Work Text:
Requiem
“All energy is only borrowed. Eventually you have to give it back to Eywa.”
It was a saying that all Na’vi knew, and it was something they didn’t question, because death was a natural part of life, and therefore not an enemy.
But this was not how it was supposed to be. There was nothing peaceful, or right for that matter, about a young and vigorous soul to be extinguished so early in life. 15 was an age far from the typical 160-180 years that Na’vi’s usually reached in life.
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan was a kind, righteous, and gentle soul. Ever since coming to the Metkayina clan’s village, Neteyam had not been one to sit idle and roll his thumbs, waiting for the storm that was gradually approaching. No, Neteyam had been eager to learn their ways; hauling fishing nets till his hand were blistered and sore; free diving for clams with the other Metkayina boys; and of course, keeping his watchful eye on Lo’ak who seemed to get in trouble every other minute.
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan had certainly not suffered the shame of being useless; as her father had phrased it when The Sully family arrived. He had very much proved how eager he had been to adapt and embrace the Metkayina lifestyle.
And now Neteyam lied dead on the ground beside her, and Tsireya was mourning while the sky grew dark, and the flames from the ship more visible. The rolling waves crashing against the wet rock created a melancholic melody together with quiet sobs that Tsireya was quietly letting out.
Holding his cooling right hand in her own two hands was an unpleasant sensation, but Tsireya wouldn’t release his hand. Neteyam’s soul might have returned to Eywa, but his physical body was still here, and she would not abandon it.
After Lo’ak had left her on the rock with Neteyam, (going after his family despite his father’s order) Tsireya wasn’t mad at him. How could she be when he had just lost his older brother, the one, beside his father, that he looked up to the most in life. All of the foolish, and reckless decisions that had caused trouble and sometimes mortal danger for Lo’ak, all of it had been because of his desperate desire to be like his brother; the golden eldest child,, and their father; Toruk Makto, a mighty and legendary warrior known to all Na’vi. Those were great feats to live up too. Despite his misdoings and messy attempts at greatness, his intent was only ever genuine and sincere, and no one could blame Lo’ak for the horrible consequences that his action of going after Spider had caused. He hadn’t pulled the killing trigger, but Tsireya knew that he was going to blame himself anyway, and her gentle heart ached for him.
Looking towards the boat, Tsireya said a silent prayer to Eywa. “Please no more death, please no more death, Oh great Mother...”
And then she turned back to Neteyam, hardening her grip on his cold hand. Taking a few deep breaths, Tsireya attempted to lower her pulse before she started reciting an old and traditional death prayer.
“Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. I see you, brother, and I thank you.
Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì. Your spirit will run with Eywa, while your body will remain and become part of the People.”
•••
Many more hours passed, and after dawn, The Sully’s (much to her relief) all came back to the rock, without any major injuries, at least physical ones. The psychological ones, however…. There was a lot of healing to be made there, but for now, the danger was over, and at last they could all grieve in peace together. The storm had passed, but at what cost.