To Save Those Once Lost.

Chapter III

Finding the beaded-handled dagger and the vine-wrapped Ionar was simple, they were in the same place that they always were. They were tucked neatly and tightly into the blankets that had been weaved for her so long ago, not ever being dared moved nor disturbed.

They were the two things given to Kiri.

One by her parents, and one by Lo'ak.

At first, it had been Lo'ak to be given the dagger, though it had been Kiri who had found him that night, preparing to throw it into the sea in a rage-driven stage of grief. She had stopped him, holding his hand as they hugged and spoke quietly, neither bringing up the fact that they both were crying.

Lo'ak had asked her to keep it safe, to hold onto it for him until he was ready to wield it.

It broke Kiri's heart knowing she'd never be able to return it to him.

But what was asked of her is what would be done.

Though the Ionar, it hadn't even fit her when she first received it from their mother. When Neytiri placed it on her head, only for it to fall over her eyes, resting on her nose. And when the older woman tried to adjust the vine to tighten it, Kiri nearly began crying.

She couldn't handle having it changed, too much had already changed.

She just needed one thing to stay the same.

So, they never tightened the vine. Instead, Kiri offered to wait to wear it when she was older.

She hadn't touched it in over three years.

And now here she was, preparing to let it go.

And she didn't know if it even fit her or not.

Stepping into their Marui was a somber moment, no one else was inside, and she was left alone hearing the slow beating of that familiar rhythm. Despite its slow rhythm and the almost dying pounding of the beat, it seemed to echo against her skull.

And with each step, she took closer to those old woven blankets, the louder that echo became, until finally she grabbed the wrapped-up material and it all silenced.

Gently unraveling the cloth, she sighed heavily at the sight of the dagger and Ionar, neither touched nor disturbed. Left in the same condition that they had been last used.

And now they would return to Eywa.

Just as he had.

Carefully she knelt and pushed herself around to sit against the wall of the Marui, setting the blanket on her lap as she stared at the items passively. Grief had such a strange effect on her, it was such a numbing feeling, it was as though she had been tranquilized from the bottom of her toes to the tip of her ears. And yet her heart only continued to reach out and cry for what once was, despite her brain reminding her heart that it was over, that there was no going back.

Gingerly, she grabbed the Ionar, examining the structure of it all as she ran her fingers along the molted insect wings that created the base of the mask. Inhaling deeply she made sure that the vine was the same as before, seated on the correct notch as before.

She then raised the mask to her head, closing her eyes as she put it on.

It fits perfectly now.

And at that, she began to cry.

That was right, they hadn't done the annual height check every 6 months as they had used to when they were younger. So that meant now, she was the same size as him as three years ago.

And she had to give it up.

Three years, a part of her longing and waiting to be able to have the Ionar fit without ever having to tamper with it, just to keep some part of her brother alive.