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The Tenakth are a touchy lot, Aloy has noticed. They don’t treat her like the Nora–outcast to be shunned and then a holy relic to be adored. They don’t treat her like the Carja–some savior to be treated with polite respect and awe. The Oseram and Utaru never quite know what to make of her and keep their distance as a result.
But the Tenakth, already a culture of hands on skin in every fashion imaginable, treat Aloy like one of them. With hugs and kisses, offers to spar, to paint, to tattoo. A hand on her arm unexpectedly, the press of bodies near the fire at mealtimes.
Once she’d dreamed of such things, but the startling reality is she hates it.
Hates it.
It’s too much, this feeling of people after so long alone. And she can’t get used to it. She can scarcely stand the careful touches from those at the Base–Zo and Varl, Erend who somehow manages to remember that she prefers a wave over a hug even when he’s been drinking. But neither can she find it in her to tell them to stop.
So she endures it, attempting to time her visits to the capitals and settlements when she knows it will be quieter, less full of people. Bracing herself for the hands–friendly as they are–that reach for her. She knows somewhere they are just acknowledging her place as one of them.
It gets worse after the Kulrut, and she struggles to keep from screaming the first time Drakka sweeps her up into a hug. She can’t avoid the settlements, so she continues to endure it, filing it away as one more duty she must submit to in a long line of things that will break her eventually.
Marshal Kotallo seems the opposite of his fellow Tenakth in this regard. She isn’t sure if it’s because of his injury, but he doesn’t touch her, except when necessary–meaning when her life is in danger–and the other Tenkath don’t seem to touch him. She’s unsure again if this is because of his injury or his station. Tekotteh's grabbing of his shoulder had been pure malice. She finds herself taking him with her when she has to have dealings with the Tenakth because his presence alone provides a space she so desperately needs.
And then, like the melting of snow in the springtime, all of it slowly vanishes. She is no longer dodging outstretched arms and hands with every stop she makes. People pass her things, careful to keep the contact to a minimum. It’s not the grating worship of the East though, it’s different. She doesn’t even register the shift consciously, until one day she goes to the Grove to see Hekarro. Dekka, who usually greets her with a hand upon her arm, only gives her a nod instead. The Chaplain seems unusually reserved and Aloy’s spine prickled with concern.
She frowned. “Dekka,” she said as they walked to the throne room. “Have I…done something wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t…” she hesitated, her brain struggling to make sense of the change. “Something’s different, off. I don’t know what. I just realized everyone’s…what is going on?”
“Nothing, Champion. You are–” Dekka shook her head with a frown of her own, but then an expression of recall crossed her face. “Oh, I think I do know! When Marshal Kotallo was here the other day he mentioned to the chief that you prefer not to be touched. I should apologize, it’s in our nature, even I didn’t consider that it might be unwelcome.”
“Kotallo…” The memory of a blazing hot day a few weeks ago comes back to her. They’d been in Scalding Spear, passing through on their way to deal with a Slitherfang north of the Desert Clan capital. Aloy had steeled herself when she heard Drakka’s greeting ring through the air. It was worse that day for some reason, the heat maybe, making her skin hurt with the anticipation of the contact. When the sudden sound of skin hitting skin and a yelp of pain reached through her panic. She’d looked around but only saw Kotallo’s blank expression and Drakka with both arms clasped loosely behind his back. “Champion, it’s good to see you. Let me know if you need anything,” he’d said with a nod.
“I will,” she replied with a smile, the relief swelling over her.
She was not touched a single time while they were there.
“Aloy?”
“I’m sorry, what?” She smiled at Dekka.
“I asked if this was correct. I do wish you’d told us sooner, we wouldn’t have been offended.”
“It is,” she replied. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t…I’m not very good at that.”
Dekka nodded. “As Kotallo said, you concern yourself so much with saving the world you forget to save yourself. It has been fixed, so you need not worry.”
“Sometimes I don’t mind.” Aloy found herself reaching a hand out and Dekka took it with a smile.
“Then you only have to do what you just did.”
She doesn’t make it back to the Base until nearly a week later, stumbling in late one night, exhausted and sore from a Ravager fight that netted her a primary nerve she’d been looking for for over a month. Erend and Kotallo looked up from their Strike game as she came through the door.
“Aloy!” Erend raised a hand and waved. “There’s still dinner. I haven’t put it away yet.”
She stowed her gear, showered, and grabbed a bowl of stew and sat down on the couch to watch the game. As she ate the pair played and she relaxed fully for the first time in a while. Her bowl is empty and her eyes heavy with sleep. Moving suddenly seems like an awful lot of trouble.
Erend sighs as Kotallo takes another piece, Even in Aloy's sleepy state he’s clearly going to lose. “I think that’s enough for me,” he said, getting to his feet and taking the dish from her hands. “I’m going to go clean up and get to bed.”
“Your trip was good?” Kotallo asked and Aloy nodded, yawning. “You should go to bed.”
“I know,” she whispered, stifling a second yawn with the back of her hand and then pushed to her feet. Kotallo rose with her but didn’t reach for her, even though she swayed unsteadily. Aloy shuffled to her door and looked up at him. “I stopped at the Grove. Thank you.”
“Anytime, I…understand,” he said with a smile that pulled at the scar on the corner of his mouth. Then he extended his hand, palm up. An invitation not a demand. And Aloy laid her hand in his, watching as his brown eyes warmed and his smile softened.
She squeezed once, let him go. “Good night, Kotallo.”
“Good night, Aloy. Sleep well.”