1.- The land meets the sea

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I HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW MORNING BUT COULDN'T STOP WRITING OR THE IDEA WOULD BE GONE SO HERE YOU ARE, now I need to sleep. Seriously.

UNEDITED. probably will check later in the week. I wanted this to be a New Years gift to all of you, but I'm slow at writing and couldn't get it done before the clock hit 12:00, so yeah.

Love you all!

(Totally wasn't crying when writing this)

4.4k words

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Flying. 

There truly was nothing else that could compare to the feeling of flying, at least for Neteyam. Every time he flew, each time he went out to hunt with Sìlpey, his ikran, the thrill of it was unbelievable. There, in the clear skies, he felt free. He could be whoever he was, he could act silly, forget manners. He could forget the pressure to be perfect and just let himself be. 

He could remember his Iknimaya ritual vividly, just as the joy of making his parents, especially his father, proud. 

Sìlpey: Na'vi word for hope. 

He knew since their first flight together that he could rely on Sìlpey no matter what. Their bond was welcoming and freeing. Just like the first rays of sunshine, refreshing in a way he could not explain. 

It felt right. Sìlpey was his safe place.

His mother would often tell him stories about her first ikran, Seze, and Neteyam could see the nostalgic air that filled her eyes whenever she did so.

"Don't you miss her, mom?" Neteyam once asked, to which Neytiri just smiled at him.

"I may, but all energy is borrowed and there will come a time when we must give it back."

Neteyam felt his chest tighten at the thought of a time when he must part ways with Sìlpey. 

Despite how much he loved flying, this journey had certainly been tedious and excruciating since it left a lot of time for his mind to wander in his troublesome thoughts and wistful wishes of coming back home. Of being in the forest, hunting from the sky and on the land. 

His mind kept wandering places he didn't wish to recall. Thoughts about home, family, and friends. 

Thoughts of running away.  

Thoughts of his father being stripped away from his Olo'eyktan title, of him being stabbed in the chest for the completion of the ceremony. 

His father's symbolic death felt more like a true death.

Thoughts of his mother's face when his father had told her they had to elope, to seek refugee far away from home. 

Mother, who had fought so much yet couldn't be left with a moment of peace. It seemed that life would only permit rests in certain loops of time, for the storm must come raging in once again every once in a while.

He remembered the way Lo'ak had looked at him when their father announced the news. 

Incredulous, furious, desperate.

Disappointed.

When those words came out of his father, Neteyam's world crumbled, leaving in him a feeling of sorrow and loss so great he was unsure how to react. However, as expected of him, the perfect son of Toruk Makto, per his parents' teachings and responsibilities he knew to bear, Neteyam complied. Neteyam agreed to his parent's wishes and orders without a single complaint or argument on his part.

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