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When the Sullys first came to Awa'atlu, my heart leapt out of my chest. I wasn't sure why. Of course, the occurrence was strange in an exciting way, and the feeling rippled through the people, but curiosity was not the emotion leading me.
They looked different - that, I could see from very far out in the reef. Their skin was the colour of the evening sky, and they were smaller than Metkayina. At first, I thought it was because they were forest people but, as I neared, it became clear that their family was young, similar to mine.
I first saw Neteyam and a wave of... something like hope? It crashed over me. He looked different, so I was convinced that, on the inside, he would be different to the boys in my village too. I saw what I wanted to see and, from where I stood, his eyes lacked a hunger to prove himself by pushing others. From what I understand, many men have that desire and it, along with the conflict it creates, frustrates and upsets me.
To be fair, I'm more sensitive than most, as Aonung so often teases me about. Father says such empathy is a valuable quality for future tsahík but I'm not so sure. My father is a peaceful man, this is true, but he will never understand how it feels to be as tender-hearted as I am, so it is easy to give such compliments in his position. When I train with mother, we both see how it holds me back; I find it difficult to place a blade even near the skin of another at times, ruining many rituals. Mother is strong too - my whole family are, as is ideal amongst the people; they do not understand my nature.
Teaching the Sullys our ways was a welcome break from my duties as tsakarem. For as long as they needed to be taught, I would no longer have to witness suffering as part of my own training. At first sight, I wanted them to stay forever. How wonderful would it be to see the small forest child, Tuk'tirey, grow up to be Metkayina? Perhaps Kiri and I would become close friends despite our differences. Their mother, Neytiri was a fierce and surely, given her unconventional family, open-minded woman that had lived such a life. One day, she might speak her wisdom and it may be just what I need to thicken my skin. Those were the hopes I held tightly as I carried their belongings and lead them to their marui.
When it came to the men in their family, only Neteyam captured my interest at first. The Omaticaya were a people of war and it showed prominently in Toruk Makto (who I still harbour some fear of) and his youngest son, Lo'ak. Rather than eager to learn, they seemed desperate to boast exceptional skills which they didn't have and no one expected them to. At least, I didn't.
Over the months that I helped the Sully children, things changed.
Shortly after lessons began, I got the impression Kiri prefers to be away from other Na'vi. It's also possible she just wasn't fond of me, either for my personal qualities or due to my association with Aonung, who was often unkind to her and her brothers. I spent more time with Tuk but, being a child, she tired easily and could not always keep up with the rest of us. This meant that I spent more time with the boys than I initially preferred.
As I had imagined, Neteyam could be very gentle at times. I couldn't help but smile when I saw him cheering up his brother, checking for Kiri or how, on some nights when we stayed out late, he would pick up little Tuk and carry her home to rest. Though he was responsible, when there was no trouble, he was always easy-going. Even when the others were tense or combative, being around Neteyam was calming, yet, within the same moments, I became extremely wary of him.
I found myself thinking of him often, imagining what he might be like, years in the future as one of the people, all grown up. He was a great leader and protector; those are the qualities of a worthy Olo'eyktan... whose mate is usually Tsahík, which I will someday be...
I would never tell anyone else, but I had many thoughts of romance. I'm at the age where mother thinks she needs to give me advice in this regard, even if I tell her there is no one of interest in my life. She says it is better to be aggressive when it comes to love, and that keeping your interest secret is like a hunter hiding from the fish. Well, it is easy to say that, but incredibly difficult to act on.
In my mind, I was trying very hard to impress Neteyam, although I did not say anything. Though the effects of my intent were small, I hoped he would notice. It was not long before I felt he barely saw me. The things I had imagined were not mutual, and maybe, he was not as thoughtful as it first seemed. Did he only believe me to be a teacher? Inspired by his relaxed manner, however, I did my best to let those emotions flow over me and float away towards the horizon, perhaps to return at a better time if the current decided it was to be so.
Maybe it was obvious that Neteyam would prefer the company of older boys. I believed we had much in common but perhaps we had not become as familiar as I hoped upon first meeting.
I did my best not to sulk, instead turning my attention to Lo'ak, who never failed to amuse. Unlike his brother, he was amazingly hard-headed. Many simple things, like controlling his breath, he struggled with. I knew he wanted to catch up urgently, so I offered to help him with extra lessons.
Over the months, we spent most afternoons alone together, becoming close friends. I began to see him differently. He was very gentle when the others were not around and only tried to show off on occasion. Even then, it was usually to make me laugh. Slowly, I began to view Lo'ak far beyond my first impressions.
By that time, I sensed that he had some affection for me. I admit, my hands were more free-willed than usual when it came to the Sully brothers. Neteyam did not push me away, but his reciprocation ended with lukewarm shoulder hugs. Lo'ak, on the other hand, kept shockingly close to me. I would not tell anyone, but there were times that I had to snatch my kuru away as I could feel it reaching out for his.
My feelings grew strong - my face warms at the sound of his name and the simple thought of spending time together.
On occasion, some others from the village would show interest in the Sully brothers. I could not blame them, since I was the same. I remember when Aywe approached Neteyam - aggressively - and, in his soft way, he rejected her. She tried again several times but, even after giving up, her head remained high. I wanted to ask how she could keep her heart from breaking but I feared upsetting her by discussing it, so I did not.
When this kind of thing happened to Neteyam, I was only curious, but it was strange when someone came to Lo'ak. It set me alight with a competitive spirit. Matters of the heart are not a game, however, so I did not act on that feeling. Instead, I observed them in an anxious mood. Each time he would return to me, it was like inhaling air after a dive. The way he looked at me never changed, no matter who he spoke to. As the tide goes in and out, such is the nature of life itself. With that knowledge, I never felt secure that my perception of Lo'ak and I's undefined and, thus far, short-lived relationship. I began to wear a flower behind my ear frequently but it became clear that Omaticaya do not know it represents a desire for romance. Still, Lo'ak gave many wonderful compliments, so I continued with this.
Though my emotions were already powerful, I planned to reserve a state of devotion for when I choose a mate. My heart was not closed to others yet, as drawn to Lo'ak as I was. I tried to maintain this perspective but things soon swirled.
Seeing him stand up to my father's unjust scolding made my eyes open fully. I had always believed that kind of thing would upset me, but I knew Lo'ak was right. I advised him to keep his head low, as I did, but he had no fear of my father nor his own. My mind was changed that night; I no longer thought conflict to be inherently bad. Fighting for what you wholeheartedly believe to be right is admirable - it is brave. Suddenly, I could understand the boys of my village a bit more, they all want to do something great, even if they are misguided. That is why they are content to ready themselves for battle and why the call of war makes their hearts beat with anticipation and not trepidation, like mine.
More importantly - I saw Lo'ak.
We walked together at eclipse as I tried to comfort him. My heart cried as I imagined his predicament. How was he to know our warnings about Payakan were more than juvenile superstition? That it would cause such trouble with my father when the tale of the outcast through his own eyes was not as it seemed? I let Lo'ak know how proud of him I felt. It did not matter what others had to say, to me, he had become one of the people. I wished for nothing more than for Lo'ak to be Metkayina and remain in Awa'atlu with us.
With me.
We sat by the water and told our stories. Many of his seemed heavier than mine, but he did not belittle me even once. He embraced me when I became solemn and we also shared our memories of joy.
That night, I realised I love him, as much as it scares me to admit.