Aloy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
despitethenora) wrote2023-01-29 09:48 pm
despitethenora) wrote2023-01-29 09:48 pm
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[Out of habit, her greeting starts with a sigh. Hey, for a long time the only person who called her was Sylens, and it really set a tone for phone conversations. Be glad it's just a sigh.]
What do you need?
What do you need?
Re: NSFW
...Just in case, she pings with her Focus.]
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Tryse was there.
A replica of Elisabet Sobeck’s attire:
Ceo has the Quen guards holding bows trained on Aloy and Alva (Alva, a Diviner, a Quen woman wearing a more decorative and outdated version of the Focus) - specifically, Ceo has them shift aim to Alva, because Elisabet Sobeck (Aloy) prizes life, and will care more about a threat to someone else. He’s cosplaying Ted Faro, boldly claims he has Faro’s spirit, just as clearly Aloy is Sobeck reborn. First, Aloy must don proper business attire: she dislikes it, but for Alva’s sake, she changes into a low-tech replica of the outfit Sobeck was seen wearing in old holos.
They must enter Faro’s bunker. Where the man who destroyed the world went to ride out the apocalypse. THIS door doesn’t grant clearance for a Sobeck clone, and for a moment, Ceo is building up to a tantrum. But disaster is averted when Aloy says she can get inside from underwater (“See?” Is the reaction. “With Sobeck, there is always a way.”) so Aloy gets her diving mask out, and swims to get in through the bunker’s infrastructure. Opens the door from within.
It’s a grand structure. Built for a rich man to live out the end of the world in perfect comfort. Two corruptor robots are posted as eternal guards; Aloy and Alva must destroy them, bows against advanced weaponry. The rest of the Quen - well, the Ceo must be protected. With that obstacle out of the way, they can start to explore the bunker.
Only Aloy’s Focus is up-to-date enough to let her access the records left by Faro and his companions. Man basically brought a harem, a guru, and a medical scientist. She has to bite her tongue as she unravels the fate of the bunker’s residents.
Ted Faro went mad. Installed kill switches in the others. Started killing when they became problems. No longer pleased him. Demanded the doctor treat him with experimental pharmaceuticals to halt his aging. Make him immortal. There are notes - the treatment worked, in its way, but required constant intervention to stop cancerous tumors. His bunkmates spend their last days miserable and in fear; the doctor and his daughter are the last ones standing, and they choose the only exit available to them, taking their own lives.
But sure. The bunker is safe from the machines. And Ted Faro will live forever. In fact, they do find life in the bunker - in its power generator. The bunker’s instrumentation show a biomass, leeching more and more power, only ever growing to fill the generator’s chambers. It lives, but there’s no mind in that organism anymore.
Ceo orders his men to burn it, but the attempt only enrages the organism. It rages, and the strained generator destabilizes. Only one thing that can be done, as far as Aloy’s concerned: run. Get herself and Alva out as lava and fire begins to flood the ancient CEO’s doomsday refuge, and take down any Quen who try to stop them.
A Nora outfit:
Aloy’s still a bit agitated from Rost’s goodbye as she approaches the entrance to Mother’s Heart. Two men, Braves, stand guard at the age in the village’s log wall; they seem to ignore her until she’s about to pass, at which point, they cross spears in front of her. One of the men speak. “You will turn back, outcast. Or bleed - your choice.”
Before Aloy can escalate the situation, she hears a woman’s voice, saying, “Make way! Make way!” The gates are pushed open, and a grandmotherly matriarch approaches, beckoning Aloy in. “Braves, stand aside, she is welcome here. Mother’s Heart is open to you, child. Come, I assure you, most Nora aren’t as rude as those idiots.”
Aloy’s experience doesn’t support that, but she does step through the gate, looking at the bustle of activity within the walls. It’s all a bit overwhelming - more people and sound than she’s seen yet, festivities in the lead up to the Proving. “You’re . . . Teersa?”
Teersa is already rushing, for her age, back into the village. “Who else would I be? Come on now . . . I’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”
“You have?”
“Oh yes. But for the moment, I must leave you. I have other outsiders to keep safe tonight!”
“You - what?” The Nora do not give friendly greetings to trespassers.
“Envoys from another tribe - the Carja - come to observe the Proving. And oh how the Nora hate the Carja.”
She doesn’t know the Carja yet, and her head is still spinning from - all this. “Carja?”
“But that’s my problem. We will talk later. In the meantime, enjoy the festival.” A beat, and something occurs to the matriarch. “Oh! Down the path to the right, you’ll find an old friend who can’t wait to see you!”
And then she’s off, with Aloy calling after her, “But I don’t know anyone here!”
“Ha! Try telling him that. We will talk later! May the Goddess protect!”
Aloy is left, confused - a lifelong outcast doesn’t have friends - but she makes her way down the path, mumbling to herself. “What is going on. . .?”
Sure enough, though, there’s a young man waiting for her. He greets her with a gentle voice, saying, “It is Aloy, isn’t it? I’m remembering your name correctly?”
“Are you the ‘old friend’ Teersa told me about? I don’t know you.”
“I see you don’t recognize me. Well, it was a long time ago. Teb is my name. You were half my size when you saved me from a herd of machines.”
Recognition dawns. “I remember. You tried to thank me.”
“I never forgot that day. All these years, I hoped to see you again - if you came to run in the Proving. As you can see, I didn’t turn out to be much of a hunter. I serve the tribe as a Stitcher, instead. A maker of garments and armor. In preparation for this day, I’ve made an outfit for you. I hope you’ll like it.”
“What’s it going to cost?” Aloy has, on occasion, gotten a trader to break the law and barter with her. She knows how this goes.
“Cost? Nothing! Consider it the thanks I tried to give years ago, long overdue.” Teb is handing over a Brave’s outfit.
Aloy swallows. “Thank you, Teb. I’ve never had anything like this before.” A gift. A thank-you. Acknowledgment.
“Well, it’s yours. I think you’ll find it affords more protection than . . .what you were wearing. Every outfit offers some advantage. It’s always a trade-off. Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Head for the Matriarch’s Lodge if you want to find Teersa. You’ll know it when you see it. A large, wooden building with an angry mob waiting outside.”
“Teersa said something about envoys from another tribe?”
“Yes, that’s what the mob’s angry about. Carja, visiting our Sacred Land for the first time in years. I’d expect to see some tomatoes fly, maybe rocks. Hopefully not spears. In any case, be ready to duck.”
Prayer beads:
Aloy approaches an old woman - a fellow outcast, technically - kneeling high in the mountains. The woman prays, and Aloy feels an old exasperation. Aloy carries rabbits that she has hunted for Grata; it burns her that Grata never speaks to her, but there’s no one else to look out for the old woman. For all Aloy feels - she speaks, anyway. “Hello, Grata.”
There is no acknowledgement, not even looking back at Aloy. “All-Mother, since I was cast out, have I not been constant as the river flows? Have I not kept the vows as the stones do? Show me your grace, All-Mother, and provide for me once more.”
Aloy doesn’t hide her frustration. “Good news, Grata. Once again, All-Mother has brought you rabbits.”
“All-Mother, your voice cracks like the distant thunder. I hear the songs of grief, All-Mother. I would join the call, but I left my prayer beads atop the eastern overlook. . . I am afraid.”
Prayer beads, then. Fine. There’s less fire in her voice now, hearing that Grata is afraid. “Wait at your camp for me, Grata. I’ll see what I can do.”
For the hunter, it’s an easy journey, and with her Focus, it’s even easier to find the beads. It isn’t too long before she’s heading to Grata’s camp. Again, she approaches, and again, only Grata’s back is presented to her.
“Here are your prayer beads, Grata. Now you have what you need.”
“All-Mother, each morning I find your tears of joy speckling the leaves, joy at the beauty of all you have made. See how I cry now with you, in gratitude.”
Aloy huffs. “So you’ll cry for her, but you won’t speak to me? Fine. Guess that makes you the better outcast.” A moment, and there’s that damned sense of obligation again. “. . .Grata, I may not be around for a while. I’m going to run in the Proving, and . . . I’m not sure what’s going to happen after that.”
“All-Mother, I thank you for the kindnesses you share. When the Proving comes, in your great wisdom, may you give favor to a brave of generous heart.”
Ah. “I. . .think I get what you’re saying. Goodbye, Grata, for now.”
Aloy hears Grata as she leaves the camp behind. “All-Mother, hear me as I count off my years of devotion from these beads. . .”
An Oseram armor set:
A bit of a montage, as Aloy assists the competitors of a contest by Keruf’s Salvage Unlimited: craft him the best armorset to survive the rigors of the Forbidden West, and he will reward the winner handsomely. She strikes a series of contracts with each competitor, to hunt machines near each of their expedition’s camps and salvage the parts for the design they have in mind.
Larend is the first, a young salvager eager to prove himself. For plating, he hires Aloy to ambush a convoy of Shellwalkers (cargo carrying machines styled after crabs, carrying containers on their back and boasting a hard light shield on one arm, an electric cannon on the other); then he requests the alarm antennas from Scroungers (a sentry machine that resembles a hyena); then the jaws of Scrappers (also hyena-like, but focused on recovering parts from fallen machines); and finally, she hunts Fire Fanghorns (like deer, grazing for material to produce biofuel), and the herd is too alert and fast for her to hunt except by overriding a lobo-horse and riding along with the herd to shoot off the parts she needs.
Handa is next, a middle-aged woman with a. . .friendly, but superior attitude. Handa requires Aloy to salvage relic parts from the ancient husks of the old world’s tanks and cars; a laser cannon from a Ravager (similar to a large predatory feline); to claim parts that a pair of thieves salvaged by stealing treasure maps from Handa (Aloy discovers their camp; they were killed by a Snapmaw - OH IT’S A ROBOT ALLIGATOR); wiring “nerves” from Plowhorns (robot triceratops) and a set of the flowers the Plowhorns were seeding; and lancehorn salvage (again, riding after a herd, this time like antelopes).
Runda is another woman, her camp in trouble. Aloy is motivated to help her, for the expedition’s safety, as they refuse to call it quits. Aloy helps recover lost supplies, establish defenses around the camp; and salvage parts from a Rollerback (think GIANT ROBO ARMADILLO).
Finally, Danur, a man who has taken his expedition far too deep into dangerous territory. The original expedition leader has sacrificed himself to lure a rampaging Thunderjaw away from the camp (think robot T-rex with lasers). Danur, too, is too foolhardy to call it quits. Aloy must secure the camp’s perimeter by collecting Stalker proximity mine launchers (Think predatory large cats - if they had stealth generators, proximity mines, and energy dart guns); recover the original expedition leader’s armor plans by tracking where he led the Thunderjaw (finding he managed to take the Thunderjaw down before dying; she has to deal with other machines, and use her Focus to search for the key to the case holding the plans. Tenakth rebels are attacking the camp when she returns, and she has to help fight them off.); parts from a Behemoth (think robot rhinoceros) that have been reinforced by Spikesnouts (think robot hippos); and underwater salvage from a map from the old leader’s lockbox, requiring Aloy to get her diving mask and sneak past snapmaws to get parts from sunken old world ruins.
Once all four have assembled their entries for the contest, they gather - and Keruf is going to screw them all over like a proper capitalist.
“Ah. . .I gotta say,” Keruf says. “These are some good pieces. Each set has great parts. But overall, none of them scream ‘best in the West,’ you know? But not to worry! I might be able to pull in some favors. Sell these sets instead.”
Danur. “What about the prize?”
“Well, no one really brought what I asked for. . . So I’ll just keep that and get going.”
The competing salvagers protest collectively.
Aloy steps in. “Not so fast, Keruf. You said each set had great parts. So make a set that combines them.”
Larend. “She’s right. It’d make the perfect defense against the Forbidden West.”
Handa. “A creative, and communal endeavor. I approve!”
Aloy, a little smug, to have them at her back. She loves to see a capitalist's plans fall apart. “And since everyone came up with part of it, they should all get the shards you promised.”
“Fine.” Keruf isn’t happy. “Then just. . .forge the armor. Give it to me and I’ll take it back east.”
Danur again. “And let you walk away with our best work? No. Let the Savior of Meridian have it. She’ll test it out properly.”
She glances at him, being called by the title, but Aloy doesn’t interject. Keruf paces, considering. “Best armor in the Forbidden West.” His tone grows - he’s found a spin. “Tested by the Savior of Meridian herself. Not a bad selling point. Okay! You all got yourselves a deal. I’ll go get things ready with my business contacts, then.”
Aloy. “You do that.”
Keruf leaves, and the salvagers convene, with Larend assuring Aloy. “Don’t go anywhere. This won’t take long.”
When it’s done, Handa presents it to Aloy. “This armor ought to be worthy of the greatest hunter in the Forbidden West.”
Aloy. “Thank you. So, what now?”
Runda. “The little spot we found in the desert kind of grew on me. Would’t mind sticking around. And there’s still plenty of salvage to be done around here.”
Danur. “Looks like we’re all staying in the west.”
Aloy. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then. Thanks, again - for the armor. You all put a lot into it.
A diving mask
To about 2:30, unless you want rambling about ancient light projectors.
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She picks up the diving mask and fits it over her face experimentally. Honestly, she'd expected some kind of full facial covering. An eye shield of some sort.
The armor... More heavily armored than the gambeson, even. She'll make a note of that. Another interesting memory, too. Isn't it just like a merchant to try to screw his craftsmen over out of a lack of imagination?
The beads and the Nora outfit... Rather expected, really.
But Ted Faro's fate. Now. That's a quiet horror if she's ever seen one. A well deserved fate, it seems. Immortality, but warped into something inhuman and... well.
Killing him at that point was probably a favor he didn't deserve. But possibly the right thing to do anyway.]
GAIA. If the others were to come in, without Focuses, is there a stockpile for them to borrow while they're in Aloy's heart?
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"It would be possible to request the fabrication of several Focuses."]
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We're probably running low on time, GAIA. I've two final questions.
First: Am I being too selfish here, or would Aloy think I was, especially with my desire for her to bond more closely with Claudine?
Second: What would be the best guidance I could give Claudine towards convincing Aloy to give her a portion of her heart, assuming everything works well to that point?
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“There is little reason to believe selfishness is how Aloy would describe this desire. She has identified a physical attraction to Claudine. Rather, Aloy is likely to feel intrusive by seeking that connection, especially as she is uncertain Claudine would return any interest.
A physical attraction is insufficient. The best way to convince Aloy to open herself to another is to engage in meaningful activity together. Take for example, Aloy and Talanah Khane Padish hunting Redmaw together; or Aloy and yourself delving in the local ruins.”]
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Aloy enjoys watching us dance. Would she have an interest in learning, if offered? Or in teaching stealth? There are those who hunt by sound and smell, after all.
... Did the fantasy bother her?
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She hardly knows music - and the idea of getting in front of people to do something that she won’t be very good at. Singing at the party that one time was one thing.]
“Rather than bother her, the fantasy proved an opportunity to confirm some preferences.”]
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[Tryse pauses at that.]
Looking at my fantasy of her and Claudine engaging in a bit of-of energetic stress relief helped her realize she liked women? Well, at least something good came out of that mess for Aloy, then...
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This hasn't been a wasted trip, at least. I've learned a few things. Have a few ideas on how to move forward. Some hard conversations need to be had, I think, but I'll burn those bridges when I get to them.
...Regarding the gods. What if it was clear that the matter was less "They won't send you home" and more "They can't send you home?" Would that make her less likely to, ah. Try for deicide?
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“It is unlikely that Aloy would accept the notion that the gods cannot send people home. It is known that Hunter, from the team Mouse, has been returned to his home for approximately a year.”
GAIA gestures, and two holograms of Hunter appear, one after the other - pre-time skip Hunter and post-time skip Hunter.]
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[She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Hunter. The stray pebble in her assumptions.]
That would be so much more valuable if we knew how or why. The snake knows how to breach the spheres, that doesn't mean the knowledge is known by the others. Or that they have the power to do so. If any of them were remotely his equal, a coalition wouldn't be required.
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“I require something of a coalition, myself. Without a majority of my subordinate functions merged with my base program, HEPHAESTUS exceeds my processing power. It presents a significant challenge in restoring HEPHAESTUS to its original programming.
“Perhaps in the end, it will be a coalition of these ‘gods’ that will enable a return home.”]
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[Primordial gods. Olympians. Even the goddess of childbirth? So strange.]
I wonder why Zeus or Jupiter aren't present.
Either way. It's possible. It's also possible this war won't end in our lifetimes. Gods work on a scale measured in centuries, after all. Best not to burden either sister with that thought.
We'll see what happens.
[And, hopefully, they won't have to leave. Won't have to separate.]
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But that time limit is probably hitting, huh.]
Trip right back into NSFW-land.
[...Ah. Things are starting to fade as the real world starts to take its hold again, aren't they?
Kneeling there, she's feeling a little stiff. Been kneeling, kissing Aloy's hand for a solid hour. Not great for her knees.
She stands. Grunts a little. Looking down at Aloy... That's a real heady mix of emotions there. Absolute rage on her behalf. Plenty of desire. Depression. Sorrow. Friendship. A bit of comfort. Concern.
Eventually, all of that starts to get crowded out by a mix of embarrassment and shame, as Tryse realizes that there's a slight smell, and a stickiness. She doesn't need to look down to know that there's a bit of a puddle between her boots.
Maybe taking a brief moment to, uh. Unstring herself in Aloy's heart wasn't the brightest idea she'd ever had.]
...I should probably...
[She points at the door, not quite meeting Aloy's eyes.]
Re: Trip right back into NSFW-land.
A hard swallow, and before Tryse can retreat, Aloy will turn their hands to return a kiss to the knuckles.]
Okay. I’ll be here for a bit.
Re: Trip right back into NSFW-land.
Next step: Baths. And then not looking Aloy in the face for the rest of the day.
And then exploding on Donnie tomorrow morning, as the fates foretold.]
Re: Trip right back into NSFW-land.