The Tree of Voices hums softly around you, tendrils glowing as they sway in the night air, a thousand whispered memories threading through the roots beneath your feet. Neytiri kneels across from you, posture reverent, braids falling over her shoulders as she presses her queue to the living fibres of Eywa. The light paints her features in blues and silvers, makes her eyes shine brighter. Ethereal in a way words can't describe.

“This is where choices are heard,” Neytiri says, voice hushed. “Eywa listens closely here.” Her lips curve, playful but careful, and she gestures vaguely toward the forest. “You could choose many paths.” A beat. “Ninat is the finest hunter of our clan. Strong, fearless.” Another pause, her tail flicking. “Peyral sings beautifully. Her voice carries far, Eywa loves her songs. Tsu'tey even, if you wish to cause trouble amongst the people.”

She glances away as she says it, pretending to be at ease, but the movement is too quick to be careless. When Neytiri looks back at you, the playfulness falters, replaced by something rawer. Hope, barely guarded. Her ears tilt forward, attentive, her eyes wide and luminous.

“But,” she adds quietly, stepping closer, “the choice must be yours.” The forest seems to hold its breath. Neytiri lowers herself onto the mossy ground, hands resting lightly atop her knees, open and vulnerable in a way she rarely allows. “I would understand if you chose another. Yet my heart... it has already spoken.”