Chapter Text
Seyka often jokes about that day. How she had initially set out to hunt Widemaws to repair her skiff, but had ended up capturing the heart of a Nora warrior instead.
It had begun inconspicuously enough, on an unremarkable afternoon punctuated with just another task that needed finishing, another malfunction that needed mending. If anything, it would give Seyka a chance to clear her head after what had been a long year. She had certainly had her fair share of surprises following the expedition, where, among other things, she had sailed the strange, unfamiliar waters beyond the Great Delta; had survived a ferocious typhoon that had separated the other half of the Quen fleet; and had finally made landfall on a hostile shore populated by rivers of fire and otherworldly machines.
All this before mentioning any of the perils that had awaited them upon setting up camp: the disappearance of her sister, the discovery of Diviner Vai’s broken and battered body on the shore, her decision to don his focus and, in doing so, incurring the wrath of Compliance . . .
After all that, she thought she had seen it all.
That is, until she looked up.
Aloy’s face crinkles up in a combination of amusement and embarrassment when she reminisces.
In her words, she had fallen hard -- first from the Sunwing (literally) -- and then from within (foolishly). It had been a strange stroke of luck, that of all the people she would practically crash-land into, it had been Seyka standing there on that beach. But when she lets herself think about that luck, and then how she, an outcast Nora girl, and Seyka, a Quen marine -- two young women from opposite sides of the world -- had managed to find their way to each other, her smile fades, and is replaced with something else.
Disbelief.
Awe.
The two feelings blur together, spurred on by a few words from a certain Sunhawk that she recalls more and more each day now.
“One day you’ll know what I mean.” Talanah’s voice echoes in her mind, as does the memory of Aloy’s own skeptical reaction. For the past two years, and her entire life before that, her whole world had been defined by moving from one goal to the next: first the Proving, then restoring Gaia, dealing with the Zeniths, and now Nemesis.
Cultivating a relationship had seemed so incredibly impossible that she had practically shoved aside the thought, buried it deep below a commitment to her personal mission. Yet despite all her convictions, she could not help but feel a small pill of longing when she thought of Talanah and Amadis, Varl and Zo, and all of the other young couples she had met on her journey. Each had found their way to the other. She feels foolish to admit that she had had her doubts, to admit that she ever cared in the first place. Still, she remembers the questions that had wormed in her mind: would she ever understand? Could she?
Aloy allows herself a soft smile now as she recalls even that uncertainty, that belief that she would always walk alone. But now, as her thoughts drift to a certain marine with long black hair inlaid with mother-of-pearl, as she feels her breath hitch in her throat, her pulse quicken, her palms dampen . . .
She finds she can hardly recognize herself.
Oh, Talanah. Never thought that day would come so soon, huh?