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Leilani used to deem the icy-cold, unsympathetic ocean water as the most efficient thief, it comes to steal away all forms of heat like how the most passionate of lovers would steal a kiss in the dead of a winter night. Perhaps, that thief might just be roaming about her helpless form right now. Bubbles floating against her cheek, and her fingers deeply wrinkled and rubbery, an unsettling feeling swam above to the base of Leilani's throat. She thought she just might hurl underwater any moment now. The familiar sinking of her heart to the dreary pit of her stomach, an impending doom hiding skillfully amongst the deepest, unexplored depths of the ocean. She was swimming with Payakan in the reefs long enough to know she had lost track of time completely beneath the surface of the water.
Something just wasn't right, but Leilani had always convinced herself she was her own home, she was her own refuge in the eeriness and uncanniness of the vibrant, pastel-colored corals. Courage and resilience blooms after it is watered by that choking, sinister feeling of the ocean, there lies all the beauty to it. "Could it be an Akula swimming about? Could it be something more?" Leilani held her form steadfast against the currents, unwavering against trusty Payakan's fin, silenced by her thoughts.
There were not many sightings of Akulas in Three Brothers' before. Every few weeks, she was met with the sight of the three towering rocks, like three guardian warriors of the sea, but there was certainly no trace of an Akula here before. Though, the possibility of it lurking beneath, ready to attack, sent her adrenaline pumping high.
In Leilani's book, reckless risk-taking definitely would come before obedience to the remorseless rules of the sea. So, she ventured further.
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Of all the Na'vi in the whole of Pandora, who, but only Lo'ak, was the most familiar with Regret? Who, but only Lo'ak, could look at the face of Regret and call Him a friend? Who, but only Lo'ak could hide his shame and guilt beneath the sorrowful emotions that Regret passed along his way. Regret for even trusting Ao'nung and his minions.
All this agony, all this torment, all for what?
For a speck of acceptance and acknowledgment from his peers?
He could just laugh.
Acknowledgement of what? Acceptance of what?
Ladies and gentlemen, he is the fool.
He could have Paradise at the tip of his fingers, Eywa's prophecies at the tip of his tongue, and still, no one would care to listen, to understand his story.
It was his final moments before the ocean became his sacred cradle and if any of that would earn a pathetic crumb, a pitiful fragment of his Father's attention, he would die the happiest boy in all of Pandora.
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Paradise might not be at the tip of his fingers, but Leilani's hand was.
It seems her agility and perfectly coordinated form had been built and suited for exact situations like this. Her arm encircled around the curvature of the boy's waist, his lanky and gaunt figure carried around like an inanimate, lifeless doll. Time was running, first in the race, could the tenacity of life ever beat the threat that was the disgracefully quick ticking of the minutes? Leilani wasn't going to stick around to find out. As they reached the surface, she whistled for her friend, swiftly connecting with the gentle creature.
The sight of the nearing shore of Leilani's island, an especially beautiful, hopeful landscape. The body of the unconscious hastily spread across a smoother, leveled surface. Chest compressions began without hesitation. She doesn't even know the boy and silvery tears are welling up at his state along with familiar aches within her chest. He wasn't her kind. But what does that even mean to her anyway.
Before the process of resuscitating could get even more frustrating and discouraging, the boy's lids shot open, and violent fits of coughing ensued. Before Leilani could even form the feelings of rejoice and relief, he blacked out again. Probably, from fatigue, she concluded. The honeyed rays of sunlight were beginning to scorch on her skin, she took the cue to manage the boy onto her nivi, her finely, netted hammock alone.
There wasn't any time for her to truly examine his odd features before, but looking closely now, she seemed to recognize his light sapphire-colored skin and the swirls and patterns of a darker azure color that seemed to be embroidered in. How can she ever overlook the little stars that decorated his face, like a painter splattering his brush coated with golden paint. His face was really like a painter's muse.
But other than being a work of art, he was like a persistent voice speaking at the back of her mind. The bugging feeling of forgetting something when, perhaps, one hasn't forgotten at all. Or has she?
