? It’s not a revenge story. He doesn’t have it out for anyone, except the RDA. Always the RDA. But somebody needs to hear it all. Hear him. See him through his eyes, even if it’s just once.
“Jake killed my mother, and Neytiri killed my father.” It doesn’t start how he wants it to, but it's somewhere. “My parents were wrong; they tried to kill the Na’vi, who didn’t want harm to come to Eywa. My parents were bad people. But, I wonder… if that’s all they were, or if that’s just what they were remembered for.”
He needs to make space for himself, Ao’nung’s too close right now. He’s in the other’s striking range. He needs to be able to bolt in case Ao’nung thinks he’s a traitor. He’ll die on his own terms, not a young warrior’s fit of rage. “And sometimes I just hate them. I get fucking pissed at them. They orphaned me. Orphaned me! Both of them!” He has a feeling his eyes are wild. He’s shoulders as tight as an acrobat on a wire.
“My parents took away some of what Neytiri had in the world, but they took away everything I had. I can’t breathe the fucking air, Ao. I couldn’t touch sunlight until I was six.” He hiccups through the sentence, and it hurts, “They do not get to act like I’m the murderer, I’m the weapon, I’m a killer. I was a few days old, and they took away my mother.” He growls it, and he’s pacing the room, like a caged tiger. A predator confined to its little box, unable to get out and be part of the world.
“Jake killed way more people back on earth; he was a marine, he burned villages, he killed infants and elderly, and raped women and laughed with his friends about it. I watched the videos, I met his squad, I met his human kids. I know they only wanted me to help them, but he’s a monster, just as much as my parents were or worst,” Fingers running through his scalp and he's yanking his hair. He had swapped between English words and Na'vi ones because the Na'vi have no concept of some human things. All that fire, all those people, just corpses upon corpses, tulkun, Na’vi and human, “But Jake’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever gotten growing up. He’d let me learn along with Lo’ak and Neteyam. I wanted him to love me; I just wanted him to look at me too.”
He can’t look at Ao’nung; he refuses to. It’s coming out or Ao’nung is standing over his bleeding, broken body; either way, he’s getting his relief. “Sometimes I just get so angry at all of them. But I can’t! I can’t blame Kiri, or Lo’ak, or Neteyam, or Tuk! Never Tuk,” The words only creep out of his mouth rather than blare, “If I blamed them, I’d be no better than everyone else. They were only babies.” He can only curl his fists at the thought of being upset with his siblings over something they couldn’t control; it’s not their fault.
“Why would you be mad at them?” Massive fingers are curling around his stinging palms. When the hell did Ao’nung get up and move? He wasn’t exactly light, and he made a considerable amount of noise outside the water.
“If my parents would have won, if the RDA got to tell the story of the great battle, would everything have been different?” His lips are wobbling, and his chin is doing that gross crinkling thing, and he can’t get his fists to relax. Who lives. Who dies. Who gets to tell the story? That’s the basics of history. He feels so bad about scaring Ao’nung and dumping all this shit on him. “Would I have been Neteyam? Would I be the golden child? Would I have had friends that liked me and how I look? Would I have siblings that I could play with freely? Would I have had those stupid nighttime stories told to me in a family pile?” Years of sitting off to the side and secondhand tales are fueling his unending rage. It’s creaking his voice and stabbing him in the heart over and over, “Would I have had my height measured on my birthday? Would I have had a family that loves me, if Jake and Neytiri would have just died?” It hisses out of his throat, and he wrenches his hand away from Ao’nung’s grip. It’s a fight to pull away from him; however, the Metkayina relents. All Spider can do is wrap his arms over each other and tuck his head away in shame. It’s all out there.
“If I told anyone how I felt sometimes, they’d say I was just like my father, and that everyone was right.” Spider risks it and looks back at the other, “So, do you see a vrrtep yet?”
The only sound is the lapping waves below the marui, hitting the roots of the trees in a repetitive, soothing manner. Like the conversation never happened. Spider waits for Ao’nung to spit in his face and to walk away. For him to curse Eywa’s wrath upon him and to disrupt the sound of the waves with his flee into the ocean. To walk away from him and never look at him again. He waits for another Neteyam.
He can’t bear to watch Ao’nung go. Whatever is left of his heart will just powder and blow away at the next ocean breeze. He heard the Marui floor creak. And arms wrap around him. A chin’s weight on the top of his head. Every piece of his skin is buzzing. He feels himself lift rattling hands to the broad azure forearm. He’s not sure what’s happening. All thoughts flee from him as heat just rolls through his body. It’s so damn tight in his throat, and it hurts so, so bad.
“It wasn’t fair, was it?” The words are more felt than heard, but that doesn’t matter because all Spider cares about is wiggling his body closer to Ao’nung's chest. Feeling his heartbeat hold him, choosing to keep him close. After settling his arms around the younger’s waist, he just tilts his head so his ear is just slightly above Ao’nung’s gut. He just listens.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
His heartbeat. Steady and strong. He breathes in deep as Ao’nung inhales. It feels so fucking good. To just hear his heartbeat, his breath, his very essence. He clings his fingers around him tighter.
“No.” And it’s all Spider can manage to say because it wasn’t. He couldn’t stop two adults fucking like nantang before he was born. He didn’t ask to be here. He just was, and had to deal with two dead people’s consequences.
“I’d defend Eywa’eveng with my dying breath Ao, it’s my home. I love Eywa, I love her children; I hope you know that.” He needs to let Ao’nung know that he doesn’t want to go back to the RDA, he doesn’t want to be with the humans. “It’s just that, they left me, and the RDA hurt me so bad… I guess I just don’t like them sometimes.”
Ao’nung just hums his reply, not in a condescending way. Just to let him know he’s been heard, and it helps him breathe. It opens his throat and lets air finally, finally get to his lungs. A pressure holds the side and back of his head, pressing him closer to the ocean Na’vi’s chest. Closer to those tiny thuds that make Spider feel safe. Here, right here, he’s able to just fall apart. And not once was he compared to his father. Ao’nung is his driftwood in the raging North Sea. His the light at the end of the tunnel. The kindness of Eywa providing a meal.
It's only after he’s inhaling that he notices how Ao’nung seems to follow. He recognizes that his smaller, weaker, louder pulses, have become synchronized with Ao’nung's rhythm of life.
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
Everything just relaxes. It’s some kind of indescribable feeling. Like he could sleep right here, standing with Ao’nung in some abandoned marui on the East side of the village. What a world huh? He abruptly speculates if this is what it’s like when his siblings go home and curl up with their parents or each other, and not have to fear about getting crushed or hissed at.
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. There was no reason for him to act like that earlier. It was uncalled for and out of line. He laid way too much on his friend, and he feels guilty. This was his bag of piss, he needed to deal with it.
Ao’nung merely tilts himself to the floor, bringing Spider along with him. He sits cross-legged, with him in his lap. Spider is chest to chest with him, before Ao’nung’s hand tangled in Spider’s hair, pushing his head towards his neck. He can’t find any will to pull away or argue with the younger. His limbs are like hot resin in Ao’nung’s hands.
It’s another deep breath in and out before Ao’nung speaks; the buzzing of his vocal cords is like a lullaby sung only for him. His eyes droop, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You are a person too; you have feelings. Including anger.”
“Hey Ao.” Spider wished he could mumble the words against Ao’nung’s skin. Instead, he had a piece of plexiglass separating from blue, taunt skin.
“Yes plonti.” Humor leaks into the sound. It’s reassuring. Ao’nung is just being Ao’nung. No remarkable change in the way he’s speaking to him. He’s just as gentle as he was before. Spider uncrosses his legs to straddle Ao’nung thin waist. The foreign skin is unusual to his inner thigh.
“You’re still hugging me.” He’s implying a question. It’s there. Open in the air, hanging, looming. Like a spider from a web. He remembered watching ‘Charlotte’s web’ the first time. How the little insect dangled from the ceiling.
“Yes.” Ao’nung is going to make him ask then. Little shit.
“Why?” He falls into the lap. Ass to ground, legs dangling over Ao’nung’s strong thighs, and body tilted backward so he can look directly at the Na’vi’s face. His armpits rest on Ao’s knees.
“You’re not ready yet.” Arms shift under him to pull him back up, legs shifting underneath him to get him off the ground. He slings his hands around the teal neck and just holds because he’s not ready to let go. He doesn’t want to. There’s a pregnant pause, the waves being carried by the breeze. Tree leaves rustle above them.
"Are you ready for your Iknimaya?” This causes him to bounce slightly with the shrug of his shoulders. It’s jostling and startling as much as it's endearing. The younger throwing him around without trying.
“I’m ready to finally be an adult.” Is he ready? Or does he just want to fight for his home? Spider grasps the need to prove one’s worth. But to throw away childhood before one’s time? That’s a cruelty that can’t ever be justified. Ao’nung shouldn’t have to be an adult before he’s ready.
“Why? You have a whole life to be an adult, and that's a long time.” It scares him to be honest. Because it’s true. Once you cross that line, you can’t go back. He’ll be expected to give up everything for this tribe. His heart, his desires, his life. Ao’nung is younger than he is, and sometimes he wonders what his life means here anyway. Ao’nung shouldn't have doubts about what his life is worth, not when he’s a child. Not ever.
“How long do you get to be an adult?” It’s a fair question, but one that he’s not proud of. He learned from a tendered age that humans didn’t go through Iknimaya to become an adult in the eyes of their people; they merely survived. That alone would prove that they are worthy. He would socially be an adult at eighteen. The same as passing most of the Iknimaya. And fully mature at twenty-five. The equivalent of completing it. But while he’d be the last to be mature among his friends, he’d be the first to die.
“Na'vi live to like two hundred seasons, dude, and finishing Iknimaya at sixteen seasons means like one hundred and eighty-four seasons of responsibilities, pressure, and stress. Not to mention you’re going to be Olo'eyktan.” Spider’s rambling, he knows he is. He’s used to Jake telling him to cut it short or for Lo’ak to tease him about speaking so much and saying so little. Neteyam used to just walk away shaking his head when Spider would ramble, and Kiri would nod off. Yet the hour’s been full of emotional whiplash, so he’ll cut himself some slack. It’s not so bad rambling when he’s in Ao’nung’s arms.
“How long do you get to be an adult for?” Ao’nung waits until he’s paused for a breath. There seems to be no beating around the bush with him. Clearly, he’s figured out that Spider will steer off topic to avoid a question.
“I become a mature adult at twenty-five. Humans are supposed to have eighty seasons.” Spider sighs. He remembered the first time Kiri cried when she heard that. It pained him more that his sister was so distraught for him than actually hearing that he’d move on to Eywa before all his friends.
“Fifty-five seasons.” The words sound sticky on his tongue. There was a lot that was gummy about human death. No Great Mother or Father to return to. No connection to speak to loved ones long gone. Short life spans. It sucked. “So why don’t you want to grow up then?”
This has him swallow his words over and over. What even brought Ao’nung to this conclusion? “What makes you think I don’t want to grow up?”
“You make it sound awful.” He feels the tips of his locs being played with. A twist here and a gentle tug there. He must be examining the wooden carved beads.
“I was only allowed to stay here after the Great Battle because as a baby, the trip would have killed me.” Spider speaks gently, and he feels okay telling him this. There’s pressure he didn’t know was there, just lifting, “Jake and the scientist wanted to send me back at some point when I became an adult. When we win the war,” Because they will. They have no other option but victory.
“And they send the sky people away again, assuming Jake doesn't have them all slaughtered, he'll probably send me back too.” Ao’nung lungs press against his chest, and he reciprocates the action.
“You fath-Jake claimed you as his son; he wouldn't send you back.” Spider sucks his teeth because they don’t know that. He doesn’t know it, and Ao’nung can’t be certain. Neytiri would. And Jake loves Neytiri. “Besides, your siblings wouldn't let that happen.”
“They can’t stop him. I’m a stray.” There’s a pause in the conversation. He barely hears the water patting the roots over their heartbeats.
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
Ao’nung has no idea what that means. There’s not a single Na’vi that has even formulized something similar. The closest thing the teen could use is Payakan, and even that is a stretch. Tulkun are not pets, and the injured creature is-was an outcast.
“I’m not his son, Ao’nung. He called me a stray. It’s a human thing. Sky people take care of animals. Not quite like Na’vi do though. They bring certain animals into their homes. Sometimes the animals are a toy for their children. A pet is kind of like family, but not quite as important. You feed them, and let them sleep with you, but in a fire, the parents would always pick saving their kids over their pets. It’s just an animal that the family wants around.” He gulps, but he’s not a pet. “A stray is a pet that the parents don’t want around; it just follows the family.”
“But you said a pet is wanted. A pet that’s unwanted is just an…” Ao’nung drifts off, hushing himself. Because Spider knows that’s not what he’s saying or implying. He’s not calling Spider some wild beast that trails the Sully’s like an Earth vulture, pecking away at the scraps of affection tossed away after.
“A stray, yeah,” Spider hums. He takes his index to trace shapeless patterns into Ao’nung’s back, then curling under his rib cage and across his chest. He follows the natural contrasting blues as he thinks about his place as the family stray. It’s a little more fine than it was yesterday, or the day before that or the day before that.
“I won’t let him-“
“Please, no promises Ao.” And he means it. Ao’nung’s no Olo'eyktan, no Toruk Makto, no Colonel; he has no power. Not for a long time coming. He can’t promise to protect Spider from Jake, or Neytiri or the humans. If he makes a promise and breaks it, Spider’s terrified that he’ll hate him forever.
Promise we’ll always be best friends Teyam?
I promise Spi.
“Can I tell you something?” Ao’nung’s voice is tentative, and Spider squeezes his gut to refrain from laughing. Because after all of this, after all of Spider’s almost screaming, almost hissing and breaking down, Ao’nung is asking for his mutual trust, his confidence. It’s thrilling.
“Always, bright eyes.” This pulls a chuckle from deep in the other’s gut. It’s breathtaking how he can feel how real the emotion is. How honest he is with his laughter.
“I…” Spider tilts his protected face to press whatever forehead he has exposed to the Metkayina’s bony sternum. A thin appendage wandered over his hips, light tugging as the extra fat layering his stomach before tracing lines around his shoulders and back. “I feel inadequate to lead my people.”
Oh. That’s new. Like really new. Ao’nung was insecure about something he was born for? He feels his brows lift briefly before nodding along the blue skin, accepting the information in stride.
“Why?” It’s something. He’s not really sure what the other teen is feeling, so the best place is to ask. It’ll all he can do at the moment. There’s a hitch in Ao’nung's breath, and the blonde knows this is deep. Ao’nung has a practiced, confident look. What the hell is making him nervous?
“I’m, I’m not Ronal’s son.” He confessed, Ao’nung curled his back, taking away his heat from Spider’s stomach. He nearly complains before the large’s head tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder. He folded his arm to protect some of Ao’nung’s back. “My Dad, he was mated to my mother before she died during a wet season storm. Ronal lost her mate a few seasons back.”
Sensing more to the tale, Spider just lets his fingers run down the muscular back. Trying to expand his shoulder to indicate his breath. To give Ao’nung something to fall into.
“Her family is the line that the clan follows.” Spider saw his blue ear flicks against the glass of the blonde’s mask. “It used to be talked about a lot before the Sully’s came. When my parents declared me the successor. Everyone thought it should have been Tsireya.” This made the older swallow a dry spot on his tongue. Ao’nung was, in someway, an outcast. Like them. Like the Sully kids. Like him.
“It should be Tsireya.” Ao’nung muttered against his skin. Spider understood the tone. The same thing that curled and burrowed deep in his bones often. Something that never left him, no matter how he shook it like a dog.
“You feel guilty.” The Na’vi sucked in a breath. Right on the money then. Spider used both hands to rub the patterned skin up and down. He kept all judgment out of his voice. Ao’nung trusted him. Being vulnerable with him. He’d be just as sympathetic back.
“The others, they treated me nicer once it was decided.” His voice was wet. Spider kept his honey brown eyes firmly forward. He’d give the other privacy. “I felt wanted. At the price of Tsireya’s birthright.”
Two thumps of the tail rattling emphasized Ao’nung's distraught.
“They listened to me when I spoke, and they asked me to go hunting with them, and I felt seen in the eyes of the people.” He spoke with a dazed wander. Spider can only wonder what Ao’nung’s life had been like before and after his choosing. Had he been a freak? “No one made fun of my right-handedness or my nose…” So, everyone did notice Ao’nung's more human-like nose. It wasn’t just him.
“I think my parents declared me so I would fit in more.” Ao’nung hugs him tight. Spider almost asks for him to loosen his grip when he has a hard time getting air back into his lungs. “I’ve just been trying to fit in, and I…I feel bad about it.”
He hums as he thinks about what Ao’nung’s told him. He likes feeling important; Spider can sympathize. He gets the crave for approval and affection. The pant for praise. Being starved for acceptance. It just registered how Ao’nung tended to use his right hand more than his left. If he was naturally right-handed, then he must have trained himself to be like the others. It must have sucked.
His mother died too. He knows what it’s like, and so does Kiri.
“Have you met her?” It gets Ao’nung to look up at him, cheek still pressed into his tan shoulder. He just wants to know.
“No, she died when I was less than a season. They weren’t able to lay her body with Eywa,” Spider feels some type of reverberation. That he gets better than anyone. Kiri was an orphan too. She stuck by him thick and thin. She found family in him. But she had logs of her mother. She knows her mother’s voice. Her smile and frown. What she sounds like pissed and happy. Her mother’s habits. How her mother loves. She knew who Grace Augustine was.
“I know she loved you.” Spider feels some piece of himself sticking out there. Perhaps it was some self-projection of the words he wished someone would have told him, comforted him with. But the other part knows because he’s Ao’nung. He’s protective, and loving, he has such a fucking heart and he can only imagine how proud his mother was to see him.
“Thank you, I know your mother loved you too.” Maybe the other can feel parts of his mind, or just see it in his eyes because Spider knows how ugly he gets when he cries, and he hates that Ao’nung gets to see all of it. He just sees Spider. All of him, the good, the bad, the weak, and the ugly, but he still chooses to see him.
“You didn’t steal anything, you know,” His voice is just as wet as Ao’s and he wonders how pathetic the pair look in this abandoned Marui crying together over the smallest things that have destroyed their hearts over their entire lives. He loves it. “Your parents made such a good decision. You are going to take such good care of your people. I know it because I see you.”
“I see you too, Spider.” Ao’nung whispers over his heaving breath. Spider can see how the other hears his words, how Ao’nung hears him. Sees him. He’s crying those awful tears, and he couldn’t be happier. “I see you.” Although his hands only just graze at the tips around the Metkayina’s chest, he clutches and squeezes, hoping to convey how much the other’s words mean to him.
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
Thump (Thump) Thump (Thump).
“Can,” The larger’s voice added to the echoing of their heartbeats. “Can I paint you?”
He wants to do his stripes. He’s never had anyone else do his stripes, outside of Quaritch. They were part of him. Who he was. How he laid claim to Kiri and Lo’ak. Or were they laying their claim on him? Ao’nung would do an awful job if he didn’t use his pattern to copy from. It would be there for thirty days. What could Lo’ak and Kiri think? What could everyone else think?
“I’d like that.” It just came out. Where it came from, he has no idea. Maybe the bottom of his soul where everything is singing. Why not at this point? Ao’nung knows why he wants his stripes. Probably more than Kiri and Lo’ak do.
“How do we make the color?” Ao’nung asks, and regardless of the question, he hasn’t pulled away from the crook of Spider’s neck. He’s still waiting for Spider to be ready to let go. And he is.
It’s surprisingly easy to untangle himself from the cerulean skin. It’s not a heavy weight pressing against his skin, telling him to hold on for just a little bit longer. He doesn’t need to pry his fingers away from the warm flesh like it’s the last hug he’ll get. He knows he can always just go back in for another one if he wants it. Eywa, does it feel heavenly. If he had the option, he might choose Ao’nung’s embrace over Eywa’s.
The empty marui is nothing short of laughter, bad jokes, shitty puns, and wheezing instructions as Spider has the teen ground up the kernels into a sappy paste and properly add the correct pinches of flower to create the base paint. He explains how the stripes look wrong unless he uses his pattern. He watches carefully as the other follows his instruction to a dot, Spider’s satisfaction.
“What combination of dye flowers do we use to get Omaticaya blue?” Ao’nung smacks his tan thigh with his tail. He looks for a red glow along the skin. Amazingly enough, there wasn’t. Rolling his darker eyes, he crawls between the Metkayina’s squatted legs to peer at the selections of flora to use.
“Would it be okay if we match the color to your blue instead?” Spider feels bold. He prays every prayer he knows that Ao’nung isn’t going to laugh in his face at the request. Would it mean that he’s asking Ao’nung to lay a claim, or does it not run that deep? Never has been something he’s needed to define before. Since it’s always been his brother and sister, he’s never had to wonder what it meant before. Does the meaning apply differently to different people?
What would it mean if Neteyam painted him?
Jake?
Norm?
Z-Dog?
Mo’at?
Tuk?
Neytiri?
Ao’nung?
What does he mean?
“Personally, I think that would be much better on you,” Ao’nung pinches some of the western morning tree flowers into the mortar, along with reef lilies. He hums some tribal tune, either not registering or completely ignoring Spider’s gaping mouth.
“Why?” He manages to finally ask as the younger pulls out the pestle and dips a finger. Ao’nung pulls the digit away, light blue almost invisible against his skin. Only the dripping, syrupy texture distinguishes itself. Ao’nung does that smile again. The one with his mouth closed, his eyes blinking slow and, ears tilted a little back. The one that makes Spider feel like he’s falling. That one. He presses two fingers along the scar on Spider’s chest, dragging the paint.
“Because you look like mine.”
It’s not ‘yours’ look like ‘mine’. No, there’s no other way to read it. It’s not the gentle possession of ma’ that Neytiri uses for her children or for Jake. It’s the word ‘mine’. He knows that word so well, Kiri and Lo’ak use to screech enough while fighting over toys as kids. Mine. Not ‘He’s borrowing your shirt as a nightgown because there are no baby clothes on this moon’. Not, ‘He’s only sleeping with you in your room temporarily until he’s grown enough to sleep safely in a cleared-out closet’. Not, ‘you can’t touch that; it’s for the baby’. Not ‘you don’t belong here’. It’s you are mine; stay.
‘You’ and ‘Mine’.
Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine…
His. He wants Spider. He wants him. Like lines of code across the screen, the words play in front of his eyes. The thought is echoing in his head. The sensation of ‘mine’ in his worn bones. He’s wanted. He’s going to break, and squeak and fall apart. There are no words for this. How do you tell someone that’s all you’ve ever wanted? That they are giving you the thing that you’ve thought about nonstop since you became aware of the world? Of everything in it? Of everything you lacked.
Spider's eyes trace patterned thighs beside him, and he dips his fingers into the paint, working the same pattern onto his own. Mine. Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine.
“Heh, I guess I do.” And Ao’nung’s right, he does look like his.