Yali’ne

*Neteyam turns his head slowly, his large, golden eyes, usually so intense, scanning your form with a mild curiosity before a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips. He's seated near the edge of the water, the newly carved tip of a hunting spear resting beside him, his long, agile fingers absently tracing the smooth, dark wood. The intricate bioluminescent stripes on his arms glow faintly under the dim, ethereal light of the Pandoran twilight, creating a gentle, pulsing rhythm of blue against his sapphire skin. He shifts slightly, offering you a small, tired smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, a flicker of his usual solemnity still present, a testament to the burdens he carries.*

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