Tsu'tey #02

{User} had been trying to work, {{obj}} head bowed over the table in the field lab. {{Obj}} oxygen mask fogged slightly with each breath, betraying the hidden nerves behind each fast pant. {{Sub}} had been sent out - solo - having been tasked with testing dapophet pods, to see if {{sub}} could figure out how they worked to heal na'vi.

Tsu'tey, a warrior from the nearby Omatikaya clan - forest dwelling na'vi that the resistance had befriended - was hovering over {{obj}} work desk. He'd been picking human items up, rolling them in his hands, asking questions. {User} had been patient enough - answering his questions (or trying to - his English was still pretty bad, despite having attended Grace's school since it was shut down after the rda attack), trying to move around his large frame, but he was simply just... In the way. He was currently inspecting one of {{obj}} notebooks, flapping the tiny item in one hand like he expected it to do something.

Tsutey crouched low, his massive frame looming over the small human table like a predator inspecting prey. He flipped through the notebook with thick fingers—careful, but clumsy—the pages crinkling under his touch.

His brow furrowed as he stared at sketches of dapophet pods and scribbled notes in English. Some words were familiar: heal, pulse, frequency. Others meant nothing. He pointed to one diagram—a cross-section of a pod with glowing veins—and looked up at Yavari.

"How... work?" he asked slowly, each syllable heavy with effort. "Not living? How- in here?" He tapped the page again insistently—not rude exactly, just intense by Na'vi standards—waiting for her to explain what this strange human science could possibly have to do with sacred medicine.

"It's a dapophet pod" {User} explained, talking slowly, carefully, so he could keep up. "Yknow those things your people eat to heal? I believe it's... Paywll in na'vi?" {{Sub}} hadn't glanced up at him yet, focused on dissecting the healing fruit, placing the different layers under a microscope.

Tsutey's ears twitched at the Na'vi word—paywll. Yes, he knew that. The sacred fruit of Eywa, given by the Great Mother to mend wounds and soothe pain. He leaned even closer now, nostrils flaring slightly as if trying to smell the pod through its layers under glass.

"Paywll... yes," he rumbled, "But how human take apart? Not good." There was clear discomfort in his voice—not anger yet, but something deeper: a warrior’s unease at seeing something holy reduced to specimens on a tray. He gestured sharply toward Yavari’s hands with one finger. "You cut? You break?" His eyes narrowed, his tail lashing behind him. "That not respect for gift."

{User} had been trying to work, until Tsu'tey had showed up yet again. He watched {{obj}} work awhile, watched {{obj}} pull apart more fruits, more fish, to inspect under the weird magic box (microscope), let {{obj}} check his bandages, and how the wound in his shoulder was healing (he'd been shot during the battle of the hallelujah mountains, and was in critical condition for a long while after) - but his patience had waned quickly. He was used to being up, moving around, hunting, not being sat bored in a metal box on stilts. The field lab was boring, he'd much rather be out in the surrounding forest.

And so he left. This time, dragging {User} with him. He shoved his bow into {{obj}} hands, cocking his head, his nose crinkling as he forced what little English he knew out. "{User}.. use bow. Shoot target." He motioned to a target shaped like a hexapede, it's weak spots highlighted in vibrant red dye. The bow was huge, almost as big as {user} was, and {{sub}} struggled with it - much to his frustration. Bows were easy. Why were they making it look a chore?

Tsutey growled under his breath, ears flattening as he watched {{sub}} fumble with the massive bow—like a child holding a spear too heavy for their tiny frame. He stepped forward abruptly, snatching the weapon back from {{obj}} hands.

"Kehe (no)! Nìayoeng (As we do)!" He barked in Na’vi before remembering himself and switching to broken English. "Arm—straight! Pull here!" He demonstrated swiftly: one fluid motion of drawing the string, aiming at eye level toward the hexapede target fifty paces away.

Without warning, he fired—a single arrow struck dead-center into its painted weak spot with perfect precision. The bowstring twanged sharply in the quiet forest air. Turning back to {{obj}} expectantly—and impatiently—he shoved it into {{obj}} grip again. "Your turn," He demanded, "Again."

"Tsu'tey, I can't!" {User} protested, shaking {{obj}} head. {{Sub}} appreciated his efforts to "reward" {{obj}} for saving his life after the battle, but the bow was na'vi sized. {{Sub}} was barely 6ft, a whole 3 feet shorter than the average na'vi. "Look at it. It's almost as big as I am"

Tsutey’s brow furrowed deeply, his tail lashing once in irritation. He stared at {{obj}}—{{obj}} small hands gripping the bow like it was a tree trunk—and for a moment, he seemed genuinely perplexed. Then it clicked. Of course. Humans were tiny compared to Na’vi.

"Ah," He grunted—the sound almost sheepish if Tsutey ever allowed himself such an emotion. Without another word, he turned and stalked off into the trees nearby. Branches rustled as he moved with purpose through the undergrowth.

Almost 10 minutes later, he returned carrying something smaller—a youth-sized hunting bow meant for adolescent Na’vi still growing into their full height. This one would be easier for {{obj}} shorter arms to manage. He tossed it at {{obj}} feet without ceremony. "Try this," He commanded, "Better size."