lomtu → neteyam sully [2]

mrr

→ 005; the knife

she ran.

to neteyam, watching kyati shove haka'i and then bolt away was a shock. it was unlike her, he thought at first. but then again, he hadn't seen or spoken to her in a year. had she changed? or, he reasoned, perhaps the sopyu boy had just given her a reason to do such a thing. yes, that had to be it. why else would kyati do something so aggressive? neteyam decided that following her would only cause more trouble necessary than needed. they would find some way to talk to each other later on. now, he would give her the opportunity to cool down. resigned with this conclusion, neteyam turned his head back to the festivities. he ignored, to the best of his abilities, the hurt look on haka'i ka'ato's face as he scrambled onto his feet. a few had seen the fall, and were offering him help or condolences. the future olo'eyktan—that seemingly unshakable boy—brushed them off and stalked off into the crowd with resolve.

⏜⏝⏜⏝

nighttime could not have been welcomed more. that welcoming ceremony—it was only fun for an hour or two. and then all neteyam wanted to do was enter the living quarters and get some sleep. but as he did so—thank eywa he was the first in the hut—he spied something foreign dangling from his bow. he snatched it up quickly, in a burst of panic. and then he pretended to busy himself with something trivial as his family made their way into their nivi. when they were all asleep soundly, he looked closely at it under the silver starlight.

it was kyati's knife. neteyam remembered the last time he'd seen it, felt its weight against his hip as he climbed into the wind. he remembered the intricate, swirling pattern carved into its handle which he could see now. neteyam suppressed his grin, before attaching the knife to his hip (just as he'd done before) and trying to make as little noise as possible on his way out.

by some miracle, he went undetected into the forest and made it through the dark to the base of the high trees. he could only assume she meant for him to come here, just like before. kyati and him had spent almost every spare moment here, together. he climbed—with difficulty at first, but eventually his body remembered how to wrench itself up a tree trunk and he scuttled up it easily. at least this would not change from last time. he could fall back into this pleasant pastime with an easy heart and an elated mind.

once he was there, the chilling night-wind shrieking pst his ears and threading through his braids, it took only a moment for kyati's voice to catch his attention.

"neteyam." with the infliction, he could almost hear the smile that he eagerly turned to find on her face. neteyam smiled right back. if there was even a chance that his affections towards kyati would have disappeared in a year, eywa had ensured that it did not happen.

neteyam's stomach lurched and fluttered. she was so close, now. he could feel the heat of her skin, if only he reached out. and he indulged himself. the two of them—older now, but somehow the same—reached forwards at the same time and interlocked their hands. their fingers.

"i missed you," kyati whispered. neteyam would have missed it, with the wind whistling so wildly around them, had he not been studying her face so intently. namely, her lips. that hopelessly infatuated lump of muscle in neteyam's chest pumped erratically.

"really?" kyati nodded, and he watched her cheeks darken as she realised; he'd stepped impossibly close. "i want to show you exactly how much i missed you." kyati's breath hitched ever so slightly. he could tell by the small, sudden tense of her throat.

"you do?" he could tell she was pleased. her voice was low and melodic.

neteyam nodded. "can i?"

"yes—" she'd barely gotten the whole word out before he dipped his head and caught her lips between his own. warm. fluttering. she was all he felt in that moment. neteyam found that his memory had not done kissing her justice.

translations

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