#Tugan Kharlu

[afreesworn]

28: Vainglory

Gashuul’dyn. It was said the ancient horn was carved from the bones of a titan now lost to history. 

The warriors on the field oft spoke of its deep timbre when it bellowed over the plains, its hail resonating through the earth beneath their feet. Not only did it command the winds to spur them into battle, but the will of the land as well. 

So how was it that the very thing that began the day of blood also called for its end? 

Tugan Kharlu stared at the long aged instrument with disdain. It was kept in a shrine built within the mountain overlooking the coastlands, and guarded by the previous victors of the annual war.

The shamans spoke of the revered relic with such awe. Stories were passed down through the generations that the artifact was left by the gods, to echo the sadness between the ever parted day and night. It was granted to the children of Azim and Nhaama, as a way to ease the passing of souls onto the next life, to call the spirits forth from the fallen bodies so that they did not lose their way.

These stories were all foolish and romantic depictions in the Kharlu’s eye.

Tugan cared not for the lore that was tied to gods, or honor, or love. As long as it fed the unending cycle of battle, allowed him to ride into the plains upon his stallion and cut down his enemies with abandon, he cared not what stories the old woman spun by the fire. The day of blood was a day of glory; bloodlust and violence were not only needed but celebrated, the only day when acts of brutality ruled supreme.

But he hated the fact that such a mournful wail would end such a mighty spectacle, muting the grandeur of his victories. Even when the Kharlu had lost more than the Junghid, the blood of those that had fallen at his feet made his body burn with exhilaration.

The song of Gashuul’dyn did not recognize his triumph. It only called forth the tears of bereaved wives and the whimpering of children. It diminished the display of superiority through strength, and lamented the beastiatlity that was at the heart of all men. Tugan believed that such a contest deserved a roar to shake the heavens. He deserved something far more than Gashuul’dyn to welcome him home.

Tugan walked out of the shrine, vowing to himself that one day, he would claim the seat of Khan and shatter the cursed horn to pieces. And in its place, he would erect a bonfire so tall that only those who survived the day of blood would be able to see their might truly celebrated.

[sentryandco]

Prompt #17: Obeisant

Arasen had long become hardened to the glares, the looks of disapproval and distrust that most never bothered to hide from their faces. His father had always made his displeasure known to his own offspring -- a son of a powerful warlord who wanted nothing of battle. It was a lingering sore to the mighty warrior’s pride, and had Tugan Kharlu had his way, his first born would have been left out in the prairie in the cold of night, for the wolves to devour.

“Take the screaming whelp away,” his father had ordered. “The gods have cursed him and taken his mind. This is no blessing.”

Even now, Arasen remembered those words, and the disgust that burned in his father’s eyes like embers. He was but a child, looking to his parent for succor when the grisly visions his young eyes were not prepared for still came for him, but instead he was cast out to die like a wild animal.

It was only by the grace of Siban, the only woman in the tribe who might have had more sway than the warlord, that the bedeviled youth was saved. She took him in to nurture him through his torment wrought by hallucinations, somehow able to pierce through his endless wails to lend soothing words. While Bayanbataar nor Tugan approved of her decision, neither challenged it, for who would dare defy the gods? As eccentric as she was, none could ever question her visions, not even the Khan.

So it was to Siban that Arasen owed his life, and it was to her that he would bow his head in earnest when sanity returned to him. To the rest, Arasen learned quickly how to act, to show deference when he felt nothing but disdain in his heart. His greatest test of his pretense was when he bent his knees, his forehead lowered to the ground in obeisance, in front of his father who had once sentenced him to death. Tugan had no choice then but to accept him back as his blood, for the boy had since been ordained by Siban that he too had been gifted with the Sight, and would learn under the old woman.

But the glower never faded from his father’s face. There was no hint of pride that a sire might show his cub; it was as if his progeny was a stranger to him. Tugan was too proud of a creature to hide his feelings, so the rest of the tribe also began to mirror his father’s wariness. If the eldest son could not earn the approval of the second most powerful warlord in the tribe, no one else dared to show him respect either. So as Arasen matured, he became very skilled at plucking even the sliver of distaste behind people’s mannerisms, even when they were disguised. It also begot numerous calluses around his heart, for if he could not be hurt, he was all the more able to maintain his composed veneer. It became his way of survival, and eventually, his means of realizing his destiny.

So the daggers thrown his way in the way of scowls by the crew of the Wavecutter pained him not. As he made his way off the Confederate ship, he merely curled a polite smile and offered a nod in Shigeyori’s direction before disembarking. But once his feet touched upon the pier and his face was no longer visible to any of them, Arasen was relieved to be finally free of their scrutiny.

The events of the day had taken their toll, even on him. And nearly drowning in the sea was the least of it. More than nearly losing his life, it was the moments of complete honesty that lingered with him still.

Nabi had glimpsed his darkness. His willingness for cruelty as he had shown her. It was his knee-jerk response to the gentleness that she showed him. Was vindictiveness the only thing he could offer in return for kindness? Was it the only thing he was capable of?

The younger Kharlu peered up at his warden that walked in front of him as he was led through the beach of Onokoro. His exchange with Batuhan still weighed his mind, along with doubts he held for the others, and the dread of what the judgement his cousin would bestow on him. But despite his trepidation he followed, until all the eyes of those who mattered were on him. Did they burn with hatred? Were they cold with indifference? Darkened with misgivings?

It wouldn’t have pained him. He had not felt the weight of such things for as long as he could remember. He should have been able to meet all of them without cowering, as he had done all these years. His faith in his path and his belief in himself had dulled any ache it would have wrought. But when his amber gaze were met by a pair of warmer golden eyes, Arasen could not deny that single pang deep within.

He wasn’t allowed to wallow in that strange sensation. With a pointed look from Batuhan, Arasen dropped to his knees and lowered his head onto the sands, his hands placed humbly upon his lap. He bowed deeply in front of Nabi, no matter what her guardians wished for his fate.

“I’ve come to beg you for your forgiveness, cousin.”

[sea-and-storm]

FAVOR :  Ghoa Drabble ;

TW:  Beware all ye who enter, for under the cut lie mentions of death and grieving, vague implication of sexual assault, and all around not great feels. Take care of yourself and pass this one up if this sort of thing will upset you! ♥

Once the door clicked softly shut behind her, Ghoa leaned against it, letting her head tilt backwards and her eyes fall shut. A quiet, drawn out sigh escaped from between her parted lips. The arm from which the bag of foodstuff hung shifted to let it gingerly slide down to rest on the floor by her feet, and then returned upwards to clutch tight around the small box she still held within her grasp.

For a moment, she simply listened intently for any sounds of life present in the apartment. Yet the only sound that reached her was the almost inaudible ticking of a clock hung upon the wall nearby. Her eyes batted open again a moment later to look around, to find the space just as bereft of movement as it was sound.

"Lehko'a..?" the Xaela called softly, uncertainly, and waited.. When a few ticks passed and the silence and stillness continued, she was convinced that the other must have stepped out for a time. And for that, for having the apartment all to herself for a short while, she was relieved.

Ghoa still had secrets of her own, things she hadn't told him. Things she didn't want to tell him, though not for lack of love. There were skeletons in her closet that she didn't care to dwell upon in her thoughts, much less breathe life into all over again by speaking of them aloud. Yet Arasen's prodding but a short while ago had her doing just that very thing, and now she needed some time alone to think, to stuff all the skeletons back into the closet they belonged in.

And she could not do that with Lehko'a about, with how well he could read her even when she was trying her best to put on a front. She couldn't pack everything back into the boxes they had come out of if he was there, worrying over her. Even if he wouldn't push her to tell him what was on her mind, she wouldn't be able to handle the guilt tying her stomach into knots if she once more subjected him to such concern without telling him why. Not when her botched attempt at dealing with the aftermath of the ruins by herself was still such a fresh, barely healed wound between them already already.

Finally pushing away from the door, the petite Xaela grabbed the bag from its resting place by her feet and moved to the small kitchenette, setting it down again alongside the box of reagents atop the table. She would worry about sorting everything away into its rightful place later. Right now, she felt the water -- with all its safety and warmth and comfort -- calling for her.

Hurried footfalls brought Ghoa to the bath, and there she wasted not a single tick in turning the knobs of the ivory tub to get the water going. With the temperature set, she added a healthy pour of bath oils and soaps coax it to life in a fragrant froth. It took but a moment for her to peel off clothing and toss it haphazardly aside, and only once the bath was almost too full did she slowly, carefully step inside and sink into its depths. A soft sound of contentment left her as she leaned back comfortably, until her head came to rest against its edge.

Warm bath water may not have been the same as the cool, refreshing touch of the sea against her skin, but it was a comfort nonetheless, not to mention far more private.

Her head tilted back further still until her eyes, half-lidded, were staring upwards and unfocused towards the ceiling. Her mind began to drift back to the conversation still fresh on her mind. To the request that had been made of her:  convincing Nabi to return with her cousin to the coastlands to avoid the ill fate he had forseen. To convince her that the pain of choosing to leave those she cared for now would be far less than the heartbreak of losing them for good, and knowing that she could have prevented it by leaving them sooner.

Yet somewhere in the back of her mind, a distant little voice tried to coax her to reconsider. 'Haven't you already tried that very thing before, yourself?,' it whispered. 'Don't you remember how poorly that always ends?' Her brows furrowed at the thought, at the uncomfortable memories that those silent words tugged at. 'Don't you remember..?'

But then there was Arasen's voice, following quickly on the heels of that faint flicker of doubt.

"I… sense that you have experienced something similar. You survived. You are a stronger woman," he had told her. "My cousin… she is a delicate thing. I don't know if she would live through this."

He was right, of course. Ghoa had survived Ino's death and all of the guilt that it had laid upon her shoulders, though the process had been far from easy and certainly not pretty.

She had had to flee the memories to another land, spending several moons -- cycles, even -- just barely coping. And there had been no few times then that she had wondered if there would ever come a time that she no longer felt the crushing weight of guilt and sadness upon her. On more than a few occasions had she laid awake at night and wondered if it were even worth trying, if giving up would hurt less in the end. But she had come out of it eventually, even if the scars it had left behind were still tender to this day.

Could Nabi survive that same ordeal? It was hard for Ghoa to imagine. Her stubbornness and ever-present refusal to just lay down and suffer quietly had eventually carried her through it. Yet would Nabi have that same instinct, or would doubt and sadness swallow her whole like it had almost done to her? Somehow, the latter seemed more likely an outcome.

So, Arasen was right again, it would seem. It was best that Nabi go with him, for her own sake. Yet that didn't make the thought of her leaving them any less painful. She was a dear, dear friend;  at this point, she might as well have been family to Ghoa, or the closest she had ever gotten to having one.

And to think that she would be encouraging Nabi not only to leave them, but to go somewhere that she would be right under the nose of two of the men that Ghoa hated and feared most. Men whose cruelty had left her with injuries that, over ten cycles later, still showed no signs of healing completely. What if she encouraged Nabi to go, only for her to befall some similarly foul fate at their hands? The thought of that alone terrified her, making her stomach roil with nausea.

But.. Arasen's plan was a solid one, admittedly. Sow the seeds of anger, suspicion, and humiliation between the two most powerful and influential of the Kharlu, and let the chaos that ensued provide a distraction to keep their eyes upon each other, rather than Nabi's presence.

And the lie -- or, for all she knew, potential truth -- that Ghoa had given him to use to instigate the conflict was a solid one. The likelihood that it would work was high, she felt. And though she herself had never really lusted for vengeance or justice from either of them, it was still oddly cathartic to think of the possibility:  to weaponize the hurts they had inflicted upon her to not only put them at odds with one another, but if all went to plan, indirectly leading to their downfall once the yearly war was ended and peace reigned. But most important of all, without a doubt, was ensuring that Nabi was safe and protected.

Still, as she lingered upon the thought, the frown she wore began to tug the corners of her lips further downward. Her brow knitted, and after a moment, there was a faint trembling to her bottom lip. The hurt was beginning to blossom anew in her chest, even keener than before.

All of this was too much. Arasen might have complimented her strength earlier, but even Ghoa had her limits. Now that she was alone with everything -- the pain of a loss that had not happened yet, the uncertainty of what it would bring, and the sickening phantom feeling of hands upon her body -- she could feel that defensive wall quickly beginning to crack under pressure.

Yet before Lehko'a made it home, she would be sure to put that back together, too. And then, come the next day, she would find the strength to do what needed to be done.

[sea-and-storm]

CIGARETTES & FIREFLIES DRABBLE MASTERPOST -- - -

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

FIGHTING PITS ARC -- -

TOO LITTLE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave, Lehko'a Nhali.

TOO LATE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

EXPECTING THE WORST - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nabi Kharlu.

CROWDS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave.

THE PACKAGE - Hisanobu's Perspective MENTIONS: Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

GARDENIA - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Elam Grave.

WEAKNESSES - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Hisanobu Mifune, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn.

DEAREST NABI - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

INDISPENSIBLE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn.

OPPORTUNITY - Saya's Perspective MENTIONS: Saya Mifune, Hisanobu Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

DOUBLE OR NOTHING - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka, Saya Mifune, Shael Stormchild.

ESCAPE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka, Musa, Hikomoro, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Tserende Valqirelle.

NEVER BEEN BETTER - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Elam Grave.

FAREWELLS, PT. 1 - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

FAREWELLS, PT. 2 - Saya's Perspective MENTIONS: Saya Mifune, Hisanobu Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka.

FAREWELLS, PT. 3 - Hisanobu's Perspective MENTIONS: Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

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

FLOWER ARC -- -

LUCKY - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Batuhan Kharlu.

PROOF - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Akhutai Khatayin, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

NIGHTMARE (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Ino Ghostwalker, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

COMFORT (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Nabi Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Otsuyu.

STARLIGHT - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Shael Stormchild, Anchor Saltborn, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu.

FAVOR (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Arasen Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

BENEATH THE WAVES - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Shael Stormchild.

CRUX (TW) - Arukh's Perspective MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Chakha Kharlu.

MUSTER - Arukh's Perspective MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad.

SWAY - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu.

ANSWERS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Galdan Kharlu, Tseren Kharlu, Maa Kharlu, Chakha Kharlu.

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

CORRUPTION ARC -- -

REFLECTIONS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu.

NOSTALGIA - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Anchor Saltborn, Naseem Malakar, Farrah Malakar, Bashir Malakar, Leila Malakar.

MISTAKES WERE MADE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor.

CROSS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor, Luri Kai.

CHANNEL - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Luri Kai, Nabi Kharlu, Estrid Nylor, Egil Nylor, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild.

YAWN - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Luri Kai, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor.

[sentryandco]

Prompt #1: Voracious

"More. I need more.”

It was not enough. No matter how much was spilled, it was not enough.

The irises remained impassive as ever, their ebony petals swaying in the slight breeze. Their velvety skin wore numerous beads of crimson, and yet nothing happened. Were they not hungry? Did they not yearn to drink of life? Toragana glared at the circular stony enclosure, the bed of flowers that sat in the center of this ancient place. It was her altar, born of the earth and a resting place for the gift of the gods. She could feel the threads of magic woven thickly into the soil, and the very air itself tingled against the runes engraved upon her face. She had offered them what they wanted. And yet, the gods were silent. The sacrifice ignored.

As another body was dragged off, she could hear the murmurs all around. So many were wavering. Losing their purpose. Weaklings.

“We have no more,” another voice murmured fearfully behind her. “She was our last.”

“Then get more,” the udgan hissed, spinning around sharply, her blood-soaked robe billowing out, and it seemed as though a sea of red was pouring down the steps she stood upon. “Tell the son of Tugan none of them were worthy. They could not bear the the true mark.”

Many bowed in deference, or fear -- she cared not -- but she could see the glances of apprehension that they exchanged, she had heard the whispers on the wind. Some were starting to falter in their devotion. Unwilling to dirty their hands so that they may bring everyone else salvation.

Toragana’s chin tilted arrogantly. Her conviction would never break. This was but a trial, to cull their numbers of the disbelievers. This path could not allow for the weak of heart. The white limbal rings of her eyes dimmed, all light disappearing from her dark gaze, as she scanned those gathered, for the weakest amongst them.

“No need,” a booming voice cut through the thick tension, drawing all eyes, including that of the udgan, to the towering figure that entered the atrium.

“My lord.” Toragana bowed deeply from her waist, displaying due reverence to the warlord that led them all. Kiratai was the weapon she would wield for the gods, but to everyone else, this Jhungid warlord was the leader in their hearts, not her.

“We have received word.” A slow smile crept along the warrior’s scarred face. “One of the Kharlu has located the lost daughter. The son of Tugan will head to the Reunion to meet with her.” He turned to one of the warriors standing near and jutted his chin. “He wants a welcome party. Send able men.” A twisted look of amusement crossed the warlord’s face. “He just asks that none be killed.”

Toragana stared almost unbelieving. Finally. She was found. The last piece to the prophecy. An awed sigh left her parted lips, but that was the moment the gods would grant her a glimpse. The pale band around her pupils suddenly glowed bright, white light suddenly encompassing everything between her lids. And she saw.

Kiratai was no longer living, but he was something more. Something that hungered. There was blackness in him that seethed, spilling forth ravenous and deranged. There were others: she saw a giant sword stained with blood, veins glowing with both light and sickness, and a crackle of lightning.  And beyond it all, she saw a hint of a golden glimmer, a warmth that had been too long absent. She reached for it, and all the shadows coiled and shot out from her hand, wanting to snatch what she had been longing for so long.

With a gasp, the vision was no more. Kiratai stood next to her, his large hand steady upon her bony shoulder. He regarded her with care, his eyes darting between hers. A fierce warrior he was, but she mattered to him. Toragana could not say the same.

“What did you see?” he inquired, curious.

The white limbal rings had faded to pale sliver as the udgan looked up at the warlord. She could still see the ghost of his bloated features, his jaws opened unnaturally wide in its wanting.

“Our future, my lord,” she breathed in awe.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast 

[sea-and-storm]

HEARTBREAK;

This is a real heavy drabble. REAL heavy, to the point that I hesitated in writing it. But it ultimately has plot relevance so here it is. Please take care of yourself and don't read it if you aren't in a good spot mentally to take some serious heavy feels!

[TRIGGER WARNINGS] Rape mention, domestic abuse mention, abortion, and just generally not at all a happy drabble. Take care in reading if you proceed!

(P.S. went back and cleaned up my writing a bit with an edit. :v)

-------

A couple weeks had passed now since Ghoa had slept in her own bed. Ever since the night of the celebration of the Kharlu warparty's return, she'd been able to find no sense of safety except when hidden away in Togene's tent. Even though the other was just another wife to Bayanbataar like herself, the older woman was the closest to a mothering figure that Ghoa would ever get within the Kharlu camp. And she was the only one that the young Mankhad trusted enough to share in what haunted her.

Of course, her odd behavior had begotten questions, most notably from their husband. Bayanbataar had demanded to know why his newest wife was acting so strangely, scarcely leaving Togene's quarters. The fourth wife had assuaged his temper and offense by reassuring him that Ghoa had fallen ill. With her having always been a loyal and loving wife, he hadn't suspected any deception from Togene. So, if not reluctantly, he had allowed her peace and rest 'til the Haragin saw fit.

Even so, Ghoa had known that that reprieve had a time limit. Togene had reminded her of that as well, in her own kind and gentle way. She couldn't stay hidden away forever. Eventually, Bayanbataar would grow impatient -- or worse, suspicious -- and demand her return to routine. She knew that whether she was ready or not, she would have to face her husband again sooner rather than later. Worse yet, she would have to face Tugan again and pretend that nothing had happened, and that was a thought that made her blood run colder than the winter seas.

But even though she knew that returning to her life was as inevitable as it was imminent, that hadn't made the thought cause her body to stop seizing up with fear. It hadn't made the nightmares come any less often, nor cause her to wake up in a cold sweat on any fewer occasions. How was she supposed to return to normal when it felt as if she would never know the feeling of normalcy again? Time was supposed to heal wounds, it seemed that the only thing time had allowed her was to fall deeper into the clutches of despair and fear. Especially now, after this latest and most cruel twist in her time spent amongst the Kharlu.

Togene had been the one to realize it first, naturally. When she had begun to put together a fish stew -- which she knew to be the coast-dwelling woman's favorite meal -- she'd watched as the smell that usually roused her spirits at least for a time caused her stomach to churn. As she'd held back the younger woman's hair, she'd asked her warily when last she bled. Only then had Ghoa realized that in the span of all that had happened, she hadn't realized that it should have since came and went. And that connection had her heaving all over again.

What a sick joke the gods had decided to play on her. When the initial shock of realization had worn off, she had jumped rapidly between fury and betrayal, to sadness and worry, to fear and panic, and right back to anger until she had completely tired herself out.

Togene herself had seemed conflicted as well. She had always told Ghoa that once she became a mother, her life among the Kharlu would become easier and she would finally find contentment with her lot. She hadn't quite meant it like this, Ghoa knew, and she could see that she was grappling with her own emotions. And there was something else besides in her eye. Some manner of concern seemingly not for the younger woman herself, that had her worriedly looking to her own young son cradled against her chest as she held him closer.

When she had woken from her rest, Ghoa's mood had calmed to a dull, numb aching. She awoke knowing that something had to be done. There was no scenario in which she could bring this child into the world. Either it was the offspring of the man who had stolen her from her home and made her his slave-wife, or it was that of the man who had taken her for himself out of envy of the first. Whichever case it was made little difference to her.

The hardest part would be making sure that didn't come to pass, or so she had thought. She would have to have Togene's assistance and she had thought the woman would be hesitant or resistant to her plea for help. It had surprised her when she had asked for the other's help in discreetly bringing to her what herbs and reagents she needed that the woman agreed right away. Was she truly that sympathetic? Or was she simply trying to protect her own family from the inevitable conflict that would arise if word spread that Tugan had done what Bayanbataar could not, whether or not that was true? Either way, she didn't question it for fear of causing the other woman to doubt her choice.

Over the next few days, Togene had quietly gathered what herbs and plants Ghoa had sent her after. She supposed that she had Unegen to silently thank too for her tutelage in herbalism, remembering her strict lessons on exactly which concoctions not to give to expecting mothers. And once all components of the draught were within her hands, it had taken her but a few bells to put it all together into a thoroughly unappetizing but drinkable solution.

But now as she sat there with it ready in her hands, it was not half so easy to lift to her lips as she had thought. Her hands trembled, her eyes stared into the glassy surface of the dark yellow-green liquid inside the earthenware cup she held. Her eyes suddenly blinked rapidly, tears welling up unexpectedly and rolling over her cheeks.

Seeing the emotion swelling, Togene leaned in close, her hands coming to rest over Ghoa's own around the cup to steady them. Her head craned downwards to catch her gaze, and to hold it once she had.

"Oh, sweet girl," she cooed softly. "Would that I could take this pain away from you.. It hurts me to see you hurting." One hand moved from the cup to her cheek, brushing away a tear with her thumb. "You are sure about this, yes?"

Ghoa hesitated at that question. She had been certain of it before that she hadn't really stopped to think about it. Now that the moment had arrived, all those doubts she hadn't considered before had pounced like hungry gedan upon a straggling sheep. Now she had to truly ask herself:  was she really sure?

Togene's advice from moons ago still rang clear in her head. If she was with child, Bayanbataar's hand would still against her. Perhaps even the deep resentment he felt towards his apparently barren, and to him useless wife might disappear or at least fade. She might be able to finally tolerate a life among the Kharlu with his rage calmed and with something -- a child -- to focus her attention on other than her own plight.

But.. could it really be that simple? No, she knew herself better than that. Even if her husband's abuses stopped, she would still have to find means to live with the deep fear Tugan instilled within her. Worse, if the child was his and such came to light, she wasn't sure that her husband would be so willing to believe that a hurt had been committed against her. As tense as their relation was, she couldn't see it as impossible that Bayanbataar might kill her for suspicion of transgression against their marriage -- no, his ownership of her.

Most convincingly all, however, was knowing that no matter the father nor the circumstance, she would never be able to be a good mother to this child. She had been raised having never expected to raise a family, given that the udgan of her people weren't afforded such luxury. Without that expectation, she had grown into a woman out of touch with any sort of mothering instinct. That, combined with the fact that in either case, this child was one borne of violence against her by men she reviled..

All children deserved love, and she knew she would never be able to give it. And it pained her deeply to think she would resign a child to the same loveless raising as she had had herself.

"...yes," she answered, voice quiet and strained but certain. "I'm sure."

"Then you needn't torture yourself, Ghoa," Togene cooed soothingly. "If you are sure, then drink." She leaned in and pressed a kiss her forehead. "I'm right here. I won't leave your side, dear."

The tears began to flow heavier and quicker at that, but all the same, Ghoa finally brought the stoneware to her lips and tipped it back. It was bitter against her tongue, and between it and emotion, it threatened to rise from her stomach again. But she swallowed, and she kept it down, and she collapsed into sobs within the comfort of Togene's embrace and the slow stroking of her hair.

The other had told her but a few weeks ago when this had happened of Sechen, the escaped wife returned. That horrific tale had terrified her out of the thought of running. But now, she knew she had to escape anyway. She didn't know how or when, but she had to escape eventually.

No matter how strong she tried to be, Ghoa couldn't withstand this sort of heartbreak a second time.

[afreesworn]

👎 = Is there anyone in your muse’s family they dislike, why?

Dislike is a strong word. At least for Nabi.

But due to recent events, she is afraid of Arasen, while still feeling somewhat sorry for him. She has gained some glimpses of what his Sight grants him, and it isn’t a “Gift” in any sense of the word. It is a heavy burden, and she now knows what her mother had to bear since Chanai too had the same ability. But even when Nabi tried to reach out to her cousin in sympathy, he lashed out back at her with cruelty, causing her both pain and distress. 

But it is what he has done to those she loves that disturbs her the most, for she now suspects that he orchestrated the events in the ruins, where everyone she cared about suffered so much. While she can try to understand and maybe even forgive what he has done to her because he is relentless in his dream to pursue peace, it is not that easy to overlook what he has done to Anchor, Shael, and Ghoa.

Nabi once feared her uncle as well, Tugan Kharlu, who is Arasen’s father. But the elder has been an absent and distant figure in her life, where as his son has forced his way into hers, and has brought much trouble with him.

Art by: Ruen!

Family Headcanon Questions!

[afreesworn]

✨ = How important is family to your muse?

To Nabi, family is not just blood kin. Else she would not have many at all that she knows. She was loved by her mother, Chanai, but after her passing, she still had two adoptive family members, a Hingan couple who she calls Aunt Mimiyo and Uncle Yoshinari. 

But now there are others, Ghoa and Shael who are like sisters to her, and Anchor who resides at the center of her heart. They are the most important people in Nabi’s life and she would readily risk her life for them. 

She doesn’t consider the rest of the Kharlu as close, her mother’s brother, Tugan, still frightens Nabi, and she is currently distrustful of her cousin, Arasen.

[sentryandco]

House of Lies

“I need more time.”

Arasen was trying his best to keep all contempt from his voice. He had practice with it over the years, but each time he had to “negotiate” with Kiratai, it had always ended in an extreme test of patience. Toragana was shrewd enough to bear witness to all the meetings between them, for Arasen dared not try something in her presence. While she was not as old or skilled as Siban, Toragana still had years of practice over Arasen.

Not that such a thing would grant any further clarity over the Sight.

If anything, it only entrenched the older udgans deeper into their traditions, making them rigid and single-minded. It was the elder voices amongst the shamans that continued this blood war between the two tribes. But Toragana, much like Siban, was different. They saw possibilities outside of the single path that was laid out before them.

Arasen should be thankful he supposed, for if it wasn’t her counsel to an influential warlord like Kiratai, he would never had an ally within the Jhungid. And despite what web of influence he himself had fostered over the years, all that had been accomplished so far would not have been possible without further aid from someone outside of the Kharlu. Even as patient and careful as he was, Arasen knew that he needed accomplices that would not fall under the auspice of his father or Bayanbataar.

But despite this alliance that defied the age old beliefs of their people, here Arasen was, again pleading his case. His frustration simmered behind his placid mask, his voice still never rising above a calm and reassuring tone.

“It is nearly done. She will return with me, any sun now, willingly.” Arasen’s amber eyes flitted between Kiratai and his udgan, then to the five other Jhungid around them. One stood next to the warlord, while two stood guard at either side of the cave they were in. They might still be in the isle of Shirogane, but Arasen had no doubt that these warriors would be able to dispatch of him quickly and silently should they deem him a threat, without a single Sekiseigumi being the wiser. Every time he was surrounded by the Jhungid, Arasen couldn’t help but recall the first time he had been lured out into that ruin. He'd nearly died. Those fears had long been dismissed, but the memory never quite left him, lingering in the furthest recesses of his mind.

“It has been moons already, son of Tugan.” Toragana narrowed her eyes on him, and the light silver limbal rings seemed to burn a bit brighter against her black irises. While his lighter eyes were set within the black tribal markings, her face was the opposite. White dots lined her dark brow, set like stars in the night against her near black complexion. It was almost an eerie sight, and Arasen couldn’t help but appreciate the intimidating appearance of it. Even if she called him by his father’s son, purposefully trying to dig under his skin.

Kiratai flicked a glance in the udgan’s direction, and Arasen knew that it was Toragana who needed convincing, not Kiratai. But he was astute enough to show deference first to the warlord, then to his udgan with a low nod.

“The lost daughter needs to come of her own accord, I’ve told you this,” Arasen reminded them patiently, yet again. “She needs to give herself willingly for the mark to be fully realized. And only then--”

“So were Siban’s words,” Toragana cut him off sharply. “That was her vision. But you and I know that the power is in the blood. The mark is only a tether. We can harness the power ourselves.”

“You saw what happened when we tried to recreate the mark using only blood. It was utter failure!” How could they be so blind? Arasen clenched his teeth to keep his temper at bay. It was greed for power that always made them arrogant. This was why they had always failed in generations past. None had the foresight. Or the patience.

“That was because none of them was gifted with the mark. She is the bearer.” The udgan sounded so sure, so confident.

“And what if we fail again? We can’t just feed her to the worm and start all over. This is our only chance we will have in our lifetime!” Arasen felt his mark starting to falter. All the females that have died so far, they were all Kharlu. The Jhungid had yet to bring an offering to the altar. They knew nothing of sacrifice. The warrior next to Kiratai brought his hand over his sword as if in warning, a sight that Arasen had become so accustomed to over the years. They have never trusted him, nor he them.

Toragana was about to retort, but Kiratai stepped forward, silencing the udgan. “You had enough time. Let her breathe the air of her homeland to be fully convinced, and be reminded of her path.” There was no changing the warlord’s mind, this Arasen saw in the Jhungid’s green eyes. “We have done it your way long enough. Sacrificed our own men in that attack outside of the Reunion. We could have killed your warden for what he did to my men. We let him recover here at your request.”

Kiratai stepped within ilms away from Arasen, his hissed words washing over the Kharlu’s face. “You’ve played your games long enough. Don’t think we don’t know about the escaped wife. I can pluck any of your pieces off, whenever I choose.”

Arasen bared his teeth. “I’ve already told you the use she will have. If you want to topple the powers within the Kharlu, she is essential.”

Kiratai held up a hand, silencing him with but a gesture. Arasen knew better than to contest his authority. How much this warlord reminded him of his own father… it brought a hint of bile to the back of his throat. He just had to remind himself yet again that the male was useful. A means to an end. For peace.

“We are leaving with the lost daughter. If she isn’t convinced yet, then you will make sure she is by the time we reach the ruins.” The warlord spun away from Arasen, unwilling to accept anything else other than silent obedience. “Send word to your people to make ready the preparations.”

Kiratai nodded to the Jhungid standing behind him, who returned the same and darted off toward one of the ends of the cave. With a single hand gesture, the three raced off into the streets of Shirogane. Toragana lingered a few moments, as her warlord exited the cave in the opposite direction.

“I thought you would have stepped out of Siban’s shadows by now,” the udgan said with a smug narrowing of her eyes.

“And I thought you stopped trying to prove yourself better than her,” Arasen shot back cooly, meeting her gaze with a venom of his own.

“Siban?” Toragana scoffed as she began to make her exit. “The old woman is dying and delirious. I have long passed her skills.”

“No,” Arasen called out after her. “Chanai.”

That stopped Toragana in her tracks but only for an instant. She said nothing as she resumed her pace a tick later, her stride more brisk than before.

But that jab gave Arasen little satisfaction. He had so little choice now, and the Jhungid was about to topple the careful house of lies he had erected. After waiting for what felt like forever, he finally started to make his own exit out of the cave, when another figure appeared to darken the mouth of it. Another Jhungid? Perhaps Kiratai finally decided to dispose of him? Wild thoughts began to swirl in his head. With Toragana’s interference, it was difficult to foresee what they would intend. But when Arasen approached closer, recognition began to settle upon his features, and his amber eyes widened.

“What were you doing here?” Batuhan asked in a voice that rumbled with both disbelief and suspicion. “What were you doing with the Jhungid?”

[sea-and-storm]

BACKSTORY, AU, ETC. DRABBLE MASTERPOST -- - -

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BACKSTORY DRABBLES -- -

BOND - Ibakha's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

NOT A WEAPON - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

ATTRITION (TW) - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe)MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad

CLOSE - Unegen's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Unegen Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Ghoa Mankhad.

CHOOSING, PT 1 - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad.

CHOOSING, PT 2 - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

RUNAWAY (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Yisu Kharlu, Togene Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu, Sechen Kharlu.

HEARTBREAK (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Togene Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu.

PRAYERS - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Cota Kharlu, Togene Kharlu, Yisu Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

OFFERING (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

ARUKH - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

SURVIVAL - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Saran Kahkol, Muunokhoi Kahkol.

THE CRATE (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Kugane) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Saya Mifune.

UNNOTICED (TW) - Ino's Perspective (Kugane) MENTIONS: Ino Ghostwalker, Ghoa Mankhad, Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune.

MISS THE BOAT - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair)MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Dinesh Sutar, Sarasvati Parikh.

CONFLUENCE - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair)MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Sarasvati Parikh, Dinesh Sutar.

TEMPER (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Ino Ghostwalker, Sarasvati Parikh, Naseem Malakar.

CUTTING CORNERS (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair / Eorzea) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Sarasvati Parikh, Unegen Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Hisanobu Mifune, Ino Ghostwalker.

ONEROUS - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

TEPID - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Yesui Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad.

HISTORY - Unegen's (?) Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc.. sort of) MENTIONS: Khenbish of the Final Tempest, Sorocan the Stormkeeper.

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AU & MISC. DRABBLES -- -

ECHO - WOL!Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

FLING - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali

ROW - Ghoa's Perspective (Pre-Corruption Arc) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Shael Stormchild, Anchor Saltborn, Nabi Kharlu.