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Chapter Text

“I have written a letter to my counterparts in the Eorzean Alliance.” Kan-E-Senna produced an envelope from her robes before walking forward and handing it off to Nomin. Tentatively, the auri took it and gazed down at it for a long moment. Her mind was flooded with questions and overall doubt -- so much so that it was hard to pay attention to the rest of what the Elder Seedseer had to say.

This moment felt entirely so surreal.

Traveling the Steppe as merely a wanderer, to finding her way to Kugane, Nomin had really only come to Eorzea to put greater distance between herself and the Steppe for the safety of her people. To think that she had made enough waves since having been in Gridania that afforded her a private audience with the Elder Seedseer after her collapse at the ceremony was surprising to have said the very least.

“... Nor are we any closer to learning the fate of the Warriors of Light.” Hearing Kan-E-Senna mention the Warriors of Light made Nomin look up from the missive in her hands. Her thoughts had finally cleared enough to remember where she was. The Elder Seedseer herself had her full attention on Nomin. That was enough to make the auri stand a little straighter and at attention.

“Yet so long as we live, never must we give up hope. We owe this to those who laid down their lives that we might behold another dawn. In remembrance of them, a memorial service will soon be held upon the anniversary of the Battle of Carteneau. This missive bears the details of that service.”

Again, Nomin looked down at the envelope. There was this burgeoning sense of doubt and dread at the prospect of being trusted with something so…important. Especially as someone who had not even been in Eorzea all that long. Was she really the correct choice for something like this? To approach those in the Eorzean Alliance as a representative of Gridania and the Elder Seedseer herself?

“You graciously accepted the part of Emissary in the recent ceremony. Should you be so willing, I would now make you my envoy, and have you bear my message to our allies.” The Elder Seedseer’s words only made that stone of self-doubt sink deeper into the pits of Nomin’s stomach.

The people of Gridania had made it clear several times that they did not seem to appreciate Nomin’s presence. For a mercy -- a very, very miniscule mercy -- the Gridanians’ disdain seemed to extend to all outsiders, rather than just her as an au ra. Still, it stung and made Nomin reluctant for a lot. Though she pressed on, and continued doing what she could aside from participating in Timbermaster Beatin’s lessons for the Carpenters’ Guild.

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

Kan-E-Senna approached Nomin, a warm expression on her face.

“Your dedication to the people of Gridania rouses fond memories in me, and I would choose no other for the role,” Kan-E-Senna reassured. “In the time that you have been here, you’ve selflessly given yourself to the needs of the people, regardless of the task ahead. So please, will you do me this favor?”

“If you’re certain… Then I shall do my best not to disappoint.” Nomin gave a shallow nod at the end of her statement.

“Humbly, I thank you. As you are no doubt aware, our partners in the Eorzean Alliance lie some considerable distance away. Nor are Ul’dah and Limsa Lominsa close to one another. Yet fear not, for I have no intention of subjecting you, mine own newly anointed envoy, to a journey which would take weeks by land.”

Kan-E-Senna motioned for one of her guards to step forward. An elezen woman with tight, brown braids against her head gave a Serpent Salute before producing a pass for Nomin to take. When Nomin held it in her own hands, her mouth fell slightly agape. She could only stare at the pass in disbelief.

“I mean for you to travel by air. Receive of me this airship pass. With it, you may make use of the skyways that connect the three city-states of the Alliance.”

There had been more to Nomin’s audience with Kan-E-Senna, though she had left the Stillglade Fane still feeling that sense of doubt and uncertainty. The fact that it had been revealed that the Elder Seedseer did not make her decision alone in granting Nomin trust left the auri woman with even more questions. Who else had been keeping tabs on her? Was it Mother Miounne? Had it been someone else entirely? Maybe she would have never found out.

Nomin leaned against the airship railing, her attention on the world below as they flew past.

She took in a breath, closing her eyes as she did so.

Was it truly right of her to have accepted this task?

Nomin supposed that only time would tell.

Chapter Text

Rustling of the leaves as the wind blew past was rather new to Nomin. So too was the shade that the canopy of the Black Shroud above her provided. Never before had she seen such dense trees. Why, walking through the Shroud would have been like walking under the cover of night in some parts! She thought to herself that members of the Kagon would have been elated by the prospect, perhaps.

Alas, Nomin was not here to take her time to appreciate the Shroud.

Instead, she had a task -- a mission -- set upon her by Gafrid stationed at the Bannock. Nomin was to travel the north and east of the training ground to investigate a landmark known as Lifemend Stump to see if there were any suspicious individuals around. With concerns of their quarry having contacts on the inside, she was requested as adventurers are considered wild cards in some cases.

Drawing another breath, Nomin soon sighed to herself and took a leather cord to get her hair tied up in a ponytail before pressing onward and past a bridge.

Walking up a trail, Nomin had already seen the waterfall that obscured the rest of it. It was mystical -- not something she had seen back on the Steppe. Truly, the magic of adventure and discovery could not be understated when one saw something that, even if well known by the locals, felt like a secret when one beheld it.

Nomin walked the trail, under the waterfall, feeling the mist of its waters soothing her skin in the heat of the day. She really did wish she had more time to take it all in. The way Gafrid had mentioned that this suspicious individual she was to look for along with the rising threat of the Ixal had made the locals fearful, Nomin tread carefully through the tunnel and stepped out into the clearing.

She scanned the area. Many trees were apparent -- each one with thick trunks that indicated their impressive ages. However, the Lifemend Stump had been more than apparent. Its base where it had been cut far exceeded any of the other trees in the clearing. Approaching it, the Sagahl in Nomin found herself simply amazed by the sheer size of it.

Kneeling next to the stump momentarily, Nomin feathered her fingers across the bark. She felt the grooves and roughness of the stump’s natural markings. They were like unique patterns of scales on different auri people. It may have been mundane to some, but to Nomin, it was always fascinating.

“What things have you borne witness to, I wonder…” Nomin softly whispered to herself. She rose back up on her feet and looked at the stump a bit more. Aside from the blade that was wedged within the wood, she noted the stones and leaf patterns that were arranged in a circle upon the stump.

Perhaps it was a way of respecting the tree’s life.

Nomin’s attention went back to the blade. An ominous aura seemed to emanate from it, and she walked to it. Before she could even place her hand on the hilt, a voice had called out.

“Look! Someone’s already here!”

Nomin turned her head to look over her shoulder before facing them completely. It was a bit of a surprise to see more than one person, admittedly. Even more surprising was the moogle that accompanied both the hyuran woman and the lalafellin man. Especially when Nomin considered the moogles that had spoken to her on her carriage ride telling her that only special people can see them.

“Oh dear.” The hyuran woman placed a hand on her chin, and though her eyes were obscured by a mask, she seemed perplexed. “Is that a sword in the stump? Bad idea. Really bad idea…”

Her arm motions then became animated as the moogle with them hovered forward.

“It takes a lot less than that to incite the Greenwrath, you know? Why, the first time I came to the Twelveswood--” the hyuran woman was on a tangent, but her words were drowned out to Nomin as the lalafellin man looked up at the Moogle and spoke. Nomin could swear his voice could rise above the raucous cheer of pirates with how it cut through the air with such clarity.

“Is this our dark stranger?”

“No, no, not this one. Not even close, kupo!” the moogle replied. It seemed both the moogle and lalafell were used to the hyuran woman rambling on and on. Because even as they spoke to one another, the woman could not be reined in. However, it seemed the woman gained enough clarity to pause and look at her fuzzy companion.

“You know her, Kuplo Kopp?” the masked woman asked.

“Well, not exactly, but we did once share a carriage. Isn’t that right?”

Nomin’s brow went up slightly before she slowly nodded. “Y-yes. I…suppose that’s correct.”

Then again, there had been at least one other moogle that Nomin remembered seeing on that carriage ride into Gridania. Had this been the one that actually spoke to her? Was it the menace that had drained the rest of that merchant’s booze? Regardless, she thought better than to blurt out that she was not sure because the moogles she had seen all looked similar thus far.

Once the lalafellin man had taken a contraption out and affixed it to his head, Nomin watched him a while longer before these…spectacles were used to look around the immediate area. Meanwhile, it seemed the hyur was also paying relatively close attention.

“How are the readings?” the woman asked.

“Same as the last,” the lalafell replied, placing his hands upon his hips as he looked to and fro. “There is a disturbance here as well, and newly manifested at that.”

Deactivating the device, the lalafell removed it from himself. He then turned his full attention upon Nomin, pressing a finger to his chin in contemplation; “Kuplo Kopp seems convinced of your innocence. But if this isn’t your doing, whose is it?”

“That’s…what I’m here to figure out, actually. Gafrid requested my assistance with this as an adventurer,” Nomin replied. She decided that perhaps it was best to be forthcoming with why she was there rather than be painted a potential threat. She had left the Steppe so that she was no longer considered one by the Jhungid, after all.

“Ever since the Calamity, the forest’s been really sensitive,” the hyur piped up, a slight frown upon her face. “The slightest disruption to the aetheric flow…”

As if on cue, the ground beneath their feet rumbled almost violently.

“... And this sort of thing happens!” the hyur finished.

Nomin had looked frantically around. She had the thought that it may have been an earthquake of some kind or another, but hearing the pop and snap of roots along with the disturbance of earth made her immediately think otherwise. Noting that the strangers had been looking past her, Nomin turned her gaze behind her and saw several seedkin that she had come to learn were called ‘treants’ had unearthed themselves. And they did not seem happy in the slightest.

Grabbing his staff from its mount upon his back, the lalafell seemed more than ready to combat their new foes; “it seems we have little choice…”

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

“Oh, we’re going to get along swimmingly~” the hyuran woman cooed as she raised her fists and adjusted her stance. Meanwhile, the lalafell had groaned at the pun before combat was truly upon them.

Chapter Text

A plate of pink cubes of gelatinous sweets, powdered liberally with snow sugar, was placed on the table that Nomin found herself seated at that evening at the Carline Canopy. One of her current companions that had come with her to see to levequests, or various jobs and quests around the city that may have been asked of them, had brought them over after putting them together. Luckily, this companion of Nomin’s was a Keeper of the Moon miqo’te who went by the name of Lorha. Being with her was like having a social shield that prevented people from shooing Nomin away on more than one occasion while they traveled around Gridania.

“Um…what…what exactly are these, Lorha?” Nomin finally asked, staring at the sugared cubes before her. She reached out and grabbed one, feeling it give even under gentle pressure.

“Ala Mhigan delights!” Lorha happily chirped in response. She sat down in the empty chair next to Nomin while waving to a waiter. Once the waiter had arrived, Lorha asked for some tea to accompany their treats.

“Did you get these from Ala Mhigo?” Nomin squished the confection between her fingers a couple times. Part of her was simply mesmerized by how the treat gave and slightly returned to form -- more so was she taken by how the snow sugar separated with cracks. The patterns reminded her of lightning.

“Oh no! I made them myself, actually!” Lorha sounded proud of herself as she reached over and took one of the treats and bit half of it. Her ears had perked up, and her tail curled forward and around her. It seemed that she was enjoying herself well enough.

Lorha then peeked over at Nomin. She noticed the auri still pinching and squishing the cube between her fingers.

“Try one! You said you like sweets, didn’t you? You’ll surely enjoy these!” Lorha urged, popping the other half of the delight into her mouth.

Bringing the cube she held to her nose, Nomin tentatively sniffed the confection. There were fruity hints that she could discern, though there were also some scents there that confused her. The scents that befuddled her were scents she had not once encountered on the Steppe in the past. It made her only somewhat reluctant.

Taking a tiny bite of the corner of the cube, Nomin pushed the sugary substance around in her mouth, allowing it to coat her tongue.

Lemon -- she could taste that for sure. She could swear she also tasted orange, but was not quite sure since she had only sampled a few of them in Limsa Lominsa last time she was there. Everything else was just sweet with a hint of a floral aftertaste. It was delicious, though -- Nomin could certainly see just why the Ala Mhigans would call this a delight.

“It’s delicious!” Nomin said, not too aware how surprised she sounded as she took another bite.

“Isn’t it just?” Lorha grinned and took up another confection. “You know, the origin of the delight isn’t really well known. I don’t even know it.”

“Nothing in Sharlayan that told you?”

“No, unfortunately. Then again, food and how good it tastes isn’t as diligently studied as some may hope.” Lorha took a bite of her new confection before placing a finger to her chin as she slowly chewed and savored the flavor. In her moment of thoughtfulness, she asked: “tell me, have you ever heard of archon loaf?”

“Um…no? What is that exactly?” Nomin put the rest of the delight into her mouth as she awaited an answer.

“Well! I’m glad you asked!” Lorha smiled, but it was not a smile that Nomin found herself feeling as if she were in good company. Lorha had turned to her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped loaf of bread. It was dark and looked kind of like rye that she saw at the markets at the Shaded Bower. It was sliced and ready to be taken slice-by-slice whenever Lorha deemed necessary, it seemed.

Taking up one of the slices, Lorha used her fingers to break it in half and offer one such half to Nomin. Of course, Nomin was a little uncertain. That smile Lorha had made her feel uncertain. But she tentatively took the half-slice.

It was dense, and the bread did not feel quite…’right’ in her hold. However, Nomin brought the slice to her nose and sniffed. What she smelled almost repelled her. There was a stink of the ocean to it mixed with the earthy, sweet, and bitter scents of a myriad of vegetables.

Nomin definitely did not wish to try it now. However, curiosity compelled her as she nibbled at it.

Almost immediately, Nomin turned and spat whatever she did get back out of her mouth. She scraped her tongue against her teeth, trying to rid herself of the taste before putting the bread down and lunging forward for the tray of delights to snatch up a new one.

“The hells is in that thing?” Nomin asked, stuffing the whole cube into her mouth this time and keeping it there to coat the inside of her mouth with something much more appealing to her sense of taste and smell. Meanwhile, Lorha had been giggling gleefully, all while eating her bit of archon loaf without so much as a grimace.

“Sharlayan scholars have decided this is the best solution to hunger while maintaining their studies -- especially in the fields where aether is so abundantly necessary. If you need a quick boost to replenish your aether, this is your ticket to it,” Lorha replied, not answering the question. “It’s got fish, veggies, flour…your more important food groups that are rich in aether.”

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

Chapter Text

“Stupid, stupid, stupid Esenaij !” Nomin cursed, and none too quietly either as she stormed off away from the Sagahl Iloh. She clutched her training bow in her hand, her knuckles pale with how tightly she gripped it in frustration. The intrusive thought that told her to throw the bow down on the ground won, and she did. The bow laid there in the grass a good few seconds before Nomin slumped to the ground herself.

She was frustrated. By night’s good graces, she was incredibly frustrated . It had been a good fortnight that she had been attempting to learn how to shoot a bow and hit her mark, but nothing seemed to have been coming out of it. Hitting the targets that Esenaij set up for her had been difficult, and it certainly did not help when Esenaij said little more than, ‘you need more practice.’

It just did not feel helpful in the slightest!

Nomin was taught to string her bow. She was taught to nock an arrow. She was taught a basic stance to keep herself grounded. She was taught to exhale before firing. All these things, and yet she could not well hit her targets! Was Esenaij not teaching her the proper forms of each? Was he intentionally showing her how to do things wrong ?

Nomin took in a breath before angrily laying back onto the grass, her brow furrowed and her mouth in a tight frown.

No. Esenaij did the exact same things that he showed her and he was still able to hit his marks with ease.

That just made it even more frustrating!

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

Allowing a growl to fall from her lips, Nomin grit her teeth and laid an arm over her eyes. They had begun to sting with all that frustration that had built up over time.

She laid there for what felt like bells, the warmth of daylight slowly becoming the wash of dusk’s encroaching chill. Though she felt the ache of fatigue, she was still too upset to actually rest. Nomin had played over and over in her mind about the lessons shown to her; she was following his instructions! She knew she was!

Sitting up after a time, Nomin looked out toward the ocean from where she had stormed off to. She felt her frustration slowly fade as she took in the sight and colors. It was the first time she had ever gotten to really sit down and look out upon the ocean at sunset.

The sight was pretty. The oncoming night mingling with whatever remained of daylight created such beautiful colors. For a moment, Nomin wondered if she could create something like this with paint. She could draw plants well enough, she thought. A vast sky should have been simple enough.

Suddenly, the sound of rustling grass had caught Nomin’s attention. She quickly grabbed the bow next to her -- even if she had no arrows, it was some source of comfort. Turning, she looked up to see Esenaij as he approached. He still wore that unimpressed look upon his face, though something seemed a little different about him. Nomin was not entirely sure what.

Esenaij sat next to Nomin in silence. Together they sat there, Nomin’s attention going back out toward the ocean.

“Bayarmaa said you didn’t come back to the ger…” Esenaij finally said. “It’s been a bell or so. She was worried you’d miss out on getting something to eat.”

Nomin had not been feeling particularly hungry. Not until Esenaji said that, anyroad. Her stomach’s hunger was now felt within more noticeably. If anything, she was surprised it had yet to groan with how it felt.

However, instead of focusing on the hunger, Nomin frowned and looked down at the bow in her hands.

“... What am I doing wrong, Esenaij?” Nomin asked. “I’m really, really trying to do everything you do, but why can’t I hit anything?”

“You’re impatient and you’re only mimicking me, not taking my advice to heart,” Esenaij replied. His response was immediate, but his tone was actually soft and genuine. Softer than Nomin had so often been used to with him. He looked at Nomin, then looked at her bow before reaching for it and gently taking it. “Mimicry will only get you so far, Nomin… While it’s a good way to learn, you have to adjust for yourself. You’re smaller than me, you certainly cannot lift or pull as much as I can… You must keep yourself in mind instead of me. And you can’t keep getting upset after every miss -- that only serves to rattle your nerves and make you miss more.”

Nomin kept her eyes on the training bow that was now in Esenaij’s possession. Eventually, she lifted her gaze to him. His expression had softened only slightly, and now that her attention was pointed at him, he handed the bow back to her.

Mulling over all of the information that was given to her, it was hard not to feel the sting of Esenaij’s criticisms. Her mouth twisted into a frown before she pushed herself up and back onto her feet. Letting out a breath, Nomin did her best to keep herself calm. She would have rather not had Esenaij yell at her because she was angry. She had already left their archery lessons having snapped at him.

“What’s Bayarmaa cooking tonight?” Nomin asked, changing the subject. Her tone was terse, not that she particularly noticed herself. She would need time to think on the critique she had been given. Though for now, her mind resisted against the notion, her jaw set after she had spoken.

“Budaatai huurga.” Esenaij also stood himself back up, folding his arms over his chest once he was on his feet. He looked down at his foster sister, a more stern look on his face. “You’re not off the hook yet, though. If you really want to be a good archer, we have more to go over later. But please just do what you can to curb that impatience more than anything.”

Puffing her cheeks, Nomin furrowed her brow.

“Hmph!” Nomin could feel her anger bubbling back up, though she sharply turned her back on Esenaij and strode across the grassland back to the Sagahl Iloh.

Chapter Text

The wind had been knocked out of her as Nomin rolled across the dirt. Once she had come to a halt, she curled, clutching her stomach and gasping for air. Dull pain wracked her abdomen where she had been kicked.

“Get up. Again.” An overseer of the training spoke, their tone cold. Such was the nature of Bolormaa. Nomin could only imagine them, and she could see them vividly. The folded arms over their chest, the steeled look upon their face. Disgusting .

Sheer spite made Nomin bare her teeth and fight through the pain, through the breathlessness. She drove a hand to the ground, planting her palm there as she put herself on her knees and slowly pushed herself back up onto her feet. Once up, she stared down her opponent -- a smug looking girl, her hands upon her hips.

‘I’ll wipe that look off your gedan face…’ Nomin thought bitterly, furrowing her brow and attempting to fall back into breathing more normally. The pain still lingered, and the gaping loss of air struggling to come back fought with spite and anger. Where part of Nomin wanted to remain curled on the ground, the other part wanted to unleash fangs and claws.

“Positions.” Bolormaa demanded.

Both Nomin and her sparring partner complied to the instruction, positioning themselves before one another.

‘Come on, come on…it’s been one summer of this.’ Nomin angrily thought, her brow furrowed as she looked at her opponent. She hardly remembered any one’s names that were not of the Sagahl.

You’re impatient…do what you can to curb that impatience more than anything.

Esenaij’s words rang out in Nomin’s mind, and her jaw clenched.

She worked on remembering in the time that she had what had been done before -- why she ended up on the ground, doubled over. Nomin had been the one to lunge first, her punches and attempts at grappling only meeting air. She had only ever been focused on striking her opponent, never on her exact movements or how to best move.

Shaking out her hands before clenching them into fists, Nomin locked eyes with her opponent.

“Start.”

Nomin’s opponent ran at her, an eager grin on her face, and that smug glint remaining in her eye. The girl had come in to attempt to shoulder Nomin back onto the ground. With enough of a jerk to her senses, Nomin had danced aside, albeit somewhat clumsily. She had to right herself, tensing her feet into the ground as she reaffirmed her stance.

“Surprised you moved that fast, Broken Scale,” the girl sneered as she pivoted and swung a punch at Nomin, hooking her in the jaw. “But I’ll make sure the rest of you becomes just as broken.”

Hands having flown to her jaw, Nomin staggered back, tasting the coppery tinge of blood upon her tongue. An already loose tooth had dislodged completely, sitting in Nomin’s mouth. She turned an infuriated gaze at her opponent.

‘I made a promise…’ Nomin’s nose scrunched and her lips were pulled back into a taut frown as she reasserted her stance and threw a punch at the other girl. Of course, with as green as she was compared to the other, Nomin’s arm was grabbed, and she was pulled close, the girl’s other hand wrapping around her neck.

“All you’ll ever be is broken,” the girl lowly said, a taunting expression on her face. Their horns were nearly locked together.

Rolling the dislodged tooth in her mouth, Nomin pooled the blood and saliva along with it. Before the girl could say anything further, Nomin spat at her, tooth and all, just as she opened her mouth to taunt again. Though it had not been planned, the tooth had sailed straight into the other girl’s mouth, causing her jeering expression to turn to disgust and surprise as she let go of Nomin and staggered away from her.

Her hand went to her own throat now, Nomin glaring down at her as she coughed and made noises of desperation.

“Did y--” the girl coughed again. It seemed the tooth had gotten itself lodged in an uncomfortable manner. “It’s stuck--!”

Nomin took this as an opportunity. While the other girl struggled, the building anger and resentment exploded into Nomin flying at her distracted opponent, tackling her to the ground. Nomin’s fists had balled, and her actions were near barbarous as she slammed fist after fist into the girl. Her face, her throat, anywhere her fists would land.

The other girl flailed. On one hand, she had been coughing and trying to get the tooth unstuck, as well as trying to shield her face and other parts of her from Nomin’s wrath. She struggled with trying to vocalize any sense of protest or insult.

“Enough!”

The words were wind in Nomin’s blind rage as she continued punching. Her knuckles hurt, but that mattered little. With each strike, Nomin had borne witness to the blossoming of purple and green bruising, the reddening of skin.

“I said enough!”

Nomin was grabbed, a fistful of her hair gathered by Bolormaa. Though she was tugged back, Nomin still reached for and kicked at the girl.

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

Chapter Text

Summers had come and passed, Nomin had become a prize of sorts among the Jhungid. Not to be won, but to be dominated in combat should anyone be able to do it. A trainee of ten and five summers at this point, she had diligently trained. Under the beating sun, and under the chill of night, she had trained, she had endured .

‘Broken Scale’ had become just as much her moniker as it was used as an insult, much to her disdain. Whether it was for the unsightly striations on her scales, or the fact that she got up and was willing to break bones when it came to fighting the pureblood Jhungid trainees. Especially when it came to the pureblood Jhungid trainees.

Mimicry will only get you so far. You must adjust for yourself.

Nomin held the words in her mind, desperately clinging onto them.

A reminder.

A reminder as to why she fought, why she pushed onward.

Nomin still saw Esenaij in her memories. Heard his voice. His plea for her safety.

Run!

Fight after fight after fight. Each one a lesson, each one rife with as much observation as it was quick movements. A dance of combat that was carefully practiced, honed, and striving for perfection.

Each time in the ring: obsession. Obsession would snake its way around her mind, wrapping and coiling itself like a snake. Ingraining their roots like purbol vines. Just as toxic, too. Every punch, every kick, laced with roiling venom that only wished to poison her captors and would-be dominators.

In her time being trained as a warrior, Nomin had been recognized. Every time she was questioned about what drove her, she would feed them her lies.

Practiced.

Honed.

Striving for perfection.

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

Curb that impatience.

Time and Nomin’s false dedication soon saw her gifted with a steed. A dun horse with a coat that reminded her of the beach sand, and markings that were the color of scorched earth. She accepted this prize. He was a prize for her patience , and a new advantage to a plan having long been stewing.

“I will free the other tribes.”

It was a promise Nomin intended to keep.

Chapter Text

A campfire, nearly burnt out and left to the cold to smolder till it was naught but ash and charcoal. That was all Nomin found when she finally arrived at the destination that had been suggested to her by some of the local guards stationed about Dragonhead. It was not what she had hoped for, not with the task asked of her to find the fugitive at large.

Fwump!

The sound of something falling to the ground close by had alerted Nomin, and she quickly turned toward the source. A man, clad in obsidian black armor, had leapt from a nearby ledge and landed on the ground with practiced poise. Of course, the one thing that Nomin noticed above everything else was the lance he wielded.

"That Ishgard would resort to sending coin-starved adventurers after me… I know not whether to laugh or feel insulted." The armored man rose to his feet before spinning his lance forward and pointing it at Nomin. Of course, such a sight caused her to furrow her brow and adjust her stance so that she might be quick to draw upon her bow and arrows.

His words indicated the truth of the matter. He really was the one she had been looking for as requested by Alberic: Estinien Wyrmblood.

Before anything could happen, however, a brilliant light shined forth. It was blinding enough to where Nomin instead shielded her eyes from the sudden shine. On the other hand, it seemed Estinien was more surprised by the fact that whatever it was shined at all.

"Th-The Eye! It rouses…for another!?"

When the light had faded, the two were left standing there. Though Nomin could not see Estinien’s expression from behind his helm, there seemed to be this sense of irritation as he mounted his lance upon his back once more.

“Preposterous…” That all but confirmed his irritation.

“Our paths shall cross again. You can be sure of it.” After this declaration, Estinien braced himself before leaping high into the air and onto the mountainside. Nomin watched after him, her expression changing from her own form of annoyance to being simply impressed with the jump made.

After he had disappeared completely from sight, Nomin’s expression fell to a contemplative frown as she folded her arms over her chest. She had almost forgotten about the biting cold of the land at that moment.

Just how soon would they cross paths again when it had already been such a wild goose chase just to find him the first time?

A fortnight had passed, and Nomin continued her time in Coerthas, helping where she could. Be it at the request of Haurchefant, the Scions, or other people that required aid, Nomin did her best to remain able and willing to see to the tasks that needed doing. It was only by Haurchefant’s elated stories and praise of her that people began more readily accepting her help.

Despite everything else she did in the way of training or helping others, that interaction lingered in the back of Nomin’s mind. It was enough to keep her on her toes on most days, and up at night at the worst. Was she to expect him in unexpected places? Just when and where would she and Estinien cross paths again?

Sat by a fire and nursing a mug of hot cider, Nomin had been staring intently into the flames when she was pulled from her mindless staring.

It started with the crunch of snow before she realized the clinking of chainmail. When Nomin looked, it was Ser Alberic who approached her. He wore a warm expression on his face as he took a seat next to her, his eyes drifting to the enclosed fire in its dome of stone.

“It is pleasing to see how readily the dragon stirs within you. You show great potential, Nomin -- a potential that may well prove the difference between victory and defeat,” Alberic spoke after a time. When Nomin glanced over at him, her eyes tired, he continued. “Estinien is no ordinary dragoon. Even when set against the legendary Azures of ages past, the man is considered second to none. Such is his prowess, in fact, that the day he was chosen by the Eye, it was proclaimed that Haldrath the Dragonseye had been reborn.”

Nomin gave a silent snort into her mug.

Now why did that sound familiar?

‘Broken Scale…she fights with the strength of Chakha herself! Were she Dotharl, I would believe her to be the very reincarnation!’

“I mean not to disparage your skills, Nomin, but to pursue Estinien in your current state would be tantamount to suicide.”

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

“Do you know the trials I’ve faced before coming here from the Far East?”

Obsession . Every routine. Every movement. Every tactic. Every strength. Every flaw. Observed and noted to break free of the shackles the Jhungid bound her and others with.

“Or do you speak thusly because I am not of these lands and am in fact spat on by the very Ishgardians Estinien himself fled from?”

‘Look at her…horns and tail…and scales, besides! Dragonspawn, I’m sure of it. Best not to consort or be seen with the likes of her.’

“Because you hear the same whispers -- albeit perhaps spoken more plainly? That I am a heretic or dragonspawn?”

‘Vile heretic! Begone with you! I’d rather die than be helped by your hands!’

Alberic fell silent, a finger tapping on the bench as he thought about his next words.

“I merely wish you to be on equal footing when, not if, you face Estinien.” Alberic’s tone had softened as he readjusted the focus in which he spoke. “But you are right in that I know not of the trials and tribulations you have faced before coming to Eorzea. You have my apologies for insinuating otherwise.”

The two of them sat in silence. Nomin continued to sup upon her cider, and Alberic kept his gaze upon the flames that burned.

“Though I remain ignorant…” Alberic started. “Perhaps I have an inkling as to why the Eye took a shine to you. Even if you may not want to learn the way of the Dragoon -- I suppose it matters little at the end of the day. If you are chosen by the Eye, so be it. None of us can change that. At least allow me to aid in showing you what to prepare for.”

Nomin turned her head only slightly to glance at Alberic. Letting out a sigh that clouded into steam in the Coerthan cold, she gave a shallow nod.

“It would be foolish of me not to accept that,” Nomin replied.

“If you would humor me, then,” Alberic shifted on the seat before reaching over and tossing a loose piece of firewood into the pit. “It is only fitting that you are edified regarding our origins as Azure Dragoon.”

Chapter Text

“So…Faunehm is freed of her madness…” Nomin started to say, walking alongside Estinien and Orn Khai. The sun was beginning to dip down below the horizon. The reds and oranges were so much starker here than Eorzea as it cast its warm glow down upon the land.

“Indeed…” Estinien said in response.

Nomin paused in her step. Not long after, both Estinien and Orn Khai paused as well.

“And you?” Nomin asked, looking at Estinien with a curious gaze. “You leave Ishgard with not so much as a word to anyone else. I cannot say it particularly gladdens me to see you -- in my homeland, besides… You are truly shed of Nidhogg’s influence?”

“... Aye. I spoke true when I said my past experiences with Nidhogg made me eager to see Faunehm saved. Truer still that it was -- and is -- my intention to act as intermediary between man and dragon.” Estinien let out a low sigh, his arms coming to be folded across his chest. “I retain my sense of self, even now, Warrior of Light.”

“ Nomin .”

“Aye, aye. Nomin .”

Orn Khai flitted between them as an awkward silence filled the air, his curiosity growing as he soon descended upon Nomin’s head and gently perched himself upon her shoulders. Tucking his wings back, he rested his hands upon the top of her head and gazed up at the darkening skies. He had opted to stick with them for a while longer while his parents had rejoiced in their reunion.

A more irritated sigh left Estinien after the silence seemed to have grated even him. He raised his gauntleted hand and pointed at Nomin.

“And you ? Your eyes never betrayed oceans of strife and sorrow behind them -- nor did they betray the roiling hatred and lust for vengeance you craved. But never have I seen them more in the storm’s wake than now -- here in the Azim Steppe.” Estinien’s tone was firm, his brow furrowed. He knew that there was something else. “What is it that is here that made the Eye react to you those years ago?”

Nomin flinched, part of her recoiling from Estinien himself, another from his words. She had never been aware that he saw that much in her. She always thought him too blinded by his own rage and obsession to see hers.

It was perhaps in spite of the fact that he had those emotions that when they finally subsided, he saw hers.

Nomin grounded herself and did what she could to calm her emotions. For what right did he have to that part of her past? Two years, and here he was, asking questions she grew somewhat indignant over.

No…he deserved something. S omething given their experience and being at the forefront of ending the Dragonsong War. He earned that much. And once Nomin rationalized it in her mind, she closed her eyes momentarily before looking around for somewhere to sit. Once a flat outcropping had been found, and Nomin was no longer on her feet, she reached up and motioned for Orn Khai to settle next to her.

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

Estinien gave a shrug, his frown creasing. “Answer. Or don’t. Everything within you is ultimately yours to deal with. I would rather not turn my lance against you in time, however. Know, however, that with mine own experience, I do not wish to see you fall victim to the same fate I had. You surely have much and more ahead of you, Warri-- Nomin .”

His sentiment would have been touching if Nomin had not still felt some form of dislike for him. Despite, or perhaps because of, her expression of wanting to become friends for Alphinaud’s sake. She had been willing to do what she could to see their past stay in the past. Though his disappearance from Ishgard and with no word that had been given led her to believe that she would have never seen him again.

Would it have been better that way? Nomin had no idea.

However, she gathered herself and sighed. She had decided to humor him. To what extent, she supposed she would find out.

“If Nidhogg was looking for a vessel so threaded with the anguish that balled into the yarn of hatred and vengeance, I would have been the next best thing next to you. I would be lying if I said I did not wonder what would have happened if Nidhogg took control of me instead of you.”

She was stalling on answering the initial question. Estinien knew this as well as he folded his arms back over his chest and slightly narrowed his eyes at Nomin. Normally, he would not have bothered, but given their history with one another…he had clearly been equal parts annoyed and concerned.

“He would have preyed upon my obsession, certainly…” Nomin continued. She was working on getting her bearings -- her nerve -- to reveal what she could to someone she no longer despised. “I am not shed of my own past hurts, this I will admit. Being back here…it dredges up many memories. Some good…many bad. Then there are some that I would prefer to forget altogether, but I just…can’t.”

Nomin heard the metallic clinking of Estinien’s armor as he strode forward to meet with her and then take a spot upon the surface of the rock close by. He stayed ever silent, however, allowing for Nomin to eventually get to where she was going. Much as it exasperated a part of him.

“The biggest thing I can never forget, especially being here…” Nomin shook her head, keeping her gaze pointed away from both Estinien and Orn Khai both. “My brother…his last moments before he was struck down before my very eyes.”

Her heart thumped dully and painfully in her chest.

“His desperate attempt to get me to run.”

She could feel the arrow fletching between her fingers all over again. The taut feeling of the string being pulled back. The angry release of both arrow and scream.

“But…I didn’t. And…” Nomin paused, eyes darting from grass blade to grass blade as memories replayed in her mind. “And so I was taken and made to be a warrior for his killers. Stripped of my tribe of the time -- stolen from my sister who could only imagine what happened to me after.”

Nomin rested her hands at either side of her and curled her fingers tightly against the stone.

“Did you ever meet her again after?” Orn Khai’s voice spoke through and into their minds, curious and probing. He had raised his gaze up at Nomin as he adjusted himself to lay half of himself in her lap.

“... I…” Nomin started in response. She frowned and then sighed. “No. I tried. I saw her before I left the Steppe. But I just…I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Orn Khai edged more into Nomin’s lap

“Shame. Uncertainty. Lingering sorrows…” Nomin said, offering simple responses that felt relevant at first. “The last time I had seen her, it was before our brother was stolen away from us by the tribe of Jhungid. I was scared to face her. Scared to know her words. Scared by the very notion that she would reject me -- blame me -- because of Esenaij’s death. I was scared of the potential of knowing that one person that loved me as family no longer did.”

She had long to think about why she never faced Bayarmaa. Why she left Turakina instead with a message for Bayarmaa.

Nomin scoffed, her gaze distant.

“It pains me all the time when I think about how I desperately wanted to see her again -- to think that I would be safe with her again when I was with the Jhungid. It pains me further that once I was free of them, I thought it best to simply…leave. Was I right? Was I wrong? I still find myself terrified of a solid answer.”

Silence washed over them again, and all that greeted them was a gentle breeze that flowed over the land. It was refreshing. Crisp. Rolling in from the Tail Mountains and bringing its gentle chill with it.

“I would suggest that before you face her, perhaps you should face yourself…” Estinien suggested, his eyes pointed in the direction of the ever towering Dawn Throne. He had started removing the clasps of his gauntlets.

“What do you mean?” Nomin asked.

“Far be it for me to inquire as to your reasons…” Estinien began in response. He had removed his gauntlets and placed them to the side of him. Reaching over, he rubbed a finger across Nomin’s horn, removing a loose layer of flaking paint from it.

However, Nomin herself had felt her neck and cheeks flush hot as a blush rushed up. She swatted his arm away and quickly got up, displacing Orn Khai back into flapping his wings and remaining airborne. Nomin could only look at Estinien with a look of disbelief as to his actions.

“Explain yourself!” Nomin demanded, her tail twitching and curling off to the right. The only grace she had at the moment was knowing as the sky darkened the land, so too did her blush remain hidden.

“Temper yourself,” Estinien replied, furrowing his brow. He then turned over his finger, now blackened by flaky paint. “‘Twas loose. I did not think it would elicit such a response.”

Nomin stared, her mouth falling slightly agape. She was in disbelief more than anything.

“Do…what do you think that is ?” Nomin asked. In her mind, she believed that Estinien thought what coated his finger were flaking scales.

“Paint, clearly.”

Nomin huffed and folded her arms over her chest. So she had been wrong. Regardless, her frown deepened as she said: “I must ask you never ever, ever touch my horns or scales ever again.”

Chapter Text

Shrrrk… Shrrrk… Shrrrk…

The idle sounds of a blade being sharpened at a whetstone filled the otherwise quiet air. Nomin stood at a table with a halberd blade in the shade of the weapons storage yurt, diligently at work. It had not been the ideal job, but it was one she volunteered for in order to have time for herself.

The Naadam had come and gone, which only meant one thing now.

Shrrrk… Shrrrk… Shrrrk…

Battle between the Jhungid and the Kharlu was soon to commence. Blades must be sharpened, arrows must be made, horses prepared, and bodies tempered. All this to meet at the coastal battlegrounds to take claim over the lands for the year. There was no khaghan they would listen to that would tell them otherwise. Then again, after generations…

Shrrrk--

Nomin paused in sharpening the steel blade of the halberd and looked at its sheen. She admired its glint in the sunlight and took up a cloth to wipe the moisture from it. It was sharp enough, she determined.

This had become routine over the last few days as the Jhungid Orda had been abuzz with would-be triumphant warriors making claim that they would fell many Kharlu when the battle started. Of course, Nomin had kept to herself for the most part, only really speaking to the others from the Sagahl when free time permitted.

She took up the shift, feeling its weight in her hand before working on affixing the newly sharpened blade to it. Once done, she felt its weight again, twirling it slowly around herself to make sure the blade was tightly bound.

It would have been so easy…so entirely easy to have taken it and sunk it into the chest of the weapons overseer. Nothing was stopping her.

Nothing.

Tightening her hold on the shaft, she walked toward the weapons rack and laid it within an empty slot.

‘It’s not time… Remember that Esenaij told you that you’re impatient. Don’t act on it…’ Nomin thought to herself.

She reached for another halberd and took a seat. Routine had taken over as she unfastened the blade from its shaft so that she might sharpen it. It was boring tedium -- tedium that spanned well over than it should have, being one of the only ones consistently caring for the weapons. Pureblood Jhungid had come and gone, leaving the work to those subjugated and absorbed.

"Nomin?" The gentle voice had gone unheard at first. Nomin's mind had been focused on not only the sharpening of the blade, but plans and other routines as well. It was only when the owner of the voice had entered Nomin’s peripheral view that she looked up to see Checheyigen on the opposite side.

"Ch-Che…what is it?" Nomin asked, slowly grinding her work to a halt. "Nothing bad, I trust?"

"Not at all!" Checheyigen replied, giggling softly. To hear her laugh at all was some modicum of relief to Nomin. At least some members of the Sagahl had some peace of mind or comfort to express themselves.

Nomin watched as Checheyigen adjusted the bag that had been slung over her shoulder and dug around in it. Before long, she had produced a small cloth bundle and unwrapped it. Within sat a small loaf of…well, bread that Nomin was not quite familiar with. It was moist, and from the look of it, crumbled relatively easily.

“What is it?” Nomin asked, putting down the halberd blade on the table and leaning over to dip both her hands in the water to clean them of whatever might have been on them. Drying her hands with a different cloth, she reached over for a bit of the bread.

“Turakina got to speak with one of the traders here and offered them one of the books we have been working on of Sagahl methods of cultivation…” Checheyigen started, grinning before looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping and then leaning in to whisper. “They had some goods from Kugane! Turakina got two of these out of the trade -- cakes made with recipes from the west! This one’s made with chocolate and little bits of apricot!”

Chocolate Nomin had heard of before, and she could scarcely remember the flavor of it. She had only had it once before when Esenaij had returned one day from Reunion and brought it back claiming it was more for Bayarmaa than it had been for her. Apricot, on the other hand, Nomin had been plenty familiar with.

Though Nomin’s stomach did churn with hunger, she hesitated to take a slice.

“It wouldn’t be fair to Chotan nor Khulan if they haven’t gotten something first…” Nomin said, thinking of the other Sagahl teen and child.

“Don’t worry… Turakina gave the other one to Chotan that she might share it with Khulan. She bade me look for you to share this with since I’m helping to get the arrows made in the area over…” Checheyigen replied. “So dig in! I certainly will.”

A small smile made its way onto Nomin’s lips as she allowed a small scoff to leave her. She reached forward and took one of the slices and took a bite. The chocolatey taste mixed with the mild sweetness of apricot was heavenly -- nearly intoxicating. It had been so rare to get something that tasted good when it came to food among the Jhungid that such a treat had to be savored.

“By night’s good graces…” Nomin moaned softly before taking another bite, the tip of her tail curling with delight. Almost excitedly, she went on to say, “no way can we let this be taken away by the Jhungid. Keep the rest with you, and we can save it for tonight and morning. The others we share a ger with will also like it, I bet.”

“That’s what I was thinking!” Checheyigen replied, eagerly taking up a slice and biting into it. She, too, let out a sound of delight at the taste, careful not to be too loud. “It’ll be nice to have just a night of something nice.”

Chapter Text

Days traveling the Steppe’s rivers thanks to those of the Orben had been an interesting experience to have said the least for Nomin. Since Horse and Wild Sun had been taken, it was one of the only ways that they could traverse that had its advantages over walking to and from places. Not to mention, it helped with searching different places where the two stallions might have been stolen away to.

Arik, in particular, had been pretty broken up about Wild Sun having gone missing versus Nomin’s rather blasé take on Horse’s disappearance. Truthfully, Nomin had been more upset about losing a lot of their belongings over the horses. It had been to a point that Arik had not really sought out discussion too much with Nomin as they shared a boat with one of the Orben tribe members they -- well, Nomin -- had made pretty fast friends with.

The Orben had a method and order to their migrations to keep their boats from knocking into one another. Their host’s boat had been relatively close to the front -- third in line of the van. Where most boats held the owners’ families and belongings, their host had…mostly himself and his own belongings.

“We are nearing where the Hak Khaal converges with the Nem Khaal. The waters have seen us swiftly these past few days…” their Orben peer had mentioned, lifting his oar from the water and staring ahead. He looked between both Nomin and Arik, both who had been notably quiet for a good portion of their trip since the Orben had been on migration.

Nomin pulled her hand from idly splashing in the water, her form straightening so that she was no longer slumped over the lip of the boat. She looked over at their Orben host, an only slightly curious look befalling her face before she turned and looked back at Arik to gauge his attention. After all, it seemed as if their boat driver had more to say…

“With the storms that have washed over the lands in recent time…” the Orben’s expression grew perplexed as he frowned. “We may be in for some rather rough waters. Especially as the rivers meet.”

“Is there anything we should expect, Begter?” Nomin asked, more willing to make conversation than Arik had been.

Begter sighed, soon drawing his oar back into the water as he thought about his answer. Paddling, he finally responded, “if you are not quite familiar, we shall be approaching river rapids. It is like that Borte khatun leading the van will want to traverse through them so as not to waste more time. We are already behind schedule as it is, unfortunately.”

“Are they particularly dangerous?”

“Pending on the weather, yes. For those of us still green in the ways of the rivers, absolutely. Whatever I have in the boat, I shall ask of you both to secure with rope and canvas if they are not put away in the compartment below our very feet. As for the safety of you both…well…” Begter have a cursory glance about the boat and continued his paddling. “I would say simply to brace yourselves away from the edges of the boat. We won’t want to capsize, especially in the thick of it. You will both have to listen to my directions in the midst of the rapids so that we keep the weight within here distributed.”

“Got it…” Nomin replied. She then looked back at Arik. “How about you? Did you get all of that?”

Her words were more to ensure that he had the information. He had been quiet and out of it for some time. Given that he had often been despondent and distant in recent time, Nomin had expressed patience to the best of her ability. At the very least, she could somewhat empathize with how he felt, given that Wild Sun had been more or less a reward from his trial with the Noykin -- much like Horse had been a reward for Nomin’s false devotion to the Jhungid’s cause.

“Hm? Oh…” Arik looked up from gazing out at the lands they passed, turning his attention toward Nomin, and then to Begter. “Sorry. I thought you were simply talking to Nomin, not me.”

“It is no problem of mine, friend,” Begter replied. He had taken the time to explain to Arik what he did to Nomin about the rivers meeting and what the recent storms meant for them. Once it seemed that Arik understood and knew what to do, the rest of the trip had returned to being quiet and filled mostly with the sounds of running water. Only every now and then were distant conversations and laughter heard among other members of the Orben.

To fill the silence, or perhaps because it was what he had been used to, Begter had started to sing as they continued on their way. It was no song that Nomin recognized, but it was something nice nonetheless. However, the more that Begter sung, the more that the others -- whether it was from the boat in front of him, or the boats behind, other members of the Orben had joined in song.

Fair flowing waters do guide us so

Wherever the river decides to go

Under Azim’s bright and guiding light

Or under Nhaama’s darkest night

O guide us through water’s wrath

O guide us through water’s wrath

Let us sail along the right path

O guide us through water’s wrath

For our vessel we give a part of us

That our scales may be our aegis

To brave the waters calm or tumultuous

We carry on through the waters thus

O guide us through water’s wrath

O guide us through water’s wrath

Let us sail along the right path

O guide us through water’s wrath

It was, Nomin realized, a song asking for a blessing to pass through the waters unimpeded or in safety. Reaching over, she fished out her sketch journal from what belonging she did have along with a piece of writing charcoal. She committed the words of the song to a blank page where she kept other such notes and little observations in text form.

A bell or so passed, and though Begter had shifted to singing other songs a little more whimsical in nature, he had a steeled air about him. For good reason, too…for even Nomin had looked up and observed her surroundings once the pace of the boat had picked up and the sound of the water’s currents had become much louder.

Without hesitation, Nomin had gone to do as Begter asked of her and Arik, taking canvas and spreading it over the loose items within his boat. There were fastens where rope was to be tied, and both Nomin and Arik had seen to securing what belongings there were so they did not get jostled out of the boat and lost to the river’s waters. Once everything looked to have been good enough, Nomin took a seat away from the edge, her hands braced against her seat. Arik had done the same, though his expression seemed a tad more uncertain than Nomin’s had been.

As had been told to them, the waters were rough, though Nomin seemed to have underestimated how rough they would have been. Begter’s voice had nearly been washed away with the water itself, though with his years and lifestyle among his people, shouting instructions seemed to have come with being Orben. It was thanks to this that Nomin and Arik were able to have proper guidance to prepare themselves and keep the boat from capsizing.

Each time it felt like the boat was to topple over, or each time the boat had been sharply turned upward along the water, Nomin could swear that her own stomach had been turning and flipping with fear. For all that she had learned in her time foraging, training, and fighting…this certainly had to be one of the scariest experiences thus far. Especially considering she had never been taught to swim.

Even more surprising, and perhaps even nauseatingly so to Nomin, were the sounds of laughter and whoops from other members of the Orben. She could not wrap her head around how this was supposed to be fun . Riding on the back of a galloping horse -- that was fun! Sliding down a sandy dune -- also fun! Whatever this was, however, was not fun.

The ride through the rapids felt like it took bells to finally resolve, and when it did, Nomin just sat there in her spot on the boat. She had to take time to mentally process everything that had happened. Once her breath had finally stabilized from the excitement, Nomin looked over at Arik, who seemed to have taken the entire thing far better than she had. Then again, she had to remember that the Dotharl always did tout that phrase ‘we do not fear death.’

Begter’s gentle laughter was heard after a time, and Nomin looked over in his direction briefly

“I trust that the two of you are alright,” Begter said, calming himself as he spoke.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. Nothing seems out of…the ordinary…” Nomin replied, slowly getting herself moving to make sure that nothing really was bruised or worse. Aside from the lingering adrenaline that had overstayed its welcome, she felt okay for the most part.

“I’m fine myself,” Arik said, his tone quieter than Nomin’s. He had resumed his idle staring out toward the scenery. So long as Wild Sun was not with them, it seemed, his mind was elsewhere.

“Very good…because now we must make our way toward Reunion, where we are like to trade off some of our goods before going back to our migration. With luck, and I hope Azim or Nhaama both give you plenty of it, someone will have seen your horses there,” Begter said, genuine in his words.

“Here’s to hoping for the best on that front,” Nomin concurred with a sigh.

Chapter Text

Alone she sat, away from the crowd, away from the celebration.

Alone she kept to herself, her mind elsewhere from the joyous people that now celebrated their liberation.

Doma was free.

Ala Mhigo was free.

Alone.

Alone…

She chose this.

In her mind, she saw the Malaguld Iloh as she remembered it nearly a decade ago.

In her heart, she remembered how heavy and full to bursting it felt.

Alone.

She needed to be alone.

Alone was how she kept others safe and prevented them from getting hurt.

Prevented herself from getting hurt.

Alone…

Alone was such a painful feeling.

Chapter Text

Nomin stared in the full-length mirror and turned from side to side, looking herself over. She was dressed down into her smallclothes, her and her auri features reflecting back at her. She had not really bothered much to think about the clothing that she donned on most occasions. For surely if the clothing were breathable and allowed for her freedom of movement, she cared little so long as they saw her from one point to the next without too much hindrance.

However, when she told Tataru of her private invitation to having dinner with the Lord Commander, Ser Aymeric, she immediately waved her hands in denial when Nomin mentioned she would simply meet him as is. In response to her surprise, Tataru had dug around in her belongings in the room they shared at the Fortemps Manor and pulled out a sketchbook of her own.

“I will not have you meeting with the Lord Commander in such a dowdy looking ensemble, Nomin! Why, look at you! Tears and holes in the cloth from fires and simply the wear of travel…” Tataru had said, a firm frown set upon her face as she flipped through her sketchbook for a blank page. Nomin had only watched, looking at her designs with interest before Tataru had waved her hand and shooed Nomin away from looking further into her works.

So now, Nomin found herself still staring at herself in the full-length mirror before sighing and taking a seat on her bed’s edge. Tataru had gotten her measurements and took them with her before leaving to the Jeweled Crozier. In the interim, Nomin had dressed herself comfortably in the loose-fitting sleepwear that had been provided by the Fortemps Manor’s staff.

“I will not keep you wanting nor waiting… Wait here and I shall be back in two shakes of a karakul’s tail with an array of outfits for you to choose from!”

Of course, Nomin had never opted to go with Tataru nor Alphinaud when it came to browsing the Jeweled Crozier. Even now that there was peace between man and dragon

Nomin’s eyes went to the grandfather chronometer, looking at the hands and doing her best to remember what Timbermaster Beatin had taught her about reading the hands. If she was correct, Tataru had been gone for nearly a bell and a half. This in mind, she tapped her thumbs together while watching the pendulum swing from side to side, each tick that filled the silence slowly grating within her horns.

Tick… Tock… Tick…

Whumpf!

Standing suddenly, Nomin looked toward the door that had swung open. Tataru came marching through with a pleased expression on her face. Behind her were one of the manservants in the employ of House Fortemps, and in his hold were several neatly tied packages. They were nearly akin to gifts that Nomin had come to see residents of Gridania give to one another when it came time for the Starlight Celebration.

“You are quite in for a treat, Nomin!” Tataru said, making her arrival even more pronounced. Nomin could only gawk at both her and the number of boxes.

“What… what did you buy , Tataru?” Nomin asked, feeling a swelling feeling of guilt that Tataru would go out of her way to go shopping for her.

“Oh, just some gowns from some of the finest Ishgardian artisans in the Jeweled Crozier!” Tataru was bursting with pride. “I went ahead and found some things that should fit you. I also took your aversion to the cold into account, and there are several coats that I thought would go well with several of the gowns and outfits that I chose or even had recommended to me.”

For a moment, Nomin opened her mouth to protest, but she instead looked back into the mirror. At herself.

Dropping the tension in her shoulders, Nomin slouched before slowly drawing her hands together.

“... Does it not feel…inappropriate?” she asked, frowning a little more deeply as the look in her eyes grew distant.

“Hm? What’s on your mind?” Tataru asked, getting some of the boxes and packages set aside.

“This whole…dinner thing. Does it not feel inappropriate to tend to such a thing? I could…I could understand a celebration being warranted, but…” Nomin took a breath and sighed, walking to her bed to take up the sheet upon and then draping it over the mirror. She turned her attention to Tataru. “Estinien still yet slumbers in the infirmary, recovering from his ordeal. And…I feel like…Alphinaud and even myself -- you…?”

Nomin found herself stumbling over her words. She struggled to get her thoughts into something coherent.

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

Tataru slowed and paused in her organization before looking up at the manservant and asking him to go. After he had obliged, he left whilst closing the door behind him. Tataru’s expression had fallen, and she sighed before approaching Nomin.

“... Just because you have one nice dinner for one night…it does not mean that you have no right to mourn, nor experience the feelings you have right now,” Tataru gently said. She reached up and brushed her fingers against Nomin’s elbow before Nomin had turned her attention toward her. All Tataru could do in that moment as she looked into the sad expression that greeted her was offer a reassuring smile. “I know it can be hard. Why, I worried my hair would fall out fretting over you and Alphinaud, going out on your mission to find common ground between Ishgard and Dravanian.”

“... I’m sorry…” Nomin replied, sniffling as she brought a hand up to wipe whatever tears were there away from her eyes. “I can only imagine what you must have gone through, waiting for us as you did.”

“And you both still came back, and you are both as fine as can be. That is all I can ask for.” Tataru then hugged herself to Nomin’s leg. “If you need time to mourn, ask no permission for it, Nomin. If you wish me to leave so that you can, by all means, tell me. But please do not keep it all inside -- do not keep walking forward with this notion that you are not allowed to do that.”

Nomin’s breath stuttered as she breathed in. Curling her head downward, her hands clenched into fists as she allowed the tears to flow freely from her eyes. Though she did not wail, nor vocalize her sobs, she cried. She felt the overwhelming loss in her heart for everything that had been taken from her -- everything that was threatened to have been taken away.

‘Oh, do not look at me so… A smile better suits a hero.’

She remembered holding Haurchefant’s body in her arms. One of the only people who looked past who she was on the surface. She remembered…she remembered… The warm feeling of his blood soaking her clothes. The way he tensed and staved off his pain, all to look at her and everyone else around him with one last smile.

‘Farewell, Warrior of Light. And thank you -- for showing me the way…’

She remembered the bite and chill of Azys Lla’s clime as it stung her face. Nomin could remember the unsettling clouds that surrounded her and the airship everyone else had boarded. She remembered the awe-inspiring form of Hraesvelgr as he tore through the skies to aid them, Ysayle riding upon his back before her final transformation. Her final hurrah to allow them access to their destination before she disappeared under the sea of clouds.

Falling to her knees, Nomin finally mourned. All that Tataru could do was take this moment to stay close, wrapping her arms around Nomin’s grieving form as she hugged herself.

Chapter Text

Back on the Source… Nomin stepped out and looked out at the features of Mor Dhona. Though she had been back on occasion to and from the Source and the First, this was the first time her being back felt significant. With her, she carried the most precious cargo she could ever be afforded at that moment -- the soul-infused auracite that held each of the Scions. Her companions. Her friends.

Closing her eyes, Nomin remembered that Horse was somewhere around here. He had been in safe keeping with one of the stable keeps in the area. If he were roaming for a time, then surely…

Nomin lifted her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly. Her whistle had brief pauses and then a long, rising tone that echoed across the land. The same whistle that called Horse to her when she was on the Steppe and he had roamed free. All that was left to do was wait.

Closing her eyes, Nomin patiently waited. She counted in her head, and then opened her eyes as she heard the eager neighing of Horse as he galloped across the crystalized lands toward her. He slowed from gallop to trot till he eventually paused in front of Nomin and bowed his head to her a couple times in greeting.

“Hi there, my friend,” Nomin greeted in turn, happily approaching Horse and holding out her hand to him. She then dug around in her bag and pulled out an apple, red and ripe for Horse to smell. He lipped it before biting and eagerly pulling it away from Nomin’s hold. Small bits of apple fell from his mouth, and Nomin could only giggle softly.

“I do hope you enjoyed that treat. Come now…my friends must need tending to…” Nomin said, tracing her hand along Horse’s neck and then shoulders before she, like so many times in the past, hoisted herself up onto his back. He had no saddle, no reins -- only trust and leg strength would have to keep Nomin anchored.

Tapping her heels into Horse, Nomin pressed her hands against the base of his neck. She used her weight and some firm tells against his neck and shoulders to direct him back to Revenant’s Toll before she clicked her tongue and urged him back into a gallop with a ‘hyah!’ Together they traveled, and all the while, Nomin brought a hand over to clutch her bag to her chest, holding it tightly. Holding her friends tightly.

Nomin quickly dismounted Horse as soon as he ran through the portcullis of Revenant’s Toll. With the momentum, she staggered forward before she picked up with the pace and sprinted into the Seventh Heaven. She ignored the patrons and the staff, shifting and moving through them like water, her steps only guided by the aid of her Echo revealing the people within her surroundings so that she could make it back into the Rising Stones.

She flew down the steps past the entry door, and like the patrons, Nomin ignored other members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that were within. Though she could feel their gazes fix themselves upon her, Nomin hurried along before stopping and catching her breath in front of Tataru.

“K… Krile…” Nomin managed. “Get… Krile. I have… Night preserve… I have them.”

Tataru met Nomin with an expression of confused concern. Though Nomin panted and did everything she could to stabilize her breathing, she took her bag and thrust it forward, the soul-infused auracite within being heard clinking together. She reiterated: “I have them…”

In that moment, Tataru’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her ear, activating the Scion linkshell.

The Rising Stones had become abuzz with Nomin’s arrival, and Krile had run out of the Dawn’s Respite shortly after Tataru informed her of everything. Even if Nomin still breathed deep and in a practiced manner to collect herself, she and Krile went back into the Dawn’s Respite where the other Scions laid locked in a slumber not of their own choosing. Lifeless husks without their souls.

“Thank the ever vast night they’re all still okay…” Nomin said. With both hers and Krile’s Echoes at work, the auracite pieces and getting them set next to each of their respective owners was simple enough. However, when Krile checked in Nomin’s bag, there was one more left within.

It was one more that felt familiar. Precious. This auracite was a friend; a close one at that.

Krile ran her hand along it before her breath caught in her throat.

“... Raha?” Krile whispered. She then turned her gaze toward Nomin, her expression speaking for itself the surprise upon it. “Why…Why do you have Raha’s soul as well?”

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

Krile seemed almost reluctant, her gaze going down toward the auracite. However, she eventually relented and walked toward Nomin, offering her the auracite with a nod. “Do tell him upon waking that I have some choice words for him.”

Though Krile spoke with a hint of playfulness to her expression, her tone seemed to indicate some level of frustration. Taking the auracite with a continued sheepish look to her, Nomin nodded. Given what she knew of miqo’te culture, it seemed that G’raha and Krile were close friends, not that she had ever known that till now. Chuckling nervously, she then replied, “yes, of course. Keep an eye on everyone; I’ll be back before you know it!”

Chapter Text

Night hung over Eorzea -- just as it had so many nights before. Nomin, however, kept her gaze pointed up at the stars and inky black and purple of their eternal backdrop. She would have never thought to take the cover of night for granted -- it had always been assured in her years of traversing the star.

Time on the First and dealing with the Light that had plagued it really made her appreciate the cool night that she basked in at that very moment. Granted, she had a wool blanket wrapped around her, though with such a clear night to gaze upon the stars, dealing with some night chill had been more than worth it.

"I would think you would be more inclined to spend time with everyone now that we have returned from Ul’dah." The voice was familiar, and Nomin tensed briefly before she looked back behind her. Sure enough, Estinien had been approaching the spot she had claimed for herself on the stone walkway not far from Rowena's café.

Like herself, he was dressed down into something less bulky and more for leisurely comfort. Or…leisurely comfort as either of them had really come to make the definition fit themselves.

Nomin scoffed and turned her attention back toward the sky.

“Well…” Nomin started, lacing her fingers together. “I can’t really say I’ve been too keen to keep myself in the company of others late as it is. All the excitement in recent time, everyone needs to rest, or at least take time to tend to whatever business they have. I would only serve as a distraction, I feel.”

Though her words seemed to indicate that she would have preferred to have been alone, Nomin’s tone seemed to indicate a sense of relief that she did have someone to talk to at the very least. All things considered, Estinien may have been the best person to have a conversation with that lacked the monotony of recounting her experience and others knowing by virtue of having been there and lived through it themselves.

“Shall I take my leave, then?” Estinien asked.

Silence for a moment.

“... You can stay, if you’d like…” Nomin replied. There was a fleeting flutter in her stomach, and that nagging sense in her mind that did not want Estinien to leave. Despite their past with one another, despite the disdain she felt for him before…part of her could only think of the Ghimlyt Dark and her fuzzy memories. The feeling of Estinien carrying her to safety. The sound of his voice as he told her he was bringing her to Aymeric.

Nomin saw Estinien enter her peripheral view as he approached the half-wall and leaned forward.

“So… What are you doing up so late? Here of all places?” Nomin asked, turning slightly so that she was facing Estinien and giving him more of her attention.

“Like you, I decided to get away for myself.” Estinien glanced in Nomin’s direction. There had been something strange about how even her Echo reacted and tugged at her -- there was something there that she felt that she had not felt in the past with it when it came to Estinien. Warmth. Relief. Familiarity. Comfort?

“Only so long can I spend underground, surrounded by stone and idle conversation.” Estinien huffed a silent sigh, eyes scanning over what they could see of both Revenant’s Toll and the rest of Mor Dhona past its walls. “Besides, my time is better spent standing vigil. Ensuring that nothing comes to harm those here. You have enough to deal with, surely.”

“You should take the opportunity to rest…” Nomin said, turning back so that she was leaning on the wall again.

“Aye…as should you. Yet here we are.”

“Mm… Here we are.”

Silence once more, only broken up by the song of the occasional vilekin singing its nightly tune.

Moments passed, and Nomin slowly looked back at Estinien. She noted how he kept his gaze pointed forward, continuing to ensure that the lands below were bereft of enemies or other nasties. She then slowly reached over and poked his wrist gently with the tip of her finger.

“You can speak. There is no need for such acts in want of attention. ‘Tis only us here, after all,” Estinien said, not looking back at Nomin.

Nomin flinched slightly. Swallowing, she let out a breath and said, “... Aymeric told me that you saw me safely to him and some chirurgeons during the battle at Ghimlyt…”

“Aye. I did.”

That flutter came back, and Nomin’s heart skipped a beat with his affirmation. To have been so utterly defenseless and vulnerable within Estinien’s care had been something that left her with conflicted feelings -- even back when Aymeric had told her briefly of the events that had transpired.

Tapping her hand lightly on the stone surface of the wall, Nomin pursed her lips and slowly nodded as she collected both her thoughts and her feelings. This was the first time she had really had the time to really speak with Estinien since being whisked away to the First. She had nearly constantly thought about what Aymeric told her about how Estinien made sure she was safe and cared for.

“Um…well… Thank you. Really. I…I imagine we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t brought me back so that I might be aided and cared for.”

“‘Tis the least I could do, all things considered.” Estinien finally looked over at Nomin, his form looming over her as he stood back up and straightened his posture to some degree. “I could not very well leave you there as fires licked the field of battle. You were all but helpless when I chanced saw you. I would not -- will not -- stand idly by and allow you to be cut down like you were about to be when I intervened.”

Nomin’s lips twitched into being partially pursed as she looked up at Estinien. Part of her hated how she felt in that moment -- like a victim of a purbol’s paralytic poison. Part of her hated how her skin prickled and her face warmed at the sentiment. And then…there was a greater part of her that wanted to lean into those feelings, those emotions.

“I…see…” Nomin managed, doing her best to stonewall those emotions and keep them only in her mind. “If…if that was repayment for mine and Alphinaud’s removing you from Nidhogg’s grasp, consider it repaid.”

“Nay. ‘Twas not a debt I wished to repay.” Estinien’s gaze narrowed, his arms coming up to be folded over his chest. “I would do it again. Over and over. We have lost enough, Nomin, I shall lose no more and ensure no one loses any more if it is within my power to prevent it. With my mantle of Azure Dragoon retired and my mind and vision cleared, I would see myself aiding you and yours.”

What were these words ?

Nomin’s lips parted in surprise more than anything. She was also at a loss for words. How was she to respond to that? She had no idea, for her mind had been blank with only the slightest trickle of words that barely formed any kind of proper sentence of phrase.

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

“Aye, ‘tis the plan. Likewise, I would see you keep your aim sharp and your aether abundant.”

Chapter Text

“O mighty Nidhogg! Lord of Dragons!”

Nomin watched as Estinien slowly rose to his feet from his battered state after their battle with one another. Her hands trembled with fatigue around the lance she had taken from Alberic after the fight -- for Estinien had prevented her from having any opportunity past her first arrow to use her bow. She wondered what he had been doing as he raised his hands skyward.

Alberic had lurched forward, his hand outstretched and his face contorted to desperation. He was too late, though.

“Grant unto me thy blood, that I might be granted the claws and fangs wherewith to rend thine enemies!”

Nomin felt her yelp of surprise that caught in her throat as the sky above violently ripped open in a swirl of purple, pink, and black. She barely had time to process it as a dark beam shot down and engulfed Estinien, and then bathed the immediate area in a flood of white powder as the loose snow dispersed around them.

When the area cleared, Nomin had found herself in front of Alberic protectively. She had not remembered moving to place herself between them, but he had been at the forefront of her mind given Estinien’s earlier statement. His intent to cut Alberic down for defiling any trust that he had prior. However, as Nomin stood between the two, she felt a tug of surprise from Estinien.

“...Nomin!? Th-This is impossible! It cannot be!”

Without feeling as if she were in control, Nomin had leapt and struck at the ground. White aether shimmered and burst forth, and when it faded, Estinien had been nowhere to have been seen. All that was left were Nomin and Alberic both looking where he had last been standing. They both looked around, expecting Estinien to be somewhere , but their eyes caught neither hide nor hair of him.

“Forgive me, Estinien… I have failed you once again…” Alberic was heard saying. It was as if he expected the Coerthan wind to carry his apology to wherever Estinien disappeared to.

Turning toward Alberic, Nomin’s expression of concern and disappointment caused him to walk forward and offer a reassurance: “I am fine, Nomin. Somewhat shaken, but otherwise whole of body…”

Alberic’s brow knit together as he recollected the immediate past. He sighed, breath clouding and disappearing into the air. The sadness in his eyes told a myriad of stories and emotions that Nomin could only guess were swirling within him.

“... I can only hope that this meeting -- this conflict -- is not some sign of something portentous on the horizon.” Alberic said, gazing up to the sky above them where they witnessed the dark aether coalesce. “I have much to reflect upon, Nomin. Let us return to the Observatorium.”

Before Alphinaud and Nomin, Estinien had been transformed back into himself, his form kneeling and panting. He was still being used as a vessel by Nidhogg, the wyrm struggling to keep control with everything he had. The battle against Nidhogg had been arduous and fraught with great danger. However, Nomin had held firm with the aid of stalwart allies to the Scions and Ishgard to weaken the great wyrm that he was rendered back to the form of Estinien.

“Estinien!” Alphinaud called out. He had rushed forward a little ways, though not past Nomin, who was still poised for battle, her arrow drawn back and pointed at the possessed dragoon.

“Is this…to be…mine end?” Nidhogg’s worn, yet furious voice echoed within their minds. He forced Estinien’s body to stand back up in sheer defiance to the idea. “Nay… I will not allow it… I am of the first brood… I am vengeance incarnate… I am Nidhogg!”

Nomin clenched her jaw. Those were words that had resonated with her in some way, some fashion.

Obsessed …

Nomin saw herself in Estinien’s position. Saw herself being used and tormented. Saw herself being used as a weapon of hatred.

“Thou shalt die by my hand!” Nidhogg shouted through Estinien, raising the lance still within his grasp. He readied himself to lunge forward, or throw the lance forward, but was stopped. The red lines of corruption faded as Estinien fought for control.

“This is not your hand, wyrm!”

Whatever control Nidhogg still had forced Estinien’s hand open and thrust it at his throat. Nomin watched with some form of steeled resolve that hid her horror. She could only imagine the turmoil and conflict being waged within Estinien and Nidhogg was forcing him to choke himself.

She had no idea what to do. Should she have shot her arrow that was trained upon his form? End him?

Nomin gave the barest glance in Alphinaud’s direction.

‘No… I can’t. I can’t do that do him… Not after everything.’

Estinien’s desperate scream as he coughed up blood made Nomin’s blood run cold to match the air around her. She felt as a statue holding a bow and arrow -- poised, but unable to feel herself have control to let loose the arrow if the moment called for it. She was shocked.

“Thou…wilt… obey !” Nidhogg’s voice carried both in the air and within their minds.

Estinien -- whatever part of him was in control -- turned his gaze upward. He looked directly at Nomin. He saw her there: his only hope for salvation.

“I would ask one last favor of you, Warrior of Light… Finish me -- now, while I have the beast subdued!” Estinien begged.

‘ I̵̻͋ ̷̰͋c̷̝̔ā̷͇n̶͚͝'̵̨̀ṯ̶̃ ̴̡̓d̷̲̂o̸̙͐ ̸̧́t̷̡̋h̷̼̅a̷̤̓t̴̲͒ ̶̧͗t̸͓͠ȏ̴̗ ̸̗̃h̸͙͗i̵͕͛m̷̭̅.̶̦̅ ̴͕̽N̸̲̄o̷̞͋t̷̝́ ̴̼͌ä̸̡f̵̩́t̶̳͂e̶̙̕r̴͙̐ ̵̱̈́ë̵̗́v̴͎̐e̷̗̎ȑ̴͚ỵ̷́t̶͉͝ḥ̵̈́i̵̜͊n̶̪͗g̴̛̬!̵̰͌ ; Nomin desperately thought, regaining control over her limbs. She threw her bow and arrow down to the ground and charged forward in a sprint, resolve ever guiding her forward. Alphinaud had picked up on the intent and ran as fast as he could behind her.

Nomin slid to a halt onto her knees next to Estinien and forcefully grabbed the Eye that was embedded within his right arm while Alphinaud grabbed the Eye within Estinien’s left shoulder. As Nomin dug her fingers and nails deep into the socket and the Eye itself, corrupted aether spilled forth in a burst, crackling the air around them.

“You waste your time. Kill me! It is the only way! Ending Nidhogg…will be my final duty…” Estinien reiterated his desperate plea to be killed.

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

“You can’t die like this! I won’t let you!” Alphinaud cried above the crackle and thrum of corrupted aether.

The Eyes flashed gold before another burst of scorching, electrifying aether seared up both Nomin and Alphinaud’s hands and arms. Both gasped and screamed in pain, but their holds remained firm upon the Eyes. They were both resolved to remove them with all the power they had. Even with as hard as Nidhogg continued to fight them in what way he could.

Only a few moments longer of enduring the pain, the burn , surely they would have prised the Eyes free. However, a soothing feeling washed over both Nomin and Alphinaud. Familiar hands had placed themselves upon their own. When they looked, the visages of both Haurchefant and Ysayle greeted them. Warm, familiar, and both offering a peaceful smile that instilled a brimming sense of hope.

It was this that allowed both Nomin and Alphinaud to finally succeed -- to finally rip the accursed Eyes from Estinien. His mouth fell open as his screams of pain filled the air. So harrowing were they that Nomin still heard him ringing within her horns even after Nidhogg’s soul had been separated from Estinien’s body and soared ever heavensward.

“Undone by mortal will. Whither now…?” were Nidhogg’s last heard words before his form dispersed and faded.

Haurchefant and Ysayle had left back to the star, and Alphinaud had toppled over onto his back, Eye within his grasp. As for Estinien, he laid unconscious on the stone. Nomin looked at the Eye within her hand. Her gloves and half of her sleeves had burned away, and she could feel the stinging burn that ran from the palms of her hands all the way up to the bends of her elbows, wanting desperately for relief. Alphinaud, too, had suffered in much the same fashion.

Both of them had looked from Nidhogg’s Eyes to Estinien’s form. Both of them worried in some way that he had perished even with the efforts they expended to keep him alive.

“The Eyes! Cast them into the abyss!”

Collecting themselves after Aymeric’s voice had cut through the air, both Nomin and Alphinaud sprinted for one of the sides of the Steps of Faith before they both threw the Eyes out as far as they could.

The red orbs flew through the air before they plummeted down into the dark fog that roiled below, hopefully never to be seen again.

Chapter Text

Nomin had awoken early that morning, having been more than grateful for a warm and soft bed that night at the Roost. After several weeks traveling the road and riding a carriage, not to mention sailing across the Sirensong Sea all the way to Eorzea, that bed was a blessing from Nhaama if Nomin ever wanted to give thanks to the gods of the Steppe.

However, Nomin had stood at the foot of the stairs that led up to the Lancers’ Guild. She took in the appearance of the building, much like she had the Archers’ Guild, and noted its banners. Red and black with a gold embroidered image of a lance upon it. She could make no mistake that this is where she needed to be in order to make good on her word that she would go there.

Entering the building, Nomin glanced about before spotting the receptionist desk and approaching it. Sounds of wood striking wood were heard in the room over, as were the grunts and yells of individuals actively training. There was a hyuran woman there at the counter, a determined smile on her face as she greeted Nomin with a small wave.

“Welcome to the Lancers’ Guild, adventurer,” the woman said. “Haven’t seen you around before, so if you seek to refine your skills with the polearm, then you have come to the right place. Here at the Lancers’ Guild, spear wielders gather to train with one another, and further hone their abilities under the tutelage of our fine instructors.”

The hyuran woman then looked over Nomin, noting the bow and quiver upon her person. She then straightened her posture and inquired: “... you…are here to register with our guild, are you not?”

“Mhm. I told Miounne that I would come here and see about joining,” Nomin informed her. She could swear she saw the receptionist breathe a sigh of relief.

“Wonderful! Then allow me to introduce myself, I am Jillian, and I oversee all matters going in and out of the Lancers’ Guild. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance…” she allowed her sentence to linger, looking at Nomin somewhat expectantly.

“Nomin. Pleasure to meet you as well.”

“ No~min …” Jillian repeated, getting a feel for the name. She smiled, giving Nomin a once over before clearing her throat. “Very well! Before we can get you properly situated within our ranks, it is my job to inform you of Gridania’s history with the spear and the art that we teach here.”

Motioning toward her right, Nomin looked at what seemed to be an art piece that looked like a large version of the masks the she saw the Wood Wailers and those dressed in red wore -- but if it were more round and perhaps would have been used to cover the entire face rather than just masking the eyes. There were crossed spears that were mounted upon the walls as well.

“More than just an instrument of war, the spear is also a tool for hunting, and with game ever plentiful in the Twelveswood, the weapon has been the mainstay of the locals here since before the founding of Gridania. With the passing of time, our nation became a gathering place for spearmasters from across the realm -- many eager to test their mettle against the famed might of our Wood Wailers.” Jillian lifted a finger, a smile dancing across her lips. She seemed proud to have this information and share it.

“It was here in Gridania that their myriad fighting styles came into contact, eventually giving rise to the art taught here today. That the spear technique could be formalized at all owed much to the founding of the Lancers’ Guild by Wood Wailer captain Mistalle nigh on a century past.”

Nomin listened with some interest once Jillian had mentioned how people from across the realm had come to the guild to train. She wondered if there were ever any Xaela that had walked past the guild’s doors before herself. She supposed she would find out if she saw any fighting styles that were reminiscent of the Steppe.

“The tradition of accepting students from without as well as within Gridania’s borders persists to this day, ensuring that the art of the polearm may not only survive, but also continue to evolve.” Jillian placed her hands upon her hips, a pleased expression on her face.

“... Can you tell me if you’ve ever had Xaelic individuals like myself pass the guild’s doors in the past?” Nomin inquired, genuine in her curiosity. She had found appreciation in the fact that Jillian, staying true to her lecture, had been rather ambivalent toward Nomin’s appearance. Knowing the Lancers’ Guild accepted people of all kinds was of more comfort than Nomin realized.

Jillian grew pensive, thinking back.

“We have had a couple… That I can remember, anyroad!” Jillian replied. “During my time here, there was a girl I could remember -- said she came from Coerthas up north. Her name was Khenbish, and she was quite well trained already. I shouldn’t be surprised, given the history of the lancers and Knights Dragoon of Ishgard. When I asked her why she wasn’t training with them, she claimed that Ishgard would have rather ran her through with spears than trained her to use them.”

'Khenbish' -- it was a rare name that Nomin knew of. A name that meant 'nobody.' It made her a little more interested in the person behind it. She wondered if it was a name given to the girl, or one chosen. Much like how Nomin chose her own name.

“A…criminal?” Nomin slowly asked.

“Not sure. She never really gave off that impression, and we never had any of our allies among the Temple Knights that patrol near the border of the Western Highlands and the North Shroud ever inquire about her whereabouts. I never really bothered to press her on the specifics of her past,” Jillian explained. “I’m not sure if she’s still around. She hasn’t been back at the guild in several summers at this point. I can only hope that she’s alive somewhere…but we can’t discount the notion that she could very well be returned to the lifestream.”

Shaking her head, Jillian returned her full attention upon Nomin and smiled. “Well, all of that aside, I trust I’ve piqued your interest quite well in regards to what you would be signing up for?”

“I find it reassuring that others like myself have been here…so yes, I would say you have,” Nomin confirmed. “I would like to see what more I could learn, especially if the styles here are blended with one another to make, as mentioned, an evolving style.”

“Excellent! I shall let Guildmaster Ywain know to expect you. All who seek admittance to our ranks must present themselves before him. He will judge if you are fit to become one of us.” Jillian then motioned to the archway to her right. “Pray make your way to the training area within. Our guildmaster shall await you there.”

Nomin did as she was told, stepping foot into the training hall. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and wood polish. She watched the trainees with their training spears practicing their form in staying grounded as well as thrusting to attack. For a moment, she was brought back to her time on the Steppe, training amongst the other Jhungid warriors-in-training. It had been often that she was more taught to use a spear or more hand-to-hand oriented combat, though it was always with the bow that she excelled at.

She had not known how long she was waiting when Jillian came into the room and called to her. When Nomin looked over at Jillian, she had a hyuran man with her, a diagonal scar that ran from just above his right brow down to just barely past where his nose met his cheek on the left. Nomin lifted a hand in quiet greeting, which had been reciprocated from the man.

“Well met, adventurer. I understand you wish to learn the lancers’ art under our roof,” the man said. This must have been Ywain. “I was given to know that you have some combat experience from beyond our lands. Yet it remains to be seen if such skills as you have acquired will avail you here.”

There was want of a knee jerk response, but Nomin bit her tongue.

“It is of no matter. In my capacity as guildmaster, I shall guide your training, beginning with the very basics -- the principles of our art.” Ywain motioned confidently to himself with a small smile. However, Nomin clenched her jaw to prevent herself from gawking in disbelief at the notion of relearning the art of wielding a spear from the beginning.

‘No, it’s understandable. Curb your impatience, Nomin…’ Nomin reminded herself, keeping Esenaij’s counsel rooted within her mind.

“There exist myriad fighting styles, each of which has its own unique qualities. None, however, can claim to be as offensively minded as ours. Our approach is ever one of attack, no matter who -- or what -- we face.”

At this, Nomin found herself starting to pucker her face with incredulity. Ywain’s confident statement seemed that of someone who had never been to the Steppe, where combat was taught to nearly all tribes just because of how violent tribes could be to one another. Self-defense had been a necessary evil for any Xaela that did not want to be set upon by their own people, or worse yet, the Matanga that also lived upon the land.

“An experienced lancer is able to wield a polearm as if it were an extension of their body. They transform into a raging storm before their foes, delivering a barrage of devastating thrusts and slashes,” Ywain went on to explain.

It was here that Nomin’s face relaxed and started bordering on a sense of intrigue. She could not very well think of styles on the Steppe that had them do aught more than powerful thrusts to skewer, or swipes as a means to disarm. The idea that a lance would be used in s quick succession of thrusts had been a mental image that had her thinking on how to balance herself already.

“To facilitate such a relentless assault, we lancers forgo plate, favoring armor of leather and chain -- such materials as provide adequate protection without unduly hindering movement.” Ywain lifted a finger as he went on to further elucidate: “a lancer’s worth may be measured quite simply -- in how swift and decisively they can pierce their enemy’s defenses.”

That made sense. A good thrust to one’s weak point was essential to using a spear from what Nomin remembered in her training on the Steppe.

“By its nature, the polearm is a simple weapon to wield -- for good or ill. Even in a farmer’s hands, it is capable of wreaking considerable havoc. Thus has it been a mainstay of every great army since ancient times.” Ywain paused, looking past Nomin to the lancers within the hall training amongst one another. “Yet know that a lance alone does not a lancer make. Faced with unfavorable odds, an unseasoned spearman will break formation and flee without a moment’s hesitation. A true lancer, however, flinches not before his enemies, for he knows not the meaning of fear. Ever does he press forward, disdainful of the odds, that he might pierce the enemy line and open a path to victory.”

“Would it not be wise to cut one’s losses and flee if they are clearly overwhelmed?” Nomin asked, doing everything within her power to keep her stance as neutral as possible. It was indicative of her tone, however, that there seemed to have been some values that she did not quite see eye-to-eye with. “I don’t mean to undermine your explanations nor station…I simply find myself a little baffled by the idea that I would be expected to run myself ragged if the odds are clearly not in my favor. What would my fearlessness accomplish for myself if I were to stagger in the midst of combat because my headstrong and ‘fearless’ ways to see to this ideal in what may very well be a fool’s errand?”

A ghost of a smile graced Ywain’s lips momentarily. It seemed that it was not often that someone joining the guild had often stepped up to question his meaning nor his authority.

“Fearlessness does not equate to foolhardiness. Having courage and a sense of fearlessness is not to say to run in the thick of combat without your wits about you. I only mean to say that if you run away before you even gauge your enemies’ defenses and openings, perhaps the Lancers’ Guild is not for one of such a caliber.” Ywain looked Nomin up and down, gauging her stature and posture. There was a moment before he continued on with a sense of satisfaction; “having the courage to face your enemies and be level headed enough to make observations of them is important in our field of combat. That is why our guild has striven from the first to instill this essential quality in every soul who passes through our halls.”

Nodding, Nomin felt more resonance with the idea now that it had been expanded upon.

“Without further ado, adventurer… Arduous trials await you should you join our ranks. Knowing this, have you the resolve to wield the lance in the name of the Lancers’ Guild?”

Straightening her posture, Nomin gave a more curt nod. “I do.”

Chapter Text

The mood had been somber and quiet as Nomin, Arik, and Jargal traveled the Steppe together. Only two days had passed since Arik had rushed forward and saved Jargal's life. The memory of it replayed in her head, over and over. There were certainly things there that disconcerted Nomin, but mostly about herself more than anything.

Since then, Jargal had stopped singing everything she wished to communicate as well. There were sometimes hints of a melody to her words, but that had just been remnants of her Qalli upbringing. She had said something that was somewhat heartbreaking concerning it: "why should I keep singing when everything I sing is about how sad I am?"

And so travel had been rather quiet, only some words exchanged about directions, if they should make camp, if anyone had been hungry or cold… Though it had been Arik in particular that had gone out of his way for Jargal, making sure she had water, and making sure she had at least someone who cared for her with her. Even if Nomin herself had cared as well, she had less skills in being able to speak or say much. Instead, all she did were small acts of kindness where she could.

"Reunion isn't far now," Nomin said as their group had stopped next to the banks of the Rai Khaal. She had been washing her face and whatever other parts of her that felt sticky or unclean from their travel. Turning her attention more fully toward Arik and Jargal, Nomin asked, "are you two holding up okay?"

Arik had replied with an ‘mhm,’ though Jargal had still been relatively silent for the most part. She sat close to their camp, her knees brought to her chest as she stared blankly at the campfire pit that had been dug and prepared. It was taking some time, but at least Jargal had helped with getting some stones put around the pit to keep the fire from becoming a hazard.

When night fell and the fire had been burning brightly, Jargal was left with some skewered meat on a wooden plate next to her. Her gaze had at least lifted from the fire up to the night sky.

Both Arik and Nomin had seemingly and silently taken turns keeping an eye on her. They both worried in their own ways.

“What a sight / What a night / To behold your beauty / To behold this life in me…” Jargal had started in song. Her voice started soft at first, a tinge of ache and sorrow still evident within her tone. But there had been something else there -- a sense of wonderment and realization.

“In the light of the pale moon / With its shine, your boon / With the caress of gentle wind / New life doth ascend…” Jargal sang to no one…no one but herself at that moment. Her gaze was ever pointed upward toward the sky, its stars, and the moon that hung there. Her hymn…to the night? Perhaps to herself.

As Jargal sang and vocalized, there was at last, more of a calm that allowed itself to snake through the campsite and temper the air around them.

Chapter Text

A formal education had never really been granted to Nomin when she lived on the Steppe. So when she sat among the children as a guest at the Doman Enclave who were now able to attend their classes, Nomin felt rather out of her element. While she found fascination at the idea that there were so many educational materials around her, it was also quite overwhelming to a degree.

However, the children had been delighted that their friend and idol had been there to visit. Nomin found some sense of solace in that as she watched Yozan, Rokka, Shiun, and Koharu take their own seats and listen attentively as Minazuki took chalk to board and wrote out the names of the provinces and territories of Othard. Her tail curled with a sense of calm happiness at witnessing them take so eagerly to learning what they could -- and also sharing what they had learned back when they were in Revenant’s Toll when F’lhaminn took the time to teach them what she knew and had access to.

When it came to the lessons of geography and maths, Nomin found herself quite enthralled and familiar with the material. Though when it came to the lessons of written word, she found herself lacking. There were plenty of things taught by Minazuki that Nomin never really learned from Bayarmaa when Nomin had been younger. Nomin could only count her blessings that she was not asked to provide any insight nor examples for their sentence structure nor grammar like she had been for the geography portion of their lessons.

It was only when Minazuki asked the children to write of people or things that inspire them that all of them seemed to light up before leaving their desks to cluster around Nomin. For a moment, Nomin had looked at each of them, her tail stiffening at the perceived implication of why they all gathered around her.

“Miss Nomin!” Koharu spoke up. She had always taken a liking to Nomin after having been given some new flowers and seeds to take care of during her time in Revenant’s Toll. Especially as someone who had a shared liking of wearing flowers in their hair. “You have a lot of stories, being an adventurer, don’t you?”

“Erm…y-yes?” Nomin started, glancing once more between everyone. She felt the pressure, and none of them had even asked anything yet. In addition, her Echo seemed to indicate their probing and excited intrigue that bubbled within them.

“Do you have any stories that Mister Slafborn has shared with you? Ooh, ooh! Or even Miss F’lhaminn?” Shiun asked.

“O-oh…well…” and just like that, a part of Nomin had been deflated. She cleared her throat, having gone from feeling nervous about being asked anything that pertained to her and her history, to feeling like a fish out of water with no real knowledge of the other two that felt significant to share. Or…at least could have been okay for her to share without overstepping unspoken boundaries.

“Well…I can’t really talk about much, I’m afraid, thinking about it…” Nomin began, noting how expectant each of the children of the self-made Doman Adventurers’ Guild watched her. She would have felt terrible if she allowed the gleams in their eyes to sputter out into nothing with what little she had. Though, she did her best to search each nook and crevice in her mind for anything.

“You…see…um…” Nomin was really struggling, though gave thought to both Ul’dah and Revenant’s Toll -- the stories that both individuals had regarding their times there. “Slafborn…he sees everything in Revenant’s Toll. There must be a myriad of things he has borne witness to. Why…when the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had been targeted and prevented entry into most Eorzean territories, he had kept ever a vigilant watch over Revenant’s Toll and listened for any news regarding our whereabouts.

Nomin then recalled her discussion with him when the theft from Rowena’s stores had been a topic of the time. For a moment, she hesitated, and then smiled warmly.

“... And he has gone through great lengths to ensure every Doman’s safety and wellbeing since you had taken refugee there -- including the four of you,” Nomin said, lacing her fingers together over top the desk she was sat at. “He was loathe to place blame on any of you for the grimoire incident, and bade me come to you in his stead -- and I’m grateful I did. He feared that he and the others stationed to oversee the safety Revenant’s Toll would have frightened you and given the other adventurers or residents cause to mistrust the Domans. He wanted, above all, to avoid that with as difficult the trip and finding sanctuary must have been already at the time.”

Now that the words were coming out of her mouth, Nomin saw very easily how Slafborn would have been an inspirational figure to the children.

“Really? And here I was thinking that he had always been ready to accuse us! Thanks for telling us, Miss Nomin!” Shiun piped up, gawping at the information that they were just now being told. Though a grin found its way onto his mouth as he went back to his desk to get his notebook out and begin writing. It seemed that he already had some ideas in mind as to what to write.

“What about Miss F’lhaminn?” Koharu pressed, her hands on the desk as she leaned in.

“Well…let’s see…” Nomin brought a finger to her chin, her eyes pointed upward toward the rafters of the open air class. She thought back to when she was first informed of F’lhaminn’s existence by Alphinaud and then let out an amused scoff when she recalled how in awe the story left her feeling.

“F’lhaminn has a really impressive history around her. If you know about the Calamity, many people thought she was lost to it -- but we ended up finding her again following some rumors telling tale of her appearance.

“She had lived away in secret over in the Near East -- Thavnair -- for so long, creating perfumes from flowers. Why, she was in the midst of collecting flowers when I met her for the first time close to Wineport in eastern La Noscea.” Nomin spoke. At this point, F’lhaminn had been living more openly in Revenant’s Toll without fear of being found out.

“Oh wow!” Shiun gasped. “But why did she live in secret for so long. Do you know?”

Nomin shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I never really asked -- she must have had her reasons.”

In the back of her mind, Nomin wondered if it was to keep Minfilia -- her Ascilia -- safe in some fashion. She supposed she would never find out unless she took a more direct approach and asked. However, she slightly shook her head to rid herself of that line of thought before returning her attention to the children once more.

“Impressive as that is…did you also know that she used to be called the Songstress of Ul’dah? She had built quite the reputation for herself long ago,” Nomin said, smiling. “I’ve never heard her songs for myself, though.”

“Oh, oh! I’ve heard Miss F’lhaminn humming to herself sometimes -- when she’s cleaning!” Rokka exclaimed excitedly.

“Is that so?” Nomin’s jaw fell open somewhat. She had never really stuck around, nor made it a habit of staying down in the Rising Stones for any prolonged amount if she could help it. Nor did she often find herself at Rowena’s café, where she has heard tale of F’lhaminn taking a liking to having a light meal or even tea there.

“Hm…I think I know what to write, then! Miss F’lhaminn always did what she could to teach me the art of dance, but…I could never quite get the hang of it. Hearing all of this about her is incredible, though!” Koharu said, grinning to herself as she returned to her desk as well.

Nomin was now left with both Yozan and Rokka. With no one else to talk about at that current time, Nomin could only wonder what figure they would question her about next. However, it seemed that both of them were a little more determined in their choices.

“Were there others that you two wished to hear about?” Nomin asked. She was not quite sure if she would measure up pending on who either Yozan and Rokka asked about, but Nomin kept an open mind and did her best to recall as many faces as she could during her time visiting or staying in Revenant’s Toll or otherwise.

“Um…what about Mister Hoary Boulder? I trained with him, see…I’d like to know if you have anything to share about him?” Yozan inquired, a determined look set upon his face. As far as Nomin remembered, Yozan had often trained with a practice sword, and sometimes saw Hoary taking time to show Yozan a proper stance to keep himself grounded.

“Erm…well… Ah! I overheard him once speaking with his brother about how he had trained alongside Hannish warriors. He and his brother, Ocher Boulder, seem to have a small rivalry of besting one anothe’s talents and feats. Though, I’m sure he’s been able to show you more oft than not, no? Especially since he went out of his way to show all of you -- along with Mister Coultenet -- different arts of combat styles.” Nomin pointed her questioning gaze in Yozan’s direction. “Full glad am I to hear that they both dedicate themselves to their craft, though. Their strength has been ever appreciated by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn when some of us aren’t there to see to matters affecting Revenant’s Toll or the rest of Eorzea.”

“Yeah! They showed us all kinds of amazing things! I wanna be able to hold my ground and protect everyone like Hoary Boulder does, though!” Yozan replied. He became a little more animated since Nomin spoke about Hoary.

“Well! You could always write about what he taught you and what you took away from his lessons.”

“I could…” Yozan looked thoughtful for a moment before a grin settled back on his face as he nodded. He happily went back to his desk to start writing right away. “I’ll write about Mister Hoary Boulder and Coultenet! Everything they taught us was so that we could fend for ourselves, after all.”

“And you?” Nomin looked over at Rokka who lingered.

“Mm…” Rokka’s brow furrowed slightly as she reached into her bag and produced a book. The book itself had been a well worn leatherbound one, the letters upon it slowly fading to time. The leftover emboss of it, however, read: Shaping the Arcane . When Rokka left the book there and lingered on it, she finally asked, “... do you have any stories about Miss Y’shtola? She let me borrow a number of her tomes, but she let me keep this one. Because of her and this book, I’ve learned how to cast curative spells -- and it’s always been good practice when one of us gets hurt.”

Y’shtola ? Now there was someone that Nomin could share a number of stories about. However.

“... You know, she’s come to be this rather undying figure in the time that I’ve known her…” Nomin said, thinking back on all the times that Y’shtola has had death-defying instances. “I really don’t know how she comes back up on her own two feet, but it’s quite impressive.”

“‘Undying’? Is Miss Y’shtola powerful?”

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

“How did she get there? Do you know? How long did it take her?” Rokka now bombarded Nomin with questions, to which Nomin could only gently laugh it all off as she thought about each one briefly.

“A lot of time and practice, I would imagine…” Nomin started. “She comes from Sharlayan, where they have a wealth of knowledge. Um…and she had this instructor…” Nomin paused briefly, remembering Master Matoya and her rather prickly demeanor. She cleared her throat and continued. “She had this instructor -- a kind of maternal figure, you might even say -- who was rather stern about Y’shtola and her teachings.”

“O-Oh…would I need a stern teacher to become a powerful spellcaster?” Rokka asked. There was a nervous tone to her voice.

“I don’t think you would ‘need’ a stern teacher…” Nomin started, though she also recalled how hard pressed and stern Esenaij was of a teacher for her when she was learning how to first wield a bow. Not to mention that there was no memory of a Jhungid instructor ever necessarily being kind to her. “Um, well…maybe you do. A lot of my teachers were pretty stern, now that I look back on my own studies and teachings.”

At first, Rokka frowned. She did not relish the idea of having a stern teacher. Though she sighed and collected herself with more determination. Picking up the book and clutching it back to herself, she nodded -- more to herself than anything.

“I’d like to be more like Miss Y’shtola when it comes to the art of magic. I think…” Rokka said. “Would that mean traveling all the way to Sharlayan to learn from the scholars and professors there?”

“It could…” Nomin slowly started in response. “But you could also meet wonderful instructors scattered all over the realm -- here in Othard, or over in Eorzea if you ever get the chance to travel back there. Why, one of Y’shtola’s sisters, I hear, has been quite the instructor in arcane magicks. Last I heard of her, she was helping with learning and teaching the art of Allagan Summoners alongside the Immortal Flames.”

“Miss Y’shtola’s family is just filled with amazing spellcasters, huh?”

“So far that I personally know.” Nomin then offered a small smile. “All that said, though… Y’shtola is an amazing Scion and an even more amazing person overall. She has been such a stalwart friend to me and the others in our lives. Despite the mean streak she can often show us, she has ever been one to aid us without a second thought, and she would do everything she could in order to research as thoroughly as possible to come to a conclusion that leaves everyone as best informed and as safe as they can before being thrust into harrowing situations.”

“Hm…” Rokka closed her eyes in thought before smiling to herself. “I think I have something, then. Thank you for what you’ve been able to share, Miss Nomin.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Nomin replied, watching Rokka go back to kneeling at her desk. The Rissai-juku had become quiet, the sounds of brushes clinking against ink pots to rid them of excess before being used to write their essays.

After a moment, Minazuki came over to Nomin and offered her a small bow before requesting her presence for a more private word. When Nomin obliged and followed her out of the shade of the Rissai-juku, they paused by a nearby bonsai pine before Minazuki regarded Nomin warmly.

“It has been such a joy having you visit on occasion, Miss Nomin,” Minazuki started. “Seeing their faces light up when you come by has been a highlight, I must admit. They speak so highly of you, that I must say that I’m surprised none of them asked to write about you . But perhaps it would have been too obvious for them to have chosen one they speak of often.”

Just then, a warm feeling flooded Nomin’s chest. The kids spoke about her on occasion? While she expected them to have asked about her and her experiences, she was grateful they elected not to. Though to hear about them speaking about her in glowing terms was a little emotional for her. Nomin did what she could to prevent herself from getting overwhelmed by the notion.

“Helping them in their trip to Revenant’s Toll, and being the reason they can come back home… I can ill thank you for everything you have done. Please accept my humblest thanks, and I hope that you can take great comfort knowing that you are the reason that these children, and by extension, I, smile and look forward to a better future for Doma and its people.”

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Nomin defensively asked.

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

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

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

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

Nomin hesitated.

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

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

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

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

“N…no…” Nomin lied.

“Do you believe yourself just now?”

“... No.”

“Why do you feel broken, Nomin?”

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

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

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

Chapter Text

Traveling Vylbrand had been a rest of endurance on some days, as Nomin learned. She would have set up camp not far from Aleport if someone had not advised against it, and if she had not seen the clouds for herself. The weather had been all but tempestuous in the time she had been back in order to carry out a request to clear out the area known as the Sastasha Seagrot.

Rain beat down on the lands, the spattering of it a steady thrum as Nomin sat at the table at the small inn they stayed at. Across and next to her were her travel companions and friendly faces: Lorha and R'ayzel. They had formed their own small party, and were supposed to meet someone else there to make up a team of four to properly venture through the caves where the Serpent Reavers had been hiding out.

"I hope that these storms that have been blowing through hasn't hampered whoever we're supposed to introduce ourselves to…" Lorha commented, sighing as she idly stirred her spoon in her soup. Like the other two, she had been growing impatient, being confined to the indoors for now until they had gotten their adventuring party rightfully sorted out.

“If it has, maybe the Smiths can provide us with someone on short notice?” Nomin posited, hopeful that perhaps that could be the case.

“I wouldn’t place your bets on it. They mostly just provide a lot of tips and pointers for those starting off in the adventuring lifestyle…” R’ayzel replied, her brow furrowed as she leaned back in her seat. Similar to Nomin and Lorha, R'ayzel had not originally been from Eorzea -- so far as she had been told. They shared plenty of skeptical viewpoints at any rate.

Eating their meals in mostly silence, all three of them looked toward the door once it had burst open, the silhouette of a tall figure walking in shortly after. What drew Nomin's attention more than anything were the long, leoprine ears that protruded from the woman's head, dappled brown and white. Once the door had been closed, the woman removed her cowl to reveal herself; she had alabaster skin, and light brown hair.

"Um…I hope I'm finally in the right place…" the woman started, looking around at the patrons that were holding up for the time being. The three at the table watched her curiously, wondering if she was the one they were meeting with. The viera cleared her throat, "I'm…I'm looking for the Sastasha adventuring party?"

"Oh, oh! That would be us!" Lorha said, dropping her spoon with a small clatter into her bowl as she excitedly waved toward the newcomer. There was a wide grin upon her face, and her ears had perked upward with a sense of glee.

Relief was palpable from the viera, who walked over and gave them all a small, sheepish smile in greeting. She adjusted her cloak and slowly took a seat in the empty chair. There was a moment where the viera glances between each of them: two miqo’te and one au ra…

"Um…" the viera started. "Well! I'm Ralne! I'm, uh…well, I'm part of the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss in Limsa Lominsa."

R'ayzel quirked a brow at that, electing to stay silent.

"'Sister'? Oh, does that mean you're a fellow healer like me?" Lorha asked. "I suppose I can do more offensive things, too. In order to help out with anything that might come across as rough or unfortuante, that is! I didn't realize we'd be getting someone who heals."

"I…I suppose you could call what I do healing…after a fashion." Ralne then cleared her throat and gave a sidelong glance to R'ayzel and Nomin. "You see, the activities of the Serpent Reavers have been coming awfully close to Limsa Lominsa. I elected to take on the job and sign up as an adventurer at the Drowning Wench to do so. I do this on behalf of the Sisters to set their own minds at ease, you see. With their own duties revolving around Limsa Lominsa and offering succor to the residents and the great city itself, matters outside its walls often -- and regrettably -- go unanswered."

Ralne’s ears twitched momentarily before they drooped backward. Her expression had become sheepish once more as she laced her fingers over top of the table.

“Sorry, I tend to overexplain a bit…” Ralne softly said. “‘Tis an unfortunate thing, especially when you serve the Sisters.”

“It’s fine -- it’s a nice introduction at the very least!” Lorha replied, leaning on the table with her elbows propped upon it, and her knuckles against her cheeks. “I’m Lorha! That’s Nomin over there, and we have R’ayzel right there!”

In response, Nomin offered a small wave -- rather, a curl of the fingers in greeting. Meanwhile, R’ayzel had only merely nodded her head upward somewhat as a less proper means of greeting Ralne.

“So…what…what exactly is our formation here?” Ralne asked.

“I’ll be leading, making sure I keep everyone else safe behind me,” R’ayzel said, stuffing her mouth with some cornbread before taking a spoonful of soup into her mouth. Speaking up once more, she seemed to care little when flecks and crumbs of food went spilling forward or flying out of her mouth: “so don’ do ahny’fing stufid, lih rumin’ in fron’ off me.”

“Er, oh! Duly…duly noted…” Ralne said, picking up a stray cloth that she assumed had no owner before wiping away the bits of cornbread and spittle that had fallen onto the table in front of her. She glanced at Nomin, “what about you? What are you going to do in our little formation?”

“Sharpeye…” Nomin replied, simple and to the point. “I’m an archer. I plan on eliminating threats before they can come close. Or…taking care of anyone that might want to attack from a distance themselves.”

“Oh good…I actually prefer being in melee combat myself. I won’t be an issue, you don’t think?”

“As long as I can tell you apart from the others that we’re there to take care of, I don’t think you should be…” Nomin glanced at Ralne’s ears. “You’re quite…noticeable from what I’ve seen in my time in Eorzea, I’ll say. So I really don’t think you have anything to worry about if you are concerned about my arrows making you their mark.”

“That is a relief, actually!” Ralne smiled before turning her attention back toward Lorha. “And then, going back to what you said, you provide healing and aid?”

“That’s right!” Lorha beamed, her tail curling upward. “You won’t have to worry about bleeding out, or wallowing in injury! Rose and I will have everyone taken care of should things look particularly hairy! I don’t think we have anything to worry about, though! I think we’re probably pretty solid!”

“‘Probably’?” Nomin took a slow sip from her cup of orange juice, looking pointedly at Lorha.

“Well, of course!” Lorha looked at everyone. “I’ve seen you and how you’ve not only handled a bow, but have handled a lance as well, Nomin! But we’ve not really spent too long with R’ayzel, and we just met Ralne today. I don’t mean to sound negative about our odds, I just recognize the fact that there may be some aspects of teamwork that might have us stepping on each others’ toes at first.”

Lorha then pointed a finger up next to her cheek as she elaborated; “it’s like when I studied back in Sharlayan. It’s all well and good when you excel in your field or art of study. Though when you’re put into a group of like-minded scholars or practitioners of your field without knowing them, there are times your knowledge and perceptions of that knowledge will come to clash. Twelve knows I’ve seen a number of hotly debated topics that never come to a head because some scholars will swear by one way when other scholars swear by another.”

Placing both her hands on the table, Lorha then continued: “but…should we come together and learn from one another -- especially should we start coming to the point of stepping on each others’ toes -- we can create quite the team.”

“Learn from one another so as not to hamper one another. You could have honestly used fewer words,” R’ayzel said, tapping her finger on the side of her spoon before getting another slurp of her soup.

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

A loose towel was draped around Nomin’s shoulders as she sat outside the showering rooms that Eulmore had that were mandatory for those coming in from the outside. She had scrunched her nose at the sight that surrounded her ever since stepping foot through the threshold into the impressive structure that made up the city. Green marble, golden accents, ruby red walls tinged with the floral scent of roses... It would have been wondrous were it not for the horrid living conditions of Gatetown and the added desperation of Kai-Shirr wanting to get in so that he could live among his friends.

Hells…even hearing how Tristol had lost the will to paint had been heartbreaking to Nomin. She would not have been able to imagine not being able to love painting -- recreating settings and sceneries to reflect upon and remember… She wondered if Alphinaud had felt the same, for the two of them had often indulged in art, different as their subjects may have been. And so, with the idea that they were both painters -- Alphinaud the expert in painting people, and Nomin his protégé who specialized in landscapes, they had their cover story for entering into the otherwise secretive city.

Nomin leaned her head back, the back of it hitting the wall behind her. She had been waiting for Alphinaud at this rate, his reluctance to take the opportunity when they first got there delayed them in meeting with their new charge.

Leaning down somewhat, Nomin took a small sniff of her clothes. They did reek of sweat and earthy tones…though she supposed that was what the perfume was for. If she was supposed to look and smell her best, Nomin thought to herself that she and Alphinaud both could have been provided some appropriately-sized clothes to wear. Or there could have been something nearby to wash their clothes without bringing them into the showers with them.

Scoffing to herself, Nomin lazily spritzed the perfume upon herself. The scent of roses only became stronger, not that she minded. It was, perhaps, the only decent thing so far that she found herself amicable toward.

When Alphinaud finally left the showers with his clothes back upon his person, a towel upon his own head, and a liberal spritz of the provided perfume, Nomin got back up on her feet and looked down at him. She noted the well-used brush within his grasp, thinking back on what Tristol had said about ‘sending them back to that awful place.’ For a place so lavish and desired to leave such an impression…it had left a rather bitter taste at the back of Nomin’s throat.

“Well, that was bracing! I believe the lingering smells of the road have been successfully expunged.” Alphinaud said, looking up at Nomin. He then adjusted the tome at his hip; “shall we go and present ourselves to our new patrons, then?”

A sigh fell from Nomin’s lips, reluctance in answering Alphinaud right away.

“... Something still troubles you,” Alphinaud observed. “What’s on your mind?”

“This place…” Nomin started, shaking her head somewhat. “Sorry, I don’t mean to halt our progress now that we’re standing here. Just…this place feels a bit too good to be true, does it not? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this short of the Vault back in Eorzea. I don’t even think that could hold a candle to how…opulent this all feels.”

Nomin gestured vaguely around them at all the things that she had come to notice.

“Hm…” Alphinaud brought a finger to his chin, his expression falling to pensiveness. “Quite…’tis all steeped with this fulsome luxury that, from what we already know, leads to living in a contented state of indolence.”

Nomin tilted her head somewhat, hearing something she had never properly heard before. She then asked, knowing that Alphinaud would likely be more than happy to inform her: “‘fulsome’? Forgive my ignorance…I’ve never learned this word in the common tongue alongside the language of my people…”

“Ah, pray forgive me. What I mean is that this is all in such excess -- and perhaps sickeningly so. Hells, it could encompass all the meanings of the word that are logged away in the dictionaries of Sharlayan’s libraries…” Alphinaud sighed in a frustrated manner. “Alas, it does us no good to stay here in stagnation. We should find someone to direct us to the Chais that we might learn aught more of this place.”

“The faster the better…” Nomin replied, nodding in agreement. “Let us be about it, then.”

Removing themselves from the entry to the showers, Nomin and Alphinaud found a Eulmoran guard that kindly provided them a basic layout to the city. With a small word of thanks, the two had climbed a number of stairs -- a ‘fulsome amount’ as Nomin so mentioned to Alphinaud just to ensure that she had the meaning of it correct. And what a fulsome amount it was, as it proved to have been a test of endurance for the both of them; Nomin less so, but she could still feel her heart’s beat having picked up as kept her breath practiced.

Waiting a moment for Alphinaud to compose himself, the two had made their way around the Canopy, asking around if anyone knew where the Chais were. The two had been pointed in the direction of a large eatery filled with tables and decor that had been as equally gaudy with its golden accents. It had been made even more of an eye sore with the bright light that filtered in through the windows, only serving to make the glint of them worse.

The table that had their quarry sitting at it, Nomin noticed, had been full of what looked to have been fresh fruits. A plump looking miqo’te -- mystel -- had been sitting there with her husband -- a smaller man with spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. They had taken note of their guests, the woman gazing over them curiously.

These must have been the Chais -- Chai-Nuzz and Dulia-Chai.

“Ooh? Who’s this then?” Dulia’s voice carried, her tone light and somewhat shrill.

Bowing to them in respect, Alphinaud’s tone had changed as he addressed them: “Lord and Lady Chai, pray forgive our intrusion. I am given to understand you were in search…of an artist ?”

Nomin’s lips twitched before she simply pursed them to force herself not to smile in amusement at how Alphinaud had carried himself. A small hint of his younger self had come out in that moment, not that Nomin would ever tell him.

“Ahh, you must be the new, uh…” Chai-Nuzz spoke, trailing off.

“Oh, goodness me! What an adorable boy!” Dulia exclaimed with a giggle, now having come to process Alphinaud and Nomin’s arrival. “That silken hair, those pearly cheeks…oh, and you even smell wonderful -- like a bed of flowers!”

Dulia had leaned in, smelling the air happily before looking at her husband and cheerfully stating: “I approve of this one, dearest! I am positive he will paint us the most delightful pictures.”

Nomin had been uncertain if Dulia had been saying that simply because Alphinaud had tickled her clear maternal sense, or if because she was absolutely certain that, because they stood before her table, he must have been a devoted artist. Either way, it looked like there was at least one obstacle down…

“I, um, er, y-yes… Ahem. Well, as long as he paints better than that talentless wretch we sent packing last week…” Chai-Nuzz spoke, clearly wanting to at least be on his wife’s good side more than anything.

Momentary amusement quickly gave way to a scowl of disdain. For both Nomin and Alphinaud, it seemed.

And so there was the second obstacle…

“Wonderful, wonderful! Welcome to Eulmore…um, er…” Dulia started, looking at both of them expectantly.

“Alphinaud, if it please you, my lady. And this…is my assistant.” Alphinaud introduced.

“A pleasure. My name is Nomin.” With her words, Nomin offered a bow.

“Your…assistant?” Chai-Nuzz looked incredulously between them, failing to hide that same incredulousness from his tone. “I’ve heard of folk bringing in family members, but this seems a bit irregular. Aren’t you a little young to have a protégé?”

“We are family in all but name, my lord. Though we share no blood, we have stood by each other through life’s many challenges, resolved to prevail together -- or not at all,” Alphinaud said in earnest response. “Of all people, ‘tis she who best understands my work. With her unique insight guiding my hand, the art I create is sure to satisfy your expectations.”

Nomin glanced at Alphinaud. The sincerity within his tone as well as the way he worded his response was heartwarming to her. She would have smiled in warm fashion had she not wished to play at stoicism if only to prevent herself from ruining their overall facade in being there. In fact, she had even reached for her bag, there had been at least two or three paintings done upon hide that she had safely stowed away.

“So what do you learn from him, Nomin?” the Chai-Nuzz asked. He pointed that self-same look of incredulity in Nomin’s direction.

Producing from her bag one of her rolled hides, Nomin spread it open to reveal a painting of a nightly vista found on the Steppe if one were to travel the Tail Mountains. The colors upon the hide were a culmination of browns, purples, pinks, blues with spatterings of white for stars. Clearing her throat as she showed off her own work, Nomin went on, “though Master Alphinaud and I differ in our technique and subject matter, I learn much from him in the matter of emotion. How these vistas I paint make me feel, and how I would wish to provide that for those would would gaze upon my work.”

“Oh! Dearest, look!” Dulia exclaimed, clapping her hands together with joy. “Why, the sky in this painting is so vast and beautiful ! Just like in the books I read when I was just a little girl! Young Alphinaud must be talented if this is the work of his protégé!”

Relief wound itself around Nomin’s heart. Of course, her skill in painting landscapes would have no bearing on Alphinaud’s skill in painting people. She would have to hope they were ignorant in the lifestyles of artists to overlook that much.

“Would you like to keep it?” That question alone had been a knife to her own stomach as Nomin uttered the words. However, she spoke them as a means of good faith to keep both she and Alphinaud as on a good side of the Chais as possible. Even if she hated parting with the paintings she made as a means to record her memories of places.

“You would let me keep it?” Dulia gasped.

“A present, and a token of my appreciation to see us well here in Eulmore.”

“I would love it! Ooh, I know just the place to hang it, too!” Dulia looked between both Nomin and Alphinaud, a crinkle at the corners of her eyes as she smiled widely. “Such a gift…and manners, besides! To have two wonderful painters in our midst! I am so excited to see what young Alphinaud has in store for us!”

Alphinaud, however, nodded with a pleasant look upon his face. “I will certainly do what I can. I am ever so lucky to have been blessed with such an assistant who can provide me with such artistic insight as you can see for your very self. As I said, she is the one who best understands my work. Once the picture for you two is begun, of course, I shall have no need of her constant encouragement. And so I wondered, rather than her being in your way, might it then be permissible for my assistant to explore the city she has so longed to see? Out of gratitude for her priceless contribution to my art, I thought it only fair that I make this humble request on her behalf.”

Nomin slowly looked in Alphinaud’s direction. Would they have even bought tha--

“Oooh, did you ever hear of such devotion! Of course your assistant must have her wish! She shall be free to roam to her heart’s content!” Dulia cooed before she looked in Chai-Nuzz’s direction. Her tone then became expectant as she addressed him, “...Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Uh…” Chai-Nuzz was taken out of his thoughts, his mouth falling slightly agape at the prospect. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course, dearest. Q-Quite right.”

Once the Chais had been more enraptured with speaking amongst themselves, Alphinaud met Nomin’s gaze. His expression became determined before he walked forward and cleared his throat. He addressed Nomin, putting that pleasant smile on once more: “now you’ve the opportunity to experience Eulmore, I suggest you make the most of it. Explore the city, top to bottom.”

Alphinaud needed to say no more to Nomin as she nodded. After all, their experiences in Ishgard and Kugane both, had left them with some knowledge on how to carry themselves. If Tataru were here, she would have happily gone to the places that would have provided the most amount of gossip. And it seemed that Alphinaud was on the same page.

“Try wandering around the market stalls, mayhap…? Such colorful places are usually filled with colorful characters, and I know how much you enjoy a myriad of colors,” Alphinaud said. “I would appreciate, of course, if you could share any discoveries with me in turn. We should both learn as much as possible about our, ahem, ‘new place of residence.’”

“I’ll leave you to it, then…” Nomin said, offering another polite bow to both Dulia and Chai-Nuzz. “Thank you again for allowing me this rare opportunity. I shall make the most of it.”

Turning heel, Nomin strode off. She certainly intended to make the most of every second she and Alphinaud had within the impressive walls of the fulsome image that was Eulmore.

Chapter Text

The sands of Gangos were cool, thankfully, because the sun beat down otherwise on the cove where the Bozjans convened for war plans and debriefing. Though Nomin had come at the behest of Marsak when she had chanced to revisit Kugane once getting back from the First, she had distanced herself from the meetings. At least the ones that were more about upping morale, or providing words of inspiration. As it stood, Nomin felt as if she were not the greatest at either.

Instead, Nomin stood several fulms away from training dummies that the soldiers often used to keep their skills sharp. She held a gunblade in one hand, feeling its weight within her grasp. It had certainly been different from holding a spear, or using her bow. Hells, it had been weightier than the rapier and focus she had come to use to channel her aether to utilize red magic.

“Y’ain’t gonna get better at usin’ the thing the more ye stare at it, lass,” came a gruff voice.

Nomin looked behind her to the owner of the voice. There was a hrothgar standing there, his arms folded over his chest, and his expression not very discernable under his mane and scruff of white hair. A pair of goggles had been situated upon his head, crowning it.

The hrothgar’s name was Grathgar, and the one who had introduced to Nomin a gunblade of her own after she expressed mild interest in it. It was a training blade more than anything, with a failsafe so that the aether charges within had not produced as large a bang as the more combat-ready ones did. However, it was weighted to feel the same as holding the real thing.

“No need to remind me…” Nomin replied, partially frowning. She looked down at the blade and the cylinder that had clicked into place when she looked at how many charges it had. Flicking the cylinder and hearing it spin, Nomin walked over to Grathgar and huffed a quiet sigh.

“I hesitate to ask, mostly because the thought doesn’t really tickle my fancy…” Nomin started. “Though I don’t suppose there’s something that would fit me? A suit of armor so that I might get a feel for the weight and material while I train?”

Grathgar offered a soft chortle to the inquiry.

“Aye, that we do. We likely have somethin’ or other around here fer ye size…” Grathgar scratched his chin momentarily. Throwing a hand up, he then turned and led the way toward one of the supply tents. “Let’s see if we can get ye suited up, then.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Grathgar then asked, “ye ever wear somethin’ heavy an’ more suited fer protectin’ yer softer bits?”

“Nothing like plate or, uh, scale, if that’s what you’re asking,” Nomin admitted. She afforded the scales on the back of her hand a brief glance. “I’ve never really been one to stand on the front lines if I could help it. There are typically others more trained for it than I ever have been. The closest I’ve gotten is what I’ve worn for lance training in Eorzea -- but most of that has been leather and chain for protection.”

“Ah…then ye have quite an adjustment to make…” Grathgar responded. “We have armor that’s suited fer our practices, but it’s still gonna be heavier than what I imagine ye’ve been given afore.”

“Then it’s lucky I have this time to train and get some form of understanding of what I’ll be working with.” Nomin had fallen into step next to Grathgar, though had to skip forward every now and then just to keep up with his longer gait. “I don’t expect to use a gunblade immediately -- certainly not in the current short term. I’ll likely still be using a bow, or my red magic in order to aid and assist where I can. But at least having this training under my belt should I ever need to employ it in the future will be handy.”

The curl of a smirk grew on Grathgar’s lips as he and Nomin approached the supply tent. There were brief greetings made to those that were manning it, and Grathgar had explained briefly the situation as to their visit. The person that had been there nodded with some level of enthusiasm to getting to help with outfitting the Warrior of Light with something more than just light leathers and reinforced cloth.

With a little bit of aid into the armor and getting them secured, it took Nomin and the others a good chunk of a bell to ensure that each piece fit snugly and just right so that there were no mishaps due to misshapen pieces fit for a larger or smaller frame. Of course, it also turned out that Grathgar had not been exaggerating in the slightest when it came to the weight of the armor that now rested upon Nomin.

As it stood, the cloth had been reinforced underneath with chain, and the plating on her torso needed to be fitted with some padding underneath so as not to chafe. There were steel gauntlets underneath the sleeves of her coat, and steel pauldrons that sat upon her shoulders. Her neck had been covered up with tempered leather and thick steel to keep it protected. Perhaps the only truly obvious pieces of armor were the leather and steel boots that crawled all the way up to her thighs.

On the surface, the new suit that adorned Nomin had not looked too different from what she might have seen Thancred normally wear. He seemed to have no difficulty at all in wearing his coat and armor pieces along with fighting with whatever techniques he acquired from his own gunblade trainer. He had made it look all so easy…but then again, with how it seemed the First’s passage of time before Nomin had been pulled to it had gone…it was unsurprising that he had all that time to train and temper himself further.

“Aye, there ye go, lass… Lookin’ fit fer runnin’ on the front lines o’ Bozja, ye are…” Grathgar said, looking over Nomin and folding his arms back over his chest with a contented look on his face. “Now…we should go ahead an’ get ye trained up with that blade of yers. Jus’ be mindful of the aether charges within, an ye’ll be golden. Six total -- don’t forget.”

Nodding, Nomin took up the blade from where she had rested it. It was certainly a little more cumbersome with the added weight upon her person, though she walked back toward the training dummies with Grathgar close behind. Taking in a breath, Nomin thought of the different techniques that she had been shown.

Locking her attention upon the one striking dummy, Nomin braced herself before she charged forward and swung the blade. She pulled the trigger on the blade, only to have it glance off of the dummy’s surface with a pitiful ‘click’...and then a series of other, equally pitiful ‘click, click, clicks.’

“What the…” Nomin started, pulling the trigger again. Even if it was just a training blade, something should have happened.

“Ye did make sure to put some aether charges in there, aye?” Grathgar asked, amusement evident in his tone.

Nomin had felt that rising sense of embarrassment however, and she immediately went to check the six-round cylinder.

It had indeed been quite bereft of any rounds.

Chapter Text

The sweetness and ever so soothing warmth of the hot chocolate that had been provided to Nomin, Alphinaud, and Tataru from Haurchefant still lingered on their tongues, and remained nestled in their bellies. Though each of them had been wrapped up in snug and warm coats, the biting cold of Coerthas had ripped through layers, presenting a dull chill upon their bundled extremities, and a stinging nip upon their exposed skin.

Despite the sweet left on their tongue, and the warmth within, that whistling, gelid wind was a bitter reminder of everything that had transpired over the last fortnight before they were cleared to finally cross the Steps of Faith into Ishgard. Even then, as the three of them walked over the stone brick path, suspended over a chasm of nothingness, Nomin had all of it latching onto her memories like a parasite. Latched, wriggling, sapping away her mental fortitude.

Even if Haurchefant was able to lift Alphinaud’s spirits with his metaphors and optimistic outlook, Nomin had elected to stay silent. She had only offered a small smile where she felt it was appropriate -- a facade to hide the all too familiar burn of loathsome anger. However, this anger burned more brightly than she remembered it. Because instead of being simply ambushed, they had been betrayed .

Nomin had listened to Alphinaud’s lamentations over this fact. His perfect ‘Crystal Braves’ and what they would have done for Eorzea. Truth be told, even if Alphinaud’s decisions and eagerness to jump right to it had been questionable at times, there was a certain kind of admiration that Nomin had for him. His gumption toward working on a brighter Eorzea had stemmed from a genuine want of the right thing, though his eagerness and lack of proper planning had left him blind to the cancerous threat that loomed over them.

It had been fortunate that Yugiri and her Doman ninjas had been watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary during their stay in Revenant’s Toll… If only there had been warnings ahead of time… Maybe this could have all been avoided.

Maybe…

Nomin shook her head and squinted ahead, trying to make heads or tails of what she could see through the dense fog that shrouded Ishgard. It had been hard enough on its own, but the whipping winds were cause to want to close her eyes if only because they pushed the moisture from them. The walk had also felt as if it stretched on and on…just as it did when Nomin and the others had faced Vishap upon these very bricks.

The towering form of the portcullis felt as if it burst forth from the fog when the three finally got to it. Its gate hung high, the spiked prongs resembling teeth, Nomin thought. It was a foreboding thought, and Nomin could only hope that she was not escaping the jaws of one beast and entering the jaws of another. Though from what Haurchefant had said about Ishgard’s perpetual war…Nomin had very little hope.

Crossing the threshold into the entrance of Ishgard might as well have been like entering the maw of an all new monster stretched out before them. The lights of the towering spires glowed like eyes, peering ominously through the fog. If Nomin had any idea of how Ishgardians were based off of the impressions she got from those outside its walls -- its teeth -- she could only imagine the trials and tribulations that were bound to be before her.

“From afar, the spires did not seem so tall…” Alphinaud remarked once he, Nomin, and Tataru had finally made their way toward their charge who waited patiently at the bottom of some stairs leading further into the stone city.

“Gods… I feel like a child in a giant’s castle!” Tataru exclaimed, though she seemed much more excited about that idea than Alphinaud had. To her stature, Ishgard must have been quite the impressive sight from both within and without.

The manservant that had been tasked to meet with them had cleared his throat and bowed in their presence.

“Greetings, Master Alphinaud, Lady Tataru, and Lady…” the manservant paused, eyeing Nomin warily. “Lady Nomin.”

This alone had already caused Nomin to purse her lips, finding a moment to adjust her gloves if only to give her hands something idle to do. Yes…Ishgard was going to be quite the obstacle in many ways if even who was meant to be a friendly face seemed uncertain of her appearance. She could have chalked it up to the fact that she, Tataru, and Alphinaud were outsiders…but his pause regarding her had been telling.

“On behalf of House Fortemps, I bid you welcome to Ishgard. My lord humbly requests your presence at his residence in the Pillars.” He then motioned toward the stairs before turning heel to lead the way. “If you all would come with me…”

Once the manservant’s back had been turned, Tataru had looked over at Nomin, her expression falling to concern. In response, all Nomin could do was shake her head, though a smile was not forthcoming. She had decided, after all, that if this was the best way to keep Tataru and Alphinaud safe from the prying force of Ul’dah and the Crystal Braves for their supposed crimes, then she would have to simply bear it.

The sting was nothing new, after all. It merely came in a different form.

Chapter Text

The Island Sanctuary had ever been a respite…and as such, it had always been home . Cyrielle and Fleurette had grown up here -- they knew just about all its secrets. Its calm, its anger, its bliss, its melancholy… They carved desire trails and stairs left and right, ever since they were tiny tots following at the heels of their mother and father. The island sheltered them when they explored and sudden storms hit.

The Island had provided much and more for the twins. The memories of such times was always cause for a small smile to creep onto Cyrielle's face when she peered up and looked around at the trees when she had teleported back onto its sandy shores. She was just glad that the island was not feeling particularly tempestuous this day as she took a deep breath of that tropical, salty air. With a slight pep to her step, Cyrielle walked up the path that led to the rest of the sanctuary.

Mammets had ever been hard at work, crafting and building things that would go out and get distributed to other shops and places in Eorzea and beyond, no doubt. Cyrielle could not think back to a time where she was not surrounded by the clockwork creations. They had been some of the only company back then…

"Cy! You're back!"

Cyrielle had turned and looked up the nearby flight of stairs. Standing up there was a younger individual -- her baby brother, Hamignant. He had a big grin on his face, and his hair had been mussed up surely from his own foray of running around the island to discover all the different secrets like she and Fleur did. In one of his hands, he had a bug net.

Smiling in response, Cyrielle adjusted the bag on her shoulder and waved up at him. "Sure am! You know where mother and father are?"

At the question, Hamignant leaned the bug net on the nearby railing, huffed, and folded his arms over his chest. It was hard to tell from where she was, but Cyrielle could swear that his brow had furrowed in annoyance.

"Some company came over…mum and dad have been with them for the better part of the day," Hamignant replied, frowning. "Some people from the Steppe."

At that, Cyrielle's own expression had fallen. Exhaling a low and silent sigh, she then asked, "do you know who?"

"Nuh-uh… There was a lady in yellow like the Oronir wear. Then there was also a man in red like the Mol…" Hamignant recalled, shaking his head momentarily. He started coming down the stairs, continuing: "mother and father told me to go ahead and explore the island near the mammets. I was catching some bugs."

Cyrielle hummed in thought. It had not been often that she had gone to the Steppe of her own volition. Not since their parents had taken them there when they were just a few summers younger than Hamignant. Representatives from the Oronir usually concerned the whole Steppe since they had been back in general power as the most powerful tribe. Thinking of that, she then asked, "well…has Fleur come back from her trip to Ul'dah?"

"No. She hasn't come back yet…"

Raising a hand to her chin in thought, Cyrielle soon shrugged it off with a small sigh. She would have to worry about it all later. She watched Hamignant make his way down the rest of the stairs before she took her bag and swung it around in front of her. Putting a smile on her face, she opened it and rummaged around, saying in a somewhat singsong tone: "we won't worry too much about that, then. Because guess what? While I was away in Ala Mhigo, I got you something~!"

Hamignant audibly gasped.

"Delights!? Did you bring back Ala Mhigan delights!?" Hamignant hopped from one foot to the next watching his older sister fish out a steel tin that had been painted red and gold. His eyes nearly shimmered with glee as a wide smile spread across his face. "You did, you did!"

"I did!" Cyrielle happily confirmed, popping the lid off and offering her younger brother his pick of the bunch. She watched as he plucked two of the rosy, sugared cubes and popped one into his mouth immediately with a hum of joy.

A moment passed where Cyrielle looked back behind her at the aetheryte shard that was used to teleport back onto the island. Her expression faltered somewhat, wondering if everything had been alright in Ul'dah. Normally, Fleurette had been the one to come back earlier than usual from meetings or requests to see about whatever political movements or meetings necessitated the Warrior of Light's presence or representation. Fleur had more of a penchant for that sort of thing, it felt like…

It had been unfortunate that it seemed political figureheads from the Steppe had taken it upon themselves to visit, potentially. Especially where their father had been concerned. Cyrielle could imagine him already: that stoney expression on his face, arms folded over his chest, and the restraint of wanting to run his problems through with Nidhogg. It would have been comical were it not for the rising need of their presence to attend separate meetings and events.

Cyrielle had only assumed as such since it was rare that they ever had visitors from any other tribes of the Steppe that were not of Sagahl. Anyone that had not been family had usually been either close friends of the family, or someone wanting something from the Warrior of Light in some capacity.

… Would that Cyrielle could oblige that much. Alas, it never seemed like she nor Fleur had their mother's raw strength, aether capacity, nor endurance. Sometimes they could stand toe to toe with their father, though that seemed to have been residual power of the actual Nidhogg of the Thousand Year War that had tied itself to their very aether. That had been…fun… Their father had been very particular about keeping their emotions in check, as had their mother.

"Hey, Hami…" Cyrielle started. "Do you ever want to be like mother or father?"

"Hm?" Hamignant chewed on his delight while thinking about the question. "I don't know. I guess they're both legendary, aren't they? But they haven't really done a lot of legendary things that I've seen."

Cyrielle chuckled softly. "No, I suppose they never really did when Fleur and I were your age, too…"

Hamignant was twelve summers Cyrielle and Fleurette's junior when it came to their age. Now at twenty and four summers, both Cyrielle and Fleurette had a taste for the adventuring lifestyle, but also more maturity when it concerned everything that ensured the peace that had been a slow process -- even when they barely understood it in summers past. Cyrielle kind of hoped that Hamignant did not hold their obligations against them.

"It's just a lot of talking, isn't it?" Hamignant said, pouting as he popped the other delight in his mouth. "Mum and father usually always have such meetings with these other old people that just want to talk about things that make no sense! They don’t do anything fun when those people are around."

"It'll make sense in time, Hami…" Cyrielle assured him. "Fleurette and I didn't always get it ourselves…but now that we do, trust me when I say that mum and dad just want what's best for all of us. Even if it feels like they don't. Night knows Fleurette and I got mad and frustrated when it felt like they ignored us or swept us aside to tend to other things…"

Finding a spot on the stairs, Cyrielle pat the empty space next to her. Hamignant went to sit beside Cyrielle, tapping the soles of his boots against the stone walkway. They idled in silence for a bit before Hamignant took up the tin and opened it for another delight.

Remembering his bug net, Cyrielle then asked: “so… You catch any interesting bugs at least?”

“Oh, yeah!” Hamignant had pulled his own, smaller bag out in front of him and pulled out a journal. He flipped it open and showed Cyrielle one of the newer pages that had been filled out with his drawings. They certainly were not on par with their mother’s, but Cyrielle had been really good at parsing out what his drawings were based on the colors and shapes he generally used. However, the newer drawings had definitely shown improvement since the last time she had seen anything he was willing to show her.

“Wow, look at that, you’re getting a lot better at that,” Cyrielle commented. She then smiled, pointing at the pink and white drawing. “You got to see an orchid mantis? That’s pretty rare -- especially so close to the workshops and granaries.”

“Mhm!” Hamignant then pointed to a speckled bug with green, black, and red markings. “I saw this one, too! I think mama called them painter bugs because they look like little bits of paint.”

“And you didn’t touch it, right?”

“No way! I haven’t forgotten about what mama said: they stink if they’re scared…”

“Okay, good. You know, Fleur and I learned that the hard way?” Cyrielle said, chuckling slightly.

“We learned what the hard way?” came a new voice. Up the stairs from the beach had been Fleurette walking through the pathways that connected the workshops together. Her long hair had been tied back into a bun, though the way she carried herself seemed to speak to the fact that she was incredibly tired.

“Hami was just showing me some of the bugs he found,” Cyrielle replied, not answering the question. She nudged Hamignant gently and said, “do you want to show Fleur, too?”

Getting up from his spot, Hamignant quickly jogged up to Fleurette and showed her his drawings.

“Oh..! You’re getting better at this!” Fleurette said, blinking as she looked over the different colored sketches on the page. “But I see now…you got to see one of those painter bugs, huh? Cyrielle and I came home after catching some, and mother took one sniff of our hands and made us wash them with soap and vinegar before we could even think about eating dinner that night.”

Hamignant made a face at that before closing his journal and tucking it back into his bag.

“I don’t know that mum and dad are going to have dinner ready tonight, though…” Hamignant mentioned before he told Fleur what he had told Cyrielle regarding the island visitors.

A sigh had fallen from Fleurette’s lips as she pushed some stray locks of hair from her face. She shook her head and then placed her hands upon her hips. “Well, then I’ll leave them to it. I’m not really interested in jumping from one meeting into the next. Mum and dad can surely handle themselves when it comes to the Steppe’s affairs…”

“Kind of my thought on it, too,” Cyrielle admitted with a nonchalant shrug to her shoulders. She then got up from her seat on the stairs and walked toward the other two. “Honestly, I’d rather see if we can find a place where we can wait for their guests to leave before going back to the house.”

“The treehouse, then?” Fleurette suggested. “Honestly, I’d like to just call it a day, but I’m not going to get dragged into any of the Steppe troubles if I can help it.”

“Do you both…hate the Steppe?” Hamignant asked, peering between his sisters curiously.

“Ugh…” Cyrielle groaned and frowned. “It’s not that we hate it. The general…culture is just something we never grew up with. We don’t know it like mother does. Our thoughts and opinions are typically regarded as being born of ignorance. Mother’s done all she could to teach us what she knows, but…I can’t see us ever really going back unless it was dire…”

“Doesn’t help that it sometimes feels like there are those that don’t necessarily agree with us merely for being half-auri and half-elezen. It’s hard to feel like we’re necessarily wanted to give any actual input. Mother gets the recognition we don’t,” Fleurette said. She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. “I think that’s why mum and dad don’t really go out of their way to bring you to the Steppe themselves, Hami. They already saw how we had typically been regarded that they probably just don’t want you to go through the same thing.”

“Well, I don’t really want to go to the Steppe…” Hamignant said, though he had not sounded indignant over the fact. He merely seemed to have been wanting to share that was his thought. He continued with, “I actually thought maybe going to Sharlayan would be nice. Mama said that Alphi and Ali studied there and were able to learn a whole bunch of things. Mama even told me about Labyrinthos at one point! I want to learn about more wildlife and plants there, where they have a whole bunch to study!”

“Huh…” Fleurette glanced over at Cyrielle who only met her gaze with a shrug. Looking back at Hamignant, Fleurette gave a small scoff before asking, “well…next time one of us has something to do in Sharlayan, want to come along?”

Hamignant’s eyes lit up immediately.

“You mean it? You’d let me come along!?”

“Well yeah, of course! As long as mum and dad were okay with it. Besides, how often do you get to see your amazing older sisters, eh?” Cyrielle asked, smirking as she placed her hands on her hips. “Pending on who goes, we can take you to the Noumenon, the Last Stand…uh…”

“There’s always the Studium, too,” Fleurette brought up. “If you’re serious about wanting to learn, that’s where you’d want to end up if you’re looking to become a student there.”

“Did you two study there?”

“Oh, Night, no,” Cyrielle laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “After mum and dad taught us a number of things about being a dragoon or using red magic, we actually went ahead and signed up for the Adventurers’ Guild in Limsa Lominsa. When was that…when we were about ten and six summers, wasn’t it?”

“About that. Shortly before our nameday at the time,” Fleurette said. She adjusted her own satchel and started walking, however, toward the direction of the treehouse that had been mentioned, waving a hand in the meantime. “Anyroad! I’m tired, and I want to get off my feet. I’ll see you at the hideout!”

Chapter Text

As it so happened, Sharlayan was on the list of okay places to have taken Hamingnant when it concerned traveling alongside either of his sisters. When the opportunity had come up, Fleur had been the one available to make the trip out there while Cyrielle had been off helping with some defense efforts alongside the Ala Mhigans and the Ananta against the threat of Lakshmi. Though Fleur was loath to imagine that she would not be needed as well, it was when she had received a linkpearl communication from her twin that everything had been proceeding apace.

So now, Fleurette had found herself at the docks of Sharlayan, Hamignant excitedly at her heels after roughly a moon or so at sea since he could not teleport there himself. It was a far sight better than the boredom that he had so freely expressed at being cooped up on the ship, that was for certain. At least the fishers had given him ample opportunity to show him new creatures that he could quickly sketch into his journals while Fleur had watched.

“Fleur, Fleur! Look! That’s Thaliak!” Hamignant excitedly pointed out the statue of the Scholar as he walked alongside her. He had every opportunity to point out the statue on the ship, but he seemed more stunned and taken with the fact that he was finally seeing Sharlayan outside of their mother’s paintings.

“He’s so big up there like that…and he looks just the way mum always described him when she talks about when she met with the Twelve herself!” Hamignant’s elation at being in Sharlayan was boundless. Even as he and Fleur went through customs to confirm their reason for visitation at the Worldly Affairs.

As always, Fleur had given her name as ‘Ishgardian name: Fleurette, Steppe name: Chotan, surname: Varlineau.’ It was nearly mechanical the way she had listed off everything that was required of her. Her occupation had been that of an adventurer, and representative of both the Warrior of Light and Vrtra of Radz-at-Han. Typically, her reason for visitation had been to provide assistance with unruly creatures within Labyrinthos, though this time she stated that she was being hired as a helping hand to the Isle of Hamm.

When it came to Hamignant, though, he had been more than excited to divulge much and more about himself that seemed to make the poor customs officer sit and endure it with a bit of a grimace forming on their face; “Ishgardian name: Hamignant, Steppe name: Esenaij, surname: Varlineau. I don’t have an occupation, but I’d like to learn stuff here, maybe even be a student at some point! I’m thinking I really want to just learn about entomology, arachnology, and stuff!”

Fleurette had only offered a sympathetic smile to the customs officer before they were finally cleared to go into the rest of the city. Telling Hamignant to stay close, Fleur had led the way past the Peristyle before pausing. She then pointed over toward the wooden pergola that stood tall over a deck-like structure next to a smaller building with an open-air front.

“Hungry?” Fleurette asked. “We can take a much needed detour to the Last Stand before we go ahead and tour around the rest of the city.”

“Of course I am!” Hamignant exclaimed, bringing a hand to his stomach. “You didn’t tell me that the boat ride would just be stale bread and tough, dried meat!”

“I thought mother implied as much when she packed you what she thought would last you. I warned you not to eat it all too fast,” Fleurette said, chuckling. She had sacrificed some of her own food just to make sure that Hami had been taken care of during their travels.

Hamignant grumbled something about not knowing about how long the trip would have actually taken before looking back to where the Last Stand was situated. He reached up and tugged at Fluerette’s arm, following along after her as she then led the way. Seeing the local students in their uniforms and coats made everything feel so official and clean.

The two of them had gotten themselves seated close to the railing overlooking the ocean after putting in their order. Hamignant was happily prattling away at his idea of what all the possibilities could be in studying bug biology and habitats in Sharlayan could mean for him. Admittedly, while Fleur had been glad that Hamignant found passion in actually pursuing the study of bugs because he found them fascinating, she had begun to tune him out.

It had not been until the arrival of some familiar faces to Fleur, at the very least, that she had looked up after they had called to her. A miqo’te with snowy white hair had waved to Fleur in particular, her other hand intertwined with that of a viera who had dusty brown hair and dappled markings on her ears.

“You know them, Fleur?” Hamignant asked, glancing over in the two women’s direction. He had not been too sure whether or not to wave back, so deferred to Fleurette.

“That’d be Izi and Lallerev. You ever get to meet mum’s friends from when she was an adventurer?” Fleur asked before waving back to them with a small grin. Hamignant shook his head in response, following her example, his wave had been a little more uncertain. This seemed to have been more than enough permission for the two to have come over.

“How long are you in the city, Fleur?” Izi asked, letting go of Lallerev’s hand and skipping forward to their table. She then looked at Hamignant and gasped, “is this your little brother? Aw, look at him! I can’t believe we’re finally getting to meet you. Hami, right?”

“Hamignant…” he replied, almost shyly. “Only Cy and Fleur get to call me Hami.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Hamignant,” Izi said, keeping a chipper smile on her face. “Well, I’m Izi Raha. Our mums used to travel together for a while. And this lovely bun over here is~”

“Lallerev Coerth,” the viera introduced herself rather plainly, a small, more reserved smile on her face. “Most of my friends just call me ‘Lolly’ or ‘Rev’ though.”

“It’s nice to meet you both…” Hamignant said, glancing in Fleur’s direction to let her take the lead on talking. He had not been used to too many people just walking up to him and making themselves friendly. He had been more okay when he got to walk up to others and speak more freely, though having someone that came off with about as powerful a personality as Cyrielle had been different.

“To answer your question, I don’t think I’ll be in the city long…” Fleur said, going back to the initial question Izi asked. “I have to help with Professor Dalnesi’s foray into the Isle of Hamm -- just to keep him protected from the other creatures that might be more inclined toward aggressive behaviors and attacking any of the professors or other visitors that are coming by.”

“Wait…where will I be, then?” Hamignant asked, realizing what that meant.

“Ameliance said she would be more than happy to have you come by the Leveilleur estate while I’m away. I thought I told you this while we were on our way here.”

“... I forgot.” Hamignant fidgeted, and then looked up when he saw Izi and Lallerev take up seats next to one another at their table.

“Don’t you worry about anything,” Fleur said, trying to be reassuring. “The estate is large and has a whole bunch of study material you could ask if you can look at. Alphi and Ali had to start somewhere, after all!”

Izi gasped, her feet tapping excitedly against the wood panels below her feet in rapid succession. “Are you going to be a student here, Hamignant!?”

“... Maybe?” Hamignant trepidatiously answered the question.

An enthusiastic squeal had been made before Izi uncontrollably reached over for Lallerev’s shoulder and shook her. “You can hang out with me! I can show you all around Sharlayan! The Noumenon -- one of the largest libraries ever! Oh! And I can introduce you to so many professors at the Studium, including my mother! I don’t know if she teaches what you’re interested in, but she’s really well versed and traveled, which leads to her coveted classes for histories of civilizations studies!”

Hamignant had almost replied that he looked forward to it, though was silenced when a server had come by with their order. Suddenly, the excitement for having a tour through Sharlayan turned into excitement for having proper food . After all, the two large and fluffy pancakes that sat in front of him towered with powdered sugar sprinkled on top with a pap of butter melting on it. He felt his mouth water, wanting after the last couple weeks living off of nuts, crackers, dried meat, aaruul, and water.

“I hope your eyes aren’t as big as your stomach, Hami… You are going to eat all of that, right?” Fleur asked, concerned as the bowl of skyr topped with skyon compote was placed in front of her. She offered a small word of thanks to the server before she picked up her spoon and started on her meal.

“I’m gonna eat every last bite!” Hami said, taking his fork and happily cutting into the thick pancake.

“I’ll hold you to that, because I don’t want to be the one eating every last bite when you’ve only eaten a quarter.”

Chapter Text

Coming back to Gridania after dungeon crawling and traveling the lands had been an amazing respite. However, Nomin had lamented how worn her shoes had ended up becoming since she and the others had done more and more for the Scions and general Adventurers' Guild. Sitting upon a stool at their usual table in the Carline Canopy, Nomin had brought one of her feet up over her knee to get a look at the soles of her boots. A frown grew on her face as she sighed with a hint of frustration.

"Something eating you, Nomin?" Ralne asked, folding her arms over top of the table as she leaned forward.

"Ground's just been getting more and more noticeable going from place to place…" Nomin remarked, running a finger over the worn rubber of her sole and noticing how thin it really felt as she could feel her finger through the wear. “I might have to find someone who can either fix them up, or sell me some new ones.”

“Have you tried looking at the Fen-Yll line of leatherworks?” Lorha asked, placing her bag on the table. “I hear the Guildmaster that runs the line is quite particular about the quality of the products sold. I mean…a lot of their bags get used by scholars in Sharlayan because of how long they last. I imagine their boots and shoes would be ideal and more than fit for travel.”

Nomin placed her foot back on the ground, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

“I suppose I could do that while we’re here… If I recall, the Leatherworkers’ Guild is just a small walk away from the Shaded Bower stalls…” Nomin then smiled to herself. “But let’s go ahead and get something to eat before we tackle anything else. I can’t imagine talking to anyone else without getting at least something in my stomach.”

“Best thing you’ve said yet today,” R’ayzel commented, turning her head to look over to where one of the waiters were so that she could flag them down.

“No order in advance, no product. Now if you would, we have a number of actual orders to get ready and fulfill.”

Nomin stood there, stunned at the idea that she would have had to have placed an order in advance to ask for some shoes that she could have for the road.

“I…but…h-how do I even submit an order? How long would I have to wait?” Nomin asked, her words sputtering in disbelief. She had never encountered such a requirement when she had traded in places like Reunion or Kugane in the past. Ul’dah’s Sapphire Avenue Exchange, even with as crowded as it was, had been easy enough to navigate.

“Listen…” the woman at the counter said, placing a box down with a restrained huff so as not to dent the boxes with her impatience. “The Fen-Yll name is known all across the realm of Eorzea. You can’t just stroll in here and expect to be placed as the priority customer. Even if you’ve got deep pockets like some of the Syndicate members in Ul’dah.”

“I…then…then can I make an order now? How long will I be on the waiting list?” Nomin asked, feeling some semblance of being overwhelmed by this whole experience.

“A couple moons, maybe? Could even be a couple years…”

Nomin’s mouth fell agape at the idea of waiting years just for boots.

“How are adventurers supposed to have wares ready for them and the jobs they take on?” It was a genuine question steeped in apparent disbelief.

“They buy other shoes from the markets, sweet thing. And then they use those for however long it takes their order to be ready. Now, if you don’t mind , I am quite busy making sure everything gets out on time. Fen-Yll ensures quality in everything.” The shop clerk had removed another box from a shelf, her attention firmly set on checking the dates that were tacked on the memos on them.

Suppressing a sigh of both irritation and that residing disbelief, Nomin turned for the doors and left the establishment. It was only after she had allowed the doors to close behind her that she let out a little grunt of frustration at what felt like a ridiculous situation. She then sighed finally and tried to rationalize it in her head -- that if she were selling paintings, and they needed to be a certain kind of painting, she might have to have a waitlist, too.

Still, though…she would have thought that the shop would have had goods that were for sale, though it seemed that whatever goods could be seen were simply for display.

Making her way over toward the Shaded Bower, Nomin meandered till she had been in the Rosewood Stalls. She peered at the wares that had been for sale -- tabards, gauntlets, lances, canes…things that were all very suited for those that attended the guilds of Gridania. She finally made her way toward someone that had boots and shoes on display, and met the merchant’s smile with a halfhearted one of her own.

“Um…do you have anything suited for an adventurer?” Nomin finally asked, doing her best to sound more neutral rather than anything else.

“Depends… Are you a spell caster of sorts? Are you more versed with martial weapons, perhaps? Maybe you prefer using a bow and arrow?” the merchant questioned, bringing a hand to his chin.

“I use a bow and a lance,” Nomin replied. “Honestly, I’m just looking for something that keeps my feet and shins pretty well protected without hampering my movement. Nothing overly armored. Hardened leather, or something.”

Hesitating, Nomin leaned down and unlaced one of her boots before taking it off her foot and held it up. She showed off the wear and tear, mostly on the underside, but it also looked like the seams were also coming loose from the sole as well, creating little gaps where her toes or heel could peek through.

“I see! If that’s what you’re looking for, let’s see if I can find you something…” the merchant said, taking the boot from Nomin and using it to compare sizes between it and newer boots. Eventually, he had come back with three other pairs of boots that were roughly the same length and size that would fit Nomin and placed them in front of her. He then pointed between each one: “this one’s a more local one, hardy for sure, though with a hint of suppleness. Then we have raptor leather -- not as comfortable at first, but once broken in, is much more protective, especially with the treated scale hide. Last is peiste leather from the basilisks of northern Thanalan; it’s a little bit of the best of both worlds, and therefore a little more pricey. But if you have the gil to spare, it’s certainly worth it.”

Eyeing the peisteskin boots, Nomin then cautiously asked, “... How much?”

“It’ll run you up about three-thousand-five-hundred gil.”

Nomin tapped her thighs for a moment, furrowing her brow in thought. Between herself, Ralne, R’ayzel, and Lorha, they had amassed quite a bit for themselves. More now, since they had proven themselves pretty capable in the eyes of both the Adventurers’ Guild and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

That was when Minfilia’s words echoed in her mind.

“We are fortunate to have a number of influential allies, and at a word from me, they will gladly afford you certain privileges that might otherwise be denied you.”

For a moment, Nomin considered going back to the Fen-Yll Fineries building and bringing up the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, though quickly reconsidered. After all, this merchant had gone out of his way to take a look at her own boot, the wear of it, and even asked about what kind of general adventuring lifestyle she led that would have allowed him to pick one he felt was most suited for her. So, tentatively, Nomin reached for her gil pouch and counted out her coin, soon placing the appropriate amount that she had to buy them.

“The soles won’t wear out too quickly on these, will they?” Nomin asked.

“They’ll last you a while, so long as you don’t make a habit of traveling close to flames where the rubber might give,” the merchant said in a joking manner. He then put the other boots that Nomin had not made an effort to look at, and made sure the amount paid was enough before sliding the boots in question forward. “And if you need any repair work done, I think I might be able to help you out there. So long as the boots haven’t been ripped to shreds.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you…” Nomin looked at the sign at the stall and read it. Worldly Treads . Something she would absolutely have to remember the next time if the shoes served her well.

Chapter Text

Thunk!

…

Thunk!

…

Thunk!

Nomin, brow furrowed, hands wrapped, had been taking some of the training spears that were situated close by and throwing them as hard as she could at the wood targets that had been set up. At the very least, she was getting better at her throwing aim.

Walking toward her target, Nomin had pulled the spears free of it, collecting them and bringing them back. She was alone -- perhaps for the best. She had been in her own head lately, thinking about the punishment she had endured a fortnight ago at that point. Her bruises had faded for the most part. Only some minor discoloration was evident on some parts of her skin, but honestly, it had been hard to tell.

“This is what you’re deciding to do with your free time?” came a familiar voice, amusement evident within it. Nomin looked up and saw Chotan standing at the nearby weapons rack. She offered a small smile, holding back a giggle.

“You have any better plans or ideas for what I should do?” Nomin asked, apathetically tossing the spears onto the ground at her feet. She then leaned down and picked one of them up, taking aim and then throwing it forward. It sailed through the air before it hit the target with yet another thunk !

“I thought you’d be taking time to paint or something.”

“With what ?” Nomin asked, mild indignation rising up. “I have nothing in terms of paints aside from greens, browns, and blacks…”

She picked up another spear, chucking it.

Thunk!

“You could still sketch, maybe?” Chotan suggested. “You spend so much time training… Checheyigen and I have been worried, you know? We don’t get to see you too often. Not outside of waking up…”

“I have to get myself trained up,” Nomin replied simply, picking up the third spear. “We aren’t getting out of this godsdamned orda, so I might as well--” thunk! “--train up… If they want a warrior to send out against the Kharlu for their stupid rivalry, then fine. I’ll become a warrior.”

‘And I’ll make them regret they ever wanted me in their numbers…’ Nomin bitterly thought to herself, going over and retrieving each of the spears once again. She had been ruminating deeply upon how she had been feeling since her first severe punishment. Though she had made a promise to herself the first night of their abduction, it was now that she had experienced an epiphany.

“Just…be mindful, Nomin…” Chotan said with a small sigh. “I’d rather you not blunt your body in your endeavor. You need to rest sometimes, too.”

Nomin paused, her lips pursing together as she looked down at the spears in her possession. She had been doing relatively well in regards to perfecting her aim -- whether it was the aim of her shooting her arrows, or the aim of throwing a spear. She had also been conscientious enough to take what she had overheard from other Jhungid trainees to heart: stretching in the morning and stretching at night made a world of difference.

“You really don’t need to worry overmuch about me, Chotan,” Nomin finally replied, efforting a smile as she looked up at her friend. “I’ll blunt steel before I blunt myself.”

Chotan’s lips curved into a deep frown. “See, you say that but you keep pushing yourself every day , Nomin. Not only that, but some nights you just return to us, battered and bro--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Nomin’s expression steeled as she barked her words. Her grip had tightened on the spear shaft before she tore her gaze away from Chotan. “Just…don’t…”

Even before Nomin had snapped at her, Chotan’s hands had flown to her mouth with a small gasp of realization.

“I-I’m sorry, Nomin…I didn’t mean-- You know I wouldn’t go out of my way to say something to offend--”

“I know …just…” Nomin sighed irritably. She thought to herself that Chotan must have known by now. Why Nomin had gone out of her way to train so tirelessly every day. At least in some respect. Be it some kind of surface level of even just the fact that Nomin also wanted to beat the shite out of other pureblood Jhungid trainees. “It’s fine. Sorry, Chotan…it’s a silly word to yell at you over, I know.”

“No it’s not…I…I should have known better than to mindlessly use it knowing what the others say…” Chotan replied, showing her level of maturity. It was clear to Nomin that Chotan exhibited more maturity and poise when it came to handling her emotions. In some way, Nomin had been a little envious of this fact.

“It’s a common word, it’s…again, it’s fine…” Nomin dug her feet in, trying to grab a hold of her own emotions. After all, most of her rage and anger should have been saved and directed at the Jhungid, not her fellow Sagahl. She collected the training spears and went to put them away. “I guess I have been training too much. We speak of blunting this or that, all I’ve done is blunt these blades more than they already are.”

“Ever consider you might also be a little hungry?” Chotan posited.

Placing the last spear away, Nomin felt her stomach grumble, causing her to scoff. Looking back over at Chotan, she then said, “now that you mention it, I guess I could get something to eat.”

Chapter Text

“You stand here in contravention of the law,” said an official who stood outside the dark, stone gaol cell that Nomin had been thrust into. She could make neither heads nor tails of their appearance, for they wore a cloak that enshrouded them.

“What did I do ?” Nomin asked, folding her arms defiantly. “I’ve abided by your laws so far as I know.”

“You have committed obscene acts within the residential districts, causing offense to those residing there.”

“ What ?” Nomin’s jaw dropped. She had not recalled stripping her clothes and running about, bare as the day she was born. Nor did she recall throwing insults and offensive terms toward anyone that had been within the area -- if there even was anyone in the area! All she remembered was spending time with her friends that had lived there.

Shaking her head and gathering her bearings, she then asked, “and what was this obscene behavior?”

“Shrill and manic laughter that was the cause for disturbance for one of the residents.”

Nomin squinted, her mouth still stuck agape at the news.

“I was…put in here…for laughing?” Nomin slowly questioned, wanting to get the facts straight.

“For disturbing the peace, yes.”

“I see. I did not realize those of such delicate sensibilities were taken so seriously here.”

Chapter Text

"I'll be staying behind in Ishgard. My duty here is not yet done," had been Ralne's response to Nomin when contacted over the linkpearl. Since Ralne had recovered from her own wounds, she returned to Ishgard, where she had been entrusted by Aymeric with overseeing change within the Temple Knights. With her time among the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss, Ralne had been skilled enough to do things Lucia had sometimes done at Aymeric’s side.

"I couldn't possibly, Nomin… Now that I've returned here to Sharlayan from the Rising Stones, I have so much that I must document for myself and future generations! We were a major part of history and the shape of it, Nomin! I couldn't possibly go with you -- even if I'd love to… Oh! But Raha might want to go! I'll just ask him for all of the details after!" And that had been the excitable, yet somewhat disappointing answer from Lorha when it concerned the map that Estinien had bought.

It was not as if Lorha had not brought up some good points -- she had ever been a scholar of Sharlayan, much like many of the other Scions. She always found love and passion when it came to learning about the histories of places, so hearing her turn down the idea of finding these ruins beneath the Bounty had been somewhat of a shock.

As for R’ayzel…

"No go on their ends, eh?" R'ayzel asked once they had been seated at a table in Mehryde's Meyhane. She looked at Nomin’s slumped form over the table, an amused smirk present on her lips. Out of everyone from Nomin’s beginnings of adventuring in Eorzea, only R’ayzel had answered the call -- which had been in person given that she had stayed in Thavnair in order to simply sample the local cuisine and sights after the Scions had disbanded. She had nothing better to do -- so she claimed. So here she sat, ready and raring to go.

“Didn’t sound like it…” Nomin replied in an almost defeated manner. Pushing herself back up with a small sigh, Nomin looked over at R'ayzel. "I guess I could actually go and ask G'raha or Y'shtola… I do have reason to return to Sharlayan, even if only for a small time. I can ask G’raha and Y’shtola if they would have interest in-person.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Only if you want.”

“I can’t imagine you not wanting some friends tagging along,” R’ayzel grinned. “After the whole disbandment business, we all went separate ways for the most part, eh? I can’t say Estinien’s been the best company since I’ve lingered around Thavnair -- what with him helping Vrtra’s Radiant Host. Not that I much prefer going out of my way to meet with him. I’m surprised he even had time to roam the markets.”

A small smile crept onto Nomin’s face.

“I appreciate the company, certainly,” Nomin said. “I actually kind of hope more things like this come up in time. The company and camaraderie between everyone else…I think I would miss it if we were really to go our separate ways and not go out on excursions like the one ahead of us.”

“Quite the admission all things considered,” R’ayzel chuckled.

“Yea, yea…” Nomin rolled her eyes with an amused scoff. “But at least I’ve gone back to the Steppe and mended those bridges… I’m really glad I did, too. It…it was still so amazing to have seen so many from the Steppe band together and fight a common enemy like they did.”

R’ayzel’s expression softened at Nomin’s words. “It shall certainly be interesting to see if the amity between the Steppe tribes will last from what I’ve heard from you and seen for myself.”

Nomin’s brow rose momentarily as she chuckled lightly. "I'm hoping that it lasts…but culture and tradition might keep the drive for tribal conflict strong."

Mihleel had come by, fresh made raptor tandoori steaming on plates ready to eat in her possession. She greeted the two amicably before placing their orders down along with some naan. Both Nomin and R'ayzel watched after her before they started on their meals, still speaking on their thoughts and idle musings.

"Still, though…the adventure up to this point has been filled with so many unexpected turns," Nomin recollected. "I'm just…I'm glad things have mostly turned out for the best at the end of everything. It's hard to believe sometimes -- so much of it is surreal, even now."

"You're telling me!" R'ayzel chortled, taking a bite of her tandoori. "T' fink we'h all jus' been coastin' frew, pih'kin up allies an'--" she swallowed, "--and all kinds of different bits of trouble along the way."

"Pfft…" Nomin blew a small raspberry, taking a bite of her food. She chewed and swallowed, thinking how, even if they had all changed and grown throughout their journey, there were still some aspects there that remained with them. Like R'ayzel's poor table manners.

Honestly, Nomin found herself so grateful that she could sit there at the table with R’ayzel so at ease, excited for a new adventure. Just like she had when she had first met with Lorha in Gridania nearly six summers ago.