I WANNA BE SAVED, neteyam

Alternate Ending (pt. 2)

Neteyam dissociated as he stared down at her peaceful face.

It was like she was just sleeping, aside from the fact that her skin was just a smidge lighter than it was before from all of the blood loss. His mother and father had prepared her well, cleansing her skin from the blood, tidying her hair and even changing her breast piece and loin cloth. They weren't going to bind her legs and arms yet, giving time for others to mourn her before the burial.

Everyone who had wanted to see her had came by. The people consisting of nosy villagers and the family of the Olo'eyktan, they had come to give their condolences.

Neteyam sat alone now, rubbing his beads that were braided in her hair as the smell of burning incense filled the air. It was meant to drive away any lingering bad energy that clung onto Ayatney's body, cleansing her before allowing her energy to be returned to the Great Mother, Eywa.

White paint made from shells and oils was plastered on his skin, from his forehead all the way down his chest ending right above his belly button. It made his skin itch terribly. When his mother painted it upon his skin, he could feel the small pieces of shells dig into his wounds, internal and external.

As he was lost in his own thoughts, faint whispers could be heard outside the hut. There were five small voices, three of them arguing on who should approach him first.

"Maybe we could wait a little longer? Allow him to process this." Lo'ak pleaded with his parents, clearly understanding how his brother was feeling. Of course, he didn't mourn over a lover, but losing someone he considered a big sister to him was close enough.

Neytiri looked over to her husband, hand in hand with Tuk who stared longingly at Ayatney's still body. They knew it was time to set her to rest with the Metkayina ancestors, a bit saddened that she couldn't sleep among the Omatikayan's.

The parents ignored their sons words as they stepped into the pod, passing Tuk's hand into Kiri's as they grabbed the rope to bind Ayatney.

Jake cautiously kneeled next to his son, letting him know that it was time. Neteyam flinched at the contact, pupils shrinking before dilating again in realization that it was only his father.

"We have to do this." Jake watched as his sons blinked slowly, turning away to stare at Ayatney. "I'll help." He wanted to be the one to bind her forever. In some sort of way, he was tying her to be in his life for the rest of time he remained.

Neytiri nodded at her husband who looked her way for reassurance. Kneeling on the other side of Ayatney's body, the mother gently picked her up which allowed Neteyam to lay the rope under her.

In her arms that were crossed across her chest were her knees, binding her in a fetal position. Neteyam was hesitant to pick her up in his arms, but he did, carrying her over to the big leaf that his family and villagers had filled with flowers in condolence. Gently, as if not to disturb her sleep, he laid her down in it.

Water began to fill the container that dipped from her weight, making the flora float and escape its hold. Jake mounted the ilu, willing it to glide on the surface. Neteyam held onto the side of the leaf, keeping his attention forward as everyone else followed.

As soon as they arrived at the Spirit tree, the Metkayina stayed behind, barely outside the border as they watched the family. It wasn't a long journey but Neteyam wished it was. He was not ready to part with his beloved in such ways. There was no "see you later" or "there's always tomorrow," this was the only and last time he would see her in person.

Neteyam could feel his eyes and nose sting with the familiar feeling of tears building. He tried his hardest not to cry, as he didn't want his final vision of Ayatney to be so blurry.