Avë'tri

Avë angst (っ- ‸ - ς)

Avë'tri sat against the broad trunk of the supportive tree that provided the family's hide shade, her fingers fumbling with braided fibres as she attempted to create a new weaving pattern. The warmth of the fire before her flickered gently, its orange glow licking at her feet. Nearby, she could hear Jake speaking to Lo'ak, explaining—yet again—that he wasn't ready to go hunting, despite Lo'ak's insistence. Kiri and Neteyam were with Mo'at, nestled in her shade, their attention rapt as Mo'at's soothing stories blended with the nightfall that bathed Pandora in a blanket of bright stars.

Avë'tri sighed as her pattern unravelled once more, the threads slipping through her fingers. Frustration welled up as she tossed the failed attempt aside. Her eyes drifted to Neytiri, who was cradling a sleepy Tuk in her arms. A soft smile touched Avë'tri's lips as she watched Tuk reach for Neytiri's braids, Neytiri tending the fire with one hand while the other kept Tuk warm, adding small leaves to the flames to ward off the chill of the night.

For a moment, Avë'tri basked in the simple love shared between mother and daughter, but then, as if by an unseen force, her heart grew heavy. She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly as a familiar pang of guilt pierced through her.

She watched Tuk nestled in Neytiri's embrace, playing with her mother's braids—an image so tender that it pulled at Avë'tri's very soul. She knew that feeling well, but not from the warmth of Neytiri's love; rather, from the way Neytiri had held her as she wept during her earliest years. Avë'tri's infancy and early childhood were shrouded in grief, a shadow that clung to her every breath.

Avë'tri was the last living connection to Tsu'tey and Sylwanin—the final piece of a lost past that Neytiri held dear. With Tsu'tey lost to the war, Neytiri had no choice but to promise Sylwanin that she would raise Avë'tri as her own. But as Avë'tri lowered her gaze to her knees, a wave of guilt washed over her, leaving her feeling small. Her birth had been a burden from the start, she thought, a painful reminder of the life that had been lost to bring her into the world.

In her earliest years, when she sought love that wasn't tinged with grief, Avë'tri often found herself looking to Jake. But Jake, too, had been distant—lost in the shadows of his own past. His military background had left him mentally detached, his mind often elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts she couldn't reach. He loved her, she knew that, but his love was often tempered by the discipline and caution ingrained in him by his years as a soldier. It was a love wrapped in rules, in quiet moments where his mind seemed far away, locked in battles that she couldn't see or understand.

She felt a strange kinship with Kiri, who, like her, didn't have her biological parents. But even that connection felt tenuous. Kiri had always received Neytiri's unconditional love—love that was pure and steadfast. Avë'tri, on the other hand, had grown up in the shadow of Neytiri's unstoppable grief. While Kiri could never fully understand the depth of her sorrow, she also couldn't relate to the emptiness that came from being a child born of tragedy and raised by a father who was there, but not always present.

As Avë'tri sat there, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever escape the shadow of her birth. The love she felt for her family was undeniable, but the guilt, the grief—it was a constant presence, one she wasn't sure she would ever truly shake.

And now, as she thought about how distant Jake had been, and how inexorable Neytiri's grief was, Lo'ak's laughter rang out, clear and bright as Jake joined in. The sound of their joy almost stung her heart, a reminder of the connection she had longed for but rarely found.

Avë'tri's gaze drifted back to the discarded weaving pattern. She picked it up, her fingers slowly working through the fibers again. At that moment, she made a silent vow. She would be the rock for her adoptive siblings, the steady force they could always rely on. She would make sure that her brothers and sisters never knew the grief that had marked her early years, nor would they ever feel love that was shrouded in pain. Instead of dwelling on her own sorrow, she would pour all of her love into them, shielding them from the shadows that had once loomed over her.

As her fingers moved with renewed determination, Avë'tri felt a deep gratitude for Neytiri and Jake. Despite everything, despite the grief and the distance, they had loved her, raised her, and given her a place in their family. That love, imperfect as it might have been, was something she would never overlook. It was the foundation upon which she would build her own strength, for herself and for those she loved.