Chapter Text
Barren Light, the settlement where she had been told Talanah would be after their foray in the Rot, was the last vestige of what Aloy knew that overlooked the now not-so-Forbidden West. The sky was clear as the sun sunk beneath the flat plains of the desert. The oncoming twilight forced the Carja soldiers to switch places and the Oseram to close up their forges and head home. It was good to be back in a place that she had some passing familiarity with, and it was even better to be in the company of someone she had known before. Aloy climbed the hastily constructed scaffolding until she found Talanah standing there, purple flowers hanging in her limp grip. A smile danced across the Sunhawk’s face as she saw Aloy and immediately she stood up a bit to greet her friend.
“I’m guessing Amadis went on his way?” Aloy asked, knowing the answer already. She had seen the choice in the Carja warrior’s eyes even before she arrived at Barren Light. Somehow, she knew that Talanah would be there alone.
“We parted once we were inside the gates,” Talanah replied with a nod, her tone laden with that same, mild gruffness it always had. “I promised I’d see him back to the Sundom, and I did.”
“I’m sorry you went through all that just to break things off in the end,” Aloy sighed, her back resting against the balcony railing. The wind blew her beaded and braided red hair across her face, but she still looked at Talanah with all the tenacity that lived inside her bright, green eyes. It was that same fire within Aloy’s eyes that had encouraged Talanah to bring her along to fight Redmaw, and to ask for her aid in finding Amadis.
Talanah was friendly but not easy to open up, much like Aloy, however she knew that she could trust her Thrush over anyone. Aloy was dependable like no one else she had ever met. Even her supposed companion, Amadis, who she had spent the last few months hunting all over the West had not turned out to be the lover she supposed him to be. Perhaps that was her fault, but Talanah knew that those cold nights by the fire, when they had used each other’s bodies for warmth, when they spoke tenderly with their faces inches from each other, were no mistake. And yet here she was, holding flowers, having escorted Amadis as far as she would like.
“I’m not,” Talanah said almost instantly. It took Aloy by surprise— after all, they had just chased this man across the Sundom and into the West, all the way to the coast. “I don’t want to be with him while he’s still holding onto Nessa. Maybe he’ll never let go. Or maybe, when he’s figured himself out… who knows.”
“You deserve more,” Aloy said without thinking. It was like those words had been living in her belly, waiting to come out. Talanah perked up an eyebrow, her paint-darkened lips curling with slight bemusement. Aloy always wondered what the purpose of the paints the Carja wore were for, they were so unlike the broad strokes of blue and purple which the Nora proudly wore. Aloy had the passing thought that Talanah did not need the gentle paint on her lips and around her eyes.
“What do you mean?” Talanah asked, still holding the bundle of purple flowers in her hand. Her heart beat just a little faster, anticipating and expecting what Aloy was about to say.
“You went all the way to the end of our known world to track Amadis down. You faced enduring challenges almost all on your own. You deserve someone who would do the same for you, and would repay you for your deeds.”
Talanah was silent, and Aloy was worried she had said too much; Rost had never taught her how to mince words.
“I’m not the one to be going to advice for,” Aloy began, and for the first time Talanah saw the Savior of Meridian stumble unconfidently through her sentence. “The closest I’ve come is Avad asking me to stay in Meridian with him.”
“Avad asking you to be his personal guard was romantic to you?” Talanah asked, and Aloy smiled and shook her head.
“I think he was asking to marry me,” Aloy confessed, and Talanah had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“I didn’t take you for… you know…”
“You know?” Aloy repeated slyly, trying to keep the conversation light through her absolute confusion. Talanah’s heart beat faster and as she cleared her throat, her hand gripped the small bundle of purple flowers in her hand purposefully. Talanah would be a fool to say she had not imagined Aloy coming here, but it had taken the outcast so long to arrive that Talanah was planning on leaving that night. She loved to travel by the bright lights of the roving machines, it helped her take a safer path. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially when you were alone.
“I just meant that I didn’t think men were your type,” Talanah said finally. The words hung in the air like a Sunwing in flight. Aloy felt her cheeks heating up and, as she feared, Talanah saw them redden with chagrin. A flicker of amusement lit up Talanah’s dark eyes.
“I don’t have a type. Or at least, I’ve never had one,” Aloy said.
Why had she come all this way to see Talanah?
“At least you know it’s definitely not Avad,” Talanah said, and Aloy cracked a smile. The embarrassment melted away.
“You’re right about that,” Aloy sighed, looking back up at the evening stars. “Who are the flowers for?”
“They’re…” Talanah fumbled with the truth. If she told the truth, what would Aloy say? Was it worth it, after all that had transpired with Amadis, was she ready for another rejection? “I just picked them,” Talanah conceded, a task much more difficult than fighting machines. Perhaps it was Aloy’s prowess that disrupted her usual air of confidence that made her stumble. There must have been a good reason for the flowers; perhaps it was the arduous trek back to Barren Light, where she kept looking for Aloy to be by her side while she took down two Rollerbacks, three Widemaws, and several dozen Burrowers on her way. She had wondered through it all how many tenacious machines Aloy had overcome on her own path here. All the while, Talanah had found herself searching everywhere for Nora arrows with their signature blue and red fletchings.
Avoiding a further line of questioning due to the tightness in her chest, Aloy did not meet Talanah’s eyes. “So, where will you go now?”
“If you’re done saving the world, I wouldn’t mind you coming with me to Meridian,” Talanah said. “I’m sure you miss home, you’ve been out West for a long time.”
“I don’t exactly have a home, not for a while now,” Aloy said, pursing her lips a bit. “I could go back to the GAIA Base, but most everyone has left except Erend. And while it’s tempting to drink ale with him and let him beat me at Machine Strike over and over…” Aloy trailed off, and when she turned her head and locked eyes with Talanah, her decision was made. “I think I would rather hunt machines with you.”
“Wise choice, Thrush,” Talanah smiled, then clasped a hand over Aloy’s well-built shoulder and squeezed.
It was not the right time. Not now, anyway.
“We’ll leave tonight, unless you have some things to take care of?”
“No,” Aloy said. She thought back to all the Black Box recordings and Old World Ornaments and Melee Pits and Hunting Ground Marks and Survey Drones she had already collected, and yet she was certain there was still more to find. With all the time she had spent in the West it was a wonder there was still so much yet to do, but it could all wait. Aloy needed a break from the ruthless, desert heat and raucous Tenakth who, despite their battle-hardened appeal, did not feel like her tribe. “I’m ready now. Let’s go.”
“It’s going to be a long journey, I hope you have some stories ready,” Talanah teased. She began to walk down the narrow, wooden walkway that led down from the gate and back East. Aloy lifted her eyes over Talanah and caught blue lights in the distance.
“Or, we can travel my way,” Aloy offered, to which Talanah raised an eyebrow. “Come on, it will be fun. Let’s go.”
The Hawk and Thrush hid in the tall, red grass as they surveyed the herd of Chargers. The sun had completely set behind the tall mountains just outside of Barren Light toward Chainscrape, and near a babbling stream was a small herd of four Chargers.
“Which one do you want?” Aloy asked, and Talanah looked at her as if she had a Plasma Blaster atop her head.
“We get to ride them?” Talanah asked. “We only do that as a sport in Meridian, but they never let us truly tame them.”
“You chose me as your Thrush for a reason, didn’t you?” Aloy asked, holding up her spear which lit up in blue rings toward the heavy bottom as if on command. “If you don’t choose a machine in the next five seconds, I’ll give you the slow one.”
“All right, I was only asking out of excitement. I don’t even think there is a slow one, they’re machines,” Talanah smiled. “I know you’re the Savior of Meridian, but I’m still the Sunhawk. Your Sunhawk. You can’t call the shots when I’m around.”
“You say that, yet you still haven’t chosen a mount,” Aloy challenged, growing slightly impatient. Why was Talanah bantering so much?
“That one,” Talanah said, pointing to the Charger who was bent down over grass. Aloy nodded and quietly approached the unaware machine. Like she had done countless times before, Aloy drove the end of her spear into a port on the machine’s body, held it there, and watched as the blue veins of her override consumed its exterior. She kicked the Charger in its leg so that it would trot over to Talanah, then waited for her override to charge again before taming another one.
“That was amazing,” Talanah said once Aloy returned atop a Charger, her new, yellow Tenakth armor proud even in the moonlight. “I had no idea you could do that. You are full of surprises, Aloy.”
“Let’s get a move on, with these we’ll be on the lift up to the East in a few hours,” Aloy smiled— Talanah did not even know the half of it.
^ ^ ^
“What do you mean the lift isn’t back yet?” Aloy sighed, turning away from the Oseram who had just delivered bad news. “There was already a problem with it when I came here, and now suddenly when I want to go back East, there’s another problem?”
“Quit actin’ like you’re the main character, Red,” the heavyset Oseram woman laughed. “They need to fix the platform, so it should be only a day and then the lift will be back down in the Daunt.”
“I suppose we’ll have to make camp before dark here instead of in Meridian,” Talanah reasoned, giving Aloy a curt nod and pulling on her wrist to find a place to set up their bedrolls. To their luck, there were no roving quads of machines to interfere with a good night’s sleep. At least, not then.
“I’ve never seen you lose your cool like that,” Talanah noted when they found a spot just beneath a tree to make camp.
“I’ve been in the West for too long,” Aloy murmured as she pulled on tight ties to unfurl the two bedrolls. “I grew up in the cold mountains of Nora territory. I’m finding that I don’t really enjoy the dusty, hot desert.”
“The sand gets everywhere,” Talanah teased gently, a joke which earned her a small, half-smirk from Aloy. It made her chest feel lighter. “So does that mean you won’t stay in Meridian long?”
“I meant what I said, Talanah. I would rather take down a thousand Stalkers in Meridian with you than do anything else right now,” Aloy reassured her. She adjusted the bedrolls so they were on opposing sides of the campfire, confident that this arrangement was best. There was something dangerous about staying too close to Talanah. Aloy had sensed it when she had reached out to comfort Talanah at the Rot, that curious spark of electricity she had never felt before with another person. Aloy could not recall a time where she had initiated contact like that, even among her closest friends.
“Do you think I have the Blight? Why is yours so far away from mine?” Talanah asked, pointing to the bedrolls.
“I could ask you why your bedroll is so close to mine,” Aloy said idly, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“It gets pretty cold in the desert at night, I’m sure you know,” Talanah tried, to which there was no reaction from Aloy. The Sunhawk in her did not back down from what she desired, so she tried once more to get her point across. “It would be far warmer if we were closer together, don’t you think?”
Aloy stared at her for longer than she expected to, wondering why Talanah cared so much about a little extra warmth. Although her Carja armor left little to the imagination it was not completely bereft of heat, and on top of it all Aloy had just begun to pull a blanket from her pack. But Talanah was right, it would be much cozier to sleep huddled together. Aloy was so used to traveling alone that it had become nearly impossible to ask for help. Rost had always taught her that she could only rely on herself, she was the only true constant in her life.
“All right, I’ll sleep next to you. For warmth.”
Talanah’s smile lit up quicker than the fire Aloy was bent down trying to start.
The night fell around them as they ate their rations of dried venison along with some diced potatoes. The venison was from Erend, who had taught Aloy what Rost couldn’t; that seasoning your dried meats made the experience of eating them on the road far more satisfying. The Nora, while colorful in dress and ritual, were not so expert in the ways of cooking flavorful meals— that was a Carja art.
Aloy pulled another piece off with her teeth and chewed silently. There was a soft call from a coyote in the distance which made both of the women turn their heads. Talanah watched the way that Aloy’s jaw clenched as she ate, the way her hands carefully tore apart the venison as she chewed, the way she paid such close attention to everything she did. As if all of this were sacred.
“You never quite caught me up on everything that you did out West,” Talanah said after a long bout of silence. The wordlessness between them was never anxious, but nothing changed if there were no words to move with. “I’m sure you have a surplus of campfire tales.”
“I don’t think you would believe half of what I would tell you,” Aloy smirked, pulling her knees up to her chest. They sat beside each other and watched the flames from their small campfire lick against what little firewood they had. “I don’t even believe it.”
“I believe in you. I have ever since you took down Redmaw,” Talanah admitted. “Watching that was… spectacular. I’ve never met anyone who hunts the way you do. I’ve never met anyone like you, full stop.”
Aloy tapped her Focus affixed to her temple with her two fingers. “I have help.”
“I don’t think it’s your Focus that should get all the credit. Sure, it’s an undeniable advantage. But what you do takes real, natural talent. The Focus doesn’t make you dodge any quicker, it doesn’t give you the strength to pull your bowstring taut, and it certainly didn’t kill Redmaw— you did all of that. It only enhances what you are already completely capable of.”
Aloy rolled her lips together and rested her chin on her upper arm so she could take a good look at Talanah. After mulling her words over, she could not stop a smile from spreading across her face.
“I should say thank you, but I hate compliments.”
“Why?”
“They don’t help anything. They just make my head bigger, and if my head’s too big—”
“So you’re afraid of people telling you good things because you, the Savior of Meridian, the Seeker of the Nora, the solution to all our problems, don’t already have the most enormous head?”
Aloy sat there silently for a moment before a small burst of air, meant to be a laugh, blew through her nostrils. She pressed her lips against her arm so as not to laugh anymore, but Talanah could see the playfulness in her eyes.
“Take the compliments, Aloy. You never know how long they'll last,” Talanah said, her eyes finding the flames again, and within them vestiges of the past. Aloy wanted to reach out her hand in the moment, because she knew exactly where Talanah’s mind had drifted off to. But for all her intelligence with machines and tactics, Aloy had no experience with matters of the heart. It was difficult to teach such a thing out in the ancient wilds of the East.
“You are a loyal friend for trying so hard to find Amadis,” Aloy said, which made Talanah rip her mind away from her memories. “You chased a ghost trail halfway across the world for a man who was chasing someone else. And you even took him to Barren Light with you, regardless. That is real strength. That is real talent.”
Talanah did not hide her smile. She let it beam like the headlights of a Watcher in the deep, dark night.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before. With the bedroll debacle,” Talanah said as the fire began to dim. The shapes that it made on Aloy’s face were still starkly beautiful, even in the low light. “I was only trying…” something in Aloy’s placid expression made her stop in the middle of her sentence. Her heart was beating quickly, her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. Suddenly, Talanah had lost her confidence and bravado altogether.
“Trying to do what?” Aloy asked, confused as to what Talanah had to say.
“I… I thought that maybe you…”
“Talanah, I have never seen you so nervous. Not even when that Tideripper leapt out of the ocean and almost killed us,” Aloy said in an attempt to lighten a suddenly heavy mood. She watched as Talanah looked into the dwindling flames and realized she was trying to shy away from her intention. “Talanah, whatever it is, you know I won’t judge you. You can trust me.”
Talanah rolled her lips together and looked Aloy right in the eye, as she would her next targeted machine. “I thought you would want to cuddle.”
Aloy felt the heat rise in her cheeks and a rush of warmth raced down her torso. In all of the conversation trees she had grown in her mind, nothing had prepared her for that.
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never really cuddled before. Not since I was maybe six or seven years old, and even that was just during the winter months with my father.”
“You really were an outcast, weren’t you? Why?” Talanah asked, her eyes dark with interest. “I thought the Nora were fairly close-knit.”
“I didn’t have a mother.”
Talanah got quiet, fearing she had hit a nerve. Aloy had responded so quickly that Talanah was worried it was still a sore subject. “When did she die?”
“No, it’s not… I never had a mother. Not in the typical sense, anyway,” Aloy said, thinking back to the fossilized skeleton surrounded by flowers somewhere she could not remember now.
“How could you not have a mother?”
“That’s a story for another time, I think. I have to save something for the road,” Aloy smirked. Talanah nodded, putting the tip of her thumb between her teeth. There was still that offer on the table of closeness, but then sleepiness possessed Aloy. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and began to take off the sharper parts of her armor and set them to the side of her bedroll. Talanah did not realize that this was what Aloy had meant by sleeping closely for warmth, that a grand foot of distance was good enough for her.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Aloy told her. Before Talanah could ask the question which was burning on her lips and heavy in her heart, Aloy sank down to the ground and turned on her side to face away from Talanah. The Sunhawk held back a sigh, her throat feeling tight with the words she so desperately wished to say.
Hold me. Sunlight help me, Aloy, please hold me.