Now all grown up and living peacefully (with no more wars to chase after them), the Sully family returns to the reefs of Awa'atlu to visit their Metkayina fellows after three years.
The water clan is delighted to have them back and are determined t...
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—Like old times—
NETEYAM POPPED HIS HEAD through Ao'nung's Marui. He saw Tuktirey, happily caroling a song to a baby Na'vi, which he presumed to be Ao'nung's baby sibling as the baby was cradled against the Tsahìk's chest with care—Tonowari at her side with warm eyes.
"Good afternoon," Neteyam greeted, out of his lurk and motioning 'I see you', to make his presence known. The couple returned the greeting, as Tuktirey beamed, insisting her brother come closer:
"Meet Rawao," She said, smiling at the baby, who stared back with his big blue eyes. "He's three years old."
Neteyam crouched and smiled faintly, noticing that the infant boy seemed to take after his father.
"These will last five eclipses," A suave voice spoke from behind, echoing through Neteyam's ears as he spun to meet Ao'nung's mischievous eyes. The man held two large nets of all types of fresh-hunted fish.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Ao'nung remarked, settling the nets in a corner.
"The mighty warrior is always around," Neteyam replied in a jest, chortling. It was an inside joke of his. He had first used it on Lo'ak, at the brink of death and moment of capture:
'Who's the mighty warrior? C'mon, say it' He had told Lo'ak, laughing as his knife sliced through the cuffs that held his brother caged. Even in the moments of war, Neteyam never failed to tease his siblings.
Ao'nung crouched beside his friend and tugged Rawao's fluffy cheeks. "Goo-goo," he cooed. Neteyam shot him a strange look, but the taller ignored it, playing blind to it.
"Gaa-gaa," Ao'nung cooed once more. Rawao squirmed, his small fingers wrapping around Ao'nung's large hand, attempting to shove it away from his face.
"You're scaring the baby," Tuktirey wailed, emitting a laugh from Ronal. Ao'nung smiled and rose to his feet.
"Let's go," He said, his head motioning out far; out of the Marui pod as his keen eyes gazed at Neteyam, who slowly followed his lead, and trailed behind the soon Olo'eyktan.
They walked leisurely through the sheets connecting all Maruis' like a web; their feet heavy and aimlessly as the crash of waves beneath them soared into their ears, making a comfortable silence.
"Rotxo and his friends will be there, they've missed you," Ao'nung uttered. Neteyam hummed, his eyes gaping at the curved giant mangrove trees hovering above them. The structure of Awa'atlu never failed to amaze him.
"Where are they?" He asked.
"The Ilu pen," Ao'nung replied. He paused, his eyes fixated ahead, as his mind ran miles. This wasn't like three years ago when he and the blue boy would just converse on end. This time, they were mature and more careful of their words.
"I have so much to tell you—all too much for just one sitting," Ao'nung remarked, almost eager. Neteyam smiled, remaining silent as if patiently awaiting for the water Na'vi to continue.
"...My mother cried after you guys' departure, but it's something she won't ever come face with," Ao'nung laughed. "After the war, we decided we'd be more brave, like you guys. And to be frank, I missed picking on Lo'ak and calling him a weirdo."
"You never change," Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.
"...Besides, I missed our heartfelt convos; a son's chief to another son's chief, right?"
"Right," Neteyam replied faintly. The thought of future Olo'eyktan; ruling the village, shoulders pressed with responsibilities, and duties need for fulfillment, not knowing when the time might come in which one dies a hero for their village—the possibility was there, however, the Olo'eyktan could also simply live peacefully, supplying their villagers—it used to be a dreading thought for Neteyam, not knowing which out of the two his path would lead. Death or peace?
His father was Toruk Makto, a legend he had to outlive and move out of the shadows from—it used to be too much, and too laddish of him.
Now eighteen, the boy no longer worried, as his reign of Olo'eyktan was impossible. His clan had 'killed' his father, and bid him farewell, as a new man was honored with the title. It was a disappointment, and a bittersweet memory, but Neteyam could only mourn what could've been: would he have been a great chief?
"You're zoning out," Ao'nung told, his hand pressed firmly upon the blue boy's shoulder. Neteyam gazed into the taller's eyes; blue and lustrous, and smirked.
"You know me so well," He said in a jest.
Ao'nung cocked his head. "I know what you think," he replied with a shrug.
"And what is it that I'm thinking of?" Neteyam inquired, his eyes looking amused.
Ao'nung's hand reached; softly patting the blue boy's head, and shortly wobbling it from side to side, as if he were a puppet—his face daring with smug as he said: "Maybe some other time."
"You're annoying," Neteyam breathed, shoving the taller's arms away as he rolled his eyes with feigned annoyance. Ao'nung chortled.
"You've grown sassier," He remarked. "Maybe not sassy, but impudent...?"
"Watch your words, I will skin you," Neteyam advised, his demeanor threatening as he pointed fingers at the other, though there was a shameless glint of playfulness behind his furrowed eyes.
"Whatever you say, Chief," Ao'nung cooed, taking a few steps back as if to shudder in fear. Neteyam's facade broke, a faint chuckle pushing past his pursed lips.
