Chapter Text
Alva’s pain is obvious. Even more noticeable are her attempts to keep herself quiet.
She is perched neatly on a sofa in the main room across from where Kotallo mans the kettle. Zo has instructed him to brew her a numbing tea while they first tend to Aloy’s head wound. Hopefully it is only a concussion, but his commander’s uncharacteristic compliance concerns him more than any visible injury she bears.
Almost as worrying was their Diviner’s near total silence. It's clear she is only pretending to study, as neither tapping nor humming fills the heavy air. Any other night he’d consider it a blessing. The thought comes with a pang of guilt as he alternates between glaring a hole into the counter and checking on her without overtly staring.
She is upright, alert, and responsive, to his relief, though she cradles her right elbow where a plasma burn carves an ugly violet swathe through several layers of skin. Kotallo winces as he notes where the injury lies across the joint in her arm. Wound recovery is frustrating enough; keeping a highly mobile part of her body still on such an energetic individual will be a challenge. He plans to offer help wrapping it once this Ten-forsaken stove finally heats up.
Movement catches his eye. Parchment crumples, a writing implement clatters to the floor as what must be a fresh wave of pain courses through her. The sight of Alva’s small frame doubling over her own shaking knees has him hurriedly moving from the counter to her side. He softly calls her name once, then again when she doesn’t seem to hear him. He kneels.
"Look at me."
She does. He almost regrets asking; this close he can see her large eyes watering, red-rimmed, bereft of their usual brightness. A hollow ache sears into his chest.
"I will guide you through a Tenakth meditation we use to center our minds in moments of distress. If you allow me?" His hand extends between them, awaiting her answer.
Alva raises her head minutely, mouth holding a tight smile, and somewhat reluctantly removes the white-knuckled hand covering her injury to lay over his, tucking her immobile arm around herself.
"Close your eyes."
Together, they measure the length of each breath and the beats in between: inhale, hold; exhale, hold. He was first taught the same when Ikkotah found him shell-shocked after the siege of Barren Light, gasping pathetic drags of oxygen like a river fish suffocating in clear mountain air. Tenakth of all Clans have found value in the development and passing on of meditative maneuvers to soothe battle-nerves, curate a place of rest within themselves, and survive the space between.
Kotallo’s own creative addition is the step where he makes her puff her cheeks and look at her own nose for ten long seconds. His stony mask slips just long enough for her to catch on and his smirk is rewarded with a weak punch to his good arm.
"You— Kotallo!" Alva pouts. She squares her posture against him in challenge, a gesture he is deeply proud to witness her make against someone several times her size. “That’s not nice to tease me right now. I thought you wanted to help."
Rich laughter shakes his shoulders, tilting his head back where he meets the Quen’s adorably furrowed brow. He straightens, lopsided grin now in full view. "You’re smiling again."
Much as she struggled to hide her anguish, now her faux anger barely conceals the mirth spreading across her face. Her hand now released also doesn’t return to cradle her injury. Success.
"There’s no need to disguise your pain, little light. It is safe with us."
The laughter has dislodged tears that she quickly wipes out of sight. Alva clenches her fists and shakes her head. "It’s not even that deep. I guess I didn’t realize how much plasma would sting." She inhales shakily before continuing, seeming to already regret voicing her thoughts. "I mean, it's really not so bad, when I know what's happened to Aloy— and your—"
"And I, of all people, would be the last to tell someone their pain doesn’t matter." Kotallo lowers himself until he catches her eyes once more. "Tell me, did it help? The breathing? It may not work for all others, but it kept me sane after the Embassy until the worst of it passed."
She nods, though he remains unconvinced. Alva was not raised to walk the warrior’s path; he can only imagine the bravery she must possess to have faced down that Slaughterspine at Aloy’s side. He'll certainly never forget the way his stomach twisted at the call that both of them needed attention and fast. Kotallo is flushed with relief yet newly afraid for this strange squad of outlanders he has come to care for, that he has sworn to protect with his life.
He reaches for her again, hesitant. She eagerly accepts the contact and curls about his arm until her face presses to his good shoulder.
"...Hurts. I want to think about anything else but I just can't."
Kotallo frowns at the melted snowpack set aside on the table. He’ll have to step out and make her a new one. The storm outside doesn’t stall him; the squeezing of her grip as he makes to leave her does. He settles at Alva’s side again and pulls her into him, murmuring low and soft.
"I know, Alva. I’m sorry. You have been very brave, and this will soon pass. You could describe to me what you’re studying here if it helps to talk."
"It’s okay, you don’t need to do that. You're already being so nice to me," She pokes around the tender skin now burned lavender and hisses a sharp little breath. "I know it can be annoying when I ramble."
It’s a blow Kotallo feels in his gut. He almost lost her today; half a step slower and such a beast could have rendered her remains unrecognizable. Still, she feels the need to assuage him. "I… get overstimulated, sometimes. By anyone. You’ve given me plenty of opportunity to regale you with Tenakth history and allowed me privacy when I needed it. That's all I ask." He awaits her glance up to continue with honesty shining in his eyes. "Do not stifle your joy for my sake, now or ever."
Her smile is a watery, fragile thing. He would tear down a mountain of machines to preserve it.
"We could try a different meditation. The Chief’s medic taught me his own method when I was recuperating at the Grove. I admit, I can be a… difficult patient to look after on bedrest."
"No way, really?"
To Alva’s credit, he stutters. It takes him a moment too long to read her slow, innocent blinks for what they are. Kotallo growls, separating as if to leave, then abruptly tips her sideways onto the cushions. She rolls from her uninjured side to her back, smothering her own giggles, then shrieks as he seats himself over her legs.
"We’re almost ready for—" Beta appears in the doorway focused on a datapad. She looks up and her red brows crease, baffled. "What are you doing?"
"Helping."