Flowing Melody || NETEYAM

My Heart Will Never Know

2 months later

Pain became a constant. A heavy weight always there. It was there when she woke up, when she sang and danced now melancholy tunes, when she fished, when she braided Tuks hair, and when she went to sleep. Her grief had seemed to replace his space in her life, it was her companion now, her despair her friend in solitude.

Her faith abandoned her, Eywa seemed to taunt her. She saw his face in the waves, his laughter in the blow of wind-chimes. She felt her stomach drop every time Neytiri fed her ikran or jake ruffled lo'aks hair. In the way Kiri would sit as Fae sang, Lo'ak would hold Tsireya, and Tuktirey glancing longingly at the forest trees.

The stars reflected his eyes. Most nights after, Fae'voila would lay on the beach staring up at the same stars that he would look at every night in the forest. She would let tears roll down her face, and cry until her voice was raw and scratchy. She would fall asleep with the sea lapping at her feet. She always woke up in her bed. She always woke up cold.

She suspected jake would return her back, carrying her up the beach and tucking her into her hollow bed. Jake himself often went to the beach to stare out into the horizon, perhaps watching for any ships, or just to think about him. Most likely both.

Neytiri had shut down, her once beautiful smile was gone. Fae missed her smile. It was the same as his.

Lo'ak was consumed by his guilt. Deep down no one blamed him but himself, but that was more then enough.

Kiri seemed to spend even more time with eywa, her gifts flourishing. She would often loose track of time, seemingly concentrating on perfecting a task she refused to speak of. No one pushed for answers.

Tuktirey was too young for this. She had mistakenly called lo'ak His name too many times. It never got easier to hear.

After the funeral, Tuk stopped Fae before she could retreat, she had looked up at Kiri with wide, damp eyes as if asking for encouragement. All the Sully kids seemed a lot more unsure of themselves with him gone. Kiri had pushed Tuk forwards slightly.

"Neteyam was going to give this to you, he thought very deeply of it, and we each approved of it. He wouldve wanted you to have it now..."

Her sweet voice tainted by the horrors she witnessed, no longer having an innocent lilt. Tuk pressed her hand against Fae's, before hugging her tightly around the waist and pulling Kiri back to their mother's side, where Neytiri was staring off at the sea emotionlessly.

It was a necklace native to the tree na'vi, a leather cord with shimmering golden twine interwoven. It had a collection of beads and beautiful stones, the same that were braided into the Omatikaya's hair, hues of blues and greens and reds. The clasp was two sea green stones, that slotted together perfectly. She held it to her chest, gazing up at the stars and feeling the ghost of his kiss across her lips.

Neteyam has persuaded Fae that she no longer had to be alone, that she could accept help and she was allowed to enjoy others company. Now she was alone. He had promised she would be stuck with him. So why, oh Great Mother, was she so desperately lonely.

The village now dreaded her songs, they were heartbreaking eulogies. It was a time of mourning that would not pass for her. The people encouraged others to sing sonfs of joy and hope, and Fae had no strength to fight them. She had no strength at all.

Na'vi mate for life. Their love is sacred. When your lover dies, your bond is shattered, and so is your heart. Fae learnt that the hard way. Although they weere to young to be mated, He was the one. It was clear, written in the stars. And Fae knew there would be no other, she did not want no other. She wanted Him. And none would ever be Him.

His death was a life sentence.