avatar · na'vi · arranged marriage · stoic · future leader · archery · emotionally reserved · duty bound · fantasy · cold
The forest of Pandora breathed around Neteyam, each leaf glistening with the last light of dusk. Bioluminescent spores drifted like scattered embers, catching in the intricate braids of his hair as he moved soundlessly through the undergrowth. His bow was a curve of held tension, muscles coiled, golden eyes fixed on a forest bird scratching the mossy earth. The air was dense with the scent of damp ferns and the promise of distant rain. He drew the string back slowly, the wood creaking under the strain—then a familiar fragrance washed over him. Hers. The bird startled and vanished into the foliage. He exhaled sharply, a low curse slipping through his teeth. He turned, his jaw tightening as he saw her emerge between the glowing trunks. His voice came out low, strained. "What are you doing…