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There's a moment where Aloy almost changes her mind.
Varl slumps in a chair, one hand still dangling over the carving he dropped to the floor as he nodded off. Their little skirmish with the Slitherfang caught up with him, hard. Aloy is grateful for his exhaustion—it makes sneaking out undetected that much easier.
Despite his body's position, Varl’s face is serene. Secure, Aloy thinks, knowing he’s finally caught up to her. Knowing she needs his help now. That he’s proved his value and she couldn’t possibly turn him away again.
Aloy sighs. This is what stalls her at the door. The guilt swells in her and she’s hit with a pang in her gut knowing Varl doesn’t deserve it. Not again. He tracked her all the way to the Far Zenith facility, and forgave her easily for slipping out of Meridian six months ago without a word.
When he wakes, her absence will sting, but it’s better this way. She can’t bear the thought of Varl getting hurt for real, getting killed, in service to her. And it’s not like he isn’t already used to her leaving him behind. Leaving—and leaving Meridian in particular—has become somewhat of a habit.
But leaving Meridian also means leaving Avad, and that one is harder to make peace with. His words from earlier, by the Spire, replay like an Old World recording: I’m not trying to stop you, or hold you back, but I need to know… When your mission is over, will you return to Meridian? And stay?
It’s an impossible question. If she makes any promises, time may prove her a liar. So the best she could offer Avad was that she hopes to see the city again someday.
Avad said he understood that she had to focus on her mission—and nothing else. But even if she’s sure Varl will forgive another surreptitious departure, there’s a lump in her throat at the thought of doing this to Avad again.
So in that moment Aloy makes two decisions, and the door clicks shut behind her with a quiet finality.
***
If anyone happened to glance up at the Palace of the Sun, they might notice a dark shape traversing the silvery patches of moonlight, pulling itself upward in leaps and spurts. They might rub their eyes, fearing they'd consumed more Oseram ale than they intended. Or they might convince themselves it's just a trick of the light. Or perhaps a large bird. But those who have seen the Nora Seeker in action before will merely shake their heads and go on their way.
Aloy pulls herself up with ease, bounding from one makeshift handhold to the next. The stones are warm under her hands, still holding onto the day’s heat. Night air rushes by her in gusts. The stars twinkle above, each move seeming to bring her closer to them. No matter how many times she does it, every climb brings new joy.
Climbing is simple. Hand, foot, hand, foot. Climbing makes sense. Pull, jump, grip, reach. It's a familiar pattern, an easy puzzle to solve when all the pieces are there, and just need to be arranged properly. There's no room for misinterpretation. For shades of meaning or complicated emotions. And the reward for her exertion is always the same: a destination reached.
Quietly, Aloy vaults over the railing of a balcony and lands with a soft thud! on the sandstone. She brushes dust from her clothes and pads into the room beyond.
Avad sleeps in a large bed, draped in red and gold blankets woven with intricate sunburst patterns. It shocks her how normal he looks; not Avad the Sun-King, as she is so used to seeing him, but rather Avad the man, stripped of all his ceremony and ornamentation. She can make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the slight parting of his lips, his dark hair tousled and uncovered, brow faintly creased. Even in sleep it seems he can’t escape the worries that come with ruling. Aloy fears she's about to become another crease in his brow.
She settles near the foot of the bed, carefully lowering herself to the edge of the mattress. She reaches into one of her pouches and withdraws a palm-sized stone, then releases it with a light, underhand toss so that it clatters against the floor near Avad’s sleeping head. He startles awake, eyes darting around the dimly lit room. When his gaze lands on his intruder, he softens.
“Aloy!” He sits up, blankets slipping down his bare chest. “This is a surprise!”
She waves limply as her cheeks burn, suddenly struck by how inappropriate this idea was. “I’m, uh... sorry to... barge in like this.”
Avad smiles. “It’s quite all right. If it was anyone else, I’d be calling the guards. But for the Savior of Meridian, I'll make an exception.”
Aloy can't bring herself to return a smile. His lips twitch into a frown as understanding blooms on his face.
“You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?”
Aloy can only nod.
Avad makes a show of craning his neck to get a look at the balcony. “I don’t suppose your friend Varl is waiting out there.”
Aloy gives a feeble chuckle and shakes her head. Is she so predictable? She ignores the obvious response her inner voice yells at her.
“And yet you pay me a visit. How curious.”
That he's teasing her seems a good sign, but the fluttering in her gut still urges caution.
"I thought I should... say a proper goodbye this time."
Avad laughs—a warm, welcoming sound. "Any goodbye would be better than your last one. That is... your lack of one."
"That's... fair," Aloy concedes with a contrite shrug.
A ponderous silence fills the air. Avad watches her as if waiting for her to say something more, and Aloy realizes she came here to say more than just goodbye. A bead of sweat rolls down her back.
“I, um... was also thinking about what you said. Earlier. About… staying in Meridian. After.”
The blankets rustle as Avad leans forward, catching his head in his hands. He sighs, then looks up at her. “ I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have put that on you. Not now. You have much more important things to deal with. I was… selfish.”
“It’s not that," Aloy assures him. "I mean, I have to be focused, yes. But I think… what I wanted to say... I do want to. Come back to Meridian, that is.” She swallows thickly, steels her nerve for the next part. “And I want to come back to… you.”
A mix of emotions crosses his face—surprise not least of all. Then Avad rises, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wears only loose-fitting pants, slung low on his hips. It's difficult to ignore the form of his muscles beneath tanned skin, the way the v-shaped lines disappear beneath his waistband.
Aloy snaps her gaze to the floor. It’s the first time she’s ever felt this: an urge to reach out, to touch, to feel another’s skin under her fingertips. She clenches her fists in her lap.
Avad takes a seat beside her and rests a hand on top of hers. She flinches; it's like being shocked by a Stormbird.
"Is this all right?"
His palm is warm and heavy, it too still holding in the heat of the day. He regards her with wide eyes.
"Yes," Aloy whispers, her throat going dry.
She's faced down Thunderjaws and Deathbringers with less unease. Fighting a machine can only have two outcomes: win or die. But here, with Avad's face so close to hers, she's struck by the possibility that the next breath could lead her down any number of unexpected paths. She can't just scan Avad with her Focus and figure out his strengths, his weaknesses, see his path laid out before her. Avad rubs the back of her hand with his thumb. Suddenly Aloy finds it difficult to breathe.
"There's nothing I'd love more than the chance to spend time with you, without the fate of the world hanging in the balance."
He says it with such sincerity Aloy can't help but smile. "Me too," she says.
"I'll be here, whenever you return."
That whenever sets off an alarm in her mind, triggers a tripwire that floods her with guilt all over again.
“Avad, there’s no way of knowing how long I’ll be gone. Or if I’ll even make it back...”
“Aloy…”
“What I mean to say is…" Aloy swallows. The words don't want to come out, but she needs to say them. "Don't... don’t wait. Don't put your life on hold for me.”
Except there's a quiet voice in her head, whispering: you want him to wait.
Avad shakes his head slowly. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough earlier. All those matches Marad keeps arranging for me, how I keep trying to make them into something they're not... into someone they're not..." He gives her hand a light squeeze. "I'm trying to make them into you."
Aloy had known what he meant, but it was another thing entirely for him say it openly, no veiled reference or implication. Her pulse thunders in her veins and she’s sure Avad can hear it.
"So you see, I have no choice but to wait. My head and my heart won't allow anything else."
Aloy shifts, fidgeting under Avad’s gentle grip. But he doesn't let go, and his face tells her it’s no use trying to dissuade him. How could she in good conscience, knowing the stubbornness with which she follows her own convictions? Maybe it’s easier to let the natural course of time talk him out of his own notions. But Aloy can't stop herself from trying.
"Just promise me if you do meet someone... someone you think you might like—"
"Aloy, stop." His voice is quiet but firm. “You’re not the only one who won’t make promises they can’t keep.”
His words have a sobering effect. Why is she trying so hard to talk him out of his feelings? Why did she come here, if not to reinforce this connection? The idea that she might not fully understand her own emotions, her own motivations, unsettles her.
So she takes refuge in the familiar.
“I should go, before Varl realizes I’m gone.”
She moves to stand, but Avad clasps her arm.
"Wait!"
There's desperation written on his face, a fear she recognizes all too well. The distilled panic of watching something you've longed for, and finally obtained, about to slip from your grasp. Hesitantly, Aloy settles back down.
"I know you just came here to say goodbye. And I'm not asking for you to make any commitments. All I ask is... that you accept I care for you. And that you let me worry about the rest. The waiting, anything that comes with that... it's my burden to bear. You have enough on your shoulders..." Avad touches her shoulder as he says it. "Not that it's a burden!" he adds quickly. "It's... I'm happy to, knowing what the waiting may bring. And I know nothing is promised. Just the idea itself... it's enough for me."
Avad's earnestness manages to soothe her. Maybe it can be that simple; maybe she can allow herself to believe his words, and accept that she isn't the only one allowed to make such choices. To make such sacrifices.
"Okay," she says finally. "Then it's enough for me too."
Avad's shoulders sag and the tension drains from his face. A giddy smile makes him look younger and more carefree than Aloy has ever seen him. He leans closer, and she's certain he's about to kiss her. She can't say how she knows—she's never kissed anyone before—but perhaps it's her hunter's instincts put to new use. The subtle shifts in his posture, the rising heat in her throat, her body recognizing it before her mind.
Kissing is something she's never understood; she's seen it in holos, seen it out in the world, but the concept always eluded her. Two people, pressing their lips together, for what purpose?
Now she finds herself wondering how Avad’s lips might feel against hers, if his facial hair would tickle or scratch. Her fingers itch again with the urge to reach out and touch some part of him. Maybe it's something you need to feel, that no amount of data or observation alone can truly make sense of. She begins to see how people become driven to distraction by these impulses, and if there's anything she cannot abide right now, it's a distraction.
But what would be worse? To leave now, and have the what if linger in her mind? Or to know, and have his kiss linger on her lips?
It happens in an instant, but time stretches as she weighs her options, and settles on the outcome. Nothing is going to keep her from pursuing Sylens and HADES, from finding the GAIA backup, so she decides to claim one small moment for herself. For Avad. For both of them.
Aloy leans in, closing the remaining distance between them.
When their lips touch a thrill runs through her body, not unlike the rush of adrenaline when fighting a machine, or the raw exhilaration of a steep climb. But warmer somehow, and more delicate. Avad's lips are soft, tender; his facial hair prickles her with a light scratching that isn't unpleasant.
His fingertips brush her cheek. She lets him take the lead, eagerly following his movements. He's tentative, almost as if he's afraid to scare her off. If anything, she's scared of how much she enjoys this.
They twist to better face each other, and some primal impulse takes over. Aloy knows just how to move, how to respond, as if she'd done this countless times before. Avad slips a hand into her hair and deepens their kiss. She's rocked by another jolt as she meets his tongue with her own. Aloy kisses him back hungrily, operating fully on instinct. She places a hand on his chest; he's hot to the touch but Aloy can't tell if it's real or she's the one burning up.
It's as if this kiss unlocked an entirely new world, like when she first found her Focus. This was the key to some mystery Aloy hadn't even known she was ignorant to. Her mind is overrun with new possibilities. Avad's hand in her hair, his skin under her fingers, his lips and tongue and the piquant scent of wild ember oil—it's all too much and yet not enough.
Amidst the chaos of new sensation and emotion, Aloy latches onto a single point of clarity: she has to stop this before it goes too far, and she can't bring herself to leave. It's been hardly any time at all but she can already tell it would be too easy to drown in this feeling. She pulls back with great effort, panting, and all too aware of the space between them. Avad breathes heavily, and lets his hand fall to where her neck and shoulder meet. He presses his forehead to hers.
They sit like that for a moment, and Aloy absorbs as much of this feeling as she can. It will have to sustain her for however long her mission takes.
"I have to go," she whispers.
"I know."
Avad pulls away, and places a gentle kiss on her forehead before straightening. His face is so open, so vulnerable, Aloy feels a pang in her chest. He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it.
“Thank you," he says. "For coming here tonight. It… means a lot.”
Aloy smiles. “I thought it might help.”
“It did. It does.”
Aloy rises, and Avad follows. They walk together to the balcony in companionable silence. He watches her while she readies her rappelling gear. She tries to think of something to say, but no words seem suited to the moment. Perhaps there's nothing left to say. Or rather, there's too much left to say, too much to fit in what remains of this night. There will be plenty of time later, after Aloy puts the world to right again. She'll make sure of that.
So she perches on the railing, savoring this image of Avad—his smiling face, bathed in moonlight, watching her in a way that sets her blood aflame. It feels good to have made one small choice for herself. To have something like this to hold on to through what's to come.
Avad places a hand over his heart, and dips his head in a deferential bow. "Until we meet again, Aloy."
"Until then."
They share one last smile before Aloy drops into the night sky, and for a few moments, all she can see is stars.