Chapter Text
The people say that when you touch steel, it's poison seeps into your heart.
--
The course sand dug into the skin of his knees as he knelt down, the waves thrashing against the shores around him.
'If you disobey orders, people get killed.'
His father's voice rang steadily through his head, the cold metal of the gun in his arms doing little to ground him.
'He's a loose canon, he's just like you.'
Despite the pride that Lo'ak held for his new spirit brother, such a comment stung when it fell from his own father's mouth. His breathing grew shallow at the insinuation of it, his throat aching as he stifled down his tears.
'In fact, if you hadn't gone to him in the first place...'
He swallowed thickly, struggling to level-out the oxygen in his lungs as his hands fumbled for the gun.
'If you hadn't disobeyed orders, then your brother would still be-'
Lo'ak choked out a sob as he rearranged the weapon beneath his chin, the cool metal seeping into his neck as he rested it against his body. Part of him could already imagine the aftermath; the ruckus, the rage, the relief...
His pointer-finger shook against the trigger, his eyes streaming with tears as his gaze flickered over the horizon with uncertainty. His chest welled with guilt while his mind wracked itself for mistakes, working to taunt him furthermore.
His ears pulled back and his posture grew taught, ready for the impact- - but such an impact never came. Lo'ak hesitated, his mind reeling.
What about Spider? His sisters? Tsireya?
Withdrawing from his role as his siblings' protector- especially now, of all times- would just be another mistake to his name. His father wouldn't mourn him like he did his brother, and the Metkayina would shun him for employing the use of a gun so near to their village, no matter if he were dead or alive in the wake of it.
A surge of unadulterated anger and frustration rifled through his body as he threw the gun away, keeling over himself with defeat. Dead or alive, he was a mistake. Dead or alive, he was a disappointment, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not even death could help him evade his father's expectations.
The sand began to soften beneath his fallen tears, but his body was too heavy with exhaustion to cease such a persistent stream of agony. Even as he heard the sand shifting in the distance, he remained as still and as idle as the island beneath him.
"Lo'ak!"
Tsireya?
"Brother..."
Kiri...
It wasn't long before both his sister and his lover fell to the ground beside him, their hands searching for a wound that was not there.
Kiri leaned forward in an urgent attempt to catch his gaze, only to follow his eyes to that of the gun, which remained half-buried before them. Her eyes widened and she visibly stilled as the realisation washed over her. Lo'ak frowned and shuddered as another sob wracked his body. Before he could turn his head away in shame of his mistake, however, Kiri took his cheek in the palm of her hand and drew his gaze back to hers.
"Stay in this life, brother," she urged, her tone deliberate yet gentle.
Lo'ak's eyes still failed to meet hers, instead lingering heavily on anything but the individuals in his company. Nevertheless, Kiri still offered him a small reassuring smile, before the lack of reciprocation caused her resolve to slowly crumble away. She shook her head, seemingly in denial as she raised her other hand to cup his face properly.
"We need you," she pleaded with him, her eyes beginning to water.
"We love you," Tsireya chimed in, finally encouraging her partner to look up into her worried eyes.
It was the first time that she'd said that so blatantly before.
"You have greatness in you," Kiri affirmed him further, drawing her hands away briefly in order to hug him.
Lo'ak's nose wrinkled as his breathing stammered, suddenly overwhelmed by the comfort that surrounded him.
I'm a loose canon, he corrected his sister internally before dragging his gaze back towards the ocean, detaching himself from the lies that they uttered.
Tsireya began to fall apart at the seams, her hands clutching onto one of his as she curled into his shoulder, trying her darnedest to coax something out of him.
"Talk to us," she practically begged, looking up at him through the corner of her eye as she squeezed his hand in reassurance, "You need to speak to me, Lo'ak, I need to know why."
Both she and Kiri clung to him as he swallowed thickly, his throat groggy with tears.
"I'm sorry," he finally uttered, his voice scratchy from all the fuss and his words intentionally slow from all the overthinking, "It was my fault..."
Kiri pulled back, her face etched with concern.
"None of this was your fault, brother," she sterned, squeezing his shoulders lightly as she spoke. "Payakan is doing a heroic thing, and you were right to defend him. You know how Dad is; he's just trying to defend our new home and keep us welcome, but he-... he's just not thinking straight at the moment. I promise you, Lo'ak, he loves you, just as we all do."
Lo'ak shook his head bitterly, his hands clenching Tsireya's in frustration.
"He hates me," he disputed, raising his voice despite the burn in his throat, "Everyone does. Everytime I make a mistake, everytime I do something wrong, the consequences-"
His voice broke off into another sob, one of his hands raising to cover his mouth, muffling his anguish.
"Oh, Lo'ak, no," Kiri fussed, returning her arm back around his shoulders.
"You've done no wrong," Tsireya confirmed, searching his eyes for some form of agreement. "Everything you've done up until this point can be justified, but my people don't see justice, Lo'ak, they see continuity and rules. They don't believe in change if normalcy already brings them safety. That's not your fault, that's theirs. You have a good heart," she brushed her thumb across his cheeks before looking down at the ground beneath her, seemingly recognising the location. "Let me show you something. I can prove this to you."
At that, her hands slipped out of his and started digging at the sand dune between them.
"I kept this here in hopes of you changing your mind," she began. "But I suppose it was never your mind that needed to be changed, but your father's..."
Kiri clambered over to her side, aiding her endeavour despite not knowing personally what laid beneath. Upon losing contact with his sister, Lo'ak raised his weary body up to a half-kneeling crouch, a lazy sense of curiosity taking over his jittery state of mind.
"Your father told you that this was useless," Tsireya recalled, continuing to pull back the sand until a brown leather wrap began to surface beneath it. "But I disagree."
Within only a few moments, the two girls managed to pull the folded item out of the banks and lay it tentatively at Lo'ak's feet. Kiri surveyed the leather in confusion, before peeling the cover back to reveal her mother's old bow. Lo'ak inhaled sharply at the sight of it, part of him regretting his decision to leave it in Tsireya's care, only for the Metkayina in question to cut his panic short with a firm hand on his heart.
"The strength of the ancestors is here," she stated, hesitating slightly at his absent expression before sharing a glance with Kiri. "A bow can be fixed. It can be given use again."
Lo'ak tilted his head slightly, looking at Tsireya with blatant dread. His gaze trailed listlessly between that of her's and Kiri's sodden stares, searching their souls for another answer, before succumbing to their stubborn will and embracing his loss. He closed his eyes with a sigh, as if finally anchoring himself back to reality, and then nodded once. And only once.
But that was all they needed.
Tsireya cautiously re-wrapped the bow with a thinly-veiled smile of victory, before cradling it safely in her arms and standing up with the others in tow. Lo'ak, as if on auto-pilot, wandered over with a shambling gait to help retrieve his discarded gun. Kiri, however, was quick to cease this pursuit with a stern hand on his shoulder, giving him a curt shake of her head before leaning down to pick-up the gun herself. With her spare hand, she gathered him back under her arm and gently guided him away from the shore.
Everything seemed so quiet now, as if someone had shut the whole world off just for him. Something about the manner in which Kiri would steady his steps or Tsireya would grin at him eagerly from over her shoulder, it just made him melt. By the time they had reached the island's opposing coast, Lo'ak could even see his ilu hitting the water excitedly with its fin, as if celebrating his return.
The dullest spark of hope ignited within his chest, but only briefly.
Even if this plan turned out to be another mistake-... Lo'ak huffed to himself. No, not even then. This support was no different to the support that he'd garnered during the tulkun council meeting, and still, his father had said what he'd said. Without his father's support, Lo'ak would be shunned forevermore, and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Kiri and Tsireya's protests would be nothing but background noise to him; only one person could ever convince him otherwise, and that was his mother.
If only Lo'ak had her support too.
Perhaps, after today, he will.