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paintedscales · 6 days

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Tagged again by @archaiclumina, thank you! :>

Since I did these for Nomin, here's some for Esenaij!

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.

“You are a Tumet with a name. You are separated from your parents,” the Sagahl stubbornly said. “Now stop making such a racket. You’re driving away customers.”

A grunt came from Esenaij as Nomin pelted him with questions. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, shaking his head as he went back to keeping his eyes forward. “You will learn in the morning, perhaps. For now, you should get sleep. The Tumet must have started the ritual early, and you surely must also be tired from everything?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Bayarmaa…. She claims herself freed of her bindings from the Tumeti trial. That she came to Reunion first instead of returning to the site of the Tumet Iloh for their new turn of the year migration,” Esenaij softly explained after his initial annoyance, doing his best to keep his voice at a whisper so as not to wake the sleeping girl.

“‘Pity’?” Esenaij sneered slightly. “She was insistent that she had no tribe and wished to roam the lands as a ‘child of the Steppe.’ Her words, not mine. I thought it wouldn’t do her well to venture off on her own. Baras and gedan are not wont to act out of mercy even for a child, let alone the matanga. She is better under the care and guidance of those that are willing to give it rather than striking it out on her own like she seemed keen on doing had I not made her sit at my stall.”

“Perhaps…but then again, they are one with the star now. We would never know their words, their feelings, nor their thoughts on this…” Esenaij replied. Shaking his head, he scoffed. “Still…I hesitate to call this a ‘good’ decision on my part. Were mother and father still with us, maybe then I would believe Nomin could be raised properly. But just us, Bayarmaa? We’re barely out of childhood ourselves… How are we to take care of her?”

"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…"

“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!”

"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.

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?”

“I don’t have an answer for you…” Esenaij replied. “She is not of our tribe, so it’s hard for me to even begin to tell you what may become of her.”

“No.” Esenaij folded his arms over his chest, staring down Nomin, his gaze unwavering. “You’re thinking of asking something, and the answer is no.”

“That is the future khatun of the Dotharl. Some would even argue that she was khatun the moment she had been born and determined the fallen soul of their previous khagan,” Esenaij explained. “But look how she carries herself. Tall, proud…and already in possession of the staff of the previous khagan. The Steppe is lucky she is too young to fight.”

“I’m not picking you up,” Esenaij sighed. He had declined such silent requests since Bayarmaa told Nomin how he carried her from his wain to their ger. A pain, now that he had to deal with Nomin’s random ‘requests’ for being carried.

“You are both infuriating!” Esenaij growled, furrowing his brow.

“You’re impatient and you’re only mimicking me, not taking my advice to heart,” Esenaij replied. His response was immediate, but his tone was actually soft and genuine. Softer than Nomin had so often been used to with him.

15 Lines of Dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @ubejamjar

Tagging @ahollowgrave, @icehearts, @sealrock, @corsair-kovacs, @dragoon-mid-jump, @naejlas-axe

She did not know how long it took. By the time the girl made it to Reunion, dusk settled on the land. She was tired, she was hungry, sweat had clung to her, but most of all, she was happy. It showed in the smile that remained on her face since she started her journey. Happy… Happy she was alive. Happy that she broke her bonds. Happy that she made it at all. She gazed upon the bustling markets with a wide smile and tired eyes. It was time to fully embrace herself. Her victory. Her realization.

Taking in a breath, the girl yelled out with everything she had in that moment: “My name is Nomin! And I am worthy!”

“I…” Nomin started, taking a breath to both calm herself and give her a moment for her mind to formulate a coherent string of words. “Am I really the correct choice for this, Elder Seedseer? I…I just feel like maybe someone that is from Gridania or the Black Shroud as a whole may prove more…acceptable.”

Drawing her bow and pulling an arrow from her quiver, Nomin’s brow furrowed. Nocking her arrow, the auri called out to the other two: “I’ll fight alongside you, then. Let’s just hope they’re all bark and no bite…”

“Ith fial…” Nomin replied, shoving another delight in her mouth.

“What am I doing wrong!?” Nomin yelled, kicking her heels into the dirt and punching one of her fists into the ground next to her. The anger within her coalesced into a lump in her throat, and a tightening of her chest.

“Who’s broken now!?” Nomin bellowed, face contorted and eyes wide with fury.

“I wish only to see the Jhungid to victory so that we may triumph over the Kharlu. What use is a warrior that isn’t willing to be savage in their methods?”

“And what do you know of my skills, Ser Alberic?” The noisome ire and vitriol of summers past alongside the Jhungid stirred in Nomin’s chest and stomach as she took another sip from her mug. She hoped the warmth of it would wash away the feeling, but it only made it worse. Those memories bled with new ones as more words left her mouth.

“Were we still in Ishgard back then, I wouldn’t have entertained the very notion of telling you anything…” Nomin started. “But were Alphinaud here, he would likely be disappointed by whatever tension still remains between us. So you have him to thank as I keep him in my mind not to dismiss your question outright.”

“None of us have had time to just stop and mourn…” Nomin finally said, voice cracking slightly toward the end. She could feel tears threatening her, their sting at her eyes. She inhaled deeply, turning away from them and closing her eyes to attempt to slow the welling of any tears. “Haurchefant, Ysayle… By night’s good graces, we still have no idea where Minfilia is. Papalymo nor Yda… Why should I go to this private dinner when there is still much to figure out?”

“That…is a rather long story. One he would be better fit to tell you, actually,” Nomin replied, offering Krile a sheepish look while holding out her hand to take the auracite. “If you would, I know where to find him. Please.”

“Mm…” Nomin then furrowed her brow and steeled her gaze as she looked out toward the landscape. Though there were no towers nor beacons within sight, she had to remember that they were there, and that they were a threat. “With everything we’ve learned so far…we’ll need you and that lance of yours. So keep it and yourself sharpened.”

“Shut…up!” Nomin yelled at him. “The only one to die this day is…Nidhogg!”

“Would it not be wise to cut one’s losses and flee if they are clearly overwhelmed?” Nomin asked, doing everything within her power to keep her stance as neutral as possible. It was indicative of her tone, however, that there seemed to have been some values that she did not quite see eye-to-eye with.

“She is easily one of the most powerful spellcasters I have the honor of calling my friend.”

#tag game

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paintedscales · 6 days

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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.”

#rewritten and rereleased #yay for slowly making things fall better in line with one another

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