The Will of Two Worlds (Avatar Female OC)

78. Talking to Eywa

I sat, cross legged behind The Tree of Souls, my elbows resting on my knees as I held my head up, staring up that the glowing willow like strands of the tree, my mind empty of thoughts for the first time in a very long time. I could hear the snores of a few Omaticaya on the other side of the tree, sleeping the night away. Ca'lil was quiet, leaning into my side, not asleep but not talking either. 

I looked out of the edge of my eye at her, only to find here eyes closed, her head facing up to the tree like she was praying to Eywa for help. I looked up at the tree as well, staring at the tree with no thought.

But one.

I need sleep.

I know that, I know that sleep is needed. I cannot go into a battle half awake, half asleep, but yet... Here I am, awake, unable to convince my cowardly soul to return to my human body and deal with the immense pain I am feel just a small fraction of. In this body, I feel like my soul found it's right host. Here, I am sure of myself and what I am doing, sure of my actions even through my fear. Here, I feel like I am who I was always meant to be, and maybe that is true because of Eywa choosing me at birth.

In my human body, however, I feel so many unpleasant emotions. If this body was the walls I hold up with no break in the barrier, then my human body is the pieces hidden deep in the pits, the fear, the pain, the weakness. There, in my human body, I do not feel like the strong person I once was. Things terrify me more, and emotions I wish would go away plague my thoughts. 

Having two bodies is hard, especially when you wish with part of your soul that your soul could stay in this body. The other half of me cries out for Tulte, cries out for The Great Mother Eagle and the Elders of Tulte. The other half of my soul begs for this pain and agony to end, to give up and let me be at peace.

That side of my soul is a part I hate, I hate that I just wish it would all end, the pain, the suffering, the agony mixed in with the good. Maybe it's just my mindset. I am sure knowing of one's approaching death can do a number on their mental health and happiness, and maybe that is what I am feeling. I don't know for sure, I don't know much of anything anymore.

I stared up at the tree before doing something I never never done before. I closed my eyes and, without connecting my queue or speaking aloud, I just spoke to Eywa.

I don't know if this works, or if you can hear me, but I just wish to speak. So much has changed, so much in me has changed and I struggle to orient it all. I put on a good show for the Omaticaya, for the clans now readying for battle around me, but I know in my heart that is nothing but a show for their strength and hope to remain. I don't know if Tsu'tey can see through that show or not, there are times I think he can and it scares me. I put on a good show, but I am terrified. Terrified of death. Terrified of the coming battle, of loss, and, as much as I hate myself for it, of you, Eywa. It is hard for me to say, and I don't quite understand what changed, but connecting to you in this new and confusing way I unlocked is terrifying. I feel more than myself, I feel more than one or two creatures, I feel all of them all around me, singing, hunting, playing, fighting, and defending. Thousands of instincts bombarding my mind at once, too much for any sane person to withstand.

And yet... I have somewhat done so twice already. Am I already insane? Did I guarantee the loss of my mind?  Why can I withstand that pull, well somewhat withstand the pull, and come back acting normal? Is it all just a front? 

What I truly hate, is knowing I am a week or maybe days from my end. I know it's coming, I can practically feel it lurking just around the corner, waiting to pull me away from the home I have built. Before the fall of Hometree, this thought hurt a lot more than it does now. Is it horrible of me to just... want to be away from the pain, the loss, and the grief? For months I have clung onto the edge of falling down a deep pit of depression, forcing myself to pull up strength I didn't know I had to keep my head above the dark waters.