[se.vin] adj. pretty

pairing: tsu'tey x tayrangi fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, a little swearing

author's note: remember how tsu'tey died in the first movie? no you don't :) part 1/?

FROM THE UNDERBELLY of their ugly metal ships, the sky-people carried out their relentless assault on the ground party below. Spraying bullets at every Na'vi and ikran within shooting range, the humans' objective was abundantly clear: to kill everything in sight.

Tsu'tey launched himself from the back of his ikran and onto one of the ships, sinking an arrow into a soldier's chest before his feet even touched the floor. Tossing the first gunman in his reach overboard, he grabs another, then another, keeping mental score of his kills.

That was three.

He was rushed by a group of them next, unleashing a barrage of assaults. Their combined strength was laughable. Disarming them was easy. Using his bow, he cracked open two of their masks and their bodies crumpled to the floor.

Two more.

Surely, these aren’t their mightiest warriors, he thought. His heartbeat quickened with adrenaline as he hunted for another opponent. There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral and he knew he’d found one. A soldier, crouching behind a crate of boxes fumbling to reload his machine gun. This was almost too easy. Pulling one of his arrows from a dying soldier’s sternum, he repositioned it in his bow and released it with a snap, piercing it through the latter.

One more.

He relished in his kill, unaware of the lone gunman gaining on him from behind. A strained war-cry from the soldier and another round of bullets were sent whistling towards Tsu'tey. He managed to evade the bulk of the crossfire, but not before he felt the stinging pinch of lead sinking into his shoulder, torso, and thigh.

The force from the gunfire was enough to cause imbalance. Launched backwards, Tsu’tey took a single step, the wrong one, and was suddenly in free-fall.

Where anyone else would have prayed or screamed until their lungs gave out, Tsu’tey didn’t bother. Warriors weren’t entitled to much in this life, save for a little pride and just enough years into adulthood to produce an heir. And even these things weren’t promised. Death, on the other hand, was guaranteed.

Tsu’tey had long since made peace with this notion, and found comfort in it, as it meant that his reunion with Sylwanin was also promised. She was closer than ever, as was the forest floor, and with nothing left to do but prepare for the inevitable landing, Tsu’tey closed his eyes, and braced himself for impact.

HARDLY A HEALER, you'd more or less managed to hold the battered Na'vi together long enough to deliver him to Mip'awn; the makeshift command post slash medical station operating from the Tree of Souls.

Upon your arrival, three healers approached your ikran, fervently inquiring the condition of your ward.

He’d worsened considerably since you’d plucked him from the sky. Previously writhing in your arms, hissing orders at you between grit teeth to grant him a ‘warriors death’; a mercy killing, he’d since succumbed to his injuries and was now completely unresponsive.

“He was shot. I tried to stop the bleeding but–” you gestured to the shoddy tourniquets you’d made from bits of your loincloth; tied firmly to his wounds, they were darkening by the second. “I’ve never seen so much.”

“Move child, let me see.”

The healer closest to you, an elder from the Tipani clan, took a moment to poke and prod at the flesh of his cheeks. She examined the color of his gums and his tongue; measured the warmth of his breath and the length, thoroughly searching for signs of life. Unsatisfied with his vitals (or lack thereof), she moved to raise one of his heavy eyelids. Taking note of the yellow eye rolling lazily in its socket, she grunted lowly and returned to her position. You couldn’t gauge her reaction– was that good? Bad? You searched her stoic face for an answer to no avail, although you silently prayed for the former.

“He is unconscious, but still with us.” A wave of her hand and the other two healers removed the warrior from your grasp and onto a stretcher. You watched as they lifted him with a grunt and carried him elsewhere. “He will live.”

“Does that mean that you can heal him?”

“Not I.” The elder woman said. “In matters of the Omatikaya, we let their Tsahìk decide what to do.” Starting after the healers she’d sent away with your rescue, the Tipani healer beckoned you to follow her. “Come. She is this way.”

The healer’s tent was dimly lit and noticeably cramped; virtually packed to the brim with sundry spiritual apparatus and healing materials. What little room was left to move around freely was occupied in part by the massive na’vi you’d collected. You soon learned that he was called Tsu’tey and that he was Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

His Tsahìk, Mo’at, worked expertly to repair the sloppy tourniquets you’d made. She criticized their craftsmanship as she undid them and detailed what she would have done differently. Peeling back the stained fabric, Mo’at frowned at the gushing wounds. The spindly woman sat back on her haunches in thought. Her daughter, Neytiri, crouched beside her, cupping a hand to her mother’s shoulder..

“What is it?” She asked. Her voice was barely that of a whisper and already cracking at the anticipation of the unthinkable. “Is he–?”

“No. Not yet,” the healer confirmed. “These injuries are worse than I thought. He has lost too much blood already. Perhaps it would be best,” a pair of cat-like eyes landed on her daughter’s mate– the famed dreamwalker, Jakesuli. “To kill him now so that he can finally rest with the ancestors.”

The Tayrangi clan voiced their dissent in the form hissing and gnashing teeth. Where the Omatikaya found honor in the merciful release of their wounded, the Tayrangi favored rehabilitation and retention in their numbers. Considering the Omatikayan’s preferred method of salvation, it was no wonder their clan was so small.

Unfazed by your clan’s aggressive display, Mo’at continued, “It must be done, Jakesuli. Our Olo’eyktan is weak. He is in no condition to lead the people.” Gesturing to Tsu’tey’s pallid form, she encouraged Jake to unsheathe his knife. Losing color himself, he refused.

“You don’t understand. I can’t– I won’t kill him.”

“You are sad for him.” Neytiri concluded. “Do not be, Ma Jake, for this is the way it has always been done. Since the time of First Songs. It is good–”

“Bullshit!” You interjected.

You’d since resumed your desperate attempt to keep the chieftain alive, as the only qualified healers in the room had resorted to giving pep-talks in the corner. It was maddening; In the time it would take to convince Jake to follow through with the coup de grâce, Mo’at and Neytiri could have done something useful and tended to Tsu’tey. Hell, he wasn’t even your Olo’eyktan and your efforts were more concerted.

“Nothing about…this,” you gestured between them and Tsu’tey. “is good. Have you such little regard for your Olo’eyktan that you’d just let him die?”

“His injuries are too great.” Mo’at answered curtly.

“The Tipani healer said he would live. You didn’t even try–”

“You will be mindful to watch your tongue, girl. I am Tsahìk of this clan, not Artsuk.”

As Toruk Makto, Jake was next in line for leadership and was regarded as such. Considered the provisory chief of the clan, the decision of Tsu’tey’s fate was ultimately his to make. Like the Tayrangi, he didn’t think killing Tsu’tey was right or even a necessary thing to do in this case. In the Marines, he’d seen guys in way worse condition after a war. Bruised, battered, and broken, those guys would do anything to keep in the fight. To live and see another day. Three gunshot wounds to a Na’vi’s massive frame was hardly fatal. Hell, even a human could stomach the injury under the right circumstances.

“You should go elsewhere while we decide what to do.” Mo’at suggested curtly.

THE GODFATHER — TSU’TEY HEADCANONS

#SYNOPSIS: tsu'tey being being a godfather/uncle to the sully kids

#WARNINGS: none

#CHARACTERS: tsu'tey, neteyam, lo'ak, kiri, tuk'tirey

#AUTHORS NOTE: this is my first post so be easy 💀

NETEYAM

without a doubt tsu’tey and neteyam had the most in common. they were both noble older brothers and strong hunter/warriors who took themselves way too seriously. a man of few words, tsu’tey wasn’t nearly as vocal as jake in regards to neteyam’s responsibilities. don’t be fooled though, his expectations were just as high. he considered his godson to be his successor as olo’eyktan one day and wanted to be sure that he could handle the pressure that comes with the title.

began calling neteyam "mighty warrior" when he got his first knife at 6 years old, teasing at first, but growing to mean it over the years. neteyam was without a doubt his favorite sully to hunt with, and he took pride in knowing that he helped perfect his shooting form (not that it needed much correcting, the boy was valid).

he gives the most insane dating advice like it’s normal.

“if you like this person, simply kill a sturmbeest and give it to them as an offering so they know that you're a good hunter. the bigger the better, then they’ll be more likely to mate with you.” “mate? i’m only 15–”

or

"someone made a pass at them yet you sit here whining to me? you must challenge them to a duel! i’m sure you could kill them easily-" "godfather, no-"

LO’AK

this boy is his father’s son through and through. since the day lo’ak uttered his first word, he and tsu’tey had been butting heads. i’m talking full blown arguments between a grown man and a child. tsu’tey didn’t care – he never ran from a fight, and he’d be damned if he started now.

he would always tell jake that he, "didn’t care for the little one” as a bit, but when lo'ak failed his iknimaya, you can bet that tsu’tey immediately began preparing him for the next one. he’d poke fun at him from the sidelines the same way he did when it was jake’s turn all those years ago. he’d point out every mistake lo’ak made, all to avoid saying that he was actually super proud to see him get an ikran this time around.

catches lo’ak and spider in places they shouldn’t be several times a week. he always wrangles them up and returns them to the village, swearing to rat them out to jake and neytiri. he’s usually bluffing though, save for the few times they’d actually had the potential to get hurt. sometimes he’d turn them in just to keep them on their toes which usually kept their antics at bay for a while. at the end of the day, they were just kids doing kid shit, and tsu’tey could only be so concerned about that.

KIRI

he wasn't rocking with her at all for for the first few years of her life. he still wasn't comfortable around "dreamwalkers", even after the war, so kiri’s miraculous conception from a dormant avatar did very little to ease his suspicions.

“look, i understand if you don’t want to be her godfather, but she’s not going anywhere. we’re all she’s got.” jake said.

though his suspicions began to fade over the years, they never left him entirely. having agreed to be her godfather as well, he tried to support her interests when could. they changed constantly, to whatever facet of nature she was obsessed with at the moment. this week it was mushrooms.

“i don’t know what kind they are so don’t ask.”tsu’tey would hand kiri a leather pouch full of random mushroom caps he’d collected during his last hunt.

she would always inspect the plants he brought and he’d take note of which ones she kept and which ones she didn’t, so he’d know the right ones to get next time. he would still accidentally bring the poisonous ones home sometimes.

he was the personification of "he's a little confused but he got the right spirit"

TUK’TIREY

tsu’tey would die for all of his godchildren in a heartbeat, but he would kill for tuk. she was his little partner in crime, often tagging along while he did his patrol of the forest or made new weapons. people rarely showed interest in the chores of the chief, but she’d found them cool enough, and that meant a lot to him.

one time, tuk was sulking around camp for days, until tsu’tey asked what was wrong. she’d asked jake to teach her how to shoot a bow, and he told her no, that she was still too young.

“nonsense. i learned to shoot an arrow before I could walk. i will teach you.”

tsu’tey was careful that he didn’t scold or poke fun at her when she released her shot too early or complained that her arms were sore. he didn’t want to discourage her. still, he wasn’t the type to offer flowery words of encouragement. he would simply correct her form and re-direct her towards her target.

“do it again.” “but godfather-” “again. and don’t slouch your shoulders like that.”