Tsireya washes the blood off of Lo'ak's hands when he is too weak to do so

~

"Lo'ak, you're shaking," Was he? "Are-are you cold?" He doesn't know. Maybe. Maybe not. "Please, talk to me," He couldn't. If he spoke, he'd start crying and wouldn't stop. "Can-can you at least look at me? Please?" No. If he met her red eyes, he'd run and not return. "Lo'ak, please," Don't beg. He couldn't help you if you beg. Neteyam begged, and he still died. "I-if you need alone time, I'll go. Just-please, tell me something, anything," He tried. He really did. All he could muster was simple: "Please," stay with me. Please don't leave me. "Please what? Do... do you want me to go? Or stay?"

Stay.

His throat burned horribly and his eyes stung bitterly. Tsireya didn't leave. She wrapped her arms around his stiff frame, holding him tightly. "I am so so sorry," She cried softly. ​​​​​​​Sorry won't do a lot. He thought. Tsireya didn't speak any more. Did I say that out loud? He wondered. Tsireya stayed tightly hugging him. It brought him back to reality a tiny bit. He twitched his hands to grab hers. He froze, glancing down.

Blood.
Everywhere.
On every single finger, all five of them.
In every single crevice.
Under his fingernails.
Cracking over his palms.

Tsireya's four fingered pale blue covered the blood red of his five fingered hand. "Lo'ak, look at me," She whispered.

He couldn't.

Blood.
Everywhere.
Neteyam's blood.

Tsireya grabbed his wrist gently and by autopilot, he stood and followed her. His feet moved on their own. His brain was too focused on his brother's blood covering his hands. Then he was by the water again. The seafood bubbled over his arms and Tsireya's hands. "Sit," She whispered. He did. "The way of water has no beginning and no end. Our hearts beat in the womb of the world. The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death. The sea gives and the sea takes." She murmured, a mantra. He found it calmed his heartbeat, bringing him back further down.

Tsireya's hands began rubbing his in the water, scrubbing the blood off. Initially, he flinched back, snatching his hands away. "Hey, you're ok," Tsireya soothed, palms open. It was like she was approaching a hostile animal. He scratched at the dried blood on his wrist, stopping immediately. It was a handprint - Neteyam's handprint from where he grabbed him, as he lay dying.

"I don't wanna die!" He gazed into Lo'ak's eyes. "I wanna go home," He panted. Lo'ak stared into his eyes, making sure to absorb every single detail before they closed forever.

"Hey, I have an idea," Tsireya's voice broke him free. "Why don't we use some spare tattoo ink and outline it? Hmm? Then we can wash the blood away, but you'll always have his hand on you," Lo'ak's eyes darted across her face before settling on her nose. He'd always found it easier to look at a nose or lips when he was talking to somebody. He jerked his head in a nod. "Ok then. Can I wash your hands? To get rid of the bl-to clean them?" He jerked again. Numbly, he watched as Tsireya cleaned the blood away.

It wasn't on his skin for long; maybe a few hours. The sun had only just begun to rise. It came away fairly easily. She held his wrist in between her thighs, protecting it from any water that splashed up.

A few moments passed before she wiped them dry with her loincloth. She stood, holding his hand tightly. "Come on. We'll get that wrist tattoo'ed,"