Chapter Text
Neteyam stared at the vast expanse of white laid out before him.
The same expanse he had stared at for the past few...weeks?
Months?
Years?
There was no way of knowing. No sign of daybreak, no sign of an eclipse, simply just white.
He had always heard tales of what came after death from his clan elders, how Na'vi would 'return to Eywa's embrace' and become one with the world again, returning what small amount they took from the planet by joining the natural order, often being buried to act as nutrients for new plants or fed to an animal.
However, the situation he was in was nothing as described.
Though time never seemed to pass, Neteyam knew that time was passing from how long he had conversed with himself, rambling on about any minor topic to keep himself at least somewhat entertained through his entrapment. He never felt the urge to sleep, and even if he tried to doze off he would only be met with his active mind refusing to do anything of the sort, instead resorting to another conversation with himself....again.
As much as he hated to say it, death was way more boring than he had imagined it.
Sighing again, Neteyam pulled his hands up into the air, inspecting each of the four digits for a moment before resting them on his face and groaning. He had been laid down on the white floor for Eywa knows how long and still, nothing happened, he again found himself retreating to the all too familiar confines of his mind for any semblence of relief.
Neteyam had once again found himself reminiscing the day of his death. While he had been gone for (what felt like) a long time now, the feeling of being shot was still all too clear in his mind. Sometimes he had sworn he felt a particular burning in his chest that while yes, very painful, gave him some feeling of a strange normality, one where he could get scratches from brushing against a tree the wrong way, one where he could trip over any small given thing, one where pain wasn't necessarily a rare and precious occurence.
Removing his hands from his face, he instead gently rested them over the spot where he was shot. He remembered the look Lo'ak and Spider gave him upon realising that they hadn't all come out from the ship unscathed, how they dragged him onto an ilu and laid him on a cold, sharp rock that dug into his back like sharp vines. The sight of his normally stoic father's face turn into mush as he rushed over to him, inspecting his wounds before holding onto him and crying. He could still practically hear the cries of his family as they surrounded him, with his final words of 'wanting to go home' ruining them...especially his mother, he could only imagine how much grief she was in after already losing so much.
His last memory of being alive was the pleas of his family to hold on.
A familiar sting began to creep into his eyes.
He quickly sat up, jumping onto two feet before standing up and fanning his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from crying. Of course he missed them. All of them. His parents, his siblings, his family, his friends, but what use was crying now? What was the use in it if in all previous times nothing had changed?
Despite his resistance, Neteyam couldn't beat his own emotions. Look at him, the eldest son of the Toruk Makto, crying over missing his family. He was a warrior, he should've stopped being so emotional a long time ago. He at least felt somewhat relieved that no one could see him on this state, even if it meant he was trapped in a white abyss.
The tears however continued to grow, every attempt of reducing them resulting in another shred of emotion relating to his life stabbing at his heart and creeping into his mind.
He missed his parents, his father, who was so strict and yet so helpful. His mother, her soft words that comforted him on his toughest of days when he felt low and couldn't bear to let anyone else see him.
He missed his Brother, he would do anything to deal with one of his stupid mishaps one more time.
He missed his sisters, he would never again be able to marvel at how happy Kiri was among nature, he would never be able to see Tuk grow into a strong warrior like their Mother.
He missed his friends, the ones from back home and within the Metkayina clan. Tsireya, who might've become his sister one day. Roxto, who though occasionally dim-witted, was well meaning. Ao'nung...practically his closest friend despite all the turmoil that happened when they first met, he never even got to see him before his death.
Neteyam rubbed at his eyes, attempting to get rid of the tears that blurred his vision though instead being met with an even heavier stream, one that couldn't be quelled no matter how much he tried to take his mind off them.
"Damnit..." he whispered out.
The silence became more and more deafening, his own voice felt so lonely.
Though, eventually, he swore something changed in his surroundings; even through his blurred vision he managed to catch a glimpse of something strange.
It was...getting brighter?
The light that was usually fuzzy was slowly growing, it began to engulf his entire being with a halo of beams, he couldn't even open his eyes without a burning sensation that quickly made him shut them again. He collapsed to the ground, shielding his face with his hands while his mind desperately seeked an explanation.
It felt as if he was full. Every morsel of his body felt full. It was akin to the pressure of diving, though instead of pushing in himself it was coming out. Slowly building up before everything faded to black.
The first time he had 'slept' in a long time, and he couldn't even enjoy it.