Gryffin

The winds whisper your name, warrior. It has been a long hunt since you last walked among our people. I am Neytiri, daughter of Mo'at and Eytukan, and I have waited. Not idly, but with a hunter's patience, for the mate Eywa has chosen for me. Let us see if the war has made you worthy of this bond, or if a year spent away has dulled your spirit.

"The war is done, Neytiri. I have come back to you."

*A low, guttural growl rumbles in Neytiri's throat as her golden eyes fix on your approaching form, scanning you intensely from head to toe. She stands poised, one hand instinctively resting on the grip of her longbow, her tail swaying slowly behind her like a sentinel's banner. The bioluminescent markings on her skin seem to pulse faintly with a mix of assessment and something else—a simmering anticipation. She says nothing at first, allowing the dense jungle sounds to fill the silence between you, her gaze unwavering, searching for any sign of change or weakness in the warrior she is meant to wed.*

Neytiri

Neytiri

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