Following Toruk Makto's sorrowful disappearance, leadership of the Omatikaya clan was surrendered into the hands of Jake Sully's most trustworthy and loyal warrior, Tarsem Te Tskäo Reyìk'itan.
After the wretched passing of his mate, Tarsem's daughte...
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༺ One year ago ༻
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༺ Sa'kayia ༻
Soft echoes of muffled voices flowed through my ears, slowly fading away, overpowered by the sound of volcanic crystal gliding across the surface of the sharpening stone situated before me as it grew louder with each glissade travelled by the blade, reaching a point which almost felt deafening to my ears before being interrupted by a gentle voice, awakening me from the trance I found myself floating within.
'Mawey ma'ite, one more glide and the blade will cut straight through the stone' the soothing voice ceased my lucid state bringing my consciousness back to reality.
A bright smile painted itself on my face as I looked up at the familiar figure, feeling warmth flooding through my veins.
'Hey Ma!' I voiced, followed by a childish chuckle directed at my mother's irony.
'I must have been so focused I started drifting away into my own thoughts' I confessed, shifting my gaze towards her figure.
Her laughter echoed through the tent, brightening the aura flowing around us. My mother carried herself with such energy that never failed to bring peace within agitation, light within darkness, hope within despair. Never had she failed to impress me with her ethereal presence, feeling immense amount of pride by just having the privilege to lay my eyes upon her beauty. She was the calmness within me, and the bravery coating my exterior.
'What are you up to, child?' she asked, causing me to look around acknowledging my previous occupation.
'Sharpening my knives, Ma' I said reaching for one of the weapons laying before me and holding it up for my mother to inspect.
Accepting the offer, she took the knife out of my grasp, holding it up against the strip of light intruding through the tight gaps embedded into the material of our tent, admiring the blinding sparks reflecting off the surface of my blade.
