hey, my favorite babe! 💕 i know we got off on the wrong foot and all, yknow, with the stabbin and everything… but how about we give things a fresh start! second time’s the charm, right? 🥰
aw c’mon! i can’t be that unmemorable you’re breaking my heart over here 😞 what the heck you steal a girl’s wallet one time and she pretends you don’t exist! geez… 😩 don’t worry i didn’t take anything! well not much and before you get mad, you did stab me
[ She's never been one to concern herself with her looks— the world had maybe tried to level the playing field by letting her look the way she did with minimal effort. It had not done that however, and had perhaps contributed to her maligned personality.
It feels weird to be here so late in life— big, bloated, and unable to see the jungle growing just a few inches under her gigantic, bulbous stomach. Her hands instinctively reach for that spot 'She' always kicks (because Zero has definitively decided it's a girl). ]
I better bounce back after you.. stupid little bastard.
[ But despite that, a love so strong and sudden that it nearly cripples is her is what she feels when She kicks back. Still, It doesn't change the fact that this is the worst she's ever felt about her looks— her hair had grown down to her hips from the supplements Aloy forced down her throat, and in that time she could not be bothered to trim her hair but also refused to trust anyone else with the task. Her chest had already been the source of slight pains, but even moreso now that they were swollen and sensitive.
Her ass was huge now too, and Zero can't help but lament the lines and hanging weight of stretched skin; it was carved onto her skin forever now that the flower was gone.
And the most ironic thing of all: she's somehow she's hornier than she's ever been in her life. What a fucking joke.
Zero had not uttered a word of it, and Aloy had not touched her once in nearly 6 months. And for the first time in the time they've known each other, Zero was overly conscious of her body— concerned suddenly with modesty and never letting herself be seen naked.
When the door to the room opens (wood bending underneath a boot gives her a head start) she is quick to tie her robe. ]
You wanna' learn to fucking knock? All it takes is one surprise and then it's piss city.
[The past several months have left Aloy outside of her depth. In the absence of a traditional family, she's found herself floundering, trying to figure out how to build one on her own. Observation of others had often been her method, but Zero eschews expected tradition. When Aloy tries to mimic what she's seen of wives and husbands, putting a hand on Zero's back to steady her, or hovering in worried, subdued panic at pregnancy illnesses and mishaps, Zero is resistant and sometimes outright surly. She shies away from her touch like a skittish fox. She seems, Aloy thinks, preoccupied with the changes in her body, miserable over bouts of morning sickness and nausea, how hard it was to get comfortable with the added weight and awkwardness of the life growing inside of her. But Aloy is enraptured by the changes. She thinks she's beautiful; she glows. Zero seems like something born from nature: like the goddess the Nora believed in so ardently.
She doesn't mean to startle her today, but of course she does, and she feels a little crestfallen over it and the hurried motion she sees of Zero tying her robe, like a kid who had just been scolded. Varl had admitted her that during some moments in Zo's pregnancy, he was certain that she blamed him personally for the misfortune of it.
Aloy knows how he feels. ]
Sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you. [In the back of her mind, she scolds herself too, for not thinking to knock.] I got that boar jerky you wanted yesterday. [A peace offering.] Caught the trader just as he was heading north. Feeling up to it today?
[ The silence between them is the first flash of lightning that night.
They both move as fast as they can without running to find shelter for the night, though Zero doubts either are desperate for cover because of the weather. It is a long walk to the shelter about a mile and a half away (if it can be called that- Zero had complained, it was basically just a tent pitched up where no one can hear you) but they make it in record time. When they both stumble in (rain patters against the hyde and canvas roof above them - it is barely much taller than Aloy herself) they are sopping wet from the storm. Zero's teeth chatter as she pulls off her outerwear, all of it ten pounds heavier and requires more backwards force than she is capable of. The alien bond between them chooses a perfect time to glitch and cut short, pulling Zero backwards as she tries in vain to pull her tunic off.
Zero falls toward Aloy unintentionally; any other time it wouldn't be anything of note, in the time they've spent together a strange familiarity had developed between them. Never had they embraced, or held hands, nothing two lovers would do. However they had no qualms sleeping beside one another, often pressed up against one another or tangled together. They groomed one another- not really in the way female friends might primp one another- but like mated animals, performing some bonded ritual.
It was alien, and it was fucking weird. But Zero embraced it, maybe even started it.
(It made her feel insidious. Like she was stealing something.)
Zero stands there silently, half out of her clothes, and when Aloy sounds like she has moved on, she finally speaks. ]
I'm not getting out of the way until I get out of this.
[ Their blankets and sleeping bags were on the other side of the tent, just past Zero. ]
[Thunder rumbles close enough to make the earth tremble beneath their hurried footsteps. It and the wind shake the treetops overhead, and Aloy’s head briefly lifts to see them sway precariously, pulled backward against their will. She catches a cold blue glow, a bright flash of metal in the dark. There were machines in the branches — Clamberjaws, by her reckoning, unaffected by the weather, forever unsleeping and watchful.
She’s been quiet all day, responding in a neutral murmur at Zero’s complaints about the lean-to shelter that shifts unsteadily, buffeted by the wind. It’s dry enough to serve their needs, and even if it wasn’t, Aloy’s too brooding and distracted to care. They had survived worse nights, and so would survive this one. Only once she feels the telltale snag of their binding does she turn, catching Zero in her arms by weary instinct. Her gaze is distant. She’s still thinking about the village from earlier, how the plague had covered everything in a blanket of poisonous red foliage, left spores too thick to breathe through without coughing. How many of those villages and settlements they’d passed like this in the past couple of weeks of travel, and how it reminded her again of the time she had, how much of it was being wasted.
Zero’s tired demand brings her back to earth, if only for a moment. Their closeness was not unusual, becoming little more of a footnote throughout their day to day — a bizarre and symbiotic existence. Aloy had never been so close to anyone before, not even Rost, and yet she feels distance all the same, that barrier that seemed to always separate her from others made more evident by the physical contact she and Zero were always forced to maintain.
Aloy gives the bedding a longing glance, and then her gaze flattens out — it was pointless to argue, she’d long since realized.] Yeah.
[It’s the first thing she’s said for hours. Her hands move by muscle memory, automatic and dispassionately removing Zero’s tunic for her. Zero’s skin is cool and clammy, even against her rain-soaked gloves. She tries to ignore it, and finds herself saying anyway:] You need to sit in front of the fire after this. If you get sick, we’ll have to stay sheltered for days.
[ There was a sense of foreboding the days before- growing pains, nothing either of them thought couldn't be resolved. So that's why Zero had thought very little of the fact that Aloy left before it was resolved. She'd almost made the mistake of looking away as Aloy left, attentions focused elsewhere, dismissive. And Aloy did what Zero assumed she would do the next time this happened: Aloy had sighed, marched to her side to plant a kiss on her temple before she really left.
'We'll talk about it later, okay? Pickup when I call.'
Zero'd spat 'Whatever.' but she'd at least had the sense to turn around in time to see Aloy's withering smile.
Hours, and then half a day- the others had not heard from her, and the tracking of Aloy's focus had been spotty, darting nervously around the map projected in front of her. The two of them left not very long after that but they should have left sooner. Days and days of surveying the same area, calling in favors and broadcasts from every source and acquaintance imaginable- only then did they finally find her things and no trace of Aloy.
She remembers very little of the days between that and when they'd received the distress signal from the Nora temple-the very same had birthed Aloy. Beta explained most of it to her in between struggling breathes (her face growing increasingly red), but truthfully Zero hadn't listened and didn't care. Aloy stood before them, a replica of herself age 5. Beta struggles to gulp behind her and Zero holds her breath, caught between elation (the intensity and ecstasy the same as if she'd birthed this child herself) and anguish (because she understood now- she'd lost her reason for being). The two things together net 0, and Zero swings between misery and mania in one full swoop only to end back where she was before Aloy had left them.
Zero holds Aloy's hand, and presses her prosthetic palm to Beta's cheek knowing the cool material will be a balm to her miserably warm face.
'Get a fucking grip.' ]
Got a second?
[ Zero hang's in the corner of Beta's lab, hip resting on the door frame- half in and half out.
She enters fully, and removes something from between her shawls with the utmost care. ]
I'd say I forgot I had this, but that'd be a lie. I took it, but it's yours.
[ It's Elisabet's necklace, the world on the end of a silver rope.
[She had always known something like this would happen, on some level. Statistically, the odds were insurmountable— only Aloy’s stalwart bravery, her irrepressible hope kept victory in reach. These traits inherited from their predecessor that Beta struggled to encompass, always feeling two steps behind Aloy, and with a gulf of centuries between herself and Dr. Sobeck.
But Aloy’s hope had been contagious. Her bravery too, a little bit — that steel in her spine that made her courageous enough to keep existential terror at bay. No second guessing, she'd told Beta, once, watching her struggle with a stubborn bit of GAIA's code. You know the answer; you're the smartest person I know. If you have it down, then do it.
So she had, and lo and behold, it had worked. Now the Focus network that GAIA commanded was so well-fortified, even another round of Zeniths, even Sylens, or... or Tilda, would be hard pressed to break in. Maybe she had the head for it, but without hope, without bravery, without Aloy, where would she be? Even now, she struggles with the basic tenets of humanity, these skills stripped away from her by the Zeniths.
And so of course, at the news Aloy was missing, she'd felt the first stirtings of panicked dread, had watched the map's jumpy, erratic Focus tracking with bleary eyes, trying in vain to sort out a pattern. She should've been able to get it down, to understand it. But it was impenetrable, and so when Zero decided to search, Beta, fearing the worst, had joined her. It wasn't unlike Aloy to be gone for days at a time, she tries to remember: she was always busy. Even the lack of a check-in was not a cause for alarm right away. But Beta had known. She'd read something once, in the limited archival data she'd been allowed to access. Something about twins experiencing physical distress when one had died. Physiology? Psychological? Most of the information had been anecdotal, and so she'd dismissed them outright. But in those horrible days of searching in sleepless terror for her sister, Beta had felt cold all over, even in desert heat, in cloying jungle humidity.
It had gotten worse when they'd arrived in Nora territory, and when she sees that - the clone - when the earth feels as if it's been pulled from under her, at last a wave of prickling heat hits her. She can't breathe, can hardly speak. Gone, she was gone. After all that struggle to find one another, the isolation and grief, and now it was back again. What would she do now? How could she go back to that? She'd rather die, is the thought that comes immediately. She'd sooner die than go back to that mockery of living.
Zero's cool hand on her cheek brings her back to the waking world, and she stares up at her with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. The little girl's brow is furrowed, and she asks if she's okay. Beta tries to smile. She says that she's fine.
In the year since, she's been working tirelessly, eating only when Zero physically yanks her away from a task, barely sleeping. She loses weight. Gets dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She avoids the others, and she can't stand to go near Aloy's things, hates even to see them. She avoids looking directly at the... the other clone's eyes. She sleeps on a pallet she's made at GAIA's portable console. It helps calm her to know that she's there somewhere: this final being connecting her with Aloy and Elisabet.
She's been trying to figure out how it happened. Surely the third clone didn't just pop up out of thin air. Surely she couldn't be Aloy. That was impossible; Aloy had to be somewhere. She only had to find her. This is what her mind centers on obsessively now. It's funny: it's a little how she'd felt before her escape from the Zeniths. Always half-awake, disappearing into herself, only thinking of a way out. It was easier to survive this way. Hope had proven too fragile.
She had to be pragmatic. She had to be like Elisabet.
She barely looks up at the sound of Zero's voice, but she waves her in, a quick and impatient flutter of her hand. Her Focus display is flicked away in a second, abrupt gesture. The last thing she needed was Zero asking her what she was working on. She doesn't know why that is, only knows that it would not go over well. There's a cold mug of tea at her desk, long forgotten. She pushes scrolls and documents off a nearby chair to give Zero space to sit.]
Not too busy. Is something wrong?
[She always asked that first. When Zero instead shows her the necklace, the fragile little globe that had survived the total annihilation of life on earth, say nothing of Aloy's hard living, Beta stares at it for a long time.]
... Oh. [She says, at last, her voice small. She feels it again, that horrible ache threatening to break through the gray cloud of empty apathy that she protected herself with now.] Yes, I-I suppose it is. [Another pause.] Thank you.
[Her gaze darts away from Zero's, feeling both skittish, and like she wanted to cry, which were both... not ideal. Especially not around Zero. She tries to distract herself, gingerly taking hold of the necklace, feeling its weight. It's cold under her fingertips. She wants to throw it into the nearby wall. Instead she carefully sets it to the side, next to her tea.
She had to talk about something that wasn't the globe. The idea of a discussion around the possession of these two (dead mother, dead sister) missing people is too much. So she focuses instead on data. About what? The girl, of course. The other clone. Zero adored her. It would be an ideal distraction.]
I've been running her through some of my old vocabulary and history lessons. She's um, really catching on. It's something else. I mean, it's unsurprising, given that she's genetically no different from Elisabet. [Or Aloy, or herself, which is something she never says.] She's outpacing even my projections, however. She'll be at college grade algebra and literature in no time at all.
ENCLOSUREυ - MEMORIAL GROVE Tenakth Lowlands were beautiful and lush when you were flying overhead. Walking or riding in them was something altogether different, and the both of them are in a state by the time they push their way into yet another densely packed cospe of trees and winding undergrowth, guaranteed to make even sure-footed travelers lose their balance. Aloy’s not seen this part of the Lowland jungle, and GAIA’s periodic updates had begun to go spotty the deeper into it that they went.
Besides that, she’s gotten them woefully lost and had been too stubborn to admit it, and Zero had given her an earful about being a know-it-all before going quiet, as if in defiance, which in turn made Aloy terse and sullen. This was supposed to be their first little foray out together since the baby, and it had already taken forever and a day to get her out here to begin with, the journey plagued with incidents like this due largely to her pride. As they travel, she stops being annoyed at Zero and more annoyed at herself. She’d had to call in every favor she had under the sun to make Zero feel secure enough to leave their child alone in the first place. Luckily, she’d gathered a number of them even while she’d been at home. Even Sylens is involved — having conspired some way of keeping Mother's Embrace free of anything but the most docile of machines for about a ten mile perimeter until she and Zero returned from their sabbatical. He does not tell her how he manages this, and she doesn't ask, ignoring the prickle of discomfort at seeing him talk over it with Beta later, their voices lowered.
She's finding that she's gained a lot in having a family, more than she had dreamed, but there were parts of her adventures that she missed, and had felt the loss acutely in her time building them a home. So, some of those instincts, honed after years of training, they don't come as easily after more than a year of… of just being normal. Doing normal things. That's how they'd gotten lost, she reasons. She had to admit it to herself now: she’s way off her game. She'd been sure the clearing she’d been looking for to camp in had been around here, and she’d wanted enough distance between them and a Tenakth settlement to properly surprise her with the gift she'd been working on for ages, in secret and with very little feedback.
This part of the jungle is so unfamiliar though, that for a moment she forgets they're in the lowlands at all. The first thing she’s aware of before she even notices the faint magenta haze that seems to surround the area, is that the temperature goes from oppressively humid to cool. That would have to be from the massive, interwoven network of tree branches that arc overhead, obscuring most of the sun’s rays and allowing her to see only patches of darkening blue sky between their laced roots. The earth under her feet is a little damp, soft without giving way to mud and cold water, and she glances down to see veiny lines of lichen and moss pushing up through dark brown earth. It almost seems to glow.
She kneels to take a closer look. There were flowers growing there, powder pink, magenta, electric blue, and almost too small for her to see right away, dotting this network of mossy veins like starbursts. The air smells… wonderful. She has no idea of what kind of flower could be making it, but there’s… life everywhere. More than she’s expecting, even. Besides whatever massive tree was responsible for this nature-made enclosure (trees? a network, she thinks? she’d had an astounding amount of time to read about these subjects during her. well. maternity leave), she can see hanging vines in the distance, a burst of tropical flowers here, the drooping and enormous leaf of a pitcher plant hanging overhead there. Birds with feathers every color of the rainbow. From one winding vine, bellflowers in virginal shades of white and pale pink bob their heads. She can hear the trickle of a stream a few meters ahead, and she’s certain the distant roar of a waterfall as well.
“Incredible… this haze, and that smell. Pollen, I’m guessing?”
Whatever disappointment and frustration that had overtaken her during their convoluted travel is quickly replaced by awe. The wonder on her face is almost childlike as she looks around, trying to take all of it in. “…What is this place? GAIA?”
A garbled, sputtering message follows: ”Apologies — loy. You’re — beyond — current range.”
“Beyond your range?”
”—Areas - are being built — facilitating introduction — propagation - ARTEMIS…”
“GAIA?” She spares a glance to Zero over her shoulder for a moment, concerned. “Hey, GAIA, can you hear me?”
Aloy taps on her Focus, then removes it altogether, frowning at the strange color emanating from it. She'd never seen that light before, on any machine or Old World detritus. It's a vivid pink, and the light pulses in time like a heartbeat. More urgently, she repeats herself: “GAIA. Come in.”
A few tense seconds pass. Eventually, GAIA’s voice returns after a burst of fuzzy static from both her Focus and Zero’s own. “I apologize, Aloy.” If a machine could sound sheepish, GAIA’s certainly sounding close to it. “You’ll return to proper — range once you pass through your current location. — Environment is safe. — an offshoot of earlier - proposed design by ARTEMIS - DEMETER. This is the reason for any overgrowth you see. - area’s original purpose was for the — propagation of new animal and plant species, much like - Cauldrons. — Repurposing design for further — evolutionary — development. - normal Focus range will be implemented when - area is completed.”
“So, a biological Cauldron? That would explain the megaflora. And it’s safe? We’ll be fine if we wait out the evening here?”
”Area - is meant to reintroduce - to Earth’s ecosystem without danger. You and Zero will be safe.”
“Okay.” Aloy breathes out slowly, and then with more assurance repeats: “Okay.” Finally she turns to Zero again, her expression sheepish and apologetic. “Shadows are getting long. This is as good of a place as any to stay ‘til morning. And GAIA says it’s safe. She’s been working a lot since we’ve been gone.”
When Aloy had initially proposed this idea - a break, just for a few days, by themselves and back out west Zero's answer had been a big, fat, definitive NO, N-O (and she'd said it like that exactly). It had taken weeks to wear her down, and in the end the only one of them who'd managed to have any sway was Zo, who was both her confidant in motherhood and unspoken sister in arms (between the strange Nora traditions and partner who extended themselves too thin in the name of duty). One of her stipulations had been that they would big brain a way for her to keep track of their child at all times and Beta being Beta had delivered; Zero is oblivious to the wonders of nature and all that - her attentions remain honed in on the digital display projected from her focus: numbers, vitals, and most importantly a little digital heart that beat in time with their child's own.
This new Focus ability had also been a great distraction when Aloy had finally pissed her off to the point of silent treatment - 'Fine, if you're not going to listen I guess I'll shut the fuck up - and shut the fuck up she had, for hours now, communicating only in the way of glowering looks. She's hardly paying attention to their surroundings and definitely not listening to GAIA, too trouble by the fact that Beta's homebrewed baby monitor was cutting in and out. The feed has grown spotty, the numbers and display increasing and decreasing rapidly, becoming more and less transparent with every step Zero took forward or back, to the right or to the left.
Panic sets in, and because Zero is Zero, that panic gives away to anger simultaneously.
"The hell?!" She takes her Focus off too, glaring at the strange pink light emanating from it. She does her usual form of troubleshooting: turning it on and then off, and then smacking it against a tree. None of these things work, of course, and she is on the verge of an explosive meltdown when Aloy (unknowing of this) finally speaks to her directly.
Zero is livid, naturally.
"You screwed the pooch big time. And that's all you'll be screwing tonight." Zero manages, through gritted teeth (Beta had warned her during her pregnancy that she had incredibly high blood pressure for someone her size - she should avoid getting too worked up, lest she harm their child or herself). She has taken to counting backwards from ten to remedy this, and so that's what she does; Zero is silent for ten seconds exactly, and when she returns to the present she is normal Zero levels of surly despite the anger boiling her stomach acid into soup.
"You can stay here until next week for all I care. I'm going back to my fucking kid."
[ Her cough hasn't quite gone away, but she stands out in the early spring chill anyway- the snow is half-melted leaving puddles of mud and splotches of yellow green grass all around Mother's Heart. Ivy, with her incredibly limited vocabulary and Zero's own intuition, had worked together to discover that this evening's migraine inducing tantrum had been because Aloy would be coming home soon and she absolutely needed to greet her outside.
She knows Aloy will scold her for it. But if she had to choose between a toddler's screaming and a compromised immune system, she'd choose the latter ten out of ten times. They spent the cooler months at the base usually. The scar's of Zero's sickness had never truly gone away and she was prone to illness.
But again she'd been brought to a crossroads: Take care of two children under five by herself, or suffer through a winter out east but with help. Often when Aloy was gone for this long Zero would accompany her or travel to Meridian with Alana. Traveling with one infant had been doable, traveling with a child and an infant was panic inducing.
Ivy will not allow Zero to hold her, but she demands they hold hands. When Aloy's figure is finally visible from further down the hill she raises her hand and flexes her fingers- the prequel to an actual wave. Zero almost forgets this infant has been the bane of her existence for the last two months.
Ivy tugs and whines, again not wanting to let go of Zero's hand but very clearly wanting to propel the both of them forward. She gives in, and once they're in talking distance Ivy fights Zero's grip and Zero concedes.
Ivy hobbles toward Aloy. ]
Well you're a sight for sore eyes.
[ With age their reunions have become less fraught, much warmer. ]
[Snowmelt further north in Banuk territory had waylaid her, making travel along rivers treacherous even for her, and the winter's last blizzards always hit the Cut hardest, out of all the tribal territory. Even though she was venturing out less often, and not as far away these days, with Zero and two little children at home, the Nora's Anointed and the savior of Meridian herself could not fight off weather. Feeling homesick's still something she's getting used to, and talk of the new machines in the mountains, while curiosity-sating, could not distract her from it. She's grateful when the weather breaks enough to make her way back to Nora land, as always with her customary trinkets for her family. Rich Banuk dyes for Zero, a shawl for Beta, who had never taken well to the cold snaps even as spring began to creep in. Little toys for the girls: a Grazer doll for Ivy to teeth on, a puzzle for Alana to preoccupy herself with. She hops off her Strider before her youngest can toddle right into metal limbs, and catches her midway, easily swinging her into her arms with a "hup!" She tucks her into the crook of her arm, unmindful of the way that her face is patted at and tugged by chubby little hands.
Aloy's smile is warm and relieved. She leans forward to press a kiss to Zero's temple.]
The same to you. [A moment later, and her expression sobers some.] You didn't come out here just for me, did you? You'll both catch a chill.
[ In the summer women are sent to the sea to refrain their senses.
That's why the brothel was always busiest during the hottest time of the year. She remembers her patrons smugly claiming their wives were hysterical and would be momentarily cured by the smell of salt and crashing of waves. And in that voice that they loved, Rose would remark she'd never seen the ocean.
Zero's room is dark. It had been decorated in a fashion that her husband and master (as the vows had called him— she had of course been sedated by magic and medicine both to get through the ceremony) had deemed suitable for a bride and tool of her status and stature. It mirrored her suite in his main home— a castle passed down from tyrant to tyrant, the very same girls her age had once dreamed of visiting, hoping to be saved from their miseries by becoming a courtesan to someone who mattered. The only difference between this room and that one was the sea breeze and distant sounds of waves crashing against cliff and sand.
Zero sits underneath the canopy of her bed, covers drawn over her head like a silk tent. The smell of herbs and smoke pervade through the room and the earthy smoke is already billowing up toward the vaulted ceiling.
She's been at this for while, when her watchdog and designated companion enters the room. She's not supposed to be doing this, but she doesn't seem to care. After all, what was the worst she could do? Tell her mother?
Of all of the king's advisors that woman was the most unsavory. All of this had been her idea after all— that man otherwise wouldn't have the gall or brainpower to trap her like this. ]
[At the door to her lady's quarters, Suletta hesitates, her hand frozen where it's poised to gently rap at the door and announce her arrival. She waits there for a long time it seems, though it's only a few moments, because she's trying to gather herself. Her mother told her not to worry when she lamented (after several attempts at feigning cheer) that her presence was barely tolerated, sometimes not at all. The woman, her mother said, for all the finery she'd been lavished with, all the gems and pretty rooms and beautiful dresses, was not a woman at all. There was no need then to be frightened of her, or to be concerned with her disdain. She only needed to bear it a little longer. And she could do that, couldn't she? Surely she could, for her dear mother.
Of course she could. She loved her mother. And if her mother wanted her to do such a small thing, then... yes, she could bear it. She would bear it. It was no trouble at all to bear it.
In front of her, the stately door blurs before the image rights itself again. Suletta takes a deep breath, then as she always does, she knocks at the door before entering. This too was unnecessary, but it seemed so rude to barge in, to assert herself in someone's space without permission. The sickly sweet odor of herbs and smoke hits her before she's even in the room properly. She quickly shuts the door, shrouding them both in the oppressive cloak of darkness. Suletta hears herself saying:]
Hello, miss!
[In a cheery and robotic way as she sets to righting the mess in the room. Clothing strewn about, things overturned. Suletta works quickly and efficiently, even though the smoke makes her feel queasy and lightheaded. She doesn't complain, though she breezes by the conspicuous shape under the blankets and opens one of the windows to let the smell of sea salt and fresh air in. With her back turned away from her lady, she can take greedy gulps of air until the dizzy feeling goes away. She feels less clammy, momentarily refreshed. At last her gaze falls toward the bed, and her brow knits. Her hands twist anxiously, and she approaches with the caution of someone prepared to dart away at any moment.]
Are...
Are you hungry? Can I get you anything at all? You um... well, I noticed you didn't come down for breakfast, so I thought I would check on you.
Miss Rose, I hope that you're having a wonderful day! If not I hope that this will cheer you up. Ehe, it's cute, isn't it? It's like she's dancing! Is the hotel suite OK? I didn't have the time to check in yesterday. Our staff is very good, but I usually take a look myself for special circumstances like this. Please accept my apologies. Oh, do you prefer Zero? I'm sorry. I wasn't sure. ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ) Is it confusing to have a stage name? Thank you again for agreeing to the performance on such short notice. The children will be so excited! Please let me know if I can help with any other arrangements for your stay. *(*´∀｀*)☆
In the starless dark of night they travel quickly, creating stark and exaggerated silhouettes as they pass briefly through the orange sodium glow of streetlights. She remembers most of this in fragmented pieces: being led in the rain until the little town turned to dirt roads. Mud that caked in the creases of her jeans. A woman grasping her numb fingers, then yanking with a grip like iron, her palm as pale and cold as new frost. The rain grew more aggressive, became needlelike and freezing, though this cold was nothing compared to the cold that made Allison tremble like there was no blood in her veins. The stranger is of little comfort: when Allison falters, she tugs her with sharp finality, refusing to let her stop. Was something after them? No. They were looking for someone. For something, and it was close enough that the hairs on the back of Allison's neck stood at attention.
Or had that been a few evenings before?
When they'd arrived at the graveyard was when her memory began to go fuzzy, become tattered at the corners. Indistinct. She knows they must have dug up the coffin, because in the morning (?) after her nails had hardened dirt under them, gray muck that crumbled easily beneath the pressure of her fingertips, and her shirt was streaked with mud. She remembers being handed the crowbar, the metal so cold that it almost stuck to her hands. She remembers the eyes of that thing opening, as bright and as unnatural as the sodium lamps they'd traveled beneath. The whistle of air behind her ear as the woman drove something sharp into the heart of the creature, and the horrible noise afterward, high and agonizing enough to make her ears pop, as if she were in the pressurized cabin of a jet.
She remembers thinking: good.
After this, she remembers very little at all. Pain most often, which ruled her, a pain like dying. Being cold all the time, feeling empty. Feeling hungry. She thought she should go home, though she could not remember where that was in her current state, because the only place she did know was this old and poorly lit house, where all the furniture was covered in white sheets that reminded her of funeral shrouds. Funny: she could remember those, little snippets of fact and memory, but any attempt at grasping a more substantial thought brought with it more pain, a feeling like hands digging into her skull and pulling it apart. She existed in this state for hours? Days? Weeks, perhaps, the only constant beyond the hunger, pain and confusion being the woman, who would sometimes sit beside her in unsettling quiet, or leave in the night, only to return late in the evening, sometimes dragging something heavy behind her.
In the days before, Allison had refused whatever this was, had been repulsed, but when the woman shakes her awake tonight, her throat is so dry that she can't force out much of anything but a dull death-rattle. She's tired and thirsty, she wants to say. She wants to be left alone. When she tries to push back, she is struck by the sight of what she begins to realize, in a slow-growing dread, is her own hand. Her skin, desiccated,, bruised gray and bone white, the veins beneath her near translucent skin blue-black. It trembles in the moonlight like an old woman's.
Allison lets it fall to her side. Even this slight movement takes incredible effort on her part. When had she ever been this weak? This cold and frail? Had something happened? She tries to ask the woman this, though again the sounds crackle and die in her throat.
The self-loathing is always there and was even before she became as inhuman as she actually felt, finally having a body that matched this sentiment was just oddly comforting.
Getting into the house is easy. All she has to do is use a key.
It's dark inside and since she's managed to come home earlier than usual. So, she indulges; Rose parts the blackout curtains just enough that the moonlight can filter through the sheer curtains in front of them. Thin beams trickle into the dark room and it's not enough to look like anything but dust from glass, but Rose hopes its something to Allison who has not left this house in nearly a month.
The man she brought back with her is still groaning near the living room door, bleeding out slowly on the hardwood floor.
"Shit."
She's frowning, mad at herself for being messy. It was hard to have much restraint in this specific case. Something to deal with later: for now she focuses on Allison, stirring in the nest of old quilts that Rose had set up for her. With her heels still on and her party dress still warm with flesh blood Rose gets on her knees and pulls Allison into her arms, her expression almost quivering at the sight of her. She'd be shitting dust if she could shit at all - seeing her so weak was the strangest of these nightmares.
Trying to fill the gap with other indulgences worked for awhile- sex, desserts, red meat and iron rich food. But the sickness ate and ate and ate, and now it was feeding on Allison.
"Hey." Her voice is quiet. "You're going to hate me after, I don't care." Her hands are as dirty as her dress; Rose presses her fingers to her lips and puckers them, spreading the red all over her mouth.
"We're-" The man groans, miserable with the last ounces of his pain. Rose snaps her head around and snarls.
"CAN IT." He makes no more noise. Rose turns her attention back to Allison, face soft again.
"We're gonna' work our way up- too much right away and it'll shock your system. Make you go septic." She props Allison against her so that all of her weight rests upon Rose. Usually, she would struggle to pull such a feat but Rose lifts her like its nothing at all.
She presses her thumb against Allison's mouth, watching as it makes her stir.
"It's going to feel worse before it feels better- no one to blame but yourself for that."
[ This is the first time in some time that she hasn't been able to travel with Aloy. Alana was easy to bring along, she'd found, as long as she stayed strapped to someone's back. If they stayed behind it was by Zero's choice.
She debates calling Aloy, but in the end decides the dread is easier to hide via text. ]
Your kid is mad you wouldn't take her with you.
She misses the city.
[ Alana is three and for better or worse, talkative and has a vocabulary larger than most adults.
Genius genes, she supposes. But unfortunately all that brain hasn't kept her from wetting the bed. That combined with the fact that she was more prone to tantrums when alone with Aloy meant that she was probably better off not following her mother along to a political summit that decided the fate of thousands of people. ]
[The message over Focus comes through as Aloy is fielding a stream of excited questions from a few of the newer Tenakth Marshalls — they always want to hear about her battle with Regalla, which through the rumor mill had somehow transformed into her fighting a horde of machines single handed. She's grateful to be pulled away from it, already reaching her limit of social interactions, her head ducked as she shuffles through the crowd to find somewhere quiet.]
She can take my place if she wants, next time. I'd rather be at home.
Over the decades she's learned to find fulfillment in things more minute than survival. Her self-expression, her music, being a mother most of all.
But the house was up there. Zero had an affinity for the water, the ocean especially. It was nostalgic and oddly calming. It'd been a months long process, the blueprints themselves a gift from Aloy to commemorate their many years together.
The floors were made from shiny blue tile imported from the Quen mainland, walls washed in plain neat white making it stick out among the many ornate Quen structures. Every piece of furniture was purchased over time, some were even gifts - she'd become something of a stylistic tastemaker.
The problem however is that it was small. There was only one bedroom and their daughters had been (begrudgingly) assigned pallets on the floor.
She was kind of pissed at them, so she doesn't feel bad about it in this moment.
Zero is already cocooned in their bed, scrolling mindlessly through stupid videos on her Focus, when Aloy enters she peaks out from under her blankets.
Age, or her new lifestyle has softened her features some. The angles of Zero's face are rounder now, and the intimidating aura she'd once projected has worn away like a knife turned blunt from years of overuse.]
Did they let you have it again?
[ She's been trying to avoid her own spawn now that they've settled in their sleeping spots.
The lack of proper beds had only made them grouchier about the news. ]
Aloy has the harried, exhausted look of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders — and for once, this isn't literally the case, as much as it felt that way. She slips into the bedroom quietly, running a hand through her hair in a subdued gesture of distress. Her "retirement" has softened her too — mostly about the midsection, which had come as a surprise to her, and the graying in her hair, which had not.
Her gaze softens at the sight of Zero wrapped in blankets. This sort of burrowing instinct was a habit of hers that never ceased to be charming to Aloy. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.]
Yeah. Alana told me to "be reasonable." [The way Aloy's chin lifts at this, as if in response to a challenge, is familiar.] Honestly. They're acting like I told them I was coming out of retirement.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i already hate this
i know we got off on the wrong foot and all, yknow, with the stabbin and everything…
but how about we give things a fresh start! second time’s the charm, right? 🥰
*zero voice* zdaddy
o
who are you?
You need to be more specific
I stab a lot of people
i refuse to imagine her saying that
you’re breaking my heart over here 😞 what the heck
you steal a girl’s wallet one time and she pretends you don’t exist! geez… 😩
don’t worry
i didn’t take anything!
well not much
and before you get mad, you did stab me
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
So I did something a little impulsive.
[a moment passes.]
Very impulsive.
no subject
It's late
Even by your standards
The suspense better be because you fell asleep at the phone
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
It feels weird to be here so late in life— big, bloated, and unable to see the jungle growing just a few inches under her gigantic, bulbous stomach. Her hands instinctively reach for that spot 'She' always kicks (because Zero has definitively decided it's a girl). ]
I better bounce back after you.. stupid little bastard.
[ But despite that, a love so strong and sudden that it nearly cripples is her is what she feels when She kicks back. Still,
It doesn't change the fact that this is the worst she's ever felt about her looks— her hair had grown down to her hips from the supplements Aloy forced down her throat, and in that time she could not be bothered to trim her hair but also refused to trust anyone else with the task. Her chest had already been the source of slight pains, but even moreso now that they were swollen and sensitive.
Her ass was huge now too, and Zero can't help but lament the lines and hanging weight of stretched skin; it was carved onto her skin forever now that the flower was gone.
And the most ironic thing of all: she's somehow she's hornier than she's ever been in her life. What a fucking joke.
Zero had not uttered a word of it, and Aloy had not touched her once in nearly 6 months. And for the first time in the time they've known each other, Zero was overly conscious of her body— concerned suddenly with modesty and never letting herself be seen naked.
When the door to the room opens (wood bending underneath a boot gives her a head start) she is quick to tie her robe. ]
You wanna' learn to fucking knock? All it takes is one surprise and then it's piss city.
no subject
She doesn't mean to startle her today, but of course she does, and she feels a little crestfallen over it and the hurried motion she sees of Zero tying her robe, like a kid who had just been scolded. Varl had admitted her that during some moments in Zo's pregnancy, he was certain that she blamed him personally for the misfortune of it.
Aloy knows how he feels. ]
Sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you. [In the back of her mind, she scolds herself too, for not thinking to knock.] I got that boar jerky you wanted yesterday. [A peace offering.] Caught the trader just as he was heading north. Feeling up to it today?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
They both move as fast as they can without running to find shelter for the night, though Zero doubts either are desperate for cover because of the weather. It is a long walk to the shelter about a mile and a half away (if it can be called that- Zero had complained, it was basically just a tent pitched up where no one can hear you) but they make it in record time. When they both stumble in (rain patters against the hyde and canvas roof above them - it is barely much taller than Aloy herself) they are sopping wet from the storm. Zero's teeth chatter as she pulls off her outerwear, all of it ten pounds heavier and requires more backwards force than she is capable of. The alien bond between them chooses a perfect time to glitch and cut short, pulling Zero backwards as she tries in vain to pull her tunic off.
Zero falls toward Aloy unintentionally; any other time it wouldn't be anything of note, in the time they've spent together a strange familiarity had developed between them. Never had they embraced, or held hands, nothing two lovers would do. However they had no qualms sleeping beside one another, often pressed up against one another or tangled together. They groomed one another- not really in the way female friends might primp one another- but like mated animals, performing some bonded ritual.
It was alien, and it was fucking weird. But Zero embraced it, maybe even started it.
(It made her feel insidious. Like she was stealing something.)
Zero stands there silently, half out of her clothes, and when Aloy sounds like she has moved on, she finally speaks. ]
I'm not getting out of the way until I get out of this.
[ Their blankets and sleeping bags were on the other side of the tent, just past Zero. ]
no subject
She’s been quiet all day, responding in a neutral murmur at Zero’s complaints about the lean-to shelter that shifts unsteadily, buffeted by the wind. It’s dry enough to serve their needs, and even if it wasn’t, Aloy’s too brooding and distracted to care. They had survived worse nights, and so would survive this one. Only once she feels the telltale snag of their binding does she turn, catching Zero in her arms by weary instinct. Her gaze is distant. She’s still thinking about the village from earlier, how the plague had covered everything in a blanket of poisonous red foliage, left spores too thick to breathe through without coughing. How many of those villages and settlements they’d passed like this in the past couple of weeks of travel, and how it reminded her again of the time she had, how much of it was being wasted.
Zero’s tired demand brings her back to earth, if only for a moment. Their closeness was not unusual, becoming little more of a footnote throughout their day to day — a bizarre and symbiotic existence. Aloy had never been so close to anyone before, not even Rost, and yet she feels distance all the same, that barrier that seemed to always separate her from others made more evident by the physical contact she and Zero were always forced to maintain.
Aloy gives the bedding a longing glance, and then her gaze flattens out — it was pointless to argue, she’d long since realized.] Yeah.
[It’s the first thing she’s said for hours. Her hands move by muscle memory, automatic and dispassionately removing Zero’s tunic for her. Zero’s skin is cool and clammy, even against her rain-soaked gloves. She tries to ignore it, and finds herself saying anyway:] You need to sit in front of the fire after this. If you get sick, we’ll have to stay sheltered for days.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
'We'll talk about it later, okay? Pickup when I call.'
Zero'd spat 'Whatever.' but she'd at least had the sense to turn around in time to see Aloy's withering smile.
Hours, and then half a day- the others had not heard from her, and the tracking of Aloy's focus had been spotty, darting nervously around the map projected in front of her. The two of them left not very long after that but they should have left sooner. Days and days of surveying the same area, calling in favors and broadcasts from every source and acquaintance imaginable- only then did they finally find her things and no trace of Aloy.
She remembers very little of the days between that and when they'd received the distress signal from the Nora temple-the very same had birthed Aloy. Beta explained most of it to her in between struggling breathes (her face growing increasingly red), but truthfully Zero hadn't listened and didn't care. Aloy stood before them, a replica of herself age 5. Beta struggles to gulp behind her and Zero holds her breath, caught between elation (the intensity and ecstasy the same as if she'd birthed this child herself) and anguish (because she understood now- she'd lost her reason for being). The two things together net 0, and Zero swings between misery and mania in one full swoop only to end back where she was before Aloy had left them.
Zero holds Aloy's hand, and presses her prosthetic palm to Beta's cheek knowing the cool material will be a balm to her miserably warm face.
'Get a fucking grip.' ]
Got a second?
[ Zero hang's in the corner of Beta's lab, hip resting on the door frame- half in and half out.
She enters fully, and removes something from between her shawls with the utmost care. ]
I'd say I forgot I had this, but that'd be a lie. I took it, but it's yours.
[ It's Elisabet's necklace, the world on the end of a silver rope.
It has been a year now. ]
no subject
But Aloy’s hope had been contagious. Her bravery too, a little bit — that steel in her spine that made her courageous enough to keep existential terror at bay. No second guessing, she'd told Beta, once, watching her struggle with a stubborn bit of GAIA's code. You know the answer; you're the smartest person I know. If you have it down, then do it.
So she had, and lo and behold, it had worked. Now the Focus network that GAIA commanded was so well-fortified, even another round of Zeniths, even Sylens, or... or Tilda, would be hard pressed to break in. Maybe she had the head for it, but without hope, without bravery, without Aloy, where would she be? Even now, she struggles with the basic tenets of humanity, these skills stripped away from her by the Zeniths.
And so of course, at the news Aloy was missing, she'd felt the first stirtings of panicked dread, had watched the map's jumpy, erratic Focus tracking with bleary eyes, trying in vain to sort out a pattern. She should've been able to get it down, to understand it. But it was impenetrable, and so when Zero decided to search, Beta, fearing the worst, had joined her. It wasn't unlike Aloy to be gone for days at a time, she tries to remember: she was always busy. Even the lack of a check-in was not a cause for alarm right away. But Beta had known. She'd read something once, in the limited archival data she'd been allowed to access. Something about twins experiencing physical distress when one had died. Physiology? Psychological? Most of the information had been anecdotal, and so she'd dismissed them outright. But in those horrible days of searching in sleepless terror for her sister, Beta had felt cold all over, even in desert heat, in cloying jungle humidity.
It had gotten worse when they'd arrived in Nora territory, and when she sees that - the clone - when the earth feels as if it's been pulled from under her, at last a wave of prickling heat hits her. She can't breathe, can hardly speak. Gone, she was gone. After all that struggle to find one another, the isolation and grief, and now it was back again. What would she do now? How could she go back to that? She'd rather die, is the thought that comes immediately. She'd sooner die than go back to that mockery of living.
Zero's cool hand on her cheek brings her back to the waking world, and she stares up at her with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. The little girl's brow is furrowed, and she asks if she's okay. Beta tries to smile. She says that she's fine.
In the year since, she's been working tirelessly, eating only when Zero physically yanks her away from a task, barely sleeping. She loses weight. Gets dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She avoids the others, and she can't stand to go near Aloy's things, hates even to see them. She avoids looking directly at the... the other clone's eyes. She sleeps on a pallet she's made at GAIA's portable console. It helps calm her to know that she's there somewhere: this final being connecting her with Aloy and Elisabet.
She's been trying to figure out how it happened. Surely the third clone didn't just pop up out of thin air. Surely she couldn't be Aloy. That was impossible; Aloy had to be somewhere. She only had to find her. This is what her mind centers on obsessively now. It's funny: it's a little how she'd felt before her escape from the Zeniths. Always half-awake, disappearing into herself, only thinking of a way out. It was easier to survive this way. Hope had proven too fragile.
She had to be pragmatic. She had to be like Elisabet.
She barely looks up at the sound of Zero's voice, but she waves her in, a quick and impatient flutter of her hand. Her Focus display is flicked away in a second, abrupt gesture. The last thing she needed was Zero asking her what she was working on. She doesn't know why that is, only knows that it would not go over well. There's a cold mug of tea at her desk, long forgotten. She pushes scrolls and documents off a nearby chair to give Zero space to sit.]
Not too busy. Is something wrong?
[She always asked that first. When Zero instead shows her the necklace, the fragile little globe that had survived the total annihilation of life on earth, say nothing of Aloy's hard living, Beta stares at it for a long time.]
... Oh. [She says, at last, her voice small. She feels it again, that horrible ache threatening to break through the gray cloud of empty apathy that she protected herself with now.] Yes, I-I suppose it is. [Another pause.] Thank you.
[Her gaze darts away from Zero's, feeling both skittish, and like she wanted to cry, which were both... not ideal. Especially not around Zero. She tries to distract herself, gingerly taking hold of the necklace, feeling its weight. It's cold under her fingertips. She wants to throw it into the nearby wall. Instead she carefully sets it to the side, next to her tea.
She had to talk about something that wasn't the globe. The idea of a discussion around the possession of these two (dead mother, dead sister) missing people is too much. So she focuses instead on data. About what? The girl, of course. The other clone. Zero adored her. It would be an ideal distraction.]
I've been running her through some of my old vocabulary and history lessons. She's um, really catching on. It's something else. I mean, it's unsurprising, given that she's genetically no different from Elisabet. [Or Aloy, or herself, which is something she never says.] She's outpacing even my projections, however. She'll be at college grade algebra and literature in no time at all.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
making up hzd lore for [redacted]
Tenakth Lowlands were beautiful and lush when you were flying overhead. Walking or riding in them was something altogether different, and the both of them are in a state by the time they push their way into yet another densely packed cospe of trees and winding undergrowth, guaranteed to make even sure-footed travelers lose their balance. Aloy’s not seen this part of the Lowland jungle, and GAIA’s periodic updates had begun to go spotty the deeper into it that they went.
Besides that, she’s gotten them woefully lost and had been too stubborn to admit it, and Zero had given her an earful about being a know-it-all before going quiet, as if in defiance, which in turn made Aloy terse and sullen. This was supposed to be their first little foray out together since the baby, and it had already taken forever and a day to get her out here to begin with, the journey plagued with incidents like this due largely to her pride. As they travel, she stops being annoyed at Zero and more annoyed at herself. She’d had to call in every favor she had under the sun to make Zero feel secure enough to leave their child alone in the first place. Luckily, she’d gathered a number of them even while she’d been at home. Even Sylens is involved — having conspired some way of keeping Mother's Embrace free of anything but the most docile of machines for about a ten mile perimeter until she and Zero returned from their sabbatical. He does not tell her how he manages this, and she doesn't ask, ignoring the prickle of discomfort at seeing him talk over it with Beta later, their voices lowered.
She's finding that she's gained a lot in having a family, more than she had dreamed, but there were parts of her adventures that she missed, and had felt the loss acutely in her time building them a home. So, some of those instincts, honed after years of training, they don't come as easily after more than a year of… of just being normal. Doing normal things. That's how they'd gotten lost, she reasons. She had to admit it to herself now: she’s way off her game. She'd been sure the clearing she’d been looking for to camp in had been around here, and she’d wanted enough distance between them and a Tenakth settlement to properly surprise her with the gift she'd been working on for ages, in secret and with very little feedback.
This part of the jungle is so unfamiliar though, that for a moment she forgets they're in the lowlands at all. The first thing she’s aware of before she even notices the faint magenta haze that seems to surround the area, is that the temperature goes from oppressively humid to cool. That would have to be from the massive, interwoven network of tree branches that arc overhead, obscuring most of the sun’s rays and allowing her to see only patches of darkening blue sky between their laced roots. The earth under her feet is a little damp, soft without giving way to mud and cold water, and she glances down to see veiny lines of lichen and moss pushing up through dark brown earth. It almost seems to glow.
She kneels to take a closer look. There were flowers growing there, powder pink, magenta, electric blue, and almost too small for her to see right away, dotting this network of mossy veins like starbursts. The air smells… wonderful. She has no idea of what kind of flower could be making it, but there’s… life everywhere. More than she’s expecting, even. Besides whatever massive tree was responsible for this nature-made enclosure (trees? a network, she thinks? she’d had an astounding amount of time to read about these subjects during her. well. maternity leave), she can see hanging vines in the distance, a burst of tropical flowers here, the drooping and enormous leaf of a pitcher plant hanging overhead there. Birds with feathers every color of the rainbow. From one winding vine, bellflowers in virginal shades of white and pale pink bob their heads. She can hear the trickle of a stream a few meters ahead, and she’s certain the distant roar of a waterfall as well.
“Incredible… this haze, and that smell. Pollen, I’m guessing?”
Whatever disappointment and frustration that had overtaken her during their convoluted travel is quickly replaced by awe. The wonder on her face is almost childlike as she looks around, trying to take all of it in. “…What is this place? GAIA?”
A garbled, sputtering message follows: ”Apologies — loy. You’re — beyond — current range.”
“Beyond your range?”
”—Areas - are being built — facilitating introduction — propagation - ARTEMIS…”
“GAIA?” She spares a glance to Zero over her shoulder for a moment, concerned. “Hey, GAIA, can you hear me?”
Aloy taps on her Focus, then removes it altogether, frowning at the strange color emanating from it. She'd never seen that light before, on any machine or Old World detritus. It's a vivid pink, and the light pulses in time like a heartbeat. More urgently, she repeats herself: “GAIA. Come in.”
A few tense seconds pass. Eventually, GAIA’s voice returns after a burst of fuzzy static from both her Focus and Zero’s own. “I apologize, Aloy.” If a machine could sound sheepish, GAIA’s certainly sounding close to it. “You’ll return to proper — range once you pass through your current location. — Environment is safe. — an offshoot of earlier - proposed design by ARTEMIS - DEMETER. This is the reason for any overgrowth you see. - area’s original purpose was for the — propagation of new animal and plant species, much like - Cauldrons. — Repurposing design for further — evolutionary — development. - normal Focus range will be implemented when - area is completed.”
“So, a biological Cauldron? That would explain the megaflora. And it’s safe? We’ll be fine if we wait out the evening here?”
”Area - is meant to reintroduce - to Earth’s ecosystem without danger. You and Zero will be safe.”
“Okay.” Aloy breathes out slowly, and then with more assurance repeats: “Okay.” Finally she turns to Zero again, her expression sheepish and apologetic. “Shadows are getting long. This is as good of a place as any to stay ‘til morning. And GAIA says it’s safe. She’s been working a lot since we’ve been gone.”
She’s working her way up to apologizing.
no subject
This new Focus ability had also been a great distraction when Aloy had finally pissed her off to the point of silent treatment - 'Fine, if you're not going to listen I guess I'll shut the fuck up - and shut the fuck up she had, for hours now, communicating only in the way of glowering looks. She's hardly paying attention to their surroundings and definitely not listening to GAIA, too trouble by the fact that Beta's homebrewed baby monitor was cutting in and out. The feed has grown spotty, the numbers and display increasing and decreasing rapidly, becoming more and less transparent with every step Zero took forward or back, to the right or to the left.
Panic sets in, and because Zero is Zero, that panic gives away to anger simultaneously.
"The hell?!" She takes her Focus off too, glaring at the strange pink light emanating from it. She does her usual form of troubleshooting: turning it on and then off, and then smacking it against a tree. None of these things work, of course, and she is on the verge of an explosive meltdown when Aloy (unknowing of this) finally speaks to her directly.
Zero is livid, naturally.
"You screwed the pooch big time. And that's all you'll be screwing tonight." Zero manages, through gritted teeth (Beta had warned her during her pregnancy that she had incredibly high blood pressure for someone her size - she should avoid getting too worked up, lest she harm their child or herself). She has taken to counting backwards from ten to remedy this, and so that's what she does; Zero is silent for ten seconds exactly, and when she returns to the present she is normal Zero levels of surly despite the anger boiling her stomach acid into soup.
"You can stay here until next week for all I care. I'm going back to my fucking kid."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
She knows Aloy will scold her for it. But if she had to choose between a toddler's screaming and a compromised immune system, she'd choose the latter ten out of ten times. They spent the cooler months at the base usually. The scar's of Zero's sickness had never truly gone away and she was prone to illness.
But again she'd been brought to a crossroads: Take care of two children under five by herself, or suffer through a winter out east but with help. Often when Aloy was gone for this long Zero would accompany her or travel to Meridian with Alana. Traveling with one infant had been doable, traveling with a child and an infant was panic inducing.
Ivy will not allow Zero to hold her, but she demands they hold hands. When Aloy's figure is finally visible from further down the hill she raises her hand and flexes her fingers- the prequel to an actual wave. Zero almost forgets this infant has been the bane of her existence for the last two months.
Ivy tugs and whines, again not wanting to let go of Zero's hand but very clearly wanting to propel the both of them forward. She gives in, and once they're in talking distance Ivy fights Zero's grip and Zero concedes.
Ivy hobbles toward Aloy. ]
Well you're a sight for sore eyes.
[ With age their reunions have become less fraught, much warmer. ]
no subject
Aloy's smile is warm and relieved. She leans forward to press a kiss to Zero's temple.]
The same to you. [A moment later, and her expression sobers some.] You didn't come out here just for me, did you? You'll both catch a chill.
[As predicted, she's scolding.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
That's why the brothel was always busiest during the hottest time of the year. She remembers her patrons smugly claiming their wives were hysterical and would be momentarily cured by the smell of salt and crashing of waves. And in that voice that they loved, Rose would remark she'd never seen the ocean.
Zero's room is dark. It had been decorated in a fashion that her husband and master (as the vows had called him— she had of course been sedated by magic and medicine both to get through the ceremony) had deemed suitable for a bride and tool of her status and stature. It mirrored her suite in his main home— a castle passed down from tyrant to tyrant, the very same girls her age had once dreamed of visiting, hoping to be saved from their miseries by becoming a courtesan to someone who mattered. The only difference between this room and that one was the sea breeze and distant sounds of waves crashing against cliff and sand.
Zero sits underneath the canopy of her bed, covers drawn over her head like a silk tent. The smell of herbs and smoke pervade through the room and the earthy smoke is already billowing up toward the vaulted ceiling.
She's been at this for while, when her watchdog and designated companion enters the room. She's not supposed to be doing this, but she doesn't seem to care. After all, what was the worst she could do? Tell her mother?
Of all of the king's advisors that woman was the most unsavory. All of this had been her idea after all— that man otherwise wouldn't have the gall or brainpower to trap her like this. ]
no subject
Of course she could. She loved her mother. And if her mother wanted her to do such a small thing, then... yes, she could bear it. She would bear it. It was no trouble at all to bear it.
In front of her, the stately door blurs before the image rights itself again. Suletta takes a deep breath, then as she always does, she knocks at the door before entering. This too was unnecessary, but it seemed so rude to barge in, to assert herself in someone's space without permission. The sickly sweet odor of herbs and smoke hits her before she's even in the room properly. She quickly shuts the door, shrouding them both in the oppressive cloak of darkness. Suletta hears herself saying:]
Hello, miss!
[In a cheery and robotic way as she sets to righting the mess in the room. Clothing strewn about, things overturned. Suletta works quickly and efficiently, even though the smoke makes her feel queasy and lightheaded. She doesn't complain, though she breezes by the conspicuous shape under the blankets and opens one of the windows to let the smell of sea salt and fresh air in. With her back turned away from her lady, she can take greedy gulps of air until the dizzy feeling goes away. She feels less clammy, momentarily refreshed. At last her gaze falls toward the bed, and her brow knits. Her hands twist anxiously, and she approaches with the caution of someone prepared to dart away at any moment.]
Are...
Are you hungry? Can I get you anything at all? You um... well, I noticed you didn't come down for breakfast, so I thought I would check on you.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
calling this au how suletta got her groove back
Miss Rose, I hope that you're having a wonderful day! If not I hope that this will cheer you up. Ehe, it's cute, isn't it? It's like she's dancing!
Is the hotel suite OK? I didn't have the time to check in yesterday. Our staff is very good, but I usually take a look myself for special circumstances like this. Please accept my apologies.
Oh, do you prefer Zero? I'm sorry. I wasn't sure. ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ) Is it confusing to have a stage name?
Thank you again for agreeing to the performance on such short notice. The children will be so excited! Please let me know if I can help with any other arrangements for your stay. *(*´∀｀*)☆
no subject
No Miss no dancing birds
[ She did watch the video on loop for at least three minutes, stone faced while she did.
God where to even start with this dissertation of a text.. ]
the hotel is pretty standard can't complain
I gotta ask do these kids actually listen to my music
If they do they probably shouldn't be
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Or had that been a few evenings before?
When they'd arrived at the graveyard was when her memory began to go fuzzy, become tattered at the corners. Indistinct. She knows they must have dug up the coffin, because in the morning (?) after her nails had hardened dirt under them, gray muck that crumbled easily beneath the pressure of her fingertips, and her shirt was streaked with mud. She remembers being handed the crowbar, the metal so cold that it almost stuck to her hands. She remembers the eyes of that thing opening, as bright and as unnatural as the sodium lamps they'd traveled beneath. The whistle of air behind her ear as the woman drove something sharp into the heart of the creature, and the horrible noise afterward, high and agonizing enough to make her ears pop, as if she were in the pressurized cabin of a jet.
She remembers thinking: good.
After this, she remembers very little at all. Pain most often, which ruled her, a pain like dying. Being cold all the time, feeling empty. Feeling hungry. She thought she should go home, though she could not remember where that was in her current state, because the only place she did know was this old and poorly lit house, where all the furniture was covered in white sheets that reminded her of funeral shrouds. Funny: she could remember those, little snippets of fact and memory, but any attempt at grasping a more substantial thought brought with it more pain, a feeling like hands digging into her skull and pulling it apart. She existed in this state for hours? Days? Weeks, perhaps, the only constant beyond the hunger, pain and confusion being the woman, who would sometimes sit beside her in unsettling quiet, or leave in the night, only to return late in the evening, sometimes dragging something heavy behind her.
In the days before, Allison had refused whatever this was, had been repulsed, but when the woman shakes her awake tonight, her throat is so dry that she can't force out much of anything but a dull death-rattle. She's tired and thirsty, she wants to say. She wants to be left alone. When she tries to push back, she is struck by the sight of what she begins to realize, in a slow-growing dread, is her own hand. Her skin, desiccated,, bruised gray and bone white, the veins beneath her near translucent skin blue-black. It trembles in the moonlight like an old woman's.
Allison lets it fall to her side. Even this slight movement takes incredible effort on her part. When had she ever been this weak? This cold and frail? Had something happened? She tries to ask the woman this, though again the sounds crackle and die in her throat.
no subject
The self-loathing is always there and was even before she became as inhuman as she actually felt, finally having a body that matched this sentiment was just oddly comforting.
Getting into the house is easy. All she has to do is use a key.
It's dark inside and since she's managed to come home earlier than usual. So, she indulges; Rose parts the blackout curtains just enough that the moonlight can filter through the sheer curtains in front of them. Thin beams trickle into the dark room and it's not enough to look like anything but dust from glass, but Rose hopes its something to Allison who has not left this house in nearly a month.
The man she brought back with her is still groaning near the living room door, bleeding out slowly on the hardwood floor.
"Shit."
She's frowning, mad at herself for being messy. It was hard to have much restraint in this specific case. Something to deal with later: for now she focuses on Allison, stirring in the nest of old quilts that Rose had set up for her. With her heels still on and her party dress still warm with flesh blood Rose gets on her knees and pulls Allison into her arms, her expression almost quivering at the sight of her. She'd be shitting dust if she could shit at all - seeing her so weak was the strangest of these nightmares.
Trying to fill the gap with other indulgences worked for awhile- sex, desserts, red meat and iron rich food. But the sickness ate and ate and ate, and now it was feeding on Allison.
"Hey." Her voice is quiet. "You're going to hate me after, I don't care." Her hands are as dirty as her dress; Rose presses her fingers to her lips and puckers them, spreading the red all over her mouth.
"We're-" The man groans, miserable with the last ounces of his pain. Rose snaps her head around and snarls.
"CAN IT." He makes no more noise. Rose turns her attention back to Allison, face soft again.
"We're gonna' work our way up- too much right away and it'll shock your system. Make you go septic." She props Allison against her so that all of her weight rests upon Rose. Usually, she would struggle to pull such a feat but Rose lifts her like its nothing at all.
She presses her thumb against Allison's mouth, watching as it makes her stir.
"It's going to feel worse before it feels better- no one to blame but yourself for that."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
She debates calling Aloy, but in the end decides the dread is easier to hide via text. ]
Your kid is mad you wouldn't take her with you.
She misses the city.
[ Alana is three and for better or worse, talkative and has a vocabulary larger than most adults.
Genius genes, she supposes. But unfortunately all that brain hasn't kept her from wetting the bed. That combined with the fact that she was more prone to tantrums when alone with Aloy meant that she was probably better off not following her mother along to a political summit that decided the fate of thousands of people. ]
no subject
She can take my place if she wants, next time. I'd rather be at home.
[A moment later:]
Send a picture.
[She was always asking for pictures.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Over the decades she's learned to find fulfillment in things more minute than survival. Her self-expression, her music, being a mother most of all.
But the house was up there. Zero had an affinity for the water, the ocean especially. It was nostalgic and oddly calming. It'd been a months long process, the blueprints themselves a gift from Aloy to commemorate their many years together.
The floors were made from shiny blue tile imported from the Quen mainland, walls washed in plain neat white making it stick out among the many ornate Quen structures. Every piece of furniture was purchased over time, some were even gifts - she'd become something of a stylistic tastemaker.
The problem however is that it was small. There was only one bedroom and their daughters had been (begrudgingly) assigned pallets on the floor.
She was kind of pissed at them, so she doesn't feel bad about it in this moment.
Zero is already cocooned in their bed, scrolling mindlessly through stupid videos on her Focus, when Aloy enters she peaks out from under her blankets.
Age, or her new lifestyle has softened her features some. The angles of Zero's face are rounder now, and the intimidating aura she'd once projected has worn away like a knife turned blunt from years of overuse.]
Did they let you have it again?
[ She's been trying to avoid her own spawn now that they've settled in their sleeping spots.
The lack of proper beds had only made them grouchier about the news. ]
no subject
Aloy has the harried, exhausted look of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders — and for once, this isn't literally the case, as much as it felt that way. She slips into the bedroom quietly, running a hand through her hair in a subdued gesture of distress. Her "retirement" has softened her too — mostly about the midsection, which had come as a surprise to her, and the graying in her hair, which had not.
Her gaze softens at the sight of Zero wrapped in blankets. This sort of burrowing instinct was a habit of hers that never ceased to be charming to Aloy. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.]
Yeah. Alana told me to "be reasonable." [The way Aloy's chin lifts at this, as if in response to a challenge, is familiar.] Honestly. They're acting like I told them I was coming out of retirement.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)