Shells | Lo'ak Sully

Part 21: Home

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(POV: Lo'ak)

She was quiet the entire way back. Not just in measures of noise but of touch, too; While there were no traces of sighs of relief, cries of joy nor jabs of resentment, there were much less efforts being made to prevent herself from falling. She held onto the saddle's handles, not me. Sometimes, I had to twist my head the slightest amount (which wasn't easy considering the recurring waves that weren't quitting) simply to check she was actually still there! I'd have liked it more if she was screaming at me or hitting me in some way, then at least I'd know she was safe.

I knew she'd be angry at me. And, of course, I didn't blame her one bit for it either, I just...

I would much rather have her hate me than not have her with me at all.  — And so, in this ironically specific instance, that would include preferably not having her fall to the seas just because she hated me too much to hold on.

I hadn't seen her in so long, and due to the rush of everything in those final moments of escape, I hadn't looked at her properly. I didn't know if when I had grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her away, that she'd looked at me with spite or with gratitude. —

— I silently wished it was the latter.

.

Once we arrived back at the reef, I discovered it to be a lot quieter than when I had left. I knew of a few who would surely be lurking somewhere in the village, however I had no energy to converse nor explain to any of them what had happened. And by association, I also assumed on behalf of Ni'teya that she wouldn't be in that kind of mood, either. So, I brought my ilu around to a beach further away from the village's entrance, wondering whether or not I should ask the girl behind me if I had made the right call or not.

Thinking far too deeply, I dismounted my ilu, quickly noticing that the passenger seat was empty as I swivelled in my seat. It didn't take me long to spot her, traipsing her way through the water towards the beach, not turning to face me.

Oh, Eywa. I really hope it was the latter.

I knew I couldn't leave her by herself. I'd seen her state as she was being forced to kneel on the ship; She looked weak, which wasn't something I thought I'd ever describe Ni'teya as and mean it. Though I couldn't see any physical marks nor scratches, I could tell pain loomed, visible or not.

I followed her until I reached the sea's edge, watching what she'd do next. What she did do, confused me.

She stopped, looked down and stood there still for a few long seconds before she brought only one of her hands up to her face, rubbing something.

Knowing what that meant, I rushed to her side.

I didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but I spoke.

"Teya?" I called, making my way to her as she didn't turn to receive it. I could hear her from where I was. "Ni'teya? Are you alright? Are you okay? Tell me what it is, I'll fix it, okay? I'll—"

Then, she looked at me and I could see it. — The latter, that is. — She looked worn, gleeful and anxious all at once, I couldn't tell which feeling she was feeling the most. But, despite everything else, what I cared to spot was that that emotion I was so used to receiving from her: That one that took on the unmissable form of a nasty glare, wasn't there. Instead of pushing me away, she just looked up at me. — At first, it looked like she was about to speak up but rather quickly she backed out of it. Then, most of the emotions I was able to see seemed to leave her countenance, leaving her with only once...