#anyways buqatai of the mol is a canon character. in-game you can find him at mol illoh near some sheep :-)

[crystal-verse]

FFXIVwrite Day 1 - Steer

(More under the cut for length purposes)

You do not know this kind of creature. It is -- large, and strong, and a skittish prey animal and oh, you are going to die, you are going to fall off and then this horse will trample all over you until your bones are broken and you are dead--

"Don't worry so much." Assures Buqatai, the Mol who had offered to teach you. (Had been told by Fate to teach you, or one of the other gods that spoke to the Mol, some times. So said Temulun Khatun, she who hears the gods' voices clearer. She hears your voice most clearly of all, you being in the flesh to speak, your soul bound to that Tower with its spires reaching into the heavens.)

"Horses can be very dangerous." You point out, not illogically.

"The horse will not hurt you." Buqatai replies, evenly, with a hint of laugh in his voice. "You are far stronger than it."

"This body is not." You stress, sitting in the saddle as if the horse would suddenly toss you off. It might. You don't know. You've never ridden a horse before -- and riding horses is much different from riding chocobos, or other creatures. It's terrifying! The horse is taller than you are!

"It will be easy," Buqatai reassures, "once you have gotten used to the act."

And, thinking logically, Buqatai is right. But you are not thinking logically right now. Raha, you wonder, have you ever suffered something like this? (Probably not. Or -- maybe. He'd made quite a surprised noise when you first had him ride chocoboback with you, those many years ago. How softened the memory is, by time.)

"If you are sure." You say, instead of lingering in your thoughts. "Remind me again what to do?"

The instructions that Buqatai gives are easy, and simple to follow. Were you any more prideful you'd perhaps be embarrassed -- but you are a god in mortal flesh, and you know better than to be embarassed by being unused to things you'd never tried before. Why should you be embarassed for struggling to ride a horse? You've never gotten practice at such a thing. You know this. The Mol know this. There is no judgement, or mockery, only patient, gentle teaching. As it should be. (The Mol are your favorite Xaela tribe, and have been for quite some while. Fate, and the other gods that you once shared the skies with, speak and the Mol listen. They are good people, the Mol. Kind-hearted. Gentle. Willing to wander whither you or your kin would direct them. You do not do such a thing, not anymore -- in a mortal vessel, the act seems different, like something you are not to do. Perhaps that is why you do not steer them with your words, why you smile softly but do not answer their questions with much other than vagueness. You do not want to give things that could be heard as orders.

With you in mortal flesh, it puts you at too much of an advantage to your kin. The Mol are to hear all of their old, still-remembered gods, that share the sky. You are the oldest god, and they remember you much, and you would not want to prevent your kin from saying their pieces. Would not want to smother their authority with your own. If Temulun asks, you will share your thoughts, but only as thoughts. You are a god but you are also mortal, in the present moment, and so 'tis not your place to steer the way the Mol live.)

"May I try, now?" You ask, gently, as you ease yourself out of that musing, and recall the advice that Buqatai had given you. "I can do it, I think. The horse will not hurt me."

"The horse will not hurt you." Buqatai confirms yet another time, a smile on his face this time.

Gently, you urge the horse to move forward. It does. And so, for this brief moment -- you are not a god, nor are you one of the two Warriors of Light, nor are you someone fighting to save Doma from Garlemald's clutches -- no, for this moment you are just K'pheli Tia, a person riding a horse, and who is one of the Mol, taken in alike to a long-lost cousin. It is a nice thing to be.