Chapter Text
Yelling could be heard from a distant room, the noise a stark contrast to the silence Ìlei sat in. His ears only gave a miniscule twitch in response. He was otherwise preoccupied, staring at the back of his sister’s head, fingers softly braiding her hair.
“It’s loud,” she said, voice light.
Ìlei only grunted in response, concentrated on gently working out a stubborn knot. Her hair was long now— he had half the mind to take a knife to it. He always thought short hair suited her best. Oarì, however, wanted her hair to look like their mother’s.
His hands were steady, used to the intricate designs she always asked for. The yelling continued down the hall, no sign of slowing down. Whatever curiosity he felt was miniscule. His only concern was his sister and nothing else.
Letting go, he watched as Oarì brought her hands up to her hair. She giggled, feeling the braids coming down over her shoulders, the rest of her hair loose on her back. He knew to not make them tight, the braids only beginning a little above her shoulders.
“Go eat,” he murmured, standing to stretch. “I will watch.”
Oarì only blinked, a little furrow appearing on her brow. He knew that stubborn look on her face. She did not enjoy eating alone.
“I want to eat with you,” she insisted, her hands coming up to grip his arm. “Please.”
She still only barely reached his chest at 8 years old. Ìley himself was 13— not yet an adult, but close enough he thought.
Ìley put a hand on her head, brushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. Oarì already looked displeased, a knowing pout on her face. He was an unmovable force at times. She knew this. Stubbornly, that would never stop her from trying anyways. They were similar like that.
“Go eat with Mama,” he nudged her, ignoring the sour taste now at the back of his throat.
A quick glance showed the older woman staring listlessly at nothing, eyes dull. Their mother sat where she always sat— weakly curled up in the corner of the room, farthest from the door. He could not name how he felt about her, but his sister adored her regardless. If he concentrated, he could still feel the warmth of her breath from when she sang sweet lullabies to him. That was a long time ago.
Oarì scowled, but said nothing as he guided her towards their mother. His hand felt cold against the warmth of her shoulder. Halfway there, she shrugged him off, only stumbling once as she held a hand out to feel for their mother.
Oarì was blind. Not completely, but her light eyes could only make out shapes and shadows. Nothing else. She was born this way. He remembered his mother breaking down, wailing at being so cursed by Eywa. Not only was her son deformed with his five fingers and cursed eyebrows, but now her daughter could not see the world as Eywa had made it.
After birth, a mother is meant to form tsaheylu with the child. It strengthens the bond between a mother and her baby. For three days, she refused to make tsaheylu with Oarì. Ìlei had been his sister’s first bond. For three days, he had hated his mother.
“Mama,” Oarì murmured, reaching out to touch her mother’s face. “Are you hungry?”
Their mother was still for a moment, as if processing Oarì’s words, before finally beginning to focus her eyes. She was as pale as Oarì, but not as bright. Her hair was faded and ashen. Ìlei still remembered when his mother was beautiful. She had a look of serenity to her in the past. Now, it feels cold.
“Oarì,” she murmured, voice hoarse from disuse. “Come.”
Ìlei only watched as Oarì became enveloped in her mother’s arms, her face softening as a child’s should in the hands of their mother. Bitterness threatened to flood his senses as he resolutely looked away, moving back towards the door to wait for their food to arrive. A small metal flap was situated at the bottom of the door, only large enough to fit the trays of food they received at mealtimes.
Unless, of course, they did something to warrant punishment.
At first, it was only Ìlei in danger of ever growing hungry. He was the only one capable of disobedience. His sister and mother rarely had the opportunity to go against their captors. Unfortunately, when his punishments did nothing to tame his insubordination, they turned on his family instead. His greatest weakness.
One night of listening to his sister cry out in hunger was enough to make him obey again. He had no doubt the RDA would do it as many times as needed to if he went against them again.
His ears twitched at the muffled sound of Oarì speaking to his mother and he could hear her childishly complaining about him, a petulant tone in her voice. His mother only paused in hesitation, glancing up to look at his tense stance. She didn’t say anything in response, moving on to ask Oarì how her day was spent. As if they had not resided in the same room together for the entirety of the day.
Finally hearing footsteps approach, Ìlei readied himself to grab the trays as they usually appeared quickly in a row, the guards uncaring if they spilled over one another. He’s sacrificed his food many times for his sister and mother. He wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.
The footsteps stopped outside the door and he could hear that the screaming had now stopped from down the hall. However, instead of any trays appearing, he noticed the lock being undone. Immediately he crouched, ears back as he situated himself in front of his mother and sister, baring his teeth. His sister squeaked in surprise, sharp ears hearing the door beginning to open as she burrowed back into her mother’s warmth. His mother curled up to hide Oarì, but made no other acknowledgment of the man now standing at the door.
“Come,” the human spoke, only looking at Ìlei.
Oarì hissed, hand possessively coming out to reach for her brother. Ìlei moved before she could make contact, listening to his mother comfort her. He towered over the human, glaring.
“Food,” he hissed, gesturing back at his family. “Now.”
Ìley preferred to avoid speaking English. Especially in front of his mother. He did not need to give her more reason to call him a vrrrtep. A demon.
The human stared at him impassively, before gesturing at the guards behind him to deposit the small trays of food into the room. He didn’t wait for a response before moving out, obviously expecting Ìlei to follow close behind. There was nothing else for him to do other than that, though he stole a look over his shoulder to see his sister morosely situated on her mother’s lap. His mother still spared him no attention. Not that he would have wanted any. Not that he would allow anyone to know he did.
It was brighter outside of the room, the lights casting long shadows as he followed the small human. Ìlei’s neck itched under the collar encasing it. He should be used to this all by now, and maybe he was, but his anger was not something that would ever fade with time. No, it’s only grown since he was young.
Any thoughts he had quickly fled his mind at the sight of a boy with blue stripes painted on him, snarling like a na’vi.