Aloy really should be leaving.

Meridian had truly welcomed her with open arms, that Nora girl, little huntress. Aloy despite the Nora. And yet, after everything, all the stress of corrupted machines and the sheer amount of injured - not just soldiers, but people - people who rose up to fight, sitting here now, she still somehow manages to feel out of place.

Her bow is not where it should be, in those soft, calloused palms, but at her feet instead, avoiding the steps of waltzes and spins as she watches, almost too intently. Like her journey isn't complete. Or rather a weight heavy on her chest. How can she enjoy this when there's so much more waiting for her? It's not her fault she was forced to take a break

Where would she go, anyway? Aloy isn't sure. She needs to find Elisabet. And with GAIA restored, perhaps she can? But, maybe, and this is probably just because of Erend, and how he seems so at peace with his sister's sacrifice, now that everything is over. But, sitting around and watching one of the campfires glow in the Sundom's night isn't so bad of a lull in her hectic travels. It's probably just post war haze, though,

Aloy's never known a moment of peace before. But could this be it? She isn't sure, her foot, despite how it usually feels heavy with jobs to do, people the help, and secrets to discover, taps discreet and soft against cobbled floor, eyes fluttering to the small ensemble of musicians she's recognised from the Hunter's lodge before

She's never really been involved in parties before. Commemorating the end of a fierce battle. All the joy. And laughter, and that weird looking instrument, (a lute? She think she heard someone call it), playing all those songs. The jangle of oseram outfits and the soft sway of silks from carja mix together in a harmony that should've been weaved from the start, dancing in circles while others cheer. Though perhaps she could get used to it,

How it seems for a moment they're free. Maybe even in the old world. How amber and deep orange flame paint the floor, the walls, the smiling faces, or the lanterns of bunting strung from structure to structure. She's never seen this place so full. Even those who had been so mercilessly hurt are here. Drinking and chattering like a few hours ago they hadn't been grunting in agony,

She admires it. The carelessness of those unaffected by strict tribe rules. Banished for lifetimes as if they had truly committed the worst treason. This is what she was made for. To oversee finer details in the quiet of life. Well, not particularly quiet, but no one knows peace like a previously outcasted Nora. She'd go through it all again if she had too.

Regardless of deep reflections, Aloy sits, she's not trying to be some kind of party pooper. She just doesn't know what to do. Has never been accepted like this before, green eyes fluttering about to find any familiar face. Talanah, maybe? Or.. you.