Chapter Text
It occurred to Sylens, having seen Aloy seeking contact with him, that there laid a golden opportunity therein.
She sought very few people from leisurely volition. She’d talk to just about anyone out of curiosity or necessity, but when the sun set and she made her camp by herself, it was Sylens name she’d test out. When she called out to him and he didn’t respond, she seemed disappointed. Not to mention the shameless display under the waterfall; the one recording Sylens could not bring himself to delete.
Aloy responded positively to seeing him, and the way she’d lightened at even a smile of his… If Sylens were to curate her to be obedient, all he had to do was lean into it.
All this time he’d tried to keep her at arm’s distance for the sake of quelling his body’s reaction to her. But if he were to welcome her contact, she might be more likely to obey more, and question and sass him less. Besides… Perhaps if Sylens indulged it, this stupid hormonal stint on part of his disloyal flesh might subside at last. In fighting it, he’d wasted precious minutes and hours to keep Aloy out of his mind and failing. He’d succumbed to his own touch more the last few weeks than in several years combined.
The maddening duality of this side of him that desired her, its impulses to converse with her, reply to her, to know her thoughts on things, and the sober, truer parts of himself that constantly had to snap out of his stupor.
If she felt tied to him, he would not have to leave his improved lance for her to find, in the hopes she’d pick it up; he could feign being her helper in her personal quest and simply hand her the weapon as a loving gift. She might even accept it out of some naive sentimentality. And, should she stumble on his past, she might be more inclined to overlook it for some lovelorn fear of losing him.
Aloy was also primed from childhood to defer to some sort of father figure, which was now conveniently vacant. Yes. This was a sound strategy.
So two nights later, Sylens waited for Aloy to make camp outside the Nora side of Dawn’s Sentinel and make herself comfortable. Were Sylens not the same flavor of recluse as she, he might have wondered why she made camp only just within sight of the Carja gates instead of among them, taking a room with the garrison as many travelers did. But she liked the stillness of nature at night too much — this Sylens did not share. The tranquility of solitude, yes, but he was lulled by the electrical hum of circuitry rather than the chirping of crickets and swallows on the wind.
When Sylens turned his camera on and stepped into view, Aloy was sitting by her campfire, looking surprised to see him. She started, hand hovering over her bow next to her.
”Sylens? What is wrong? Is there trouble?”
Sylens swallowed and stared at her. “No.”
”Then… to what do I owe the pleasure?”
It occurred to Sylens, somewhat too late, that solitude had in fact made him unused to conversing idly.
When it took him a moment to reply, Aloy’s mouth twitched into a small smile and she offered him a seat by her fire.
“I, uh… I just wanted to check in.”
Her brow furrowed and her grin widened, still on the cautious side. ”Check in?”
“If I am interrupting your idle time —”
He moved to sign off but Aloy stopped him. ”No, no. Stay. I just wasn’t expecting you to appear without so much as a hello. I thought you were in mortal peril or something.”
“I see. Hello,” Sylens said stiffly. He’d thought he’d have a plan going into this, with how intuitively he and Aloy fell in step as colleagues when she went delving, but this… idle chatter… That did not come naturally to him.
But to his elation, Aloy kept smiling.
”Hello. I’d uh… I’d offer you something to eat, but you’re not really here, so…”
“I appreciate the… sentiment.”
For a moment, they were quiet. Aloy’s brow had furrowed infinitesimally at ‘sentiment’ from his mouth. He could see a teasing remark take form behind her eyes, but she had the good sense to bite down on it now she had him there in some way. After all, she’d called out to him a few times, and this time Sylens had shown up of his own accord. Biting down on a joke was a price she’d pay.
Her face was gently lit from the side by her Focus interface, and it cast some interesting shadows on her lines now that it was dark outside. It lit her eyes in a way that resembled an Ember lens. Large, intelligent, glittering, shifting in emerald and lavender. His heart beat faster.
”I nearly shot you. I’m sorry,” she began awkwardly.
Sylens smirked slightly at the futility of doing so, seeing as he was merely a projection before her. “No need. You would have wounded me none.”
”True, but it strikes me as impolite somehow.”
“No more impolite than my showing up unannounced,” Sylens conceded bashfully, “I apologize. I should have given more warning.”
”I should have expected it,” Aloy shrugged, ”At this point I, uh… kinda assume you’re watching me most of the time.”
Again, with the hint to him watching her bathe. He would never live it down. She reveled in making him uncomfortable with the reminder. Unless… She wanted him to admit something there?
“I do have other things that occupy my time, Aloy,” Sylens began to chide her, but catching how snide that sounded, he course-corrected promptly. “I… do not often speak to others anymore. It seems I am out of practice.”
”So why tonight? Not the times I tried to call you?”
“I was concerned about your injury,” he lied effortlessly, and Aloy looked a little taken aback.
”It is a bit of a funny angle towards the back, but I think I cleaned it thoroughly. I’m not in much pain unless I draw the bow.”
“That might have to do with your hair.”
Aloy made a befuddled face. ”My hair?”
“Yes. I came across some medical data that indicated that your unusual hair color comes with other oddities. Your pain tolerance might be somewhat heightened compared to others, which might to some small degree explain your edge in battle. It also means you require less pain medicine to feel an effect, and that you would be far harder to sedate — to put to sleep by any means of potions or gas.”
”Huh,” Aloy chuckled, ”I’ve never met anyone with my hair color before. Was it common in the Old World?”
“From my limited data, I would not call it common, but it certainly wasn’t as… unique as it is today.”
”Thank you, I think?”
“Point is, your wound may be more serious than it feels to you. I want to ascertain that you are not going to bleed out or suffer infection.”
”Speaking of unique; what’s with the cables? Are you a shaman?”
Sylens glanced down at the body modifications he’d had made when he frequented Ban-Ur. They rippled down his arms, made strong and lean from hauling heavy machinery and bits of metal scrap around for his soldering.
“More of a tinker. As you may have surmised, I am not exactly spiritual by nature.”
”They make you look half-machine. How do you make them glow?”
Did he detect a hint of admiration in her voice, or merely polite curiosity?
He gazed down at his arms, bare always as he wore his soft goatskin tunic.
“There is a chemical component that makes them absorb light from other sources and emit it out at a slower rate.”
Aloy reached her finger out, completely unashamed, as if to run her finger along their length. Sylens froze watching her hand reach for him, trying to swallow his heart back down from behind his tonsils. He had other visible cables, down his thighs and ankles. They splayed across his back too, like blue wings in the dark.
”Did they hurt going in?”
“Oh yes. But once healed, they began to move with me. No tugging or pulling. The Banuk shamans believe the cables connect them to machines more strongly for having them; that the machines are less likely to see a foe in you. It also harkens to Banukai, the foremother, who defeated the enemy of her people carrying the Blue Machine light within her.”
”How long has it been since you left Ban-Ur?”
“Some years now. I have never considered it home.” He didn’t have to tell her that he had never been born there at all; a harmless lie by omission. He carried on. “May I inspect your injury?”
The directness of his question made Aloy smirk, but she didn’t protest or comment. Instead, she moved to remove the soft hareskin tunic she bore under her armor plates. As the garment moved over her head, Sylens swallowed while watching her undress, if only in part, and the ghost of her naked body splayed across his imagination again. She wore a breast band underneath the tunic which protected her modesty, if she had any, and kept her somewhat supported during the strenuous parts of her day.
She turned where she sat, gathering that thick red mane of hers and sweeping it across the opposing shoulder so he could see the injury closer.
In the nightly chill, Aloy shuddered and the small hairs on the backs of her arms stood up. Her back and shoulders rippled with lean muscles. She wrapped her arms around herself against it and seemed to shift closer to her fire.
“You’ll have to remove the dressing for me to see,” Sylens mumbled, and Aloy obliged.
Her hands moved slowly as she worked, and he saw her shoulders move as she breathed. Aloy gave a small hiss of discomfort, the moss poultice gave way to her hand.
The wound was shallow and looked nastier than it likely was. The stray pixels that indicated the freckles on her shoulders and upper arms etched on Sylens’ eyelids and he felt his heartbeat heavy and slow in his chest. Had he been there in the flesh, she might have felt how heavily he was breathing against the nape of her neck.
“You require some stitches,” he noted and stepped away slightly, “But I see no sign of infection. So long as it’s clean and covered, you are in no immediate medical peril.”
”There’s a healer in Free Heap,” Aloy mumbled and began to redress the wound, ”I’ll make sure to stop by tomorrow. Thank you… for checking. Feels strange to actually have help with this stuff for once.”
She turned to look at him, so close he could almost fathom the ghost of her breath on his face.
“My pleasure,” Sylens said slowly and deliberately. He could have made some remark about needing her hale and healthy for her delving but he refrained, and Aloy noted that too, sitting so close to him.
This was good. She didn’t pull away, and she didn’t hurry to dress again. Admittedly that would be irrational and unnecessary given he’d already seen everything, but the way they lingered in each others’ space created a tension that made Sylens’ stomach knot with expectation. Aloy’s eyes flickered across his face, inspecting him closely for micro expressions, clues to read. She wasn’t deterred or uncomfortable with him so close, even if it was merely a mirage.
”Why are you being nice to me?” she asked. ”I mean, really. You haven’t said a single reprehensible thing since you got here. It’s practically doting.”
A quick lie fell out of his mouth. “I couldn’t sleep. My mind is swirling from USRC. I am frustrated that every time I think we’re on the cusp of answers, more questions arise. All those people threw themselves into death’s jaws for Zero Dawn.”
”I thought you didn’t care about th—oh, it’s the illogical aspect of it, isn’t it? Not their courage.”
“Aloy, they lived a thousand years ago,” Sylens began, “There is no way that they’d be alive today, even had they survived the assault on their base.”
Aloy bit her lip, and Sylens had to stop himself from tutting at her.
”You mentioned cryogenics… for Elisabet. But you don’t actually think she might still be alive somewhere.”
Sylens took a moment to choose his words cautiously.
“Elisabet was… is exceptional. The foremost intellect of her age, the mind that staved off an insurmountable threat to our world. I cannot deny that the possibility of her preservation isn’t nil, but I am loath to instill you with futile hope. Elisabet was exceptional, same as you, and perhaps as such, an exception was made for her.”
He didn’t have to tell her his suspicion that she might be the woman in the flesh, rejuvenated somehow as a means to defy the passage of time and death. She would not take kindly to that hypothesis.
Aloy smiled in thanks to the compliment. ”You’re awfully generous with your praise lately.”
“I won’t pretend to have the ability to do even half the things you have done on our journey together. Door access notwithstanding.”
”Yet more flattery.”
“I do not flatter. I make observations.”
Aloy looked at him for a moment, considering him. If she was about to read him to filth the same way she’d done not long ago, he was braced for it this time. He had given her many openings and amply bolstered her confidence. If she were to take the bait, now would be the time for her to do it. If he’d proven himself worthy of her trust beyond mere collaboration and onto some personal sphere. She swallowed, as if weighing a question on her tongue, and Sylens made a face to encourage her to come out with it.
”Sylens… Did you really show up out of nowhere in the middle of the night just to check my injury? After the other day?” Her eyebrows raised, pertaining to her shower. "Showering me with praise and stuff? Were you… really just struggling to sleep?”
“That bit was true,” Sylens admitted after a moment’s pause, “But you are right that I… obfuscated my real reason for seeking your company tonight. It is as much a coincidence as your own ruse for me the other morning. The truth of the matter is that you occupy my every waking thought since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
There. He’d acknowledged what had transpired when she lured him. Aloy’s eyes flicked momentarily to his mouth. She couldn’t kiss him. She couldn’t even touch him. He was merely a ghost to her there. But that instant her eyes betrayed her, Sylens knew he had her where he wanted her.
”I’m sorry for luring you,” she mumbled, and Sylens scoffed slightly.
“That, you are not. You’ve gotten plenty of teasing out of it.”
”Is it really so terrible?” Her lower lip pouted ever so slightly and she cocked her head slightly.
“Don't try that transparent demure act with me, Aloy,” he warned her, and she smiled.
”You sure ran pretty fast.”
Sylens nailed her with his eyes. “I would be a fool not to respect your aim, Aloy. But I could not have taken my eyes off you if I’d tried.”
He was a magnificent liar. The heartfelt, whispering quality to his voice as he said it, as if he truly were choked up with emotion. It came so effortlessly to him that he almost believed himself.
Not letting his eyes go, Aloy untucked the end of her breast band and began to slowly unwrap it. The entire time, she watched Sylens’ reaction. She'd find mo protest or shunning. Sylens wanted Aloy, and he was coming to terms with admitting it.
She had to wiggle slightly, and with how close she was, had she been there in person, her cheek would have brushed his and her hair would have gently fallen down his collarbones.
“Aloy… This is foolish. We shouldn’t—”
She set her brow, serious and stubborn, but that softness over her eyes didn’t subside.
”I want to look at you. I want to see you looking at me.”
Sylens could hear his pulse, thudding through his body. He stood transfixed, watching as this unparalleled beauty bared herself before him, feeling so hard that he ached. His palms burned from wanting to cup those breasts. He leaned over her, towering over her, his lips hovering over her mouth.
“What I wouldn’t give to touch you. I can’t remember the last time.”
Aloy’s eyes lit up, her pupils blown so wide, they must appear black without the holo filter. Watching her in secret paled compared to her undressing just for him. Her eye contact was brazen and curious. She’d never learned to feel ashamed or bashful like some simpering Carja strumpet.
When Aloy let out a small sigh, it burned in Sylens’ ear. In the cold night air, her pink nipples contracted into two hard nubs, all but begging for his thumb to smooth them over.
He saw Aloy swallow, heard the vague pitter-patter of her heart through her vitals, watched her throat move, long and graceful, dusted with rust-colored freckles that beckoned to be kissed.
Her hands, rough and calloused, small as they were, came around her breasts, fingertips slow and careful as they circled the roundness of her. Sylens stretched out his hand. He could never touch her through the interface, but the gesture affirmed to this beautiful woman sitting on her knees across from him that he would touch her if he could, that he wanted to touch her. Aloy’s eyes fixed on that hand and her pulse quickened even more.
Then her eyes trailed down his body and fixed on his stiffness, jutting out under his trousers.
A breathy smile ghosted across her face, having found the proof of his desire assuring, and her hands came too, smoothing the air over Sylens’ arms.
Slowly, Sylens removed the utility belt he had strapped across his chest and gently tossed it aside, before reaching to the nape of his tunic to pull it off over his head.
Aloy’s eyes were greedy and curious as they traveled down his body. Sylens had more cables running under his skin, following his ribs and trailing down towards his hips. The body alterations he’d had to undergo had been extensive but seeing Aloy’s eyes widen at the sight made the pain worth it, even if the data from Ban-Ur had been disappointing.
Aloy’s hands met over his heart and then moved downwards like running water. If Sylens didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he could feel her touch, no more than a ripple on the wind. His chest was hairless, but he had a small trail of hair from his navel to his cock, and Aloy’s fingertips traced that route now. He twitched, as if he’d felt her fingertips tracing the outline of his hardness. When Aloy’s fingers lingered over him, Sylens decided to help her along; tracing his hand down his chest and stomach until he could wrap his fingers around the thick shaft through the fabric, letting Aloy see how hard he was for her. A small stroke of his thumb made him give the tiniest grunt, and Aloy’s eyes locked to his mouth.
Sylens’ free hand traced along the line of her chin. When his hand trailed downwards, Aloy leaned her head, hair gently wafting to the side, to welcome his touch to her neck.
Her own thumbs hooked under the lining of her soft pelt leggings and she slowly wiggled them down over her buttocks, revealing more freckled expanses of her skin as her hips bared. Of course she wore nothing underneath.
But then came her knees, and here it would be hard for her to remain close to him and still get the garment fully off.
“Lie on your back,” Sylens whispered, and she obliged him, sinking down into her bedroll, hair splaying out around her head like a stream of copper and bronze. She raised her feet enough to free her legs from the leggings, and they fell out of view with a soft rustle.
”Let me see you,” she breathed, and Sylens felt like his blood simmer from hearing her voice so thick and breathy in his ear. His eyes followed the lines of her legs, to the soft, red mound of sex, shining slightly with arousal.
How many times had he imagined this, fantasized about this? Aloy underneath him, waiting to be had? Waking, dreaming, drowsy from sleep. And still, not one instant came close to just the image of her lying before him, slick and wanting. Were that she were here, he’d have lost his self-control as soon as she’d laid hands on him.
He untied the belt and let the trousers fall down, revealing his swollen, aching cock. Aloy gasped, and when Sylens gripped himself again, Aloy’s fingers started to trace circles across her skin, tickling her skin until it prickled with delight.
Now it was Sylens’ turn to grip with the logistics of fully removing trousers from a seated position. He would not lie on his back. He opted for another route. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Aloy as if he might mount her where she lay, letting his mouth ghost over her stomach. Aloy raised her hips towards his mouth, momentarily forgetting that touch was impossible, just on the impulse to meet his face with her body. Wanton, yearning. She looked at Sylens with desire, something Sylens would not have fathomed possible were it not for her bathing in the hopes that it might catch his eyes.
He kicked the trousers discreetly down his shins and freed his feet, sitting back up on his knees between Aloy’s thighs.
She coiled them over his own thighs, placing her feet on the ground, baring her wet sex for Sylens’ eyes to devour. Were she really before him, he’d feel the soft warmth of her skin, smell the lust she must be exuding, tangle himself in those strong legs. She would be able to put her feet against his buttocks and help him fuck her harder. Parting those red curls and spear her open on his cock. Sylens gave himself a tight stroke at the thought, groaning low.
Aloy was so wet that he could see a slight sheen on the insides of her thighs, and he hadn’t even touched her — she’d barely even touched herself.
That needed to be rectified. After having listened to her touching herself all those weeks ago in the Embrace, knowing the delectable little noises she made in her throes, he wanted to hear it again, and this time see it too. With his free hand, he curled his fingers around the shape of her wrist, almost as if asking her to dance, and Aloy’s hand began to follow. She leaned into the illusion of their touch, letting him lead her hand to her red curls and the folds of her sex.
“For me,” he asked low, and Aloy bit her lip as she parted herself before him, letting him delight in her swollen arousal. Her cunt was dark pink with lust, and Sylens licked his lips. He wanted to taste her, to know what that fresh, beautiful woman tasted like. Her fingertips began to circle her clit, softly, almost delicately, showing him precisely how to she made herself feel good.
Her leg twitched slightly, and Sylens grasped himself in hand, stroking his cock in time with those sweet little noises she made as she rode her own fingers before him. She was sublime, her breasts rocking gently as her body moved and coiled with pleasure. If he were there, Sylens would cup both her breasts in his hands, kiss them in turn, grinding his hips against her hand so that she’d press even harder against her clit. He’d suck those cute little nipples until they were as swollen as her cunt, until she moaned his name.
A pearl of cum began to form on his cock head, and he used it to lubricate his ministrations. He could feel something hot coil in the bottom of his stomach, tense up and scald him from within, a sweet ache that was the harbinger of release.
Aloy watched transfixed as he stroked his cock, and then with a small whimper she plunged two fingers into herself, matching his timing, one leg rising into the air, almost cradling his hips between her shaking thighs, showing Sylens how she wanted to fuck him. And how he would fuck her. He'd grasp her leg and use it to thrust so hard into her that she'd cry out. That image made Sylens stroke himself faster, exalted by the mere fantasy of her.
Her free hand was rubbing her nipple, then she grabbed her own hair by the scalp as if looking for something, anything, to hold on to as pleasure ravaged her.
Her little whimpers and moans came in a rapid-fire burst into Sylens’ ear, spurring him on as he fucked his own hand, wishing it was Aloy in its stead.
She was so beautiful like this. So open and trusting, with a rising blush spreading across her collarbones.
Without touch, their sounds became the queue by which they read one another. Sylens would normally bite down on any sound he felt compelled to make when he touched himself, but for Aloy, he released that lock on his composure, moaning low and hard so that she’d know how good she looked, how badly he wanted to lose himself in her. In allowing himself to make sounds, he found new depths to his pleasure. With the abandon of release, with sweat pearling on his brow, with this beautiful woman with that brilliant mind willing and wanton under him, Sylens began to fuck his hand with a fervour he never allowed himself normally. Every stroke of his cock electrified his entire body, timed with Aloy’s moans. Would that he could ever get Aloy into his bed for real — hell, sat atop his work bench or bent over it, cupping her ass so he could watch her tight little cunt clench around him, making her straddle him and ride him like a mount so he could bounce her up and down his cock, the images came in staccato — he would spend hours in painfully long strokes into her wanton sex just to revel in the freedom of moaning her name.
And her name did escape his lips. Were his mind clear, he'd cringe with regret at how needy he sounded. But if he were to expel her from his feverish blood, he'd have to yield entirely to this carnal depravity.
To finally allow himself this indulgence after fighting his attraction for so long felt like breathing fresh air for the first time. He didn’t feel alone, or ashamed, or frustrated with his body with Aloy under him like this, fucking herself senseless wishing it were him instead.
Aloy’s whimpers became higher and her knees started to rise and coil together in front of him. Her climax was on the rise, and he spurred her on, whispering her name with the tint of desperation he felt for his own release. He was suddenly awash with tenderness for this slip of a woman, who had endured so much hardship and still felt it apropos to trust him. Naive as it was, it revealed a candor and a hope Sylens had not felt since he was a youth.
When orgasm came over him, it startled him with its almost painful intensity, just as Aloy erupted before him. It was animalistic and any conscious thought fell away as a red mist fell over his eyes. His seed spilled through her image, down over his knuckles, staining the ground where she lay before him. Aloy was coming too, twitching and moaning between sealed lips, fingers plowing so deep into her cunt that she was riding her own palm.
She shuddered in the afterquakes, and Sylens watched dazedly as she came down from her high.
For once, he didn’t feel ashamed or soiled like he normally did after pleasuring himself. If anything, he wanted his quiver to refill instantly so that he could fuck her senseless again, just to revel in her voice.
That Aloy could bring him a climax so strong just by looking at her… She was an unparalleled being in every way. The closest to an equal Sylens had. Her unique beauty, her rust-red hair and dusted skin, the astounding green of her eyes, the sweetness of her moans…
His hand trailed over her thigh, still arched in the air as if he really sat between her knees, down over her stomach, softly rounded as she arched her back to meet him. Her fingers tangled in her hair and her breast heaved, whimpering on the exhale. So sweet, so trusting… so foolish. So beautiful with that bliss and blush reddening her cheeks, inviting the hand. He was calloused and rough, but he found himself longing for the feel of her skin. Sylens was coming down, watching the expanse of her body laid out before him. He’d hoped that in indulging himself with her, he might cool off enough to concentrate but if anything, this impulse to cradle her, the knowledge that she wanted to cleave to him right back… It made him even more feverish, wanting to touch her for real. He didn’t feel sullied but he did feel… lonely.
He cleared his throat and Aloy’s eyes fluttered open.
”Everything alright?"
“More than alright. That was—”
”Yeah. Yeah, it was.” She was quiet for a moment, before rolling over and reaching back for her tunic, bare legs still long and stretched out, and then she smiled, hugging her knees. ”I uh… I used to wonder what all the fuss was, but I think I’m starting to understand.”
“Am I supposed to know what you mean?” Sylens said and shimmied his own tunic back on.
”The Focus. Seeing through walls and tents… I’ve, uh… I’ve seen a whole lot of intimate moments. On top of the odd couple going at it in the woods in the Nora lands. I used to wonder what made people so careless and indiscreet about sex, especially given how loath some people are to talk about it. But…”
“But what?”
”I think I get it now.”
Sylens smiled at her cheeky grin. “I didn’t even touch you.”
Aloy shrugged. ”Here’s hoping.”
Sylens’ heart skipped a beat at the prospect. And it was stupid of his body to react like that. He knew he was going to meet Aloy someday, he was planning for it, so that he could hand her the lance he’d crafted for her. So why did the idea of being in the room with her make his cheeks feel warm?
“You are not concerned with my age?”
”Most people are older than me.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
”I don’t mind.” Aloy sat straighter, speaking with a more somber cadence, smoothing her brow to look just like Sobeck. ”Perhaps if I made myself sound older...”
Sylens scoffed. “It is not Elisabet I — no matter. You should sleep.”
”Hang on!” Aloy protested in her own voice. ”Want to what?”
Sylens watched her eyes. Eager. Playful. Still blushing. Somewhat euphoric off her post-orgasm hormone surge, same as him. She was anticipating him to say something… sweet? Seductive?
“... Converse with.”
Aloy scoffed, picking up her wooden spoon and flicking it through Sylens’ image. It passed right through him and he sighed at her.
”You expect me to believe you showed up tonight just to converse with me?”
He bristled and gave a lighthearted snort. “There’s nothing that could have predicted what just transpired between us.”
She swallowed for a moment, but then sighed. ”You got that right. Was it… okay?”
Now her age showed. She’d still not lain with anyone in the flesh, but Sylens knew for a fact that tonight was the closest Aloy had ever been to a sexual experience — taking great pains to not let the memory of that psychotic vagabond lunatic kissing Aloy sully his moment.
This was vulnerable for her. And therein lay the means to making her even more beholden to him.
“I… lack words to express what that meant to me.”
And to his great regret, Sylens found that he faked that a little too well.
Aloy swallowed, clearly moved, and smiled. A sudden sense of urgent panic made itself known in the back of Sylens’ throat. He had to temper this. He was not comfortable making overtures, and he needed Aloy to concentrate on the mission first. This intermission was merely a tool for make her heed him. Guiding Aloy through his old haunts without her realizing the extent of his involvement with the Eclipse was paramount; should she catch on, this frail new bond to him would fray and his control over her would ebb out.
“But Aloy… We must keep our heads about us. The next mission will be dangerous, more so than any before.”
”I just fought off a fully functional Deathbringer single handedly,” she began to protest, but he stopped her, taking pains to look conflicted.
“Aloy, you have sought answers for a mere few months, I have sought them for a lifetime. Until they are resolved, I cannot rest, I cannot dawdle.”
Sensing a cold shoulder, Aloy began to brace. ”You had no trouble ‘dawdling’ a minute ago.”
“Understand me; whatever I feel for you, or you for me… It cannot come to pass unless we get those answers. I… I need you to finish this for the both of us. Whatever happens between us after that, I will have the bandwidth for it.”
Her brow furrowed, dubious and angered. ”You mean we cannot be together unless I do this for you.”
“I am hardly a passive passenger, Aloy.”
”No, that is precisely what you are,” she countered, ”You press the odd button as a diversion, but I am the one with my ass on the line here! I knew you were using me in that respect, but I would not have thought you'd stoop so low as to — Why don’t you come down here and do some heavy lifting with me?!”
“I am doing the lion’s share here. Because there are bigger things afoot than just you and your mother,” he pressed, and Aloy scoffed, instantly doused, getting up and scrambling her kit back on. “Aloy.”
She huffed like an angry boar, pulling her leggings up so hard she bounced on the balls of her feet.
”Yeah. Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to you when I get to Evening’s Sign. If you’re not scared to ‘dawdle’ again.”
And just like that, she switched the call off, and Sylens’ chambers were colder, darker… lonelier than ever.