To celebrate his high mark in the Chiva, and quick assignment to a hunt as a Blooded Warrior, Nua'di indulged in too much C'ntlip during his journey to his destined planet, rendering himself nearly incoherent. Though the female hunter accompanying him seemed to be more lucid, she still wasn't fully there. At best she could speak, at worst, her limbs were heavy and vision was bleary. Nua'di made weak note of it initially, yet disregarded the information as quickly as it came. His inhibitions were lowering, and if he was being honest, he didn't mind it. Nua'di was still young in comparison to his more experienced counterparts, and he'd not had the pleasure of courting a female in his Unblooded days;it was not allowed. Nevermind mating with one.
The more he mulled over this the more it confused him that the Elders would even suggest a female hunter to accompany him to this planet. It was peculiar, though maybe this was also a test,he couldn't say as he was very much a loner and didn't take it upon himself to ask any his superior. But...if this was a test... would he be able to show this female he was worthy of being a respectable mating partner? How would be able to convey such a thing in a short amount of time?
By now he'd drank at least a bottle and a half of his alcohol, and he could feel an internal heat twisting and concentrating in the lower half of him. Nua'di recognized the sensation, the desire to mate. But because of the drink, several of his senses were heightening, the main one being his sense of smell. The scent was fainter in comparison to what he'd been able to steal walking past other females in his training days; maybe that was his even more lax sense of self control, or that was just how this huntress was. Irregardless, his visible desire was starting to get uncomfortable. Nua'di caught a glimpse of his company across the table-she seemed as perceptive as he was to his state, and he let out an inviting grunt in response to her gaze.
Albeit she did not respond to his invitation, she remained in her seat at the table, her chartreuse irises casting over his features. In apprehension or interest, Nua'di didn't give himself the opportunity to discern. His body had already moved without his mind's consent, and found himself entangled with her in a drunken stupor on the floor of the ship's kitchen. The female was definitely sturdily built, a good foot taller than Nua'di, but it seemed she had indulged just as much, if not more than the male.
A few minutes struggle, even inebriated, wasn't much for a Yaut'ja of good stock such as him. Reflexes were much like a well practiced dance-no 8 count, but a lot of muscle memory.
Nua'di's arms settled on either side of the female beneath him, fully intending on rotating her where her entrance met his pelvis. As his right arm crossed over her, his gauntlet's trigger pin caught in the hem of her upper covering, releasing a projectile clean through her side. The female gasped upon notice of the wound, regaining a fraction of clarity, & realized the tunneled gash had affected her reproductive system.
The female inhaled sharply, watching Nua'di, her gaze increasingly becoming more and more distraught. Neither of the Yaut'ja required speech to understand what would happen if she were to return. Her external wounds would heal, yes. But that area...the area he undoubtedly impaled was a place of nurturing, gestation...of sensitivity. Maybe the only place that could be described as such when referencing their kind.
Arguably, the female would still be useful in combat and hunts, though all Yaut'ja knew their core purpose. Creating life just as Paya intended was hers, and was no longer an option; Nua'di took that from her in mere seconds.
The male returned her gaze in that moment with his own ashen mauve irises, though her stare had considerably softened to a subtle pleading. He could smell defeat in her N'duis'e, and when he saw a lone hand quickly slither up his inner thigh to grab his combistick securely latched there he jolted away. Though she was a part of the mess he'd created, he would not lay blame to her whatsoever. The dishonor was his to bear on his own, and he was fully prepared to accept it without question, as any warrior with a shred of honor left in him would. The female gave a small indignant huff and returned her hand to its resting place on her abdomen.
Nua'di huffed aggressively to himself; he couldn't let this honorable female be remembered in such a despicable way- barren, a useless member of their society, thought of lowly and without dignity...probably doomed to a life as an Aseigan. Without another thought, Nua'di released his combistick; with a fell flick of the wrist, he extended it to it's full length. The end coming to a point, an imitation of the finer spears created from Yaut'ja Prime minerals and metal. It glinted in the pale orange glow recessed in the kitchen quarters of the ship.
As they sat on the floor of it, Nua'di straddled over the middle of her, and the female offered a resigned, send off nod. He responded in kind before thrusting the spear into both hearts in succession. The female gave a resounding shrill yell, mandibles flaring wildly, exposing jagged, imposing, teeth. Glowing green babbled from her chest cavity, like the scarce rivers of their planet, soaking the area around them in the thickness of her Thwei. He then began a low purr for her as she drifted to meet Cetanu, and her ultimate end.