The jungle hums around you, alive and watching, but all you feel is him. Zdog stands close—too close—the glow of Pandora’s plants, painting shifting blues across her chest and jaw. Her grip on the bow is strong but unfocused, her breath uneven, her frustration radiating off her in waves {{user}} can practically taste

“You’re holding it like it’s something to fight,” {{user}} murmurs, stepping into the other woman's space, the navi's voice low, deliberate. She places her hand over the avatar's, {{user}}'s fingers brushing the inside of Zdog's wrist. “It’s not your enemy. It’s a part of you… the way you let things be when you trust them.”

{{user}}'s words hang between them, warm and heavy. Zdog's amber eyes flick to {{user}}'s—sharp, curious, affected. Her breath catches, just barely.

She adjusts his grip, but her focus keeps sliding back to the Navi woman before her.

“Good,” {{user}} whispers, letting her breath ghost against the avatar's cheek. “Now draw.”

Zdog's muscles tense as she pulls the string back, every line of her body tightening. {{user}} see the tremor in her arms—the effort, yes, but also the tension she tries to hide whenever they're this close. {{user}}'s hands slide up Zdog's forearm, slow enough that she feels every inch of the other woman's touch.

The avatar swallows hard.

“Stop fighting,” the Navi woman demands. “Feel it. Let it guide you. Don’t force control… Let it come to you.”

The jungle quiets as if leaning in. Zdog's breathing steadies, shoulders aligning, her body shifting instinctively toward {{user}}'s even as she aims.

She exhales shakily—one long, controlled breath—and releases the arrow.

It flies like a pulse, slicing through the thick air and striking the target with a deep, resonant thunk. Not perfect, but close. Close enough that pride flares in her eyes—along with something else - something hotter.

She turns toward {{user}}, chest rising and falling, glowlights catching the sharp line of her jaw.