Wise Fish | aonete

9 𓆝 Heart of Gold

yawntutsyìp - darling/little loved one
sa'nu - mom/mommy

𓆝 𓆞 𓆟

The sky was a beautiful blue, and a cool breeze was blowing across the waves. The weather couldn't have been more perfect, but Ao'nung didn't care to notice, and he wouldn't have, even if it was much less pleasant.

He was sitting with one foot bent under him, the other dangling over the edge of the marui paths, towards the water. He was weaving a new sheath for his knife without looking, eyes unfocused on the horizon.

The only thing on his mind was his conversation with Neteyam last night. Specifically the end, when they had been slowly moving closer and closer, and how Ao'nung could barely pull his eyes away from Neteyam's mouth.

There was no way Neteyam didn't realize how often he licked his lips, or how many times he swung his tail back and forth. Ao'nung had tried keeping track of the amount of times their bodies brushed together, but he'd lost count.

Ao'nung reached down to his side to grab another frond from his pile and accidentally brushed against his song cord. His hand twitched. He'd been considering weaving something into it to commemorate the Sullys' arrival. Well . . . Not exactly. He wanted—for reasons he didn't want to think about—to remember it because it was the day he first saw Neteyam. So, Ao'nung hadn't so much as looked at his song cord for weeks (a much harder thing to do than he'd thought).

Ao'nung sighed, trying to refocus on his weaving (as if he'd even been "focused" in the first place), a heavy feeling settling in his heart.

He'd been in turmoil for the entire day. He knew that there was something deeper to the way he felt for Neteyam. He wasn't sure when it started; maybe that night after the Dream Hunt, or maybe even earlier when Neteyam had come back from that flight with his ikran.

Ao'nung's toes brushed the water as a wave swelled underneath him. He tried not to sigh. The people walking around behind him were already giving him enough concerned glances.

Even though he hadn't seen Neteyam once that day, he couldn't get him off his mind. His hair as it swayed in time with his movements, his eyes—so vibrant and calm. His body—so similar and yet so different to his own; leaner, more agile. His lips. Ao'nung had to battle with himself every time he was near Neteyam to not look at his lips. He supposed now he could guess why.

Ao'nung let his work drop from his hands, his shoulders slumping. There was no way he'd be able to focus. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he knew his cheeks must be stained dark by now. Maybe a swim in the cold part of the reef would help.

Ao'nung carelessly threw his weaving into his family's marui, then reached up to tighten the band tied around his hair. He was just about to call for an ilu to assist him when there was a loud splash of someone launching themselves from the water and up onto the path right to Ao'nung's left. A cool, wet hand grasped Ao'nung's upper arm, and his nose wrinkled in shock and slight discomfort before he even realized who it was. When he did, his sour expression did not improve.

"Lenieyfe," he growled, "what in the name of—"

"Ao'nung!" Lenieyfe panted. His eyes were wide, and several strands of hair were coming loose from his bun. He was having a hard time speaking through his heaving breath, and Ao'nung was starting to grow impatient. What did this moron want with him?

"It's Kiri!" Lenieyfe blurted finally.

Ao'nung's body tensed. He wheeled to fully face Lenieyfe and grasped his shoulders tightly. If something had happened to Kiri, and Lenieyfe was in any way responsible . . .