The sun set over the horizon, illuminating the water with every ripple and wave and reflecting just the right amount of light.

Sersei thought the view from the forest looked better—especially when there wasn't some lady who didn't even know her complaining about her capabilities as a future Tsahik. If she could, Sersei would have talked back to defend her honor.

Stupid social anxiety.

"Okay, Sullys, fall in." Jake commanded, rounding the corner to the small marui they situated in.

Trailing behind her two brothers, she scowled at the harsh edge to Neteyam's words. "Remember? Family meeting," he yanked Lo'ak by the arm and pulled him down to the ground.

Sersei briefly rubbed her younger brother's shoulder to comfort him before she squatted next to him with Tuk on her left.

"Come on, take a knee, let's go." He ushered them. "Okay," Jake started, "I need you kids on your best behavior. I mean it. Learn fast, pull your weight." Then he directed his attention to his youngest son. "Don't cause trouble, got it?"

It almost felt like a personal attack to him. "Yes sir." Lo'ak nodded, earning a hand to the nape of his neck by Neteyam. The younger boy snarled sharply and swatted his older brother away, earning some form of a smile from Sersei.

It was brief, but distracted her for a mere moment from her own insecurity. It was no secret Lo'ak couldn't stay in line—even if it was important.

"I want to go home," Tuk choked out, tears streaming from her eyes as she turned to their father. Her ears turned down as she hastily wiped at her cheeks.

Neytiri sighed. "Oh, Tuk."

"Tuk," Jake swallowed, taking her small hand in his, "this is our home now." Then, he turned to the rest of their siblings. "Now we're gonna get through this," he assured. "We're gonna get through this if we have each others' backs, alright?"

To prevent her from worrying too much, Sersei lifted Tuk off the raised bin she was sitting on and brought her close. She mimicked the position her father had the girl in earlier and rubbed her hand comfortingly over her back. "It's gonna be okay, Tuk, I promise." She whispered in her little sister's ear.

"What does your father always say?" Their mother looked around for the answer from her children.

"Sullys stick together." Neteyam was the first to answer.

Sersei brought the younger girl away from her shoulder and let her swivel her head around. "What does he say, Tuk?" She asked, wiping the drying tears from under her eyes.

"Sullys stick together," she mumbled.

"Sullys stick together, exactly.." Sersei repeated with a light smile.

Jake nodded. "That's right, Sullys stick together. Now this time, with some feeling, yeah."

They repeated the phrase, Sersei rubbing Tuk's back to make sure she was listening. "Do you hear that, Tuk? We stick together as a family."

Kiri was the last one to speak. "Sullys stick together," she rolled her eyes.

Sersei turned her attention back to her little sister in her arms and stood up. "Are you ready to swim? The water looks so clear."

"I know!" Tuk exclaimed, forgetting all about her worries. "And it surrounds us everywhere! It's nothing like home, though,"

The older girl could already see the tears forming in her eyes once again—and she wouldn't let them escape. If Tuk was happy, Sersei was happy. She would never let her siblings be her second priority. "Well," she was quick to distract the girl, "home isn't just a place."

"What do you mean?"

"Home is-," Sersei paused, thinking for a moment. "Home is where our family is together as one." She set Tuk down on the ground and plastered a smile on her face. "You're my family, Tuk. We all are. This is our home."

"Really?" She asked.

"Of course." The older girl squatted down and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You know, you're my favorite sibling. Don't tell Neteyam, though."

"I heard that!" Said boy scolded teasingly.

Tuk nodded with a cheesy smile as Sersei suppressed her own grin. "Okay!"

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

Sersei was now standing on the edge of the dock, attention directed to her little sister when a faint yell interrupted their moment. "Incoming!" She barely had time to turn her head to spot Neteyam running at his top speed toward the girl.

Once the situation faintly registered in her mind, it was too late. Neteyam pulled her body flush against his without any chance of escaping his embrace and lept off the edge, dragging his twin sister with him.

Sersei's loud squeal of surprise was quickly muffled by the water, the two disappearing under with the trace of bubbles at the surface. For a moment, the other three of their siblings peered down, waiting for their resurface.

Just as she was about to swim up and take a deep breath of air, Sersei caught sight of a fish swimming in her line of sight. She paused, treading enough to keep herself under.

The water was as clear as glass—almost like it wasn't even there—and it was warm. Warmer than the ponds and lakes back home. Unlike the forest, the reef had the sun beaming down every moment of the day until eclipse. Most bodies of water were covered overhead with lush green trees, blocking light from heating them up.

For the first time since the Tsahik of the Metkayina undermined her, the corners of Sersei's lips perked up by pure astonishment. A real grin of joy.

Flailing her arms, Sersei swam up and broke through the surface with her head. She gasped for the air her lungs burned for and threw a few of her misplaced braids back behind her shoulders. Wiping her eyes, she grabbed a hold of the edge of the dock next to her recently surfaced brother and chuckled in disbelief.

"You guys have got to get in here, it's insane!" Neteyam told them. Sersei's eyes widened, immediately seeing his hidden intent and parted her lips to object when the boy shushed her with a finger to his mouth discreetly.

"Seriously?" Lo'ak leaned forward, trying to see through the reflection above to see the water below.

"Absolutely." Her brother assured, then outstretched his hands. "Here, help me up."

Blindly, the younger boy grabbed a hold of his forearms and prepared to pull him out of the water when his eyes morphed into mischief. Neteyam pulled his arms back and yanked his brother into the water with him.

Lo'ak let out a yelp, falling into the water with a loud and great splash. Neteyam's laughter blared out, one hand catching himself back onto the dock to hold himself up. His gaze flickered to his twin sister, who barely contained her own chuckles behind her hand.

"Bro!" The younger boy wiped the water from his eyes and glared at his brother.

Neteyam was wearing a shit-eating grin, mockingly furrowing his faint brows. "Did you even look under, bro?"

Swiveling her head around, Sersei spoke to her sisters. "Neteyam wasn't lying, it's beautiful in the water."

"How will we get in?" Kiri furrowed her brows.

"Jump! Like they did," she referred to the three Metkayina teens who dove in earlier. Using her arms to shelter her face from the splash, Kiri and Tuk awkwardly jumped off the dock, the younger girl giving a short scream.

Taking a deep breath, Sersei ducked her head under and swam down. Copying the way she observed other reef natives swimming, she grew further from the surface until she could stretch her hand out and touch the coral below.

Kiri probably loves this, Sersei thought to herself. It was almost a second nature to imagine what her siblings would think before her own preferences clouded her mind. Looking over to her younger sister, Kiri seemed to be fascinated with the fish as they swam around her.

Like she was their deity.

The girl grabbed a hold of one of the coral pillars rooted into the ground and propelled herself off it, attempting to swim further through the water. Sersei already took notice of the way the Metkayina looked and swam—they used their tails and wider limbs to swim faster in the water.

Flailing her arms and kicking her legs more, Sersei noticed her lungs begging for air. She tried to ignore it, shaking off the urge to match the other three. It wasn't long before the undeniable feeling crept closer to her throat until it was unbearable.

Sersei looked over to her brothers barely behind her and observed how they, too, felt the need to breathe. If she weren't so distracted, she would have sighed in relief to not be the only one without the lung capacity to stay underwater for so long.

The surface tension broke as Sersei popped up and gasped, breathing heavily to fill her lungs once again. "How are they staying under for so long?" Sersei breathed out, turning her head to her twin brother next to her.

He only shrugged and stuck his head back under to see the other three. She copied him and looked down, watching the girl—Tsireya—make hand motions with a smile. Sersei furrowed her brows and shrugged her shoulders, oblivious to what she was trying to say.

Eventually, she pursed her lips and swam down hastily in an attempt to be closer to them until something switched in her mind. Sersei swiveled her head around the entire way, treading water barely enough with wide eyes.

Kiri was nowhere in sight—until she spotted the girl's blue skin from afar kneeling on the sand below with fish drifting around her like she was warmth in an ice cold room.

She kicked her feet and swam up to breathe once again, following her brothers and rounding around her little sister to make sure she got up safely. Sersei was now floating between the younger girl and Lo'ak.

"Are you alright?" Tsireya asked as soon as her head breached the surface, Rotxo in tow.

"You're too fast! Wait for us!" Tuk complained, wiping water from her eye and holding onto her older sister's shoulder to support herself.

"Just breathe," the Metkayina girl tried to explain.

Ao'nung was the last to swim up, lips already moving to form a snarky remark before he even took a breath. "You are not good divers," he scanned the four with a smirk, eyes lingering a little longer on one of them, "maybe good at swinging through trees, but-"

Tsireya cut him off with a slap to the back of his head, his smug facade dropping immediately.

"I'd like to see him claim an ikran." Sersei murmured to her brothers in English, fist tapping to Neteyam's as he suppressed a grin.

Lo'ak was the one to chuckle out loud at her comment, concealing it with his hand. The metkayina girl cocked her head and creased the space between her brows in curiosity. "What did you say? What language is that?"

"English," Sersei replied, looking over at Ao'nung with a humorous glint in her eyes. "And I said I would like to see you claim an ikran—or finish your iknimaya and become a man."

"I- I am a man!" He tried to counter, a blush forming on the tips of his ears.

Neteyam interrupted his embarrassment. "We don't speak this- finger talk, guys, we don't know what you're saying."

"I will teach you," Tsireya proposed.

"Where is Kiri?" Rotxo asked suddenly, like he just realized.

"Who?" Ao'nung faintly asked.

"Kiri, where is Kiri?"

Sersei knew she shouldn't ruin her younger sister's moment with the animals—she knew the deep connection she had with every child of Eywa. Instead, she shrugged and played dumb. "I dunno, do you?"

—

Riding an ilu was the second part to adapting to the way of the Metkayina. Sersei stood in the shallow water with her little sister in her arms, too short to stand by herself with her head above the water. Tuk hung by her side, opting to play with the older girl's braids and scan each for the trinkets added.

"And this one?" She pointed to the end of one.

A carved wooden bead. Sersei smiled at the memory. "A spare piece of the trunk from Hometree—the one the Sky People destroyed."

"Why do you have it?"

She readjusted Tuk on her hip, observing her sister's face with the corners of her lips perked up. "It's better to remember what happened than to forget and ignore."

"I want hair like yours one day," Tuk imagined, sighing heavily.

"You can grow your hair out as you get older. If you'd like, I can braid it for you and find a few things to put in first."

"Really?"

"Mhm." Sersei nodded, stroking her back as the girl leaned forward and ducked her head to lay on her shoulder.

Ao'nung clicked using his mouth, calling the ilu forward with his arms spread out. He turned back to the four foreigners and gestured to the animals. "These are ilu—if you want to live here, you have to ride."

"I need to set you down, Tuk, are you okay with that?" Sersei asked the girl.

"Can I ride one?"

Sersei laughed and brushed a few of the girl's short braids out of her face. "You're very ambitious, Tuk Tuk, but it's best to wait a little. I don't want you to get hurt—maybe when I'm around to watch you, okay?"

Tuk sighed in disappointment, allowing the older girl to set her down and let her swim closer to the shore to observe.

Turning back forward after making sure her little sister was at a safe distance, Sersei's hands found their way together as she rubbed the flesh on each joint to alleviate her nerves. She remembered the feeling of experiencing something new—like when she first rode a direhorse or joining a hunting party for the first time.

The ilu weren't particularly scary. In fact, she thought they looked a bit cute.

"If you'd like, I can help you Lo'ak." Tsireya offered, batting her lashes unintentionally. The two twins shared a look when their younger brother grew flustered and began stuttering. "And, Rotxo," she turned to the boy, "you can help Neteyam, right?"

"Sure!" Rotxo beamed and waved the foreign boy over.

"And that leaves Sersei to Ao'nung." She turned away sharply and directed her attention to Lo'ak.

Before Sersei could protest, Ao'nung slid next to her and offered her that cocky smirk he always had. "So, forest girl, would you like to take a ride?"

Of course he didn't mean his dirty innuendo—Ao'nung didn't know if he even had the confidence to hit on the foreign girl. But his friends were snickering off to the side, hitting each other and pointing as if she couldn't see them. The boy's cheeks flushed as he scrambled to reverse what he said, almost making Sersei laugh.

It was funny how a boy as smug as Ao'nung could be stumped by his own words.

"Are you going to call one over, or..." Sersei cut off his poor attempts to excuse the misunderstanding, opting to move on and save him any more humiliation.

Ao'nung nodded rapidly. "Yeah, uh, sorry." One of the ilu swam around and nestled itself in the boy's hands. As he steadied it, he gestured to the girl with his hand held out. "If you want to hold on," he explained, "you can climb on now."

With a slight apprehension, Sersei pushed her body up and struggled to swing one of her legs over. Her hand slid into his as she repositioned herself, turning her head to the boy as she waited for her next instructions.

He softly gripped the queue of the ilu and held it up. "Make the bond—but don't startle her. Gently."

Sersei reached behind her back and pulled forward her queue, connecting it with the one held up. Her eyes fluttered shut, expecting to bond with the ilu as easily as she did with Yisi. Since moving to the mountains, it had been well over a year since she used any direhorse.

Something must have changed inside her—like a switch had flipped on.

The ilu thrashed under the boy's grip, pupils dilating as its eyes widened. Like it was trying to get away from her to break away from connecting with her mind.

She gasped and grabbed a hold of its neck to keep herself from falling off.

"Easy girl," Ao'nung soothed the ilu, stroking her head as his fingertips barely brushed her thigh in the midst. "She isn't supposed to react like that." He stated, oblivious to the way the girl's joy from earlier faded from her eyes.

Even his mother indirectly said she wasn't fit to be the Tsakarem—that she was different.

Something in her heart proved her suspicions right.

"I think she's okay now." Ao'nung looked back up with that boyish grin of his. And for a moment, Sersei believed she was the only thing in the world—because why else would he have looked at her like that? "Think what to do when you are ready- what are you doing with your legs?"

Sersei frowned and averted her gaze down. Her knees were squeezed around the curve of its fins, like she always had when she rode Yisi. "What is wrong?"

Soundlessly, he peered up at the girl asking for permission to move them herself. His hands hovered over her thighs, with a heat she could practically feel. Sersei slightly nodded, words caught in her throat by the intensity of his demeanor.

"Just sit, keep your legs loose." Ao'nung peeled them away from the base of its neck and kept his hands on her knees for a second longer.

"Why?" Sersei asked before she could stop herself.

"You'll see." Was all he said, then took her limp right hand until he stopped himself. "Which is your dominant hand?"

"Both." She answered. "I'm ambidextrous. Not sure if there's a word in Na'vi for it." The English rolled off her tongue in such a natural manner, the boy was curious how long she spent perfecting it.

It's the Sky People language, he tried to tell himself. A language spoken by the aliens and demons. But looking at Sersei, she didn't look like an alien, much less a demon. She looked intriguing—like she had a thousand things to say with all the love in her heart.

"What is that?"

"I can use both my hands." Sersei shrugged. "Doesn't matter which one, both are equally good—it's why I have two armbands. When I hunt, I don't use my right or left to shoot, it just happens with either."

Ao'nung hummed and grabbed the hand closest to him, which was her left. "Hold onto this." He wrapped her fist around the handle of the harness. "And go slow."

"Okay," Sersei nodded, adjusting her grip and thinning her lips in concentration. Go, she thought in her mind. The ilu jerked forward and swam down into the water with a great speed, almost instantly wiping her out as she soon lost grip on the harness.

The boy's friends laughed and pointed at her failure, which was quickly silenced with a glare from Ao'nung. Nobody dared to deny the Olo'eyktan's son.

Sersei swam up and coughed, wiping her eyes and wincing at the long, superficial cut along the outside of her forearm. "Oh fuck," she cursed, swinging a few of her messed up braids behind her shoulder to take a better look. She approached the shallow part of the deep water to walk on the pale sand.

Once catching a glimpse of red, Ao'nung rushed towards her. "Are you alright?" Before she could stop him, Ao'nung outstretched his hand to pull her arm softly in his direction to observe her injury, cut off by a zap of shock rushing through his body from her touch.

A boom of distant thunder shook the sky.

"Shit, are you okay?" Sersei scrambled to ask, sure to stay a safe distance away from physically touching him. "Sorry, that's never happened before." She frowned and peered down at her arm, swearing she saw a bright flash of blue when he pulled his hand away.

"Yeah, I'm fine-" He excused, then directed his attention back to her. "But are you okay? That looks bad—you should see my mother to get it healed-"

"No, um, it's fine." Anything to not see the Tsahik who called her a child and publicly humiliated her. "It looks worse than it is, it'll probably heal soon. I can have my sister help with it."

"But are you sure-?"

"Yes," Sersei almost chuckled at his worry, "I'm fine. I swear."

"Are you okay, Sersei?" Tuk called from the shore. Even from her perspective, the girl's knit brows were visible.

"I'm okay, Tuk! No need to worry!" Sersei assured, then turned back to the boy. "I think I'm gonna get out of the water. Thank you for your help, but I should clean this off before it gets worse."

"Of course!" Ao'nung said almost too enthusiastically from his nerves and pounding heart from her proximity. The boy looked up to the sky to hide his blush from her view and bit his lip. "I wonder where that came from,"

"Probably a storm." Sersei shrugged, though she knew it wasn't a storm. She learned the signs of a storm when she was younger to know when she should land on solid ground if she were ever flying.

"My mother says all storms happen for a reason." He observed, then brushed off his curiosity. "But I um- I hope you get that taken care of." Ao'nung almost kicked himself for acting so foolish.

The corners of her lips perked up. "Thanks," Sersei suppressed a smile of her own once she realized he was worried for her. Him, a boy who met her the same day, was worried for her and only her.

It was the most attention she got in the entire week.

Her thoughts ended with a longing gaze to the perfect blue sky—heart yearning at the calling she could feel as it pulled her to something greater. Something unexplainable. Something that made her body fill with a greater power with one question on her mind: why.

my fingers are so numb

—rory