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paintedscales · 2 months

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010. Malqir

Stopped on their way back to the Sagahl Iloh thanks to the enthusiasm of Bayarmaa and Barghujin both, Nomin is introduced to the tribe and customs of the Malqir. During her time there, she gets to see a lot of what the Malqir practice with great importance to their tribe. The game is fascinating, sure! But then there are some other aspects that arise that give Nomin pause. From there, a needed pep talk is given.

Word Count: 4,496

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

It was only a day’s travel from the Sagahl Iloh when the van made its next stop due to making good time in their travel. The idea was less of Esenaij’s, and more of both Bayarmaa and Barghujin’s -- both who seemed excitable enough. What inspired the idea of stopping was the fact that there was a new site that had been erected in the time that they had been away till now. The colors that the ger and members bore made Nomin think of the Oronir momentarily before she realized the shade of yellow seemed darker -- leaning more toward an earthy orange.

More striking about the site, however, were the array of decorations that made up the site of the iloh they took a pause at. Khiimori flags were strung up -- something that Nomin thought were only reserved for things like burials or proving grounds like Bardam's Mettle.

“What tribe is that one?” Nomin asked, leaning over the railing of the wain, arms draped over the side as she looked over. The smells as they neared the iloh were delicious, and Nomin’s mouth watered almost painfully as she took in the scents. Whatever tribe it was, they must have been cooking up a veritable storm if the smells were so apparent even a good several yalms away still.

“That’s the Malqir,” Keuken replied. He pointed out the bonfire and the members who danced around it. “It’s not really our place, though if this is the place the Malqir have chosen for their new site, then they should be preparing for their annual kharaqiq tournaments. Certainly smells like it.”

Nomin’s face scrunched in confusion, and she straightened up. She looked over in Keuken’s direction. “What’s ‘kharaqiq’?”

“It’s kind of like shatar. Have you ever played that one?” Bayarmaa asked, hopping off the wain.

“Only the adults in the Tumet really ever played,” Nomin replied, thinking back on what she remembered of shatar. The rules were a bit too complex for her at the time, but she remembered liking the pieces and how they were carved in the shapes of khans or animals, painted in glossy black or white.

“Well, it’s kind of like that, except that the board is separated into three rings, biggest to smallest moving inward. The goal of the game is to capture all three territories -- the rings -- or if you can’t do that before the time is up, capture at least two,” Bayarmaa explained. “The game is a little above my level of understanding, but it's definitely the festival that we should at least see if we can partake in!”

“You know we have nothing to offer, right?” Esenaij asked, a sense of exasperation strained within his voice. “You certainly can't expect us to be able to walk right in with nothing we can give.”

“I bet life would be a lot easier for you if you weren't always stifled by your trader's brain!” Bayarmaa huffed, balling her hands into fists and placing them on her hips as she looked up at Esenaij. She puffed out her cheeks, and Esenaij only looked down at Bayarmaa with a look of mild annoyance as her tail flicked with irritation behind her.

“It would do you good to learn to have something to exchange just in case you can’t always rely on the good will of others,” Esenaij shot back.

Barghujin leaned on the outside of the wain next to Nomin, a small smirk tugging at their lips. They whispered to Nomin, “we should get started on our way over. The Malqir are usually pretty amicable toward spectators of their tournaments. Helps shake their nerves out, especially if they aspire to be chosen as khan or khatun. Besides, I bet Esenaij and Bayarmaa will keep up their squabbling until they see us leaving without them.”

The clear jest made Nomin giggle, and Barghujin grinned as they stood back up and held their hands out. Instead of hopping out of the back of the wain like usual, Nomin crawled over the side of the wain and leaped into Barghujin’s arms. With a swift and powerful swing, Barghujin brought Nomin to ride upon their shoulders as they started on their way toward the Malqir Iloh.

Briefly, Nomin and Barghujin were halted by some of the Malqir guardsmen. Much like their time with the Dotharl, they, as Sagahl, were permitted entry into the iloh grounds. Not long after them, Keuken and Daritai came along, and then both Bayarmaa and Esenaij. It was as Barghujin said when it came to the two of them: once they saw everyone else leaving without them, they were quick to wrap up their minor argument.

Looking at everything from her perch atop Barghujin’s shoulders made a smile spread wide across Nomin’s face as she gazed around at everything, and took in all the different things. The dancers around the bonfire, the musicians playing the morin khuur or engaging in khoomei to vocalize alongside the strings, the various smells of frying meats and bread, and most notably, the tables that were set up with neat rows of a checkerboard game divided into those aforementioned three rings, and even other tribe members that were enjoying visiting. Everything there was relatively new and exciting for Nomin.

“Do you have friends in the Malqir?” Nomin asked Barghujin, leaning forward and looking down at them. “It feels like the Sagahl have so many friends!”

Barghujin’s shoulders rumbled with gentle laughter, and they reaffirmed their hold on Nomin’s legs so she did not fall from them. “I have a couple. I don't know if they'll be participating in this year's kharaqiq tournament, though. None of them felt too particularly interested in claiming the title of leadership.”

“But they play?”

“Everyone in the Malqir is taught to play,” Barghujin started. “It's their way of life as a more pacifist tribe like us. They're great at things that involve planning ahead and strategic measures.”

“What we learn is also good for keeping track of our supplies and resources so that we know when to prepare or trade for more. When to hunt and gather to restock for the seasons as they come and go. Not to mention planning for proper migratory routes and avoiding unwanted trouble,” came a new voice. Barghujin turned with a grin while Nomin looked inquisitively in the new person's direction. She was just a little shorter than Barghujin, and her horns curved forward. Her deel draped loosely around her, and her hair was pulled back into braids.

“Sanchir!” Barghujin greeted her happily as they approached the Malqir tribesperson. “Long time no see! Missed you at the Naadam.”

“The current khan decided it best to keep moving through the time of the Naadam until we ended up here,” Sanchir said in response, a small shrug accompanying their words. Sanchir’s attention then went up to Nomin, who stared back at her inquisitively. “Though it seems to me you’ve been busy playing caretaker, Barghujin. Who is this little one? I daresay I don’t recognize this one from the Sagahl, though she bears your colors.”

Barghujin pat Nomin’s leg twice lightly and introduced her: “this is Nomin! She’s new to our tribe.”

Sanchir took a moment to consider this, a hand going to her chin. After a few seconds, her brow went up with the realization. She then looked up at Nomin with a small smile. “Ah…the timing seems right. A former child of the Tumet, then?”

Nomin nodded with a small ‘mhm…’ and her expression fell only slightly. She then re-composed herself and pointed in both Esenaij and Bayarmaa’s direction; “Esenaij and Bayarmaa are my new family! Esenaij brought me back from Reunion.”

“... Interesting…” Sanchir commented, her eyes flicking back and settling on the Sagahli siblings. She gave her attention back to Nomin. “Is this your first time getting to attend the Malqir's kharaqiq tournament? Outsiders aren't allowed to compete, of course, but you are allowed to at least watch and join in the festivities.”

Nodding, Nomin gave another ‘mhm’ in response to Sanchir. Barghujin then reached up and leaned down, getting Nomin settled back onto the ground. With her little tail wiggling inquisitively behind her, Nomin stayed close and looked around once more. She then looked at Sanchir and asked, “do you fry up boortsog for the festival?”

Daritai walked forward, placing his hand on Nomin’s head and ruffling her hair. He and Nomin had forged more of a friendship since he started teaching her how to hold and maintain a bow during their downtime. Since, he had become much more of an elder-sibling figure like Esenaij and Bayarmaa.

“Has food been the only thing on your mind since we’ve been here?” Daritai asked. It was not often that Nomin got to see him express amusement, but the smile that tugged at his lips was unmistakable. “Although, I guess we could use something to eat. Can't really sustain ourselves off of the desert's blessings and our dwindling rations alone.”

Approaching Nomin, Sanchir leaned down so that they were both at eye level. She smiled gently and then motioned toward the rest of the Iloh.

“I have a little brother that should be closer to the kharaqiq tables beyond the bonfire. He’s about your age, you might be able to find him and have him show you around if you’re interested,” Sanchir suggested. She then lowered her tone in a friendly manner, “he could also show you where the buffet is so you can sate your hunger.”

At that, Nomin’s tail flicked up.

The involuntary action did not go missed by Sanchir, either. She rose to her full height and drew her hands together as she gave a soft, amused chuckle.

“My little brother’s name is Arasen. He’s a good couple of ilms taller than you, and his eyes are striking. I don’t think you’ll be able to miss him. If you’re uncertain, his limbal rings glow brightly with a near-white color from yellow,” Sanchir explained. “Think you'd be up for finding him? Just tell him I asked you to find him.”

“Okay!” Nomin affirmed with a grin. She turned to start on her way as it seemed the Sagahl were wanting to catch up with Sanchir in some capacity. It was clear that they were well acquainted with one another, and as the Sagahl informed Sanchir of their travel out to the Dotharl Khaa to gift a boon for their win in the Naadam, Nomin found herself paying more attention to everything else.

Wandering further away from the older Sagahl and Sanchir, Nomin ventured into where more of the festivities were taking place. Her inquisitive expression gave way into bright excitement as she explored. When she neared the dancers around the bonfire, Nomin noted the woven structures that surrounded it in multitudes. Sticks and dried reeds were woven together to create shapes akin to creatures of the Steppe; tigers, horses, camels…

It then struck Nomin that each of the structures were reminiscent of the shatar pieces she had seen prior during her time with the Tumet. The realization made Nomin consider briefly just how important this game was to their way of life.

… If only she had been born to a tribe that valued games and gameplay. Perhaps that would have been fun!

A dancer maneuvered around Nomin, a giggle heard as they passed. Nomin looked after them, brought back to the fact that there were people celebrating and having fun. She started walking again, her gait quick as she looked for this Arasen boy, or the mentioned buffet. Whichever came first.

Nomin was certainly more keen on following her nose rather than going toward the rows of tables set up with the circular game boards. She noted the people that sat at the tables, their knees or rears nestled upon the cushions. Everyone looked a mix of either focused, self-assured, or gleeful. The sight was almost akin to what Nomin recalled of the warriors in the Tumet before they prepared for battle…

The growl in her stomach reminded Nomin to return to following her nose. Picking up the pace, she eventually saw some groups of people shuffling around a canopy that covered members of the Malqir that stewed, grilled, steamed, and fried foods. That was the place Nomin soon found herself jogging toward. It seemed she had no need to seek out Arasen after all!

Meandering and weaving through people, Nomin eventually met her goal: the Malqir cooks who were frying things like khuushur and boortsog. Her tail wiggled excitedly and impatiently behind her as she ran forward to eagerly ask for some. In addition to her little plate of boortsog, Nomin was given a small bowl of urum, and a small bowl of jam. Happily, she thanked the Malqir who fried the treats up for her, and she returned to wandering until she could sit close to those who were entrenched in playing kharaqiq between one another at the boards that were set out.

Idly, Nomin munched on the fried bread bits, crumbs falling on her deel and into her plate. She watched how others were playing kharaqiq, hoping to glean some kind of understanding of the game from those closest to her. As time went on, and both her boortsog and pairings eventually disappeared, Nomin was no closer to understanding the game than when she was first told how the game kind of worked.

“Obsidian is set to capture ivory's territories in just two more moves there. So long as obsidian doesn't get blocked into the silver ring to standstill,” a boy spoke. His voice startled Nomin into flipping her empty plate and bowls onto the ground with a small clatter. She left her seat, gathering up the mess of dishes before she furrowed her brow at this boy.

He looked a little sheepish before he took in Nomin's appearance fully. He kind of gave a ‘hmph’ at her, his eyes flicking between her face and her horns. It seemed he took better notice of the discoloration on her scales.

Crinkling her nose with some annoyance, Nomin was about to take a seat back where she was before she noted his eyes. She had almost forgotten what Sanchir said, and this boy seemed to fit the description she was given earlier.

“Are you Arasen?” Nomin asked.

“Huh?” The boy was taken aback by the question as he looked at Nomin with surprise. His near-white limbal rings were that much more prominent as a result. “Yeah, that's me. But who in the hells are you? No one from the Sagahl I know, that's for sure.”

Nomin rolled her eyes at Arasen's tone. She knew it well enough from her time with the Tumet. The tone of someone who thought of themselves too good to have been in the presence of someone not as blessed by Nhaama. However, she introduced herself and explained that she and the Sagahl were passing through, saving the fact that Sanchir told her to seek him out later for last.

“... Well, it seems evident that you didn't really do that last part…” Arasen replied. He still had a bit of a tone to his voice that indicated displeasure, but it was less obvious.

“Sanchir said you could show me where the buffet was, but since I already found where all the food was being prepared, yeah… I guess I didn't really want to burden you with the responsibility of having to hang out with me if I found everything I wanted,” Nomin replied. She used words she was used to hearing from the Tumet when it came to her. Especially since the disposition felt similar.

Arasen bit his tongue, his lips twitching back in a deepened frown. “My sister will be upset if she doesn't find us together, I imagine. Clearly she trusts me to watch over you.”

Nomin pursed her lips out in an exaggerated pout.

“I'm not a little child,” Nomin protested.

“Little enough! Your horns and tail haven't even fully developed yet!” Arasen steeled his stance on the matter. It seemed to Nomin that he must have valued his sister’s trust enough to tolerate this interaction that clearly was not to his taste.

Nomin sighed, turning her attention back toward the closest kharaqiq players. She then pointed at them -- rather, their board. She hesitated, but then finally asked, “can you tell me about kharaqiq at least? Bayarmaa told me it was like shatar, but…where I'm from, only those with a name play such games.”

For a moment, Arasen's face twisted into confusion over the tail end of Nomin's words.

“... I'm not even going to ask what that means…” Arasen muttered before shifting his attention toward the kharaqiq board. He stifled a sigh and then explained the rings and what they represented. Gold, silver, copper -- sometimes they would instead be represented by polished stone, ivory, or wood of differing colors. “Each of the rings is a territory. You and your opponent start with your territories, and the pieces do kind of move just like shatar pieces with some minor differences. The point is to capture as many of your opponent’s pieces while also working to capture the open territory -- ring, in this case.”

Pointing at the sand timer next to the players, Arasen directed Nomin’s attention toward it.

“Players have a quarter of a bell to finish the game. At least in tournaments like these ones,” Arasen continued. “If you're aware of the pieces and how they move, then it's a battle of wit and endurance with opponents that are just as familiar. But, if you're inexperienced -- like you are -- you'd probably lose in five moves or less.”

Nomin huffed, not exactly appreciating the insinuation. Even if Arasen was most likely correct in his statement.

The more that Arasen explained the game, however, the more that his words fell on deaf horns. He seemed to grow evermore elated as he talked about movement of pieces and the importance of them. For Nomin, however, the longer he spoke, the more all that information muddied together. It was becoming too much to really remember, thus she started to tune him out.

Watching the players, however, Nomin got a little bit of the gist. Ultimately, she became simply taken with just watching them and seeing the game progress.

Black won by the time the timer ran out, their pieces occupying two of the rings. The player controlling the obsidian pieces smiled to themselves before offering a polite bow to their opponent. Surprisingly to Nomin, both players were incredibly amicable toward one another. She would not have been too happy in defeat, at least that was what she thought to herself.

“What an exciting game that was!”

Oh. Right. Arasen was still there.

Looking over, Nomin pursed her lips slightly.

“How long is this tournament going on today?” Nomin asked.

“The first half has already ended,” Arasen replied. “We're in the second half. What you saw there should have been the third or fourth game since. Over the next couple of bells, there's probably going to be another dozen or so games. Since this is day one, everyone interested gets to play, and moving on to tomorrow's games comes down to how many matches you win.”

“Hm…” Nomin took a moment to think. She then looked at the now empty seats at the kharaqiq board they had been watching. “So then the person who lost during the match we just watched still has an opportunity to advance to the next round?”

“That's correct,” Arasen confirmed. He then shifted into a standing position, placing his hands on his hips. “Tomorrow's rules also change, but only slightly. Instead of having a bunch of matches throughout the day, tomorrow, everyone is only going to have three matches that more quickly narrows down the numbers. Today is more about fun and seeing if you qualify.”

“That's…pretty neat, actually,” Nomin admitted. She thought more about the culture that centered around playing a particular type of game. She supposed it made sense that there would be opportunities to face everyone and even learn something new from the other members of the tribe. The knowledge also made the amicable exchange at the end of the game much more respectable.

“Do you want to try playing a game?”

The question caught Nomin off guard. Looking in Arasen's direction, Nomin’s face scrunched up with contemplation to the idea. Would it have even been fair to have played a game she clearly had no experience in against someone who already had the clear upper hand?

“I don't know…” Nomin finally said after a moment. “I feel like…I'd lose right away.”

“I can go easy on you.”

Nomin's frown creased. She then shook her head in response. “I think I'm fine watching other people play for now. Thanks, though.”

“Alright,” Arasen did not sound too dejected by the rejection. “It's not good of us to force a game if the prospective opponent doesn't want to play. So…if you don't want to play, there's nothing I can do about that.”

It was a surprisingly mature response from someone whose first impression of Nomin was that of disdain. At least as far as Nomin knew and recognized.

In short time, however, Arasen offered to lead Nomin back to the food canopies -- if only to return the dishes she was granted use of. When they got back, Nomin was more than willing to go ahead and try more foods before she and Arasen eventually met back up with the other members of the Sagahl, and Arasen's elder sister, Sanchir. Nomin’s mouth had run with a sheen from the meats she had been eating alongside some mantuu, and she quickly ran the back of her sleeve along the bottom of her face to remove any of it.

“Have fun?” Bayarmaa asked, as the two approached. She offered a small smile, assuming that Nomin had been able to make yet another friend.

“I think the game is neat to watch. Arasen explained the game to me,” Nomin replied as she jogged up to meet with Bayarmaa and the others proper. She noticed that they were largely eating bread with jam, and stewed vegetables.

“Oh? How did that go?” Bayarmaa sipped some of the broth in her bowl after she asked her question.

Nomin shrugged in response; she had no strong feelings one way or another. Plus…she did not actually catch everything Arasen actually said. So, with that in mind, she replied, “I think I kind of get how the pieces move and how you're supposed to get the pieces in the rings. But I don't think I could play kharaqiq and have fun…”

Sanchir lifted a hand to her mouth, a rather amused laugh falling from her lips as her tail flicked upward a couple times. Nomin felt her cheeks prickle and warm, a slightly fluster arising in her.

“My apologies… That just seems to be a common sentiment shared among others outside our tribe. At least…I've heard it more times than not,” Sanchir said, explaining herself. “Of course, to us the game doesn't seem so difficult. I also believe anyone could still learn it. That said, would you mind a kharaqiq board of your own to bring back with you? I can get you some instructions written so you can read how to play back with your tribe.”

Nomin hummed in thought, eyes flicking in both Bayarmaa and then Esenaij’s directions before her attention went back toward Sanchir. It was as if she were asking permission to accept such a gift.

“It would do us well to have something that could help teach Nomin some more logical thinking and planning,” Esenaij spoke up, taking a hearty bite of the gambir he had topped with stewed popotoes. Bayarmaa seemed to share this sentiment as she nodded in agreement.

“We would be awful teachers when it comes to your game, but if you're providing instructors, we'll be glad to go over them and learn together!” Bayarmaa seemed more elated by the idea of getting to learn kharaqiq for herself. Her tail swayed to and fro as she rocked from side to side.

Nomin glanced between Esenaij and Bayarmaa, a smile spreading over her face as her eyes sparkled with the thought of being able to play more games with them outside of uichuur or khorol. She then looked up at Sanchir, who seemed to have grown a sheepish expression at both Bayarmaa and Esenaij's responses. When Sanchir finally looked back toward Nomin, she smiled with a soft sigh.

“Well then…I invite you to enjoy the festivities for the rest of your duration,” Sanchir started in response. “I'll spend the eve getting you your own kharaqiq set and instructions to go with it.”

With a polite bow, Sanchir left for presumably her family’s ger, Arasen giving a quick bow and a small word of ‘goodbye’ before swiftly following along after her. When they were out of hearing distance, Bayarmaa then giggled and looked at Nomin.

“You've been making so many friends since we've been on our journey!” Bayarmaa pointed out. “What's this young boy like? I didn't get to meet him too well like getting to talk with Arik or Holuikhan.”

Nomin briefly looked in the direction that Sanchir and Arasen disappeared off in, and then looked back at Bayarmaa. Her expression faltered and went back to a more neutral, straight-faced look as she shrugged.

“I don't really know if I'd call Arasen a friend like I would the other two…” Nomin replied truthfully. This caused Bayarmaa’s own expression to fall slightly.

“Well…I suppose we can't be friends with everyone. He didn't say anything mean to you, did he?” Bayarmaa inquired.

Nomin shook her head. Then she shrugged as she considered their interactions in the brief time they spent with one another.

“... I didn't like the way he spoke to me.” Nomin stated her overall thought plainly and flatly. She then looked back at Bayarmaa and walked over to sit next on a bench close to her. “…I guess… Don't you ever notice when people talk to you like they don't actually like you?”

Bayarmaa sat down next to Nomin.

“I notice…” Bayarmaa’s expression turned a bit sad. Though, she sighed and brought a pleasant look back to her face. “But…a lot of the time, I remembered the friends that do like me, and I found comfort in that. Because not everyone is going to like you. I don't think we'd have as many fights on the Steppe, or rivalries if we all got along…”

Bayarmaa reached over and pet Nomin’s head affectionately.

“But…it's okay to feel hurt by this fact, too…” Bayarmaa went on to say. “Just do your best to pick yourself back up and move forward. I'll help you where I can if you want me to.”

A smile slowly appeared on Nomin’s lips and she leaned against Bayarmaa’s arm.

“... Thanks, Bayarmaa,” Nomin replied. “That makes me feel better already.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv au ra #au ra #xaela headcanons #xaela malqir #xaela #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: barghujin sagahl #oc: daritai sagahl #oc: keuken sagahl #oc: sanchir malqir #oc: arasen malqir #NTK:Chronicles

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paintedscales · 6 months

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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

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paintedscales · 9 months

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AuRaugust 2023 - Day 14 - Laughter

"All those little moments... all those memories and moments where we smiled. Where we laughed. Those always reminded me that seeing the world with you... experiencing the world with you... has always been worth it.

"And yes... sometimes I'll cry until my lungs give out; till all my breath is expended. I'll experience sorrows and sadness that make me want to hide from the world. But... laughing can make me cry just as as hard sometimes. It can make my lungs give out, too.

"Just as I remember my sadness, I choose to remember the laughter more. Your laughter. Our laughter. The times we shared in mirth and merriment, when the rest of the world was not our problem."

Also thanks to @blossomblade for adding fish jumpscare for the set with Arik and Nomin. ; w ;;

#auraugust 2023 #ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #my screenshots #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: narantuyaa mol #oc: arik dotharl (noykin)#estinien varlineau #estinien #wolstinien #cinnamon ship

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paintedscales · 9 months

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Recreating Story Moments: Nomin Being Taken in By Esenaij and Bayarmaa

(Gonna dip my toes into doing these to get more of a feel of the characters I've been writing visually...)

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #my screenshots #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl

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paintedscales · 10 months

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009. Dataq

A storm brews over the Retreat, and there are worries on where to take refuge for the night as the Sagahli van finds themselves a little stranded out on the desert sands. Thanks to a keen eye, however, they do not have to travel far to find allies that are willing to take them in for the night.

Word Count: 5,135

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

Time among the Dotharl was much more palatable once Nomin was able to meet again with Arik. The two of them had sat together for their meals while other Dotharl were more than happy to give shows of strength in their celebrations that night. Whether it be through a contest of bökh, or even trading punches and kicks with one another, the Dotharl were more than happy to celebrate with raucous cheer and merriment in their own way. With their win in the Naadam, and even the year's khagan having his babe’s soul revealed, there were many reasons for the tribe to revel.

Of course, time spent with her new friend was short lived as Nomin suspected it would have been. Once the dawn of morning shed its light upon the golden sands of Nhaama’s Retreat, Esenaij had already been awake and took care of the wain and that upon it. Barghujin, Keuken, and Daritai were no slouches, either, as they ensured that their waterskins and extras were refilled with the elder's blessing. Everything went smoothly for them.

Nomin was wracked with disappointment as she trudged from the ger she and Bayarmaa were housed in for the night. A frown was set upon her lips. She hated waking so early, but more than that, she hated the idea that she would not have been allowed the chance to say a proper goodbye to Arik before they were well on their way back to the Sagahl Iloh. They were to go back before the Sagahl’s migration, which seemed to make Esenaij firm in his want to hurry along. Unfortunately for Nomin, the others that were part of the van agreed to this -- even Bayarmaa, much as she seemed to sympathize with Nomin.

“You'll get another chance to see your friend again, I'm sure,” Bayarmaa said, doing what she could to console the clearly upset Nomin. It was evident by Nomin’s silence and unwillingness to converse that she was saddened by the notion of not getting to have just a few more bells in the morning in order to have that moment of farewell.

In fact, Nomin even committed to bundling herself up and going back to sleep in the bed of the wain for a good portion of the rest of the morning. Her dreams were of little comfort, however. Within the scape of the dream she had, Nomin was brought back to her trek toward Reunion after her Tumeti trial.

The ropes slung over Nomin's shoulders felt heavy, as if they weighed her down more and more with each step she took. They snaked around her as if they intended to tie her back to the trunk of another dawn pine. Not only that, the visage of Reunion itself felt like it was not getting any closer.

No…it instead felt as if the settlement were growing more distant.

It was frustrating. Just as Nomin thought she was making progress in getting to Reunion, the lands shifted and stretched. Nomin only walked and walked, never reaching her destination, and only growing more frustrated as the ropes weighed heavy and even began to asphyxiate her.

Then the world shook as Nomin struggled and fought her binds. The land was suddenly bathed in darkness before the loud crack of thunder made her open her eyes in a start. She sat up in the wain, bringing her knuckles to her eyes to rub at them momentarily as she regained her bearings. When she looked around, she saw how the sky was blanketed in dark clouds that obscured the sun and shrouded the land with a heavy shadow of gray.

“Rain in the Retreat, huh… What rotten luck that it would appear now to hinder us,” Nomin overheard Daritai mention as she crawled over to one side of the wain. She blinked away the bleariness from her eyes and scanned the sandy lands.

“It’ll do us no good to get caught up in it,” Esenaij replied, a slight groan to his voice, indicating his annoyance at the fact. “Those clouds rolled in quick. It’s not ideal, but it may be best to head back north and west to the caves where the Uyagir house themselves. They would not be wont to turn us away. It’ll add another sun or two to our way back to the Sagahl, but we have little choice if we wish not to be kept stranded by the rain.”

There was a momentary pause.

“And all that besides, it will not do Nomin well to get caught in the rain, either. I would rather not have to deal with any ailments she gains from attempting to hastily see ourselves to our destination versus being smart about it,” Esenaij continued.

“Wait!” Bayarmaa exclaimed, standing at the top of a nearby dune. Her tail was arched upward with delight or a sense of accomplishment, perhaps both. She then turned to look at the rest of the van and pointed excitedly beyond. “The Dataq are not far from us and have built their encampment to weather the approaching rain! We won't have to travel bells just to get to where the Uyagir are!”

Barghujin let out a low whistle and then grinned.

“Nice eye! It's a shame you don't come often with us, Bayarmaa! I wonder how many obstacles we could have avoided having you along,” Barghujin chuckled. Despite the comment made in jest, Esenaij shot them a look that seemed to speak volumes on how he had not appreciated the connotations of what was said.

“Let us just meet with the Dataq and seek sanctuary with them,” Esenaij said with a small growl to his tone. “We have nothing to give them in turn, though. I hope they mind little of this situation.”

“Worried about the Dataq and not the Uyagir?” Keuken asked with a slight scoff.

“The Uyagir would definitely not have asked for anything in return. Such is their way of eternal punishment unto themselves. I certainly would have felt less guilty about asking if we might use their caves for shelter…” Esenaij attempted to reason.

Bayarmaa made her way down the dune swiftly, using the sand to slide down on occasion, giggling somewhat as she approached. When she neared, she wagged a finger at her brother. “Not so! We have springtime knowledge of what vegetation to expect on the Steppe and how to harvest it. We'll trade our knowledge for their shelter should they want something in return.”

“... If they even want our knowledge…” Daritai sighed. He pushed some strands of hair out from obscuring his face, a frown settled upon his lips. “As a tribe that never seems to stop unless necessary, the Dataqi people are no doubt the most knowledgeable about the Steppe in its entirety, and even that outside of it, wherever they choose to roam…”

“Oh, I'm sure there's something we could share…” Bayarmaa replied, putting her hands on her hips. “I don't think we need to worry about it too much.

“We’ll get nowhere just speaking about it,” Esenaij sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He adjusted the harness of the wain and started in the direction of where Bayarmaa saw the Dataqi encampment. “The sooner we manage to shelter ourselves, the better. Let us meet with our Dataqi brethren.”

Nomin did nothing but stay silent in the back, still disappointed. She thought to herself that if it were going to rain anyway, they should have asked the Dotharl if they could stay a day longer. Though, she laid back down in the wain, staring at the covering that was stretched over the bed.

Plip.

Plip plip plip.

Raindrops started falling, their slow drips becoming the rising chorus of rainfall blanketing the land. What Nomin recognized afterward was that Esenaij hastened his pace, and it seemed that Daritai and Keuken pushed the wain at either side to help speed up the process of pulling it, while Barghujin and Bayarmaa pushed from behind in order to ascend the dune and then slow it down on the descent. All the while, the rain thickened, wettening the sand and drenching everyone else.

By the time the van arrived at the Dataqi encampment, everyone that was not Nomin was soaked from head to toe. Nomin herself was instructed to stay in the back for the time being where she could stay dry from the pouring rain. All the while, she overheard Barghujin and Bayarmaa speaking with voices she didn't recognize; members of the Dataq, surely.

Their words were just distant background noise in the moment to Nomin as she lay there, staring idly up at the inky canopy that kept her shielded from the sun prior. Now it kept her shielded from the rain…

The cart moved again and Nomin sat up to look over the side of the wain. She saw ger that were all standing close together. There was something different about them -- something Nomin could not quite place her finger on. Not right away at any rate.

Esenaij had been directed to take the wain to where the horses and sheep were being sheltered. The smell of the livestock hit Nomin first as she brought the fabric of her robes up to cover her nose. It was unpleasant, and she was quick to grab her baras toy and get herself out of the vehicle once it entered the shelter of the pavilion.

Nomin saw Bayarmaa off in the distance close to one of the ger and was about to run off in her direction. Before Nomin could even leave the covered patch of land, she was grabbed by the arm by Esenaij.

“Not so fast…”

Nomin looked back at Esenaij, the bright green glow of his limbal rings cutting through the darkness down at her. Wind-aspected, Nomin was told during her first few suns among the Sagahl. Esenaij’s aether was aspected to wind that showed in the limbal rings he was given during his coming of age and that he never bothered to change.

Letting go of Nomin, Esenaij reached into one of the crates that held the van’s collective belongings, and he pulled out a thickly woven blanket made from linen.

“Stay close. I won't have you getting drenched and coming down with any ailments…” Esenaij said, throwing the blanket first around his shoulders before holding it up to prevent the rain from falling on Nomin and drenching him any further. He led her toward Bayarmaa, who had been accompanied by a woman Nomin did not recognize.

“This is where we'll be staying tonight,” Bayarmaa informed Nomin as they went into the ger. Esenaij since took off to a different one that he was to share with Barghujin, Keuken, and Daritai.

Looking around the ger, Nomin finally put her finger on it. The ger of the Dataqi were smaller than the Sagahli (or even the Tumeti) ger she was more used to. Small, and yet…there were several children in this ger. Like a babysitting area in Reunion. Along with said children were two adult members of the Dataq who regarded both she and Bayarmaa warmly.

Nomin and Bayarmaa learned that the two women that were stationed in this ger were both mothers -- not of all the children present, but mothers that were keen on babysitting and watching over the children while the storms raged on. When Nomin glanced around, she noticed that the children had a myriad of things to keep them occupied. Some children had puzzles, others had books, a couple of children had even been playing with wooden dolls on the opposite side of the ger.

“Hey! Holuikhan! Those girls’ horns and scales are weird, just like yours!” a boy yelled at another girl who seemed to sit away from the other kids. After he had spoken, some of the other Dataqi children giggled or laughed. This caused Nomin to furrow her brow while raising her hand to cover some of the discoloration she knew she had on her horns.

Bayarmaa stayed silent, but she placed a comforting hand on Nomin's back.

“Erketu! You leave those Sagahli girls alone! I will not have you creating enemies in this ger while we’re here!” one of the women scolded, getting up from her seated position. She had previously been sipping some tea while having a conversation with the other woman in the structure.

“It’s not my fault their scales are weird!” Erketu retorted.

“It’ll be your fault when I lay you across my knee. Keep speaking as you are, we’ll see what happens!” the mother went on, grabbing the boy by his horn and dragging him to the other side of the ger. “They are guests here while we wait out the storms. You will not make them feel unwelcome here and defile our standing with the Sagahl!”

After the woman sat Erketu on the other side of the ger, she approached both Nomin and Bayarmaa with an apologetic look on her face. She offered a respectful bow, more to Bayarmaa than to Nomin. Clearing her throat, she said, “my apologies for him. Children are wont to say whatever is on their mind… I hope that Erketu hasn't caused you too much distress.”

Bayarmaa shook her head, taking the outburst in stride.

“Fret not… Regardless of any commentary, my little sister and I appreciate the Dataq offering us respite in this dire weather,” Bayarmaa replied. She kept a hand on Nomin’s back before her attention went toward the girl that had been included in Erketu's outburst regarding Bayarmaa and Nomin. She moved her hand and squeezed Nomin’s shoulder gently, looking down at her. “Isn't that right?”

“... I guess…” Nomin slowly replied, frowning after glancing in Erketu's direction. Her response caused Bayarmaa to sigh before she removed her hand.

“Please, go and join the other children and play with them,” the Dataqi woman urged Nomin after looking down at her. She motioned toward the rest of the ger with an efforted smile upon her face, the children who overheard looking up with some curiosity before going back to what they were doing prior. Of course, Nomin could only glance from the woman to the other children in the ger.

Hanging from the center pole of the ger, two lanterns hung, casting warm light over everyone and everything. Nomin’s eyes adjusted well enough to the dim and warm lighting, and she looked back up at Bayarmaa before scanning the ger once more. She eventually saw that girl -- Holuikhan, Nomin remembered Erketu saying -- and walked toward her.

“... Hello, I'm Nomin!” Nomin greeted, holding her baras toy close. Though Nomin only had lamp light to see, the girl that sat there with an open book in her lap had much more noticeable patches of discoloration on her scales up close. The patches were nearly white with a purple fade between the black and white discoloration. Unlike Bayarmaa and Nomin’s striated markings, Holuikhan's patches were like blotches of spilled paint.

Nomin cleared her throat, glancing back at Bayarmaa when she got no response from Holuikhan. She then pointed at the book and attempted to strike up conversation again. She wanted to quell the pang of jealousy that hit her, for Nomin was still not versed too well in being able to read nor write.

“What are you reading?”

Holuikhan looked up finally at Nomin, a small frown creased upon her lips. She stared at Nomin for a long time before she finally looked back down at her book. Holuikhan slowly closed the book and looked at the title on the cover.

“It's called Maiden of the Sea of Blades…” Holuikhan eventually said in response. Her words were soft and delicate, and Nomin had to lean forward a bit to hear her.

“Is it good?” Nomin questioned.

A small nod was Holuikhan's response. A smile grew upon her lips, and then she asked with piqued interest, “would you like to read it with me? It's about a woman named Tomame Hagane from the Malaguld tribe who goes to the lands of Yanxia and discovers an ancient sword of her people! It’s one of the few stories we have about a Raen au ra taken in by the Malaguld on a quest to discover an ancient family heirloom of theirs!”

“Oh, I…” Nomin started, casting her eyes to the ground. The story already sounded amazing, but Nomin harbored some doubts about her capabilities. She swallowed after a moment, her voice quieting. “I can't really read that well… Bayarmaa…she's been teaching me to read and write. But there's a lot I still don't really know…”

Hearing her name, Bayarmaa walked over, weaving between other Dataqi children before she crouched down with a smile. She looked from Nomin to Holuikhan, and then down at the book. Casting her gaze back toward Nomin, she said to them, “I have something fun we could do.”

Both Nomin and Holuikhan looked at Bayarmaa inquisitively.

“Holuikhan, have you ever written or made up your own stories?” Bayarmaa asked, her warm expression remaining upon her face.

“Sometimes…” Holuikhan looked down at her book. “But I like reading the ones we get from Reunion or other traders more than making my own stories.”

“I see…” Bayarmaa brought a finger to her chin, a low hum of consideration falling from her lips. Her smile remained, even as her expression grew pensive. She then waved toward one of the two women overseeing the children, catching her attention. “Excuse me, might you have some vellum and writing supplies that we can use?”

“Of course, let me see what I can scrounge up,” the woman said, placing down her cup and walking toward one of the boxes. There were a few boxes that were in the ger for the kids specifically that had things like handcrafted toys and instruments for the children to play with, and books that Nomin could not read.

Nomin's change in demeanor was apparent. Her tail flicked upward and a large smile spread across her face. She held her baras toy close, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Are we going to draw, Bayarmaa?”

“I was thinking…if Holuikhan liked at all to make stories, we could draw some pictures of some of her favorite moments she's made,” Bayarmaa suggested.

“I don't know how to draw…” Holuikhan replied, her prior expression of interest deflating a little bit. “If you drew anything, you should draw stuff with Tomame in it, though! She's my favorite to read about.”

The woman that had been flagged by Bayarmaa retrieved some rough paper and some charcoal and offered them to both the Sagahli individuals after approaching them. Both Bayarmaa and Nomin gave thanks as they took up the materials and laid them out. Holuikhan watched them, eyes following the papers being laid out momentarily before she looked at Nomin as she took a seat to get more comfortable.

With the paper laid out, Nomin grabbed one of the sticks of charcoal. Already, she set to work to get some plants and shrubs she remembered being taught about etched upon the paper. Holuikhan leaned over, watching with intrigue as Nomin dragged and prodded the stick of charcoal across the sheet she had.

Meanwhile, Bayarmaa got herself settled more upon the ground and took up her own stick of charcoal to start drawing. Her drawings were a little more carefully planned, though unlike Nomin, she began sketching something that resembled more of an auri visage. When Holuikhan looked over at Bayarmaa and what she was working on, there was a long moment between the three of them that was filled with silence, the scratching of charcoal, and the heavy battering of rain against the ger.

Thunder cracked, making the land shake with its reverberations. Some of the kids gasped or gave a slight start in response, though Nomin only remained silent. Her heart raced, but the thunder was not as bad as the gedan attack or being startled by the Dotharl when she bore witness to their khatun seeing the soul of another. Their cheers and whooping still rang in her horns whenever she recalled being back there.

“Why are you just drawing plants?” Holuikhan asked, having shifted her attention back to Nomin’s drawings.

Nomin paused.

“I want to, um…” Nomin took a moment, frowning in thought. She struggled for words, attempting to find the phrase Bayarmaa taught her. Eventually, she shrugged it off and simply continued with: “I want to keep remembering what Bayarmaa taught me about plants, and I can do that by drawing them.”

“Commit them to memory,” Bayarmaa gently said in a helpful manner.

“Yes! That's what I was trying to say!” Nomin beamed, looking up at Bayarmaa and then looking at Holuikhan.

“Did you teach Nomin to draw, Miss Bayarmaa?” Holuikhan asked, glancing between both Nomin’s drawing and Bayarmaa’s drawing. Compared to Nomin’s shaky and eager depictions of bulbs and other plants, Bayarmaa’s drawing was taking the shape of an auri traveler who was accompanied by a horse.

“She was actually already pretty familiar with it,” Bayarmaa replied with a chuckle. She glanced at Nomin. “How did you start drawing, Nomin?”

“Drew in the dirt a lot…” Nomin's reply was to the point, her gaze going back down to her sheet and drawings. She paused again, her attention going to the book that was in Holuikhan's possession. Pointing to it, Nomin posited the idea, “that's your favorite story, right? How about you read it for us while we draw? If it's a good story, I want to know it, too!”

“Yeah!” Holuikhan said, beaming as her eyes brightened with excitement. She flipped the book all the way back to the start. “I’ll go slowly so I can also explain! I love this story.”

Holuikhan looked back at the drawings.

“Can you show me how to draw if I read the story?” Holuikhan asked.

Nomin giggled and nodded. “I can show you how to draw, sure!

Time with the Dataq continued on like that for Nomin and Bayarmaa both. Holuikhan read the story of Tomame, explaining some bits that Nomin asked about, and keeping her in suspense for other details. Though Nomin pouted at some of the secrets of the book, she simply continued to listen, sometimes stopping where she was in her doodling to look at and listen to what Holuikhan read. The book captivated Nomin enough to ask Bayarmaa if they could get a copy of the book from Reunion the next time they went.

What intrigued Nomin further was when Holuikhan showed her pictures painted into the book with a grin.

“There are books with drawings?” Nomin asked, surprised by the knowledge. She thought all they had were writings in them.

“You’ve never seen picture books?” Holuikhan asked. She pointed at the drawing on her current page with a smile. The image was of an auri woman, her horns and tail white as snow. “There are drawings in the book to help tell the story and sometimes help you get an idea of what the characters look like.”

Nomin took in the details as much as she could. Both she and Holuikhan exchanged interests, with more of the book having been read aloud as the night settled, and Nomin breaking out of her normal art subjects to attempt drawing Tomame. All until the two eventually wore themselves out to slumber, Bayarmaa and the other women helping to get them tucked in for the night.

When morning rolled around, the rains had come to an end. The lands were damp, though could easily be maneuvered.

Esenaij and the others were already set to work, getting the wain prepared. Meanwhile, many of the Dataq were quick to rise themselves, their efforts going toward dismantling their ger and getting their belongings loaded up upon their horses and their own wains that carried the materials. There were a good few Dataqi members who were already sitting in the saddles of their horses, but were tied or secured to them; these members were slumbering still yet sitting upon their steeds, their saddles having been outfitted with cushioned backs so that they could lean against them if needed.

“They sleep like that?” Nomin inquired as she got situated in the back of Esenaij’s wain. Part of her imagined that she could never sleep on the back of a horse -- especially if it was to keep moving across the Steppe. She imagined the horse’s gait from what she remembered with the Tumet. A gallop could be smooth, but a trot? Now that would have just been uncomfortable.

“It's part of how they ensure they can travel the Steppe unimpeded,” Daritai mentioned as he placed a secured jar of water down into the wain bed. Apparently it was a collection of rainwater the Dataq gathered and allowed for them to take with them should their waterskins run dry. Daritai then looked over at Nomin before continuing; “it's far from uncommon that the Dataq will continue to ride for days at a time. They really only stop for a couple bells for their horses and sheep to rest. Sometimes they stop to milk and shear their sheep.”

“They probably had their encampment set up bells before the storm actually hit yesterday, too,” Barghujin said after they drank deep of their waterskin. They then took a book from their satchel and handed it off to Nomin with a grin. “New education material for you. The Dataq have traveled all across the Steppe because of their way of life and have recorded their own findings. A lot of what they have of immense value is mostly in the weather and environmental differences to effectively prepare themselves should they need to hunker down because of natural hazards. They were happy enough trading us some recordings they had for our own on herbs and medicine.”

Nomin hummed in consideration to that. She never really thought about the rain nor the snow other than they were things that happened and things she, at this time, expected to have been sheltered from. She never thought about planning ahead. Not until she took up the proffered book and heard Barghujin’s words.

“Nomin!”

Nomin looked over the railing of the wain at the sound of her name. Holuikhan was running for the wain and the other Sagahl, a familiar book clutched to her chest along with some loose sheets of vellum. She eventually paused just a few fulms distance from the wain before continuing in a walk, her breathing somewhat labored by her run to get there.

“The Dataq are soon to ride across the Steppe again,” Holuikhan said, looking over her shoulder briefly and then looking back up at Nomin. She adjusted the book within her hold and then offered it to Nomin. The second book that was offered that morning already.

Taking the book gently, Nomin looked it over and gave a small gasp when she realized what book it was.

Maiden of the Sea of Blades.

“Are you sure, Holuikhan? Isn't this your favorite book?” Nomin asked, hesitation in fully accepting the gift evident by the way she held it gently against the railing. It was as if Nomin was waiting for Holuikhan to have second thoughts and snatch the book back into her possession.

Holuikhan nodded emphatically in response to Nomin’s inquiry, however.

“That's why I want you to have it! I've read the story of Tomame so many times, I could probably tell you the whole thing by heart!” Holuikhan proudly said. She then relaxed her shoulders, her expression softening. “But you've never read it before… Maybe it can be your favorite story, too. You know, since we didn’t get to finish it last night at all. Only scratched the surface! And…and maybe when we see each other again, we can talk about the book and draw together again.”

Nomin then pulled the book close. Protective. A warm smile spread over her face.

“Thank you, then. I’ll have Bayarmaa help me read it!”

Holuikhan then took the sheets of vellum and organized them, getting them all straightened out. She held them up, and Nomin saw that the sheets held out to her were some of hers and Bayarmaa’s drawings that were done over the course of the night prior.

“You left them in the ger…” Holuikhan informed Nomin. “I mean, the both of you did. I didn't think you'd want to leave without them.”

Just as Nomin was reaching for the sheets, Bayarmaa was walking toward them, Keuken at her side. Withdrawing her hand and then waving at Bayarmaa, Nomin smiled widely. In return, Bayarmaa was quick to give a gentle wave before her attention went to Holuikhan.

“Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave with your tribe?” Bayarmaa asked, somewhat surprised by Holuikhan's presence.

“Y-Yes!” Holuikhan turned toward Bayarmaa and offered to her instead the drawings. “I was just wanting to say goodbye and to give you both your drawings back before I left with my parents. Not to mention giving Nomin the book about Tomame!”

Bayarmaa took the drawings, a soft and mused scoff falling from her. Thumbing through the drawings, Bayarmaa then picked out one in particular. It was of a charcoal drawing she did of Tomame alongside her steed. She then handed it to Holuikhan.

“Keep this one. Since you enjoy Tomame so much, this one is for you,” Bayarmaa said.

“You mean it?” Holuikhan’s brow rose up as she tentatively took up the drawing.

“Of course. Keep it, it’s yours,” Bayarmaa reaffirmed. With the bed of the wain having been largely emptied since their time with the Dotharl, she went around to seat herself on the back. As the wain jostled and shifted, Esenaij sighed as he readjusted the harness onto his person.

Holuikhan held the drawing close, looking down at the image of Tomame fondly. Offering a small bow in thanks and respect, she then turned to leave with the rest of the Dataq. Not before pausing and looking back, expressing thanks for the drawing and for their time the night prior.

Once everyone was on the road on their respective ways, Nomin started prattling away about some parts of the story she remembered, mostly to Bayarmaa. The book was then taken and shown to Bayarmaa as well, Nomin looked up at her with excitement.

“Can we read this together after studies?” Nomin asked, eyes bright.

Laughing lightly, Bayarmaa took the book up in her hands and opened it. Smiling down at Nomin, she replied, “we can read it right now. It’ll be part of our studies since we’re still working on reading and writing along with all of our other things. How’s that sound?”

A surprised look gave way into further excitement, and Nomin nodded eagerly as she settled next to Bayarmaa. “I’d like that!”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #au ra #au ra xaela #xaela headcanons #xaela dataq #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: keuken sagahl #oc: barghujin sagahl #oc: daritai sagahl #oc: houlikhan dataq #oc: erketu dataq #NTK:Chronicles

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paintedscales · 11 months

Text

005. Oroq

Much is on the mind of Nomin as she recollects her time with Cotota. Her thoughts interfere with a lot of her studies as she attempts to learn what she can from Bayarmaa. After a pep talk and slowly getting back to her usual self, the Oroq show up on migration. Curious by the sleds of the Oroq, Nomin goes to investigate...much to the dismay of one of the Oroqi children.

Warnings: Bullying

Word Count: 5,260

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

Days came and went, and Nomin still had Cotota on her mind. It was hard to not think about her. From Cotota’s show of strength taking down her tiger, to the humiliation that her parents made her endure in order to apologize to the Sagahl. Her worry bled into her studying anything that Bayarmaa attempted to teach her in regards to vegetation that was expected within the next season.

“I don’t think there’s really any point in fretting over her too much…” Jajiradai said one day as he and Nomin sat next to the riverbank of the Rai Khaal. Nomin revealed her worries and how she hoped Cotota really was fine. “I hate the idea just as much as you that she’d be in trouble, but what the Qerel do versus what we do… I mean, I’m sure she’ll be fine after whatever punishment is thrown her way. I hope…”

The conversation did little to assuage Nomin’s worries and doubts overall. It culminated to a point where Bayarmaa sat across the table from Nomin at one point and confronted her about it.

"What's been bothering you?" Bayarmaa started, placing the things they were studying aside to show that they were no longer the focus for the time being. "You've been so distracted ever since you and Esenaij came back from the impromptu visit with the Qerel. Is everything alright?"

Nomin gave a shrug of her shoulders.

"I don't know…" Nomin admitted. "I guess… Maybe I wonder if that's what my mother and father would have thought of me if I went back to the Tumet Iloh."

"How would that be?" Bayarmaa asked, wanting some elaboration since she had not been there to witness nor hear everything that happened. She folded her arms over the table, however, and gave Nomin her undivided attention.

There was brief hesitance, though Nomin opened up about what she saw and heard to Bayarmaa. She made mention how it upset her how Cotota's parents said that she was a disappointment to the tribe and her parents. The more she mentioned, the more Nomin’s gaze went down to the table, her eyes locking onto the grooves of the wood grain as if they were solvable mazes. Though they were meant to distract her, they did little in the way to occupy her mind enough to prevent her from how frustrated and worried she still felt.

"Nomin…" Bayarmaa said, a soft sigh coming for her as she stood up and walked over. She placed a gentle, reassuring hand on Nomin's shoulder. "You're far from a disappointment. I might be ignorant still on the methods and ways of the Tumet, but that won't stop me from telling you that you are not a disappointment. There are children who run free now thanks to you if the story you shared is true. I could never ever think of your act the day you were brought into mine and Esenaij’s lives makes you a disappointment. If your parents would have thought otherwise if you went back to them and we knew them then ourselves? Why, I-I'd simply scoop you right up and take you right back here."

A halfhearted smile tugged at the corner of Nomin's lips in response to Bayarmaa’s encouragement. Nomin had been more than happy at the time to share her tale about her journey from the site of the dawn pines to Reunion. Though, after what she did at her trial in the first place, going back would have meant being cast out as an exile should the adults have been told of her act. Nomin only hoped that if the Tumeti children she freed went back that no one spoke a word that they were freed by someone else.

"I guess it's kind of silly to think about what they would say or think of me anyway, huh?" Nomin said with a bit of a chuckle. The longer Bayarmaa’s words had to stew within her mind, the more that Nomin became more self-reassured that her place -- for now -- was with both Bayarmaa and Esenaij.

From that point, Nomin started to grow slowly less worried as the days went on, and resumed her diligence in studying whatever Bayarmaa had for her, or whatever Esenaij begrudgingly brought to the table on days he could. Nomin was more than happy to take in the information taught to her, and even drew pictures of the fruits and vegetables on sheets of vellum traded to them from merchants from beyond the Steppe that traded openly at the markets of Reunion.

Before Nomin, on a table, were several different bulbs one day. Bayarmaa had gathered them from some of what the other Sagahl brought back from their own excursions. This day, she was being taught about bulbs that grew within the area that could be identified.

“This one is a dusk onion. You can tell by how the flowers turn red or purple, much like when the lands start to embrace the night. When the flowers reach deep shades of purple or red, that is when you know the bulbs are best for harvest. That is when it shall bring out the most flavor for our food,” Bayarmaa explained, pointing out the flowers that were still on its stalk. “Though they are small, they, like everything else here, are valuable.”

Bayarmaa grabbed a knife from her belt and cut the stalk from the onion. “See how I leave this much of the onion on the stalk? We shall be taking this with us on our excursion today to replant it so that this may yet bless us further with its bounty.”

“And this is where bittergrass comes from!” Nomin said, pointing at a different bulb whose stalks were more grass-like and thin. She had already drawn the dusk onion on her papers as best as she could. Drawings would have to suffice since Bayarmaa had also been in the process of teaching her how to read and write. It turned out that Nomin would have only been afforded that opportunity had she returned to the site of the Tumet Iloh to show she overcame her trial to the rest of the tribe.

“That’s right! Bittergrass is a little harder to tell whenever it is ready…at least when you look at it. We smell for when it is ready instead. If they have no smell to them, they’re not ready, but if they smell fragrant and somewhat sweet with sour notes, they are perfect to collect. Normally, we wouldn't harvest the bulb for this one, but I wanted to show it to you before we plant this where it will grow new bittergrass.” Bayarmaa smiled at Nomin’s grasp of being able to recognize some of the plants already. It seemed that Nomin at least paid attention to some horticultural facts and observations with the Tumet whenever afforded.

“Bayarmaa~” a sing-song voice called out from outside the ger entrance. Nomin looked up, recognizing the voice as belonging to Turakina from the time they went to Reunion together. “The Oroq are passing by on migration~”

At those words, Nomin noticed how Bayarmaa’s tail flicked up in delight, and saw how she raised a hand to straighten out her hair. A different kind of smile spread across her face, and Nomin could only tilt her head quizzically. She looked at the various bulbs on the table and then looked back up at Bayarmaa.

Was the lesson over for the day?

“I’ll be out shortly! Thank you, Turakina!” Bayarmaa called back. She straightened out her robes, and huffed gently. She looked down at Nomin and offered a sheepish smile.

“My apologies, Nomin. When the Oroq come past our site on migration, they usually stop to trade goods with us.” Bayarmaa seemed to have been hiding something as she spoke with Nomin. Though, she neglected to say anything more and started putting the bulbs away into a basket woven from reeds for later planting. Pausing, she looked back at Nomin, who resumed drawing on her vellum, and then had a momentary consideration.

“Why don’t you come greet the Oroq with us? Now that you no longer don the colors of the Tumet and are essentially Sagahli yourself, you should meet one of our closest allies! Maybe you can even make some friends among them.”

Nomin looked up at Bayarmaa and put down her charcoal. Standing, she wiped her hands on a piece of cloth that was sitting next to her for smudging her drawings and making some extra detail if she wanted. Once her hands were cleaned, she joined Bayarmaa’s side and traveled outside of the ger to see the Oroqi Xaela coming by on their horses. Behind those horses, however, were sleds that were made of reeds.

Nomin seemed impressed, though her expression went back to confusion. How did they get the sleds to move so smoothly? The other thing she wanted to know was how the Sagahl and the Oroq were close allies when it seemed their tribal customs would have been somewhat of a conflict of interest. She really wanted to know more. Especially since the sleds looked to have had Xaela women and children as well as food, supplies, and materials for building their new iloh. However, before Nomin could ask Bayarmaa anything, Bayarmaa had already been gone, running up to one of the Xaela men that dismounted his horse.

Jogging to catch up, Nomin stopped when she saw Bayarmaa tiptoe to meet and rub her horns with this new mystery Oroqi man.

Nomin scrunched up her face and seemed disgusted by the act. After all, adult Xaela who loved each other had normally engaged in such acts -- but to do it so openly seemed very weird and gross!

When the man took notice of Nomin staring up at him, however, he stood up straighter and looked away, his cheeks growing flush. He seemed surprised and embarrassed both, leaving Bayarmaa confused until she looked down and saw Nomin standing there. Quickly exchanging glances from Nomin to the Oroqi man, Bayarmaa herself seemed flustered for a moment.

Clearing her throat, Bayarmaa soon collected herself and placed a gentle hand on Nomin’s shoulder, coaxing her forward. Smiling at the Oroqi man, Bayarmaa introduced the two: “Kuzhuk, this is Nomin. She’s new to mine and Esenaij’s life. And Nomin, this is Kuzhuk of Oroq.”

Kuzhuk’s look of embarrassment had not faded away entirely, though he looked at Nomin and offered her a smile as he lifted his hand in greeting. His eyes flicked toward Bayarmaa momentarily, though he regarded Nomin in a friendly manner, “‘tis good to meet you, Nomin.”

Nomin could really only gaze up at the man and the colors he wore, burning it into her memory. The members of the Oroq wore a deep, dusty purple. She considered it akin to a nighttime shade of violet. With a sense of satisfaction at committing his appearance and tribe color to memory, Nomin smiled back up at him.

“It’s good to meet you, too!” Nomin finally said after an unintentional staring contest and a long moment of silence. The sudden outburst made the man -- Kuzhuk -- give a slight start before he started laughing lightly.

“So then, little Nomin, what have the Sagahl to trade this day before the Naadam?” Kuzhuk asked, attempting to make light banter in order to get to know Nomin more. The smile of amusement remained on his face as he awaited the answer.

Nomin looked up at Bayarmaa. She learned much about the Steppe and what was available, though she could only hope that what she was about to say was right. Going back to staring Kuzhuk straight in the eye, Nomin replied with: “we have dawn plums and fava beans. Bayarmaa and Esenaij taught me that you must wait till the plums are fully pink. That’s when they’re the sweetest! And the fava beans can be enjoyed however you want as long as they are still good!”

Bayarmaa smiled, a soft scoff of satisfaction falling from her lips as she lifted her hand to stroke Nomin’s head before looking back at Kuzhuk.

“I have been teaching her about bulbs these past couple days, that she may be ready to harvest them in the spring proper,” Bayarmaa spoke up.

Nomin, however, kept staring at Kuzhuk, who certainly took notice. He broke eye contact to turn his attention to Bayarmaa. He was about to speak before Nomin opened her mouth again and asked, “are you and Bayarmaa betrothed?”

There was a pause. A pregnant one at that.

Bayarmaa cleared her throat once more, removing her hand from Nomin’s person. Kuzhuk, meanwhile, had this taken aback expression upon his face, his cheeks reddening further than they had been prior. Both of them looked more sheepish than anything after a time.

Considering what Bayarmaa told Nomin about the Oroq being one of the Sagahl's closest allies, Nomin was really just connecting dots based on what she remembered and saw. Intertribal relationships were not unheard of, after all. In fact, some of them were even beneficial to maintain positive relationships with other tribes at times.

“Something like that…” Bayarmaa finally said. She glanced at Kuzhuk, a somewhat apologetic look upon her face. Glancing past him, however, she noticed some of the other children that were visiting and already excitedly getting to talk or play with some of the Sagahli children. Pointing them out to Nomin in hopes that it would distract her, Bayarmaa said: “Nomin… why don’t you go and introduce yourself to the other Oroqi children?”

“What will you be doing?” Nomin turned her quizzical stare up at Bayarmaa.

“I’ll be trading the goods I have collected with Kuzhuk before they resume their migration,” Bayarmaa replied. “Once we have everything, I'll show you what we do with the goods we receive from the Oroq.”

“Alright…” Nomin replied, feeling like there was a bit more to Bayarmaa and Kuzhuk’s reunion than they were willing to divulge. Regardless, Nomin dropped it and started walking toward the other Oroqi reed sleds, and where the children were getting to play with one another.

Curiosity as to how the sleds worked in ferrying people and supplies over the grasslands, however, compelled Nomin to approach one of the vacant ones. Exercising caution when it came to the horse still attached to its harness, Nomin neared the sled it led. Making sure the sled was truly bereft of any passengers, owners, and otherwise living people, Nomin then observed the sled more closely. She noted the shiny substance on the reeds that made up the vehicle and hummed softly in thought.

When Nomin touched the sled’s outside reeds, her hand returned mildly slick. Tilting her head, she wondered if this was the reason the sleds were able to glide across the Steppe with little to no problem. Out of sheer curiosity, she brought her hand to her nose, taking a sniff. Surprisingly, whatever the substance was, it smelled…well, it smelled delicious.

“What are you doing?” asked the annoyed voice of another child behind Nomin, his voice somewhat shrill to her horns. It caused her to jump and wipe her hand frantically on her deel. Turning, she saw the other child, his scales were a brilliant black, unlike Nomin’s. Of course that had to be the first thing she noticed.

“S-Sorry…” Nomin started, not necessarily knowing what she was apologizing for. “I just want to know how you can pull the sleds across the Steppe. I thought I could learn by looking.”

“And touching?” the boy drawled, clearly unimpressed as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Well…yeah. Sometimes you can learn by touching. Bayarmaa taught me that you can tell when dawn plums are going bad if their skin gives way under your fingertips,” Nomin reasoned. A proud smile spread across her lips as she got to share some of the knowledge she retained.

“Our sleds aren’t plums!” the boy hotly retorted. Though the boy held her attention, Nomin’s eyes flicked to the side to look past him. A woman wearing the Oroqi colors was fast approaching.

“Yul! Do not yell at the Sagahli girl!” the woman scolded, coming over and giving Nomin an apologetic look.

“She was touching our sled, mother!” Yul protested. “You and papa said we shouldn’t touch the sleds after we’ve coated them in horse fat. So strangers definitely shouldn’t be touching it!”

“It’s horse fat!” Nomin exclaimed, making both Yul and his mother give the young girl shared looks of bemusement. Though Nomin had a big smile on her face when she looked between both Yul and the Oroqi woman, she quickly realized that their looks meant that maybe she should explain herself. And so she continued: “I was…I was wondering how you get the sleds to move across the land. I see now!”

“Is this all you were curious about, young one?” the mother gently asked, a weary smile growing on her face. It seemed she was a little more forgiving than her son. In response, however, Nomin nodded to the woman’s inquiry.

“I see that perhaps you have missed being able to meet the Oroq during our migrations,” the woman said, an amused sigh leaving her nose. “Yes, we Oroq travel with sleds to carry our possessions and children from one place to another. Should a mother be heavy with child, or need moments to feed a newborn, she will also ride in them. In order to have them move across the lands, we take the fat from the horses we consume in our meals, and melt it down before dipping and soaking the reeds we use to make our sleds in them.”

“Yeah, and you shouldn’t touch them!” Yul squeezed in with an angry pout. He folded his arms over his chest as he gave Nomin a disdainful look.

“Yul…” his mother started before looking back at Nomin. Her smile faded before she went on to say, “though my son is correct. Should any touch the sleds, our hands remove the horse fat’s beneficial application. Should it be wiped off, our sleds will not move as well across the inner grasslands where we travel.”

“Oh…” Nomin frowned, reflecting on her actions now that she was told how it negatively affected the Oroq. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t know that. Thank you for telling me.”

The mother looked surprised when Nomin apologized and then thanked her.

“What manners! Your parents must be very proud of you,” the Oroqi woman complimented with a big smile. She then looked to her son, “I know you can also be a good boy, Yul…but maybe you can also take some pointers from this Sagahli girl!”

For a moment, Nomin’s lips pursed into a tight smile. She had not the heart to state that she no longer lived with them. Not that she necessarily wanted to relive any of her final moments as being considered a child of Tumet, either.

“Mother!” Yul gasped, gawking at his mother momentarily then glowering at Nomin. Though he did this, Nomin only met his gaze with a giggle. She was more just amused that his mother seemed to have liked her in some capacity.

“Oh! While I’m here…do you perhaps know what I might use to help aid with stomach pains?” the Oroqi mother asked. She was met with a shake of the head from Nomin.

“No…I haven’t learned how to look for or make remedies, yet. Just fruits and vegetables,” Nomin replied. She thought about it, and then pointed a finger in Bayarmaa’s direction. “Bayarmaa can help, though! She’s been teaching me what the Steppe’s bounties are and how to look for them when they’re ready!”

Yul’s mother thanked Nomin and reminded her not to touch the sleds before she departed in the direction of Bayarmaa and Kuzhuk’s location. Yul, meanwhile, still seemed to have been glaring down at Nomin as he continued to stand there, arms still folded over his chest. When Nomin looked back at him, she quirked her brow and tilted her head. Before long, she shrugged her shoulders and looked over to where the other children were collected.

As Nomin walked, she noticed that Yul was tailing her, that look still on his face, and his arms still folded over his chest. Focusing back on walking toward the others, she decided it was best to ignore him for now as she approached the children that she recognized. Jajiradai and Odchigen were the first that Nomin lifted a hand in greeting to.

“Glad to see you could join us, Nomin! We were just getting ready to play ail ger!” Odchigen happily chirped, grinning. He was holding several stones and sticks in his hand, and when Nomin looked past him at the other children, they were already working on setting up their stones to mark their ‘ger’ to play in. It was a fun enough activity to pass the time with, though admittedly, Nomin was not particularly feeling like she wanted to play in a pretend ger with pretend furniture at that moment. Not when…

“Careful asking this one to play ‘ail ger’ with everyone else!” Yul drawled. With her back still turned to him, Nomin rolled her eyes. All the while, Yul marched past her, nosed turned up into the air. “She might just put her hands on everything and ruin the layout of the ger.”

Frowning, Nomin placed her hands on her hips.

“Bah, don't be a sore, Yul!” one of the other Oroqi kids piped up, lifting a hand to hide their snickering. Some of the Oroqi kids chuckled as well. It seemed that this was a constant, and not something that started with Nomin.

“I'm not being a sore! I'm just warning you that she's a menace! She already put her hands all over the sleds,” Yul heatedly replied, balling his hands into fists and thrusting them down at his sides. His tail flicked with annoyance and he pointed an angry look at the other Oroq children.

Nomin tutted, furrowing her brow.

For a brief moment, Jajiradai let out a soft chuckle before he composed himself. He then looked in Nomin’s direction. He seemed a bit incredulous at best, though he asked her, “did you touch their sleds at all?”

“Just a little,” Nomin replied. “I wanted to know how the sleds moved across the grass. Yul’s mother told me, and that was that. It was just a little bit; on my fingertips.”

Nomin looked down at her aforementioned fingertips and noted the slight sheen of horse fat that still lingered. She would need to wash her hands properly later.

“Oh no! Whatever will we do, Yul? A little touch is going to stop all the sleds from carrying us across the Steppe now!” one of the Oroqi children chortled, lightly tossing some pulled up grass in his direction. In response, Yul gasped in annoyance before huffing and sitting down on the ground. He pulled his arms back so that they were folded over his chest as he hunched over in defiance.

Sighing with some sense of annoyance herself, Nomin walked forward to the other children and started helping them out. She was grateful that none of them really pointed out her scale discolorations as she straightened out some aspects of the ‘ger’ that were set up. As time went on, Nomin noticed one of the other Sagahli girls decorating the collection of stones and sticks she had with dried flowers, a gentle smile on her face.

Expressing delight in this as she ran over, Nomin asked the girl about the flowers and what types they were. Though the girl was surprised and even shied away a bit, she soon settled and composed herself. The other Sagahli girl was gentle with her words -- the way she spoke had a kind of airy softness to it as she conversed with Nomin.

Introductions were shared, and Nomin learned that this Sagahli girl’s name was Chotan. The more that they played together, the more that it was revealed that Chotan liked pressing flowers and utilizing methods she learned from her mother to preserve them -- which had been evident in the flower hairpin she wore upon her head of dark auburn. Still, it was nice to have connected with another child of the Sagahl. It allowed Nomin to forget Yul and his overall sour demeanor when it concerned her for the most part.

However, with her thoughts having flickered back to him, Nomin settled on her haunches and then looked over to where Yul still sat. Instead of having his arms folded over his chest, he had since pulled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as he watched the other kids play.

Alone.

Expelling a sigh as a part of her felt bad seeing him all by himself, Nomin pushed herself back up onto her feet. She looked down at Chotan and gave her a slightly wry smile. She then looked down at their ‘ger’ and tried to figure out what was what for the most part. With all the flowers that were scattered about, Nomin brought a hand to her chin before she leaned down and picked up a small wreath of white and orange flowers that Chotan wove together to make a kitchen decoration with.

“Do you mind if I have this for a bit?” Nomin asked, turning to look back at Chotan after she picked it up.

“Hm? I guess not…” Chotan brought a finger to her chin, eyes flicking from the wreath back up at Nomin. “What were you going to use it for?”

“An offering, I guess…”

“‘Offering’?” Chotan repeated the word, her expression growing contemplative.

“Mhm… Nothing bad, I promise.” Nomin did her best to sound reassuring, a smile growing on her lips as she looked at Chotan. Her annoyance had mostly faded, though part of her still did not want to approach Yul. Had she not seen how no one else asked him to play with them, though…well, she might not have had it in her mind to approach him.

“... Sure. Just bring it back. I’d like to use the flowers later.”

“I will!” Nomin chirped before she started walking back over to Yul. Her smile faded once she turned away from Chotan.

Swallowing back a sigh, Nomin neared Yul and looked down at him. She hesitated, but eventually offered the wreath of flowers with some caution. She hoped that Yul would not have taken the wreath and ripped it apart, or something of the like.

“What do you want?” Yul grumbled, furrowing his brow and looking away from Nomin.

The corner of Nomin’s lip tugged downward in a slight frown momentarily. Though Yul’s personality was certainly annoying, she felt no real animosity toward him. In fact, she felt more of the same kind of tug to him that she felt when she was compelled to help free the other Tumeti children that had no qualms to it.

“... I wanted to ask if you wanted to play with Chotan and I for ail ger…” Nomin said. She lifted the floral wreath to emphasize it. “Chotan’s been making a lot of neat little flower items for the ger we have. And, well, we have room for more people to play with us. Maybe you can tell us how you make sleds so that we have one for our ger!”

A moment of silence passed before Yul finally turned his head and looked up at Nomin. His brow was still slightly furrowed, and he still had an annoyed frown upon his face. Though, he let out a sigh and stood himself back up onto his feet. It was that moment that Nomin noticed that the two of them were relatively similar in height. Though she did not take time to think about it too long, she instead offered the wreath to Yul.

“Chotan would like to have this back…but you’re welcome to play with us…” Nomin said, inviting Yul along to their ‘ger.’

“... Fine…” Yul conceded, letting Nomin lead the way back. He did not take up the wreath, instead waving it off and making Nomin pull it back fully into her own possession. Regardless of the fact he did not want the wreath, Nomin turned and led the way back to Chotan and the ger layout she was cleaning up and rearranging flowers on.

Regarding Nomin kindly, Chotan smiled up at her, and then gave the same amount of consideration to Yul in turn.

“Welcome…” Chotan softly greeted.

“Yea, hello…” Yul stiffly said in response. He leaned forward and then side to side, looking at the layout. His face twisted into some manner of confusion all the while as he attempted to make heads or tails of what everything was meant to represent. When he voiced his questions finally, Nomin allowed Chotan to take the reins in gently explaining their ail ger.

As time went on, and Chotan was allowed to explain things in her own way, Nomin noticed how Yul’s disposition started to soften and become more amicable. The more that they played with some aspects of their ger, the more that Yul even regarded Nomin in an eager and nice fashion as they shared some of the play-chores and responsibilities of taking care of their play area.

Then, eventually, night started extending its grip upon the land as the skies went from blue to being bathed in a warm pink and orange. More than that, the Oroq parents had come to collect their children, telling them that while they were welcome within the Sagahl Iloh, they had to still adhere to their own chores and duties while they were there.

“I kind of wanted to keep playing…” Yul muttered, sighing to himself.

“There’s always tomorrow,” Chotan said. During the course of their activities with one another, she had made several more flower wreaths. She gave one to Nomin already, having woven one of orange and golden flowers that rested upon her head. Now, she was offering Yul his own flower wreath, made up of purple and red flowers. “In the meantime, you can have this. If you like it, I can make you some that won’t wilt.”

Yul looked at Chotan, a little dumbfounded before he carefully and gingerly took the wreath from her. There was a pause before he finally said, “thank you. I…wouldn’t mind some that didn’t wilt…”

Nomin offered a grin. She was pleased about how the events played out overall for the day. She got to learn about the Oroq and their sleds, and she got to make friends with Chotan and maybe even Yul! Even if neither of them really wanted to admit it at all.

“Can I get some that don’t wilt, too?” Nomin asked, skipping over to Chotan.

“Of course!” Chotan responded, giggling softly. “I love making them. I’ll be glad to have something made for all of us as friends.”

“‘Friends’...?” Yul cocked his head to the side, humming lowly to himself in thought. He then gave them a rueful smile. “You consider me a…a friend?”

“Why not?” Chotan started in response, looking toward Yul quizzically. “I had a lot of fun playing with you and Nomin today.”

Yul’s mouth fell open in wanting to say something, but he quickly closed it. He then looked down at the flower wreath in his hand. He nodded a couple of times, his gaze locked upon the wreath of flowers. “Y-yea…yea! I had fun, too. Let’s play more tomorrow!”

“Of course!” Nomin happily replied.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #au ra #au ra xaela #xaela oroq #xaela headcanons #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: jajiradai sagahl #oc: odchigen sagahl #oc: cotota qerel #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: kuzhuk oroq #oc: yul oroq #oc: chotan sagahl #NTK:Chronicles #writing nomin's youth really is just practice for me to write children

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paintedscales · 7 months

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FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 21

Prompt :: Grave Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Bayarmaa Sagahl, Narantuyaa Mol, Ankhbayar Oroq Word Count :: 2,149

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

Nomin noted where the Mol Iloh was located for the season, if only to return on her own terms. With the Naadam and the expectation to participate within it hanging over her head, Nomin had elected to travel the lands. She had been hoping for something, anything, that would have allowed her to calm her nerves. For being back upon the Steppe -- and so openly without painting her scales black -- had rattled her with the prospect of crossing paths with any Jhungid warriors.

She had foolishly thought herself rid of the fear and unease that her past had riddled her with. Now that Nomin had been back on the Steppe, however…she realized just how unsettled she was. More so with the idea that Hien had so boldly proclaimed that he would return to Doma at the head of an army of Xaela.

The very notion made Nomin have to hold back her laugh of disbelief. Surely, the Xaela would listen to the one named khaghan at the end of the Naadam…but that was only if a win was secured. With the Mol…well, Nomin had her reservations.

At least she had been reunited with Horse again. Nomin had never imagined that she would have seen her old friend again -- not to mention the very fact that he whinnied and nickered happily, all while throwing his head up and down as he trotted up to her when he first saw her.

Now, however, Nomin simply rode upon his back, never really giving him a tell or command for what direction to go. No, merely, she trusted him to guide them somewhere.

Anywhere.

As it happened, anywhere had brought Nomin to where the Ceol Aen stretched out, its rocky spires reaching skyward. The wind did not blow today for them to sing their ancient songs of the land. Instead, the land was bathed in a hush, Horse’s footsteps the only things to break the silence.

How long had it been since she had visited the Ceol Aen? The last time she remembered being there, she had been with Chotan and Arik. Yet the land was ever as familiar as she remembered it.

Horse had come to a rather abrupt halt, causing Nomin to look up and bring her mind back down to the present. When Horse had refused to walk forward and even reaffirmed his hoof upon the land, Nomin squinted to look around themselves, a hand brought up to shield her eyes from the sun’s shine as she did. It took a moment, but eventually Nomin’s attention had come to rest on a trio of figures in the distance.

One such figure wore robes of red -- robes of the Mol. And the other…the other had darker robes that were vaguely blue in the light. Nomin recognized that color, for how could she not. The other person that had been there was a member of the Sagahl. With her, a young child in lighter blue children’s colors of the Sagahl.

«It’s alright, my friend…just some of the land’s people visiting. It’s not uncommon…» Nomin softly said, bringing a hand to stroke it across Horse’s neck.

Keeping her head down, Nomin chose to keep riding quietly once Horse had been coaxed into walking forward. Surely she would likely meet the Mol individual at some point. Though the Sagahli family that had been there? Nomin would have rather braved the deepest caverns known to the Bairon. And then some, if she were being honest with herself. Anything that would have made it so that she avoided confronting a tribe she saw as family.

The closer she got to the trio, however, the Echo that Nomin possessed made her pull Horse to a freeze. Her Echo had revealed a sense of familiarity in the presences close by. Surely as Nomin looked to observe the others more closely, the myriad feelings of fear, relief, shock, and joy coursed through her body, leaving her mouth slightly agape.

Though it was not as if Nomin herself had gone unnoticed, either. It seemed that everyone had also taken note of her. Especially the Sagahli woman who bore brilliant emerald green striations upon her horns and tail. Though it were not as if the Mol woman there were not of note, either… No, Nomin recognized the sheep-like curl to her horns, and the pink ribbons she still yet tied to her tail.

«... Nomin?» the Sagahli woman asked, surprise on her face as she stared up at Nomin wide-eyed.

«Bayarmaa…and Narantuyaa besides…» Nomin quietly said, the words leaving her lips before she consciously decided to start speaking.

«I thought you dead! You’re not a vision playing tricks on me, are you?» Bayarmaa breathed, reaching down and taking hold of the little one’s hand in her own.

Narantuyaa seemed less surprised, though Nomin could only hazard a guess as to why. As it was, Narantuyaa had a knowing smile upon her lips as she watched the scene unfold before her.

«No, I yet live. Sure and true, I yet live…» Nomin affirmed. She had not realized how hard she was gripping Horse’s reins, her knuckles had grown pale with the force. Swallowing her emotions, Nomin had trepidatiously dismounted from Horse’s back. She had remembered Bayarmaa being so much taller than her all those years ago, but now Nomin gazed down at her elder sister.

«… Look at you…» Bayarmaa shakily said, slowly letting go of the toddler’s hand and walking toward Nomin. She placed her hands on either side of Nomin’s face and brought her close to touch foreheads. «I’m so glad to see you alive and well, little sister.»

«And I you…would that it were a more auspicious occasion…» Nomin quietly replied.

«… Indeed…» Bayarmaa withdrew her hands and then looked back behind herself.

There had been a series of markers around an earthen mound indicating the gravesite, and Nomin felt her heart sink like a stone into her stomach. She had seen such structures before -- khirigsuur. She could only imagine the connotation of it being there, as well as the visitation of Bayarmaa specifically.

«Is…that…?» Nomin started.

«Esenaij. Mother and father, too. Though…you never did get a chance to meet them…» Bayarmaa confirmed Nomin’s suspicions. She motioned toward the burial site, and Nomin stepped forward before kneeling on the ground and bowing deeply.

Nomin’s horns barely kissed the ground before she slowly rose back up. She looked upon the mound, all the tears she had shed before no longer willing to be shed again. After all, Nomin had mourned and grieved Esenaij plenty in the past. He was her fire that allowed her to press on and rise against the Jhungid. She believed that he kept her ever going. Gazing upon the grave he was given still stirred some unresolved feelings of lingering remorse and hatred, however…even if she believed herself past it.

«I’m sorry…» Nomin softly spoke toward the grave. «That I didn’t do as you asked. And that I’m finally able to say it now.»

Turning to look at Bayarmaa, Nomin’s gaze lingered on the little boy who had been silently watching her this whole time. She finally looked up at her older sister and asked, «… How many summers has it been?»

In part, Nomin had lost track of how old she had gotten…and another part, she wondered how long it had been since she had left the Steppe.

«Ten and four.»

‘.... Has it been that long? It truly sometimes feels like everything happened so much more recently than that… That makes me… twenty and five summers…’ Nomin thought to herself. She then looked back at the boy. «He’s yours?»

At the question, Bayarmaa looked down at the toddler and placed her hand upon his head with a warm expression.

«He is. His name is Ankhbayar…» She then motioned for him to approach Nomin, though he held fast to her leg. «Don’t you want to say hello to your aunt?»

While Bayarmaa was gentle in her urging, Nomin scoffed lightly and said to her, «don’t worry about it. It may be for the best that he doesn't get to know me or become attached. I…I don’t intend to stay long here on the Steppe if I can help it.»

At this, Narantuyaa looked up, and Bayarmaa frowned in response.

«What do you mean?» Bayarmaa asked. Her brow had knit together in a concerned furrow. «All this time away, and you can’t spare any time to spend back with us? You know you’re always welcome among the Sagahl. Even if Turakina or Chotan told us your reasons, what you did for our people will always make you welcome.»

«It’s not that, I…» Nomin was not quite sure how to word what was on her mind. Closing her eyes, she pushed herself up into a standing position. «I come as aid from the Eorzean Alliance from the Far West. I am to aid and assist Doma reclaiming itself. Originally, I was here to meet with and bring back Lord Hien, but he is set upon participating in the Naadam and succeeding in it to put himself at the head of a Xaela army to combat the Garleans. He has already made himself a friend of the Mol -- or at least one by the name of Cirina.»

«So you’re the one I’m to lead back to the Mol?» Narantuyaa finally spoke. She could hardly hide the amusement on her face, though did her best all things considered. «Forgive me, I didn’t want to interrupt your reunion, I just…it is quite amusing that I should be the one to guide you back as the Gods bade. They asked me wait here for a Xaela of the Far West.»

«If that is the way, then so be it…» Nomin replied, not necessarily wanting to go over semantics and why that felt wrong to her. Though, even if she held the self-proclaimed title of ‘tal Kheeriin’ -- ‘of the Steppe’ -- she supposed that having found her place among the Scions as the Warrior of Light, and helping those of Eorzea might as well have made her a resident of the Far West at this rate.

«So then…» Bayarmaa eventually relented in simply picking her son up into her arms before pointing her gaze back toward Nomin. «You would participate in the Naadam as well?»

«It’s not ideal, but yes.»

Bayarmaa’s gaze hardened. «Then the Sagahl should stand with you.»

Nomin’s brow shot up as she waved her hands in denial of the mere prospect. «I would not wish for the Sagahl to fight for this cause. There is no reason to entertain the whims of the Far West, nor is there a reason to fight for Doma when the Steppe has remained untouched.»

«If the Garlean threat is a danger to warrant this determined quest for aid, what's to stop the metal men from crossing into the Steppe and causing more bloodshed among our people? I would not wish to stand for it.» Bayarmaa’s expression remained steeled. «The future that the Garleans intend to bring with them is not one for my son, most of all.»

Nomin understood, for it was how she felt as well. The entire Steppe being subjugated by the Garleans from what she had seen in Eorzea was similar to how the Jhungid and the Kharlu treated those they forced into their fold. It was similar to how the Avagnar were expected to live among the Adarkim.

A life like that was no way to live.

«… Fine. Then just…allow me to collect my thoughts and sense of self before I come back to the Sagahl Iloh with you,» Nomin requested. She then looked toward Narantuyaa. «I don’t imagine the Gods would snub a detour?»

«I am merely to guide you back to the Mol Iloh when you’re ready, my friend,» Narantuyaa replied with a gentle smile.

Closing her eyes, Nomin let out a low sigh. Looking back at Bayarmaa she finally said, «let us waste no more time, then. I’ll collect myself on the way.»

Bayarmaa could not hide the look of relief that washed over her face. «Very well. Oh, and once we’re there, I have something for you.»

Nomin quirked a brow. She was not quite sure what Bayarmaa could have possibly had, but she supposed she would find out in due time. Paying one last form of respect before the site where Esenaij had been buried, she spoke in the Eorzean tongue she had come to adopt on a more frequent basis: “… I don’t know if I’m doing right by you by doing any of this. You have my word, though, that I will do everything to keep Bayarmaa and the other Sagahl as safe as I can.”

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: ankhbayar oroq #oc: narantuyaa mol

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paintedscales · 10 months

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a01 :: Family

A Soft™ Fic Prompt Meme

Wasn't sure if I wanted to focus on Nomin's past, or her future. So I found a way to combine them in a sense. Getting to explore more of her relationship with her sister, and some stuff shortly after the birth of her girls.

Dealing with a small bit of postpartum stuff. Nothing too graphic, minor blood mentions. Mostly fatigue, soreness, and itchiness mentioned and dealt with.

Word Count: 1,801

“You’re a lot less squeamish than I would have imagined,” spoke an auri woman who had been helping to wash and dispose of used, bloodied cloth. Her hair was a deep violet with some softer highlights that bordered on pink -- a complementary contrast to her emerald green skin. Like Nomin, her inky black scales were speckled with color, though hers were of an emerald green nature rather than a lapis blue.

“... I have seen my fair share of blood, Lady Bayarmaa,” Estinien respectfully replied, his tone indifferent as he cinched a burlap sack of refuse and set it off to the side for burning later. “Besides, ‘twould not be fair to Nomin nor your good self were I to leave these matters tended solely by you. It gladdens me that you and yours were able to come by on short notice, though. Ignorant as I am of the nature that comes after childbirth. By the Fury…even by the events that preceded it…”

A soft laugh fell from Bayarmaa’s lips as she cinched up her own burlap sack and set it aside. She walked toward the well pump, drawing water to wash her hands with soap. After she took care of herself, she then offered the pail and soap to Estinien. With some consideration, she replied, “even with my own child, there is much and more I’ve yet to learn or develop. I wouldn’t be where I am without the help of the other Sagahl. Nor would I be here without the aid and support of my husband, Kuzhuk.”

Bayarmaa raised her head to smile at Estinien, watching momentarily as he took to washing up. She then took in the sights of the immediate area, hands going to rest at her hips. She admired the flowers that were planted about the area, not to mention how fresh the air smelled and felt.

“You tell me that you’re gladdened by mine and my husband’s arrival, yet it is I that is gladdened to know my little sister has someone who cares for her in these moments of tiredness, ache, and restlessness.” Bayarmaa turned her relieved expression in Estinien’s direction. “Truly… I worried overmuch for her when I heard she left to travel the Steppe on her own from the Malaguld and the Sagahl that returned to us from the Jhungid. Many summers had come and gone, and often I wondered if I had lost yet another in some fashion.”

Estinien stayed silent for a time, only momentarily casting a lingering sidelong glance at Bayarmaa. She was one of his and Nomin’s daughter’s namesakes after all. Though he had not truly gotten a proper chance to meet her or speak with her at length, it seemed evident that the sisterly bond that both Nomin and Bayarmaa shared ran deep.

The barest twinge of envy tugged at him; for Estinien wondered if he and Hamignant would have shared a bond similar in that brief moment.

“Nomin spoke much of her time on the Steppe…once we had finally put our differences aside, that is…” Estinien admitted. “I think not a day went by that you and the family she made on the Steppe were not on her mind in what I remember of her back then.”

Estinien then looked back at Bayarmaa. “Though, as she told it, she said that the two of you enjoyed a reunion before your traditional Naadam. I expressed it poorly at the time, though I was glad for her to have that closure and reconnection.”

There was a moment’s consideration of whether or not Estinien wanted to bring up what he remembered of Nomin at the time. During most conversations, he would not have thought twice about it, but he kept his mouth shut for the time being, a silence blanketing the air around them. Perhaps that past would have been better left untouched for now.

Silence would have lingered between the two if the pause between both Bayarmaa and Estinien had not been cut short by a toddler running down the pathway from the cabin with a grin on his face and a laugh upon his lips. He came up and threw his body into Bayarmaa’s leg, clutching onto her with that same big grin on his face. The sight would have brought a gentle smile upon Estinien’s lips were it not for the next words out of the child’s mouth.

“Mama! Papa says that you should come back up inside! He said to come get you,” the boy of five summers had said, giggling. At the mention, Estinien looked back up toward the cabin and had been hasty about making his way back while Bayarmaa took a moment to acknowledge her son and give him some positive reinforcement before following suit. The only hope was that the situation was not serious.

Given that a child was sent to retrieve them, the hope was there.

The two were quick about making their way to the bedroom where Nomin had been resting more often than not since giving birth. It seemed that she was in between states of sleep and awake. As it was, Bayarmaa’s husband, Kuzhuk, had taken care of getting the twins changed and placed within their bassinets. When both Estinien and Bayarmaa arrived, he offered them a sheepish look.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to have Ankhbayar alarm you both. I didn’t think it too serious,” Kuzhuk said. He glanced between both Bayarmaa and Estinien. He then addressed Estinien more directly: “Simply, Nomin has been scratching at her scales and vaguely complaining of aches in the moments she has been awake. I figured it would have been best to get my wife to take care of any discomforts.”

“Ah…well, I’m here,” Bayarmaa said, going over and grabbing the chair that had been brought into the bedroom for her to aid Nomin from the bedside if it was not too intensive. She waved a hand at Estinien briefly as her tone became a little more authoritative, “Estinien…where exactly does Nomin keep her scale oils? I’d like you to bring them to me if you would. And once you have them, you’ll help with the other side. Kuzhuk, if you would allow us privacy?”

“Of course, my Moon,” Kuzhuk replied with a shallow nod. He departed the room, playfully shooing and then chasing the young toddler that had been peeking his head in curiously to watch or eavesdrop.

Once the door had been closed, that was when Estinien had set to making his way into the bath chamber, fiddling with some of the woven boxes that contained anything that would have been related. Eventually, he returned with two bottles and a small tub of the oils that Bayarmaa requested. She wordlessly grabbed them and looked them over, reading the labels.

“Oh, thank the Dusk Mother… She actually labels things in Old Auri and Eorzean…” Bayarmaa sighed in relief, taking the larger bottle and uncapping it.

“Dusk Mother…has nothing to do with it…” Nomin tiredly replied, lifting a hand to scratch at her scales somewhat before her sister slapped her hand away. It seemed she was in a state of lucidity. For how long, however, was left for time to tell.

“Oh, quiet…” Bayarmaa said in jest, giving Nomin a slight smirk as she then grabbed the younger auri’s arm and gently started applying some of the oils around the edges of her scales and skin. She handed the bottle to Estinien and instructed him to start on the other side. All the while, she affectionately scolded her younger sister: “you have to remember not to scratch so much. It shan’t benefit you any if you’re to loosen your scales.”

A small ‘hmph’ came from Nomin as she shimmied herself to a more seated position. Both her arms at this point had been taken up by both her sister and her husband. Though part of her wished to use her arms, she could not deny how their ministrations felt soothing. Both in the fact that it alleviated her itches, and put some of her aches to rest.

“How have you been feeling? No shivers or chills since yesterday?” Bayarmaa asked, her tone going more serious as she worked the oils in.

Nomin gave a slight groan of protest, as she did not want to answer too many questions. However, she gave a sigh and sunk back into her pillows. Taking a moment, glancing at Estinien and then looking back in Bayarmaa’s direction, Nomin replied with, “... just tired and sore mostly…. I feel like even my worst battles haven’t worn me out so…. No shivers since yesterday, though.”

“I suppose that is rather telling,” Bayarmaa considered. She sighed silently in relief knowing that Nomin had not been experiencing any chills past the initial moments after delivery.

“... I’m happy, at least. Even if sometimes it might not seem like it…” Nomin said, closing her eyes and smiling to herself. She soaked in the feeling of her scales and skin being cared for, though she had enough clarity of mind in that moment to have been grateful for all that was around her.

“I’m glad to hear that.” A small smile found its way onto Bayarmaa’s face. “What has you happy?”

“I’m just happy to have my family here…” Nomin tiredly said. “Genuinely, I mean it. Would that I were more able to get up and show you, Kuzhuk, and Ankhbayar around the island without it being too stressful to my body.”

“Worry not,” Estinien spoke up. He had, likewise to Bayarmaa, moved up along Nomin’s arm to help apply and rub in more of her scale oil. “We shall have more than enough time to take care of such things at a later time. What matters most is making sure you and the girls are taken care of before any sightseeing or touring can even be considered.”

“Agreed. I’m here not just as your sister, but to also help you with everything that comes after giving birth,” Bayarmaa reassured Nomin. “Family is family, Nomin. And we’re here for you in this new chapter of your life, not to have a vacation nor venture into the area.”

The smile on Nomin’s face grew for a moment before her gaze settled on the ceiling. It faltered for a moment before she finally asked: “... do you think Esenaij would have been happy for us? From what I can remember…he would have been a shite uncle.”

Bayarmaa paused, taken aback by Nomin’s words. Her hands shook after a moment as she attempted to rein in her laughter. Though it seemed that Nomin shared in the amusement, because for as straight faced as she made her statement, it was a jest all the same.

“He would have been a shite uncle,” Bayarmaa concurred, a laugh falling from her lips.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #estinien varlineau #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: kuzhuk oroq #oc: ankhbayar oroq #oc: esenaij sagahl #wolstinien #cinnamon ship #my writing #postpartum #don't be fooled by me focusing on children or childbirth #i know nothing #because unlike Nomin -- I have no intention of becoming child bearer or birther #so i'll admit to being mildly ignorant and that most of what i know comes from other mother stories instead of experience

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paintedscales · 11 months

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002. Sagahl

Fresh into Reunion after her Tumeti trial, Nomin makes the acquaintance of a Sagahli merchant by the name of Esenaij who seems keen at making sure she is okay while also keeping her at an arm's length. Based off of what she knows of the Sagahl, however, Nomin is quite elated by the idea that she can learn many different ways of benefiting from the bounties of the land. Even if they might not use beastkin as beasts of burden, or livestock. Little did Esenaij realize, however, that he would be taking Nomin home that night to his own broken family after hearing her brief tale.

Word count: 4,203

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

“I told you, I’m not lost. I’m not separated from my parents, either!” Nomin protested as she sat on top of a crate behind a Sagahl’s merchant stall. She kicked her legs back and forth, her heels tapping against the wood noisily -- on purpose at that. Nomin was starting to become annoyed that it seemed the Sagahl vendor who told her to wait behind his stall for her parents kept insisting upon it.

“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.”

“I chose my own name! And it’s not like you’re getting any more customers this late…” Nomin replied indignantly, her feet continuing to tap against the wooden crate she sat on. However, the pace of her kicking had started to speed up in her annoyance. Her brow knit together as a frown creased on her lips. “My parents aren’t going to come for me. It’s only the first day of the trial and migration, and Nhaama has shrouded the land in darkness.”

“Take this and quiet down already,” the Sagahl vendor said with a frustrated sigh, walking over and placing a small sack of Azim strawberries next to Nomin. He shot her a look of annoyance before tending to his stall once more.

Nomin stared at the small sack for a long moment before slowly halting the kicking of her feet and tentatively grabbing the sack. If anything, she at least knew she was getting some strawberries of quality. Anything gathered or cared for by a Sagahl was bound to be delicious from what she had picked up briefly. They were basically the experts of the flora that grew throughout the Steppe! And how right she was with her assumption, for the first bite of one of the precious strawberries exploded in flavor, and it delighted her sense of taste with the sweet and tart flavors the berries had to offer.

It had been amazing to have something to finally eat after such a long journey. The excitement of being freed, and coming to her revelation, had been enough to make Nomin forget her hunger. Now that she had the strawberries in hand, however, she had been quick about putting berry after berry into her mouth.

Though Nomin had quieted down since she had first been taken into custody of the Sagahl, she peered over at the rest of his wares inquisitively. She brought another strawberry to her mouth, munching nonchalantly as she eyed some of the other fruits and vegetables.

“That’s all you��re getting,” the Sagahl sternly said, not turning his full attention to Nomin. “For now, anyroad.”

“Why?” Nomin pressed.

“Because that’s what I’m choosing to not sell.”

“Why?”

“Because strawberries are one of the most delicate bounties of the land. If you or I do not eat those, they will go to waste.”

“Why?”

“Because you need something to eat if you truly are here from your trial.” The Sagahli man breathed a long, heavy sigh through his nose. It was clear that he was growing more bothered with each pressing ‘why’ that the young au ra incessantly threw at him.

Nomin pouted and looked at the small sack of strawberries she had been devouring. Even as much as she wanted to, she could not press the ‘why’ of that. It was true, after all. Hunger and thirst were other reasons Tumet children failed their trial, if not two of the main reasons. It was why, before migration, Tumet families came together and had a giant dinner the night before, and a giant communal breakfast the day of. It had all been to ensure the children had as much strength as the tribe was willing to offer them.

“Can you teach me about how to live off the bounties found across the Steppe?” Nomin asked after her moment of consideration, popping yet another strawberry into her mouth and smacking noisily away at it.

“Wh-what?” The Sagahli man looked over his shoulder at Nomin in mild annoyance and disbelief, very nearly dropping the bowl he was using to scoop leftover fava beans that were on display back into their sack. Some few stray beans had clattered against the stall counter and onto the ground, causing him to hiss a curse as he knelt down and collected them back up.

“Well…I need to find a way to live off the land and make a life for myself. I should learn from the best, right? Who’s better at foraging from the land’s bounties than the Sagahl?” Nomin asked, thinking she sounded awe-inspiring in some respect or another. After all, now that she survived the trial of the Tumet at the very least, she was practically an adult. That was her opinion, anyroad.

“Absolutely not,” the man said with a creased frown upon his lips. He had been kneeling on the ground, picking up what precious beans had escaped him.

“C’mon! Please?” Nomin urged, hopping off the crate and staring up at the Sagahl with determination in her eyes. She clutched the sack of strawberries as she then continued: “I’m gonna travel the Steppe, and I must learn!”

“Ask your parents.”

“I’m not going back to the Tumet! I freed myself and ran here!” Nomin argued. “I don’t want to live with the Tumet and know that there are other okhin, khüü, and khüüked who die before every Tsagaan Sar if they don’t make it!”

The man fell silent, taken aback by the former Tumeti child’s words that were filled with such conviction. When he looked at her, he saw her equally angered and determined expression upon her face. After a moment, a scoff left his lips as he stood and went back to moving fava beans from the stall display into a woven sack. Nomin watched him shake his head in disbelief.

“And here I thought you Tumet were raised not to form such connections till after rebirth,” the Sagahl said, tying off the sack after emptying the display and putting it up onto a wain.

“... But…the friends I make sometimes don’t make fun of my scales. Not like some of the older Tumet that come back, or even some of the adults…” Nomin slowly replied, frowning. “And then…sometimes, those friends just never come back.”

The man paused for a moment, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, though he merely let out a silent sigh through his nose. He instead went back to gathering up his produce and things that had been traded to him to put them away on the wain. There was no dzo attached to it; there had not even been one around nearby, much to Nomin’s befuddlement. After all, dzo and horses were used as beasts of burden all across the Steppe.

“Where’s your dzo, mister?” Nomin asked since it seemed nothing but silence had been filling the air between them.

“The Sagahl don’t use beastkin for labor. They are as we are on this land. Children of the Steppe -- that is how we Sagahl view them. I thought you would know this,” the man replied. He looked over at Nomin before walking past her to take up the crate she had been sitting on prior.

Nomin’s expression fell to a scowl before she took another strawberry out of what she had been given and chewed on it with some level of frustration. There had only been so much that she had been taught. After all, Tumet children were merely fed and watered by the adults for the most part -- at least until they had undergone their naming ceremony upon returning from the dawn pines. Being taught anything past that in regards to various kinds of knowledge outside of chores had been more of something that had been picked up through eavesdropping unless a parent had been keen to teach what they knew or could. That, in and of itself, had been quite rare as it had been frowned upon among the Tumeti people.

“Well… I…I don’t know everything…” Nomin replied after she had swallowed. It stung to admit, but given that most Tumet children were treated more akin to the cattle and livestock till after the trial, it was the truth. She then regarded the man with some form of indignation, “a lot of what I did was help with chores and ‘make myself useful.’ I thought you would have known that.”

“Hmph…” The Sagahli man continued putting his wares away into crates and sacks, getting the wain loaded over time. He had fallen to silence, an equal-parts annoyed and pensive expression on his face. Silence lingered between him and Nomin for a while, only the relatively noisy chewing and smacking of her lips as she ate filling the air.

It was only when the man had gotten everything situated within the wooden construct that he turned toward Nomin. He seemed to have finally and silently come to a conclusion. Beckoning Nomin over, he said, “come then, Nomin. We return to the Sagahl Iloh.”

“Really?” Nomin peered up and her short tail had flicked skyward with a giddy sense of excitement and happiness. She had seen this invitation as a means to learn from the Sagahl.

The Sagahli man said nothing more, merely positioned himself within the harness of the wain and began to affix it to himself. While Nomin watched him, eating the last of her strawberries, he motioned to the bed of the wain, not looking back at her.

“Hurry up. I’ll leave you behind if you don’t climb on.”

Grinning widely, Nomin skipped to the back of the wain and climbed aboard. She settled herself between a basket of arrowheads and a crate of plums. Sitting up, she rested her arms on a tightly sealed sack that was safe enough to lean against so that she could prattle since she had been in an overall cheerful mood since arriving at Reunion. Sans whatever shared frustration and annoyance that she and this Sagahl man had during their conversations.

“So, mister…what’s your name?” Nomin questioned, feeling the wain lurch as the Sagahl started walking and getting onto a main path that had been flattened over years of travel from other Xaela on the Steppe.

“Esenaij,” the man replied, finally allowing Nomin to have a name for the face.

“I like that name! I’m Nomin!”

“Yes, I believe all of Reunion knows, if not the whole Steppe,” Esenaij replied sarcastically.

Nomin huffed at Esenaij’s response, settling a little more onto the wain and looking around. She did remember the curious glances and snickering that some of Reunion's visitors and residents gave her. Still, she had marched on and looked around until she had been stopped by Esenaij and told to wait at his stall. And now, it seemed an unlikely duo had formed.

“Hey mister. Can I have a plum?” Nomin asked, her attention returning to the crate of plums next to her.

“You just had something to eat.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

Nomin frowned and puffed her cheeks with another huff, knitting her brow all the while. However, her expression went more neutral when she looked at the plums -- they were hard to properly see in what little light the night offered, though she did her best to observe them. Maybe simply observing the produce the Sagahl often brought back for themselves and for market would allow her to perhaps figure out how to forage for the best fruits and vegetables that grew all over the land.

“How can you tell which ones are good?” Nomin finally asked, giving up after a couple moments. Their form being shrouded in the night provided little to no hints that she could pick up on.

“Hm?”

“The plums. How can you tell they’re good?”

“They become pink. Like the sun at dawn. When you see them turn a brilliant shade of pink, that is when they are the ripest. We Sagahl harvest them when they still bear green on them so that they ripen at our iloh, or ripen in the possession of someone who trades goods with us. If you eat them while they’re still green, they will not be as sweet or succulent, and instead more bitter and sour.”

Esenaij was surprisingly forthcoming with providing the information asked of him. Nomin had taken notice of that fact. She looked down at other goods in his wain and wondered if he would have been willing to answer more of her questions.

“What about the beans?” Nomin patted her hand against the sack she was leaning against, running on the assumption that there was where the sack of beans ended up.

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?”

There was a hint of hope in Esenaij’s voice.

“I guess I’m a little sleepy…” Nomin admitted, not having picked up on Esenaij’s hope and instead stifling a yawn now that her mind had its attention redirected and focused on the amount of fatigue her body had actually been dealing with in that moment. Her trial had more or less concluded, and had been concluded for several bells at that point. Now that it had been brought to the forefront of her mind, she felt leadened and tired.

Nomin settled down on the wain, sitting with her back against the sack this time. She looked at the stars above, still softly smiling to herself. The feeling of having a name and knowing what it was she wanted to pursue -- even with as loosely as it could have been construed -- left a warm feeling in her chest.

Hugging herself to keep in the warmth from her deel, Nomin soon closed her eyes, the rocking of the wain with Esenaij’s gait soon making her drift off to sleep.

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“Esenaij--!” the woman who wished to excitedly greet the man back from Reunion was forced to cut herself off when she witnessed him bring a finger to his mouth to shush her. Paused, she tilted her head with a measure of confusion. She then watched him as he removed himself from the wain of trade goods.

The woman herself had only been illuminated by the firelight of the torches nearby. Her inky black scales reflected and glimmered orange, but smaragdine striations had shone through every now and then when the light caught them just right.

Going to the back of his wain, Esenaij reached in and gingerly grabbed the sleeping Nomin, cradling her in his arms. It was, perhaps, the most amount of softness he afforded her in the short time that they had known one another. Not that Nomin had been awake to bear witness to it.

“Did someone trade you a child?” the woman hissed lowly in surprise. “And you accepted?! What madness spurred this decision, Esenaij!?”

“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. The last thing he wanted was to awaken Nomin and start her back up again with her prattling and wealth of questions.

Bayarmaa’s brow shot up momentarily after hearing what Esenaij had to say. Gazing over at the girl, her tail flicked as a concerned look befell her face. “She is free of her trial? Why does she not return to her tribe?”

Adjusting Nomin slightly in his hold, Esenaij hesitated. He struggled to believe Nomin’s words prior, staunch as he was in whatever belief he had regarding other tribes and his knowledge of them. However, he shook his head with a slight grumble, relenting to the question instead of opting to ignore it to speak of what he felt were more important things.

“... She is surprisingly sentimental for a Tumeti child. Regardless, you can ask her in the morning. You have always had more softness and patience than I. She -- Nomin -- will do better in your care than mine. Keep her with you while I return to Reunion to make what I can for us tomorrow.”

“... She has a name? But she did not return to the Tumet…?” Bayarmaa brought a finger to her chin, her expression contorting to confused thoughtfulness.

“It was what she proclaimed when she first stepped foot in Reunion. That her name is Nomin…” Esenaij paused, looking at the girl that slept peacefully in his arms. Consideration was evident on his face before he continued on: “she was proud to say her name to all who would hear…that, and that she is worthy.”

Bayarmaa looked up, dropping her arms to her sides. She then approached tentatively and looked at the girl within Esenaij’s arms. Her lips pursed together as she lifted a hand and brushed some locks of hair out of Nomin’s face to get a better look at her. Her expression softened as she let out a light laugh through her nose seeing how the lines of blue on Nomin’s scales shone faintly under the moonlight. Shaking her head, Bayarmaa looked up at Esenaij.

“... You took pity on her because she’s like me, didn’t you?” Bayarmaa asked.

“‘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.”

“If you say so,” Bayarmaa replied with a playfully incredulous look on her face. She then walked up the steps to their ger, opening it. Her playful expression had faltered somewhat as she held the door open for Esenaij and watched as he stepped in. He went over to one of the beds and got Nomin laid down and tucked in within the sheets.

When Esneaij rose back to his full height with a sigh, Bayarmaa chuckled softly before she approached and looked back up at him. Drawing her hands together, she said to him, “... I think mother and father would have been proud of you for taking her in. I think they would have.”

A small ‘hmph’ came from Esenaij, and he then placed his hands upon his hips.

“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?” “... You took care of me…” Bayarmaa softly retorted.

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Stirring, Nomin’s eyes slowly fluttered open as she felt the familiar texture of woven kudzu underneath and around her. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, pushing the blanket from her person. When she looked around, she noted the ger that she had been in. Most of the cloth had been dyed an inky, velvety blue -- the color of the Sagahl.

“Ah, you are arisen!” Bayarmaa spoke, smiling as she looked over from where she had been putting away some dried herbs. She made her way toward Nomin, and crouched down next to her. The first thing that Nomin noticed about the new Xaela woman was that, like her, she had some discoloration to her horns and scales -- small striations that faded into and out of the color green. Though Nomin’s discoloration of her scales were of a blue hue, she felt an immediate kinship to this new woman simply due to that similarity.

“Mm! Good morning!” Nomin cheerfully greeted the woman, rubbing her eyes to remove the sleep crust from them before giving the ger another once over. While she noted a lot of the different crafts made of woven reeds, herbs hanging to dry out, as well as some of the potted plants that looked well taken care of, there was an obvious thing that was missing. “Where’s mister Esenaij?”

“I had a feeling you would ask that. He returned to Reunion to make trade. The arrowheads he brought back from the Uyagir last night will serve the Sagahl wonders when we go on our hunt for shuvuukhai,” Bayarmaa, got back onto her feet and walked to where two plums were set upon a small, compact table. “Come join me. Esenaij told me you wanted one of these dawn plums before he left.”

There was a moment where Nomin sat there on the bed, dumbfounded by the notion that Esenaij had left her with some plums. Especially considering that he had been so adamant about her not having one the night prior.

Grinning suddenly at the prospect of getting a delicious breakfast after her thoughts had clicked into place, Nomin hurried out of the bed and went to the table. Her excitable motions gave the Sagahl woman reason to giggle. Bayarmaa put the plums into a wide bowl before filling it only slightly with water and then rotating it, making sure the plums were gently washed of any lingering bits of dust or dirt from when it was harvested.

“Eesenaij told me that your name is Nomin; I am Bayarmaa,” Bayarmaa introduced as she retrieved the plums and dried them. She handed one of the plums to the younger Xaela before starting to snack on the one that she retained.

“Thank you!” Nomin said, receiving the plum and happily starting to eat. She had heard Bayarmaa, but her attention was more on the prize that was the dawn plum. It was as Esenaij had told her just that last night -- that the plums were sweet and tender. The plums she had eaten before were more tart than this, and she had grown accustomed to it, but this was on another level of bliss for her.

Bayarmaa watched as Nomin ate the piece of fruit, chuckling again to herself.

“Esenaij also told me that you wanted to learn how to forage for yourself on the Steppe when he returned to us,” Bayarmaa went on to say, finishing her bite of plum. “It is not often that we Sagahl give our methods so easily, but he also told me that despite the victory of your trial, that you came to Reunion instead of seeking out the Tumet Iloh. Why is that?”

Nomin paused in eating her plum, slowly chewing what she had as she gave consideration to the question. Looking down at the fruit, she kind of shrugged her shoulders and swallowed what she had.

“I…I didn’t want to,” Nomin said, frowning slightly. She recounted a lot of what she told Esenaij the night before, and decided to tell Bayarmaa as well. The scrutinizing from the elder Tumet. Being told or even overhearing that she was not blessed with Nhaama’s love. Making friends that never really commented on her scales, only to lose them during their trials -- and that was even if they did or did not make it back. Those that were lost were lost forever, and those who made it back had often come to ignore the younger Tumet once they were recognized as worthy of the tribe.

Nomin looked at her plum and frowned, her memories going back to her life before her trial. Her lips pursed into a thin, though lopsided line on her face. She felt the pain and sting of their words throbbing at her heart, a small lump forming in her throat.

“I see. Well, I suppose it’s not uncommon for children of the Steppe like you or myself,” Bayarmaa sat down next to Nomin, offering a gentle smile, if a little saddened by what she had heard. “So long as you stay here with Esenaij and I, we’ll never tell you anything like that. If Nhaama has forsaken us, then so be it. You and I can show everyone that even without her love, that we’ll overcome anything thrown our way.”

“Mmhm!” Nomin concurred, smiling up at Bayarmaa.

“Finish what you’ve got and then join me, will you? Bring the seed of your plum along with you,” Bayarmaa requested, finishing her own plum. Standing, she held the pit of her plum between two fingers. “I shall show you how to care for and sight the bounties of the Steppe. How we Sagahl nurture this land we roam, and how it blesses us in turn."

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

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paintedscales · 9 months

Text

a08 :: Phone Calls

Modern AU.

Little iffy on this one, but my partner said they liked it / saw no problems with it when I slapped it at him for review. So... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I think I just have a weird disconnect putting everything into a modern setting while also attempting to have parallels that feel right.

Mentions of addiction and drug / substance abuse.

It had been years since the last time Nomin had seen or heard from Estinien. She never thought she would have gotten a phone call from him, but she was certainly happy she did.

Word Count: 2,343

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Nomin watched the fan blades spin as she laid on her bed. They were on the slowest cycle. Spinning round, and round, and round… Her lips were pursed, and she held her cellphone against her breast with both hands. Her heart was still beating with an ache, and she could feel that frustrated heat along her neck and face.

A knock came at the door, and Nomin huffed before saying, "the door's unlocked. Come in."

The door creaked open, and standing there was her elder sister, Bayarmaa. There was a mug in her hand, and a soft smile on her face.

"Hey there, Bluebell…you doing good?" Bayarmaa asked, entering into the room and setting down the mug on Nomin’s bedside table. "I made you some tea."

"... Thanks…" Nomin made an effort to sit up, setting her phone off to the side as she did so. She offered Bayarmaa an efforted smile before reaching over and taking up the mug. Taking a sip of it, Nomin allowed the mild sweetness of it wash over her tongue and down her throat.

They sat in silence for some time, Nomin only occasionally taking some sips from the mug with a distant look upon her face. Eventually, she sighed and brought her legs up to sit cross legged. Resting her arms upon her thighs, Nomin looked down into the mug.

"They told me to try again next year… They told me that my paintings looked promising, but that they weren't looking for landscape subject matter. But…it's all garbage -- I know they were trying to let me down easy…" Nomin started to explain to her sister. She let out another sigh to push back the welling of disappointment and sadness in her heart. "So…I guess I have a lot of free time this week."

"Oh…Nomin…" Bayarmaa frowned, feeling sad for her younger sister. She reached out and gently placed a hand on Nomin’s knee. "I'm sorry. I know how much getting into the Luminary Arts of Eorzea show meant to you…”

“It’s…fine. It’s not like I can do anything about it… And…like they said, there’s always next year…” Nomin quietly replied.

The sisters stayed silent for a time before Bayarmaa audibly sighed and then gently rocked Nomin’s knee in an affectionate manner as a show of her being there. “Well, Bluebell…we’ll plan something for the week, then. You, me, Esenaij…we’ll go and have our own fun around the city. Or…or maybe we’ll go out for a drive to the countryside!”

Nomin managed a small smile, turning her head in Bayarmaa’s direction.

“Thanks, Bayarmaa…I don’t think I want to go out, though. I appreciate it,” Nomin said in response. "Maybe I'll change my mind later. But for now…I just want time to process my feelings."

Taking a moment, Bayarmaa slowly nodded and offered Nomin a reassuring smile. Leaning in, she gently and briefly brought their horns together with a familial clack. Getting up from the bed, she offered the younger Xaela a small pat on the knee before she drew herself up.

"Just let us know if you need anything," Bayarmaa said. "Esenaij and I still have time to get the store situated for the week. But if you take too long, we won't be able to do much besides maybe a mall crawl at Sapphire Avenue when we're off our work hours."

"Yep, duly noted. Get out," Nomin replied, a hint of amusement in her tone as she picked up one of the sheep plushies from her bed and lightly threw it at her sister. Bayarmaa caught it and tossed it back up on the bed with an amused chuckle before leaving.

"Hey! Close the door!" Nomin shouted once even the last bit of Bayarmaa’s tail had left the view of the door frame. She reappeared with a semi-apologetic look before sticking her tongue out at Nomin and closing the door.

"Thank you!" Nomin then placed the mug of tea back on her bedside table and flopped back on her bed. She resumed the monotony of staring up at the ceiling and doing her best to piece together the positivity she could muster up to push away the disappointment of losing out on having her own art exhibit at the Mih Khetto's Convention Center in the heart of Gridanian Town.

The room darkened in time, the only light that had been filtering in being that of the sun pushing through the closed blinds. Picking up her phone, Nomin used the screen light to get the lamp on her bedside table turned on.

She will hear my song tonight / Dedicated to moonlight / See that I'm a woman grown enough for secr--

Nomin nearly jumped out of her scales as her phone vibrated and the song ringtone blasted from it. She cursed herself for not putting it on silent mode at the least, turning over the device in her hand. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest next. Part of her wanted to throw away her phone in surprise when she saw who was on the caller ID. Gathering herself, she finally slid her finger across the screen to answer the call and held it close enough for the sound to process within her horn.

"Estinien?" Nomin asked, her heart thumping. She had not seen him since she graduated from college with her art degree.

"Moonlight… Sorry, Nomin. I heard about the art show. I'm… I'm sorry it didn't work out…" Estinien spoke. He was straight to the point, all while correcting himself having used that name of endearment that he chose for Nomin when they were in high school. Admittedly, the Xaela did not mind -- hearing Estinien on the other end was enough to make her breath hitch in her throat and tears well in her eyes.

All that Nomin could do was sniffle as words, questions, insults, relief, and desperate want of reconnection raced through her thoughts. She wanted to ask how Estinien had been doing. What he had been doing. If he had been okay. She wanted to curse him for leaving without telling her. Without saying goodbye. Without telling her what he was going to be doing.

"It… I was really hoping… I'd be able to get that exhibit slot. Move forward with my art…" Nomin quietly spoke, her voice warbling and laced with sniffles as she tilted her head down. Tears rolled down her cheeks, down her nose, along her neck…

All she could do was use her timely rejection of an exhibit as a crux and excuse to cover up how much she missed Estinien. How much she worried about him. How much she was angry at him for leaving. She missed him more than she was torn about losing that exhibit slot. Ever since he disappeared, she had missed him.

"Do you still live off the Azim Strip by Nhaama’s Retreat?"

The question from Estinien made Nomin freeze for a moment. She hesitated before finally nodding and replying, "y-yeah… Still Ceol Aen Avenue… You know Bayarmaa and Esenaij can't move the Sagahli Foods storefront. Not since mum and dad…"

"Yeah, yeah... I know. I just…" Estinien paused. "I just assumed you'd be traveling by now. You always wanted to go out and see the sights for yourself. See your subjects first hand. I…"

There was a longer pause. A pause long enough to make Nomin believe for a moment that the call had been dropped.

"Estinien…? Please still be there…" Nomin quietly begged. "I just want to hear your voice."

"... I'm still here…" Estinien gently responded. "I was trying to tell you that I took on jobs and tried saving what I could so we could do that -- travel together."

Nomin was stunned. It was her turn to take a long pause. She struggled. Her mind. Her mouth. They both struggled to form coherent words and sentences.

"Why… why didn't you just… tell me?" Nomin asked, unable to keep her sobs back. Now she was just overwhelmed and hurt by this revelation. "I was so worried and upset that you just abandoned us -- or-or worse. Me, Aymeric, Haurchefant, Ysayle… I can't even begin to tell you how Alphinaud, entering his first year into college, was devastated to learn you just disappeared! He looked up to you."

"I knew you'd try to stop me. You'd tell me not to worry about it," Estinien replied. She could hear a hint of frustration in his tone before he sighed. "Listen… I just… I wanted to repay you for helping me through and cleaning me up from my addiction. For being patient and actually helping me however you could. If you didn't help when you did, then… I wouldn't be able to do any of this."

Nomin sat in silence, looking at the floral pattern of her bedsheets. She knew that Estinien had a rough time growing up. All the people she ended up befriending at school were people with rough childhoods -- herself included. When it came to Estinien, however… Perhaps his circumstances were the worst.

His parents and younger brother were murdered in cold blood. Just about everyone was aware -- news of the gruesome attacks in Ferndale just outside the city made headlines. Nomin and Aymeric both had reached out at the time, slowly coaxing him to make friends with the others in junior high through their shared experiences. But eventually, Estinien had succumbed to indulging himself in Somnus during their sophomore year.

Nomin remembered finding him. Alone. Disheveled. A broken glass pipe tossed aside -- the vessel for the powdered substance. She was relieved she had not found him slipped away completely.

She had promised to keep that side of Estinien a secret on the grounds that he would do what he could to quit. To actually get the help he needed from his foster dad. Nomin even remembered being there to speak with Alberic alongside Estinien as emotional support and to make sure he did not get punished severely on top of all the inner turmoil he must have been trudging through.

"... Okay…" Nomin finally said into the receiver, sniffling and rubbing her nose with the back of her fingers. "I… I'm just so relieved you're okay."

"I'm sorry, Nomin… for keeping you in the dark. I had thoughts during it all that you and the others might have thought the worst of me." Estinien had no idea what the others thought, but he was certainly closer to the truth than he imagined. "Aymeric was the one who told me, by the way. About the exhibit. He told me to call you, and I wasn't sure that I should have."

"I'm glad you did." The response that Nomin gave had come out before she even realized the words escaping her lips. They were automatic. Her mouth decided to voice that truth before her mind could stop her and make her say something else.

"Just… God, Estinien…" Nomin breathed, closing her eyes. "To hell with the exhibit rejection… I just want to see you again now that I know you still at least exist."

"... Yeah, okay. You will," Estinien reassured her. There was a moment that went by where Nomin heard him sigh with brief contemplation. After which, he continued: "remember that spot near Prism Lake where Haurchefant nearly broke his arm? The one we went to for one of our summer breaks?"

"Mhm?"

"Meet me there within the hour."

Nomin scoffed with an uncontrollable smile that spread over her lips. “Okay. I’ll clean up and see you there.”

“See you there.”

And just like that, the call had ended. Nomin continued to sit there, holding her phone up for a few moments longer before she finally lowered her arm. Another scoff left her lips, this one of disbelief to what had just happened. She then swung her legs off the side of her bed and took the time to drink more of the tea, now cooled.

Hurrying, Nomin had thrown wide the doors to her wardrobe and shuffled through the various array of clothes. She found something that had matched somewhat and got herself changed before swiftly making her way to the bathroom to wash her face. All while ignoring a confused Esenaij who had been walking down the hallway when she passed.

"Where are you going, Nomin?" Esenaij finally called out after her once she had exited the bathroom.

"Prism Lake. I want to clear my head," Nomin half-lied.

"You don't wash up for 'clearing your head.'" Esenaij folded his arms over his chest, giving Nomin an incredulous look.

"God, fine…" Nomin sighed, sitting down on the bench in front of the entrance door. She took her boots and was getting them fitted onto her feet. "I'm meeting with Estinien."

"Estinien?" Esenaij sneered. He then scoffed and asked, "you're really gonna go out and see that junkie? I thought at this point you weren't even friends since he just disappeared a couple years ago."

"I don't have time to entertain your hatred for him, Esenaij," Nomin said with a groan, getting up and grabbing her coat from the hanger. "Besides, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. I'm not that ten-year-old orphan that mum and dad brought in anymore. Thank god for that…"

Esenaij sighed in frustration before pinching the bridge of his nose. He conceded and said, "you're right. I'm still your older brother, though. And If he does anything to hurt you again, I'll see to it he wished he hadn't."

"Yeah, yeah… thanks," Nomin replied dismissively. "Go do whatever you do. I'll call if anything happens or if I need help."

Esenaij pointed at her. "Promise?"

"Yeah, promise. If it helps you sleep at night."

"Good. Just stay safe out there."

"I will." With that, Nomin had checked her pockets and made sure she had everything. Keys, phone, wallet, gum… and a pocket knife. Satisfied, she left the abode and made her way to her car, a sense of giddiness now flowing through her as she got well on her way to that place next to Prism Lake.

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #modern au #ffxiv oc #tw: addiction #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: esenaij sagahl #estinien #estinien varlineau #ffxiv estinien #wolstinien #cinnamon ship

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paintedscales · 4 months

Note

🌟 : A secret wish headcanon

Hihi, Vasheden! Thank you for the ask!! \ o w o / ♥♥

EMOJI PROMPTS

This one is actually pretty difficult, because Nomin doesn't really have a lot of secrets, and kind of makes what she wants pretty clear (so far as I've written her!).

I guess, though, one of the biggest things that she kind of hopes for is having people she can call family. Like, really call family. I think after leaving the Steppe -- particularly deciding to leave the Sagahl behind -- she feels like she's lost that family. Literally and figuratively in the cases of Esenaij's death, and thinking Bayarmaa won't accept her if she ever returned at the time.

She doesn't really start seeing the whole of the Scions as family till some of the climax points of ShB, with more of a lean of being like a protective older sister to Alphinaud during the events of late ARR and HW. (But still kind of struggling to see him as "family".)

So I suppose when I think about her children as well, even if they were absolutely unplanned and a surprise for both her and Estinien, I imagine she has a lot of fears in how to raise them properly. Though ultimately, I think she starts feeling more grounded and proud of herself as the children get older and it feels like they're given everything Nomin kind of wished she had when she was younger: love, support, and a family that is there for them.

#questions and answers #user: vasheden #thank you ♥#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #hints of cinnamon #cinnamon kiddos

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paintedscales · 7 months

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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.

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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

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paintedscales · 5 months

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006. Arulaq

The day of the Naadam has come, and during her time there, Nomin's attention is brought to a tribe she had never seen nor heard of before thanks to Yul's excited observations. Though not much is learned from the Oroqi individuals who have traded with the Arulaq in the past, there is hope that Nomin might one day travel to see the valley they come from.

Word Count: 3,088

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

The day of the Naadam had come all too quickly for Nomin. That was how it felt to her at any rate when she woke up to the excited chatter and commotion of both Sagahl and Oroq. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and removing herself from the cover of her blankets, Nomin squinted about the ger, catching sight of Bayarmaa organizing a good portion of belongings into a crate, meanwhile, Esenaij was nowhere to be seen in the abode.

No matter… What really made Nomin pause to consider the day was the fact that on this morning, she would have undergone her naming ceremony with the other previously unnamed Tumet children. Part of her wondered amongst those fleeting thoughts of what she would have been named had she gone back. Yet she had her name, she chose it, and she was more than fine with that.

She was…no…she is Nomin.

Still, as Nomin sleepily removed herself from her bed and stretched, she thought back to previous Naadams that she could remember. She remembered going to higher ground to witness the Tumeti warriors partake in combat with the other warriors of the Steppe. When she thought of the Sagahl, on the other hand…

“... Are the warriors preparing for today?” Nomin asked, yawning at the tail end of her question.

Bayarmaa gave a slight start, looking up at Nomin from where she was cleaning up part of the ger. Placing a hand over her chest as a means to collect herself, Bayarmaa offered a small, embarrassed smile in response. “I didn't realize you were awake, Nomin. As for our…warriors, no. We don't partake in the Naadam on the last day of the Tsagaan Sar. It doesn't benefit the Sagahl to fight for leadership over the Steppe.”

“Mm…” Nomin hummed, processing Bayarmaa’s words as she stretched her arms over her head and then trodden over to where her clothes were normally kept. Nomin’s gaze fell to her old gutal for a moment before she opened a dresser drawer and rummaged around. She lifted some neatly folded garments till she found the copper shard that had been used in her trial.

Picking it up, Nomin turned it over in her hands, candlelight glinting off of it as it caught onto the metal. She then looked over at Bayarmaa, who kept her own gaze mostly pointed in Nomin’s direction.

“What do you have there?” Bayarmaa asked, leaning to the side slightly as if that would give her a better look at the copper shard.

Holding the shard up, Nomin showed it off to Bayarmaa.

“I was wondering if you could do something with this?” Nomin inquired, closing the drawer halfway and then walking in Bayarmaa’s direction. Her movements were a little lagged, indicative of the tiredness still present within. “Since…well, since you made the baras. I bet you could make it into a necklace or something!”

Bayarmaa held out her hand, and Nomin placed the shard on her palm. A soft sigh fell from Bayarmaa’s nose as she looked the shard over a couple times. Its shine was dull -- as if a discarded piece used for throwaway clothing. However, the edges were sharp, an interesting detail when metal fittings and decorations upon their clothes were often filed or dulled so they caused no harm. “I can see what I can do. This is that piece of copper from the story you told Esenaij, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Nomin had already been walking back toward the dresser so that she could get herself dressed more appropriately.

Bayarmaa hummed softly in thought and then reached down to a pouch on her belt. Tucking the copper shard away safely, she continued getting the area cleaned up and packed away. Occasionally, she stole curious glances in Nomin’s direction, watching her and studying her.

“Are you…disappointed? That the Sagahl have no warriors who fight in the Naadam, I mean…” Bayarmaa asked, turning her gaze back to the chores she took on. She was in the process of closing the crate as Nomin pulled on some thick robes to combat the chill of the Steppe.

“... Not really…” Nomin replied after a moment's thought. She tightened her belt and got her dagger secured to herself. “I know I haven't been here long, but I guess it makes sense. I like that about the Sagahl. I like that you don't really want to fight in the Naadam. I don't think I'd want to fight in it, either. Even when I'm an adult like you or Esenaij.”

A small smile grew on Bayarmaa’s lips as she went about the ger. Pulling down a tapestry that hung on the eastern wall, she folded it. “That is well. We like not conflict with other tribes if we can avoid it… But…it does stand to reason that life on the Steppe necessitates such measures. After we get to our next location, I'd like to teach you what I know if Esenaij can't show you how to shoot a bow.”

Nomin paused. She was already sitting at the edge of her bed, getting socks on her feet. A look of contemplation grew on her face as she slowly pulled the thin fabric over her feet. With a few more moments of thought, she finally gave her response: “okay. Esenaij won’t be able to just travel to Reunion every day, will he? He can definitely teach me how to use a bow!”

Bringing a hand to her mouth, Bayarmaa chuckled softly. “Indeed. I’ll make sure that he actually sees to it.”

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The gathering of other tribes to watch the Naadam was astounding. As it ever was. It was also awe inspiring to see many different standards to indicate the tribes stood up on long, wooden poles proudly billowing in the breeze over many different groups of people. This was the first year that Nomin really took more involved notice of these standards, noting the different colors, symbols, and even different standard shapes that some of the tribes adopted as their own to represent their people.

By virtue of the Naadam itself, Nomin and many of the more passive tribes that attended the Naadam as an audience had little to worry about. Those that were more wanting of the thrill of battle found themselves already upon their hard-earned yol companions from the trials of Bardam's Mettle. Restless warriors rode their yol all across the presumed site of the Naadam, as everyone was still waiting for the Gharl soilbearers to make their appearance and spread the earth. To mark the start of the Naadam.

The Gharl Iloh was visible from where Nomin stood, their many ger erected and devoid of color -- pure white, waiting to have been stained by the new year's travel over the land. Nomin recalled how the Tumet sometimes traveled early enough to watch the Gharl arrive and set their ger up. She had overheard at the time that their ger only looked clean and spotless, but it was because they set fire to their old clothes and ger canvas to meet the new year in wholly new garments that will show their stories as the year progresses.

Looking around as the Sagahl traveled alongside the Oroq to a high enough outcrop, she looked for colors and tribal standards that she could pick out. The Oronir had been easy enough, with their bright colors that represented the bright sun of Azim. She saw the Dotharl as well -- ever the warriors that would charge into battle. In addition, there were the Adarkim, Qestir, Dataq, Goro, Olkund, Buduga, and many more of which she could not yet identify.

“Do you need some water, Nomin?” Bayarmaa’s voice broke Nomin’s concentration. Looking up at her, Nomin nodded and accepted the waterskin. She went back to looking out at all the standards, only occasionally looking up at the warriors that excitedly flew overhead on their yol.

“Whoa! The Arulaq are here, too!” Yul exclaimed, jabbing a finger out toward the standard that flew alongside the Khatayin's. When the Sagahl and Oroq traveled to their location together, he followed along after Chotan, who had not been that far away from Nomin, Esenaij, and Bayarmaa herself. He had since worn the wreath of flowers Chotan made for him around his neck.

“Arulaq?” Nomin walked over closer to Chotan and Yul, tilting her head in confusion. She had never heard of the tribe before. When she looked at their standard, she kept the symbol upon it in mind.

“Y-yea!” Yul started in response, glancing over at Nomin. He grinned, an opportunity to show off knowledge he had pleasing him. “We Oroq met them once when we were traveling down close to the base of the Tail Mountains one year! When they come down from the mountains, they're always with the Khatayin! They don't speak a lot of the same Steppe dialect we do, so the Khatayin often translate for us and them so they can trade and attend any tribal meetings!”

“They don't speak the same dialect as us? Why not?” Chotan lifted her hand to her chin, cupping it in thought.

“Dunno, truth be told…” Yul's expression fell to contemplation. “I think when I overheard some conversations with the Khatayin and Oroq elders, it was because the Arulaq had been sequestered away in a hidden valley! Apparently they never really needed anything from the rest of the Steppe and just stayed there until the Khatayin stumbled across them one winter! So they've been seen with one another more oft than not. For the best, probably. The Arulaq don't really have warriors than they do hunters since they've lived away from all the Steppe conflict for so long.”

“Yul has the right of most of it,” a gentle voice spoke. Nomin recognized it, and the three children looked in the direction of the voice. Yul’s mother was approaching them, a soft smile upon her lips as she looked out toward the Arulaq standard. “We’ve traded with them at some point with some minor difficulty. They have valuable ore and herbs found in their little valley that can be found nowhere else.”

Nomin’s eyes shimmered at the idea of a valley that had things she had never seen before. Biting her tongue momentarily, she pointed a determined gaze up in Esenaij’s direction. He looked back, and his brow quirked with immediate suspicion and annoyance. He was not necessarily listening in on the conversation, though Nomin’s expression only filled him with some level of dread.

“No.” Esenaij folded his arms over his chest, staring down Nomin, his gaze unwavering.

“I didn't ask you anything yet!” Nomin’s mouth fell open as she now started gawking at Esenaij in disbelief.

“You’re thinking of asking something, and the answer is no.”

“What was it that you were going to ask, Nomin?” Bayarmaa asked, peeking around Esenaij with a pleasant look on her face that spoke more to mischief than genuine curiosity. In response, Esenaij’s expression fell and an irritated sigh was soon expelled. His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose in slight frustration.

“Since Esenaij travels out from the site of Sagahl often, I wanted to see if we could go to where the Arulaq live! I want to see the valley where all that rare stuff comes from!” Nomin eagerly said in response to Bayarmaa, her hands balling into excited fists that came up to emphasize her desire. The shimmer in Nomin’s eyes returned as her little tail flicked skyward with Bayarmaa entertaining her clearly curious nature.

“Did you really have to ask her about what was on her mind?” Esenaij grumbled, pointing his annoyed look of slight exasperation down at Bayarmaa.

“Whatever are you talking about, my one and only dearest brother?” Bayarmaa asked sweetly, happily hopping away with a slight twirl to her step as she stuck her tongue out at Esenaij before looking back out at the expanse of land. Raising a hand, she shielded her eyes from the sunlight and looked around. A low ‘ooh’ left her lips as she waved her hand to beckon Nomin and the other children over.

Sweeping her free hand forward, Bayarmaa eagerly pointed a finger in the direction of the four distant Xaela, robed in pure white, and riding atop horses just as pristine. They were majestic, in a sense, as their horses strode calmly and elegantly across the grasslands. The one that led the van held a clay urn that had no lid to it. When more of the audience and warriors caught sight of them, cheers erupted, starting low before rising into a raucous series of whoops, whistles, and elated cheering.

“The Gharl soil bearers come!” Yul exclaimed once he saw them, his eyes lit up as he gazed upon the Gharl. His tail wiggled to and fro with his delight as he stuck close to both Nomin and Chotan

One of the Gharl soil bearers dismounted, followed by the three others soon thereafter. Nomin watched as they walked out onto the land, the leader holding her urn with practiced care. Tilting the pot, the soil bearer spread the soil of their last location onto the land. Once the last of the dirt was poured upon the land, battle cries from the warriors erupted as they charged for their prize -- the ovoo.

“My next harvest is on the Oronir again. With Sadu of Dotharl still a child in their current incarnation, the Dotharli warriors have hardly the support needed to claim the ovoo from the Oronir. Especially with the Buduga having recently allied themselves with them,” Esenaij said, folding his arms over his chest. “The Dotharli people may be known as the ‘undying ones’ with their reincarnation, though that will do little to avail them this Naadam.”

“Sadu? Who is that?” Nomin asked, looking up at Esenaij.

Bringing a hand to his chin, Esenaij squinted before looking around where the Dotharl standard was raised. He pointed toward them and said, “the young girl with the white hair.”

When Nomin finally saw who Esenaij was talking about, there was a moment's consideration. This Sadu looked to have been the same age as Nomin herself.

“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.”

“... Is she powerful?” Nomin questioned.

“We are yet to know fully. If she is indeed the true reincarnation of their previous khagan, then she will be a mighty force to contend with in several years’ time…. It is only fortunate that we Sagahl have no desire to reign over the Steppe. We know our strengths in knowing the land and its creatures. Fighting the Oronir, Dotharl, and the Three Giants would do little for us…” Esenaij said, frowning. “Though I cannot deny the Dotharli girl already emits such a powerful aura. Even at this distance…”

In that moment, the events of the Naadam became just background noise, slowly muffling as Nomin’s attention kept itself on Sadu of Dotharl. She was not quite sure why she was drawn to the other girl, but something about Sadu drew Nomin’s attention far more than any combat or competitive show on the grasslands below for the ovoo.

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When the clamor and dust settled, there was one who had captured the ovoo and was now dubbed ‘khagan’ for the year. A Dotharl man stood the victor for he and his tribe. There were cheers and whoops to celebrate the victory, though there were also groans and murmurs of concern from those that thought the Dotharl too battle hungry and bloodlust driven.

However, Bayarmaa was beside herself with laughter.

“So your next harvest shall be going to the Dotharl instead?” Bayarmaa asked, her hands on her hips and a wide smile upon her lips. “And you were so positive that the Oronir were guaranteed to win this Naadam!”

A frown was set heavily upon Esenaij’s face as he made no attempt to retort or respond to Bayarmaa. Nomin, however, only giggled alongside Bayarmaa at the turn of events. Though another thought entered her head when she realized what that also meant. With a small gasp, Nomin’s tail flicked up and she looked up at Esenaij.

“Esenaij! Can I go with you to visit the Dotharl Iloh?” Nomin asked, her eyes sparkling with the thought of being able to travel the Steppe and see other tribes and peoples. Not only that, but learn more of what other edible or beneficial plants there were that the Steppe offered. Granted, as not a true daughter of the Sagahl, she was missing meat, but perhaps she could hunt if Esenaij allowed it.

“So that I might suffer more of your questions and inquiries? No,” Esenaij replied, folding his arms over his chest.

“Bring Nomin with you, Esenaij…” Bayarmaa said, chuckling softly still. She then echoed Nomin’s thoughts: “it will be good for her to travel the Steppe! She needs to learn more about what we can find, how we prepare it while traveling, and if you’re headed out toward the Dotharl Khaa, you might as well also show her what grows on the fringes of Nhaama’s Retreat. Teach her as you taught me of the Steppe.”

A small growl of indignation came from Esenaij, though Nomin had been happy that Bayarmaa was at least on her side when it came to doing more fun stuff. Plus, Nomin was unable to learn much about what was in season at this time and would have to wait till spring had arrived properly. Skipping up to Esenaij, Nomin raised her hands to him with a grin.

“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. Though he was met with a pout from Nomin, Esenaij started making his way back with the other Sagahl and Oroq to their site.

Bayarmaa, on the other hand, was finally coming down from her amusement. She shook her head at Nomin and gave her a mischievous look. “Don’t you worry about Esenaij and him leaving you behind. I’ll see to it that you’re ready to travel with him in the coming days.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #ffxiv oc #xaela headcanons #xaela arulaq #ffxiv au ra #au ra xaela #xaela #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: yul oroq #oc: chotan sagahl #oc: esenaij sagahl #sadu dotharl #NTK:Chronicles

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paintedscales · 10 months

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008. Dotharl

Nomin comes to learn more about the desert than she expected, as well as receives a pendant from Bayarmaa made from the copper piece from her Tumet trial. The Sagahl van eventually reaches the Dotharl Khaa, and Nomin is told about the souls of Dotharl...and even how souls of others are accepted into the tribe under certain circumstances. During all of this, she also connects with a young member of the Dotharl whose experiences resonate with her own that she immediately finds herself comforted by in some way.

Word count: 4,894

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

A day and a half transpired as the Sagahli van pressed forward through Nhaama’s Retreat. In the wake of the harsh sunlight that heated up the sands to incredible temperatures, Bayarmaa and Barghujin took the time one morning to ensure the back of Esenaij’s wain was covered by a thick cotton canopy so that Nomin was shaded from the sun's harsh rays. In the meantime, those who walked took lighter clothes from their packed belongings to wrap around their heads and bodies, also taking the time to get Nomin dressed in the light and airy garments for herself.

“What are these for?” Nomin asked as Bayarmaa helped get her dressed lightly, but protectively.

“To protect you from the harsh heat. These clothes will let your skin breathe while allowing the wind to come through and cool your body. The sun will damage and dehydrate us if we aren't careful out here during Azim’s hours,” Bayarmaa explained. “We may be able to find glorious bounties in the desert if we know what to look for, but even that won't sustain us if we succumb to heat sickness or being too parched to function.”

In addition to helping Nomin dress appropriately for the desert heat, Baryamaa produced a leather cord with the copper filigree. There were some beads made of polished stone and wood that also adorned the necklace, making it prettier to look at. Almost instantly, Nomin beamed widely when it was given to her.

“You made it into a necklace!” Nomin exclaimed, drawing the cord around her neck.

“Mhm! When you told me about it, I took some nights to help shave it down and blunt it a bit so it wouldn’t cut anything anymore. I hope that’s okay? I probably could have fit it into the backing without doing too much…” Bayarmaa started explaining, hoping that some of her work with it would have been fine by Nomin.

“I think you made it pretty!” Nomin happily said, her tail flicking upward every now and then as it fell back into place. She held the copper piece of the necklace in her hand, smiling all the while as she turned it to and fro, letting the sun glint off of it every now and then.

“Then I’m glad,” Bayarmaa replied simply, smiling warmly as she double checked Nomin’s garments to make sure they were secured before telling her to get back onto the wain.

Nomin had her own waterskin that Bayarmaa packed before they fully set off from the Sagahl Iloh, thankfully. It was not something Nomin thought of, so having the water to sup upon while she rode in the back of the shaded wain made all the difference for beating the heat along with the clothes she was made to wear. While she was back there, she had been given the responsibility of ensuring the fruit and vegetables were nestled safely and securely, as well as remaining largely undamaged.

Travel was impeded at one point thanks to a pack of gedan that were traveling the sands. The pack was not large, thankfully; five of them. Nomin was the first to get carried out of harm's way thanks to Daritai's instinct that led him to scooping her up and out of the way from getting her arm chomped by one of the charging hounds. All the while, Barghujin and Keuken held themselves between the rest of the Sagahl and the pack of gedan, their lances pointed forward.

Bayarmaa’s disposition also changed, her hands flew to her bow and arrows to take aim and fire. Once Esenaij quickly got himself freed from the wain’s harness, he also collected his bow and arrows, providing supporting shots from a distance. Though the confrontation with the gedan took more time than they cared for, two were slain, and another two were injured before the remaining gedan ran off to seek easier prey elsewhere.

None of the Sagahl seemed particularly pleased about what transpired, though they paid respects for the beastkin they slayed. Nomin, on the other hand, had been far more hopeful that perhaps there could have been an exception to their ways. Her mouth watered for meat, though it was not meant to be. So, she practiced in paying respects, at least, for the fallen gedan who were now returned to Nhaama’s embrace.

Even though the Sagahl were not particularly pleased about the situation, each of them took on a job of bleeding, gutting, skinning, and butchering the two gedan they fell. Just about everything was collected, anything considered refuse being left to the sand. Hide, bones, meat, fat, sinew… Everything considered useful was prepared and packed away carefully in ways that Nomin never even considered until that moment!

“I'm sorry if that was my fault…” Nomin started when she helped Esenaij with cleaning the bones. She felt guilty, and went on into the why of it. “The Tumet taught some of the khüüked before our trials that if we were to see our trial at all, we needed to avoid the wildlife of the Steppe because small auri like me are more appealing to them as prey…”

Despite Esenaij’s sour disposition on most occasions, he gave a long, resigned sigh. Setting the bones aside in a burlap sack, he looked down at her. “It was not your fault, Nomin. This part of the Retreat is gedan territory, so it will not be uncommon to find them roaming about. Besides, it was not as if you went out of your way to find them and cause trouble. Small groups like that often grow desperate for food, as they cannot often hunt for larger prey with such few numbers.”

Esenaij’s words were gentler than normal, and Nomin’s tail flicked upwards slightly and tentatively as she looked up at him. A small smile graced her lips before she went back to help clean more of the bones that were left over from Daritai butchering the meat. The two of them carried on with idle conversation here and there, Nomin’s curiosities being answered about why they were expending so much effort in preparing the gedan remains if the Sagahl do not partake in eating or using the pieces of beastkin.

“Just because it's our way of life doesn't mean we should let it go to waste when it could benefit someone else who's way of life is different from our own,” Esenaij explained. “The Dotharl won the Naadam, and while our gift to them will surely be appreciated, their way of life here in the desert often revolves around their oasis. Finding food out in the desert is hard enough, they will likely appreciate the added meat once it's delivered.”

“And keeping it packed in that crate with ice crystals will help it stay fresh while we travel?” Nomin asked, glancing back toward Daritai and Keuken working on getting more of the meat cut, cleaned, and wrapped in parchment before packing it away.

“The temperatures the ice crystals will keep the meat at will prevent it from spoiling, yes…” Esenaij replied. He looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to think of any examples that Nomin could know. Finally, as he tied up the bag of bones, he said: “if you've ever encountered snow, perhaps the Tumet have dug holes in it to help preserve meat or even milk? The ice crystals essentially do the same thing without the need for such a heavy winter.”

Nodding along, Nomin hummed in thought at the information she had just received and reached for her waterskin to help wash her hands now that they were done. Though more time was spent getting the gedan remains situated and put away, Nomin watched with intense curiosity as even the hides were stored along with the ice crystals. When she asked about that, she was told that none of them had any materials to even start a tanning process, and that would have to be left to the Dotharl to take care of once delivered.

In the rest of their travels across the desert of Nhaama’s Retreat to the Dotharl Khaa, Nomin kept an eye out for anything that could have attacked them. Gedan, manzasiri, anala…anything that Esenaij and Bayarmaa had told her about, and everything that she learned about when she actually traveled alongside the Tumet as one of their children. What also helped were the recollections and information that Barghujin, Keuken, and Daritai were willing to impart as well in order to help keep Nomin aware.

It was fortuitous that they met with little else on the venture to the Dotharl’s oasis. Of course, when they met with the Dotharl guards, they had stopped them, their words terse and abrasive before Esenaij said that he and the others were here to deliver the tribe a gift. Noting the deeper blue colors of the Sagahl, as well as being shown the bounties of grain and fruit, the Dotharli guards soon relented and allowed the group through.

“Nomin, do you want to explore the oasis while Esenaij and the others make the delivery?” Bayarmaa asked, walking over to Nomin.

“Can I?” Nomin chirped eagerly in question, a smile growing on her face. She eagerly hopped out of the wain and looked around. She had already been quite taken with the sights of the oasis, but the idea of getting to walk around enticed her. She already noted that the ger that were weathered and worn, their blues fading from their time in the sun, day after day.

“Since we're welcome here, we can walk around as long as we don't cause trouble. You should go ahead and walk around as well; get your legs stretched after sitting so long in the wain most of our journey,” Bayarmaa said.

Walking over to Bayarmaa, Nomin elected to take up holding her hand for the time being. She knew that when the Tumet spoke of the Dotharl, they often had few nice things to say. Honestly, that recollection made Nomin just a little nervous about meandering around the oasis, even with Bayarmaa’s reassurance.

The two of them traveled the oasis together, Nomin peeking around curiously before the sound of a baby crying made her pause, tail stiffening as she looked toward the sound. Normally, Nomin would have just ignored it, but when she saw the cluster of Dotharli people at one of the open-faced structures, she pointed it out to Bayarmaa. Especially after seeing Sadu at the center point of them, a swaddled baby held before her by the winner of the year's Naadam, Maa.

“What are they doing?” Nomin asked Bayarmaa, turning her head to look up at the elder Xaela.

“It's somewhat of a naming ceremony, I suppose you could call it…” Bayarmaa started in response, bringing a finger to her chin as she thought over her words.

“Like how I would have gotten a name from my parents if I went back to the Tumet after my trial?”

Bayarmaa paused at the question before she frowned slightly, contemplating how to answer Nomin. She tugged on Nomin’s hand lightly to start walking toward the group. “Um…perhaps? Though, surely a lot more different. Why don’t we get closer to watch?”

Nomin followed along with Bayarmaa, feeling at least somewhat comforted by her presence as they neared. Nomin witnessed Sadu take the crying babe into her hands, surprisingly delicately as she hushed and rocked it to quiet it down. Once the wails had died down and ceased, Nomin watched as the baby gurgled and reached up, clutching some of Sadu's white locks as it giggled.

“Sadu Khatun, please tell me whose soul has entered the babe born from my wife?” Maa asked Sadu, getting down on his knees and bowing in respect to her.

Sadu herself, even while holding the swaddled babe, stood tall and proud. Her features were set with that same kind of air as she brought a finger down to stroke the infant’s cheek. Nomin watched as Sadu’s expression became more focused, her eyes staring down into those of the babe’s. Her brow furrowed, and soon, Sadu handed the baby back to Maa with a grin.

“This child bears the soul of Dhunan! The brave warrior who brought down several Oronir, Buduga, and Chaghan to see you, Maa, take hold of the ovoo! We will sing to this child praise of what he did during the Naadam, and how he would always put the other Dotharli before himself with the power of seventy manzasiri!” Sadu proclaimed proudly and with conviction. She took up her staff and rammed the butt of it into the ground, her free hand resting upon her hip. “Even in his past lives, Dhunan displayed great feats of strength! In this life, we shall ensure he grows strong, telling him of how his past lives trained and trained!”

The hair on the back of Nomin’s scalp and neck stood on end once the crowd of Dotharl started cheering, chanting the name of the baby with glee and mirth. She staggered back a bit before hiding somewhat behind Bayarmaa. Her tail wiggled stiffly with surprise at the raucous cheering. That was a little bit overwhelming in terms of excitement -- especially around such ruthless fighters during the Naadam.

“... I want to go back to the wain…” Nomin said, staying behind Bayarmaa before looking up at her.

“Is something wrong?” Bayarmaa asked, looking at Nomin curiously.

Nomin shook her head and pursed her lips, her hold tightening upon Bayarmaa’s hand momentarily. She then huffed lightly and said, “...It’s loud here.”

Bayarmaa offered a sheepish smile before turning and leading the way back; “very well. Come on, then. We’ll await Esenaij and the others once we find where they’re at.”

Following along after Bayarmaa, Nomin glanced over her shoulder at the cheering Dotharl at the khatun's seat before looking back ahead of her. While they walked, Nomin inquired about the Dotharl's naming and why it seemed like everyone had any kind of name, her examples being that both Sadu and Maa seemed to have names that would be more fit for the opposite gender. Bayarmaa only chuckled in response and did her best to explain how she felt was best.

“It's actually really no different than if someone were to have named their babe Nergüi, I feel…” Bayarmaa started. “In that the meaning is to mislead bad spirits. As such, it's actually not uncommon for parents to give names that would typically be associated with us to babes that are male when brought into the world.”

Nomin hummed in thought, her gaze going to the ground as they walked.She thought back to the naming ceremonies she had previously been witness to when children who freed themselves eventually returned to the Tumet Iloh for their pre-Naadam migration. Recalling some of what she heard and saw, she finally spoke, “the Tumet don't name us as babes, though. The names given to those deemed worthy at the naming ceremonies are usually given by the khan or khatun. Sometimes the parents.”

“Oh…” Bayarmaa frowned, realizing that perhaps more gendered names were what Nomin found herself used to if that was how naming went among the Tumet. “I can see your confusion, then. When it comes to the Dotharl, their souls have no prejudice to the babes they come back to within the tribe, so you get a lot of members that have names that may be confusing on a surface level because Sadu kahtun sees the soul within the babe and declares their previous life who now inhabits it.

“But it's really nothing to worry about overall. You chose your name, after all.” Bayarmaa gave Nomin a grin. “Nothing would stop Esenaij nor I from changing our names to something we preferred. I guess you could say that if I did that, I would be choosing a name worthy of me. Just like you chose a name worthy of you, hm?”

Nomin's brow rose, and her mouth fell slightly agape at the idea. “I didn't think about it like that. I guess you're right! Just as I am worthy, I chose a name worthy of me! It could have been a boy's name, too, if I wanted!”

The two of them made it back to the wain where they were greeted by Barghujin and Keuken. There was also another boy there who donned the light blue deel of Dotharli youth standing with them, a ripened plum in his hands that he seemed to have been nibbling on. Nomin’s gaze lingered on the boy for a moment, her tail curling inquisitively as she looked from him back up at Barghujin and Keuken.

“There you two are!” Keuken greeted both Nomin and Bayarmaa. “Esenaij and Daritai are close to done, I imagine, with their audience with the Dotharl elder. They’ve already brought in the gedan remains that we got for them to distribute later. I think last I heard, they’re discussing some of the collection methods of gathering some of the herbs and fruits that grow within the desert.”

Bayarmaa let go of Nomin’s hand and then placed a hand on her back, ushering her forward.

“Go wait in the wain for a bit. They might need me to help with some stuff once Esenaij is done.” Bayarmaa’s attention then went to both Barghujin and Keuken. She then approached the other two Sagahl to talk to them while Nomin tentatively approached the wain, her attention having gone back to the unknown Dotharli boy.

The Dotharli boy was basking in the shade of the cover that was used for the wain, his own attention falling upon Nomin as she approached.

“Hello,” the boy spoke, making Nomin freeze for a moment, her tail flicking with added hesitation. Her actions and uncertain expression made the boy laugh rather heartily before he apologized: “S-sorry! I don’t mean to laugh…”

The boy then composed himself, donning a pleasant expression and asking: “are you here with Mister Esenaij and the other Sagahl? I-I mean, I guess that’s a silly question since you’re wearing the Sagahl colors. Just…Mister Esenaij sometimes makes deliveries to the other tribes for trade. He’s given me some dawn plums before. I’ve seen the others before, but I’ve never seen you or your sister before.”

Nomin gave the boy a quizzical look, tilting her head slightly. She neared the wain, walking under the shade herself and soon leaning against it. Every now and then, Nomin glanced at the boy, wondering who he was and why he opted to approach the Sagahl van when it seemed other Dotharl were more interested in their own doings rather than greeting them. He was a couple ilms taller than she was, his horns taking shape into becoming horns that curved outward and then forward.

Though Nomin thought over her questions, she felt too shy to speak up right away. Especially since she was still uncertain about whether or not she should speak with the Dotharl freely after stories she had heard from the Tumet. However, she did think to herself that having more friends her age would have been nice -- even if they were part of different tribes. It would have been fun to meet them again, whether in Reunion or elsewhere.

And so the two children stood in silence for a long time.

The pleasant look on the boy’s face faded into worry as he nibbled further on his plum. Nomin could really only rock back and forth on her feet, her back bumping against the wooden railing of the wain. Neither of them were really sure what to do or say for the most part. When the boy made no effort to move away, however, Nomin let out a silent sigh through her nose.

“I’m Arik,” the boy finally said, introducing himself.

Silence hung in the air again for a time.

“My name is Nomin…” Nomin slowly introduced herself in kind. She turned her head to look at him again, noting more of his features. Given how it seemed this Arik was not particularly shy about approaching the wain nor the other Sagahl members, Nomin then asked: “does…does Esenaij come here often?”

“Sure! The Dotharl don’t often venture too far from the oasis to go to Reunion. Even then, the Dotharl, er, we don’t have too much use for some of the trinkets and things there when we can trade the Uyagir for arrowheads and ore, and the oasis being here means hunting is generally pretty easy for people like my mother.” Arik seemed pleased enough to explain how the Dotharl were pretty well supplied overall.

Arik then turned the partially eaten plum in his hands before taking another bite. After he swallowed, he continued after a momentary pause, “...we don’t get a lot of things that are grown from the earth around here, though. Not like any fruit in abundance, or grains that we can turn into bread.”

Nomin’s brow twitched with bemusement at Arik’s way of wording things and placing emphasis on addressing the Dotharl on their own versus including himself among them with ‘we.’

“Are you not Dotharl?” Nomin asked, dropping her voice to a whisper. The question made Arik look at her in surprise. However, he started shaking his head in answer.

“N-no. I mean. I am! Just…when the khan -- the Sadu before the one we have now -- looked into my eyes, he said that he saw no one he recognized. The Dotharli woman who gave birth to me…she told me stories of a Noykin horse master who was best friends with her husband…my father. His name was Arik, and he had died in the midst of a terrible anala attack,” Arik shuddered, leaving some details unspoken. “My mother told me that my previous incarnation could tame any horse if given only a handful of days -- and nearly any creature.”

“That’s pretty amazing…” Nomin breathed, genuinely thinking the brief bits that were told to her were interesting and enthralling. Even if she did not know of the Noykin herself, she was still captivated by the idea of reincarnation now that she was speaking to one of the Dotharl herself. “So…you’re a reincarnated Noykin? How did that happen that you are now of the Dotharl? When Bayarmaa was explaining it to me, she said that the Dotharl souls come back into Dotharl babes. How do souls from not-Dotharl come into the babes?”

Arik shrugged, his face twisting in some confusion over it himself. After a moment’s consideration, he finally said to her, “my mother tells me that sometimes friends of the Dotharl -- those who have given their lives for the lives of Dotharl -- are invited to our tribe through death. That must be what happened to my previous life. I died in my last life and was invited to the Dotharl…which is probably why I never feel too welcome in their celebrations.”

“I kind of know what that feels like,” Nomin replied, the mutual understanding of feeling like an outsider to their own tribe formulating that start of a bond. She looked at Arik and told him: “I actually come from the Tumet tribe. I passed my trial, but…I didn’t want to go back. I never really felt like I could get used to the Tumet traditions. It’s why Mister Esenaij and Miss Bayarmaa now take care of me! Esenaij took me in shortly after I arrived at Reunion.”

Arik offered Nomin a small smile at her story, more because he felt somewhat reassured by her words. Then he looked confused, as if he realized something.

“Wait, if you’re from the Tumet…did you get a name from them, or from the Sagahl?” Arik asked. “And that woman…she’s your sister, right? Is she also originally from the Tumet? She has markings like you do…”

“I named myself!” Nomin replied cheerfully and without hesitation. “And…that’s just Miss Bayarmaa. She has markings like me, but she’s Esenaij’s sister. I guess she’s my sister now, too, though.”

“Huh…” Arik’s expression softened at that. “I never considered that you could name yourself… Do the Tumet usually let you do that? Or…I guess…”

Nomin shook her head emphatically. She told Arik about the naming ways that the Tumet normally employed as she crawled into the back of the wain to get herself situated a little more comfortably. The more that Nomin spoke with Arik as the other Sagahl got the goods from their wain given to the Dotharl elder, the more she found herself happily talking about all kinds of things with him. From what he knew of the Noykin, to what Nomin often found herself enjoying now that she was part of the Sagahl.

During their conversations, Nomin told Arik how she ended up naming herself, recalling the trial of the Tumet and how she always kind of liked the blue markings on her scales. How they and her general appearance were the inspiration for just calling herself how she saw herself: lapis. She admitted it could have been more creative, but that the name ‘Nomin’ always just felt right as soon as it entered her mind.

Their conversations went on as the wain was progressively emptied of its contents. Arik finished his plum long before they were addressed by Bayarmaa, who greeted them both with a pleasant expression on her face.

“I’m glad the two of you seem to be making fast friends,” Bayarmaa said as she neared them. She looked from Arik to Nomin. “We’ll be staying the night within the care of the Dotharl, Nomin. I know you complain sometimes about not being able to eat meat since coming to us from the Tumet.”

Bayarmaa then dropped her voice to a whisper.

“But, if you keep it to yourself, I’ll let it slide that you eat some tonight with the meals that will be cooked tonight,” Bayarmaa said. “I can’t expect you to adopt the Sagahl diet immediately if you were used to meat with the Tumet for ten years. Just work your way to it. If you can, try to eat less meat than you normally would. I’d rather you ease yourself into our diet than pick it up immediately and end up resenting it.”

“So we’ll get to hang out for another day?” Arik excitedly asked, his mouth cracking into a wide smile.

“Mhm~” Bayarmaa hummed in response. She then focused her attention on Arik. “Well, maybe not a whole day, but at least for a good few bells.”

Bayarmaa glanced back at Nomin before speaking again to Arik; “thank you for keeping Nomin company. She’s slowly been making friends with the Sagahl, but it’s really nice that it seems she’s taken such a shine to you…Arik, was it? Esenaij mentioned your name when I asked about you.”

Arik’s smile became pursed for a moment as he looked down at the sparse grass underneath him in a bashful manner.

“It was fun, Miss Bayarmaa. I’m glad that she got to come with the Sagahl this time around,” Arik shyly replied.

Thinking on how Esenaij was typically more prepared to go and get himself out in an early fashion, Nomin brought her hands up to the leather cord around her neck. She slipped the necklace off that held the decorative copper piece in it. Though she stared at it for a long moment, Nomin really did feel a deep kinship with Arik and how their experiences within their tribes -- former or current -- made them feel.

“Just in case Mister Esenaij wants to leave right away in the morning, here!” Nomin said, thrusting her hand out and offering Arik the copper pendant that Bayarmaa had fixed up for her during their travel from the Sagahl Iloh to the Dotharl Khaa.

“What is it?” Arik asked as he tentatively reached out to accept the necklace.

“Remember what I said about my trial?”

“Yeah…but…what does that have to do with this necklace?” Arik looked down at the copper pendant as the rest of the leather cord and its bits and bobs pooled into the palm of his hand. His expression fell into bemusement as he looked over the item.

“Miss Baryamaa helped turn the copper piece I used to cut myself free into a necklace! I want you to have it. It’ll be like a promise that we’ll meet again one day!” Nomin explained, grinning. She looked back at Bayarmaa after mentioning her, looking to see what her reaction was. When Nomin saw that Bayarmaa had that familiar, gentle smile on her face, Nomin beamed as she looked back at Arik. “When we meet again, you can give it back. Or…maybe you can just keep it.”

“‘Keep it’?” Arik parroted back, his face twisting into further confusion. “Isn’t it important to you? Something that you used to free yourself with that you wanted to keep?”

“Well, yeah. If you want to keep it, you can. If not, just keep it until we meet again!” Nomin said. Puffing out her chest with a sense of accomplishment, she smiled proudly. “Since you know how important it is, I expect you to take good care of it!”

An amused scoff fell from Arik’s lips before he slipped the cord around his neck. The necklace was loose still, even around his neck as he looked down at the copper piece in the palm of his hand again. “Alright. It’s a promise then.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #au ra #au ra xaela #xaela dotharl #xaela headcanons #my writing #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #oc: bayarmaa sagahl #oc: esenaij sagahl #oc: barghujin sagahl #oc: keuken sagahl #oc: daritai sagahl #oc: arik dotharl (noykin)#sadu dotharl #oc: maa dotharl #NTK:Chronicles

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