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nattikay · 5 months

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It had all happened so fast.

Sitting cross-legged in the tsahìk’s freshly-woven marui, Neytiri found it difficult to believe how different her life had been hardly four months prior. Engaged to her late sister’s beloved. Struggling to fill the role of tsakarem in said sister’s place. Filled with bitterness toward the sky people who had killed her just a few years before…

She’d wanted nothing more to do with those aliens. Nothing more to do with that school. She’d known Grace Augustine since she was very young, almost as long as she could remember, and she’d always been kind, but not even Grace could protect Sylwanin from those nasty metal weapons. Not Sylwanin, not Neytep, not Anuk…

No. She’d been so angry at the sky people, at all of them, even Grace and her scientists, that she’d been ready to shoot that one clumsy dreamwalker on sight the moment she first saw him stumbling through the underbrush.

And yet…so much had happened since then.

Bringing that dreamwalker back to Hometree, at Eywa’s insistence. Her mother forcing her to become his teacher. Teaching him the ways of the Omatikaya, and those of the Na'vi more broadly…annoyed at first, but gradually softening as he actually seemed to take her instruction to heart. He’d been a quick learner, surprisingly humble, endlessly curious like a small child, and about as coordinated as one too, at first. Without even realizing it, as his understanding and abilities grew, so did her affection for him…an affection that must have been mutual, because before she knew it they were mating in the soft glow of Utraya Mokri, unabashedly sealing their bond before Eywa, commiting to each other for life. Neytiri’s face tinged the slightest purple at the memory. It certainly hadn’t come with all the bells and whistles of a normal mating ceremony, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

…but then…the sky people ruined that too, the great metal claws of their crass machines ripping down the sacred trees with careless abandon. They came for Hometree soon after, decimating the village Neytiri had grown up in, and taking several lives with it. Including her father. She’d watched him die there in the rubble. Just like Sylwanin.

She’d been so angry at Jake. He had known about the impending arrival of the sky people and their fire-spitting beasts the whole time. Why hadn’t he told them? Why hadn’t he told her? But…he was a dreamwalker, after all. A sky person’s mind riding a false body. Just like Grace, who couldn’t save Sylwanin. They were all the same. They were always the same—

…yet then he returned to the clan as Toruk Makto, and in that moment Neytiri understood with startling certainty that despite any poor decisions he may have made in the past, he really was on the clan’s side now, he was ready to risk everything for them and for Pandora, and he had the endorsement of Eywa herself.

The relief was enough to make her head spin.

Then came the death of Grace, despite the clan’s valiant effort to save her. Then the great battle in the mountains. Seze’s death. Tsu'tey’s. So many other allies…the survivors saved only by Eywa’s miraculous intervention.

Killing the sky people’s olo'eyktan in his beastly metal machine. Saving Jake’s sky person body, which could not breath the natural air (and, she discovered that day, could not even walk on its own). Sending the surviving sky people back to their own world, save for a few who had sided with the Na'vi.

Recuperating the clans. Building a new village. Tending to battle wounds. Grieving the fallen.

So much had happened.

It had been barely more than four months since Neytiri first aimed her bow at that strange dreamwalker.

It had all been so fast. Like a dream.

And now…

Now…

Neytiri’s trembling fingertips traced a light, shaky pattern across her own abdomen.

A baby.

She was going to have a baby. She and her mate. Her husband, the former dreamwalker.

Maybe I’m still dreaming.

Continue reading on Ao3→

#avatar #avatar 2 #fanfic #jeytiri #sully family #jake sully #neytiri #mo'at #wasn't sure if I should post this to tumblr cuz my fics (on the rare occasion that I actually write any) don't really get much traction her #well....i guess they don't get much traction anywhere really #but then i figured. i spent three days' worth of my precious free time writing this dumb heap of cheese #might as well share it :P

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abronzeagegod · 4 months

Text

Dead Letters, Missing Wife

Dead Letter #0 & 1 Marriage Certificate and 'Come Find Me'

[a cleaned up and longer version of this post and prompt]

You had just turned 18 over the weekend. Reaching the age of majority or whatever. Sunday birthdays are whatever, you have the day off of school and responsibilities but the looming threat of Monday hangs over the entire day.

At least with this Monday you have the joy of looking forward to belated birthday letters and things being delivered to you since the mail doesn't go on Sundays.

Sure enough after school there was a small stack of letters for you.

Grandma, aunts, uncles, your one weird cousin that lives in the mountains.

All birthday wishes and greetings. I was nice.

Then there was a large, thick envelope that said, "Department of Recognition, Vows, and Contracts."

You carefully tear along the edge of the large envelope and open it. Two things are there. One is something that looks like what you imagine your eventual college diploma would look like. Thick, impressive paper that almost feels laminated, some kind of fun calligraphy across it. There was also a piece of paper.

The paper was forgotten about at first.

The certificate, was a marriage certificate. For you and your first crush, your best friend at 6 years old, Siobhan.

There was your name and Siobhan Winters.

"This certificate recognizes the wedding vows exchanged between these two parties as complete and binding upon the youngest reaching their age of majority."

The memories come flooding back. You hadn't thought of Siobhan in years. Hell, you haven't even seen them in twice as long.

You were a demanding six year old. It was something about you that you were just adamant that this was how things were and how they were supposed to be. And seeing Siobhan, a cute little kid with long blonde hair that was so blonde it was almost white, big green eyes, and just this quiet demeanor to everyone but you, of course she was the one that you figured out what the terms "crush" and "fall in love" and everything meant. Those words were just words, descriptions of parents and grandparents and why they were together for so long, but Siobhan was the person that made the definition real and gave it tangibility and form for you.

She was your best friend but that wasn't quite enough for you at six years old. You dragged her to the pond out back of the neighborhood. The pond was on the edge of a small wood, really nothing more than a copse of trees and wilderness in the suburban sprawl, but it felt like a great and terrible wood when you were that small.

You donned a veil because there was something Traditional, and Correct, about hiding your face from your best friend/crush. You didn't have a ring but you did spend your allowance on candy at the corner shop, and in your haul were two candy rings.

There were somethings about weddings that you know, but you don't know much.

You know there was a veil, that was very important. You know there were rings. You know there were vows and witnesses.

There were vows, you know that for a fact. You just can't quite remember, now, what they were. Siobhan said them with such gravitas and meaning and weight to them that you still feel the shivers up your spine when you think about it.

The frogs were your witnesses.

The ring pops were the binding rings, exchanged with words of devotion.

Siobhan lifted your veil, and pulled you into a hug.

As far as the two of you were concerned, you were married!

The frogs croaked in happiness.

Apparently, the Department of Recognition, Vows, and Contracts also thought that the marriage was real. And as the younger of the two, you were the last one to reach the age of majority, and the marriage certificate was mailed to you.

As if that answered any questions.

The nostalgia calls after you and you want to remember Siobhan as they were and not the hazy memories of childhood.

You immediately start digging through your old year books, or whatever the grade school equivalent of a year books was.

It was only then that you recall that Siobhan never made it to picture day in kindergarten.

Nor did she make it to picture day the year after, or the year after, or any year until she moved away in sixth grade.

Puzzled, intrigued, and now even more confused, you head downstairs where you find your mom working hard on a crossword puzzle.

"Hey, what's a four letter word for black and white?" she asks.

"Oreo," you answer without really thinking about it. "Hey, do you remember my friend Siobhan? From kindergarten and grade school?"

Your mom finishes filling in your answer, looking pleased with herself for having most of the puzzle finished. "Was that the weird one with the cape and the glasses?"

"No, that was Steph."

"Oh yeah, she really loved random trivia, didn't she?"

"Yup."

"Siobhan was the one that was always looking for dinosaur bones in everyone's backyard?"

"That's Joel. No, Siobhan. She came over all the time, we would go play in the backyard, and went to the park together like every day. You didn't like her dad like at all. One day after kindergarten I demanded that I was gonna make her my wife and did a little ceremony out by the pond."

"Oh! Right!" Your mom looks up at you, lost in memory for a second. "Lived across the street, wild black hair, always asked if we had Cheetos."

"No. Mom. That was Matt. Siobhan. Cute kid, always seemed to be the smallest kid in class. Green eyes that had a look you called 'an old soul with the million yard stare'. Platinum blonde hair that was almost grey in a very long braid all the time."

Your mom makes eye contact with you but she doesn't seem to see you. "You never had a friend like that," she says in a strange, almost monotone.

Confused and a little weirded out, you decide to drop it, and head back up to your room. If you mom wasn't going to help you then perhaps the internet would. You don't like to brag, but you're extremely adept at Facebook stalking and finding people.

One time, at your part time job over the summer, you had a really weird coworker that you only knew for three days, lied about almost everything, and then was fired for being outrageously high on the clock. They claimed that they were getting a job in a small town in Alaska as a Fire Marshall and promptly disappeared.

All you had to find them was their first name and the fact that they worked at the same place you did for a very short amount of time.

It took you only a couple of days to find them. They did not move to Alaska, they went one town over and bounced around between barbacking jobs and running a mildly successful etsy shop.

So you use all the skills that you possess and try to reach out to all sorts of people to find someone with a shared memory of Siobhan. Friends, teachers, people you shared classes with that you'd rather never speak to again.

Every. Single. Response. "You never had a friend like that."

This went from being some weird, intriguing mystery, to something vaguely sinister, and deeply creepy.

No one seemed to remember Siobhan except for you. You remember them now, perfectly. Your first crush. The first person you ever developed feelings for, as real and as deep as any 6 year old possibly could develop.

You remember her vividly. Hugging her was the best. She was shy and didn't like to be touched too much, so when she did let you hug her it was the best. It was like hugging a piece of glass. Sharp, beautiful, and fragile. You always felt that if you hugged her too tightly she was shatter.

There was no way you could let this rest now. No way that you could let this end now.

You call the government office that issued you the certificate of marriage. Or at least. You tried to contact the government office.

The website listed no such department, neither locally nor federally.

You called city hall and they transferred you to a dead line.

Out of desperation you called the post office to see where the letter came from.

"Hello," you say for the fifth time this particular call after being transferred too many times. "I was hoping that you could help me track down who sent me a letter and not transfer me to someone else. I received a marriage certificate with my name and information but I can't find anyone who would have sent this to me, the department seemingly doesn't exist."

The deep, bored, and phlegmy voice asked simply, "And your spouse?"

"Siobhan Winters, I can't find any record of her either!" you say, perhaps too loudly, but your frustration is overwhelming you.

"Oh. You got a dead letter. Undeliverable since Siobhan Winters ain't here. But if your her spouse w can send you all the stuff we got sitting here for her. Do you accept?"

"Yes! Wait. What? What do you mean?"

"Everything will be delivered to you in the next two to three business days, thank you for contacting the Dead Letter Office. You have a pleasant day."

You couldn't do anything else before he hung up. You stare at the phone for a while before putting it down.

All you can do is wait for the dead letters to make it to you.

When the letters finally arrived there were boxes full. At least six boxes full of mail, and a few packages. It would take you, by rough estimate, at least three days to go through it all. Even if half of it was spam mail, it would take forever.

But on top of one of the boxes that you just found outside your front door, seemingly delivered before the sun rose, was a letter. It was addressed to you, sort of.

"To the spouse of Siobhan Winters"

That was you, by all accounts.

The letter was sealed with wax, and seemingly made out of heavy parchment, like some kind of ancient letter.

You opened it first.

"To my love,

I fear I must apologize for a great many things. I never wished to abandon you or break our vows, but there are actions I must take, deeds that must be done, purposes I must fulfill. If you have found this, found me, then I am sure you have many questions.

If you must search me out, then you can find my trail starting at our favorite place.

I love you still. I love you forever.

I still remember our vows and will endeavor to never corrupt or break them.

Please find me.

I miss you.

I need you.

I am so afraid.

Yours till the end of time,

Siobhan Winters"

You carefully fold the letter, and hold it close to you for a second.

It seems like you have to go out and find your wife.

You bring all the boxes inside, carefully put them in your bedroom where space is already running low. Your parents, barely awake and carefully sipping coffee watch you with mild confusion and interest.

"Everything good?" your dad asked as you carried in the last box.

"Mix up with the post office. A bunch of unsent mail finally made it my way," you half explain.

"Ok..."

With all of the boxes in your room you start to unpack and sort them.

There were hundreds if not thousands of spam mail for Siobhan. It seems that the only people that remember her are you and the person in charge of trying to sell HelloFresh boxes.

There seemed to be four serious piles of mail by the time that you finish sorting all six boxes.

The first pile, the biggest one, was spam mail. The one inexhaustible truth in the universe.

They were all addressed to Siobhan Winters, but seemingly were listed under a couple dozen addresses all over the country. There was something there, a code or a pattern in Siobhan's movements. But you don't quite have the brain power to think that one through.

The second pile were bills. None of them were overdue, but just notices for the stopping and starting of service. This felt like a pattern too, one that you could combine with the spam mail to really track where Siobhan had been over the course of the years she's been gone.

But that wasn't the important thing, yet.

Because the third and forth piles were much more interesting, and they were all addressed to "The Spouse of Siobhan Winters".

There were letters, all extremely similar to the first one you opened, all addressed the same, all sealed similarly.

Then there were packages. They were of various sizes but most of them were pretty small.

This was a mystery and an adventure, so you wanted to start at the end. Find Siobhan right away and then work through the rest.

After carefully looking over each letter you see that there were small numbers written on the back of each letter and package, right near the seal.

You couldn't make out the exact details of the seal in the dark purple wax, but you realize that it was probably a tower of some kind with some squiggly line accents.

The last letter, one with the number 60 on it, was the highest one you found, so you opened that one first.

Answers to start, adventure later.

"My love,

There is an order and a reason for this. It may be difficult, and it may change you in ways that you cannot see or predict. I say this now, here, that the road is long and difficult, for the better and the worse, and the changes are fundamental and total and incomprehensible until you go through it.

I do not want to discourage you from this journey.

I want you to be prepared.

You cannot remain, the act of searching has already started and changed you. There is no going back.

If you stop I would not blame you, nor would I intrude upon the peace you would inevitably seek and find. I would weep for the loss.

If you do wish to continue, you must know that there is an order, a reason, and a pattern to the journey. You cannot jump to the end, even though I recall you desperately reading the last chapters of books in school because you needed to know if there was a happy ending. This is not a story you can skip to the end.

I'm sorry.

The journey will be long and will alter everything for you. In the end there will be a choice, for you to make alone.

I'm sorry that all you have of me are these dead letters. But if you follow them in order, if you undergo the journey with me, after me, you will understand.

Yours for all time,

Siobhan"

You close the letter and sit on your bed.

After all this time she still remembers you so clearly it seemed. You still look up the plot summary of movies and TV shows before you start watching them. You'll spoil yourself left and right on things to make sure that they aren't going to end badly or not be worth the time investment.

It seems that this is not something that you can skip to the end of, this is a journey that you will have to take from the beginning.

There were so many letters and packages.

And you had a feeling that many of these things would have you going to wildly different places.

You grab your bag, stuff in some snacks and a bottle of water, and grab letter number 2.

If this is how it has to be, then you're going to start walking to the old pond where the two of you got married in kindergarten.

i have a kofi

#dead letters missing wife #i have some ideas going forward but before i went further i had to double back and clean some stuff up #work has also been killing me so time is precious #i'm working on like 4 other writing projects at the same time too #my fiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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