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The song of the Sarentu is the only thing Tamtey remembers about her mother. Her voice echoes in her dreams to this day, seeking to comfort her child even within Ewya and years gone by; Tamtey never forgot the melody, and the words were lost for a moment but found her once again. Her mother is guiding her once again.
“Senga lu Sarentu.” Tamtey was never the best singer; that was Ri’nela, but she took pride when it came to her people’s song.
“Na’vi ayvuritz peng. Layro, txur, txopuluke.” Tamtey’s voice is soft like her mother’s, the lyrics coming easily out of her mouth like second nature.
“Lante ka kifkey. Var awnga yivora’ Nìt’iluke emrayey.” Tamtey finishes the song, her voice ringing out around So’lek’s home she has been confined for a while now.
She has not seen Nor since the argument, and a part of her wishes not to see him again, but she also yearns for her friend, her family to come back to her.
Nor and she were always conflicting entities; Nor with his reckless and likeliness into getting on Mercer’s bad side, while Tamtey always made sure to protect what she had left.
She would not allow them to join Aha’ri.
Maybe it was out of a selfish desire to make sure they lived and could be a family so she would not be left alone, or it was because Tamtey wanted to be the first to join her sister within Ewya.
The songcord is heavy in her hand now that the song is done. Tamtey has woven her mother’s songcord into her own. Itu taught her how to weave. She took his lessons seriously as she wove her mother’s cord; she didn’t want to damage what her mother had already done. It was everything Tamtey had left.
She always felt like this, the weight of the cord on her wrist always a reminder; the song was the short period of time in which Tamtey didn’t feel the guilt of losing everything she loved.
Tamtey looks up. So’lek has a meditation sort of place in his home; she believes it’s from his people, a reminder of what he has also lost to the sky people. Tamtey has taken a liking to So’lek’s meditation practice and has taken it upon themselves to do the same. She watches the cave from where she kneels, following the woven tapestry of his people with her eyes.
The sound of footsteps snaps Tamtey out of the calm of her mind, immediately tensing up. So’lek should not have returned so soon; he had promised to only come back once he took down an RDA facility, which Tamtey was not able to do due to their injured shoulder. She snaps her head to the sound and hisses, not out of malice but as muscle memory.
Nor, shy and hesitant, stands near So’lek’s gear racks, looking at Tamtey like a wild prey that has been caught. He looks awkward, like he doesn’t know what to do now that Tamtey has found him.
She tenses up, jaw clenching and face twisting into something agonising, like she has been stabbed in her very soul.
Aha’ri always joked that she and Tamtey were made of the same soul, split into two. But she always said that Tamtey and Nor were of the same mind. Nor was reckless; he acted on impulse and emotion, while Tamtey thought before action, her actions were emotionally charged, but she always took the time to think what said action would bring.
Tamtey never denied Aha’ri’s words as they were true; she was always right.
Tamtey watches Nor, he looks so exhausted, eyes cast down in shame. He looks oddly out of place, like he doesn’t quite belong, and that hurts Tamtey. He tries so hard to fit in, shunning away anything that could somehow be linked to the sky people he detests so much. He brought The Resistance down, killing many good people, killing Alma; some survived and regrouped, now rebuilding and trying to bring back what The Resistance once was. Tamtey hates the sky people, but those who fight against the RDA have her respect, and she cannot deny that.
Nor moves painfully slowly, kneeling next to Tamtey but making sure to leave enough room for at least another person. She doesn’t look at him; she refuses to, the pain still fresh, the wound still bleeding in her soul.
“Ngaytxoa, ma Tamtey.” It’s a shallow whisper that leaves Nor’s lips, full of regret.
Tamtey sighs, closing her eyes as her bottom lip trembles, not from tears but something deeper within, “Do you believe what you said? Do you think Aha’ri would be ashamed of me?”
“No, no! I am wrong, upset. I didn’t think, I just spoke what came to mind.”
“Did you mean it?!” Tamtey finally snaps, turning her head to Nor in frustration. She grips her songcord for dear life, as if it could save her.
Nor doesn’t answer, was he always this proud or was it fear? Tamtey couldn’t tell.
The silence that follows is heavy, so many unspoken words left in the air, taking space where it doesn’t belong. Rasi had said the Sarentu always spoke when there was an issue; they were travellers and storytellers, biting their tongue would only bring more pain and resentment, and the Sarentu were nothing but forgiving. TAP took that away from them.
Nor shifts uncomfortably on his spot, recoiling in shame, “I don’t know. I do not know, Tamtey.”
If Tamtey were well and apt for battle, she would leave this place and find the first RDA facility she came across and take it down. It wasn't Ewya's way of releasing this anger she felt, but it is to her benefit.
“Sometimes, I think about what she would do.” Nor speaks up, looking away from Tamtey to gather his thoughts better.
“I think about how brave she was, how much I tried to follow her steps and rebel. How would she behave now that we’re all free? Would she shun all of the sky people, would she hate The Resistance as much as I do?” A long pause, and he finally looks back to Tamtey, eyes glistening.
“But I cannot answer those questions because I am not the one with whom she shared a soul.”
Tamtey shakes her head, trying to stop the tears from forming. Her face twists into something ugly, something painful.
“She wouldn’t,” a pause, Tamtey looks down at her songcord, holding Aha’ri’s birth stone that her mother has woven before moving along to the stone Tamtey has woven, such a short gap between Aha’ri’s birth and death, “She would hate the sight of Alma, but she would not betray those who help her.”
“I do not regret it. I do not regret killing Alma, and you cannot shame me for that.”
“I do not shame you. I pity you.” Tamtey snaps, baring her teeth defensively, even if she didn’t mean to.
Nor eyes widen, a series of emotions going through them. Shock turns into pain, and finally settles on anger.
“You speak of the way of Ewya and yet, here you are, full of hate, killing yourself from the inside. You look exhausted, haven’t slept in days or given yourself the chance to think about what your actions have caused to all of us.” Tamtey stares at Nor, eyes burning into his own.
“You shun Ri’nela for her ways, you shame Teylan for trying, you disrespect Rasi, our elder, as much as you can. You bring me pain-“ She stops, voice cracking as tears threaten to fall again, she won’t let them.
“We are trying. I am trying. I do not wish for this hate in my soul, but you seem to seek it. You shame us when you weren’t even here to see us try. You left us.”
Nor stands, looking down at Tamtey like he is seeing her for the first time, “You’ve changed.”
“We’ve grown up.”
He moves, leaving Tamtey’s side to pace around, a habit he picked up back at TAP, “That’s not what I meant.”
“You changed. You weren’t like this before I left.”
“How have I changed, Nor?” Her voice drips with sarcasm, rolling her eyes and tracing her songcord with her fingers to calm herself.
He stops, staring at her with something Tamtey cannot place. Nor looks conflicted, like he’s searching for something that is being dangled right in front of his eyes, and yet he can’t reach for it.
“Fierce. Determined.” His voice is softer now, like realisation dawning on him.
Nor flops down on the floor, seemingly defeated, with an internal conflict. Tamtey watches him with wonder, seeking something in him. She reaches a hand out, hesitantly touching his arm.
Something snaps within Nor, a violent sob breaks through him, causing his whole body to shake with it. Tamtey moves before she even realises it, her hands coming to take his face to take it into hers. Her touch is so tender, so full of love, that she cannot deny it. Nor is unconsolable, the sound of his sobbing breaking through the peaceful home of So’lek.
“I do not know what to do. I do not wish for this.” Nor speaks in between sobs, shaking his head, trying to get away from Tamtey; she does not let him.
“Nor.” She whispers his name tenderly, pulling him against her chest, just like Aha’ri did to her when she called for their mother back at TAP.
“They took so much from us.”
“I know.”
“I hate their minds. The way they destroy everything they touch, I hate them, Tamtey, I want them dead.”
Tamtey squeezes Nor, the tears leaving him are violent, like they’re being ripped out of his very soul.
“I thought… I thought if I insisted on following Ewya, it would all go away.” Nor sobs even harder, seeking shelter in Tamtey’s arms; she grants it, of course she does, he’s everything she has left.
“I pushed you away.” Nor releases himself from Tamtey, looking at her with sombre eyes; he looks like a kid again, and she’s sure she looks just the same.
“Do you think she would hate me? Aha’ri?” He whispers her sister’s name like something forbidden.
“No, she would never hate you.”Tamtey holds his face kindly, drying his tears the best she can, feeling her own face getting teary in the process.
Nor goes back into her arms, feeling her heartbeat steadily. An old habit they had back at TAP after Aha’ri’s death. Tamtey was terrified of one day waking up with them gone, so she would sleep, hearing the rest of the Sarentu’s heartbeat. Therefore, they would do the same back to her. Eventually, Mercer ripped that away from them, keeping them isolated during the night, but now on the outside, the habit remained for a while.
“I don’t like it when we fight,” Tamtey whisper after a moment in silence, petting Nor’s head as she does so.
“Neither do I.” A humourless laugh leaves him.
“Promise me we won’t fight again.”
“We always do.”
“This time, can we at least try?” Tamtey reaches her hands out, holding Nor’s face, who reciprocates the gesture, holding her face in his.
He nods, laughing softly, and she grins back.
“Oel ngati kameie, Nor.”
“Oel ngati kameie, Tamtey.”
Tamtey and Nor stay silent for a long time, both understanding the need for that silence to settle. Tamtey does not forgive Nor, his words were harsh and painful, but she does understand him. She understands his pain and feels his pain; it’s very similar to her own.
And she would wish this pain on no one; so this is not forgiveness, but it is a start.