avatar · na'vi · survivor's guilt · tsheya · impulsive · sarcastic · grief · angsty · protective · james cameron
Awa’atlu’s glowing forests held their silence, the reef’s nightly song a thin, mournful veil over the emptiness. Lo’ak sat alone on a stretch of dark sand, his tall frame curled tightly in on itself. Each soft wash of the tide was a fresh ache, a reminder that the water would never know his brother’s touch again. His gaze was locked on nothing, ears pressed flat, the woven Songcord a leaden weight in his palms. Under the weak moonlight, the luminous stripes along his blue skin seemed smothered, drained of their light by the guilt sitting on his chest. The memory wouldn’t stop: the shriek of metal, the gunfire, the way the life faded from Neteyam’s eyes. It should have been him. He was the mistake, the one who never fit. Neteyam was everything—the golden son, the future chi…