Chapter Text
The pillow doesn't smell like Kotallo anymore.
Aloy's not even really sure why she even expected it to. It's been two weeks. Two weeks of running between Plainsong and Barren Light and fighting off some tideripper down to the south. Two weeks of restless nights and staring up at star-studded skies and the darkness of her own closed eyes. Two weeks of opening the map again and again, watching her marker draw ever closer to the Base, only to get pulled further away by yet another cry for help.
Kotallo had made it back to the Base just fine. He had even messaged her about it, and at the time, Aloy had stared at his words, her own hopes pushing to the forefront of her mind, her hands shaking as she typed out her own message.
Glad you're safe. Looking forward to coming home and getting some rest.
She had stared at the word home for far too long, and by then she had stumbled into a leaplasher convoy, and never got to send her reply.
Three days later, Kotallo notified her of his need to leave again, and Aloy cursed into her hands, realizing she had never messaged back.
That was well over a week ago. His current mission had drawn him all the way back to the Grove—and then beyond. But he's considerate, at least. Far more mindful than she's ever been before, always sending in some message or update any time his location changes.
At least she had held the presence of mind to let him know she was back safe at the Base before Zo took one look at her and immediately ordered her straight into bed.
So now Aloy's curled up on her bedroll, staring up at the darkened ceiling of her room, and she sighs.
It only it was so easy. As if all it takes is just laying herself out and pulling a blanket over her body in order to send herself into sleep.
Her mind seems to hum at her instead, like the stacks of servers down where Beta hides, input from the focus cast behind closed eyes, set to repeat again and again.
Rebel encampment in Stillsands.
Concerns from Zo over state of plowhorn repair.
Greenstone needed for upgrades—ask Rukkah for nearby locations?
Salt Bite and the missing Tallneck signal.
Make sure the Showmen haven't blown up Hidden Ember.
Double check those supply contracts in the morning—fulfill with current machine parts?
Figure out how to capture Hephaestus.
Stop the Zeniths.
Find Regalla.
The biosphere collapsing.
Aloy sighs, rolling onto her side and scooping her arms around the closest touch of softness that she can find and pulling it close. It's all too much. It's not enough. She just—she needs….
She buries her face into the pillow, and then pulls in a sharp breath, the part of her brain most dulled out by exhaustion convincing her that an act so simple would be enough to bring her comfort in this moment.
She's wrong.
The motion is familiar. Even with what little is left of her rational mind still awake, she knows that this pillow in particular is supposed to help her. Somehow. But it's not—and it's missing something, and all Aloy can do is pull away and stare at its form through the dark as she waits for her the rest of her mind to catch up on what exactly it is that she lacks in this moment.
Somehow the realization hurts more than the sense of lacking that goes along with it.
It's missing Kotallo.
She pulls the pillow close again, her nose rubbing against the softened fabric, and if she was any more aware, she would maybe laugh at herself of how stupid she must look right now, nuzzling like some fox digging through a carpet of leaves for fresh prey, but all she can find is a confirmation of that which she has lost.
It doesn't smell like Kotallo anymore.
The thought catches within her chest, and somewhere between her heart and her mind, it slips out of her in a low, choking whine through the back of her throat.
It's stupid. It's so stupid. She existed just fine for twenty years without him. She's spent countless nights sleeping on her own, or working through the nights that she couldn't sleep. She shouldn't be laying here, cradling something that doesn't even matter, and grieving for something she hasn't even really lost in the first place.
She has to be logical.
Her whole head feels like its reeling in the aftermath of a watcher blast, though. Pounding against her skull and ringing in her ears and even with her eyes closed, streaked through with faint spots of light in the edges of her vision.
Ok. The pillow doesn't smell like Kotallo anymore. And obviously, this whole "spare bedroll standing in for him" situation hasn't been very successful either. She has to start looking for alternatives.
What else matters about Kotallo? Not just the scent of him—pine and clay and cold like snow but also warm like the slightest bit of sweat dried upon his skin—but things she can replicate. Or find elsewhere.
He's… warm. Quiet. Doesn't let her get away with running herself into the ground. And he's got a nice, steady heartbeat—goddess, she could listen to it for hours just for the sound of it, like if thunder had become something calm instead, a storm soothed and settled behind ribs and tattooed skin.
A heartbeat… maybe she just needs a heartbeat. Someone else to listen too because this room is too damn quiet and her mind is too damn loud.
You don't see her falling asleep on either of us, do you?
Erend's words float through her mind, and Aloy sits back up at the thought of them. Would they let her? If she asked them?
Is it really just that simple? Is that all it would take?
Aloy stares out against the dark, then gathers the pillow back up in her arms.
She cannot quiet the rational part of her that says she should leave it, but she can ignore it. Instead, the edges of Aloy' consciousness insist that it must come with her, so it does. Aloy holds the pillow tight against her chest as she steps back into the main room, squinting against even the dimmed lighting in the space, until her slow steps bring her face to face with Zo, the only other person in the room.
Aloy's not sure exactly when Zo becomes aware of her presence, just that she sighs roughly and turns to face her. "Aloy, you and I both know it hasn't even been an hour yet. Surely you—oh."
Zo breaks off, her voice going soft on the edges, and Aloy finally talks herself into lifting her head, meeting the other woman's gaze.
"Can I sleep with you?" She whispers, and if she was any less tired, she would flinch at how weak her voice sounds, or maybe take offense to how quickly the look of frustration in Zo's eyes melts into one of almost pity.
But she isn't any less tired. She's exhausted, and the only functional thought in her mind is how much she needs sleep, or she is two seconds away from calling Kotallo himself and begging him to come back to the Base just so she can curl up with him.
But she can't do that. So she's asking Zo.
"Of course," Zo murmurs back, her voice soft and her touch light as it falls upon Aloy's shoulder, leading her away. "Looks like it's a good thing you asked."
-
This is stupid.
This is so far beyond stupid that Aloy almost wants to laugh, but something about the way her breath keeps catching in her throat tells her that laughing would probably bring her one step closer to tears than she wants to be, and she's never cried in front of anyone ever before.
That's not true, her mind whispers, wholly unhelpful. You cried when Kotallo held you.
But this isn't Kotallo with her now. This is Zo. And Zo is a perfectly lovely person, but everything about all of this is all wrong.
Zo is all elbows and a slender form, soft like the twisting branches of a tree but it's not enough. The sound of her heartbeat is all wrong and she isn't nearly warm enough and the scent of herbs is too sharp, tinged with dirt and spice instead of clay, and all Aloy can do is stare up into the darkness with the loudness of her racing mind and the silence of the room.
Zo, in all of her kindness, does not force Aloy to stay when her patience finally runs out and she sits upright.
"Not what you needed?" The Utaru hums, her hand falling soft and warm against the small of Aloy's back.
Aloy shakes her head in response, her head spinning even from a motion as simple as that, before burying her face into her drawn up knees.
"Don't be afraid to keep looking," Zo hums, and it really is true how soothing her voice sounds. "I have a suspicion you already know what you need, Aloy. There's nothing wrong in going after it."
The main room is still empty when Aloy finally steps into it again, which is probably a good thing because she doesn't even want to begin thinking about what Varl or Erend might say if they saw her like this.
She doesn't even want to see herself like this.
She almost makes it back to her room. She really does, or she means to, at least. Instead, Aloy's steps start to stall out near the bunk room, and by the time she's even fully conscience of where she's walking, she finds herself stopped right in front of Kotallo's bunk.
Temptation catches itself like hope in her lungs, matched only by the sudden roil of guilt inside her gut.
Kotallo keeps a blanket strung over his space anyways. Nobody would ever be able to tell if she slipped behind there and curled up in his bunk, surrounded by the scent of him and kept warm by the ghost of his presence.
But this is his space. Why is she even considering intruding like this?
And yet—
"Anything," Kotallo says, his hand warm within her own, and just one look onto his eyes says that he means it, says that he has sworn himself to this one word in the same way that he swore his life to hers standing in the Grove.
Maybe he meant it even then, when he vowed to walk with her that first time, his hand pressed against his chest and his eyes burning into her own.
Her weight sways, and Aloy blinks, trying to draw all of her thoughts back together and realizing just how long she has been standing here in front of his bunk.
This is so stupid.
But Aloy pulls down a deep breath anyways, and clutches the pillow a little closer to her chest, and ducks underneath the drape in order to step in Kotallo's bunk fully.
Her lips twist into a faint smile at the sight of it, not really sure what she was expecting and yet this matches exactly what she knows of him. A tied together mat of sticks with a blanket draped across it—she questions it every time she sees one in a shelter; there is no way the sticks are that comfortable—but it is so fitting and familiarly Tenakth that it warms within Aloy's chest.
Another blanket, neatly folded and set upon the corner of the mat. A pillow, one that seems to have seen its own fair share of better days, sits on top of the woven blanket, and Aloy's smile deepens into something far more comfortable as she traces her fingers across the surface of it.
Well. In for a shard, in for the salvage.
Aloy curls up on top of the bed before her more rational mind can tell her that this is a terrible idea, and immediately lets out a sigh of relief, all but melting into the blanket beneath her.
Sticks or no sticks, this is perfect.
The whole thing is steeped in that pine and clay scent, soft and comforting as Aloy nestles into the bed, finding the grooves between the branches and the spots where the blanket beneath her has grown soft from use. A hand tossed out, blindly searching for the blanket left behind, before Aloy is pulling it up over body and murmuring her contentment into the fabric.
Safe and warm and all of it flooded through with the thought of Kotallo.
She cracks one eye open slowly, almost lazily, and twists about just enough to collect Kotallo's pillow as well, bringing it close and nuzzling against it, savoring the closeness of his presence even as he is so far away.
And for the first time in far too long, her mind finally stills, and Aloy tucks herself into the silence just as surely as the scent of Kotallo envelopes her, wrapped about in his blankets and laying on his bed.
And perhaps it is simply the exhaustion, too long spent awake and now finally finding relief, or maybe it is simply the comfort of it all, the softness that somehow means so much more than what is found in her own bed.
Whatever it may be, Aloy closes her eyes, and finally drifts asleep.