kismet

Translations:

tawtute: human

marui: pods (homes)

kalin'eve: sweet girl

tswin: braid

kuru: neural queue

wutso: dinner

atokirina: woodsprites, seeds from tree of souls

uturu: sanctuary

txeylan: best friend

fnu: be quiet

tewng: loincloth

ionar: visor

yawne: beloved

(ay)ikut: grinding tool

tanhi: bioluminescent freckles

five days into your self-imposed isolation and there was nothing to do but think.

your memories were fragments defined by emotion; the ones from your childhood were all about the reef.

you and aonung learning to mount ilus and falling into waters that were so shallow, you could stand in them.

playing in the sand with aonung and tsireya tagging along because she wanted to collect every shell that could fit in her tiny hands.

watching rotxo give tsireya a conch larger than her head and aonung declaring his sister off limits.

the four of you exploring every corner of the reef you were allowed to see; memorizing every rock, every palm, every beach.

then, eventually passing the boundary and exploring the depths of the ocean and the neighboring islands together…

their arrival.

tsireya befriending a son. you befriending the other.

the battles, the losses, the gunshots.

your scream, your hand pulling his wrist, your bodies hitting the water, your desperate swimming to shore.

his groans, his mother's cries, his father's voice.

the silence. the fear. the relief.

it could've been worse. the tawtute healer that his father had brought in assured everyone of that. but the bullet was still kinder than you had been.

on the first day of your self-imposed isolation, that guilt had been the only thing you could think about.

after the beach, you had hidden yourself away in your marui and by the time tsireya had found you, she was with tuk and it was almost eclipse.

"oh, kalin'eve," her voice was gentle in the same way her hands were as they reached for yours, "what happened?"

you hadn't made it to your hammock. you had curled up on the rug, surrounded by scraps of a basket that you had smashed at some point. the braids that had remained in your hair from the previous night were long gone, leaving a tangled mess of curls that clung to your sticky face.

what remained was a fog in your mind.

it rippled when tuk said, "neteyam?"

you could only give a stiff nod in response.

then, tuk was pulling your head onto her lap and tsireya, in hushed whispers, was asking, "what about neteyam?"

tuk had the same quiet tone as she explained to her, "last night i overheard dad talking with the others," her fingers removed the stuck hair off your cheeks, "he told neteyam how happy he was that he found someone like he found mom. then there was this big speech about responsibility and doing what was right by her — courting her properly."

the words floated around, fuzzy and distant, until your head cleared enough to process them...

"he said 'her'?" you rasped.

"he said you, by name."

tsireya's hands squeezed yours, "you told him no?"

she wasn't looking for an answer.

they'd held you until you had insisted you were fine.

on the second day, tsireya had come by early in the morning, right as your parents had left.

balanced on her hip was a basket of hair adornments — one that you've seen so much of over the years. for an hour, she had sat behind you and tamed your hair. she combed through every curl, braided some pieces, and decorated others. she had even stuck small flowers in the tswin protecting your kuru, a gesture you've only ever trusted her with.

despite the tender way her fingers moved through your hair, a certain guilt squeezed your ribs.

she offered sympathy that you did not deserve.

but you didn't want to question her kindness so you just let yourself be soothed by it. and if it felt fragile, it's because it was.

when her tail became restless, that was you. the most grounded person you knew was on edge and you were the reason.

it kept thudding against the rug until she told you, "my mother says that she has heard whispers," her tone was tentative, "neytiri has told some of the other mothers that 'her eldest is courting and will be mated soon'."

the words smacked into your chest so hard, you made a noise. something between a half spoken, 'oh', and a hum.

is courting and will be mated soon.

is it still courting if you had already said no?

did neytiri know that you had rejected her son?

as tsireya placed a final flower, you croaked, "does anyone know that i…"

"no, your name was not mentioned. that was all neytiri said."

is courting and will be mated soon.

it would've been true if you hadn't left her son on his knees in the sand.

selfish.

for months — for years — you had treated him as if he was something forbidden. you had built a line that you swore not to cross and then repeatedly crossed it. for the sake of what?

friendship? you didn't choose him anyway.

tsireya sat with you for a brief moment, unmoving and quiet. the feeble breeze that swept into the marui was irritating. the hanging chime clanging against itself was as incessant as the sound of your own breaths.

she let the silence stretch. the longer it became, the more your muscles tensed as you waited for her inevitable embrace. it always came.

and when it finally did, it was crushing.

"there is no need for that," you muttered.

her arms only squeezed tighter as she buried her face in your hair.

"i know, it's just…" you felt her heavy sigh against your neck, "avoid the pools, alright?"

you had every intention to do exactly that.

especially when you realized that those pools were filled with potential.

they were as beautiful as the girls that spent their mornings in them.

it caused something bitter to settle in your stomach. you were sure it reflected on your face.

is courting and will be mated soon.

he would find a mate.

his father had a vision for his future. when did you start to delude yourself into thinking you were a necessary part of that? you could not have it both ways. you were either his friend or his mate and you had been clear that day. if his father mentioned you, it was only because you were merely a safe person to settle with. you were friends.

were. were.

you were friends.

outside, the sky had turned into a manifestation of the very sight that tormented your mind.

orange like fire. orange like amber.

everything around you lit up with the color and it was penetrating your mind, searing it.

it only took a second to dive from the water-side access of your marui. it took another few to scream beneath the surface until your lungs burned.

bubbles rolled out of your mouth from one continual breath that was meant to relieve something. to expel some part of you that could be blamed for ruining everything so impressively.

but it had hidden itself away. the only part brave enough to remain was something neglected.

it was that part of you that was fragile — vulnerable. the same part that had leaned into his body when he'd held you. the part that twinkled when he glanced over. the part that missed talking to him, missed the privilege of his friendship.

that delicate part of you was ever present and consuming.

and, it was vital and innocent.

it was the part of you that was screaming underwater.

when you resurfaced, the sky had gone dark, your head felt light, and your stomach had begun to ache.

you were deep into marveling at how tangible your guilt felt when tuk showed up singing, "wutso!"

in her hands were two bowls overfilled with that evening's feast. she sat with you, eating, while she chatted away.

"rotxo's gifts keep getting bigger and dad just grunts like he's not impressed. they're both making kiri nervous," she leaned in, "lo'ak and i think they're turning into offerings for dad now."

the faintest laugh had fallen from your breath.

on the third day, you had to convince your mother that you'd been fine and did not need the tsahik to issue a remedy for your sudden gloom.

you had proven it when you'd finally ventured outside of your confinement. you had done it with a pounding heart and tense ears that swiveled each time someone passed.

but you still did it and that was enough. there was no need to fall back into routines. not yet.

instead, you had taken to spending the morning with your mother. you trailed behind her while she gathered fruit for the evening feast and sat beside her while she sorted it.

it had been a nice distraction to be around her like when you were a child. you missed the way she hummed when it was too quiet and how her eyes creased when she smiled at you. you missed how she insisted you take the fruit she offered, even when you protested that you weren't hungry. you even missed the gentle chiding she gave you when you slurped the juice.

it had felt so simple until neteyam found you.

"i see you, tahira, may i speak with your daughter?" he asked.

it almost upset you that he had skipped asking your permission and asked for your mother's instead.

almost.

that part of you that was ever present and consuming was exactly that, and it ached to recover what it had lost.

he brought you to his family's marui — private and empty, unlike the rest of the village at that hour.

you had been there before, a few times, but never with him alone. it was larger than others to accommodate his larger family and yet, despite its size, you felt suffocated. it might've been because he had lowered the flap covering the entrance for privacy. or because you were enclosed in there and surrounded by his scent — stronger and somehow, sweeter. there was also the way he watched as you tried to relax your posture.

either way, it was so distracting that you almost missed when he stepped forward.

"i wanted to see you," he began quietly, "but my siblings would not let me."

you tried to smile, but it was with shaky effort, "i did not expect you to," you couldn't even maintain his gaze, "i should have been the one to seek you out and apologize. i should not have left you there—"

"no," he stressed, "i should have waited to ask something like that of you," his ears lowered and so did his eyes, "that is on me."

one of you had moved closer, but you didn't know who.

during the first couple days of your self-imposed isolation, you had thought a lot. but, you hadn't thought about what you would say when you saw him again. rather, you had thought more about how he wouldn't want to.

still, you had quietly hoped.

"no, it was better this way," that hope steered your words, "we can forget about it now."

it was a wisp that floated in your mind, like the atokirina that he had once described from the forest — too fragile to hold on to. you could see it in the peripheral of your thoughts but you never focused on it.

another thing you had proven that day: acknowledging something made it real. that included its consequences.

that wisp had thrived when you ignored its existence. it had maintained a steady glow for days.

it had persisted until you let it sway your thoughts; until he dipped his head and with a resigned sigh said, "you still misunderstand, don't you?"

all at once, it vanished.

your mouth stumbled over 'no's and 'what's, unable to actually push the sound out.

"i still want you as my mate," he continued, "that has not changed."

you found yourself backing away, looking for air to breathe that was not laced with his.

"i do not want to repeat this conversation, neteyam," it was like all your energy had been used on those words.

"do you think i want to?" he was hastily pulling you closer by the wrist.

you chose to ignore the way your skin warmed as he held you there, "then why ask again?"

"i am not asking, i am trying to tell you that i will wait," he said it with intent, but his voice was thick enough to mistake it for desperation.

the fingers around your wrist slid down until they threaded through your own.

he had given you an opportunity, but with your eyes unable to meet his, you never saw it.

"my answer would still not change," your voice was taut, much like your tail.

that opportunity was gone and so was his hand.

you were barely breathing while you watched him turn away. the patterns on his back stretched as he brought his palms up to rub at his face.

he stayed that way when he nodded, "i think you should leave."

you were plummeting.

"no."

you were plummeting and you couldn't even reach for that wisp.

his tail lashed a few times and when he turned around, his amber had dulled and narrowed.

"what do you want?" he asked, his voice strained, "you have made it clear that it's not me, so what is it?"

"it is not that simple," you insisted.

he gave an exasperated exhale that you almost mistook for a laugh. not a moment later, he was stepping forward and his hands were on your shoulders.

"no, you are not making it simple," he bent to meet your eye, "why do you hold back?"

if your mind hadn't been so clouded, you might've offered an explanation.

instead, you cried out, "i don't want anything to change!"

"it does not have to!" his tone edged louder.

"it will!" you matched him.

"how?"

"you will become unhappy with me!"

"that is impossible," his eyes were squinted, searching or confused, your own had become too blurry to tell.

"no it's not!"

"i am telling you that it is!" it might've been the truth, but the volume muffled it.

"you don't get it!" your hands itched to grab his face.

instead, his slid to your neck, cradling it. "make me get it!"

you wanted to, but your heart was pounding in your throat and the right words were getting stuck in it.

"you will be unhappy!"

your ears rang.

"i already said—"

"—and you will want to change me!"

it might have been the shouting or the adrenaline.

everything felt too loud.

"no, i would—"

"—i will lose my freedom—"

"—why would you lose—"

"—and i would resent you for it!"

silence.

silence.

silence so palpable it shook your body. you became painfully aware of the way your chest heaved and you could barely feel the tips of your fingers.

the mounting blurriness of your eyes had finally peaked and tears freely tumbled.

the clarity was jarring.

neteyam stood still, stuck in another moment that you could not take back. hands were limp at his sides and… at what point had he removed them?

his own chest heaved, too.

when you braved a glance at his face, he was only observing you. a strange look in the way his eyes flickered across your features. they lingered on your watery frown which only deepened the one he wore.

but now, you were stuck, too. even as he brought a hand up and swept his thumb across your cheek.

it traced the path of a tear down to where it had disappeared at your mouth.

a shuddering breath fell onto the pad of his thumb.

"i want you in my life," his voice was barely more than a whisper, "but i can accept that i shouldn't force you to be."

"i only meant—"

"i get it, you told me your intentions and so did i."

"neteyam—"

"i can not be your friend," his sight never left your mouth, "not like this."

his thumb smoothed the edge of your frown, as if trying to erase it.

it lingered for a moment before he stepped back.

defeat shrouded over your heads. you felt it. but in him… you saw it in the way his shoulders slouched and his ears hung.

ringing had subsided to a dull buzz.

gentle waters swayed below. ilus chirruped as they swam by. somewhere beyond the marui was laughter and chatter.

but there was still the silence.

it felt like the same silence that dwelled in the edges of your memories. one that shook you awake on some nights. one that bid its time and hid, only coming out when you thought you'd forgotten it.

it was the same silence from seven years ago, the aftermath of a battle. silence so oppressive that no one could bring themselves to say anything.

it had been there when you thought you had lost him. and it was there when you actually did.

"you should go back to your mother, before she starts to think i am courting you."

his last words to you.

that night had blurred into the morning of the fourth day.

all you had done was weep.

tsireya had come by and stayed with you until your shoulders stopped trembling.

then, she stayed with you through the exhaustion that came after.

your eyes had been fixated on the ruined basket that peeked out from under a thick shawl.

a gift from lenetu. 'to store your paints', he had said.

you didn't paint.

before lenetu, there had been aonung.

he had gifted you a saddle for an ilu.

it was still your favorite.

it would've been so easy if you had just appeased both of your parents and mated with him. but he deserved better than an arranged courtship with someone he saw as a sister. you had told him so when you broke it off.

that had been your gift to him.

childhood had been so simple. duty hung over him now.

you suppose it had then too, but when had it become so occupying?

tsireya redid your hair.

five days into your self-imposed isolation and there was nothing to do but think.

something obsessive existed in the idea of living in possibilities.

like one where his father never mentioned your name. or one where they never chose awa'atlu for uturu. or one where his family never had need for it to begin with.

it did not matter. you would still find another reason to be miserable.

had it even been worth it? you had destroyed your friendship in the name of independence — 'freedom', you had said — and what had you done with it?

you'd barely stepped out in five days. you missed se'lei. you missed the ocean. you missed him.

tuk's arrival with that evening's food had been later than usual. not that you noticed with how distracted you felt.

"i think neteyam figured out that i've been feeding you."

you hummed in a conscious effort to appear casual, but there was nothing to do about the way your ears flicked up.

"did he?"

"don't worry," she eyed you, amused, "i handled it."

her words didn't settle you at all. especially with the way she was biting her cheek to hide a smile.

"how?"

"i told dad he was bothering me. i left while he was scolding him."

"tuk," you sighed, "you could have just told him the truth."

"there's no fun in that," she looked positively smug, "opportunities like these don't come often. i take advantage of every chance to get neteyam in trouble."

with a weary voice, you asked, "why?"

that seemed to set her alight.

her bowl of food was nearly knocked over as she moved to sit on her haunches.

"because!" she nearly screeched, "lo'ak is the only one who covers for me when i sneak out! i ask neteyam one time — one time — and suddenly mom and dad were dragging me back home in minutes!"

you swallowed your laugh enough to say, "i like your commitment, tuk."

but then, one look at the sight of her leaning forward with wild eyes made the laughter that bubbled in your chest start to tickle.

and then you couldn't stop.

her affronted pout started cracking and then, she couldn't stop either.

the bowls of food had sat there, forgotten.

. ｡˚ ° . 𓇼 . ° ˚｡ .

it was hard to keep up with tuk and tsireya's energy.

one was bouncing on the woven walkways and the other was dragging you along with eager tugs to your hand.

"they just got here!" you complained, "there is no reason to run!"

"everyone else is!" tuk said, "we'll be the last ones!"

"she's right, hurry!"

tuk was a force, pushing past people and hopping around others. nothing slowed her stride until she finally reached the large gathering pavilion. it had been completely cleared out to make room for the myriad of baskets and carriers that were being unloaded.

she had been right. the bulk of the village was already bustling around the make-shift market.

in the haze of the past couple weeks, you had become so caught up in your neglected duties that you hadn't found the time to procure anything for the wind traders.

you had tried a few times, but something important always pulled your attention. like the small hole in your fishing net that needed mending. or the slightly uneven ends of your hair that needed trimming. not to mention, finding that chime that had mysteriously disappeared a few weeks ago.

unfortunately, you hadn't considered how helpful your friends would be.

finding something to trade should have been easy. but, when tuk and tsireya had rummaged through your possessions, as it turned out, everything had suddenly become too sentimental to part with.

it hadn't stopped tuk from finding one of your small bags, stuffing one of your father's knives in there, and thrusting it at you ("he won't miss it, now let's go!").

admittedly, their reluctance to let your reluctance take over had been admirable. any weak excuse to get away had been dismissed — and there had been many excuses.

the three of you knew why, but no one said it aloud.

actually, no one said anything about it at all.

though you never told them the full extent of what happened, your friends figured out enough on their own.

it wasn't terribly difficult. you weren't very subtle and you knew that he wasn't either.

but they were worse.

lo'ak groaned about his moodier-than-usual 'friend'. meanwhile, tuk went on about the 'annoying shadow' that has become far too interested in her hobbies. even aonung had tiredly muttered something about pointless conversations in the middle of the night.

between your moping and his… clinginess, your friends were fed up.

it had been spider who audibly wondered 'how the hell' you ever put up with it.

"look at these!" tsireya called out to you. she held a cluster of orange tinted scales. "that top you have been weaving," she placed them in your hands, "please, you must add these to it!"

she beamed expectantly and it was hard not to beam back.

you held the scales up to the light and they too beamed. as you tilted them, their coloring shifted between a warm orange to a golden yellow.

she had good judgment and you trusted her. they would look perfect on that top. and only for that reason — and no other reason at all — you said, "fine."

they were traded for your father's knife.

"the color suits you, txeylan," tsireya gushed, "what do you think, tuk?"

"yeah…" she said absently, "so pretty."

you both turned to her but she wasn't paying attention. her eyes were glancing over your shoulder, her tail high in the air.

"tuk…" you trailed off, already shifting to look—

"KIRI! LOOK, IT'S KIRI!"

right into your ear. at least it felt like it.

there was hardly time to reorient yourself because she was already pulling you and tsireya in the opposite direction.

sure enough, there was kiri and she looked the way you felt — startled.

as soon as she was within arm's length, she was tugging all of you down to crouch behind one of the large support posts of the pavilion.

"fnu, tuk!" kiri hissed, "why must you be so loud?"

tuk only gave a sheepish grin, "sorry?"

kiri didn't answer. she was too busy scanning the groups of people that walked by.

"why are we hiding?" tsireya asked as she tried to follow her eye-line, "rotxo?"

"do not say his name!" she said in a hushed shriek, "you will summon him!"

you asked, "is he still trying to impress you?"

"yes and i keep insisting that he already did, but i think dad is getting to him."

"why?"

"yesterday, he wove a new hammock for kiri — and it was very pretty, flowers and all — but dad… gave him a hard time about it."

"what did he—"

"he asked if he wove it for himself," kiri huffed, closing her eyes as she gritted the words out, "if he made it to move in with us."

the three of you burst into giggles.

"it is not funny!" she wailed, "it was such a sweet gift and i fear that he thinks dad's stupid comments are swaying me."

"i thought you were going to speak with dad!"

"i couldn't — he was gone all morning!"

tsireya smiled sympathetically, "talk to rotxo."

"i could go find him right now!" you immediately offered.

tuk snorted, "she's just trying to leave."

mouth gaping, you scoffed as your tail smacked into her side, briefly knocking her off balance. she stuck her tongue out at you.

"no, it's okay," kiri sighed, "i will talk to him — later. right now i need to go. if he sees me, he will try to gift me half of the stuff here."

"only half?" tuk deadpanned with a lazy tilt of her head, "what a terrible mate he would be."

the three of you aimed some disgruntled mutterings at tuk who just rolled her eyes.

"you joke now, but guess who would help carry everything home, little sister?" kiri's smile was deceivingly innocent. "come, you will tell me if you see him."

tuk's groan was loud as kiri pulled her up and placed her in front of her body, like a shield.

as they scurried away, tsireya gave you a look before a wide grin split her face and then the both of you melted into chuckles.

"i think kiri has earned herself a spot on tuk's list," tsireya helped you up.

you linked your arm through hers, "i hope i never find myself on it."

so began a nice browsing through the market.

there were textiles that were woven with unique weaves and patterns. feathers and leaves of different textures. an assortment of fruits and dried meats with smells that invited you. balms and poultices for various ailments. colorful hides from animals that were foreign to you.

with every display you stopped at, new discoveries were made. a new region was explored. pieces of cultures that were unknown to you became known. everything had a story.

awa'atlu was beautiful and you were proud of it. there was so much to offer and it should not have been represented by a simple knife. you owned many finer items that boasted the materials of the reef; tewngs with special patterns, hair pieces adorned by colorful shells, bathing scrubs made from native corals. everything had a story.

traditions and recipes taught to sons and daughters. and you had completely overlooked it.

yet another consequence of your selfishness.

from beside you, tsireya picked up a brown and green ionar and examined it, "do you think lo'ak will like this?"

"i think he will love it," another voice answered from behind her and suddenly she was being hugged tightly as she squeaked, surprised. he spun her around to catch her face in his hands and kissed her.

they were always so expressive with their affection.

you should have left with tuk and kiri.

"it was meant to be a gift!" her hand cradled the one cupping her cheek.

he looked at her with an open adoration.

"in that case," he reached into a pouch that hung from his waist and pulled out an armband, "now we're even."

tsireya was a vision of pure joy as she held it out for you both to see. it was made from a lighter wood and had polished white pebbles that lined the edges.

"it is lovely, yawne," her fingers ran over the weave, memorizing the pattern.

"you have a good eye, lo'ak," you smiled.

his eyes had been transfixed on her face until your voice seemingly broke his fixation.

"oh, right!" he turned to you as he rummaged through his pouch, "… have something for you, too," he pulled out a necklace, "from tuk."

"for me?"

it was an intricate braid made from different shades of woods, some lighter than others. from it, other thinner braids were draped in a way that looked like the arches at the cove of the ancestors. but what truly made it stunning were the crystals that embellished each draped braid. they were glass-like circular stones that reflected the color behind them.

as you held it in your hand, they looked like beads of water.

"i love her," you gasped.

tsireya glanced around the crowds of people, "she's already back?"

"i guess so, yeah," he wrapped his arm around tsireya's shoulders, "she said you two were together and to just bring it with me."

you couldn't stop admiring it.

when she was younger, she had naturally trailed behind her older siblings wherever they went. but as she grew older, she'd trail along less for them and more for you and tsireya. although she had found a set of friends her own age, the bond the three of you had was different.

"where did you see her?" you asked, carefully tucking the necklace into your bag.

his tail curled slowly behind him and he paused, "at the front..."

he stopped you before you could take off, "don't worry about it!" he rushed out, "she was in a hurry — i will thank her for you when i see her."

you looked up in time to catch his eyes dart somewhere over your shoulder. when they landed on your face again, he began to sputter something about showing you… something, but it was too late. you were already turning your head.

people, and displays, and more people, and baskets, and —

neteyam.

he stood tall with an easy confidence that only he knew how to wear. a small smile fanned across his lips. he looked happy.

around his neck was a necklace you didn't recognize, beaded with shades of turquoises and greens — the exact composition of colors found in nu'ven's eyes.

nu'ven, who stood beside him, was gleaming under his gaze. and she was offering him a fruit from the basket beside them.

he accepted it.

the ocean roared in your ears.

no, it was blood rushing.

it was those miserable five days condensed into one breath.

it pummeled through your chest and it was enough of a movable force to tear your sight away.

"i'm sorry," lo'ak said, "he left early this morning so i assumed he had a busy day," the arm that wasn't wrapped around tsireya's shoulders was wrapping around yours, "i already tried getting him to leave," he sighed, "i didn't think he would come or that he would bring her."

her. she existed in his life. she was present in it. enough for her to sound casual in lo'ak's voice. and they knew about it. there was a pitiful sort of humiliation tied to that fact, but you couldn't even focus on it properly.

"we should not have forced you to come," tsireya spoke gently, "i only thought that you would enjoy seeing everything."

you shook your head, "i was — am — enjoying myself," you offered a (forced but friendly) smile, "really!" your tone might've been too bright because tsireya winced. "i am happy for him. a good friend would be, even if we do not call each other that anymore."

"txeylan, you do not have to make that pretense with us," tsireya said, "we know."

right.

after a moment, you sighed, "i think i will just walk around."

"i will come with you, we can leave—"

"no, it's okay," you insisted, "it's fine, i swear it. thank you for bringing me, i needed to see… new things."

assurance did little to alleviate her wide-eyed frown. it did little to alleviate yours as well. she would demand to have a lengthy conversation later, you already felt it coming.

you gave them a (real) smile and hugged them tightly before parting to a different corner of the market.

the next hour was spent in your own company, wandering from row to row and examining every item that piqued your interest. your focus was maintained by your quiet exploration, but you also kept a vague idea of where he was as you moved.

any encounter with him would be absolutely pathetic for you, let alone an encounter while he was with her.

he might smile at you, she might smile too. you would fight tears as she thanks you for helping them find each other. you would wish them well while wishing for nothing more than an akula to swallow you whole.

pathetic.

luckily, there was enough stuff to bury your mind in, if not your body.

there were goods that were unique enough to ask about. and the tlalim were always kind enough to indulge you, even when you admitted to not having something to trade. you still had to resist the urge to find something on your person to barter with.

until a choker caught your attention.

various tones of woods made into a thick braid. a large, clear crystal secured in the middle, like a water droplet on blue skin. exactly like tuk's gift — this was it's sister.

"from a mountain clan that way," a deep voice spoke, "they are surrounded by caves that grow crystals and stones unlike anything i have ever seen."

the tlalim man that had stopped next to you was around your age, and he was looking at the choker in your hands.

"this crystal, do they make anything else with it?"

you were led to a rack with more similar items — headpieces, armbands, anklebands, even tewngs. each similar in style, but bejeweled with an assortment of different colored crystals.

"so beautiful," you muttered to yourself, "do they only use them as decorations?"

the curiosity in your voice was reflected on his face.

"weapons," he pointed somewhere behind you, "their arrowheads are made with a black crystal. it is fragile but sharp."

"why use a fragile material for a weapon? wouldn't that break on impact?"

"that is why! it is sharp enough to penetrate the body but—" he started to demonstrate with his hands, "—when the body begins to move or the muscles contract, the crystal shatters."

"fascinating," you stared in awe. sure, it was brutal, but it would have made an efficient weapon all those years ago. you found yourself leaning closer, "do you know more?"

he laughed, "about their weapons?"

"or their crystals."

a slow grin grew on him as he considered you.

he glanced around the market, as if looking for something, then took a step forward, "how about their stones?" at your enthused nodding, he continued, "their ayikut are made from stones that alter the taste of food."

your smile was almost as wide as your eyes, "in what way?"

behind you, your tail had begun to wave eagerly despite trying to relax it. you'd been afraid it would knock something over until you caught the way his was doing the same.

"the white stone ikut makes the food salty and the red one makes the food sweet."

"do they have one to make food sour?"

his endearing grin morphed into mild horror.

"you like your food sour?"

he still looked endearing.

"you do not?"

he shrugged, "why have sour when you could have sweet?"

"it's for when sweet does not satisfy!" you argued, "there is a sour drink we make from a purple flower that you must try!"

there was a pause as he nodded, another look flashing across his face — something inviting.

"i would love to taste it before we depart," he added, "if you would like to show me, of course."

that endearing smile was back and you decided that it paired well with the swoop that you felt in your stomach.

a flush of warmth spread across your face as you smiled back.

"okay…"

"inoa," he said, "you may call me inoa."

it was only when your hand lifted up to formally greet him that you realized the choker was still in your grasp, dangling in front of your eyes.

"i would love to trade for this," your other hand untied your leather armband and held it out, "what do you think?"

his eyes never left yours, "beautiful, but it belongs on your body as much as that one does."

another surging swoop in your stomach, "then what can i trade for it?"

without hesitation, he said, "how about a story?"

your smile grew impossibly wider.

"a story?"

"yes. tell me a story — about yourself — and it is yours."

there was an easy smile that was just as interested as you were.

"alright…"

you faltered.

for someone that valued a good story, you could think of none.

what kind of story does someone tell when they want to impress another? surely one that does not involve the last person you were trying to impress.

a better question was: why do you want to impress him? a courtship would not follow. a friendship wouldn't either.

aonung had once said, 'a connection does not have to last forever. it can last a singular night, too.' although, he'd been slapped right after by the girl he'd said it to.

admittedly, you had remembered his words during the handful of times you'd found yourself breathless under someone. but, you never used his words to be as misleading as whatever he had been doing. to you, they were a definition — an expectation.

the tlalim were tied to no place and you were tired to no one.

you craved connection so why do you keep holding back?

and with the way this tlalim was looking at you —

shit — the story.

"when i was younger," you began, "i wanted to ride a skimwing before anyone else my age." your eyes wandered down, but you could feel his on you, "my people call them the mount of a warrior and i learned why when i tried to ride it on my own in the middle of the night—"

"she got this scar because a piece of coral stabbed her when she fell off."

you heard his voice at the same time you felt fingers touching the spot above your hip.

that feeling of rigidity was just as cold as you remembered it. skin tingled and everything else had gone numb.

it didn't matter.

all your focus singled on the fingers that were firmly pressed on you.

the touch itself wasn't foreign. he sometimes brushed that scar when he made fun of your stupidity and impatience. what was foreign was the pressure on it.

"you are back?" inoa asked.

he sounded far away.

you were far away.

soft brushes were familiar, but this wasn't that. it was the hand threaded with yours in a marui. it was the tail around your thigh on a beach. it was something that you would not dare name because he had no right to feel it.

and you were reminded of how you had no right to feel it either when inoa regarded him with a knowing look and asked, "did the girl like your gift?"

oh.

something stirred between your heart and your stomach. one tightened while one fell and you couldn't tell which was doing what. a similar thing was happening to your face.

"did she earn her choker?" he ignored the question.

small mercies.

"she did," inoa said, levity in his voice.

he grinned and it was pretty. it was present enough to pull you back. it was kind enough to distract you.

then, he stepped closer. with gentle hands, he pushed the curls off your shoulders and carefully tied the choker around your neck. knuckles brushed against your frigid skin as he adjusted it, warming it.

"you wear it well," he said.

another grin, but this time it was yours.

"thank you."

it came out quieter than you wanted.

"that was a kind gesture, but i need to take her," neteyam's hand was already wrapping around your arm, "she is being looked for."

tracking where he held you, up the curve of his shoulder and the slope of his neck, was that amber.

amber like fire. but it wasn't warm. it was fire so hot it felt cold.

and you couldn't look away.

"i am?" you questioned.

he held himself with practiced composure. nothing but the polite countenance that the eldest son of a revered leader would have. it was always three-fold in him, wearing it on behalf of his siblings who weren't burdened by those pressures.

but you knew him well enough to see through it; the grip around your arm and the look in his eyes gave him away.

"yes. on the beach," the lack of intonation in his voice said more than it was trying to.

you understood it clearly, even if he had said nothing at all.

to deny would make things worse. to accept would too. a cruel illusion of choice.

you sighed defeatedly and turned to inoa, "when do you depart?"

"right before eclipse," he paused, his smile hid the edge of a smirk, "i still want to taste your flower, if you still offer."

"the offer stands."

neteyam's grip squeezed in what might have been an involuntary spasm. at least, that is what you were going to believe it was, despite his tail twitching against the back of your thigh.

not a moment later, he was dragging you through the rows of goods and then through the woven walkways.

his stride was brisk, never slowing down even when you audibly struggled to keep up. his hand remained around your arm, never loosening even when you tried to yank it free. his eyes narrowed on the approaching beach, never glancing back to see how yours narrowed at him. his mouth was drawn into a line, never responding to any of your complaints.

not when you told him to slow down. not when you swore at him. certainly not when you hissed his name.

he kept his attention decidedly not on you until the sands treaded under your feet and you stood under the shade of those wretched palms. it was then that he finally let go.

braids swayed as he tilted his head, considering you for a moment.

"you looked happy," he said with a calm voice that did not match the way he looked.

"you did too," the words struggled to remain steady.

he only nodded, seemingly unaffected by your words if not for the tightening between his brows and in his jaw.

green and turquoise beads taunted you from where they rested, right above his collarbone. it was such a deliberate color for someone who typically wore blues.

you hated that you knew it was a new necklace. you hated that it still suited him. you hated wondering how close nu'ven must've stood to tie it around him. you hated how it stole your attention. oh, you hated it, you hated it, you hated it, you hated—

"why did he say that to you?" he asked, low and drawn out.

a simple question and it had an innocent answer.

but he said it like you'd done something wrong.

he had that same look that he gave to lo'ak when he was dragging him into problems that could've been avoided. you'd seen it enough times but now, it was pointed at you.

"it was not like that."

"you are not stupid — it was and he wanted you."

"does it matter if he did?"

"it does," he said incredulously.

"why?" you had a bitter smile as a finger jabbed at his chest, "you didn't want to be friends so you don't get to be involved in my life."

a harsh nod sent his braids swaying across his shoulders, "i was trying to do a decent thing by making sure that you were okay."

your scoff was disbelieving, "i was clearly fine until—"

"i interrupted your flirting?"

the strap of your small bag almost slid down your shoulder.

"i was not flirting," the heat that rose to your cheeks was the same as earlier… when you had been flirting.

"forgive me for being confused," his eyes descended to your neck, "you ask him the right questions, you flash your pretty eyes, and then you nod along like you care… but it means nothing, right?"

"that is not true," your voice wavered between arguing and pacifying.

"no?" he met your stare again, "it obviously meant nothing when you did it to me."

your mouth had opened for the fragile defense you had started to form, but it quickly collapsed somewhere into your stomach.

"are you just trying to hurt me back?" you asked weakly, "is that why you brought me here?"

he paused. his head fell back, stretching the tanhi that peeked from beneath that detestable necklace.

"shit," he muttered. the sigh that followed was ragged and heavy.

the muscles in his shoulders had been taut, but with that exhale, they seemed to unfurl. the rapid rise and fall of his chest had even begun to settle.

"my dad heard that your father was trying to arrange a courtship for you," his tone had shifted to something more familiar, "i asked for him to help me this morning — to convince him not to," he had his eyes set on your neck again, "i told your father that you should be the one to make that decision. i thought you would want to know."

there wasn't a word to describe the state your mind had entered.

vacant?

there was vacancy in there, yes — in speech, comprehension, mobility, functionality.

but it was not vacant.

there were so many thoughts piled into questions that lacked meaningful answers. vacancy seemed accurate, but your mind was not vacant.

it was overwhelmed? but that was too underwhelming of a word to use.

why wasn't there a better word? why were you so shocked? was shocked the better word? yes, you were shocked. why was he looking at you like that? why wasn't he saying anything? why weren't you?

he walked away somewhere between 'why had you stopped speaking to each other' and 'why had you stopped being friends'.

the rigid blur of blue as he rushed off the beach reminded you of exactly why. even better, it gave you an all-encompassing image of why.

all of a sudden, you were him stranded on that beach.

the future you had spent so many years imagining for yourself burst.

but yours wasn't vacant.

thank you to everyone who read the first part! i was overwhelmed by the support i received so thank you thank you thank you! the next part will likely be the last and although i already started writing it, i can't promise it will come out soon. i am in college and i have to prioritize that first. but it is consistently being written, don't worry :)

chapters: one 𓇼 two 𓇼 three