Wise Fish | aonete

4 𓆟 Water Under the Bridge

It had become increasingly rare for Neteyam to get the chance to do something he was truly good at. He was rarely as clueless and idiotic as he had displayed himself amongst the Metkayina, and even the rare few times he was able to take a short flight with his ikran, or venture through the trees whose roots the marui were strung between, it never felt the same as it used to. Try as he might, he could never recapture the way it all used to feel.

Neteyam had just finished one of his rare flights. He had gotten up just as the sun was beginning to rise and was unable to fall back asleep, so he and his ikran had watched the sun arrive from their own point in the sky.

Neteyam jumped down onto the cool sand, disconnecting their tsaheylu with a sigh. That was always the worst part. Not knowing when he'd next be able to connect to his ikran was worse than the most final of goodbyes.

Neteyam gave him one last pet before his ikran flew off with a shriek. He frowned as he stood on the shore and watched him fly off to who knows where. He was filled to the brim with an ache that only seemed to grow stronger every time he was reminded of home. Even with all they had built here, he'd give anything to go back.

"Are you alright?" came Ao'nung's tentative voice from his back.

Neteyam blinked, snapping out of his daze and turning to look at his concerned friend. He tried his best to put on the same easygoing smile he always wore, but he knew immediately it wouldn't fool anyone.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just . . ." Neteyam looked into Ao'nung's worried, blue-green eyes and exhaled. It was getting hard to lie to him.

"I miss my home. Awa'atlu is amazing, and your family has been wonderful." Neteyam paused, Ao'nung's eyes flickering from him down to the water and back. "You've been wonderful." Neteyam saw a small, proud smile twitch at his lips.

He turned back to gaze longingly to where he'd last seen his ikran flying off into the trees. "But there are some things that I will always miss."

"Your grandmother?" Ao'nung guessed, tentatively. Neteyam looked back to see him staring hard at the sand between his toes. "Kiri said you had a grandmother back with your people. I am sure you miss her."

Neteyam smiled and took a couple steps closer to Ao'nung, who was standing ankle deep in the water. He looked so lonely and unsure.

"Well, yes, of course I miss her, but she and Kiri were always closer." Neteyam scratched the top of his head and looked off somewhere distant, trying to think of how to best verbalize what he was feeling. "I miss exploring the forest. It felt like we found a new part of it every day. Or climbing on the vines between the Floating Mountains. And when we would fly between them and look down to see how vast it all was."

Neteyam glanced back up at Ao'nung, only to find he was already looking at him. The two held eye contact. Neteyam felt like he was being examined; like Ao'nung had reached a hand through his chest and into his heart and was rooting around inside of it, coaxing out his deepest thoughts.

"I can't imagine leaving my home," Ao'nung finally said. The words sounded heavy on his tongue. "Even the thought of it upsets me. I—" Ao'nung's face pinched and he turned his eyes away. Neteyam could see him wiggling his toes, digging them into the sand. "What you and your family must have been through . . ."

Neteyam frowned as he trailed off. He pushed up his flight visor as the silence stretched uncomfortably.

Ao'nung took a sharp breath and stepped forward, his hand out like he wanted to touch Neteyam. Before he could, he seemed to think better of it and let it drop back to his side. He looked like he was in pain.

"I am sorry for the way I treated your family." Neteyam felt the breath catch in his throat. Ao'nung looked like he was swallowing rocks. "I know after all I have said and done, that must be hard to trust, and I am not sure why I acted as I did in the first place."