#not like aloy ruined his day putting an arrow through his eye a few seconds later or anything

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon zero dawn (remastered) | watcher

[kayr0ss]

Hands that Remember [AO3 Link]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back.  It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

---

Chapter 1: Resurfacing

It was endless.

The dust and sand reminded him of the canyons north of Meridian—but it seemed harsher.  Endless, expansive. Flat. He’d lost sight of All-Mother Mountain days ago and soon even the icy northern peaks of the Cut had fallen behind the horizon. All that was around him were rocks and packed earth.

Clouds of dust rose from under his footsteps, caught in a wind swooping over from further west. He wondered if they would reach the end of the world before the end of this desert. Did it just… stop? Was there an edge where everything ceased to be, a void down below ready to consume anything unfortunate enough to travel just a bit too far?

He grunted at his thoughts. Way too poetic. Been hanging around too many Carja these days—and not enough ale to drown out all the needless chatter.

What was Aloy doing out here anyway?

Still, he pressed on with gritted teeth, pulling up the fabric of his scarf above his nose. There was shelter up ahead. The faint purple glow he was following led him straight down its path: a ruin of the Old Ones full of rusting metal and crumbling rock. There were a few trees in the vicinity, tall and shooting straight up from the ground as though they were arrows.

“Must’ve taken shelter here,” he grumbled to himself.

It was a short trek to reach the threshold of the ruins. There was an archway holding a dilapidated sign, looking as if a strong kick to the base would be enough to knock it over. For a minute he entertained the thought, but what for?

A pile of metal junk lies near the perimeter of the building—one of those rectangular containers, similar to those dumped by the Old Ones in the scrapyard near Free Heap. The building itself was covered in vines and… flowers? That’s when he noticed the grass by his feet. It was lush and green, much like in the Embrace, and where plant life thrives it means—

“Water.”

He picked up his pace, falling into a jog. The journey had taken a toll on him. He was glad to have kept some empty water skins on hand—a fresh refill and his store of dried meats would be more than enough to last him the walk back. It was a small comfort against the mounting restlessness that clawed at the back of his mind, the feeling that he was never going to catch up with her at the rate he was going. He wondered if he’d tracked Aloy down this far west only to have her meet him on the road—already on the way back.

At least he hoped she was. Coming back, that is. He shook his head. Not the best time to think about that.

Further inspection revealed no machines in sight. Odd. Did Aloy clear the way already? Or was there something else, something that kept them away? The thought was unnerving, but he kept his hammer stowed away at his back. Couldn’t pick up any threats, anyway. No mines either, he nodded to himself. Stalkers could be ruled out.

He looked up towards the building. It was worn down, only the haunting twisted metal of its skeleton left standing, rubble littered at the base. “Probably fed a whole thunderjaw into a forge to build this one.” He chortled. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Right. Water.”

He followed the way to a patch where the growth was thicker. “Huh.” He paused, frowning. There were purple flowers arranged in a triangle too perfect to be natural. Some sort of stone seating structure was in the center and—

“Fire and spit!” he sputtered out, war-hammer pulled at the ready while he awkwardly regained his footing after nearly tripping. For some reason, even in the heat of battle he decided he didn’t want to step on the violet blooms that seemed so dainty and beautiful.

Was that… a person?

His frown deepened, brows knitting together as he looked over some sort of machine suit. It reminded him of the material Aloy had crafted over standard Nora leathers. He gently prodded at the suit with the end of his hammer’s grip. No movement. The overgrowth consuming it was an indication that it’d been sitting there for, well, a while.

He stepped in a little closer, laying a hand along the suit’s shoulder to dust it away. Cold. He recoiled.

Cold as death.

For a second or two he considered scavenging the strange machine-suit for parts, but quickly dismissed the thought when he realized there might be someone… inside. He stepped back, putting down his hammer. Oseram were delvers, not grave robbers.

I should probably go. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling intrusive and out of place, but one last look over the suit made him shake his head. Was this their home? He tried to imagine what the ruins might have looked before. Like Meridian, perhaps?

The person looked peaceful. Content. But it looked like a lonely way to go.

“You, uh…” he set a heavy gloved hand on the suit’s shoulder. “Have a good rest.”

The stillness didn’t last for very long. As he lifted his hand a cloud of cold, frigid gas began to leak from the small slits along the suit’s shoulders and joints.

The focus Aloy gifted him began to buzz, in sync with the deep onset of frantic panic at the pit of his stomach. By the forge did he break something? He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to tap his focus. Purple lights sprung to life—a spattering of odd blinking symbols and words that were enough to disorient him. Circles of light hovered highlighted portions of the suit, bringing up numbers and flashing words—counting down with urgency.

[WARNING:  Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Atmospheric Seal Compromised]

"Seal?" What was that supposed to mean? He frowned. Too sober for this.

A disembodied voice buzzed into his ear—eerie and inhuman, like how the Shadow Carja’s god HADES sounded, except not quite as threatening. A woman’s voice.

[Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Oxygen Supply—Depleted. Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Potable Liquid Tank—Depleted]

There was a chilling pause.

[External Personnel Detected. Assessment: User of FAS Standard-Issue FOCUS Unit Number ZERO-ONE-ONE-THREE - Assistance Required. Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“What am I—?!” He looked around in a panic, feeling out of his element. Was it talking to him? This was the sort of thing Aloy was good at! “What am I supposed to do?!”

[Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“You already said that.” He grumbled back, frustrated. Does that mean this thing—this…Old One—was still alive? Upon closer inspection he could see it: frost crawling out of the vents. Cold. Still as cold as death.

He couldn’t believe it. Frozen in time.

[Stand-by for assisted reanimation.]

He reached out towards the blinking lights across the rectangular badge on the suit’s odd chest plate. It responded to his touch with purple lights blinking into living words floating across his fingertips. He gasped.

He recognized that name.

[Disengaging Cryostasis Protocol. Stand-by for assisted reanimation. Projection: ninety-three minutes to thermal homeostasis.]

--

“Captain, what happened?”

Voices. Too far away. Or were they nearby? Damn. She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t even open her eyes. It was cold. So fucking cold—colder than Nevada had any right to be.

“Get blankets! Anything! Beladga, got any shirts you can spare?”

Why was everyone in a panic? Had she fallen asleep in the control center? Huh. She didn’t recall Travis sounding nearly as gruff as that.

Travis? The others—

She… she had a job to do. A mission. What was it? Everything felt distant—disconnected. She vaguely realized she that she was shivering but why? She tried to call out but realized that she was physically unable to speak, her throat feeling dry as sandpaper. Coughing erratically, she noticed that she was partially intubated with a sort of breathing apparatus.

[Seventeen minutes to thermal homeostasis. Please prepare for disengagement of auxiliary respirator.]

An automated voice was buzzing into her ear through her focus. She could feel her senses turning, along with the slight mobility of her limbs. It seems she was being carried—or rather, being laid down onto something soft. There were footsteps. Movements. The voices were hushed, secretive and confused. There was a soft yellow light through the ambiguous blur of color that swam around her vision.

[Auxiliary respirator disengaging.]

The machinery abruptly detached the mask from her nose and mouth. The sudden brightness made her recoil, her face feeling exposed. She fell into a fit of violent coughing—as if she had forgotten how to breathe. It was painful. God, it fucking sucked.

“Take it easy now,” said the voice from earlier. It was a man. He—He was speaking with her through his own voice. How is that possible? No one could survive out here without a suit. The atmosphere was too—

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

Memories of her last excursion came flooding back: the bunker door failing to seal. Her last transmission to the Alphas. Project Zero Dawn. GAIA—the Swarm!

Coming home.

Dying.

I’m supposed to be dead.

“I—” she rasped out, voice hoarse and jagged. Panicked.

“Whoa there,” there was a steady hand on her shoulder, helping her turn to her side. She felt something press against her mouth almost forcefully. “Drink this.”

“We got to get her out of that suit, captain.” There was another voice, female this time.

“I think—” the captain, she assumed, replied “—I think we need to wait a few more minutes. The device is telling me that—”

Everything was fading into black again.

--

“—else to go follow her trail, or just hope she comes back. She has to… she needsto see this. I just… Oh. She’s awake, I think.”

There was some shuffling. Once again, she was offered water. It was sweet this time. Did they mix in sugar? She tried to ask but she was so, so tired and…

--

Sobeck Journal, 1-27-66

I wasn’t going to see any of it anyway.

Best I can do is hope, I guess. The landscape is barren now – I’m kind of glad the other Alphas don’t have to see it this close up. Stings. I’m half-expecting to hear Patrick patch me in via holo, asking why I haven’t dragged my feet to the conference hall for the scheduled status briefing. He’ll take good care of the younger kids, him and Charles both. ZD and the Swarm seem so small and faraway now that I’m walking away from it all. Quite literally. Hauled my ass all the way to Nevada.

Glad mom isn’t around to see the ranch like this. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine it: the tall pine trees, the grass. Maybe I’ll get to see things the way they were before on the other side… wherever that might be.

I’m tired.

Time to rest.

--

She woke up with a jolt.

“Hey.

He was still there, sitting on the ground across from her and looking just as confused as she was. Her vision was clearer now—and every detail she managed to catalogue drove a spike of panic and confusion deeper into the hollow of her chest. They were in a leather tent lit by a small gasoline lamp in the corner. They seemed to be in the outskirts of an encampment, faraway enough to not be disturbed.

“I’m guessing this is freaking you out a little.” He scratched at the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes. He pointed to a waterskin laid down beside her bedroll. “Maybe get some more water in before you speak? I’ve got some dried meats too. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in… a while.”

On the matter of guesses, she had a vague idea what might be going on. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting and a hundred percent something she did notask for.

She had an unfortunately stellar track record for hypothesizing, though. Chances of her guess being wrong were dreadfully slim. The cold. The scenery. Even the clinical tone and instructions of her Ultraweave Suit’s reanimation module—a system she helped develop herself, back when the prospect of sleeping through the disaster was considered an option.

It wasn’t. Not consistent enough to use en masse—not enough foresight to secure species continuity.

She took a drink of water, willing to steel her nerves before panic caught up with her executive faculties. She needed to orient herself with wherever it was she woke up in. Hell, forget where, the real question is—

“When… is it?”

He blinked. “Uh, today?”

“What year is it?”

The man’s expression softened—a look that didn’t quite fit with the rest of his character. He was big. Towering—even while seated on the floor—with broad shoulders and a figure strong enough to walk around with enough steel to build a car door, apparently. “You sound so much like her.”

“I don’t follow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming along. She needed to eat.

“Sorry I—” he scratched at his beard. “It’s the reign of the 14th Sun-King, Avad the Liberator.”

Kings? Again?

“I’m Erend, captain of the King’s vanguard.”

He paused.

“You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?”

-

fin

-

A/N: I'd like to acknowledge Tototops for doing an amazing job beta-reading this! It's always a pleasure, and my writing is always pushed to grow better with every suggestion and correction you help me with. x) And to my friends Sleepy, @theguardiandragon1, @saltypyrotato, @tanuki-pyon and Fridge for listening to my HZD manic fever ramblings and helping me make sense of the plot I had in mind.

Just finished the game about two weeks ago and read a bunch of fanfic. I consumed Writerly's Second Dawn (which is absolutely amazing!!!!), which is my foremost inspiration for even attempting to write fanfic of this wonderful franchise. I base a lot of my characterizations and format of story telling in this fic from their work, and hope to do so in a way which is still true to the unique plot I've set for it. I am very excited to be trying something new and to learn and get better along the way. Hope you all enjoy. :)

[theragingthespian]

winter's end

She spends three days in Meridian. After the battle is over, once the recovery begins.

(She hadn’t been able to be there for the Nora after their homes were crushed and set ablaze.

Rost would have wanted to help.

Not because they’re Nora- even though that may have played a great deal into it- but because it’s people.

People who need help, and she, she has the strength to offer it.

She still remembers how his hands had shook on her shoulders and I never said the tribe wouldn’t need you.)

She does what she can, clearing out damaged buildings and stripping what parts can be used from downed machines.

The day they find the ancient machine in the outskirts of the city, she realizes exactly how close they were to the end.

(It’s large and rusted and she feels a shiver run down her spine at the sight of it.

They get reports from the messengers about machines rising from the dirt only to crumble back to lifelessness after the signal stopped.

How close they all were.)

They drink.

It’s constant. Every night, the drinks come out and the shouts grow. The Nora leave soon after, distaste clear on their features at the revelry that mirrors the Carja’s at their first sight of the Nora.

Varl stops her, hand light on her arm after he slides past Erend and his drunken retelling of the same story for the third time that night.

“We’re gathering our supplies and leaving at dawn.” He looks around the crowd, raises one eyebrow slowly before dragging his eyes back to her, “Are you coming with us?”

(It’s not accusing.

Not a you’re staying here, with them? Just a quiet question amongst the music and lights.

For Sona to be so brash, her children bring an unfounded concern for others.

Her heart twists at the thought of Vala, offering her words before the Proving when she knew nothing of her.

Another good person who didn’t deserve the ending she suffered.)

“Probably not,” she offers honestly, bumping their shoulders together, “think you can make it back without me?”

“The Anointed grows arrogant,” he says solemnly, but there’s a brightness in his eyes, a small tick of a smile. “We’ll be fine. They have the best at their sides.”

“Make sure to send your mother my regards then.”

“That was low.” He clutches his chest before smiling again. “Just try and find your way home at some point, okay? There will be some who miss you.”

“Only some?” It’s easier to joke and dance around the tightness in her chest, the uncertainty of what comes next.

Varl asks her to come home, but here’s the thing: she doesn’t know where that is.

x

“Do you think this is worth it?”

Rost frowns down at her leg, hands moving as he wraps it. “What are you talking about?”

She wants to tap her feet, tries wiggling the one in Rost’s grasp only for him to shoot her a quick look.

She just wanted to prove she could climb all the way up the cliff without help.

(Which she didn’t actually prove, but she learned exactly what a broken leg feels like.

She doesn’t really like that lesson, but Rost says it’s good to know, like any consequence, and should serve as a lesson.

She’s sick of lessons.)

“The training. The Proving.” Six years to go and there’s still so much to learn, so much to do until she’s left with knowledge and muscle and bleeding fingertips.

“To become a part of the tribe is something you need.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She pauses, adds, “I don’t need them. I have you.” Rost doesn’t say anything at that, does the half smile, half frown he usually does. “Do you think all of this,” she throws her arms to the side, shakes them until he dips his head in understanding, “is worth finding out about my mother?”

“Aloy,” and oh, she’s never heard her name be that drawn out but Rost has a talent for it. “I can’t tell you what something is worth,” he taps at her collarbone twice before standing up, “to you.”

They don’t speak anymore after that, Rost nudging her along after passing her a stick to lean on.

She bites her tongue the whole way through, because that, that wasn’t an answer at all.

x

The workshop is eerie.

There’s no other way to describe it. The shadows creeping along the walls, cast by the glow of machines that she’s not entirely sure what their function is.

(Sylens had said it was hers.

But standing in a dark, dark cave surrounded by recordings of Sylens and Hades and oh, the few she’s found of Elisabet, it doesn’t feel much like her own.

Sylens didn’t separate her from Elisabet.

But she can’t blame him. She is the ghost of someone long gone anyway.)

She takes a steady breath, finger tapping away the recording and shrugging off the chill that’s settled over her at the grating, computerized voice of Hades.

(Hindsight is one thing, but how did Sylens not know something was up?

A machine putting out a signal in the middle of the woods turned god overnight. All in the name of knowledge.

How many lives could have been saved if that army hadn’t been created?

She thinks of Rost and Vala and the countless others she didn’t know and the data point breaks in her hands.)

Elisabet’s voice is a smoothing timber as she climbs through the ruins of Gaia prime. She’s almost starting to understand some of her humor now, letting off a small laugh in time with Elisabet that echoes through the caves.

It’s almost like she has someone at her side.

She stops at that, brushing the snow from the top of her head and, “I need to get out more.”

It’s comforting though, hearing someone else as she steps back into the main room. The air isn’t as stale as it was the first time, no rush as she stepped in but the uneasy stillness.

She needs this area to work in. All the data files she’s found and Elisabet’s muttering in her ears points to it.

Gaia needs to rebuilt and she needs this room.

Elisabet begins to hum when she moves the first skeleton.

(They deserved better.

Preserving a new dawn for humanity only to be left in the dark. One man’s pride being their death.

They were good people.

She wouldn’t have wanted Rost to go unhonored, she won’t let them either.)

It takes a better part of the day, climbing the mountain to and fro and digging. It’s worth it though, leaning back as the sun sets and casts a glow on the rocks she managed to drag to the hill.

It’s not what they deserve, but it’s something.

x

“Who’s Issac?”

Her finger gets caught under the rope she’s trying to tie at Rost’s question, fumbles with it before shaking out her hand. “Who?”

“Issac. Who is that?” He taps her hand and then goes through with his motions again, nodding his head for her to do the same.

Oh. “It’s,” it’s what she plays on repeat every night. “No one,” she says finally.

“You mumble it in your sleep.” He takes the rope from her hands and pulls at it. “Good.” She stands a little straighter at that, falling though when he grabs her shoulder, his hand warm and light. “I was just worried. Whatever you were thinking about looked like it was disturbing your sleep.”

“I’m okay.” He sighs and nods, always accepting once she’s drawn the line. “Wait,” she blurts and grabs his hand as he steps away, “Were people-” She falters, bites down on her lip when the words fail.

“Yes?”

“Was anyone happy when I was born?”

Rost stills. Turns back to her slowly, and she almost stomps her foot, because she wishes he’d show an emotion for once. Anything. Something.

“Everyone is grateful for a new life to arise,” he says slowly. Recites, she thinks, because even though the Nora left him behind, he clings on to every passing second with their words.

“That’s not an answer.”

He tilts his head to her, grey eyes shining in the sunlight with what she thinks is amusement. “That’s not the answer you wanted.”

“No. Yes.” She huffs. “Nevermind.”

They sit there in the growing sunlight as it filters through the trees in silence until-

“I wasn’t there, but,” and then he’s crouching down, hands cradling her face, and oh, he’s smiling, “I will always be grateful for that day.”

x

Some days, when her fingers are numb and her hands don’t feel like her own, she powers down her armor. Feels the bite of ravagers and the burn of a barely dodged shot from a thunderjaw.

She just wants to feel something.

(Her.

Not the Anointed. Not the Seeker of the Nora.

Not Elisabet Sobeck.

Just her. Aloy.)

Vanasha finds her most days. Crouching down on the rocks and giving her a wicked smile as she notches another arrow. “What have you gotten yourself into this time little huntress?”

“Some help would be nice!”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Vanasha fights as she speaks, smooth and without a hint of hesitation. Darting forward whenever she backs away.

Aloy finds herself smiling despite the machines chasing them.

“You know,” Vanasha starts, dragging a finger along her bruised knuckles, “There are better ways to get a rush.”

She rolls her eyes, and oh, that just makes Vanasha smile more, teethy and bright.

“Why that face? I was only talking about needing help to get some rations delivered.” 

“Of course you were.”

They do. Not many people attack as broadly as they used to, the focus gleaming in the sun and glowing in the darkness. They’re smarter now, well- she thinks as she slams the blunt portion of her spear onto a bandit’s head- they try to be with ambushes in the dead of night.

Needless to say, it doesn’t work.

Vanasha thrives on it though. Giving her grins as they twist around arrows and purposely putting then back to back.

But through it all?

It’s fun.

(She can’t remember the last time she’d thought that.)

x

“Elisabet-”

“That’s not my name,” she interrupts sharply, stepping back from the panel as a hologram fizzles to life. It’s blinking in and out, but oh, there she is.

Gaia’s form stutters. “Forgive me.” Then brightens, “Query. Who are you then?”

“Aloy.”

“I see.” The hologram dissolves, flares to life again. “You look like- Hades. What has become of it?”

“Destroyed.” She steps forward, tries to give what she hopes is a comforting smile, “Your message wasn’t in vain, Gaia. I got it.”

“You defeated Hades?”

Aloy shakes her head. “The tribes came together. We all did.”

“That was. . unlikely.” Gaia smiles, and it’s the warmest this place has felt since she crawled over the edge of the cliff. “I knew you could do it.”

There’s so much she wants to say. That probabilities aren’t always the most reliable. That they still have so much to do with the functions astray. That maybe they should worry about Sylens who’d been off grid since Hades demise.

That she’s not Elisabet as much as Gaia might wish.

But with someone smiling at her and looking so full of pride, she asks what’s the next thing to do.

x

The whispers follow her everywhere.

The girl who saved the Sun King. Who saved them all.

None are quite so loud as those who first shunned her. It’s better now, after she has to ask every individual not to refer to her as the Seeker or the Anointed One.

Varl does it now because he thinks it’s funny.

Despite their- now less apparent- worship of her, they still avoid her. Once an outcast and now spoken to by the All Mother, not many dare to talk to her.

Someone tugs on her arm.

Except the children.

“Is the spear or bow better?”

“Um.” Another tug on her hand, this time towards the group of them that always smile, big and bright, at her. “Neither? It depends. I use my bow more often though. Probably.”

There’s a chorus of shouts and cheers.

“Told you so.”

“I said both, you just didn’t listen.”

“It’s just my personal opinion,” Aloy says hopelessly over the rising voices. A chuckle behind her sounds.

“It’s no use Aloy.” Teersa quirks her lips at the kids, “Every time you visit, you work them up.”

“I don’t mean to.”

She’s waved off. “They’d fight about something if not you.”

She spends the day being dragged along. They beg for her to act out her adventures or show them the absolute bestest way to make a bow, you have to know. Until the sun sets, and she’s about to leave when Teersa grabs her hand.

“I believe we’re all ready for a good story Aloy.”

She glances over the campfire, sees the Nora that have gathered around and nods.

“Did you know I once knew the greatest Nora to ever live?”

One child leans forward, mouth agape and, “Who?”

“He took me in and saw to my training personally-”

“And you’re the best, so he has to be the- the best of the best.”

She nods. “He was.”

“Who was it?”

“Rost.”

(She may not be able to follow him, but she can make for damn certain that the memory he leaves behind is equal to the man.

Good and just and compassionate when no one else was.

She can do that much.)

x

“And this is like yours?”

Talanah stares down at the focus, flips it over in her hands.

“Yes.”

There’s a click and then Gaia’s voice sounds over her focus, “That’s not quite true Aloy. Your focus has-”

“Not now Gaia.” She waits until Gaia falls silent before looking back to Talanah. She’s giving her a confused look, but it’s almost normal after so many times of Gaia talking to her without anyone else being able to hear.

(It was Gaia’s idea. To give the others focuses to ensure contact over vast distances, Elisabet said strong friendships were important to the life course. She also decided that while others may have focuses, she would only converse with her.

She’s not sure if she should be honored or concerned by all the faith Gaia places in her.)

“To a certain extent,” she amends, because Gaia’s not wrong, “it doesn’t have everything I’ve scanned, but it’ll help you with machines.” She blinks down and picks at the tip of her finger. “It can also be used for communicating. If you want.”

“That’s- that’s amazing,” Talanah breathes, tinged with awe. “How did you- or just- how?”

“I had help.” She shrugs, “so if you ever need me, I’ll come or at least, I can get you some help.”

Talanah arches an eyebrow, but it’s playful. Bumps their hips together as Talanah walks them to her home. “While I admit your skill is impressive, you just worry about calling me when you need help.”

“Yes, oh great Sunhawk.” Talanah laughs, shouldering her way through to the lodge. Her chest fills with warmth, affection spilling over for these people who have come into her life. “Thank you. Honestly.”

The hug she doesn’t expect. It’s tight, hands grasping under the clips of her armor. The words though are familiar and bring such a calmness that she doesn’t even mind the clamber of the crowd.

“A hawk never abandons her thrush.”

It’s not often she visits the house she shared with Rost.

Too afraid to visit the house she considered for home so long to be empty, without long lessons or the dry humor she’d do anything to hear again.

After two years of silence, of traveling across the plains and through the snow, there’s laughter in it once again.

She’s sure it’s at Erend’s expense. Or at Varl’s embarrassment as Vanasha flirts with him relentlessly only for her signature grin to grow as their eyes meet from the window.

“Don’t take too long freckles.”

She pats the spear on her back and gives her a pointed look, the both of them laughing before she can even attempt to act like there’s any sort of intent behind it.

It’s nice. Having camaraderie. Having more than one person she cares about.

“You sure you don’t want some company,” Talanah asks, nodding her head. She clutches the furs closer to her, shakes out her shoulders.

“No but thank you.” She tries not to laugh, but oh, Talanah looks miserable. “There’s some more clothes inside if you’re cold.”

“I’m freezing. Out of everything I’m surprised you survived, it’s growing up in this never-ending winter.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Talanah doesn’t look convinced, so Aloy nudges her towards the house. “Go, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She doesn’t have to repeat herself, Talanah’s worry fading as fast as her warmth, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the snow behind her.

She takes a breath. Lets it out slowly.

“Query. Is this your father’s grave?”

“I-” She folds a hand over her chest, feels the subtle beat under her fingers. “Yeah, Gaia, it is.”

“My condolences Aloy.”

“Thank you.” Her breath fogs up in the air, swirling upwards before fading away. “Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.”

(There’s trust between them.

That she will do as Gaia asks with the faith it will be returned.

They’re partners. Step by step recreating stable foundations.)

“Hey Rost.” She bends down and skims her fingers over the stone. “I wanted to say hello.” She brushes away the weeds that are beginning to inch upwards. “And thank you.”

“Somehow,” she turns her head away, still can’t quite manage looking at the beads and necklaces when she’s so used to a scraggly beard over them, clear grey eyes above, “Somehow you knew what I still needed to learn. That there was more to me. Than me. A greater purpose. I think I found it.” She glances over her shoulder to the flickering lights of her home as her friends cast shadows within it. “With some help from good people. You would’ve liked them, I think.” She clears her throat, forces herself past the knot in her throat. “I’m helping others. Or, trying to at least. I can help. People, places, the world.”

(She thinks of destroying Hades. Of putting the functions back together, Gaia becoming more present every day.

Of bringing shards and medicine to those in Sunfall whenever she can, Vanasha at her side. Of drinking and nights she can’t clearly remember with Erend. Hunts with Varl, his genuine smile every time she gets a kill before him. Of Talanah’s steadfast support and understanding to loss.

She thinks of all she’s done. Big and small.)

“Just a little bit.”