𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒
〶
It's finished! (I think)
The tribe's grief hung heavy in the air as they mourned the loss of Neteyam. The elders, accompanied by his parents, convened to arrange a solemn funeral at the ancestral cove. The rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore provided a melancholic backdrop to the somber proceedings.
Toku sat on the beach with his friends, the six of them forming a tight-knit circle, their eyes fixed on the distant horizon where faint traces of smoke from the previous day's conflict still lingered like a haunting echo.
"Was it scary?" Hui's voice cut through the reflective silence.
"Yeah, but I was mostly just worried for Kiri," Toku replied, his gaze distant as memories of the recent events played in his mind like a haunting film.
"Who was the weird dude she was with?" Dane's curiosity surfaced, and he playfully wrapped his arm around Hui's shoulders.
"Spider," Toku stated blankly, a deadpan expression on his face. The revelation sent the group into fits of laughter.
"You really got your girl stolen by someone named Spider!?" Kelutrel guffawed loudly.
"Man, that's embarrassing!" Dane chimed in, slapping Toku on the back with contagious laughter that rocked him back and forth.
"Oi, leave the poor guy alone; he's been through more than enough," Ri'on interjected, coming to his best friend's defense.
"My bad, my bad," Kelutrel apologized, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle the residual laughter.
"Ya'll are some assholes," Toku teased, attempting to get up and walk away.
"No, no, get back here!" Hui urged, waving his friend over.
"I'll stop him," Ri'on declared before chasing after Toku, jumping on his back, and playfully pulling him down onto the sand.
"Boy—" Toku began but was cut off when the rest of the group joined the pile, laughter filling the air. However, the mirth dissolved into silence when Kelutrel abruptly shushed them.
"What—" Dane tried to speak, but Ri'on's hand swiftly covered his mouth.
In a hushed whisper, Kelutrel broke the silence. "Look..." he said, pointing towards the water. Toku followed his gaze and saw Kiri with Spider. Their laughter echoed over the waves, but for Toku, the sight of their joined hands sent his heart sinking.
"Holy Eywa, he's short," Hui remarked.
"Shut up, you're short," Dane retorted in a whisper, eliciting laughter from the group. Kelutrel, in an attempt to quiet them, accidentally shouted, catching the attention of Kiri and Spider. The laughter ceased, replaced by an awkward silence as Toku's eyes met Kiri's, the weight of unspoken emotions lingering in the air.
Kiri didn't give him the usual smile she did. He tried to attribute it to the grief she was experiencing, but in Spider's presence, that smile seemed to return.
"Wanna jump him?" Kelutrel asked, his voice surprisingly serious for once.
"Nah, I'll be right back," Toku said before striding purposefully up to Kiri. Without a word, he took her hand and led her away down the beach, leaving Spider awkwardly waving at his friends. The air crackled with tension as they retreated, the unspoken emotions between Toku and Kiri hanging palpably in the coastal breeze.
"Toku!" Kiri yelled, pulling her hand away. "What'd you do that for?" she said, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"We need to talk," he said, swallowing thickly as his nerves dissipated.
"About what?"
"You and that—that guy? Talk to me, Kiri. What's happening?" Toku wore a sad expression.
"He's my friend. I just wanted to hang out with him," Kiri said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Friends don't hold hands," Toku said, rolling his eyes.
"Dane and Hui hold hands."
"That's different, and you know it," Toku said, frustration evident as he ran his hands through his braids.
"Nothing's wrong. I don't get why you're upset," Kiri said, folding her arms.
"I'm upset because you're acting like we never happened," Toku said.
"That's not true."
"It is, and you know it."
"We're not mated, so why does it matter?" Toku's eyes filled with hurt.
"Yeah, you're right. I only rejected a whole arranged marriage that would've been great for the tribe for a quick fuck!" Toku yelled with anger but felt a hard slap across his face.
"That's not what I meant!"
"Then what the hell are you talking about!?" Toku said, clutching the side of his face.
"I don't know!...I don't know, okay?" Kiri said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Well figure it out," Toku said before swiftly turning on his heel, a mixture of anger and sadness within him. The unresolved tension lingered in the salty air as they stood on the beach, their connection strained and their hearts heavy with unspoken words.
Toku's fists balled up, his emotions a tumultuous storm within him. Sitting down on the sand, Toku ran his hands through his hair.
"Toku!" Lo'ak called out, seeing the boy sitting alone and sliding down to take a seat beside him.
"Hey..." Toku said, nodding at the boy.
"Bro, what's wrong?" Lo'ak said, noticing his sad expression.
"Ah, nothing..." He replied, shrugging.
"Is it about Kiri?" Lo'ak said with a half-smile.
Toku let out a dry laugh, "it's always something about her."
"You guys seemed pretty happy last I saw, what's the matter now?"
"Spider."
Lo'ak clicked his tongue, "ah, I thought so."
"Does she like him?" Toku asked, hoping her brother would give him the answers he was looking for.
"I don't know, they're close but...I know she likes you, never stops talking about you. That shit got old fast," Lo'ak said, making him laugh.
They sat in a contemplative silence, the sound of the waves providing a backdrop to their unspoken thoughts. Toku's gaze drifted out to the vast expanse of the ocean.
"You know I ain't ever loved someone as much as I love Kiri," Toku finally admitted, his voice a whisper carried away by the breeze.
Lo'ak gave him a sad look, understanding the depth of Toku's emotions. Before the weight of the moment could fully settle, the loud sound of a conch played, signaling the beginning of Neteyam's funeral. The abrupt intrusion shattered the quiet conversation, and both boys rose, their expressions heavy with the reality of loss.
"C,mon." Toku said wrapping his arm around Lo'ak as they headed up the beach and to the village centre
Toku and his family stood at the water's edge, the salty breeze carrying the weight of solemnity. The rest of the village gathered around them, forming a circle of mourning that extended to the edges of the shore. Aonung and Tsireya flanked Toku, their presence a quiet support.
The Sully family, dressed in traditional mourning attire, took their place at the center of the gathering. Each family member carried a piece of the sacred bond they shared with Neteyam. Neytiri, his mother, held a string of vibrant beads that once adorned his braid. Jake, his father, clutched a carved wooden pendant, a symbol of Neteyam's connection to the roots of Eywa. Others held similar tokens, each representing a facet of Neteyam's spirit that would endure in the memories of those who loved him.
A hushed reverence fell upon the assembled tribe, and out of respect, the village remained silent. The waves lapped gently at the shore, providing a natural dirge to accompany the family's private commemoration. The sun, casting its warm glow upon the scene, seemed to bid a poignant farewell to one of its own.
As the family paid their last respects, the mood was somber. The sea, a constant companion to the Na'vi, stood witness to the final act of a profound connection. Slowly, Neteyam's lifeless form was lowered into the ocean, becoming one with the depths, forever bound with Eywa.
The village, in unified sorrow, maintained their respectful silence. The communal grief was palpable, a shared burden that extended beyond family ties. In this sacred moment, nature itself seemed to mourn, the wind carrying echoes of sorrow and the waves whispering a farewell to a soul returning to the embrace of Eywa
The tribe had reconvened to commemorate Neteyam, their voices weaving through the air as they shared stories about his brief yet impactful life. Toku sat alongside his friends, their laughter a stark contrast to the somber occasion. His gaze involuntarily shifted to Kiri, and as their eyes met, a flood of memories from happier times surged through him—the echoes of a peaceful past.
In the midst of the lively gathering, Kiri nodded toward the exit, a silent invitation that stirred a mix of hesitation and curiosity in Toku. With a nod in return, he excused himself from the animated chatter of his friends and followed Kiri outside, the transition from festivity to solitude palpable.
Once beyond the threshold, the atmosphere changed. The sounds of celebration dimmed, replaced by the gentle rustle of the evening breeze. Kiri, her expression carrying the weight of unspoken emotions, met Toku's gaze.
The evening sun painted the sky in warm hues as they stood there, the air pregnant with the unspoken. Toku could sense the heaviness in Kiri's heart, a reflection of the collective sorrow that lingered in the tribe.
"Kiri," Toku spoke softly, searching her eyes for a glimpse of what lay beneath the sadness.
She sighed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon where the sun dipped below. "I miss when things were simpler."
Toku nodded, a shared nostalgia washing over them. "Me too."
Silence hung between them, the fading light casting long shadows on the ground. It was a moment suspended in time, where words seemed inadequate, and the weight of loss rested heavily on their shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Kiri finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I know..." Toku replied, his voice almost lost in the gentle rustle of the night breeze.
"Spider and I are just friends... I swear to you that's all he's ever going to be," Kiri said, her ears pinning back in earnest.
"I just don't get it. Why'd you change your mind so quickly? It's like... you were just waiting to see him again and using me to... I don't know, pass the time or something."
Kiri's eyes carried a sadness that cut through Toku's frustration. "Toku... it's never been like that. You're the only person for me, and I mean that."
Toku nodded, the knots of anger and confusion slowly unraveling. "I really do love you," she said, tears glistening in her eyes.
Toku, in a moment of vulnerability, let his anger go. Stepping forward, he pulled Kiri into a hug. The warmth of their embrace was a silent reconciliation, a bridge mending the gaps that had formed between them.
Toku brushed Kiris hair behind her ear looking at her lovingly and running his finger across her bottom lip. He leaned in their lips crashing together moving in sync.
Underneath the vast expanse of Pandora's starlit sky, Toku and Kiri, entwined in an embrace, felt the gentle breeze carry whispers of their renewed love—an eternal echo of resilience and connection.
〶