Chapter Text
Her hands were small, compared to his. Kotallo was sure he could capture both wrists in the hand he had left, though keeping the hold would likely be a challenge. (he has thought about this more than he should) Small though they were, the outlander’s hands were not delicate, or soft, or easily subdued.
They were strong, scarred, often bruised and bloodied. (too often for his liking)
It started early, he realized, thinking back on it. He’d watched as she’d reached into the downed Tremortusk to disconnect the Plasma cannon the rest of the way. Nimble fingers pulling at wires like she knew exactly which one went where. (even though he was reasonably sure that was the first one she’d ever seen and only later would he come to realize the secret of the Focus that had allowed her such accuracy) It finally came free and she staggered under the weight, hands gripping the metal, bloodied knuckles white with the strain.
Those same fingers had grabbed a rebel’s chin and broken his neck more swiftly than most veterans could do before the battle started. And during it? Well, he’d been too busy keeping the other rebels off her during the fight but several times had caught a flash of fingers on bowstring or wrapped around the shaft of her strange spear. Something about it made his gut vibrate like hammered metal.
Right now Aloy was repairing a piece of armor in the common room of the Base. He’d noticed she was making an effort to spend more time out of her room on her infrequent returns. She wasn’t engaged in the conversation Zo, Varl, and Erend were having, but just sat. Her fingers carefully re-attaching a shoulder plate, twisting metal wire into place with an ease that spoke of the strength in her hands.
He knew what had knocked that shoulder plate loose - a Leaplasher cargo claw. The wound had been almost healed when Aloy returned to the base but the others fussed regardless. It frustrated and confused her, the care of her companions, but they were tireless and Aloy was relenting … slowly.
Metal scraped on metal as she slid the other side of the plate into place. Sunkissed hands spread over the blue-black surface. The scrape on her left third knuckle had healed, the scar intersecting with another, older one that he didn’t know the origin of. Together they looked a bit like an arrow streaking down her hand toward her finger.
There was a grease smear on her right hand. It would get transferred to her cheek at some point soon when she absently rubbed one against the other. (he had almost slipped a while back and reached out to wipe dirt from her face without thinking) She looped wire through the holes, using her Focus to guide her, oblivious to the laughter that suddenly rang through the room.
Or maybe not, her mouth tipped up slightly at the corner, and it was that same smile she’d directed his way as she’d put a hand on his arm before following Zo to the medical bay GAIA had opened for them. Kotallo’s heart thumped as he suddenly, inexplicably found himself thinking of the way her hand had felt on his skin. The heat even through the paint. The thought of those same fingers sliding over bare skin. The blood roar in his ears was not unlike the thunder that had been growling in the sky earlier in the day.
“Kotallo?” He realized Zo was speaking to him and dragged his gaze to her, ignored her curious smile. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Aloy?”
She didn’t look away from her work. Fingers twisting wire with smooth competency. “I’m almost done.”
“You’ll join us?”
There was that smile again, even as her hands never stopped moving. “I will, Zo. I promise.”