The fog has cleared. Mostly. Echo's Reach now sits far behind her, but the Charger's sickly-looking horns were a subtle reminder of the current state of the world. A mixture of rust and purple acid corrodes and misshapes the metal in a way out of this world. The Charger's two horns, which would normally curl in that characteristic manner, are almost unrecognizable. One of them has been cut in half, leaving a stump with a smoothed cut as if worked in an Oseram forge. The other, though mostly intact, didn't inspire hope in the Charger's survival either. One good wack and it would fall out like loose rock on a cliff side. The rest of the plating was in equally bad condition, though a Charger's body was mostly made of machine muscle and wiring, which didn't seem to be affected as quickly. Still, a faint purple did replace the otherwise black silhouette of the machine. I hope it can carry me all the way to the shore.
In the water lay a small boat with two small modified machine drills attached to it, one on each side. This Skiff had seen a bit of everything at this point, both calm midnight drifts and intense sea-based combat. Both the intense and the outright romantic. She stepped off the Charger and gave it a small pat on the head for its good work. The machine didn't have feelings and didn't know what she expressed with the gesture, but something compelled her to do it anyway. Somehow she felt bad for the creature. Even though she pulled it through so much, leaving it in a state of decay, she would turn her tail on it, and return to the mainland and it wouldn't. "Sorry", she whispered hoping the unfeeling machine would find it in its non-existent heart to forgive her.
She stepped onto the skiff. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, making the sea a silky smooth red. Or that is how she remembered it. I look forward to seeing it on the mainland again. The Skiff began to speed up, and the Charger quickly became small in perspective. and besides the yellow-ish fog, the world almost seemed normal for a moment. She directed her nose forward, and let the moment wash over her. Nostalgia crept into her mind as it often did when sailing. Her time as a marine was part of it, sure, but especially her time traveling with Aloy made her smile. And blush.
She remembered the time they first tried to use the Skiff to travel through the raging waters to the west of the Burning Shores. They didn't get as far as they expected before the Skiff tipped over and threw both of them in each direction. At first, they had laughed and giggled on the boat, sharing the freedom… and privacy. The moment turned silent but not awkward. They looked over the horizon as they often did together, herself at the wheel while ALoy sat on the deck looking all pretty. The sun really suited her hair. And her features also shined equally pretty as she turned her head with a big smile. And in that moment a wave pushed them around, knocking them over.
Seyka had been pushed around under the surface, unsure of when she would get to breathe again. A moment, an hour, Seyka couldn't remember. But Aloy's face as she glided on a Waterwing down to save her, that she remembered. The skiff was toast, but she didn't complain. She could cling to Aloy all the way back to Fleet's End. The old excuse of I'm scared of flying still worked, even though she had gained proficiency long ago. Something told her that Aloy purposely ignored that fact, just as she did herself. Those were great times. Almost wish I hadn't upgraded the Skiff.
The memories drew a layer of red on her cheeks. As she composed herself, she pulled out her Focus datachannels. Though Nemesis's communication jamming was still confusing them, Seyka seemed to be able to get snippets of data through here and there. She wouldn't be able to get a complete message, and she wouldn't be able to upload the data from this distance. But she could send a message… eventually.
TEXT LOG / RETURNING HOME
Hello Beta, GAIA, and everyone else. I have made a breakthrough, and I am returning to the base now. See you there.
Seyka