AVATAR TWOW: Torn between the 2

N E T E Y A M
What is up with you?
PT1

THE NEXT DAY I don't visit Ao'nung or the day after that. I never got to say goodbye. He's probably left by now and perhaps that's why the sky is so grey. Not the opaque grey of rain, but the bleak light grey of grief. I regret it. I had been too scared, and for once I know what it feels to be a coward. It feels like I've lost.

Though it doesn't make sense because how can I, when he isn't mine, to begin with?

I find love to be stupid. A whole moron. It makes me never want to feel love again.

Now, I look at my people and none attract my eye.

"Neteyam?" Father calls from my neckpiece. I push the button.

"I'm here sir," I reply. I'm flying with my Ikran over the herd of Sturmbeests, with my bow in hand, shooting here and there, getting multiple kills. I should feel triumphant—after all, I'm doing man activities, using the time to get my head off unimportant stuff.

Who doesn't like hunting? Who doesn't like providing for their clan? The chest-puffing praises one gains afterward are rewarding. I'm having fun. The breezy air through my braids, and the prickling soothing coldness to my eyes and body—I am at ease.

But why does grimness somehow still linger? Why does Ao'nung replay my mind?

I grow frustrated and so does my Ikran. We swerve and take sharp turns and twirls, and I'm trying to regain control. We almost crash a tree. I grow hectic, demanding my Ikran verbally to get a grip, but it doesn't listen. I even shush her, but it doesn't do any better.

My Ikran wails. I slump my shoulders, and press my body against her; soothing her. I rub her neck and try my hardest to calm my angry mind.

"Neteyam, what is happening?" My father's voice asks. I don't have time to respond—can't grab my neckpiece because I'm swaying from all sides. I'm almost thrown off.

"Mèmxè!" I shout with a snarl, yanking her harness hard. I am almost guilty, knowing it has hurt her. I whisper apologies, caressing the harness and she can feel my frankness through our bond. My hammering heartbeat slows, and my mind drifts anger and sadness aside.

"I need to stop...thinking about him..." I murmur to her, caressing her slick head.

"Neteyam?!" My father calls.

"I copy Sir. Sorry, Sir. I am alright," I say, but the line goes dead.

_______________

I am scolded as soon as I am home. My Ikran wails silently by my side.

"You had one mission! But you and your Ikran go riot—what the fuck was that about?" Father says, cursing in his English tongue. He grasps my shoulders and shakes them, leaning to peer at my downcast eyes that blink rapidly to suck up tears.

"C'mon son, this is unlike you. Tell me what's going on. Tell me what pissed you off, yeah? Tell me what you saw," He says, softer this time.

"Father, I think Neteyam needs some time—" Kiri intervenes, but mother halts her with an arm.

Tuktirey is holding my forearm for comfort, her doe eyes wafting with gloom. I peer at Lo'ak through the corner of my eyes. He is unmoving, but I can sense the worry that flares through his face.

It makes me slump with even more shame. This was his first hunt on an Ikran, and I had fucked it up. I had sucked away the fun for some stupid feelings.

"I'm alright, Sir," I whisper. Father engulfs me and I rest my hands on his chest, lungs bubbling with the need to cry. But I don't. At least not here.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you, remember we are always here. Family sticks together," He croons, and I nod with a smile.

After some time the discussion dies and we all go our separate ways. I tie up my Ikran, fetch her fruit from a nearby tree and reassure her:

"You did good, Mèmxè. Whatever happened today is my fault. I am your rider—I just failed to guide you today," I say as her tongue licks over the colorful and tasty juices of the open fruit. "You're beautiful," I laugh mirthfully, my free hand stroking her snout. She lifts her head in a buoyant cry.

"You hungry, big bro?"

I turn to see Lo'ak.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"No greeting? Ouch!" He feigns hurt, grabbing where his heart is, but quickly turns serious as he sees that I don't retort to his teasing. He sways his head, uncertain. "Kiri sent me here. But I also wanted to know how you are holding up, you know?"

I see that his usual ponytail is down. It's one of those rare instants where I can admire how his braids frame his v-shaped face, and how they cascade down his back.

He resembles Toruk Makto an awful lot.

I guess that's why we're called the "Opposing Duo." Aside from our personalities, and our inherited faces (either one framing one parent), I find that Lo'ak is my other half. I love my baby brother to death as risky as he is. And annoying as he is.

He and I are joined at the hip. He's someone I can not lie to, and surprisingly someone I can vent a lot too. He's rational when it comes to feelings, though sometimes his impulses just take over for the sake of battle.

However, this time, I don't know whether I can bring him the truth. My mouth opens and closes.

"C'mon, what is it, bro?" He asks as he sits down. "I can see you restless."

I mirror him, my fidgety hands on my lap. "Well, I..."

My words falter short. I don't own up to that typical courage. I almost feel stupid.

"Well, you what?" He asks. He's not pushy, just seems concerned as his bushy brows furrow.

"I like someone," I hesitatingly say. "Kiri knows it."

He blinks. Then he laughs, finding the idea hysterical. "That's why you and Mèmxè almost rode to death? Well congrats bro, about time—not so perfect anymore, huh?"

I roll my eyes at his unfunny jab. But turn serious as he meets my eyes again.

"Who is it? Do I know her? Is she pretty? It's Tieì, right?—yeah, it's her! Congrats cuz, I foresaw it!" He rambles.

I ponder and shake my head. "They're not Omatikaya," I say.

"What?" He widens his eyes, "Then what is she? A rock? A tree? Don't play games with me, cuz."

"It's a boy...and he's not from here," I say.

"...What you mean he's not from here?" He asks, his tone stern as he leans forward to look at me better, brushing over the fact that it's a guy who I'm in love with. He doesn't seem to care—or perhaps he doesn't realize—or maybe it just hasn't struck him yet.

"He's a water Na'vi. Though it doesn't matter 'cause he's already left home," My insides churn and I suddenly have that growing pain in my stomach again. I confuse it as hunger, though I know it's heartbreak nausea.

He sighs and puts his hands on my shoulders for solace. "I'm sorry bud," He says and I can tell he means it.

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