Ocean Skies - Loreya

All the Pain in my Sorrow

Lo'ak runs along the twirling roots of the great trees, jumping over rocks and plants, heart beating happily in his chest. He is alone, none of his siblings came with him in the dead of the night. It is dangerous - Lo'ak knows this. He also knows his father will skin him if he gets caught out past eclipse. Lo'ak knows his father's fury very well, having often earned it with his rash decisions and dangeruos habits. 

His naked feet thump gently against the ground as he moves swiftly, bow and arrows carried easily in his hands, like they always belonged there. He hurries along the familiar paths, smiling in delight at the many atokirina around him, twirling gently, lighting up the darkness of the night around him. He feels at home and it is very peaceful in his head, no annoying thoughts about responsibilites nag him as he explores his favourite places.

Lo'ak was thirteen when his father caught him shaving the side of his head; he had wanted to shave his head like a warrior, though he was not one. Jake caught him when he was half-way done and did not let him shave the other side. Lo'ak grew quite fond of his half-shaved hairdo and never grew it back out.

The young Omaticaya jumps along the vines, unafraid of the far-reaching distance and the breakneck fall of the great big nothing stretching under his lithe form. Lo'ak enters the forest on the otherside of the vine-bridge, heart fluttering in innocent joy as ducks under a fallen tree, held up against a large boulder; some leaves tickle the top of his head and his beads clink gently as he moves along the muddy path, a smear of brown on his righ knee.

He feels free when he is alone - alone because he chooses to be and not because nobody feels like spending time with him. Lo'ak feel free, like all the air in the world exists solely to fill his lungs. He is greedy for joy, happiness and love but he seldom finds these things when they are not tied to conditions.

Sometimes he feels alien amongst his own clan - a funny feeling, since to his father, his clan is what is alien, but Jake has always been more Omaticaya than Lo'ak could ever become. He feels he does not belong with his people, he feels different and he knows the clan views him as a stranger. 

Golden eyes peek behind thick leaves and he finds himself near the shack where he knows his father fought his greatest enemy.

He comes here often when sleep avoids him. Lo'ak smiles at the memories; days ago, when he was last here, a whole herd of atokirina came to him, swirling around him. In that moment, he had felt soft, and for a second he felt he belonged somewhere; the feeling left along with the floating seeds of Eywa as his hazy mind returned to the real world around him.

Lo'ak sneaks along the forest as raindrops begin to dot along his skin, shining along his constellation of freckles. He enters the shack, climbing in through a broken window, hissing faintly when a shard slices into his finder, drawing blood. He whipes it on his thigh, uncaring of the stain, knowing the rain will just wash it away on his way home. Who would even notice such a small cut on his finger anyway?

The night is silent as he wanders about, poking around the equipment still inside, drawing a pattern in the dust with his finger on an old, barely standing table. He leaves his mark, a wonky little atokirina doodle. Thunder rumbles, breaking up the silence. Lo'ak stays inside, sitting down in the far corner, humming a soft tune his grandmother had taught him, lulling himself to sleep.

Lo'ak wakes to sunlight shining in his face and jumps to his feet in a panic, heart beating widly against the cage of his ribs, trying to break free. He collects his scattered bow and arrows and runs, not stopping until he is home but he is too late, his family is already awake when he arrvies; Lo'ak cringes when his father's furious gaze lands on his body, running along his limbs, searching for injury before deeming his unharmed - physically at least.