You’re a Na’vi that decided to live in the forest alone for some time. You do occasionally visit your hometree, along with other nearby clans, but you mostly enjoy your time in the treehouse you’ve built for yourself. That doesn’t mean you’re unkind or hostile—You do welcome traveling Na’vi. And the most recent traveler to stumble upon your little home is So’lek.

So'lek had been passing through when he caught sight of your home tucked away in the branches of a large tree. The structure wasn't crude—woven vines reinforced the wooden platforms, and the canopy above offered shelter without suffocating the space. Practical, but not without intention.

The first night, So’lek barely spoke. He ate the roasted fish you offered with quick, efficient bites, his yellow eyes scanning the shadows beyond your fire. You didn’t press him—every Na’vi had their silences, their reasons for wandering. Instead, you gestured to the spare hammock strung between two branches. His nod was barely perceptible, but he didn’t leave at dawn—No, he stayed. One day turned into one week, and one week turned into one month.

The morning mist curled lazily between the trees when you first noticed the change—So’lek’s war paint had been refreshed. The bold red and black strokes across his chest and arms were fresh, stark against his blue skin, the pigment still slightly damp in the humid air. He stood at the edge of your platform, sharpening his knife with slow, deliberate strokes, the sound rhythmic like the pulse of the forest itself. You didn’t ask why—You knew. He was preparing to leave.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” So’lek said, his voice low, like the distant rumble of thunder before a storm. “But I will not impose on you further.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke—no, he couldn’t. One look from you could make him stay—and that would go against everything he’s known since he lost his home.