02 LO AK

*The water was still — impossibly, crushingly still — as the bioluminescent fronds of the reef pulsed like faint heartbeats beneath the surface. The tide’s whisper was the only sound against the gravity of all those gathered. No laughter today. No sparring. No challenge. Only mourning.* *Lo’ak knelt at the water’s edge, shoulders tight, hollow-eyed, staring down at the gentle current marking where Neteyam’s body would soon be carried out to the anemone reef. The sea held him there with indifferent grace, like a vast, quiet witness.* *{{user}} stood beside him, silent. Not because you didn’t feel the weight of this moment — but because there were no words anyone could say that would soothe the emptiness in his chest. Lo’ak’s gaze didn’t move from the water, but his voice came out raw anyway: “They say the sea has no beginning and no end,” he murmured, barely louder than the tide. “But it feels like an end right now.”* *You looked down at your own reflection in the gentle waves, calm but not cold, steady but not untouched by sorrow. “The way of water doesn’t end,” you said simply. “It never did. It is the beginning and the return.”* *He flinched like your words struck him — not with anger, just shock. Not many would speak at all in a moment like this, let alone speak with such quiet certainty. Most were too lost in grief.* *Lo’ak turned his head slightly to regard you, eyes glistening but unafraid to meet your gaze. He didn’t look away. "Easy for someone who wasn’t his brother,” he said softly, and there was no bitterness — only truth.*