#oc: turakina sagahl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paintedscales · 7 months

Text

003. Ura

With the idea in mind to go to Reunion to find materials to repair her morin khuur, Bayarmaa invites Nomin along so that she does not have to stay alone at the ger among the Sagahl. With more freedoms than she has ever been used to since before that visit, Nomin finds excitement and wonder in being able to visit the other stalls run by a number of other tribes on the Steppe. It is also here that she is, for the first time, presented with choices she never got the privilege to make before.

Word Count: 4,761

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

Nomin had gotten used to waking up with Esenaij having already departed from the ger early in the morning during her time among the Sagahl. She had gotten used to having a breakfast of fruits, veggies, or boiled grain alongside Bayarmaa before she was then taught more about the plants and herbs that had been more readily available to the both of them. It had started to become the normal routine for the current location of the Sagahl, not that Nomin seemed to mind too much.

Nights when Esenaij had come back from Reunion and Nomin was still awake, she would often excitedly inquire about how his day had been and what trades he had made. Though he had almost always answered these questions starting with an exhausted groan, Nomin had been enamored with a number of new items and stories that had been brought back. One of her favorite things had been some of the brass rings that she was later informed were used to make an armor mesh.

Nomin admittedly did not really understand, but Bayarmaa later showed her what Esenaij meant by his information. She was even granted an invitation to try on the chain-reinforced deel and excitedly accepted. After Bayarmaa had been finished affixing it, Nomin looked herself over, the weight of the metal within the deel making even standing a bit of a workout for her much smaller frame.

There were a number of things that Nomin had found herself getting to experience for the first time. Bayarmaa had gone out of her way a lot of the time to offer Nomin sweet fruits or things she had cooked. She had also gone out of her way to allow Nomin some freedoms, like being able to sit and draw when she had expressed interest. Nomin had even gotten to sit with Bayarmaa as she wove stories before they tucked in for the night.

"Nomin…" Bayarmaa softly woke her up one morning. "I'm going to Reunion with Esenaij today. Did you want to come with us?"

Stirring, there was a moment when Nomin grunted in response, though she eventually cracked open her eyes and looked blearily up at Bayarmaa. She still felt the tug of wanting to sleep weighing heavily on her eyes, though she eventually sat herself up and rubbed away the sore, achy tiredness that she woke up with. Sighing and then yawning, Nomin scooched a bit to the edge of the bed and placed her feet on the ground.

“... Is that a yes?” Bayarmaa asked, standing back up to her full height and looking down at Nomin curiously.

“... I guess…” Nomin replied, her voice laced with the gravelly croak of having just woken up.

“Alright. Do you want me to brush your hair?” Bayarmaa offered, smiling gently.

“Mm…sure…” Nomin looked over at the nearby shelf and reached over. Taking the wooden comb, she handed it to Bayarmaa who sat down next to Nomin on the bed and started to run the comb through the younger Xaela's hair. It was silent for a time, at least until Nomin finally asked: “... Why are you going with Esenaij into Reunion?”

“Well…” Bayarmaa paused momentarily. “I’d like to see what seeds and bulbs have been brought in from foreign merchants. Plus, I have to buy some more horse hair for my morin khuur. Everything else -- cedar resin and larch -- I have access to in order to either repair my bow, or make a new one."

"You can play?"

"A little bit. But I haven't been able to because it's a little broken." Bayarmaa finished combing through Nomin’s hair, having getting it all smoothed out. Leaning over, she placed the comb back down on one of the shelves. "Now then…go and get yourself washed up and dressed. I'll keep Esenaij busy so he doesn't start on his way without us."

"Mhm!" Nomin hummed, feeling a little more awake now that she had been more mentally stimulated with light conversation. She slipped off the bed and went over to the small dresser where hers and Bayarmaa’s clothes were kept.

Most of Nomin's clothes had been Bayarmaa’s hand-me-downs that fit her. Anything that allowed her to represent the tribe of Sagahl while she was adopted and integrated into the tribe and culture. Her clothes from the Tumet had been neatly folded and kept close to the bedside where she slept. Admittedly, she was not quite sure what to do with them for now, but she kept them all the same.

Once dressed, Nomin hurried along outside where it looked like Bayarmaa was annoying Esenaij in some way. Not only that, but there was another woman who had chin-length green hair with them that Nomin felt like she had met only briefly. That woman seemed to also have been poking some level of fun at Esenaij -- that was what Nomin could infer, anyway, what with their laughing and Esenaij’s stern expression.

"I'm ready!" Nomin called, walking with a small skip to her step toward the loaded up wain. She crawled into the bed without hesitation and sat among the boxes and sacks with a wide smile on her face. Not long after, Bayarmaa walked over and took a ripened plum from a crate to hand off to Nomin; breakfast. Even if Esenaij gave Bayarmaa a bit of a stink eye for it.

"You won't get to ride the wain back home," Esenaij informed Nomin, looking pointedly over to her as she started nibbling on the rind of the fruit. He then looked at Bayarmaa. "Though, I suppose nothing would be stopping you from staying in Reunion for the day."

“That’s fine…I think…” Nomin responded, more in regards to not being able to ride the wain back. She then looked over at the new woman that had been giggling alongside Bayarmaa momentarily. Cocking her head to the side, Nomin then asked, “who are you?”

“Hm? Oh! I’m Turakina. We never really did get to introduce ourselves the first time we met, huh?” the woman introduced, offering Nomin a grin before she walked over to the wain and sat on the edge of it. The jostling and sudden weight made Esenaij grunt with annoyance as he readjusted his harness and sharply pulled on it to redistribute the weight while also getting Turakina to back off a little bit.

"She'll be coming with us to Reunion, too," Bayarmaa informed Nomin.

"Have to make sure that Esenaij doesn't forget my dear mother's favorite foreign import from the Far West, after all: galago mint." Turakina then elbowed Esenaij playfully in the ribs with a grin. "He's usually good about it, but I just can't take my chances today."

"You can simply state that you want to go because Bayarmaa’s going…" Esenaij said, walking forward to finally start them all on their way.

"I could have, but it's a less fun answer than the one that would get under your scales."

A smile found its way onto Nomin’s face as she lifted a hand and giggled at their interaction. Settling back down on the wain, Nomin had kept herself aware of the conversations going on at the very least as she drummed her hands on the crate that she leaned against. Her tiredness had ebbed away completely as she piped up and got to speak more with the others while they traveled along.

Nomin learned that Turakina had been a friend of Esenaij and Bayarmaa since they were kids -- even before they were Nomin’s age! She also learned that Turakina’s mother was still the Sagahl's go-to healer, and that Turakina herself had been the one that often went and made herself available to visit with children that were sick or ailing in some way. It was honestly rather amazing to learn about all of the ways the Sagahl used plants for healing medicines and salves when Turakina touched upon their practices.

Honestly, it was quite a bit of information that Nomin started to pretend to keep up with after some time as she ate. Having given the plum pit to Bayarmaa after she was done, Nomin did what she could to learn more about Turakina's methods of alchemy to make healing poultices. She nodded and asked questions, though it was once they had actually reached Reunion that Nomin's attention had quickly shifted. She was quick to hop out of the wain, earning a miffed grumble from Esenaij all the while as she ran ahead with an excited bounce to her step.

"Don't stray too far, Nomin!" Bayarmaa called out, a hand cupped aside her mouth.

"I won't!" Nomin called back, not turning to look back at them. She had already recalled where Esenaij had set up his stall from the last time she had been there. Now she just wanted to explore and see more of what the markets had on display! After all, the few times that she had been there, she had only ever been carried around by her birth parents, or instructed to sit and stay by Esenaij.

The sizzle and crack of a nearby stall had captured Nomin’s attention at first, the smell of frying boortsog enticing her further to come take a look. She peered around the stall and saw the woman who manned it fanning flames that a cast-iron wok sat upon, a flat strainer sitting on top to prevent the popping oil from getting everywhere -- namely the woman.

A brief touch upon Nomin’s shoulder gave her a start before she turned and looked up to see Bayarmaa who smiled down at her.

“Esenaij is setting up. I figured he would have wanted me around a little longer to help, but he told me to hurry with my shopping,” Bayarmaa informed Nomin with a slight grimace to her words. “Now then…we have a good bell or so before all the stalls are up and running, I’d imagine. Was there anything you wanted?”

Nomin hummed, thinking hard about anything she wanted. When she was with her biological parents within the Tumet and visiting Reunion, she had no say in anything that they had gotten. She was always made to stay close and to stay quiet -- either that, or she had been rather carelessly given into the care of a volunteer caretaker or caretakers that took care of other children from other tribes while their parents or tribes visited. Having Bayarmaa actually ask her what she wanted was…actually a little overwhelming, honestly!

“Do you want to have a look around first, then? We can see what you might like and bring it back with us. After I’ve paid or traded for it, of course.” Bayarmaa had been patient and gentle with her words, offering an alternative to simply straining in thought over every possibility of what could have been there. When Nomin nodded, Bayarmaa looked around before offering her hand and having Nomin take it so that they could walk together.

They passed a number of empty stall plots, and stalls that were still being set up as the morning stretched on. It was only when the sun’s light glinted off sparkling jewelry, baubles, and metalworks that Nomin had let go of Bayarmaa’s hand and hurried ahead. Her tail wiggled behind her with a sense of intrigue as she looked at the brass, tungsten, iron, copper, and goldworks. Wonder was evident in her eyes as she looked between the rings, necklaces, bracelets, and horn jewelry.

“Bayarmaa, look! Like the rings Esenaij brought back!” Nomin shouted, beaming widely as she pointed at the box of brass rings.

Walking over, Bayarmaa looked over the jewelry that was on display before looking at the box of rings that Nomin had been looking at. Allowing a silent scoff of amusement to fall from her nostrils, Bayarmaa turned her attention toward the stall owners that looked to have been setting up a small wooden trough so that the dzo they used was getting fed. Though the sight made Bayarmaa hold back a bit of a grimace, she waved toward the woman dressed in a dark, airy cloak.

Looking up, the woman walked toward them, offering a smile in greeting.

“Sister of the Sagahl, I humbly welcome you to browse wares of the Ura,” the woman said, motioning toward the jewelry. She also pointed out a sturdy set of crates that were on a nearby wain parked next to the stall itself. The crates held within them cleaned up, glittering chunks of unrefined ore. “The mountains’ bounties were favorable this past year, and our miners and metalworkers both are proud to showcase our works for trade ere we return.”

“I think my…my sister here is more interested in looking at what you have,” Bayarmaa replied with only brief hesitance, gazing down at Nomin, who was absolutely enamored with all the different shiny metal objects.

“I suspect that the Sagahl have plenty of bounty of their own to trade should anything meet your fancy,” the Ura woman replied, glancing down at Nomin and then leaning down. She smiled and then moved the box of brass rings forward a small ways. “Quite interesting that you seem to be taken with these. They’re more used for armor pieces and some reinforcement for those that would want to craft their own protective wares to their liking.”

Truthfully, Nomin just liked how there were a good number of them and how they shimmered under the light. Looking up at Bayarmaa, Nomin sidled a little closer to her before looking back at the various items. She then reached out for one of the tungsten rings -- it had a band of copper and gold embedded in it. Turning it over in her hands, Nomin did like it quite a lot, but she put it back on the stall countertop before drumming her hands on the top and then reaching over for a copper bracelet with jasper inlays.

“Some of these might be a little large for you, Nomin,” Bayarmaa chuckled. She hid the relief that surfaced in the form of a sigh when Nomin put the ring back. She reached over herself to pick up and examine some of the other pieces of jewelry. “But…I suppose you could easily grow right into them in a couple years’ time.”

“I just want something neat. Useful, maybe…” Nomin replied, putting back the other thing she had picked up.

“‘Useful’? I don’t imagine any of these would be useful to you…” Bayarmaa hummed in thought, bringing a finger to her chin.

“It’s just pretty, I guess,” Nomin admitted. She was not sure what she would have used anything like the bands, chains, or horn decorations for anything aside from simply looking at them whenever she wanted. The Tumeti trial stuck with Nomin, though, and she looked up at the Ura who manned the stall. Looking up is when she noticed the sheathed blades that were mounted up out of the reach of children like herself, and that was when Nomin pointed up at them instead of asking the question that had been at her lips.

“I want one of those!” Nomin suddenly said, jabbing her finger up a few times to make sure that Bayarmaa knew exactly what she was pointing at.

Bayarmaa brought a finger to her chin, a perplexed expression crossing her face as she thought about the logistics of trading for a weapon to give to a child of ten summers. The logical part of her brain had been telling her not to simply give into Nomin’s whims, especially when it came to the handling of weaponry. Though another part of her had been curious, especially when it seemed Nomin had been so adamant. She looked toward the Ura shopkeeper and hesitantly relented after a moment, if only to at least humor Nomin. “One of your shorter blades, if you would?”

Without question, the shopkeeper reached up and pulled one of the shorter sheathed blades from its mount and placed it before Bayarmaa. There was only a momentary glance in Nomin’s direction, though the perked up expression on Nomin’s face made the Ura woman chuckle only slightly.

Bayarmaa had taken up the sheath -- it was made of hardened and polished leather, and it had been reinforced with an iron tip. Taking the handle of the blade, she pulled it out and looked at it. It was certainly a new craft with nary a scratch upon its sharpened steel. Though she was loath to hand it off to Nomin so willingly, Bayarmaa had sheathed it and slowly handed it to her.

Perhaps having such a blade was for the best, especially given the nature of other tribes on the Steppe… After all, she and Esenaij had learned well enough how to use bows and arrows to fend for themselves should it come down to it.

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

Nomin had tentatively taken up the sheathed blade, much to Bayarmaa’s surprise. Though the longer she considered it, the more she had to consider the reason Nomin must have taken to the blades in the first place. The trial of the Tumet must have been strenuous and even terrifying in some way. Bayarmaa had really only known that it existed and vaguely how it went…but she never really considered everything that must have been needed by the children with the trials themselves until she watched Nomin carefully just then. How she turned the sheathed weapon in her hand before slowly pulling the blade from its protective casing. How she gently felt the sharpness of the blade, gaging how well it could cut based on the twang of the steel as she scraped her thumb against it.

"I want this," Nomin finally said, pulling Bayarmaa out of her overall thoughts. The blade had been secured back within its sheath and sat on the stall counter before Nomin. Meanwhile, Nomin had been looking pointedly up at Bayarmaa all the while, a look that appeared to have been a mix of hopeful and expectant on her face.

The fact that it had been placed back on the counter and that Nomin had rather respectfully kept her hands to herself -- and not just with the dagger, but the other wares, too -- had made Bayarmaa raise her brow with a sense of pleasant surprise. Nomin had been well-behaved enough at the ger with some childish wonder and curiosity getting the best of her, but when it mattered was when Nomin seemed to surprise both Bayarmaa and Esenaij. Enough to have considered just what exactly the Tumet taught the children before they were of age to take part in their trial.

"... Alright…" Bayarmaa replied, her thoughts becoming more of a solidified realization that Nomin wanted the blade purely for self-preservation needs -- perhaps even fears. Especially after the trial Nomin endured. She had to recall the fact that Esenaij had tossed some extra rope with their belongings, claiming that Nomin had carried it with her.

Bayarmaa looked at the shopkeeper, sliding the blade back toward her. "My brother runs the stall for the Sagahl on the other side of Reunion. I'll inform him of the transaction desired. In the meantime, we have fava beans, rice, wheat, barley, and potatoes that can make it safely back to the mountains when you return to the rest of the Ura if interested. Give it some thought, and visit him with the dagger when you're ready."

"Of course. Thanks for stopping by," the shopkeeper replied, waving at both Bayarmaa and Nomin as they resumed their journey perusing the wares of Reunion.

Nomin reached up for Bayarmaa’s hand once more as they continued meandering through the stalls, her eyes flicking this way and that out of excitement and curiosity. She was good about staying close so long as Bayarmaa was with her.

"I think the toymaker's stall is finished setting up. Do you want to look at any of the toys that might be there?"

At Bayarmaa’s question, Nomin’s head swiveled immediately up in her direction, eyes sparkling as her mouth fell agape. Her tail flicked with both happiness and trepidation. She had never been asked if she ever wanted a toy. The toys that were made available to an okhin like her were usually broken and discarded by the elder Tumet who had otherwise grown out of them after their naming ceremony.

“So the toymaker will have things like uichuur or khorol?” Nomin asked.

“Among some other things not traditionally found on the Steppe, sure,” Bayarmaa replied, thinking back on some things she had seen. “When I was your age, I liked some of the puzzles that they made and had for trade. They also have some wooden animals, or some fanciful dolls with brilliant colors.”

Nomin’s grip on Bayarmaa’s hand tightened slightly as she knit her brow in thought.

“Something wrong?” Bayarmaa asked.

Nomin shook her head before shrugging. “I don’t…know… I never thought about a toy I’d want.”

“Never?”

“Mm-mm…”

Halting, Bayarmaa looked down at Nomin before kneeling so that she was eye level with her. Offering a smile, she then made a suggestion: “how about this, then? We’ll go ahead and get you any two things that you want that tickles your fancy at the stall. When we’re home, I’ll make you your very own toy out of what we’ve got back at the ger. It could be anything.”

“‘Anything’?” Nomin parroted, wanting that resolute confirmation.

“Anything.” Bayarmaa reaffirmed with a small nod. “It could be…it could be a horse, a fox, maybe even a mighty yol if you really want! I could even see about making more of a little Xaela doll for you if you'd be interested in that."

"Hmm…" again, the look on Nomin’s face had become riddled with uncertainty by the abundance of choice. "I think…maybe…”

“You can think about it as long as you want,” Bayarmaa said, hoping that her words brought Nomin a sense of comfort. Her expression warmed as she rose back up onto her feet and placed a hand at the back of Nomin’s head. “In the meantime, we can look around at everything that Reunion has to offer, hm? I still have to return to Esenaij as well to tell him about the new dagger we’re getting just for you, too.”

“... You’re really going to let me have it?” Nomin asked. She gazed at Bayarmaa with curiosity as well as some hint of incredulity.

“Is that so surprising? Esenaij and I were taught to use bows and arrows at around your age. After having a little bit to think about it, I can see why a dagger would interest you so,” Bayarmaa replied. She tousled Nomin’s hair a bit, a small laugh bubbling from the young Xaela’s lips, before reaching back down for her hand. However, Bayarmaa’s expression faltered as a question danced within her head. Soon, she sighed and finally asked: “... Was your time with the Tumet… I mean…did they ever let you have anything?”

Nomin’s expression of amusement had given way to distant disdain as she looked away. She pursed her lips and then shook her head.

“A lot of the time…we’re just taught to sew and make things that are useful for other members who earned their names; warriors mostly…” Nomin explained. “If we don’t have names, we’re just merely fed and allowed to live with them. But…most of the adults and the other named Tumet don’t really talk to those without names. Those without names only really speak with others without names or their caretakers.”

“So mostly your parents?”

“... I guess.” Nomin felt no real pull toward the term when she thought about the people who took care of her and raised her within their ger. "But they never really let me play with too many toys. Most of what I played were shagai with some of the other children -- other times, we'd play with sticks and rocks."

"I see…" Bayarmaa led the way through the markets, walking as fast as she felt Nomin was keeping up with. Her heart broke a little, hearing Nomin tell her about what she remembered about growing up with the Tumet.

"It's fine, though!" Nomin piped up, standing taller and puffing out her chest a bit. "I triumphed over my trial, and now… Well, now I'm worthy of a name! Worthy of doing whatever I want! And I want to learn all I can of the Steppe!"

Chuckling softly, Bayarmaa lifted her free hand to cover her mouth somewhat and hide her smile. “Indeed you are. I’ll certainly see about showing you everything that I know and have learned. I might have to bully Esenaij into doing the same, though.”

The pair arrived at the stall Esenaij had been taking care of, and Bayarmaa did as she said she would: she talked to him about the trade with the Ura traders. For a moment, he had protested, but Bayarmaa held firm in ensuring that Nomin would have the blade that she was promised. Of course, the bout of sibling squabbles had made Nomin giggle knowing that their arguments were not exactly serious.

Waving off Bayarmaa, Esenaij gave his confirmation that he understood and would await the trade if they remembered. He sighed to himself before regarding Nomin, “you do need to be careful with that knife when you actually have it in your possession, understand?”

“Of course!” Nomin piped up in response.

“Alright…because if Bayarmaa or I feel like you’re not being responsible with it, we’ll take it away until we feel like you will be.” Esenaij folded his arms over his chest and then looked more directly at Bayarmaa. “Right?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. It would be remiss of us to do otherwise,” Bayarmaa replied with a slight roll to her eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was early into the afternoon when Bayarmaa and Nomin had returned to Esenaij’s stall from visiting several different stalls to sit on the wain and rest their feet. With some light trading as well as exchanging some tugriks, Nomin had chosen her toys from the toymaker. Two boxes had been chosen; one containing wooden tiles to play khorol, and another that contained puzzle pieces to build a miniature ger of her own.

She had been looking over the different tiles and all the images carved into them and painted. With all the details, Nomin found herself enamored with how pretty each individual tile was, and had expressed excitement to play a proper game of khorol with both Bayarmaa and Esenaij whenever time allowed. For now, however, Nomin put her tiles away and secured the box they came in, putting her new games away in Esenaij’s wain.

As Nomin covered up her new toys so that no one took them, she looked up in time to see the Ura stallkeep making her way over with the blade that had been picked out as well as a small bag. Tail flicking upward, Nomin hurried over to Esenaij’s side, peeking up over the stall counter as the Ura woman greeted Esenaij and Bayarmaa both courteously. Talk of the trade had been mostly ignored as Nomin stared at the sheathed blade on the countertop, her fingers coming up and gripping the edge of the counter as she bounced on the balls of her feet impatiently.

Grain and potatoes had been traded, and Esenaij had given the dagger off to Nomin, a stern expression on his face. Though she reached for it, he held firm.

“Remember…treat and use it responsibly. I don’t want to see it out when it’s not needed, is that understood?” Esenaij said.

Nodding, Nomin looked up at Esenaij and replied, “I understand. I’ll only use it if I have to. Um…can I at least look at it sometimes if I’m not in danger?”

The Ura woman could be heard chuckling softly at the question as she looked over the trade items she had received. Esenaij, meanwhile, let out a low sigh before responding with: “very well. So long as you’re not openly brandishing it and playing with it inappropriately, you can look at it every now and then.”

“I remember when my father made me my first dagger,” the Ura woman gently spoke up after cinching the sacks of grain and potatoes shut. Her amusement had not faded. “I know her excitement all too well -- the excitement of finally feeling trusted to actually pull your own weight within the family and tribe.”

Looking at Nomin, the Ura woman pointed to the sheathed blade with a smile; “treat it well, little sister. May the ever tenacious mountains keep you safe with that made of their bounty.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: turakina sagahl #au ra #xaela au ra #xaela headcanons #xaela ura #NTK:Chronicles

8 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 10 months

Text

Your laughter was like the chime of a bell. You were always so thrilled to meet and be with other people. I remember being so happy when I got to tag along with you at times. Your carefree happiness was infectious. I wish we could return to that time.

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #my screenshots #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: turakina sagahl #somewhat a reminder to myself to get more gposes and screenshots of my xaela story characters for my collection

16 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 8 months

Text

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 19

Prompt :: Weal Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Turakina Sagahl Warnings :: Grief, Loss, Mentions of Gross Tactics Word Count :: 1,281

Continuation of FFXIV Write :: Day 5 -> Barbarous

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

Nomin could only stare at the opposite side of the ger as she sat on the floor, legs crossed. Her brow had been set into a deep furrow, her hands balled into trembling fists on her knees, and her jaw clenched so tightly she could feel her cheeks burn. Her very being had been consumed by the flames of rage.

There were a myriad of marks of purple weal upon Nomin’s skin from where she had been struck. What had been meant to be a humbling experience had stoked the fires of rage and vengeance all that much more within her. If Nomin could breathe smoke and flame, it would be ever evident with how it roiled, sizzled, and popped within her.

"... You could stand to be less reckless out there…" Turakina softly spoke as she applied salve to the blossomed bruising upon Nomin. The salve had been one that she and the other Sagahl had made. They kept secret stores of their creations so that they at least had something without asking permission from their captors.

“She started it…” Nomin replied, venomous indignation dripping from her words.

“You spat a tooth into her mouth…” Turakina said, disbelief evident in her tone.

“If she didn’t want it, she shouldn’t have punched it loose, then. I was just giving her the trophy she so rightly won.”

“Nomin…” Turakina’s tone became more terse after hearing Nomin’s frustrated sarcasm. “You need to do as they say. I know you’re mad. You have every single right to be mad. Dammit, I’m mad, too! But acting out and causing problems for them is only going to make your time here worse. Just look at yourself…”

“How can I just sit here!?” Nomin said, turning and looking at Turakina. The anger was even evident in her eyes as they shimmered over with the welling of tears born of anger, sorrow, and frustration. “After everything they’ve done to us! Esenaij… They struck Chotan because she doesn’t want to fight! And they expect us to fight for them! Die for them!”

“I understand how you feel, Nomin, but you can’t just lash out and keep taking the punishment that comes after.” Turakina had furrowed her brow, capping the wooden container of salve before looking Nomin in the eye. “If you want to do right by Esenaij and Chotan, then slow down and think about this situation we’re in. We’re not getting out of it -- not easily at any rate. If you want to fight, then fight. But fight on their terms for now. Because fighting on yours will just lead to more pain and hurt, and damage you in the end.”

“Urgh!” Nonmin vocalized bitterly, turning her back to Turakina and pulling her knees up to her chest. She angrily rested her chin on her knees and stared pointedly at the wall of the ger once more. More than anything in that moment, she hated this feeling as if she were being scolded for acting what she felt was appropriate for the situation.

Turakina had returned to applying salve in spots she had missed before Nomin’s outburst. The two remained silent for a time, the sounds of people speaking outside as they passed filling the air on occasion. Time was tense, at least for Nomin as she curled her fingers into her knees. She only flinched and grit her teeth when the application of the salve stung further.

Getting Nomin’s wounds bandaged up, Turakina gave her a look over before handing her back the deel that she had been issued to show she was a member of the Jhungid. A rather bland, uninteresting sand color that gave way to Nomin also disliking the sandy shores of the beach whenever she looked out toward the coast. Of course Nomin had grimaced when she took the robes into her hand and started getting it put on as she stood up. A combination of pain and disgust, surely.

“There…” Turakina gently said, helping to straighten out the deel around Nomin once it had been slipped back around her. She took a moment, looking Nomin over and then looking into her eyes. A scoff was made, though not one of disdain, nor frustration. It had been made in amused realization more than anything.

“What?” Nomin defensively asked.

“Just… Turakina withdrew her hands. “Despite not being related by blood… You remind me so much of Esenaij when we were younger.”

Nomin turned her head away with a sharp ‘tch.’ Shaking her head to further show some form of resistance to the idea, she folded her arms over her chest. “If Esenaij hadn’t been shot from behind, he would have laid each one of them who intruded upon us to waste.”

“... Maybe…” Turakina said. She wanted to be doubtful, but even she wondered if Nomin had the right of it. Though Turakina had known Esenaij for far longer than Nomin, she had seen how he had taken a shine to her, even if he had not wanted to admit it to himself. The fact that Bayarmaa had also softened him up, and openly accepted Nomin as part of their broken family…it left Turakina to wonder just how much of Esenaij Nomin really got acquainted with in the moons she had been with them.

Closing her eyes and pushing her thoughts away, Turakina went over to a shared shelf that had hers, Nomin, Cheheyigen, and Chotan’s belongings on it. She put away her medical supplies before sighing softly and going on to say, “... even if maybe he would, that doesn’t mean you should act upon it because it’s something you feel like he would do. I mean…what even did that girl say or do to you? And don’t just say it’s because she hit you; I know full well about the mandatory requirements for having to go and train with everyone else.”

Nomin hesitated.

“... They all call me ‘Broken Scale.’ Because of how these blue markings make my scales look cracked and ugly…” Nomin looked down at the floor while she spoke. Her tears of frustration welling further. She blinked them back -- or attempted to -- though they started to roll down her cheeks and onto the ground. “She…she said that all I’ll ever be is broken…”

“... And then that’s when you… Okay…” Turakina trailed off and nodded to herself. She had been witness to the tail end of the conflict when Nomin was being dragged away whilst yelling ‘who’s broken now!?’ It made that much more sense to her after hearing the events after Nomin had come back from being punished by Bolormaa.

Sighing, Turakina walked over to Nomin and gently pulled her into a hug, knowing full well that she needed one.

“Do you believe her, Nomin?” Turakina asked, feeling Nomin resist the pull of wanting to be vulnerable in that moment as she trembled.

“N…no…” Nomin lied.

“Do you believe yourself just now?”

“... No.”

“Why do you feel broken, Nomin?”

Silence that was slowly filled by the stutter of Nomin desperately trying to restrain her sobs and grief. She curled into Turakina, hot tears welling and streaming down her face as she struggled with forming the words.

“I just…watched him die!” Nomin choked out. “I stood there and did…I did nothing! I couldn’t do anything till after he had been shot down like prey!”

Turakina staggered slightly as Nomin started growing weak and limp as she allowed the grief to consume her. Before long, the two of them were back on the floor, Turakina gently cradling Nomin and feeling her body’s jerking motions as she cried and sniffled. ‘It’s about time…’ Turakina thought to herself as she stroked Nomin’s hair. ‘That she finally grieved.’

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: turakina sagahl #cw: grief

5 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 8 months

Text

002.1 Esenaij

Life on the Steppe for Esenaij had a routine to it centered around the goals he made for himself at a young age. He has seen to them diligently and with a sense of steeled determination. After all, if he refused to, he would hate to think about how life would have been for what family he has left.

Warnings: Character death, death of a family member

Word Count: 2,781

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

Esenaij -- a boy of ten and four summers -- stood at the bedside, his mother laying there, bundled up within the sheets and her breathing shallow and strained. He had been in charge of making sure the woman had a cooling cloth on her head, and that she drank plenty of water during whatever sickness she had been combating. It was nearly the only job he had while his younger sister was made to wash and cut fruit that were easier to eat when their mother was lucid enough to do so.

As it stood, they had heard their mother coughing and wheezing over the last couple weeks, and her condition had only been getting worse since their last migration. What everyone thought was a simple cold that could go away with some hydration, rest, and careful monitoring had become a worrying process of ensuring that the woman had been attended and watched over at different bells of the day.

It seemed like no one knew what to do as she got sicker and sicker. All that they managed was applying what remedies worked in the past while suppressing the ever rising worry when they seemed to do nothing.

"When is father coming back, Esenaij…?" Bayarmaa asked as she brought over a small plate of fruit to the bedside. Worry was evident on her face as she gazed up at Esenaij, hoping for an answer that indicated a short amount of time.

“When he’s concluded his hunt,” Esenaij briefly replied. He had been doing his best to remain as placid and strong as possible so as to not instill more possible fear within his younger sister. As the eldest one there aside from their ailing mother, he had taken it upon himself to stand strong -- to not allow his emotions to overcome him as he took care of their mother as well as took care of whatever needs that Bayarmaa required that their mother or father typically did for them.

It had all been taxing work.

Esenaij and Bayarmaa tended to the chores their mother usually did. Clothes and towels had been washed and taken outside to dry, as had dirtied sheets in the time that their mother had been bedridden. Potted plants had been cared for, being carefully watered and softly talked to -- something their mother did and claimed would make the plants stronger. Esenaij had also helped Bayarmaa to sweep the ger, ridding it of dust and loose soil so it did not rise into the air to further irritate their mother.

When the ache of his muscles burned in Esenaij’s body, he still refused to sit idle. He bade Bayarmaa to rest and get herself off her feet, meanwhile he had continued with organizing different items within the ger while keeping tabs on their mother. Anything to keep his hands and mind busy. He had started to grow anxious and irritated with further worry as the sky started its change from blue to orange.

Their father had still not been back from his hunt.

Esenaij had soaked the cloth upon his mother’s head in fresh, cool water once more before laying it upon her forehead once again. In her slumber, he brought his knuckles to the flesh no scales obscured upon her neck and grit his teeth. She was still burning.

“Dammit…” Esenaij growled under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” Bayarmaa asked, having gotten up from where she had been sitting at the table. She had busied herself with practicing how to write, though now her utensils laid on the table, splayed out in a disorderly fashion.

Heading for the door with a quick pace to his step, Esenaij paused and looked back at Bayarmaa.

“Mother needs help. More than what we can give her. I’m going to Turakina and her family. Maybe…maybe they’ll know what to do,” Esenaij replied, gripping the handle of the door tightly. He was doing everything to keep the panic and fear out of his voice, and certainly off his face as he steeled his expression. “Stay here, watch over mother for the both of us, Bayarmaa.”

Opening the door, he walked out of the ger before Bayarmaa could open her mouth in order to protest. If she kept him any longer, Esenaij felt that any further inaction was merely endangering their mother more. He walked with purpose before breaking into a run toward one of the ger situated further away. Once there, he opened the door suddenly, panting and holding back those continued feelings of anxiety and alarm over everything that had been going on.

"Esenaij!?" an elder woman exclaimed, standing. A little girl was standing behind her; the girl looked briefly excited at Esenaij’s arrival before her expression quickly fell at the mood he brought with him. Meanwhile, the woman strode forward, looking over Esenaij and making sure he was not in physical distress.

"Miss…Miss Jaliqai…" Esenaij choked out. Whether it was because he was panting, or because he finally felt that stinging sensation of tears in his eyes, his breath stuttered. "Please, you have…you have to help my mother… Please…"

"Slow down, Esenaij…" Jaliqai softly urged, bringing a hand up and brushing disheveled locks of hair from his face. Her eyes darted to and fro over his face, searching his expression and assessing his distress. Keeping herself calm, Jaliqai continued: “breathe in, collect yourself, and then tell me what you need as best you can.”

Sniffling, Esenaij felt his lip tremble before he took a breath in and slowly breathed out. The tightness of his throat impeded his want to speak up, but eventually opened his mouth and said, “... Mother’s been sick. For…for the last few days, she’s only been getting worse. A-and…and father hasn’t returned from his hunt to feed us. Feed mother. She’s all alone with Bayarmaa and me…and we just don’t know how to take care of her the way she needs us to!”

Jaliqai was silent for a moment before she stood up, withdrawing her hand and then looking back at the little girl that had also been within the ger. Jaliqai’s expression hardened with concern. Striding over toward where some jars were kept on a shelf, Jaliqai stood on her tiptoes briefly to retrieve a woven basket before gathering some of the jars and pots to place within it.

Hurrying toward the door, Jaliqai paused and then knelt down next to the little girl. Smiling as warmly as she could manage toward the girl, Jaliqai tucked a few stray locks of hair behind one of the girl's little horns. The girl looked at her, worried, her eyes flicking every now and then in Esenaij’s direction. Jaliqai rubbed her shoulders reassuringly before saying, "Turakina, stay here for me, okay? If you need me, you remember where Esenaij and Bayarmaa’s ger is, right?"

Turakina nodded her head, a soft 'mhm' hummed in acknowledgement. She then looked at Esenaij. "I hope everything will be okay…"

"... Me too…" Esenaij said in response, his brow furrowing with concern, uncertainty, and sadness as his lips tightened into a frown. Looking at Jaliqai as she placed a hand upon his shoulder once she rose back up onto her feet, he moved forward as she ushered him back outside. Once outside, the two of them hurried toward Esenaij’s ger.

When they entered into the abode, Esenaij and Jaliqai had been greeted by the image of Bayarmaa kneeling at the bedside, clutching her mother’s hand. Her shoulders shook, and she could be heard sniffling and holding back her sobs. When Bayarmaa had finally heard them, she turned her head to look over at them, her nose and eyes a blossoming purple with her crying.

Seeing Bayarmaa in such a state made Esenaij’s heart sink straight into the pits of his stomach. Fear gripped him as he staggered forward and went to kneel next to her.

“I-Is…” Esenaij was afraid of the answer to the question that raced through his mind. He swallowed, attempting to keep a strong facade on his person so as not to freak Bayarmaa out further than she already clearly was. “Is mother…okay?”

“I…I don’t know…” Bayarmaa sniffled, hiccuping. It was when she started speaking again that she started lacing her words with sobs and further sniffling. “I w-was just doing what you did. I ch-changed the cloth, and felt her head. Mama…Mama feels like fire, Esenaij. I don’t know what to do!”

“Alright, clear the bedside, children…” Jaliqai spoke up, making her way over and getting her basket of remedies placed on the floor. Once both Esenaij and Bayarmaa had moved, Jaliqai had started to assess their mother’s condition more closely. There were some mutterings, though she had really only seemed to curse their father for not seeking assistance sooner.

It had been a sleepless night for both Bayarmaa and Esenaij as they watched Jaliqai do what she could with whatever salves and potions she had. Though it was once the children’s father had come back, Jaliqai had addressed him sternly regarding his wife’s condition. However, once it had been pointed out and made a reminder for Jaliqai that both Bayarmaa and Esenaij were there, as well as the fact that yelling at him brought them no closer to remedying the ailing woman, the subject had been dropped for the time being.

Both Esenaij and Bayarmaa were instructed to stay out of the way while Jaliqai and their father did what they could. Their father had started cleaning and steaming the shuvuukhai he had brought home with him to get the children fed, and hopefully have some kind of broth prepared for his wife should she awaken. Jaliqai, on the other hand, had laid her horn upon the chest of the bedridden woman, listening to her breathing.

Truthfully, eating anything had been difficult for Esenaij. The food had been near unpalatable with everything that he had been feeling. The bowl of rice and broth had sat there, nearly untouched before Esenaij had gotten back up and paced about the ger he and Bayarmaa were made to wait in impatiently.

Eventually, Bayarmaa had been too exhausted to keep her eyes open, and she had finally curled into her bed in order to sleep. Esenaij had no such luxury, for he had been alert and awake as long as Jaliqai and his father had tended to his mother. He watched both of them with a keen sense of apprehension and worry, fearing for the worst and hoping for the best. It was all he could do since any time he tried to help, he was told to stay out of the way.

Bells had passed, and eventually they led into the time of night where Esenaij had bolted upright and stood on his feet once he had heard his mother gasp out in agony. He rushed over to where his father and Jaliqai were, only able to watch as his mother convulsed and struggled to breathe, asphyxiating.

The icy grip of fear had chilled him as he stared in horror. He had no idea what to do. What could he have even done?

All the anxiety and uncertainty that swirled within him made him want to vomit.

“Y-you have to help her! Help her!” Esenaij yelled, looking up at his dad and then over to Jaliqai. His voice cracked as that fearful little boy finally rose to the surface and broke through. He raised his hands, gripping at his father’s robes and tugging back and forth. “You have to help her! She’s dying!”

The gasps and sputtering of his mother were sounds that burned into his memory. Same with the sounds of Bayarmaa waking up to his shouting and then screaming and sobbing in fearful realization as to what was happening when she had become lucid enough to process everything.

“... There’s…nothing else we can do…” their father finally said, his voice quiet and filled with dread and sadness. He had pulled Esenaij close into an embrace, and he did the same with Bayarmaa when she had run over. “Your mother…your mother is to meet with Nhaama soon.”

The last thing that Esenaij could remember is how their father later walked toward his and Bayarmaa’s mother, taking up one of her hands as he stared into her wide and fearful eyes, apologies falling from his lips over and over. He remembered how his father clutched her hand within one of his own, and gently stroked her knuckles with the other. He could see it all so clearly even behind the blurriness that the tears clouded his eyes with.

And just like that…she was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bayarmaa’s words stuck with Esenaij as he had prepared for the morning in order to travel back to Reunion.

It had been only a handful of moons since their father passed away…not that it felt like they had lost anything impactful. Since their mother had passed away roughly six years ago, it had always been Esenaij looking after Bayarmaa while their father went out, hunted, and tended to the surrounding land. He taught her how to cook, what methods he had picked up or developed for caring for the land, and watched as she improved upon her skills playing the morin khuur… So many things he had been there to witness Bayarmaa grow into, frustrating as their sibling bond had proven at times.

Looking back at the ger that he and his sister shared, he muttered a word of ‘see you soon’ before walking toward the wain. A frown was set up on his lips, and his brow was knit together tightly while he got his harness attached to himself and began his journey down toward the worn road that had been used by countless Xaela of summers passed to make their way to Reunion. He could not help but to think of the things he had to endure along with Bayarmaa.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Esenaij did his best to shake his head of the thoughts that were coming back to him. Part of him wanted to blame the appearance of Nomin and his reluctant decision to take her in. However, he thought better of himself -- everything that had happened within the last few moons was a result of unfortunate circumstances.

Of course, Esenaij’s face had contorted into annoyance as he continued to walk whilst lost in his thoughts. His footsteps had been automatic more than anything, his body remembered the path to Reunion at that point. His mind replayed moments of his past in vivid detail all the while, much to his dismay.

Pursing his lips into a frown, Esenaij pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw the familiar entrance to Reunion off in the distance. He supposed that was one benefit to having gotten lost in his own mind; he had arrived at Reunion at what felt sooner than anticipated. Certainly, Esenaij had to count his blessings on what blessings manifested before him.

Getting to his usual spot, Esenaij had begun to set up his stall, meticulously organizing everything and making sure each good had its own place. He had briefly waved to other merchants that were either within the same process, or had already gotten their stalls ready to go. Such was the routine every time he had come out to the trading hub of the Steppe when the Sagahl had migrated close enough. Such was the routine once he had been dead set on ensuring he had a way to turn his knowledge and efforts into trade so that he could provide for Bayarmaa.

‘I suppose now I must account for Nomin as well…’ Esenaij thought to himself, a soft ‘bah’ falling as a scoff from his lips soon after.

Shaking his head, Esenaij got his wain parked close by, and he stood behind his stall. It was another day of hoping that new trade would come through that could serve him and his family.

A soft huff was made at that thought. Esenaij had always imagined it would simply be him and Bayarmaa up to a certain point. Whether he had gotten married, or she did…even if the thought of marriage for himself was a laughable prospect. Nomin entering their lives had been unexpected, to put it lightly… Though Esenaij could not have left her on her own, especially not after her passionate statement of her experience with loss within the Tumet and how she felt about it.

He supposed he could relate… The pain of loss was nothing new to him.

Esenaij’s attention had gone to the first customer that had approached his stall. There was no time to get lost in the past and reflect on it; business had officially started.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: turakina sagahl #oc: jaliqai sagahl #au ra xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela sagahl #NTK:Chronicles #cw: death #cw: character death

3 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 10 months

Text

018. Gharl

Fueled by obsession. Obsession with freedom. Obsession with protection. Obsession with getting strong. Obsession with hatred. Obsession with enacting revenge. It claws and claws and claws till it bursts.

Word Count: 4,030

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arrows were fired out, aimed up to rain down upon the Kharlu upon their descent. However, Nomin hesitated on her release, instead looking more at the backs of those that were riding out to meet the rival tribe. She loosed her arrow a tad later than most, withdrawing another one quickly to get it prepped for the second wave before she were to be noticed by anyone that may point her out.

'Not my fight…' were the words that settled in Nomin’s mind as she scanned the area. Once weapons came into contact with one another, Nomin locked her attention onto one of the Jhungid she recognized as being high up on the list of who to cross out immediately.

Several waves of arrows were fired before horns of war rang out to signal a pressed attack from the spear and axe wielding frontliners. Waiting till the sixth wave of arrows went out, Nomin fired and watched her arrow sail through the air before it pierced straight through Alagh Yid's chest. So embroiled in combat were others that her slipping off her horse and onto the ground was just a part of the war. She was not the ideal first target, but she was the one that Nomin could make out right away and pick off.

Though Nomin had to act smart so as not to get caught. Her next arrow was aimed up and let loose with the eighth wave of arrows to rain down upon the Kharlu that still had yet to fully make their way to the combat meet. She repeated this process until the archers were urged forward to meet with the remnants within the conflict. Though, Nomin acted the part of riding into battle before she quickly scanned the area for any other familiar persons.

Obsessed.

She had to be. It was necessary.

Another one of Terbish’s trusted heads: Battsetseg.

Obsessed.

It was a matter of freeing herself. Freeing the other Sagahl.

Without missing a beat, Nomin took another shot, her arrow catching Battsetseg in the head right as she was about to strike down a Kharlu warrior with her own hands.

That was two down.

Obsessed.

Slowing her horse, Nomin glanced behind her. Riders were still galloping past her. This is when she took her opportunity. Guiding her horse around, she urged it forward, galloping back toward the Jhungid orda. Most of the warriors would be too enraged by the enemy at this point -- especially if they were pureblooded Jhungid. It was now or never.

Obsessed.

If anyone saw her, there were no attempts to ride after her. Not that Nomin knew. All for the better, really.

Digging her heels into her horse, Nomin rode forward with purpose. The cries and shouts of battle rang behind her, as did the singing of steel, and the cries of pain or even death.

‘Not my fight.’

Nomin rode for what felt like an eternity. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline. Maybe it was the conviction of her task. Whatever the case, sometimes it felt like her horse was merely galloping in place as her mind reeled at the fact that she was committing to this. This thing that felt like a fantasy that played over and over and over in her head.

Obsessed.

“Please work…” Nomin muttered, taking her arrow and drawing it back once the tops of the sand-colored ger finally came into view. “Flames of rage burn like the sun / Leave the Jhungid nigh undone!” Nomin spat, remembering how her dabbling in magic seemed to produce some results after that dream she had. Though it had never been strong by any means, it was the application by which it was used that was the important thing here.

Obsessed. Obsessed. Obsessed.

Her arrow erupted into flame, and a manic grin spread across Nomin’s face, delighting in how . Letting the arrow fly loose, it sailed through the air and hit the largest ger there was -- the ger that belonged to khatun Silun Gorgelji.

Obsessed.

The flames did not take long to catch, eating away at the fabrics and then the leathers. Black smoke trailed into the air, crackles of embers soon accompanying it.

Another arrow, another incantation that danced across Nomin’s lips. Another flaming arrow that was fired at one of the larger ger.

O b s e s s e d.

Once a commotion had broken out amongst those that had stayed within the orda, Nomin had ridden her horse through the panic and disorder that started to ensue. She had a mission in mind, and she had come too far to be stopped now. Digging her heels into her horse once more, Nomin urged him to press on till she saw the collection of ger that she and the other non-pure-blooded Jhungid were made to sleep.

Quickly jumping from her horse, Nomin went to the ger where Checheyigen and Chotan were -- they were not recognized as warriors just yet to have been made to fight their endless conflict. Though they were there, Nomin urged them to collect their things before going and grabbing one of her bags filled with a myriad of items she had accumulated in the last five years already. She helped Che and Chotan gather what they could before they ran out.

“Is this an attack from the Kharlu?” Checheyigen asked, clutching her bag tightly to herself as she followed hurriedly after Nomin.

“No,” was the quick and curt response from Nomin. She looked and shoved things off of beds and other surfaces, looking for anything that was important in some capacity as she situated her own belongings. Thread, cloth, leather scraps, ink… things that had not been properly put away that should have been.

“This… this was you, wasn’t it?” Chotan asked, watching Nomin. She walked forward somewhat indignantly, reaching out and grabbing the former Tumet’s wrist to stop her from walking past to the exit of the ger. “This was your ‘stupid’ plan?”

Pulling her arm away and looking at her friends, Nomin’s expression had not changed from the determined and fury-ridden way it had been settled since her time on the fields. She then looked squarely at Chotan, who seemed to scoff in disbelief that she more than had the answer when Nomin said nothing in response. Shaking her head, Chotan motioned to Checheyigen to follow along after her before looking again at the blue-haired auri.

“This is insane, Nomin,” Chotan finally said. “What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Nomin repeated with a scoff of her own. “I was thinking that today’s our day to leave this damned place.”

“You’ll have all of the Jhungid after you when they find out--”

“I don’t care. I hate this place. You hate this place. There are so many of us who hate this place. This is an opportunity, and we need to take it,” Nomin dug her heels in defensively over her actions. Where their eyes stayed locked together, Chotan finally broke her stare with a frustrated sigh before looking at Checheyigen.

“We won’t have another opportunity like this again if we don’t act now…” Checheyigen reasoned when she met Chotan’s gaze. “And who knows what the Jhungid will do once they’re back anyway! I’m with Nomin. I don’t want to stay here anymore. I don’t want to be made to fight! We do not roam the Steppe seeking out glory in battle, nor to prove ourselves superior to other tribes! If we have this opportunity… Chotan, I’m going to reach for it.”

Chotan's expression became riddled with unexpected surprise before she looked down and then looked at Nomin once more. She hesitated, tightening her grip on her belongings. Pursing her lips, she finally gave a nod of acknowledgement as she furrowed her brow; "... fine. Okay. Nomin, we follow after you. Lead the way."

"Of course," Nomin assured before exiting the ger with both teens close at her heels. She hurried along past people who were running for safety, or running to save their loved ones and belongings.

“Turakina! Turakina!” Nomin shouted. In her search, she furrowed her brow and pointed a determined look in both Chotan and Che’s direction. Pointing toward the path that led toward the other ger, Nomin quickly urged them, “go get Khulan and get horses. Now! Just go!”

“Horses? But that is not our wa--” Chotan was about to protest.

“Nothing here was ever our way! Go!” Nomin snapped.

Deciding it best not to argue, the girls did as they were told while Nomin ran through the orda. She had grabbed the reins of her horse as she did, needing the quick getaway if things got any worse. Hard as she looked, however, Nomin was turning up with no results as she danced between panicking orda members, and those that were trying to put out the fire before it spread any further.

Cursing, Nomin changed her course so that she was looking for the other Sagahli teens. Again, she weaved through the chaos that was forming within the orda until she had found the others. Khulan was wide-eyed and confused, and the girls looked at Nomin for guidance once they realized she was there. Looking between them, Nomin looked around to make sure there were no other Jhungid that were on her trail or wanting to stop her from what she was doing.

Making sure the coast was clear in that regard, Nomin pointed toward the stables.

“Che, you’ve been helping with the horses. Get them saddled. Two of them. Khulan will ride with one of you since he’s still small enough for it,” Nomin commanded, laying out whatever plans she had flying in her head for the girls. Looking at Chotan, Nomin went on: “Chotan, find food. Rations that can keep all of you. Bread, jerked fish or vilekin -- stuff I know you will all eat. Grab waterskins, too.”

“What should I do, Nomin?” Khulan asked, gazing at her with curiosity and fear.

“Go with Che. Should anything happen while she’s saddling the horses, you are to ride immediately away. Get as far from here as you can,” Nomin said, tightening her hold on her horse’s reins. “And Khulan… be brave. A lot of scary stuff is probably going to happen. Just think about returning to the Sagahl. You'll get to see your mother and father again.”

Bayarmaa was held firm in the back of Nomin’s mind. Esenaij might have met his end when the Jhungid attacked, but Turakina telling Nomin that Bayarmaa escaped with the other Saghal allowed that glimmer of hope to hold. It was always there, keeping her grounded -- reminding her that there was a reason to temper herself. There were just a lot of things that Nomin had that she never said, and things she thought about that she felt should be said. She just hoped she could see Bayarmaa again to say all those things.

“Go…I’ll be right behind you,” Nomin said, parting from the others to see if she could find Turakina and others from the Sagahl tribe once more. The fire was spreading, and there were people hurriedly chasing dzo or sheep that had gotten loose. Horses were panicking from their stables that Nomin could hear, and she hoped that Che would not have trouble with getting two of them ready.

“Turakina!” Nomin called out again, gritting her teeth. Smoke was starting to waft thickly around the orda.

“Nomin?” came Turakina’s familiar voice.

Nomin’s heart leapt for joy hearing her, and she ran toward it as fast as she could. Her horse trotted along behind her, and she soon came across Turakina, who had been helping the other members of the Sagahl. Nomin recognized a couple of them, but she was more happy just seeing Turakina.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Che, Chotan, and Khulan are heading toward the stables and getting food. Please, go and do the same,” Nomin pleaded.

“Nomin… you…?” Turakina started, her mouth hanging agape in surprise. "What do you…are we to escape?"

“Yes!” Nomin felt that swell in her chest. She was proud of herself. "I rode free of the battle and came here as fast as I could. This was part of my plan to run and rejoin the rest of the Sagahl."

“... Why? They’re going to kill you if they ever find out it was you…!” Turakina exclaimed. “Why did you do this, Nomin?”

“I… I did this for you--! I did this for all of the Sagahl!” Nomin was taken aback and hurt that Turakina was expressing hesitation or disappointment, and was not overcome with some sense of relief, or kick to her survival instinct. “Please…just… They’re at war with the Kharlu, this is the perfect opportunity to run!”

Turakina pursed her lips, her fun-loving nature and personality having melted away in the years that she had to serve under the Jhungid colors. However, she considered Nomin’s plan and sighed with a furrow to her brow. Nodding, she looked at the other Sagahl.

“You’re right…even if we weren’t the ones to instigate this, we’ll be punished either way…” Turakina relented. “I’ll see what I can do, Nomin…”

Nomin gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and started to mount her horse. They would have to discuss this all more when things were calmer.

“Oh, and Nomin…” Turakina said, looking over her shoulder. The younger Xaela paused, looking down at Turakina curiously. “This was very stupid.”

A scoff left Nomin’s mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m well aware.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thunder rumbled as magically manipulated or conjured rainclouds started to form. Spellcasters of the Jhungid that were back from the fight with the Kharlu were on the scene, it appeared. Though much too late for Nomin to care. After all, she had managed to get the other Sagahl prepped and ready to go before the others had gotten back from their conflict.

Ensuring that the Sagahl were saddled up and fleeing from the scene, Nomin stayed back in case she had to provide another distraction apart from the orda going up in smoke. However, her quick scan of the area saw that too many people were in a panic, and she, too, took her leave of the area, urging her horse out of the orda.

A smile grew on Nomin’s lips. She had done it. She had freed the Sagahl! Now that was left was to free the other tribes that had been--

Pain seared through Nomin’s shoulder as an arrow shot straight through it, lodging itself within.

Crying out, Nomin grit her teeth and dug her heels into the sides of her horse, urging it faster. Another searing pain, this time through her side as she rode.

More arrows flew past, attempting to strike Nomin down.

Nomin gripped the reins with what strength she had, fueled only by the adrenaline that had been present since before the fight with the Kharlu. She needed to ride with everything she had till she was far away. Even if the pain burned and would be something to deal with later, it was better than continuing to be merely a war pawn for the Jhungid.

Further and further she went. Nomin had only suffered the two arrows shot into her, and she cursed them with everything she had. However, she held fast to the thought that she had succeeded in what she vowed to do.

Bleariness started to settle in Nomin’s vision, her breath started to shorten, and her strength was slipping away the more she rode. Even if her mind was in protest, her body could not comply. Eventually… she slipped from her horse and rolled across the grass as her horse continued on. Reaching out, Nomin tried to call for her horse, but the words would not come.

Everything went dark.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone was humming a soft and gentle tune, and a cool cloth was felt upon the skin of her face. Struggling to open her eyes, Nomin saw light filtering in through the top of the ger that she was in.

Panic hit her almost immediately as she sat up quickly. That was when pain coursed through her body; she winced and sharply sucked in air through her teeth to cope. Hitting a fist to the bedroll, Nomin gasped, keeping her guard up as best she could.

“Calm, child,” the humming woman spoke. She had been kneeling at the side of the bedroll that Nomin had been laying on. She reached out again and dabbed the damp, cool cloth against Nomin’s skin. “No one here is going to hurt you. We have been awaiting your wake.”

Bringing a hand to her shoulder, Nomin felt the bandages that were there, but she also felt the soreness of the wound that had been left behind. The same was true for the shot made to her abdomen.

“You suffered some nasty wounds. Not a true member of the Jhungid, are you…” the woman spoke, putting the damp cloth away and looking at Nomin. She was met by a shake of the teen’s head, which prompted a small smile from the woman. “You need not worry. The Gharl hold no allegiance to any one tribe. We will not be returning you to them -- we have even collected your horse. We found it grazing not that far from you when we were foraging.”

“Soil bearers?” Nomin managed, wincing again after she spoke. “I’m… relieved. What of the other Sagahl?”

“Ah…” The Gharl woman appeared to have her thoughts click into place. “We did see other riders on our journey. They kept riding in the direction of the Ceol Aen. Will you be joining them when you can walk?”

“That’s the plan…” Nomin confirmed. She furrowed her brow in thought before looking at the Gharli woman. “What’s your name?”

“Seruuntungalag,” the woman replied, pushing herself back up into a standing position. “But I understand it is quite long, and sometimes hard for others to say consistently. You may simply call me Seruun should it please you.”

A soft scoff left Nomin’s lips. “A pleasure to meet you. Wish it were under--” she winced as another searing bolt of pain hit with her minor adjustments, “--under better circumstances. My name’s Nomin.”

“It is good to meet you, Nomin,” Seruuntungalag replied, smiling warmly. “Though we are collecting earth in preparation for our next migration, it will be some time before we start. You should be well enough to walk and resume your way of life well before then. In the meantime, may you treat our iloh as your own.” Nomin looked up at Seruun, a little surprised. Truly, the Gharl were some of the most elegant and gracious of the Xaela that roamed the steppe. It was almost as if they had to be, as they were the ones, after all, who marked the start of the Naadam and the end of the Tsaagan Sar. Their role was vital, and their presence commanded respect just as much as the Qestir or the Saghal.

They were largely non-combatants, as it were. As a people who united the lands in their own way, it was not often they went out of their way to spill blood. That was what Nomin remembered as a vague recollection somewhere in the back of her mind.

“The Gharl are very kind, Seruun…” Nomin replied, getting a feel for the Gharli woman's name in her mouth while breathing slowly so as not to agitate her abdominal wound. “I hope not to overstay my welcome, though. You can be assured--” she winced again. “--a-assured that I will be gone as soon as I can walk. You have my utmost thanks for your hospitality.”

A thought crossed Nomin’s mind, and she then pursed her lips. It was a thought that uneased her.

“What…what if the Jhungid come to you looking for me and want to instigate conflict?” Nomin asked, concerned not only for herself, but for the Gharl as well.

“They will see no mercy from Azim nor Nhaama. It seems that they suffered no mercy from the Saghal, either from what we have seen and have been told,” Seruun replied, a sly smile upon her lips as she looked back at Nomin. “I don’t know how long it took, how long you and the other Saghal endured…but it seems that the Gods deemed it right to see the Saghal freed.”

“If you say so,” Nomin replied with a bit of a wry smile in response. She laid back down on her bedroll, focusing on her breathing to keep her mind off the dull aches and pains. She did not believe the Gods had anything to do with her plan nor it coming to a head. Nomin believed that it was purely spite and good timing on her part.

Closing her eyes, Nomin continued to focus on her breathing while attempting to also keep her mind occupied with other scenes and scenarios. All she could focus on and hold onto for now was the image of the other Sagahl riding free across the grasslands. She hoped they made it somewhere safe. Somewhere where they could recuperate and get back to the main tribe.

Seruuntungalag was heard pouring a liquid into a container of one kind or another. A cup, Nomin figured, and she was right when she peeked over and saw Seruun return to her side with the proffered receptacle. Tentatively, Nomin took up the cup and was aided in her motion to sit up, if only slightly to drink of its contents.

The liquid started sweet before its bitter aftertaste clawed itself down Nomin's tongue and nearly made her wretch on the spot. She held her own, gagging at best before putting the cup down.

"By night's goo--ough--good graces, what the hell is in that!?" Nomin exclaimed, desperately dragging and scraping her tongue against her teeth to rid herself of the flavor and sensation that has blossomed throughout her mouth.

"That is typically the response one has when first taking that," Seruun giggled, taking the cup back while keeping Nomin upright. "It is unfortunate that the sweetness of the alyssum goes so far and only makes the initial imbibement tolerable."

"It tastes of yol piss and old sweaty smallclothes," Nomin complained, scrunching her nose.

"Yes, well…" Seruun started, getting Nomin laid back down. "I'll fetch you some water and aaruul to help with the taste. But the concoction you just drank should aid with your internal healing. It will wear you down and make you tired. It wouldn't be a surprise if you find yourself sleeping for bells upon bells as your body mends itself."

There was truth to the words. Nomin could already feel the weight of slumber pressing down upon her, but her body felt pleasant and warm. The aches of her wounds were an afterthought, light bruises that were only a minor inconvenience to the floating feeling that was starting to cushion her mind and body. It was intoxicating.

Her head felt weightless as she let it flop to the side as she watched Seruun put the cup away to fill another with water. Nomin was in a daze, her eyes locked on Seruun's tail until she turned around, and Nomin readjusted her dazed attention onto the shining brass baubles that glittered in the dim lighting that filtered through the ger's top.

"Here, your water…" Seruun said, bringing the cup to Nomin’s lips and sitting there to aid her.

"... Thanks…" Nomin said, tipping her head back into Seruuntungalag’s other hand and letting her help. It was an unusual experience to say the least -- that was what Nomin though, anyway. Especially as the cool water was perceived and felt going down her throat in this fog of weightlessness and feeling like her body was not fully in her control.

"Better?" Seruun asked after Nomin had finished half of her cup.

"Sleepy…water piss…" Nomin muttered, the pull of sleep being too great. Her eyes closed gradually and while she had little murmurings, those little indecipherable words gave way to deep breaths indicating slumber. Left with Nomin’s limp form, Seruun had put the cup down and laid her to rest more comfortably with a sheepish smile on her face.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: chotan sagahl #oc: checheyigen sagahl #oc: khulan sagahl #oc: turakina sagahl #oc: seruuntungalag gharl #NTK:Chronicles #au ra xaela #xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela gharl

6 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 10 months

Text

014. Jhungid

Learning in both excitement and frustration, Nomin is taught how to wield a bow and shoot her arrows. Little did she know that a storm was to roll in and change the course of her life.

Death, murder, and kidnapping in this chapter for those that may not wish to see or read about that content.

Word Count: 1,894

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several days after the incident at the beach was when Nomin got to meet more of the Mankhad. She was happy enough to see Baihingor again, tugging at Bayarmaa’s robes and pointing in his direction. Nomin had told her about how they had been at the beach, and he had saved them from a flying shark. Of course, Bayarmaa had been surprised to hear of all of this, causing her to scold the younger Xaela about not telling her right away when they had come back. And so, Nomin had found herself under the tutelage of a reluctant Esenaij.

With Esenaij, however, Nomin had been given a bow appropriate for her current size. Apparently Bayarmaa had berated her brother until he relented in taking the girl out to learn how to shoot. Even if she had to endure Esenaij’s grumbling and sour attitude, Nomin was excited to finally learn something other than about plants. While that knowledge was all well and good, learning to shoot or handle other weapons was something she looked forward to as well.

Nomin learned how to string her bow, she learned how to nock an arrow, she learned how to hold the bow -- not with a straight arm, but with her elbow slightly bent so that the string would not strike her when she loosed an arrow. But these were all the basics that Nomin needed to learn each and every day till she could do each and every single thing without fail, and without assistance from Esenaij.

The hardest part was actually pulling back on the bowstring consistently. She needed a certain amount of strength to pull the bowstring -- Esenaij had told her that she needed to learn how to pull back twenty ponze for the bow she had. There would be moments upon moments of the arrow falling from her hold, veering off the bow shelf and to the side, Nomin’s fingers slipping and causing the arrow to sink straight into the ground. It was all mildly frustrating to some extent as Nomin also had to endure Esenaij’s rather cold way of handling his teachings.

Moments when Nomin had gotten back to the ger, she often collapsed on her bed, frustrated and tired. On top of that, it had gotten hard to pay attention to what Bayarmaa had to teach her as well. So much time had to be put aside for learning that she had scarcely any time to draw the plants that she had been learning about. After all, Nomin had also told Bayarmaa about the baras iris, and after that…. Well, Bayarmaa had gone out of her way to find more irises that the Sagahl typically collected for antidotes, poisons, and teas.

A moon had passed, and tireless training soon saw both explosive fruition and frustration. Nomin had finally snapped at Esenaij one day, throwing her bow down and marching right back to the iloh to sulk. Days would come and go where she would try simply meeting with Chotan or Checheyigen so that she might find time to actually draw -- but even her drawings were lacking.

That was when Nomin’s marksmanship started to blossom when she came back to training.

Though Nomin’s aim was nowhere near the level of Esenaij’s, she had started hitting the targets that he had set up from old wood from their cargo. They were rather broad surface areas, giving leniency to being hit, but there had been other targets painted onto the wood that Nomin might strive for.

“That’s it. Keep yourself standing confident and strong,” Esenaij said one day, standing next to Nomin as she fired an arrow from her bow. She grew consistent in hitting her targets -- maybe not direct bullseyes, but near enough to finally earn Esenaij’s praise. Honestly, that praise was probably worth more than any amount of bullseyes that Nomin could have hit.

“You’ve been doing good, Nomin. Maybe we can see about having my sister making us buzzfly khorkhog to celebrate,” Esenaij said, musing to himself. He turned back to face Nomin, going on to say, “you’ve made much improvement. Maybe a few more days, and you shall be hitting your targets with utmost precision. I will be glad to see when you hit all your targe--”

Esenaij had been abruptly cut off. Nomin looked up to him curiously till she watched him stagger and then fall to his knees. For the first time, Nomin saw fear in his eyes. That was when she felt her heart stop for a brief moment for the first time since she had been with the Tumet.

“Nomin…” Esenaij forced himself to say, looking at her. “Run…!”

“Esenaij? I… I don’t want to lea--” Nomin started to say before he reached out and used whatever strength he had left to push her away to urge her to run.

“Run!” Esenaij yelled.

Gasping, Nomin nearly tripped over her own feet as she turned and ran. She clutched her bow in her hand, the arrows in her quiver at her hip jostling around with her desperate stride. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she slowed and stopped.

Esenaij was laying flat on the ground, and in his back, Nomin saw two arrows sticking out from him. Past his body, there were two Xaela archers bearing the colors of the Jhungid.

All Nomin could see at that moment was red. Her body acted out of anger and rage, her hand withdrawing and nocking an arrow automatically. Her chest heaved with heavy, loathing breaths as she lined up her shot. Letting the arrow loose, she screamed in frustration, sadness, and sheer unadulterated rage.

The arrow flew through the air, and while it did not hit one of the Xaela warrior’s heads, it managed to get them in the neck. Down he went, sputtering up blood as he did.

Nomin could only watch with brow furrowed, tears streaming down her face as they also blurred her vision. She could barely make out the other Xaela properly, but her anger fueled her desire to see both of them fall for what they did, and so she nocked another arrow with the same mechanical feel to her limbs as she moved.

Before Nomin even had a chance to fire, she felt ropes surrounding her body -- a sling had been chucked in her direction and wrapped itself around her. Her arrow was shot in some direction she had no control over as she, too, fell to the ground. Her frustration and anger now coalesced with fear as she screamed again, sobbing all the while.

It did not take long for the Xaela archer that had still been standing to make his way to Nomin and pick her up. He threw her over his shoulder, collecting her bow and arrows that had fallen. The former Tumet screamed and kicked in his grasp, though it seemed it did little as he brought her back with him. Though he seemed unfazed, Nomin was perhaps unconsciously determined to make his time with her as awful as it could have been.

Nomin could feel the wear of fatigue settling in her muscles and bones, but still she struggled and writhed. Until she could no longer. Til all she had strength left to do was cry.

The Jhungid man that carried her eventually made it to the site of the Sagahl Iloh, where some of the ger had been pulled down forcibly, and other members of the Sagahl had been taken captive. A woman rode atop a horse around the site, bearing the colours of the khatun. She had the air of a dictator.

Nomin was taken to where other Sagahl were grouped up. The first person that she recognized upon being set down was Turakina, and Nomin immediately went to her. The elder Sagahl wrapped her arms around Nomin and helped get the ropes of the sling off of her. As she did this, Nomin noticed that Bayarmaa was nowhere to be seen, and her stomach dropped.

“Turakina… where’s Bayarmaa?” Nomin whispered, her voice shaky and laden with grief.

“Don’t worry, little sister…” Turakina softly said back. “Bayarmaa escaped.”

That was the only amount of relief that could be afforded by Nomin. She looked around the other captured Sagahl. There were the other children, but Nomin could only see Checheyigen, Chotan, and Khulan. Both Jajiradai and Odchigen were missing.

“Sagahl! You should consider it an honour and a privilege that you be made part of the Jhungid this day! With us, you shall become the battle hardened warriors we Xaela are proud to be!” the Jhungid khatun spoke. Her voice rang out with clarity, even as her horse paced about the site of the iloh. “And once we have nurtured your true battle potential, you shall join us in battle against the Kharlu!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silun Gorgelji… that was the name of the khatun that the Jhungid answered to. She led the tribe of over several hundred members with three others that shared authority underneath her to keep certain things in line.

The three that saw to keeping order in the tribe were thus: Terbish, a female warrior who had been decorated highly with the skins and beast parts of her greatest hunts. Harghasun, a master among the Jhungid with the bow and sling who was rumoured to have the ability to hit his mark from the bottom of the Tail Mountains to the other side of the Ceol Aen. Taragai, one of the best among the tribe in the arts of hand-to-hand combat and bökh.

Among those three, there were others that they entrusted with making sure individuals of the tribe and those captured were seeing to their chores and training. It was all part of the system of the tribe to keep it orderly and to keep it running to their standards. To make sure no one shirked their responsibilities, and to make sure they had everything in order before their war for territory with the Kharlu.

Nomin had the unfortunate situation of having to learn to wield a spear and bow both with Chotan, Checheyigen, and Khulan. They had been separated from Turakina, who had been forced, with the other older Sagahl, to gather food and herbs for the Jhungid. While Nomin had been eager to learn how to fend for herself, and despite her frustrations before, she saw how it affected the other children.

Perhaps it was her initial Tumet upbringing that hardened her in this situation overall, but Nomin’s heart could not help but to bleed for Che, Chotan, and Khulan. Both of the girls were typically quiet, happy to learn more of their books, or of nature -- both of them had grown weary and scared of failing their training. Khulan, on the other hand, was the youngest, and seemed easily distressed over the way the girls had been handling the situation -- which was to say they did not handle it terribly well.

One night, when Chotan had been reprimanded with a slap across her face that saw her flower hairpin fall and get crushed, Nomin sat with the children in their shelter. Her brow was set in a deep furrow. She had been frustrated with everything, and she still silently mourned the death of Esenaij. Curling her hands into fists, she vowed to herself: “I will free the other tribes from the Jhungid.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: turakina sagahl #au ra xaela #xaela #xaela jhungid #xaela headcanons #NTK:Chronicles #tw: kidnapping #tw: death #tw: murder

2 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 11 months

Text

010. Bolir

Paused in their travel northeast for migration, Nomin catches Bayarmaa taking the wain for the first time and follows along after her. Finding out that she is on her way to see another tribe, Nomin asks if she can come along. Though hesitant, Bayarmaa allows Nomin to come along with her and Turakina to make trade with the tribe of Bolir. Unfortunately, this means coming to some late revelations.

... Sorry, the Bolir deal and trade in manure for fuel. There's gonna be fecal mentions. Nothing that isn't related to their way of life and trading it as fuel.

Word Count: 3,799

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

It was early afternoon by the time that Nomin returned to the Sagahl Iloh with the rest of the van that she traveled alongside. Honestly, the whole excursion exhausted her, and what seemed to exhaust her more was the fact that they needed to get ready to travel early the next morning to the next site of migration for the spring. Thankfully, it seemed that a large majority of their belongings were already packed away -- including Nomin’s own paltry amount of items that she accrued since being with the Sagahl.

When morning broke, the Sagahl were told by the khatun that they were heading east toward the coast as they packed their belongings and disassembled their ger. This was news that excited Nomin the most. She had never been out toward the coast in any fashion. She had heard stories of the ocean and of the sandy shores that bordered it. There was, however, nothing in her memories that allowed her to imagine what it must have looked like based on being there previously.

Getting to see the ocean for the first time was an exciting prospect.

“What's that?” Nomin asked Bayarmaa as they were getting the last of their belongings and ger materials situated upon Esenaij's wain. Her thoughts were broken now as Nomin brought up a hand to point toward someone else's wain that was packed with nothing but planters in various stages of growth.

“That is a personal growing box - or a series of planters. Hard to tell from this distance. Some of us make such things to keep certain plants growing for so long as we can properly care for them,” Bayarmaa explained as she fitted her own harness around herself to help with distributing the weight of all their belongings between herself and Esenaij.

“Do you ever have boxes like that?” Nomin asked.

“Sometimes. Especially if we need to focus on growing some food. I've typically grown smaller things like popotoes. Something a little hearty that we can use for soups and other things should we need them,” Bayarmaa said.

With the explanation out of the way and Nomin’s curiosity sated, the Sagahl were soon on their way. The migration took time, of course, especially without the aid of such beasts of burden like horses or dzo. During their travels outside the Sea of Blades that made up the grasslands, Nomin often found time to walk with Jajiradai, Chotan, and Odchigen. She regaled them with tales of her time going out to Nhaama’s Retreat, embellishing certain details of moments like the run-in with the pack of gedan that threatened their way to the Dotharl Khaa. She even spoke of the Dataq and how they seemed to know how to tell the weather before it hit, or the Malqir and how they played games as part of their lifestyle.

Of course, such stories of adventure and excitement tickled the other children…and it even caught the attention of another girl who had been traveling not too far away from the overall group. Having perked up, this girl started to follow along after them, keeping pace along behind them to listen in on their conversation.

The girl's presence did not go unnoticed, for Nomin looked over her shoulder when the back of her neck kept tickling and itching. When Nomin made eye contact with the other girl, the girl seemed surprised before turning back and running toward her family. Finding the behavior odd at best, Nomin did her best to shrug it off as she continued her walk alongside those who she considered her friends within the tribe.

Days went by as the Sagahl traveled the Sea of Blades and finally got to a mountain valley pass. Nomin stared at the wide pass in wonder, her little tail flicking with interest behind her. She was told the place they stood, before the Southern Arras, led toward the Bay of Yanxia. It was here before this pass that the Sagahl stopped in order to have a few days of rest.

During these days of downtime, Nomin got to try shuvuukhai for the first time. She even got to help with the hunt! Sort of…

Nomin had accompanied Esenaij on his hunt. Bayarmaa convinced him to do so, and he reluctantly allowed Nomin to come along so that she could be taught further on how to use a bow. Watching him strike down the giant vilekin with relative ease had been an impressive feat to her.

Though Nomin had been hesitant at first when they brought the buzzfly back, the roasted outer shell of the buzzfly was cracked open to reveal the juicy flesh within that reminded her a little of the crab that the Tumet had traded the Ejinn for in the past. In more ways than one! If anything, she was just grateful it smelled better than it looked.

Little did Nomin realize, however, that she should have savored the tantalizing scents of her meals. A day rolled around where Bayarmaa was seen getting ready for travel. What was more interesting to Nomin was that Bayarmaa took the wain with her this time around. Not only that, but it seemed the wain had been packed with boxes of things to trade.

Bayarmaa never took the wain as far as Nomin knew!

Her interest piqued, Nomin followed along after Bayarmaa. She was not moving quickly, thankfully enough for Nomin as she jogged to close the distance. Once Nomin finally reached Bayarmaa, she soon tugged at her robes briefly. This caused Bayarmaa to give a slight start before she faced Nomin and shrugged the wain’s harness from herself.

“Nomin!” Bayarmaa sounded a little surprised, though she leaned down so that she was more eye level with Nomin. She smiled, a sheepish look befalling her face. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to know where you were going. Can I come, too?” Nomin asked. Her tail flicked with excitement for the answer to be ‘yes.’

“Oh, um…” Bayarmaa rose back up to her full height, hesitating. “I’m not too sure you’ll enjoy it. But…Turakina and I were going to travel a little ways to where the Bolir have set up their iloh for the season. Our tribes made contact not too long ago, but I believe you were out with Esenaij when they visited with us.”

“... ‘Bolir’?” Nomin’s face scrunched up in slight confusion.

“Ah, perhaps the Tumet did not often trade with them…” Bayarmaa mused to herself. “The Bolir collect and trade fuel for fire. Though, to us Sagahl, they also make some of the best fertilizer that we can use for some of our planters to help grow things outside of their normal areas.”

Nomin brought a finger to her chin, thinking about what she was told. “Were you going to make some planters?”

“I thought about it. Though the sacks I plan to bring back will be more for the tribe than just myself.” Bayarmaa then hesitated. “You could come along, but I'm not quite sure how much you'd like tagging along.”

“Why?” Nomin pursed her lips, trying to hide a frown.

“Well…” Bayarmaa thought about how to word her explanation. “The Bolir collects waste from animals; their dung… And, well, they dry it, then heat it up to make lumps of charcoal that burn for much longer than wood can. We’ll need to stockpile this when we have the opportunity. We don’t normally need to use it till the winter, but with Xaela migrations being unpredictable, this may be our only chance short of traveling out to Reunion and hoping a Boliri merchant is present.”

Nomin’s mouth fell agape. In disbelief, she blurted out: “you're going to trade for dung?”

In response, Bayarmaa laughed briefly. When she collected herself, she straightened her hair and then shook her head with amusement. “You are still yet young. In time, you will grow to appreciate what the lands and those who reside upon it have to offer.”

For a moment, Nomin pursed her lips into a frown. She highly doubted she would ever appreciate dung. No matter how well people said it worked for certain things!

“Bayarmaa~!” came the recognizable, singsong voice of Turakina. Both Nomin and Bayarmaa looked in her direction. Where Bayarmaa waved in greeting, Nomin only stared for a moment before lifting her hand in a halfhearted fashion.

Turakina paused when she saw Nomin, smiling between her and Bayarmaa. “Is Nomin accompanying us to the Bolir Iloh?”

Bayarmaa looked back down at Nomin. “Did you still want to come?”

Nomin's tail flicked with residual excitement, and she nodded ecstatically. Even if the Bolir traded in dung, how bad could it have really been? Especially if other tribes were willing to trade with them? Even if Nomin was resolved to not find appreciation in their applications, at least she could learn more of the Boliri people!

Nomin hurried along to get herself seated in the back of the wain. Before she crawled in, however, Bayarmaa stopped her and then handed her a cloth. Nomin held it and stared down at it before looking back up at Bayarmaa inquisitively.

“What's this for?” Nomin asked.

“It's for your nose and mouth. You'll need it,” Bayarmaa briefly explained before she walked back toward the front of the wain to get the harness attached. She tugged on the rope for a moment, making sure it was secure, especially once Nomin crawled in.

The small group went well on their way to the Bolir Iloh. Nomin watched the land as they went past, her eyes mostly going toward the tall mountains they were going to travel past once the khatun was sure they were ready for travel. Her excitement for traveling and getting to see the ocean for the first time bubbled back, knowing that it was just beyond that pass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Approaching the Bolir Iloh was beyond obvious. It was repugnant. Nomin now understood why Bayarmaa handed her that cloth and frantically fished it out of her deel to tie it around her mouth and nose. Having the cloth tied around her nose and mouth made a difference, but it simply was not enough. The air was tainted and foul, and Nomin’s eyes watered.

Turakina and Bayarmaa both had their cloth strips wrapped around their faces. They tied them on a good ways before even getting near the Bolir Iloh. When Nomin saw the ger, she thought it still too far away to warrant such early preparation. Even with Bayarmaa's warning prior.

Nomin now knew better should she ever want to venture toward the Bolir in the future.

“The Bolir just…smell that every day?” Nomin asked, pressing even the fabric of her sleeve against her nose and mouth. What traces of filtered air she could manage were a welcome boon compared to the air that out-stenched a horse or dzo’s rear end. Especially since the smell made her want to gag in disgust. The smell still bled through the fabric, and she sniffled every now and then, blowing air through her nostrils as if it were going to blow the scent away at all.

“The longer you live around a certain smell, the less noticeable it becomes,” Bayarmaa explained, looking over her shoulder.

“Yes, that's right!” Turakina chimed, her golden eyes revealing the smile that her protective cloth covered. “My mother and I, for example, handle a lot of strongly scented herbs and remedies. But I only know they smell so strongly now because others tell me at this point. Growing up, I had a lot of time to live around and get used to it. The Bolir and their lifestyle would easily offer them the same.”

Nomin frowned. Again, she found herself wondering if she could ever get used to something like that. As far as she was concerned, it seemed, and smelled, like the Bolir had it the worst of any tribe she knew of thus far. And Nomin liked to believe she knew of plenty! She could count them past all ten of her fingers, after all. Plenty!

Opening her mouth in order to speak, Nomin quickly closed it. The stench really was too much. Even with the cloth.

So Nomin resolved to use her mouth as little as possible. Much as she had questions or things she wanted to say. She remained aware, though, her attention going to new and unknown things to her. Like these large clay structures that sat on wains of their own, albeit smaller. Some of them were in use, fires blazing within their pits and smoke billowing from their flues.

“... What are those?” Nomin asked, making sure she was loud enough to have been heard, but also quickly enough so she did not get the scent of the area within.

“Those are Boliri kilns,” Bayarmaa replied, continuing her way toward the Bolir Iloh. “They're baking some of their products now. Had I known, I'd have probably made you stay with Jajiradai or Chotan's families back at the Sagahl. Baking and prepping the fuel briquettes makes the smell worse.”

Nomin pouted from beneath her covering, hating the idea of not being able to come along. She was also upset that she lacked the foresight to stay back among the Sagahl. Perhaps she could have even learned more of how to use her bow with Daritai or Barghujin. No point in thinking about all of that now, however.

“So what makes their fuel so good?” Nomin asked, trying not to dwell on the negative aspects of what could have been.

“Boliri briquettes can burn for bells at a time, keeping the fires warm. We'll need longer lasting warmth when night falls along the coast when we travel through the pass,” Bayarmaa replied.

“Won't they smell?” Nomin then scrunched her nose with disgust as she thought about that being a possibility.

Turakina laughed gently and shook her head. Slowing her walk briefly to walk alongside the wain where Nomin was, she said, “That is actually the wonderful part about these sources of fuel. Once they've been properly made and are ready, they don't actually smell bad when used.”

Frowning in thought over this, Nomin leaned over the side of the wain and looked at the clay kilns. Her eyes then went back to the wains they were mounted upon. She considered them carefully, noting how the kilns were constructed to keep the flames inside and from ruining the wains -- not to mention how the wains were thicker to carry the weight of such constructs reliably.

Next, Nomin’s attention went to the stacks of dark gray colored briquettes that were stacked like pyramids. She watched some people pull briquettes from the kilns, laying them out and stacking them. She frowned from beneath her face covering, realizing what those briquettes were once she connected the dots from what Bayarmaa explained to her, and seeing what these Boliri tribespeople were doing.

Nomin then looked to the Bolir people who were working outside around the kilns. There were some who sat on the ground, working fresh dung, what looked like ash, and water into briquette molds before setting them aside. There were even children that sat or worked alongside them, being taught the tribal lifestyle to keep their trade strong. Seeing them work with the dung made Nomin scrunch her nose slightly before she looked at the people that were taking the filled molds to place within the kilns.

Then the wain finally lurched to a stop.

Nomin peered over at Bayarmaa before realizing they were halted in front of an earthy brown ger. Both Bayarmaa and Turakina were speaking with a younger xaela woman -- she could not have been much older than Nomin. Maybe three to four years older than her.

“Is Oyunchimeg not around?” Nomin overheard Turakina ask.

“Mother is working the kilns today. She told me to expect you, though,” the young woman said. Nomin watched as the young woman walked to the side of the ger, soon dragging two crates through the small patch of grass toward Bayarmaa and Turakina. The crates carried five sacks each, each one would be an armful if carried one by one.

Nomin looked over the young woman, tail flicking with piqued interest. The woman wore a sleeveless deel, the same kind of earthy brown as the ger around them. She also lacked a face covering, proving what Bayarmaa and Turakina said as true -- that the Bolir must have been used to the rancid stench around them.

“All well and good. We have our seeds for trade,” Bayarmaa replied. Bayarmaa detached herself from the wain and walked around to the back. She had much smaller sacks in a crate that she dragged off the bed and placed in front of the young Boliri woman.

“And this is for corn and wheat?” The woman crouched down, opening the sacks to look at the seeds and kernels.

“That's right,” Bayarmaa confirmed. Nomin crawled to the front of the wain, watching the transaction curiously. Bayarmaa looked pleasant enough as she continued; “we also have popoto eyes for you to grow. One of our elders thought it best to offer them since much of your grains are reserved for your livestock.”

“That's thoughtful of the Sagahl. You have our thanks.” The Boliri woman stood back up with a smile on her face. “If that's all, then the first crate we have for you has fertilizer for your crops. The second crate is half fertilizer, half fuel briquettes.”

“Much appreciated!” Turakina clapped her hands together once, her eyes showing joy. “When we travel back with dried herbs, fruits, and creations from our plants, we shall be glad to gift what we can to the Bolir!”

The Boliri girl beamed. “Mother will be glad to hear it! The teas and herbal salves the Sagahl gave us from our last trade have served us well! We look forward to getting restocked when summer reaches us.”

With the transaction having finished up, Bayarmaa and Turakina worked together in lifting the crates and getting them into the bed of the wain. Nomin recoiled to the other side, grimacing as she put distance between herself and the foul smelling crate. She looked over, however, when she noticed the young Boliri woman looking back at Bayarmaa and Turakina with an expression that seemed to look as if she had something to say.

“Um…” the Boliri started.

Turakina turned her attention toward her while Bayarmaa gathered up some rope to secure the crates from sliding around. “Something wrong?”

“I just remember Mother telling me that we needed to be careful is all…” The Boliri woman glanced between Turakina and Nomin. Her gaze lingered on Nomin before it went back to Turakina. “She said that since the Jhungid and Kharlu are like to have finished up their annual conflict over the eastern coast, that they could be on the hunt for tribes to take into themselves.”

Nomin leaned in to listen. Though she had never seen the tribes that were mentioned, there was no Xaela of the Steppe who did not know the three largest tribes -- the Jhungid and Kharlu being two such tribes after the Adarkim. What Nomin wanted to know, however, was more about the tribes. The change in Turakina’s eyes, however, clued Nomin in as to how it seemed other tribes viewed them.

Turakina’s expression fell and hardened -- a look Nomin was not used to on her face in the time she knew her. Even Bayarmaa paused in securing the crates to give her attention to the information being shared with them. It felt difficult for Nomin to wrap her head around such large tribes being regarded with caution and disdain.

“Mm… I'm guessing they've been sighted further south than usual if the Bolir are concerned…” Turakina inferred. “We'll bear that in mind and inform our khatun ere we travel further through the pass. Thanks for letting us know.”

A small, halfhearted smile appeared on the Boliri’s face as she nodded in acknowledgement to Turakina’s words. Lifting a hand, she waved and replied, “then take care on your migration, Sagahl. I would hate to learn of anything happening to one of our most valued friends and trade partners.”

Once the small party was back on the way toward the current site of the Sagahl, Nomin pondered asking questions that welled within her mind since overhearing everything with the young Boliri woman. There were certainly concerns…

“... Will traveling to set up the iloh really be safe where we're going?” Nomin finally asked after a time. “Are the Jhungid and Kharlu really all that dangerous?”

Though Bayarmaa did not stop her pulling of the wain to answer Nomin's question, she did cast a look of concern in Turakina’s direction. It seemed Turakina shared this concern, though she was faster to return a pleasant look that could be reflected in her eyes as she looked back at Nomin.

“Usually we need not worry…” Turakina said, attempting to assuage any unease Nomin had. Pulling her face covering down, Turakina continued, “generally, we have the protection of the Mankhad or Haragin who also tend to travel the coast in their migrations.”

“Will I get to meet them?” Nomin asked, perking up slightly.

“Perhaps! They both often migrate close to the shoreline because of their own crafts or ways of life.” Turakina grinned in Nomin’s direction. “But we’ll certainly find out as spring progresses. We’ll likely be traveling back down into the Sea of Blades once summer reaches us.”

Settling down into the wain, Nomin found renewed excitement for getting to travel further east. Idly, she removed the cloth covering from around her nose and mouth seeing as Turakina had done so, and they were far enough away from the Bolir Iloh. When Nomin inhaled deeply of the air, she looked at the sacks on the opposite side of the wain and let out a hum of consideration.

“... Huh…” Nomin placed the cloth within her pouch. “The sacks don’t smell bad? Don’t they have dung in them?”

In response, both Bayarmaa and Turakina laughed lightly before Bayarmaa offered yet another explanation: “once everything is properly made by the Bolir, the odor goes away. They only trade it or offer what they make once enough time has passed that the stench goes away.”

Nomin furrowed her brow. “But how do they know the smell is gone? You said they got used to the smell.”

Amusement gave way to shared surprise between both Bayarmaa and Turakina as they exchanged glances. It seemed like neither of them considered that aspect.

“Well…surely they must have an expectation during their work to know when what they make is ready for trade or use…” Bayarmaa considered. “Maybe the next time you meet someone from the Bolir, you can ask them.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv au ra #au ra ffxiv #au ra #au ra xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela bolir #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: turakina sagahl #NTK:Chronicles

2 notes · View notes

paintedscales · 9 months

Text

022. Noykin

Journeying form the Malaguld Iloh, Nomin starts her trek across the Steppe in earnest. Where her feet or Horse will take her, she has no idea. Though she certainly never expected for her journey to start off with such an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 3,246

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nomin’s time with the Malaguld and her Sagahli brethren were moments that she had to cherish each and every part of. Though Narantuyaa started her journey back to the Mol with some Malaguld escorts, she had left Nomin with a parting gift -- and nothing to have been taken lightly, either. At least by Mol standards.

They were shagai -- a kind of dice set -- made of polished bone, and her parting words were: “even if you may not find yourself turning to the Gods for guidance, should you ever find yourself looking for an answer, roll these and see what They have to say to you.”

At first, Nomin had let out a scoff of dry amusement once Narantuyaa had gone and she had only the shagai to reflect upon. She thought it terribly ironic that she would be given something in order to commune with the Gods. Heartfelt and meaningful as the gift was all things considered, Nomin had only found herself staring at the red leather pouch at first. It had been a sometimes subconscious thing in between conversations or drawing in her journal.

In a few days' time, however, Nomin had found herself idly rolling the sheep bone dice between her fingers, feeling the polished surfaces in her palm. Though she had been no stranger to the games played with these ankle bone dice, using them for divination was something she never saw herself doing when she did play such games with her Sagahli brethren, or even with other Jhungid peers that had originally been from other tribes. Luckily, Narantuyaa had also given her a refresher on the positions before departing.

Horse and sheep were lucky sides with horse being the luckiest -- they were the convex sides. Camel and goat sides were unlucky -- they were the concave sides. Rolling all four was indicative of good fortune. Nomin could remember that…hopefully.

Placing the dice back into the red pouch, Nomin sighed and went to retrieve a notebook she had asked the Malaguld for. Her handwriting was still shaky, but she could at least read what she wrote now after learning more of what she could with the Jhungid. She made notes about the divination of the shagai by the remaining light of the day before sighing to herself.

Nomin’s heart weighed heavily in her chest. She already had a number of materials for travel: dried meats, dried fruit, rope, jars of fat, jam, butter, two waterskins, aaruul, charcoal -- both for writing and keeping her fire warm, a light blanket made from flax, her bow, her quiver and arrows, and a new journal.

Still…even with as prepared as she felt, she felt guilt for knowing that she would be hurting those she cared about by simply leaving.

It was not an easy task she set for herself.

When the next morning came, Nomin had made sure she was one of the first to awake by bedding early the night before. She gathered her belongings and went out to where Horse had been penned. Getting him dressed in his tack, Nomin had been tightening his saddle when she suddenly turned at the sound of someone approaching, arms raised to fight out of instinct from surprise attack training from the Jhungid. However, when Nomin saw who was standing there, she relaxed, sighing as she dropped her hands to her side.

“Turakina…” Nomin started, shaking her head. “I’m not staying if you’re going to try and convince me to.”

“I’m not,” Turakina replied simply. She was holding a book in her hands that Nomin could sort of make out in the dawn's light. When it had been handed to her, Nomin slowly reached for it and took it. That was when Turakina spoke up again: “more of our teachings -- what knowledge we have as Sagahl. To aid you wherever you might not have been able to learn yourself.” Nomin looked down at the book, then back at Turakina. She was at a loss for words.

“I may not have been able to be the same teacher Bayarmaa was to you, or even the same as…as Esenaij…” Turakina said. It seemed that even for her, the topic of Esenaij and what she had learned from Nomin had been a sore spot for the both of them. “But…the Jhungid had some of us compiling what we knew to turn into books for their people. We took some of the ones we had made to bring back to their rightful place… That one is for you.”

“I’m…but I’m not…” Nomin started to say, an ache in her heart remembering Esenaij’s last words to her that urged her to run. Quietly, she finished her thought, “I’m not Sagahl…”

“You are, little sister. You are one of us.” Turakina firmly placed her hands on both sides of Nomin’s shoulders. She stared down into Nomin’s eyes, her brow furrowed.

“Your time with us as a whole may have been cut short, but hold no doubt in your heart that you are one of us. Bayarmaa and Esenaij took you into their care where they could…and I’m sorry that I could not do the same when we were with the Jhungid.” Turakina’s grip tightened both affectionately, and to emphasize her words. “What you did for us, Nomin? The feat that you achieved to see us safe and on our way back to where we belong? You. Are. Sagahl. And maybe you will choose to not bear our tribe in your name, but you have a place among us -- you are one of us.”

With that, Turakina pulled Nomin into a tight embrace.

For a moment, Nomin seemed unsure of what to do before she finally lifted her arms and hugged Turakina back. One free hand clutching onto the fabric of her clothing as her eyes stung with tears. This was one thing she had been afraid of happening -- she did not want a tearful goodbye. But all things considered, maybe it was a better goodbye than merely leaving without saying anything at all.

"If…" Nomin started, letting out a choked sigh. "If you see Bayarmaa again…please tell her that not a day passed that I wasn't thinking of her and Esenaij. A-And…that I'm sorry. For everything. For Esenaij."

Upon hearing Nomin’s plea, Turakina’s embrace upon Nomin tightened. Softly, she responded, "you can be sure that I will. Just…remember that none of this was ever your fault. Esenaij wasn't your fault. He would have been proud of you in his own way. I know he would."

Nomin’s breath hitched in her throat, and tears finally started streaming down her face as her fingers curled into Turakina’s robes. Her heart hurt in her chest; she was conscientious of every beat it made -- how it felt as it beat. As if something were lodged within and her heart struggled to beat against or around it.

When they finally parted, Nomin got upon Horse and looked at Turakina whilst rubbing the tears from her eyes and face, putting the book away into her satchel. She gave the Malaguld Iloh one last look before clicking her tongue and then urging Horse into a gallop toward the southwest.

Where their journey would take them, even Nomin had no idea, but anything was better than the potential for endangering those she called family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winds gently blew past Nomin and Horse as the two of them traversed back out through the Ceol Aen. A song danced upon the winds as the singing stones offered what they could after their generations of wear. It had still been an experience worth noting for Nomin as she stopped Horse and took a moment to listen to the chorus of notes that sang with the wind’s passing.

Humming with the notes at times, Nomin had taken the time to dismount Horse and pop a couple aaruul into her mouth to idly suckle upon. She had a great view of the land, and it would have been a shame to let that go to waste. With her journal, Nomin flipped to a blank canvas of vellum before starting to sketch out the lands and their features.

Life was exceedingly peaceful at this moment. Almost too peaceful for some, but for Nomin…well, she did her best to scan the area every now and then to ensure that no one was ready to sneak up on her. A watchful eye certainly served her well, but it was when she heard sharp whistling and whooping that she looked around for the disturbance. The beating of hooves were apparent, but the whistling and whooping seemed much more a threat to the sounds of the wind Nomin had otherwise been enjoying.

There were three riders on horses, and one who was not. The one who was not had rope in his hands, and he was working with the other riders to catch a horse that had been both riderless and without saddle. Curiosity getting the better of her, Nomin slowly closed her book and put it and her drawing utensils away.

Luckily, it seemed Horse was fine grazing away in the grass. His ear only flicked every now and then, clearly listening to the disruptive riders. However, it seemed that the training he underwent with the Jhungid had desensitized him to battle and what would have otherwise been alarming sounds. All in the name of preparing the steed for combat. Nomin had to count her blessings there, thankfully.

One of the things that Nomin had noticed about the riders is that they all wore the same tribal color, however…the one without a horse to ride upon wore a color Nomin had seen in the past. She thought hard about it before she realized that the young man down there trying to lasso the horse on foot was a member of the Dotharl.

An interesting sight to behold, all things considered.

Sharp whistles sounded again, and the horse that it seemed the group was chasing had reared a couple of times before the Dotharli man had finally managed to get the lasso tossed and secured onto it. The horse nickered and struggled, but the Dotharli man had managed to stand his own ground, avoiding any potential injuries from the equine beast.

The whooping that came from the horse riders this time was different. They cheered after the horse had been lassoed, and pumped their fists into the air to celebrate the Dotharl’s success in at least doing what he could. Nomin was a little curious what the group was going to do as a whole, but that might have been something she would have to follow them back to their iloh for.

That was not particularly a thought or plan she had wanted to commit herself to.

Though, it seemed that Nomin’s curiosities were interrupted when someone noticed her presence. One of the riders -- a woman -- had called out, pointing specifically at the former Tumet.

Startled, Nomin started for her horse, thinking it a safer bet that she should run rather than stay. After all, whoever that tribe was, they were with a Dotharl -- and even if Nomin had relatively positive interaction with the Dotharl the brief time she had seen them several summers ago, there was no telling how this one would be outside the Khaa.

“Sister of Malaguld! Why do you run?” the first female rider called out. Nomin was acutely reminded how she was wearing the colors of the Malaguld, and she paused for a moment. “You cannot possibly be afraid of our Dotharli ally, can you?”

In truth, Nomin kind of was, considering how the Dotharl reveled in combat from the stories she had heard shared and what she knew of the tribe. She had even borne witness to one of their rituals where the khan or khatun looked into the eyes of one of the newborns to see whose soul now inhabited the child. Their reincarnations and cycles are what made them unkillable, made them the ‘undying’.

Even as battle-hardened as she had been, Nomin was not interested in combat. Not unless her life really depended on it.

“My apologies…” Nomin meekly called back. “I was not to stay here too long. I am on a journey south and east, toward Reunion.”

In the back of her mind, Nomin was now just wondering heavily what tribe these people were from -- especially if they saw the Malaguld as allies. Given their desire to cow and capture a horse, she thought of the Goro or Dataq, but the colors she saw them wear did not align at all with what she knew.

“In another time, you wore the colors of the Sagahl. Today, you wear the colors of Malaguld…” the Dotharl spoke, walking up to the others with the horse they had been chasing in tow. The horse clearly still resisted, though it seemed the Dotharli man had a firm grip on the rope. “Should I congratulate you for a marriage, or question if you’ve integrated with a different tribe?”

Nomin felt her heart race as she backed up and placed a hand on Horse’s saddle. Did she know this Dotharli individual?

“I do know that you’re a friend, though, and that you stand among friends all the same,” the Dotharl continued with conviction, making Nomin pause. He looked up at her before reaching into his robes and pulling the leather cord around his neck.

When the pendant was revealed, Nomin stared at the shard of copper in surprise, a gasp leaving her lips. She recognized it as the tool that she used to free herself from her trial of ten summers -- and though she never thought she would ever see it again, she felt her heart swell.

Memories of their meeting came rushing back. How they sat in the shade of Esenaij’s wain and shared their shared experiences with one another. What a series of events that she would see the Sagahl well and run into an old friendly acquaintance soon after.

“Arik…” Nomin whispered under her breath with a small smile.

“I told you I was reincarnated from the Noykin, did I not? I decided to pursue my old life’s talents,” Arik called out to her, a smile growing upon his own lips. “It is good to see you in good health, my friend. It has been some time!”

“... I…I promised, didn’t I?” Nomin asked, laughing to try and prevent the happy tears that threatened to overcome her. The emotions she felt surely were just another byproduct of having been with the Jhungid for that time -- wondering if she would have ever seen old friends and the like. She held them back, though, her wide smile remaining firm upon her face as she beheld Arik.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nomin rode Horse behind the three others of the Noykin while Arik walked alongside her, having to temper the horse that still resisted him more times than not. Nomin learned of the other three riders’ names: the two women were Mide and Uranchimeg, while the other man was Hychyt.

While the two of them traveled side-by-side, Nomin and Arik shared stories and spoke of their experiences, though the mood had gone somber rather quickly when Nomin shared of her time with the Sagahl and then the Jhungid. It was clear that the tales of her time with them upset Arik greatly.

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Arik breathed, gritting his teeth. He sighed to dispel his clearly growing anger at the situation shared with him before looking up at Nomin and apologizing, “sorry. Had I known of the trials and tribulations ahead of you at the time…well, I don’t know what I would have done. When we first met, I was just happy I made a friend that seemed to be like me in some way. Born to a tribe where they knew they did not belong.”

Glancing at Arik after he had made such a statement, Nomin’s eyes flicked downward and then up. She observed him again, noting the garb he wore once more.

“Might I ask why you still don the Dotharl colors?” Nomin inquired, genuinely curious.

“Ah…the Noykin regard my tales from the Dotharl with skepticism. Of course, should I be bold enough to tell Sadu khatun of any of my own doubts, I would surely be banished from ever returning to the Dotharl should my exploits here prove fruitless,” Arik spoke, waving a hand in front of his face with a hint of annoyance. “But…the Noykin said they would accept me should I tame a wild stallion of the Steppe and break it within three days. Such is the claim of the previous Arik.”

Glancing back at the horse behind him, Arik grinned and then looked at Nomin. “The khatun bade me capture and tame this particular one -- Wild Sun.”

“I see…” Nomin replied, thinking about it for a moment. She looked at Arik properly as they traveled alongside one another.

He had certainly grown much taller -- easily as tall as any proud Xaela warrior born as male. His horns had developed well, too, sharply curving forward. So too did his tail, the appendage sleek and long; starting smooth and ending in a taper that saw no distress. His scales were a lovely, deep obsidian with subtle flecks of dark red along the outlines of the scales.

A pang of envy had beat in her heart.

“Is something wrong, Nomin?” Arik asked, looking up at her.

That was when Nomin had finally caught herself staring, and she turned away, surprised by herself more than anything. She shook her head and just scoffed, replying to his question with: “sorry…no, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just…a lot changes in five summers, does it not? We’ve certainly grown.”

The corners of Arik’s lips twitched upward in a small smile. He looked ahead at the Noykin riders, watching them converse happily among themselves. It seemed evident the other three were giving both Arik and Nomin the space they required to speak with one another and catch up.

“Indeed…” Arik finally concurred. “Truth be told, the only reason I recognized you at all was because of your scales.”

“Ah…yes… These blemishes that set me apart from everyone else… What Xaela worth their scales would not be able to see me riding a malm away?” Her tone contained the slight venom of self-loathing, and Nomin looked at the mottling on the scales on one of her hands. She had been made fun of and teased by Jhungid children and teens who were the perpetrators of internal conflict regarding her scales. She had been a target for plenty, the nickname of ‘Broken Scale’ being a prevalent one of the time.

If only she had still been around Bayarmaa, things might have been different. At least…that was what Nomin believed.

“... They certainly set you apart, Nomin…but they’re by no means blemishes… They’re unique. Different! Like the both of us. I always thought they looked rather…well, nice,” Arik admitted. “I thought your markings also the reason you named yourself ‘Nomin’.”

“They were… I was young, I didn’t think of anything better…” Nomin said, deflecting. It was only half true.

“It was a name given through the voice and eyes of a child who saw herself for who she was and the future she wanted. You found meaning in that.”

Arik’s words were touching, but also profound in the moment. Nomin could really only watch the back of Horse’s head as another scoff fell from her lips, this one silent this time.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #au ra xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela noykin #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: turakina sagahl #oc: arik dotharl (noykin)#oc: mide noykin #oc: uranchimeg noykin #oc: hychyt noykin #NTK:Chronicles

0 notes