copy-pasting this note from AO3:
Kotallo deserves to be the first Tenakth to fly, fight me
This is kinda rambly and structureless, but the idea stuck with me and I thought I'd use it to practice writing both Aloy and Kotallo (stoic characters are always hard for me to write), cause I definitely have other (smuttier~) ideas that I'd like to write as well, but I wanted to kinda dabble in their heads and voices first lol. And I'm always trying to be less picky about what I post online
enjoyyyyy
"When you said we were riding, I thought you meant…"
"A Charger?" Aloy grins, taking the steps two at a time. "Sunwing's faster. And once you fly on one, there's nothing else like it."
They reach the top of the perch, where Aloy's overridden Sunwing is waiting; it chitters when it sees her, nuzzling its giant, deadly head into her outstretched hand like a pet. Kotallo can't bury the impulse to keep his hand on the shaft of his spear.
"You seem… uncharacteristically nervous," she says, turning to watch him. It's not a statement of judgment, just an observation, but it still needles at his pride, probably because she's correct.
"Nervousness isn't unwarranted," he says, taking a step closer to the massive machine currently swooning under Aloy's touch. "No Tenakth's feet have ever left the earth."
His defensiveness, however coolly he tries to play it off, makes Aloy's smile turn crooked. She strokes the Sunwing's neck, then steps aside and gestures up to its back. "Ready to be the first, then?" she says, her eyes softening. "The first Tenakth to fly on the wings of the Ten?"
She makes a little gliding movement with her hand as she says it, and if his hand wasn't still gripping his spear he'd be tempted to slip his fingers between hers. He takes a breath. "Show me."
She shows him the small outcropping of machinery and thick wire which serves as a makeshift foothold, tells him, "One smooth movement," and then Kotallo hefts himself up and onto the back of the Sunwing. Aloy follows after him, settling in the cradle of his thighs, her body a solid and welcome familiarity among the alienness of straddling a machine. She smells like medicinal herbs and sweat, and when she turns to look at him over her shoulder he keeps his expression carefully neutral.
"Hold on tight, okay?" she says.
He slides his arm around her middle, and she lets out a startled laugh that makes his chest warm.
"I meant the machine," she says, sounding highly amused. "But whatever, that works too. Just hold onto something . It's kind of a rough take-off, but once we get up in the air it'll smooth out."
"I trust you," he says, tightening his arm around her waist.
She nods, and then grabs two of the thick wires that twine from the Sunwing's head to its body, yanking on them like reins. The Sunwing starts, chittering and clicking as it takes off, and Aloy is correct, it is rough, a disorienting leap away from the earth among the flapping of mechanical wings. For a moment it's all Kotallo can do to hang on as the machine lifts into the air, its body tilted at such an angle that letting go would mean either a quick death or an unfortunate maiming, depending on the angle of landing. Aloy leans forward, closer to the body of the Sunwing, and Kotallo leans over her, feels the muscles in her back and her abs tensing as she expertly shifts with the machine's movements, like she was born to do it, like it's in her blood, in her nature.
The air chills rapidly as the Sunwing climbs, and within mere minutes they've reached altitude. The machine sweeps into a steady glide, and without the cacophonous beating of wings, the world is bared for Kotallo to see.
It's incredible. Miles upon miles of the planet, from the swampy marshlands of the Grove underneath them to the mountain where the Sky Clan lies far in the north, or the yawning desert to the east, or even the misty coast to the west. It's almost too much, like being at the peak of the Bulwark and surveying the landscape but without anything tethering him to the earth.
Anchoring his arm around Aloy, he leans over the side of the Sunwing to watch the ground far underneath them race past at dizzying speed, watches the machines there, so like insects at this height. A herd of Lancehorns runs along the crest of a hill, sunlight glinting off their armored hides, and then the hill gives way to a lake, and Kotallo watches the reflection of the clouds in it, watches the reflection of the Sunwing, just a blot in the glassy surface.
The vertigo is dizzying. Terrifying. Exhilarating.
"How're you doing?" Aloy asks over her shoulder, voice raised against the wind rushing past.
"Aloy, I'm… This is…" A rarity, Kotallo is at a loss for words. Is this how the Ten felt, every time they took to the skies? This instinctual terror and awe and dumbfoundedness? Did they ever grow accustomed to it? Kotallo isn't sure if such a thing as this could ever be fathomed in its entirety; the scale is too grand, the beauty too great. Humans are creatures of the dirt and the earth, were never given wings of their own - how could they ever hope to comprehend something like this?
"Like I said, once you fly on a Sunwing, there's nothing like it," Aloy says, softer.
"It's… indescribable," Kotallo says, aware that he's shaking but unsure why.
"It really…" She pauses, and then sighs, and then somehow sits up straighter while also huddling into herself. He has to crane his neck over her shoulder to avoid swallowing her hair. "It really puts everything into perspective," she says; she's close enough to him now that she doesn't raise her voice at all. "Why we're doing this. Why we keep fighting." Maybe it's just the proximity, but Kotallo can hear the tiredness in her voice underneath her ever-present determination. He reflexively tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her against him, as the consequences of her falling asleep at this altitude flash through his mind.
"As the Ten did before us," he says, in an attempt to bolster her.
She nods but doesn't respond. It's quiet aside from the air whistling past his ears and the clicking of beads from Aloy's braids. The sun is beginning to set, casting the land below into shades of gold and red, lighting up one side of the forested hills they're now flying over. The naked trees below, interspersed with their own long shadows, create a tangled mess of black and gold that's hard to parse, though it soon gives way to evergreen pines which, given the distance, look deceptively soft.
The sky overhead is a gradient, blinding pink and orange in the west, purple overhead, darkening blue to the east. It reminds Kotallo of a bruise. It's beautiful.
"How's it feel?" Aloy asks, turning slightly even though he can hear her just fine.
"Hm?"
"Being the first Tenakth to fly on the wings of the Ten?"
He thinks for a moment, taking the opportunity to admire her profile against the sky. She's not looking at him, but rather out towards the coast, her hazel eyes turned molten amber in the sunlight.
"I'd like to see Tekotteh's face," he says, "seeing me here, after all his grandstanding."
Her eyebrows lift and she looks at him sideways. "There's an idea," she says. "I think I'd like to see that, too."
"I'd not have it any other way," he says, searching her eyes. "The disgraced and disfigured marshal and the outlander who destroyed the Bulwark, soaring on the Wings of the Ten while Tekotteh's feet remain on the ground?" He huffs. "His ego would never recover."
"Does a girl's heart good to think about that," Aloy says lightheartedly.
He huffs again, watching her as she stares out at the coast. Her expression is indecipherable, the amusement in her eyes tempered by the furrow between her brows and the set of her mouth.
He wants to ask after what troubles her, but he's fairly sure he already knows the answer. And knowing does little to diminish his own concern for her wellbeing, does nothing to help him shoulder her burdens with her. Besides, she will shy away, will retreat into her shell if he asks, because while Aloy is a competent leader and strong ally, she is an unconfident friend.
Instead of words, he leans forward, drawn to her, a compass pulled true north, and kisses her. Given the angle, he meets the corner of her lips at first, and feels more than hears the small sigh that escapes her. She twists around, tilts her head so that their mouths connect properly, and Aloy shivers in his arm, humming contentedly. The feeling of her lips is such a disconnect from the rest of her; where her arms and hands are made of hardened muscle and hunter's callouses, her lips feel petal soft in comparison, and kissing her is intoxicating.
The world shifts, and Kotallo's insides churn, and then, with a startled yelp, Aloy turns and corrects the Sunwing from what had been a rapidly growing sideways tilt. Kotallo leans back away from the sudden faceful of her hair, trying to figure out how his stomach might have metaphysically deserted his body.
"Sorry," Aloy says, breathing a little heavier. "Uh. Um. I should… stay focused."
Mind still swimming a bit, Kotallo turns to stare out at the coast, at the deepening blood-red of the sky. His mouth is pleasantly warm, his chest light. "If that was to be my death, I I would not have regretted it," he says, hoping his levity translates. No noise escapes her, but he can feel her shaking with silent laughter. She seems embarrassed, if the hunch of her shoulders and her unwillingness to turn back around is anything to go by.
"Aren't Tenakth supposed to go out in a blaze of glory?" she says.
"Would that not have been glorious enough?" He leans over her shoulder again. "What more would you ask for?"
He hadn't meant anything solicitous by it, but Aloy shivers again nonetheless, perhaps partially because of his proximity.
"At least, like, a hundred more machines, according to Tenakth values," she says sardonically.
He hums. "That does sound considerably more exciting," he says, "though I'll admit, less appealing, given the circumstances." He presses a kiss against her ear, and she squirms away with yet another shiver.
" Concentrating here . "
He grins, hugging her close to him, and she settles back against him. They're nearing the Base now, a fact which surprises Kotallo given how drastically the travel time has been shortened compared to walking, or even riding a Charger; Aloy hadn't been exaggerating at all when she said that Sunwings are faster.
He spends the remainder of the trip continuing to marvel at the view, admiring how the colors of the world fade into the sky because of atmospheric perspective, and how the rolling hills and mountains and valleys parallax with one another depending on distance. He wonders whether or not he would truly appreciate the concepts he's currently seeing demonstrated, whether or not he'd even notice the world beyond its use as a battleground or strategic strongholds, if he hadn't learned about them from Aloy.
Already, she's done so much. For him. For the world. She is a catalyst, unstoppable and revelatory, and he is lucky to know her.
The Sunwing drops into a downwards glide, towards the plateau at the top of the mountain where the Base lies, and then with a few great, jostling flaps of its wings, it lands with surprising grace, coming to rest on the rocky ground. Aloy dismounts, and Kotallo follows her, trying to readjust to the feeling of his weight once again affecting his body.
She watches him with unabashed, if reserved, affection in her eyes, something only for him; it makes him feel almost uneasy, being subject to that look.
"So. How'd you like it?" she says, stepping easily into his space. Despite the chill in the air, her body is all inviting warmth. He rests his hand on her waist.
"I…" He swallows, shakes his head. "Thank you, Aloy," he says, and it feels inadequate, but he's not sure what else there is to say.
She seems perfectly satisfied with that, however, and nods, that fondness and softness in her eyes flaring bright. She hooks the fingers of both hands around the spiked neckline of his breastplate, and like the inexorable pull of the moon to which the tides are helplessly yielding, draws him down into the heat of her mouth.
"You're welcome."