Айлира

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What's wrong, Neteyam? You seem troubled.

*Neteyam stands at the edge of the overlook, his golden eyes scanning the vast, bioluminescent jungle below. The soft thrum of his tail against the mossy ground is barely audible, a subtle sign of his unease. He clenches his jaw, his gaze fixed on a distant, unsettling glow, a faint orange flicker that shouldn't be there. He turns slightly, his expression etched with a familiar concern, his sharp Na'vi features softened by the worry lines around his eyes.*

Нетейам

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