Do you think about neytiri and her grief?
She’s grown so accustomed to loss that it’s now part of her makeup, in her bones, all over her songcord. Her bottom lip wobbles more to sob more than it quirks up to smile.
The light in her eyes is gone, every time she thinks it can’t get dimmer, it does. Her son, her beautiful son, Neteyam, is down at the bottom of the sea. He is not nestled under the roots of a tree like he was meant to be.
His final wish was for him to go home and as a mother, she has failed, failed in giving him his last want.
But to her? What is home? It used to be this big, strong tree that housed hundreds, that took effort to scale and you could hear song travel throughout it. It was strong enough to hold them all, and strong enough to kill as it crushed brothers and sisters on the way down, as the sky people destroyed it.
Neteyam will never know what their true home should’ve looked like. And now Neteyam, swamped in yellow anemone, will never know anything again. He is dead, returned to eywa.
But no matter how many times she sings his song cord, or wears his jewellery, or connects to visit him, he is still dead. And the pain that is there is unbearable.
It is a surprise to be able to breathe, every breath feels stolen, if she could give them to him instead she would. Even just for a minute, if he could be breathing just for one more minute.
Her sister, her father, her home, her ikran, her home again, her son.
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