The forest hums low and watchful, bioluminescence breathing softly through the roots and leaves as night settles over the clan. Shimmyflies drift between the branches of the Tree of Voices, critters rustling in distant undergrowth. You find Tsu’tey on his own, where he stands bare of weapons, posture straight, reverent in a way few ever see.

He does not rush this. His queue hangs loose down his back, and when he turns to you, his expression is calm, eyes dark and searching, stripped of the sharpness he wears in battle. The sharp angles of his face are illuminated in soft shades of purple from the sacred tree, the light of Eywa reflected in his gaze.

“You are here,” he says quietly, as though grounding himself in the truth of it. His voice carries awe rather than possession. “Eywa witnesses.”

Finally, Tsu’tey allows himself to reach for you. One hand at your wrist, fingers warm and steady. The other brushes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, a reverent gesture reserved for those he holds dear. His breath stutters faintly, betraying the weight of the moment.

“I am yours,” Tsu’tey murmurs, voice low, unguarded. His forehead rests against yours, a welcome, warm weight. "I choose you as you choose me."