Summer closed stifling hot, reluctant to give way to a dry and slow cooling of autumn. Aloy landed on the coast weeks ago but has taken her time in coming inland. She’s no good at being home but keeps telling herself she’s staying this time. If she just tries there will be some reason to keep herself on the ground. Being home never feels like belonging. It feels just as shitty as any place else but with a bonus of eerie familiarity waving at her from this corner or that.
When things go bad she comes home. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but here she is galloping into the midst of the field to offer herself up.
The ground is hard-packed beneath her hooves. Their percussive beats stirring dust when she gallops over the patchy grass. Whorls of flaking leaves spin across her path and disintegrate beneath her tread. The leggy mare is not certain how this is supposed to work, if she’s meant to make a friendly approach to someone else or if she ought to find a place to stand and look approachable. Both of these options are so unappealing that she strikes out at the earth and bucks once mid-flight to shake out the irritation that grips her muscles. She is not her mother, who unbeknownst to Aloy once stood on this same ground practically quivering with eagerness to know this place and its people. Aloy would rather be alone.
If she could be alone she wouldn't be back here. Her mother had made her too pretty but did not pass on the ability to wield that beauty as a weapon.
When Aloy does stop the wind plucks at her feathers and twists her flaxen mane around the bases of her back-swept antlers. Otherwise, she is as still as she can be. Her breathing slows and her green eyes sweep methodically over the nearby horses. What is it they want? Not her.
She will not stand alone long. When someone comes close enough for whatever reason they do Aloy valiantly resists the urge to pin her gold trimmed ears at them. She only turns them backward which could be mistaken for coquette except that she's practically glaring. "Can I help you?"
An excellent way to be invited into the shelter of a kingdom.
When things go bad she comes home. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, but here she is galloping into the midst of the field to offer herself up.
The ground is hard-packed beneath her hooves. Their percussive beats stirring dust when she gallops over the patchy grass. Whorls of flaking leaves spin across her path and disintegrate beneath her tread. The leggy mare is not certain how this is supposed to work, if she’s meant to make a friendly approach to someone else or if she ought to find a place to stand and look approachable. Both of these options are so unappealing that she strikes out at the earth and bucks once mid-flight to shake out the irritation that grips her muscles. She is not her mother, who unbeknownst to Aloy once stood on this same ground practically quivering with eagerness to know this place and its people. Aloy would rather be alone.
If she could be alone she wouldn't be back here. Her mother had made her too pretty but did not pass on the ability to wield that beauty as a weapon.
When Aloy does stop the wind plucks at her feathers and twists her flaxen mane around the bases of her back-swept antlers. Otherwise, she is as still as she can be. Her breathing slows and her green eyes sweep methodically over the nearby horses. What is it they want? Not her.
She will not stand alone long. When someone comes close enough for whatever reason they do Aloy valiantly resists the urge to pin her gold trimmed ears at them. She only turns them backward which could be mistaken for coquette except that she's practically glaring. "Can I help you?"
An excellent way to be invited into the shelter of a kingdom.