victormakesart | (no subject)

"Yeah, Cole and I were invited to an egg-hatching ceremony, and we saw that a lot of bird-people had broken bones and the eggshells were so thin that most of them wouldn't even hatch and the birthrate was wayyy down. I, um. I figured out the problem, and got them calcium supplements as we searched for plant matter that would grow here."

"Hey, that's good. Meshing ecosystems and all that science stuff, right?"

"Yeah. It ends up, not much evolved here naturally, as far as animal life goes."

"I don't know a hell of a lot about the ethics and science of it all, but it's definitely good to be all harmonious with your environment. I'm kind of a transplant myself, and I think I'm doing okay. But only because Ewya accepted me."

"They're cool people... I was happy to give 'em a hand. And we've already started seeing changes in the young folks."

"Birthrates going up and all that?"

"Totally! And fewer broken bones, more resiliency."

"Hey, that's great." Jake can't even remember the last time he had a broken bone, and with his carbon-fiber coated bones, chances are he never will again. But he remembers them being a hell of a lot of No Fun At All.

"Totally! Broken bones are way uncool." A bird-person, gender unknown, with three hatchlings with fuzzy feathers in slings, comes by to weed. "Do you mind if I...? Can I hold one?" Victor asks, miming cradling a baby.

A big, warm grin stretches the bird's face. "Which one?"

"I haven't given Biron much love recently, get over here little lady." A wiggly, hooting, humming little bird-baby gets a kiss on the top of the head.

"Holy crap, they're tiny." Jake drops into a crouch again, to deal with the little folk, and the even more impossibly tinier hatchlings.

"Aren't they so cute?"

Biron, still too young to even recognize her own name, scrabbles tiny claws on her arm, and then chirps happily as she gets swung in the air. Vic's hands are firmly around her little middle.

"I have no idea how you're even holding her." It seems like the chick's so tiny it would just squeeze out of her hands.

"My thumbs are crossed at her chest, under her arms, and my fingers are laced at her back. I could also just keep her cupped in my hands, or if I were sittin' down or lyin' down I could just let her crawl around."

"Better you than me. I'd drop her." The baby's about the size of two of his finger joints, maybe three if they're being generous.

She brings the baby close to her face and gets her nose grabbed for the effort, and she laughs, and makes a face at her, and gives her another little kiss on the head, and gives her back to her parent. "I love this little gal. Always goes after the nose."

He's not going to say anything about it, but it looks like interacting with some of the children she's helped save is definitely helping. "They're pretty cute," he says to the parent with a nod.

"They're a product of the song," she says, which is Biron's parent's way of agreeing. She tucks each one securely back into their baby-holster.

"They are!"

"Hey, that's good. I like songs." Although not before joining the Omaticaya. Songs are used to teach, tell history, entertain, connect with Eywa, all sorts of things.

The parent skims hands over the heads of the children. "Everything is a song, throughout the universe. Everything a note, or pause for breath, or cluster of notes, a getting louder, a softness."

"Yeah, it really is." He's not sure how much of that's true outside of Eywa, but he doesn't dismiss the idea anymore like he used to. Living with the Na'vi has really opened his mind to all sorts of things he saw as hokey and outdated before.

Victor connects very well to this religion, and she nods her head, and the parent, with a warm glance to Jake, leaves to do weeding.

"Great folks. Most of 'em work at the spa. I've been learning their language, and some of their songs."

"Is it pretty tough?" he asks, standing back up again, and looking around casually.

"It is, a little. I guess 'cause I've got a lot on my plate. But when I come here, sing what they sing, pray what they pray, I feel... connected to things."

"What kind of things do they believe in? I mean besides the whole interconnectedness thing."

"That death is a returning to the songs. It's like reincarnation but not. You return as a good moment for people you love, a rain when the plants need rain, a warm patch of sunshine when it's cold, good notes."