Chapter Text
Metal, blood, ash, and death.
It clung to the air for weeks. A constant, taunting reminder of everything that has happened, of everything they’ve lost.
If you stared at the water for long enough, you could almost see the specs of blood that was spilled in violence. A ghostly reminder of the souls that were taken too soon.
The wind carries the echoes of gunshots, metal scraping, children screaming, mothers wailing.
It had been months since the battle at Three Brothers Rocks.
Slowly. Day by day, those suffering from injuries steadily healed under the guidance of their Tsahik.
Those who laid still, unconscious, with their heart beating steady, slowly awoke one by one.
As the last unconscious Metkayina opened their eyes, their family crying tears of joy and thanking Eywa, Ronal felt as if she had resurfaced from the deepest depths of the ocean after far too long without air, taking her first breath of clean oxygen without the claws of fear and uncertainty squeezing her lungs.
She wanted to join in on the songs of happiness that her people sang as families were reunited, and homes were rebuilt. But she could not just yet, as there was still much to be done, still much to be prepared. The threat of an uncertain future hung around the tribe like suffocating ash that would not be blown away by the wind. No one could afford to let their guard down.
Despite the brutality of the battle, only 10 lives were lost. That was still 10 too many in Ronals opinion, but the numbers could have been higher. She silently thanks the great mother that they were not.
Her eyes roam over those who are under her careful watch in the healing marui. They lock on her next patient who is sitting against the woven walls with his mother by his side, gently caressing his injured shoulder.
Neytiri’s eyes hold heavy, unspoken words of fear, thankfulness, and what if’s.
Her eldest son’s brush with death had shaken the powerful walls of the Sully family 'fortress’.
The bullet had gone right through him. Leaving thick, blooming trails of red as his mother had cradled him in her arms as she raced to the healing tent.
Ronal recalls watching the Omaticaya woman pace endlessly like a captured palalukan with no way out of a trap, still fighting but also waiting for the inevitable.
Thankfully, the inevitable never came.
The bullet was a hair length away from his heart. Missing it by mere inches. Although death was no longer a possibility the family had to think of, the road of recovery was still rocky. With Neteyams arm bound and secured tightly in a sling, there was no sure telling how exactly his shoulder was going to heal. How much flexibility he would gain back. For now though, his family were thankful he was alive. His soul did not need to return to the Great Mother yet.
Ronal felt a slight sense of shame to admit that despite the Sully family being a part of their tribe, the people she and her mate dedicated their existence to protecting and caring for, deep in her heart she held resentment against them.
They were the reason this had all happened. The reason her spirit sisters soul was with Eywa instead of singing her songs alongside her clan and newborn calf in the oceans, the reasons parents lost sleep as they stayed awake with weapons at their side preferring to guard their young than to rest.
The reason that there was now a pink skin walking amongst them.
It had taken them all aback. Her people grabbed their spears and knives, hissing and shielding their young behind their own bodies as Toruk Makto stood in front of the demon. His hands held up and eyes pleading, the same way he looked when his family first asked for Uturu.
He stood before Olo’eykitan, asking for Uturu once again, for a pink skin. A demon.
The usual empathetic Tonowari was unmoved this time around. The pain of his people echoed fresh in his mind. He simply could not allow this.
The Tawtute, a mere child, she had learnt, stood silent with his face downcast. Ronal could almost see the same hurt, uncertainty, and fear that she had reflected on his pink face.
Something almost broke in her. Almost. She caught herself before her legs moved on their own accord, to stop her mate from refusing Uturu. Had she gone mad? This demon stood amongst them as the smoke of battle was still fresh in the air. And he thinks they would just take him in, arms open wide? Not this time.
Before her mate could deliver the final verdict, a strong voice had spoken out from the crowd. Who dared to oppose the Olo’eyktans decision? It sounded as if It was from a mighty warrior, strong and sure in her decision. Ronal, to her own and everyone else’s disbelief, watched as Tsireya walked with the authority of the Tsahik she was born to be. Her head held high and shoulders back. A fire in her eyes that her mother had seen in the battle returned as she stood against her father. Facing him, challenging him. She was followed close behind by Toruk Makto's second son, who held the same determination on his face.
Tonowari could hold his own against anyone his size or larger if needed. His resolve crumbled the moment his precious daughter was in front of him. She pleaded with her Father and Mother for the boy to stay. He was a great friend of the Sullys, a brother to the forest children. Could they grant him Uturu for a few days and they would see he is no threat?
So. Here they are now. The blonde boy, height so small, footsteps so quiet, seemed to appear anywhere there was help needed. At first Ronal witnessed many of her people chase him away, shoo him from any task he attempted to help with. A small part of her felt satisfaction in watching them do this. There was no place in their tribe for a demon, no matter what her precious daughter said.
But on the third day, he was spotted assisting an elder with a net she was preparing. Elder Fiyìl, a once mighty warrior, stoic and brave, sat with a smile on her face as she conversed with the demon. His nimble fingers took to their weaving methods quickly as they worked. Sharing stories and songs.
Tsahik could not believe her eyes.
Something had shifted, ever so silently, like the waves rearranging the sands.
He was spotted helping the fishermen with their hauls, helping young children find the prettiest shells to take home to their parents, and even assisting a pregnant woman with gathering a specific seaweed lodged within a tight cavern of rock for medicines.
More than once he had reappeared after hours out in the thick of the jungle. At first, her people suspected he was up to no good. Hiding where they could not follow and sharpening his weapons, or delivering intel to more demons. The RDA, Jake had called them.
Fear was crushed as he arrived home with a large basket on his back, carrying sweet fruit that could only be found growing on the tallest of trees. A haul so big that would take far longer and three times the number of Metkayina to gather. He passed it around the tribe at the communal fires. Many held suspicions and rejected the offer. What good would come from a tawtute giving fruit? Surely he had done something to it. Poisoned it maybe?
A few brave souls pealed back the rough purple skin eagerly, biting into the sweet treat without hesitation.
Ronal breathed a sigh of relief when seeing those same Metkayina walking around healthy as a dire horse the next day.
Maybe the pink skin was nothing to worry about. Perhaps she could let her guard down. He was no Metkayina, he was almost as bad a swimmer as his so called brothers and sisters when they first arrived. And you could never not notice his lack of a kuru, or blue skin and dark hair. But no one could deny that he was useful.
Gathering hard to find herbs and fruits in less than an hour. Learning quickly their ways of crafting nets and weaving baskets. Learning how to use their spears and hunt with the fishermen. Maybe her daughter had been right.
A week came and went. The boy's presence stayed strong amongst their people. Perhaps he could truly become one of them.
Tsahik looked at the children eagerly running up to him and asking to play, the adults who no longer raised their spears or clutched their weapons as he was walking by. The elders who sat with him and patiently taught him how to cook their foods, her daughter who taught him the way of water as she had done with the other Sullys.
Yeah. This seemed right.
The boy was Metkayina now. He was apart of their family.
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“He will never be apart of this family”
The sounds of Lo’aks pleading and Kiri’s protests were drowned out as his eyes locked with hers. Neytiri looked at him the same way she looked at the man whom all he shared with was blood. She bared her teeth as if he himself was the one who commanded the RDA to hunt her family, to terrorise her mate, to shoot her eldest son.
Spiders breath was caught in his throat as he desperately looked to the patriarch of the Sully family. He felt dread build up in his gut as he realised the decision was final. There was no convincing the man he looked up to most in this world. No talking Neytiri out of getting rid of him. As if he were nothing but a stray pet finally being kicked out into the rain.
She was getting what she always wanted. Spider away from her family. Her children. The very Na’vi’s that he considered his siblings, who he loved with all his heart. All his soul.
Tuk’s quiet sobs came from his right as she held onto Neteyams healthy arm. He too, looked desperately between his parents, silently begging for them to change their minds.
He was grateful to his siblings. No matter what Jake said to try to reason with them, they tuned it out. He was happy to have them on his side like they always were. But he had a sinking feeling that no matter what points they made, Jake and Neytiri would not budge. Not this time.
“I almost lost one brother, I can’t risk losing anyone else”.
Spider wanted to wince at the pain in Lo’aks voice. The reminder of Netayams near death was practically a prohibited topic of conversation.
Jake tried to say something to his children but Tuk cut him off with a hiss. She was getting bigger and stronger every day. Spiders heart ached with the threat of no longer being able to watch her grow.
Before he could beg any further, Kiri grabbed his arm and marched him away from the chaos. He felt the woven walkway dip behind him as more pares of feet hurried close behind.
Spider could hear Jakes failed explanations die in his throat as his eldest didn’t even spare so much as a disapproving glance before being the final one to leave the marui after his siblings.
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“So it is true? You are leaving?”
Spider was ripped from his spiralling thoughts as his head turned to meet Tsireyas. Her bright blue eyes held sadness. It made his heart ache.
Wordlessly, he patted the spot next to him on the sand where he was sitting staring at nothing. The Tlalim vessels took up space in the corner of his eye. Silently mocking him. Reminding him that his time here was approaching its final hours.
Who knew how long he would be ripped away from the safety of his siblings. From Neteyam’s stern but caring gaze that only an older brother could have, Kiri’s gentle embrace and endless talk of the wonder of Eywa’eveng, Lo’ak’s wild ideas of fun on the back of his spirit brother, and Tuk’s bright smile as she shares her stories of the day with her friends. It would all be no more. For how long? Months? Years?
The thought only deepened the pit of sadness and despair in his heart.
As his amber eyes met his newest friend’s teal blues, he mustered up a smile on his face. Though he could tell that Tsireya caught the way it did not reach his eyes.
He had a lot he wished to say to her
Thank you for standing up for me and letting me stay
Thank you for teaching me the way of water
Thank you for accepting me with open arms when no one else would.
What made his way to his lips was a short, humourless laugh. “Yep”
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The treasures on the ship were wondrous
Intricately woven cloths hung bright along the pathways. Baskets of charms covered the floor, smells of spices and meets he did not recognise wafted through the air. The laugher and singing of children set the scene of a happy day. A vast contrast to the pain in spiders soul as he looked at his siblings, his new friends, the Metkayina’s who considered him one of them.
Spider was being ripped away from a place that accepted him. After everything the sky people put them through, he somehow managed to show he was different. To prove he belonged. He was Na’vi. Something he tried and failed at with the Omatikaya. And now he was going back to a place he did not wish to return to.
When he arrived in Awa’atlu he really thought he’d miss the forest. It’s all he ever knew. The sounds, smells, and creatures within came together to provide a sense of home. A sense of belonging on the mighty Eywa’eveng.
But as soon as he learnt how to traverse the strong currents, hunt along side the mighty warriors, and capture the strong fishes, he felt a sense of home stronger than anything he’s ever felt before.
His fingers ghosted over the tattoo on his left arm. A sign that he was accepted. That he was loved. That he belongs somewhere.
Perhaps along with the beads Tsireya wove into his hair, and the bracelet that Ao’nung helped him gather materials for would always allow him to come home. One day.
He lifted his arm, put on a brave face as he always did, and waved to his siblings.
He remembers their final desperate pleas to their parents, who tuned out their cries, their proposition to at least go with their brother to make sure he gets there safely.
Jake almost caved. Spider could see it in his eyes. But one glance to Neytiri and any cracks were sealed right back up. He was out of time.
Tuk let the tears flow freely as Neteyam placed a hand on her shoulder. She gripped onto Spider for as long as she could before having to be pried away. Kiri whispered words of encouragement and a prayer to Eywa to keep him safe until they could reunite again. She placed a beautifully crafted necklace around his neck. One that he had seen both her and Tuk working on days prior. Neteyam hugged him as tight as he could with one arm. Spider felt the shivers that threatened to break free from his brother. He looked like he wanted to cry. It was at moments like his that spider became painfully aware of how young Neteyam was. That it was actually Spider who was the oldest sibling. That Neteyam was still a child who had already lost too much.
Lo’ak just looked angry. But Spider saw the flicker of hurt that hid in his eyes. He pulled him in close.
“I’ll come visit you on Payakan, ok?” Spider wanted to giggle. His youngest brother, best friend, always full of the best, most reckless ideas.
It took everything in him to pull away. To finally turn his back and walk up that ramp. To leave them all behind.
Jake tried to say something. That only made spider walk faster. He wanted to look at Jake. To make him see the hurt in spiders eyes.
He wanted to…
But he really didn’t.
The wind trader who was getting ready to undo the rope met Spiders eye.
He looked at him, not with hatred, or distrust, but with pity. As if saying he understood the pain of leaving a place you loved.
This was deeper than just a place. This was home. He would never understand.
He clutched the warm cloak that Peylaks mate, Yu’nar had given him. Spider was grateful.
The Olo’eyktan and Tsahik seemed nice enough. Spider just had to stay out of trouble, pull his weight, and hopefully make it back to the forest un-hated.
Perhaps he could even try to make some new friends along the way. He knew that the Tlalim were going to visit a few more clans. He hoped they were as tolerant of sky people as the Tlalim seemed to be.
Spider made his way through Na’vi carrying heavy crates, parents gathering their young, and children chasing one another.
He crouched down on the edge of the vessel. The tightly woven material providing steady grip. He looked over the edge. The water lapped onto the shore. Shimmering in that beautiful hypnotic way. His friends and siblings stared back up at him. Faces reflecting the same ache he felt.
His eyes landed on Neytiri. He wanted to look away, focus on what mattered in these last few seconds.
Her shoulders looked lighter, her eyes were bright. Ignorant to or perhaps purposefully ignoring the pain in her children’s voices.
Her face was turned away, looking at their marui. Envisioning her future without the ever present curse of the demon within her presence.
Spider wanted to scream at her. To curse at her. Throw up his favourite hand gesture. To do anything to convey the pain she was causing him. He wanted to do anything to make her see him.
Despite the grief, the anger, he still understood, somehow, why she hated him. He was probably the spitting image of his father when he was a human. Why would anyone want the face of the man who took everything you loved away from you to be in your very home? Eating your food, sleeping amongst your children.
Spider hated it. He hated how she hated him. He hated how he understood her. How he saw her.
She would never see him. Not in a million years.
His hands gripped the woven rope of the vessel. She would not meet his eyes. The faint, fully healed scar across his chest ached. He was practically dead to her anyways.