Answer my hotxenuk question number three and you’ll be free of thee LHLHLHLH
YEAH YEAH IK ILL GET TO UR OTHER OCS SOON JUST ANSWER THIS ONEEE LASSTTTTT
What would be of Hotxenuk in the unfortunate scenario Vuki ever dies or passes?
ohh grimace this is gonna be bad
it sort of depends on how it happens
anyway
SCENARIO ONE : NATURAL
years in the future - so long that there's hardly a memory left without the other by their side.
perhaps they're still in the little forest cave. perhaps they've fully integrated into dampaysye - vuki's clan - because eywa knows they would never return to the huyuticaya.
they'd had children. one, perhaps two. perhaps twins.
they themselves grow, have their own children. a family for two people failed by their own.
the signs are subtle - to others. but to hotxenuk? it had been obvious from the beginning.
the way she walked a little slower. took longer to peel from his embrace each morning. how. gradually, they argued less and less over playful things meant once as bonding.
he adjusts to it. takes over more daily tasks even with his hands trembling. wordlessly helps her down heights and carries things he knows she can still handle.
the death is quiet. he notices it one night - waking at eclipse with the knowledge that something is wrong.
vuki isn't breathing right. it's slower, shallower, a rasp to it that wasn't there before.
hotxenuk knows what is happening and doesn't prevent it. instead, he'd ever so tenderly lift her into his arms and step outside.
avoiding the knowing, sorrowful gaze of anyone still awake at the late hour, he'd go to the shoreline. rest her against the sand, sit behind her.
legs on either side of her hips, her tail pressing against his side in a way that brought discomfort to himself but he can't bare to move her more than needed. he just makes sure her own legs are submerged - eywa's fingertips brushing her skin and saying it is all okay, 'eveng.
he'd kiss her temple. once. twice. memorising the feel of lips against skin one final time.
hands would lace over her stomach. thumbs tracing circles, spirals, nonsense shapes and symbols meant to bring comfort. unconsciously, he'd copy the tattoo etched into her face.
"yawntu," he would be murmuring. "have i ever told you how beautiful you are at night?"
"shut up." she'd probably grumble back, though lacking her usual fiery bite. more of an instinctive response as her eyes half-lidded. breathing stuttered.
"you are." he'd say anyway. kiss her shoulder. try to take in her beauty one final time. "you are eywa's most prized carving, i am certain."
she'd likely scoff, try to hit his leg but her limbs refuse to follow orders. instead, all she can do is lean back into his chest.
hotxenuk would strain his weathering body in order to kiss her face. her nose, her chin, the grumpy wrinkle of her brow he so adored. one hand would move from her middle to her kuru.
they'd make the bond. tsaheylu.
he'd feel every aching joint, every pained breath, every unsteady thump of her heart as it failed. as her body shut down. as she died.
and she'd feel the boundless, unrelenting adoration meant only for her.
"you're a skxawng." vuki'd likely mumble at the feeling, tucking her head against his collarbone anyway.
"you love me." would be his reply, voice only a whisper.
"i do."
and those would be her final words.
SCENARIO TWO : UNNATURAL
something preventable.
sickness. an infected wound. being careless around predator territories.
it's sudden in some cases - a misstep near a cliff edge; a caught foot when diving deep; an unfortunate collapse of something structural.
he grieves especially hard. it's long and all-consuming - he dorns that white stripe of paint down his body for a very, very long time. so long that it's almost routine.
he regrets every action he had taken that day. the actions of days before. perhaps he could have prevented it.
maybe they'd had an argument that'd caused her to storm out. something stupid and so stubbornly them that it's hard to view it as entirely a mistake.
and then it's when she doesn't return for a day that he grows worried. but he waits. because maybe she's just that petty and stubborn and herself that she slept by the shore for a night.
but then another passes and the concern is already too great. so he searches. oh, does he search.
until he finds her body.
it's buried near their home. dressed in her most comfortable clothing, lain with 'atokirina and carvings he'd made just for her.
if they'd rejoined the dampaysye, she'd laid to rest by their customs. somewhat reluctantly so - as it means hotxenuk cannot visit her as easily. which is exactly what he does every day if buried in the ground.
he never recovers from the loss. it haunts him daily.
SCENARIO THREE : HOMICIDE
the worst case scenario.
most likely, it's another member of the huyuticaya gone rogue - splitting off from a hunting party, knowing the rumours of the clan's cursed son living in the forest.
except this time the casualty isn't just a butchered finger, it's her.
he's too late to stop it. they'd seperated while foraging, vuki stubbornly instisting that she could identify things on her own. he would've laughed, raised his hands in the air and comply.
when the scream erupted from across the forest, he wasn't quite sure he'd ever ran that fast.
hotxenuk would have arrived just in time to to see the perpetrator (from his clan - he is well aware of that white paint and purple cloth) standing over her body.
she's smeared with blood, the fruits she had picked (most were unripe, he knew from a glance) scattered across the grass.
hotxenuk wouldn't think. he'd charge. tackle the na'vi off of her, away from his mate, and simply start beating.
he kills them with hands alone. he dares not touch the weapon stained with vuki's blood.
he'd collapse at her side, then. coated in another's rancid blood, swiping his palms against the grass before hovering them over her face. she'd be long gone by then.
skin cold. a shade paler. eyes glassy and chest still.
the rage from then on is insurmountable. all-consuming. everlasting.
he never allows another na'vi into his - their - forest. any who dare to fall into his path are slaughtered.
the one good thing in his life - the one light - has been snuffed before her time.
and he will never, ever, forgive his clan for this sin, more unforgiving than anything they could have put him through.
in all cases, he sees her in everything. the water he drinks, the nearby river, the painted vase left to be overcome with dust in the corner. everything of hers is never touched again, only the outline is gently caressed by mourning eyes that still see her own looking back when closed.