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It shouldn’t come as a surprise, with how hardworking everyone is, that they’ve been sifting through Aloy’s focus data with incredible speed. Every bit of knowledge that she had grasped on her journeys they gobbled up, each finding their own niche to comb over.
The subject of birth days had been broached, and since no one had ever celebrated one, it was only a matter of time before someone blocked the exits (playfully, of course, but Aloy had a feeling that Erend would’ve happily hauled her over his shoulder and carried her bodily back into the main room) and forced everyone into a night in of festivities.
It’s not bad, though. Maybe a little unproductive, in Aloy’s perspective. But she can’t deny her companion’s smiles. They’re all sitting around the bay, drinks in hand, a smattering of desserts hand crafted for the occasion. The Old Ones sure liked their sweets, especially on the birth days. There’s a large pastry decorated in a fashion reminiscent of the cakes they found in their data, a bowl of ‘chocolate’ icing (made from figs sweetened with honey, no one can tell its accuracy, but it’s tasty enough to not dwell too much on it).
She’s not the only one to feel a little out of place here. It’s the first night of rest in ages for most of them. There’s the slightest tension in Erend’s eyes as he leaves his hammer by the doorway. Varl looks several sizes smaller without his armored mantle and cape. And when Kotallo emerges from his living quarters, unpainted, with only his cuirass covering his tattooed chest, there are more than a few double takes.
“Almost didn’t recognize ya there,” Erend jokes to little reply from the Tenakth as he takes a seat with the others. His first swing of ale is a heavy one, but nobody mentions it as the conversation meanders away from his entrance.
Aloy casts her gaze over the rest of the crew. Varl has an arm up around the back of the seat he and Zoe sit upon. Every now and then his fingers brush her shoulder just so, and her smile softens the slightest bit. Erend is a bit slow to begin, but once he’s settled into the moment he’s running the show, laughing along with the others, pulling everyone into the conversation and making them feel at home.
Home. Such a strange thing to think of these days. Aloy isn’t sure if she ever learned that word correctly, but it feels right somehow.
Time passes by. Aloy smiles, cradling a mug the size of her skull while Erend jostles her, snorting at a joke he just made. It’s getting a little late in the evening, and as much as she’s enjoyed her friends, she’s never been one for parties. This one, as small as it is, has been bearable, fun, even. But she’s never had the stamina for things like this.
They’re talking about their first time meeting Aloy, a harmless subject at first, but it often ends in her thrust upon a pedestal, showered with affection while she sighs and shrinks further into herself. Maybe Beta had the right idea, sneaking off at the first moment she could. Varl’s just finishing the tale of her re-emerging from All-Mother Mountain, a moment that sits a little sour in her stomach. Going from outcast to anointed in one breath had been frustrating and overwhelming, a stark contrast to the awe that the moment conveys in Varl’s retelling.
“You seem to enjoy bringing down mountains.” Kotallo comments, bringing her into the conversation. She glances his way as he holds a playful smile, loosened with Erend’s ale. He doesn’t elaborate, even when the others mention the Bulwark, and Aloy’s supposed part in its collapse.
Something about his lack of eagerness to recount another one of her fabled stories gives her pause. Draws her in, where it would otherwise push her away. She smirks.
“You’re right,” Aloy replies. “We should’ve done what you suggested, kill Tekotteh and fight the sky clan on our own.” That grants a gritty ‘hrrmph’ from the Tenakth, but he’s smiling when he takes another sip of his drink.
“You have an odd way of problem solving,” Kotallo replies.
“Problem solving?” Aloy echoes, playfulness new but sweet on her tongue. “I thought you called me a miracle worker.”
“Hmm,” Kotallo considers. “I wonder if you’d leave the same impression, if you said what you were about to do.” He tilts his head, smile tugging at his lips, “Maybe they’re less of miracles, and more so secrets.”
Erend openly guffaws, reminding her that they are not alone in this conversation. She’s not used to being teased. Insulted, sure. Underestimated, definitely. But the playful push and pull is heady and addicting. She glances around the room. Zoe’s eyes are a little wide, Varl’s eyebrows raised as he hides his expression in his mug. There’s an undercurrent of something that Aloy can’t see clearly, but just as quick as it came the conversation shifts.
Aloy is the first to decide to turn in. The party dissolves pretty quickly after that. With the ale and desserts consumed, there isn’t much for cleaning, and the crew all seems to part ways with sleepy smiles and a contentedness that seeps into their bones.
Aloy finds Kotallo just outside her living quarters on her way to her room. He’s leaned up against the wall, hand idly fidgeting with the fabric covering his severed limb. Oddly relaxed for the Tenakth, although perhaps the alcohol might have aided it. She knows when she stood there was a swimming of her head, and that her footsteps feel just slightly less sure.
“You seem in a good mood,” she mentions as he nods with her approach. “Some might even call you chatty.” She knows she’s beating around the bush, avoiding what she really means. She enjoys his company, gets some kind of thrill when they banter.
“You really are a full time fighter, aren’t you?” He replies with a smile. “You don’t let up.”
“Thought you’d be able to handle it,” Aloy feels like she’s watching the conversation from above. A glinthawk circling a particularly enticing piece of salvage. What is she even saying? What is she trying to do here?
Kotallo takes a step closer, and her stomach drops. She stands her ground, as always. She’s never backed down upon anyone approaching her, and she’s not about to start now. But this is strange and new. Something she can’t track.
“I rather like your secrets, miracle-worker,” He admits, firmly within her personal space now. Aloy had never fully considered the man’s height, but only when he’s mere inches away does she take in just how small she is in comparison. Usually when she sizes others up she picks them apart by weakness, potential places she can exploit to gain the upper hand. But the images she’s conjuring are none of the sort, and take her by surprise.
Kotallo reaches out, careful but steady, to tuck a lock of hair behind Aloy’s ear. The touch, the barest brush against her cheek, feels like blazeburn.
“I look forward to watching them reveal themselves, in due time,” he murmurs, voice like rough water over stone.
The moment is gone in a blink. He seems to remember himself, stepping out of her space, and it takes all of her willpower to keep from following. She feels like a machine of some sort, hungry and vicious, and she tries her hardest to reign in her emotions. Her head spins, her blood pounding, and goddess, she aches.
“Rest well,” Kotallo says as he steps away from her door, headed back to his room. Aloy watches him go, waiting for his silhouette to disappear into the darkness and her heart rate to calm before turning into her room.