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“And then she picked up the disc launcher the rebel had just dropped and turned it back around on him! You should have seen his face!” Erend’s words fade as I think back to our adventure earlier that day. Things had gone…well, by my standards at least. Asera is dead and the Sons of Prometheus should no longer be a significant threat. But that’s not to say everything went well. A cut on my abdomen was deeper than I thought and after a fair bit of scolding, I eventually caved in and let Zo suture it. Erend took some hard hits to the ribs and already has hideous bruises forming that will only get worse but still, he seems happy.
“So, this wretch is their Saviour?”
She had said the words to me when we were fighting so I didn’t have anytime to think about what she’d said, didn’t have time to let them effect me. But now? Now I have the time. And I don’t know why that stupid word is bothering me so much.
“Are you well, Aloy? Zo said you were injured, is something wrong? Is your wound paining you?”
Is your wound paining you, Wretch?
I shake my head, “I’m fine.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I can see him looking me over out of the corner of my eye. Looking for evidence that something is physically wrong: fresh blood, a grimace, my hands clenched.
“You haven’t spoken once since Erend started retelling your tale.”
I shrug, “Just tired.” I don’t manage to look him in the eyes as I say it, he would be able to immediately see through me. He’s quiet again before extending his hand out expectantly.
“Come.” I’m still for a moment before I give him my right hand and let him lead me to my room. Our room.
The door shuts behind us and he ushers me to sit down on the bed we share. “Talk to me.”
Talk to me, Wretch.
But I don’t know what to say to him, how to explain it. I don’t even know why this time that little, insignificant word is bothering me so much. I’ve been called far worse: outcast, motherless chuff, savage, barbarian, harlot. I’ve even been called a whore. But none of those have gotten under my skin like this has. This stupid word. Maybe it’s because another woman said it to me. All the other times it’s been men insulting me, trying to break me down with their words since they couldn’t with their bow or spear.
“Aloy?”
Wretch?
I open the menu on my focus and send him the video file of the fight. The video I’ve already watched far too many times this evening. I wonder if he’ll even hear her words, put together that this is what’s bothering me.
He opens the file and begins to watch it. He grimaces when the swing of her blade makes contact with my side, leaving the wound Zo had to stitch shut. I count the seconds until Asera speaks (18) and Kotallo’s face turns blank, his eyes going cold.
“This is what has you upset?”
This is what has you upset, Wretch?
I draw my lip into my mouth and bite down on it before I nod. “It’s stupid.” I mumble. He’s quiet for a good few minutes, and I’m just beginning to wonder if he’s going to reply when he speaks.
“You are Hekarro’s Champion, the Saviour of Meridian. You are the Sky clan’s Wallbreaker and the desert clan’s flame.” I open my mouth to interrupt him but he continues. “Those are all titles others have given you, forced upon you dare I say. To me? You are my Commander, my squadmate, my friend. You are my partner. Those are titles I have given you, that you have allowed me to give you. And I would hope those titles matter more, carry more weight, than one word from an angry, spiteful Oseram’s mouth.”
I mull over his words a moment before replying, “Of course those matter more but this one… it hurts more,” I admit, “And I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s the worst thing I’ve been called- savage stings, motherless still rubs me the wrong way. Men who didn’t even know my name but had the guts to call me a whore when really I had never even-” I stop myself. “You don’t know what it’s like.” As soon as I say the words a wave of horror washes over me when I realize he does in fact know what it’s like, knows better than most people in fact.
“Cripple. Useless. Waste of space. Maimed Marshall.” He spits the words out, “I know it’s not the exact same, and I know I don’t have to deal with the sexual slurs and innuendos that you do, but I know how you feel, Aloy.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think before I spoke,” I turn to look down at the ground as I speak, ashamed of myself. Kotallo uses a single finger to turn my chin up before kissing me softly on the lips.
“You are Aloy. You are strong, determined. You are an unstoppable force of nature. You are Aloy,” He repeats. “Just Aloy.”
I smile ever so slightly at those two words. He must have heard me say them to countless people by now. People who mean well and greet me by one of my many fancy, but unwanted, titles.
“Back in Meridian, Talanah was telling me how as soon as people hear her name, they think they know her because they know the name. I explained how despite being an outcast and hated by the Nora, everywhere I went I was suddenly ‘Aloy of the Nora’.” I scoff, remembering being called that so many times, each of them angering me to the bone. “So she called me ‘Aloy despite the Nora.” I smile, “It might be silly, but it meant a lot to me that she said that.”
“Aloy despite the Nora,” He repeats. “I like it. And you?” He pulls me closer to him and places a kiss on the top of my head, “I love you, Aloy despite the Nora.”