#khuushuur

[windupnamazu]

i bet you play soccer 'cause you're a keeper!

ffxivwrite2023 #17: tease (free day) make fun of or attempt to provoke in a playful way.

Some pre-relationship Lunya/G'raha and @fistsoflightning's Zaya/Thancred. Random high school AU????????? Don't ask me. 782wc. ⮞ Two sets of teenagers, both alike in teenage cringefaility, On fair soccer field, where we lay our scene,

"Soooooo, Lu," Nyneve drawled, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands as she leaned forward to see Lunya past Majj's giant GO, GO, VARLIN-OH! poster. "Are you really just interested in Zaya's games or are you gonna admit you've been eyeing Raha like he's a prime cut of Hingan wagyu since he hit the field?"

"Hmph," Lunya sniffed with a haughty flip of her hair to hide the slightest flush of red to her cheeks. "I can do both. Multitasking is the key to success, Nyneve."

And boy, could Lunya multitask. Just because Zaya invited her out specifically to watch the coed soccer matches and relay race didn't mean Lunya couldn't enjoy everything else Sports Day had to offer. Especially not if 'everything else' included that cute Miqo'te boy from her history classes with Professor Rurusha. She overheard him infodumping to his friends about Allagan waterways at the beginning of the school year and she was doomed. Doomed.

"Y'know I could just introduce you, right? You don't have to wait for Rurusha to maybe assign you as project partners one day," Nyneve reminded her, only for Athanasia to sock her shoulder on her other side.

"Stop interfering in your friends' love lives," the other Midlander teen scolded. It might have been out of genuine concern or a desperate attempt to keep yet another man out of her best-friend-slash-crush's field of view. Nyneve turned around to whine and with a roll of her eyes, Lunya tuned them out to look for Zaya.

Their sibling was hard to miss even in the sea of blue jerseys scattered across the field; their azure face paint—(their "war paint", they eagerly signed to Lunya that morning on their way to school, which Lunya thought was ridiculous but adorable)—was stark against their skin and dark scales and they were talking to Thancred Waters, whose fanclub was hovering at the edge of the field as close as they could without Coach Hagane yelling at them to back off.

Thancred, who was leaning towards Zaya to—

Lunya reached over and gripped Majj's arm.

"Did he just—" Majj wolf whistled in confirmation, drawing every head on the field to their direction, and then Lunya was on her feet, shouting: "YEAAAAAAH, QESTIR!"

Zaya sprung back from Thancred, eyes wide like she had caught them swiping up the last khuushuur. Both of them had very distinct splotches of red on their faces despite his kiss on their forehead being rather innocent.

"TOUCH HIS BUTT," Zaya's horrible, terrible little sister hollered anyway, shaking the whole set of bleachers as she bounced up and down in some twisted imitation of a hyperactive circus monkey.

Mentally, Zaya debated if it would be faster to run up the bleachers to pick Lunya up and carry her to the river to drop her in it or to simply kill everyone staring at them.

As some of the teachers wandered over to figure out what in Thaliak's name the kids in the stands were yelling about, G'raha Tia came up from behind Zaya and Thancred with a nervous clearing of his throat.

"You guys know her?" the sophomore asked, tilting his head in the direction of Lunya and Majj doing an excited little dance. Lunya's dyed-white hair was practically glowing in the late-spring sun and Thancred decided to remind her later that she needed to touch up her roots.

"Lunya? Yeah," Thancred confirmed. "She's my neighbour; known her since she was, uh, smaller than she is now."

G'raha couldn't quite make eye contact with either of them. "We've never talked before but she's in some of my classes..." Oh, no. Thancred knew what that nervous, yearning edge to G'raha's voice meant. The boy was halfway in love with her already. Between them, Zaya was furiously gesturing. "Um. Sorry, Zaya, but I still don't know most of those signs."

"They more or less said that if you so much as look at their sister like you do your history books they'll turn you into shorlog," Thancred translated.

G'raha gulped but didn't deny any of the looking. "Got it."

It didn't stop him from casting another gaze of the longing kind back at the bleachers, which he only managed to get away with because Coach Hagane called everyone back over and Thancred drew Zaya under his arm before they could swing around and sock their goalie in the jaw, pulling them close and determinedly not looking back at the little party being thrown in the stands. That wasn't a real move anyway, so they were celebrating for nothing, but Thancred made a private note to rub Zaya's impulsiveness off him before something like this could happen again.

[primamchorus]

(Old) Day 07: Pawn

FFXIV Write 2022 || Day Seven || Pawn

Character: Nomin tal Kheeriin

While taking time to visit Ul'dah's Sapphire Avenue Exchange, Nomin is pleasantly surprised by the Xaela merchants that have set up a stall there.

Word Count: 1,389

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

Sapphire Avenue Exchange was everything that Reunion was not, save for the fact that it was a trading hub. Where Nomin had been used to the less crowded venues of Reunion when she lived on the Steppe, the Sapphire Avenue Exchange was rife with all manners of people, merchants, peddlers, security, adventurers, artisans, and foreigners alike. There were a number of people here that were simply trying to make a sale or crack some coin in whatever capacity they could.

Nomin was no different. She had prepared for this, after all. She had many different pouches and bags with her -- either secured to her belt, sequestered away in her satchel, or even lining her pockets. All of them had various goods and products from not just the Steppe, but Yanxia, Nagxia, and even other parts of Eorzea from when she first made port at Vesper Bay and started her journey in the Far West.

There were other goods, of course. Nomin had sometimes made good coin off of the paintings she had made of the vistas seen and captured on her travels across the lands. However, her art needed a more discerning eye that was more taken with the skill that replicated such landmarks and vistas that could perhaps adorn their homes, or be presented as gifts to others that might enjoy them.

“Buuz! Fresh buuz! Made with spices secured from the Azim Steppe, and prepared by Xaela culinarians for authenticity!” were words that rang out clearer than any bell that Nomin had heard. She turned her head in the direction of the man’s voice that called out. Weaving her way through the crowd, Nomin could see the man, his visage towering over most of the miqo’te and hyurs that traversed the road. His horns and scales were black as night -- a child of Nhaama… like her. The colors he wore suggested that he was a member of the Kha -- one of the least surprising, at the very least, given their affinity for seeking non-Xaela peoples to commune with and learn from.

It was the memories of the Steppe and the food there that made Nomin nostalgic when she heard the salesman call out. The smells of the buuz steaming, or the khuushuur frying in animal fat of one kind or another made Nomin’s mouth water when she neared. When she beheld the pop-up stall, she saw all kinds of foods she recognised from home. Banshtai shul, boortsog, aaruul, bin, gambir, byaslag, tsotgii, and tarag were all there.

“It really is… food of the Steppe…” Nomin breathed, a smile finding a way onto her lips. A warmth filled her chest as she raised her hands to it, clutching the fabric over her heart. It just seemed like Xaelic food was so far away that seeing it here in the lands of Eorzea felt surreal in its relieving quality.

It seemed that Nomin’s appearance and attention did not escape the notice of the stall crier. He gazed down at her with a friendly smile.

«Ah, little sister! It is not often we see other Xaela. Come, enjoy our food!» the man said, his words swapping to old auri. The words also seemed to cause Nomin to look up, a scoff of amusement and disbelief escaping her lips. She was just… overwhelmed at how homesick she felt since she had resolved herself to leave the Steppe.

«Is it… is it alright?» Nomin asked, old auri falling from her own lips as naturally as breathing.

«Alright? Of course, little sister! We might not know when you came here to Eorzea, or if you were born here, but please indulge yourself!» the man said, motioning to the stall. «Where are you from, little sister?»

«The Steppe -- but I don’t have a tribe to call my own or that I represent,» Nomin said, browsing the different foods that were on display as well as looking back at the other Xaela that were cooking or frying the other foods. She had to move aside for some people that came by and were interested in Xaelic style cuisine, but she took time to enjoy the sights and smells nonetheless.

«No tribe?» the stall crier brought a hand to his chin in thought. One of the women who was frying up some gambir glanced up, intrigued by the conversation, evidently.

«Mm… don’t get me wrong. I left my first tribe of my own volition. Then I lived among the Sagahl for a time. But… I merely call myself a child of the Steppe at this point. No affiliation with any one tribe, friends with some, enemies with others…» Nomin explained with a small shrug.

«No affiliation… yet you still wear the colors of the Sagahl….» the merchant commented, nodding to the cloak that was draped from Nomin’s shoulders. «What was your first tribe, if you don’t mind my asking?»

«… Tumet. I was a child of the Tumet,» Nomin replied, soon pointing to the stewing dumplings in a steaming pot. «I’d like a bowl of the banshtai shul, and a smaller one of tarag, please. A bag of aaruul as well, please -- uh, two bags, actually, of sweet aaruul and non-sweet if you make variants! But if you don’t, a bag of your aaruul is fine.»

Nomin watched relatively eagerly as the younger man taking care of the banshtai shul got a bowl and filled it with the dumpling soup. To the side, she saw the woman who had been frying the gambir get up and scoop up one side of the aaruul tray and dump it into a bag, and then scoop up a different side of the tray to fill another bag before placing it on the stall counter for Nomin.

«My thanks, sister,» Nomin said, offering a small smile to the woman. She then watched as the bowl of dumpling soup was set on top of the counter as well. «How much is this going to cost me?»

«We’ve been charging about three-hundred gil for a bowl of banshtai shul. A bag of aaruul is about two-hundred-fifty.»

«Five… eight-hundred gil, then…» Nomin calculated aloud, looking at the bags. She nodded to herself, and then dug around in her belongings. «I have the gil to make the purchase, but might I bring something else up for consideration?»

«As long as you don’t try to pawn anything without value onto us, we’ll see what you have,» the woman spoke, drumming her fingers on the stall counter next to the aaruul filled bags.

«Of course. I actually think I might have something of interest for you,» Nomin smiled. She pulled out a small sack and placed it on the countertop. «Caraway seeds, straight from the Steppe. The Sagahl taught me much, and I utilize this every time I go back to resupply. You can check the bag yourself.»

«Caraway?» the woman reached for the sack and pulled the strings apart to open it. It was as Nomin said. The bag was filled with long, brown, rice-shaped seeds that were dried and fragrant.

«A quarter of the bag for your food, then,» the woman said without hesitation. «We can grind and use them for many weeks.»

«I’ll trade you the whole bag if I can have at least one meal of my choice each time I come back for a moon’s worth of time,» Nomin offered. «Comfort food from home… it’ll be nice having it without having to travel all the way back to Othard through the aethernet or having to secure passage via ship.»

«Deal.»

Nomin’s smile grew, happy to at least be free of one weight from her belongings -- and it was not as if she got to cook anything using the caraway seeds all that often anyroad. Taking up the bags of aaruul, she placed them into her satchel before taking up the bowl and a spoon from one of the bins on the stall counter. She lingered as she ate, intending to return the dishes… though also to merely speak with others from the Steppe and share travel stories and other such ventures.

After all… Nomin loved hearing of it all. She lived vicariously through the experiences of others at times.

[mychalicetheworld-more]

WIP(Chalice Food)

Food and the culture of food in fantasy worlds is a very neglected part of worldbuilding. Since starting Chalice as a worldbuilding project, I’ve taken food as way to give more personality and life to the cultures of these fantastic lands.

Some Quick Notes

Fesmargo feels like a very bisque and decedent culinary center.

Medy isn’t overly original or inspired on its own, a lot of its ‘dishes’ descended from Yusador who assimilated culture after culture

Xarlgos is tough, but they lean towards an efficient and bloody meal

Black Bellia is variety and sea/water heavy

Anterro is without fail a bread and meat crazy place. Where pie comes to evolve

Tantimar has a climate unlike the rest of Chalice, and it shows in their dishes. Also have a spread of deserts and grasslands

Locheckle is forest heavy and has a taiga as a neighbor. Milk based alcohol for sure

Baslen live underground and have spider meat so yeah...

Food

Breads

Biscuit (Medy)

Black Bread

Bark Bread 

Barley Bread

Lichen Bread (Medy) 

Honey Bread(Anterro)

Acorn bread(All of Chalice, originated Locheckle)

Puff Pastry(Fesmargo)

Sesame Flatbread(Xarlgos)

Potato Bread(Baslen)

Rice Bread

Meats

Goat Cutlets(Xarlgos)

Smoked Herring

Jellied Eels (Black Bellia)

Medy Smoked Ham

Medy Sausage 

Roast Goose (Locheckle)

Roast Cockatrice (Fesmargo)

Ground Spider(Baslen)

Oyster

Cheese

Cow Cheese

Oscypek Cheese/Anterro Cheese

Sheep Cheese

Goat cheese

Spider Cheese(Xarlgos & Baslen)

Blue Cheese(Fesmargo)

Sauces

Plum Mousse(Fesmargo)

Almond Sauce(Tantimar)

Spicy Almond Sauce(Tantimar)

Herring Gravy(Anterro)

Plum Sauce(Anterro)

Gravy(Xarlgos)

Yogurt(Locheckle)

Applesauce

Mushroom gravy(Baslen)

Honey(Anterro)

Pepper Gravy(Anterro)

Dishes

Boiled Meat and Innards with Lichen Bread(Baslen, for peasants usually)

Meat Pie(Anterro)

Bellia Egg(Poached egg with herb/spiced yogurt)

Curry(Originated from Black Bellia)

Medy Dumpling(Pierogi)

Xarlgos Dumpling(Mongolian style/khuushuur)

Peasant Surprise Stew(Filled with the most available veggies and protein, Medy)

Seafood Bisque(Fesmargo)

Wine cooked venison with boiled vegetables(Anterro) 

Fried eel(Black Bellia)

Corn Crab Soup(Black Bellia)

Deviled Goose Egg(Locheckle)

Potato Pancakes(Baslen)

Xarlgos Remedy(A porridge filled with pork(bacon or sausage) or venison and fruits, a chicken egg served on the side and drank down with a cider)

Baslen Porridge(always uses ground spider or spider meat and alcohol infused meats)

Venison Porridge(Xarlgos)

Rabbit Stew

Fang Steak Tartar(Tantimar)

Fried Scorpion(Tantimar)

Turtle Soup(Fesmargo)

Black Pudding(Medy)

Fish Chowder(Black Bellia)

Turnip & Barley Stew(Medy)

[wise-journey]

Unveiling the Wonders of Bulgan

Welcome, fellow adventurers, to the enchanting city of Bulgan, nestled amidst the rugged landscapes of Mongolia! Prepare to embark on a journey into a place brimming with rich culture, mouthwatering gastronomy, and exhilarating activities. This remarkable city offers an unforgettable experience.

Culture

Immerse yourself in the unique and vibrant culture of Bulgan. Visit the local nomadic families, experience their age-old customs and traditions. Witness the warm hospitality and rich cultural heritage that has been passed down through generations.

Gastronomy

Begin your culinary adventure by sampling Bulgan's traditional dish, "khuushuur" - crispy fried dumplings filled with meat. Learn the art of preparing traditional Mongolian delicacies by joining the local families in their cooking process.

Activities

Whether it's exploring the local museums, hiking in the Khangai Mountains, or horseback riding across the vast steppes, Bulgan offers a myriad of activities for every adventure enthusiast.

Naadam Festival

If you're fortunate enough to visit during July, don't miss the vibrant Naadam Festival, a celebration of Mongolia's "Three Manly Games" - wrestling, horse racing, and archery. The festival showcases the cultural pride and traditional sports of the Mongolian people.

Sights and Tours

Amarbayasgalant Monastery: One of Mongolia's most revered Buddhist monasteries. Marvel at its intricate architecture and soak in the serene ambiance of this spiritual sanctuary. Khovsgol Nuur: Also known as the "Blue Pearl of Mongolia," this pristine lake offers activities such as boating, fishing, and hiking amidst lush forests and snow-capped mountains.

Nightlife

Experience Bulgan's intimate nightlife scene. Enjoy an evening sipping traditional Mongolian beverages while engaging in warm conversations with friendly locals and fellow travelers.

Transport

Explore Bulgan at your own pace. You can rent a car, hire a driver, or utilize the local bus services to get around and experience the city and its surroundings.

Shopping

Shop at local markets for unique treasures and handmade crafts. From traditional Mongolian clothing to intricately carved wooden items, you'll find great souvenirs to take back home.

Conclusion

As we bid farewell to the captivating city of Bulgan, we hope that this adventure has inspired you to embark on your own journey of discovery. From its rich culture, delicious cuisine, to the thrilling activities, Bulgan promises a unique and unforgettable experience. Safe travels, fellow explorers! Read the full article

[rmspack]

multi-purpose dumpling machine for all kinds of stuffed foods. As an upgraded version of the HM-737, the HM-777 dumpling machine can produce larger products such as Maultaschen, Kreplach, Egg Roll, Khuushuur, gyoza, potsticker, Samosa, Gujia and more. For special designs, we also provide customized molds to suit the needs. The HM-777 dumpling machine can also make xiao long bao, soup dumplings and meat pies with EU-70L packaging.

[ddienw]

English: "It's racist and lazy to call so many foods with specific names in other languages by just the name 'dumpling' and a descriptor"

Vietnamese: *sweating nervously and shoving the word bánh under the stove*

[jennysandiford]

Khuushuur for sure. Mongolias answer to the meat pie. • Its minced meat wrapped in pastry and deep fried. • I ate way too much khuushuur last year living out at the mine, and haven't eaten any since then. • But had to have some to celebrate Nadaam. It was actually pretty good. • I also had a Nadaam Khuushuur the same week. That's enough for the year I think! • #travel #foodstagram #khuushuur #mongolianfood #travelblog #travelasia #foodtravel #traveltheworld #travelmongolia #mongoliatravel (at Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CC-in3IHIUK/?igshid=1jo65rl79k9qo

[emujin]

the only original mongolian food is boiled meat and vegetables 😭 we stole all our good food from russia or china

[ryehouses]

random question: did you base mandalorian hanshun on mongolian khuushuur? cause that's exactly how i pictured it (but way spicier)

howdy!! i based hanshun off of hāngī, a traditional form of Māori cooking, (big, community meals seem very apt for mandalorians), but added the "shun" (bread) part because of the convenience factor -- mandalorians are always on the move, so food that's easy to eat while running around also seemed pretty apt! (also, Meat In Some Sort of Dough Wrapping is like, a near-universal human experience, and i love it so much.)

thank you for bringing the existence of khuushuur to my attention, though!! i'll have to try and find some -- some cursory research has not turned up any mongolian places nearby, but khuushuur looks DELICIOUS.

[tae-ffxiv]

Prompt #10: Heady

He didn’t like to think about his past, his previous life. Because the memories drew him in like moth to flame, a magnetic pull he was nigh helpless to resist. That pull left a pain in his chest that hurt somehow more than where the arrow had went in. A pull that tried to steal his heart straight from his chest.

Go to it, it whispered. Go home.

But who was he back home but a ghost, someone whose death was long since passed, grieved, forgotten. Best he remain dead. He couldn’t go home if he tried.

He didn’t like to think of it, because he couldn’t go back, and he wanted to. Wanted to so much that the longing hollowed a hole in his heart.

This new life was heavy enough without it.

And yet…

A gentle laugh and the low, soft sound of a voice that only ever sang for him.

The scent of fresh-cooked khuushuur, or of smoke permeating skin.

The whisper of fingers tracing along his hairline while he lay in bed, almost sleeping. A warm hand dropping onto his own so casually, so naturally.

Harsh silver eyes that were nothing but warm for him, the steady composure of his face and of his stature.

The taste of apricots on his lips when he kissed him, of fruit on his tongue…

Go home.

Go back.

He can’t. He doesn’t belong there.

What about him?

He’s had his grief. His paradigm shift. What would it do for him if Dayir were to simply walk back into his life?

It could help him.

It could hurt him.

And besides, he doesn’t belong there.

Go home.

He doesn’t deserve there.

And yet…

The feeling of fingers entwined in his own. The low, steady cadence of his voice. Or the long companionable silence, lying in the grass, looking at the stars, the press of another shoulder against his own somehow meaning more to him than some mere kiss could ever come close to.

The memories tug at his chest, pull him in like a spell. When he can’t stop himself thinking about it, he instead succumbs to it. Lets himself fall into the memories, sweet as honey.

The ever-so-slight way his eyes narrowed when he was amused. That damned smile, turned away and hidden as though it was something to be ashamed of. A secret never to be revealed. But unhidden for him.

The warmth of an arm draped across his waist as he sleeps. The sound restful breath beside him in the night.

Comforting, and warm, and bright.

A feeling he hasn’t had since he woke.

A feeling he will likely never have again.

But some days, it was hard – so hard – to resist that call that pulled at his chest, the incessant tug that seemed to say

Go home

…

Go home

…

Go home…

[niraff14]

Xaela Elements in Real Life

Some bits on a couple of different Mongolian things since the Xaela were rather inspired by Nomadic Mongolian Culture. Had looked into a bit of the Mongolian Creation Myths out of curiosity to see if they inspired Azim and Nhaama at all, but they don’t seem to of at least at first glance, I did not look into it heavily at all. Though some of the Myths are based on Buddhism.

The Naadam

(Held during Midsummer, modernly has the ‘three games of men’ being Mongolian Wrestling, Horse Racing, and Archery)

The real Naadam doesn’t look like it was ever as violent as the Xaela version of a brawl. Though the Xaela version does include the three games in a way, you have the race to the center to seize the Ovoo(Horse Racing), While fighting other Xaela on the way(Mongolian Wrestling, Archery). And it does begin with a revered Ceremony as the Gharl Tribe spreads the dirt upon sunrise to mark the Ovoo.(Ovoo are Sacred Stone heaps used as Altars or shrines in Mongolian folk religious practice.)

Naadam is the most widely watched festival among Mongols and is believed to have existed for centuries in one fashion or another. It has its origin in the activities, such as military parades and sporting competitions such as archery, horse riding and wrestling, that followed the celebration of various occasions, including weddings or spiritual gatherings. It later served as a way to train soldiers for battle and was also connected to Mongols' nomadic lifestyle. Mongolians practice their unwritten holiday rules that include a long song to start the holiday, then a Biyelgee dance. Traditional cuisine, or Khuushuur, is served around the Sports Stadium along with a special drink made of horse milk (airag). The three games of wrestling, horse racing, and archery are recorded in the 13th-century book The Secret History of the Mongols. During the Qing dynasty's rule, Naadam became a festival officially held by sums.

Morin Khuur

This instrument is seen in various settlements in the Steppe(Ingame), and is also known as a Horse Fiddle.

(Sambuugiin Pürevjav of Altai Khairkhan performing in Paris in 2005)

Buuz

And of course everyone remembers the Buuz lady in Reunion, she has the freshest Buuz you’ve ever tasted! This is ofcourse a type of Mongolian Steamed Dumpling that is filled with meat. The filling is similar to another Mongolian Dumpling, Khuushuur, however Khuushuur is fried. Main ingredients are Dough, Mutton, or beef

Yurt(Ger in Mongolian)

Tents that are favored by those living on the steppe in Mongolia. They are fairly light and fast to assemble and apparently rather wind resistant. The background of this image also reminds me of the Azim Steppe in the game.

[peashooter85]

Khan’s Kitchen --- Mongolian Khuushuur

from ARTGER

[wise-journey]

Discover Mongolia: An Intimate Journey Through the Enthralling City of Altai

Mongolia, the land of blue skies, is a majestic realm filled with uncharted frontiers, untamed landscapes, and the treasures of rich culture and history. Among its many hidden jewels, the city of Altai gleams with a charm that's unique, rare, and captivating. Let’s dive deep into the world of Altai city tourism and discover the marvels it holds.

A Glimpse of Altai City: Where Culture Meets Adventure

Tranquilly perched amidst the expansive Mongolian steppes, Altai city serves as a portal to a world that’s far removed from the ordinary. This indigenous city blends the vibrancy of culture, the intrigue of history, and the allure of nature in a single tapestry, offering a wealth of experiences that range from tranquil to thrilling.

Embarking on Adventure: Things to do in Altai City, Mongolia

In Altai, each day unfurls a new adventure. Start your day with a breathtaking view of snow-capped mountains from your hotel room. Go horseback riding through the beautiful landscapes or trailblaze your way to thundering waterfalls. Maybe even set up camp under a captivating starlit sky. The abundant outdoor activities in Altai, Mongolia, are sure to satiate your wanderlust. Experience the Thrill of Altai Adventure Sports Altai city is a haven for adventure sports. From trekking through beautiful terrains, camping under the clear skies, paragliding over the stunning landscapes to horse riding through its vast plains - the city offers plenty of ways to feel the rush of adrenaline. Altai is a must-visit for every adventure enthusiast out there.

Time Travel in Altai: Dive into the Colorful History and Culture

Altai is a living testament to Mongolia’s rich history that stretches back over millennia. The city's vibrant markets whisper tales of its glory days as a part of the Silk Road. Its local museums are treasure troves of artifacts, offering glimpses into an era when Altai was a cultural and trading hub.

Food for the Soul: Taste the Authentic Cuisine of Altai City, Mongolia

Every corner of Altai city is filled with the delightful aroma of local cuisine that's unique, traditional, and mouthwatering. Try the local favorite Khuushuur - a delicious meat-filled pastry, or sample the hearty Guriltai Shul - a delectable noodle soup - at one of the many local restaurants. The gastronomic journey is an integral part of the Altai city Mongolia experience.

Key Takeaways for the Enthusiastic Traveler

Altai city, Mongolia offers a myriad of experiences that cater to all kinds of travelers. Whether you are a history enthusiast, a culture vulture, or an adventure junkie, Altai promises to be a thrilling chapter in your travelogue. Here are a few key points to remember: - Best time to visit: The weather in Altai city, Mongolia is best for outdoor activities between May and September. - Shopping: The vibrant markets of Altai city are a shopper's paradise, offering locally made artifacts and souvenirs. - Festivals: Altai city, Mongolia festivals are a riot of colors, music, and dance that showcase the rich cultural heritage. Make sure to check the dates and plan your visit accordingly. - Travel Guide: For detailed information like 'Altai city Mongolia map', 'Hotels in Altai City Mongolia', 'Altai City Mongolia Flights', and 'Altai city Mongolia travel packages', refer to trusted travel guides or contact local travel agencies. So, when are you packing your bags for the mesmerizing city of Altai, Mongolia? Note: This article is based on the author's personal exploration and experiences. For more specific information, kindly refer to reliable travel sources or contact travel agencies. Read the full article

[magicianapprenticelyra]

To Pay Our Last Respects; Chapter II [IRIS, SHILOH]

[CHAPTER I]

WARNING: Contains massive spoilers from the latter parts of The Arcana: A Mystic Romance.

[With mentions of: @vesuvianoak‘s fan apprentice Ąžuolas and fan kids, Esther, Hazel, and Noah, the lattermost being to whom Iris is married to.]

IRIS

It’s been a while, but I know I’m in the spirit world. It feels real, but the way I walk is a mite slower. When I move, my whole body feels a bit weightless, and so heavy at the same time.

Once I am out of the woods, I finally get my bearings. In the distance is the hut Grandma Khamgalai and Herm have been staying in. It’s never changed, as far as I know.

There’s smoke coming out of the chimney, so I know either Herm or Grandma are in there.

As I continue to make my way there, I look down at where I step. I don’t want to accidentally step or disturb some of the neighbors.

The closer I get though, I start to get a funny feeling. When I’m within reach of the door, I slow my steps, listening.

Inside the hut, I can hear Grandma talking. At first I think it’s to Herm, but then I realize he’s moving around in the hut, cooking something. Grandma would usually be padding around nearby as he did . . . so why wasn’t—?

I hear the Major Arcana’s feet coming my way in the nick of time. I jump out of the way as the door swings open.

“Oh!” Hermit blinks, seeing me on the other side. His starry green eyes are apologetic. “Hello Iris.”

“Hi Herm,” I reply, stepping back to let him come out. As he shuts the door behind him, I ask, “Is there someone else in there with Grandma?”

“Mm,” Hermit nods, sparing a glance behind him before walking on. I follow.

“Wood pile?”

“Mm.”

“Want me to carry or do you want me to chop?”

“Both, if you are able.”

“Of course I’m able!”

We find the wood pile a ways away from the hut. It is really low, which is surprising.

“How’d this happen?” I ask, grabbing an axe nearby.

“The guest in the hut happened,” he replies.

I blink. “Human or demon?”

“Human, like you.”

I pause, setting the axe down again. “I beg your pardon?”

To be honest, I’m not that special: I know there are people that can find their way to The Hermit’s realm, but there are a lot of hoops to jump through in order to even get to this place.

“He’s struggling with a loss, like you,” Herm explains further. I grimace, picking up my axe and getting to work on getting wood for the pile.

It'll be a bit, because I'm unwilling to let Grandma go without while I'm here.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

After The Hermit and I get the wood pile about 2/3rds the way there, we hear Grandma's voice in the distance: she's calling us to come in for lunch.

I trundle after Hermit, feeling sore. Aunc Asra has told me that if I got hurt here, it's not real. I didn't take my body with me this trip at least, but it's hard not to feel a bit beat up.

Like the gentleman he is, Herm opens the door for me. I see Grandma getting the table ready . . . with our guest.

I pause after closing the door behind me. The person is not that tall. They couldn't be much shorter than Aunc Asra, to be honest.

They got a shock of auburn hair, and a face that strikes me as familiar.

"Iris!" Khamgalai greets, walking over to give me a hug. I gotta bend down really low in order to let her hug me fully. “How are you holding up, sweetie?”

“Uh, could be better,” I reply, giving her a small smile. Grandma ushers me to the table, having me on one side of her, and the stranger on the other.

"Iris, this is Shiloh," she points to the newcomer, flashing a smile. "Shiloh, this is my granddaughter, Iris."

"Hi," they greet, glancing at me before looking away sheepishly.

"Hey yourself," I reply, giving them a little wave. After Grandma lightly nudges them, Shiloh returns the little wave.

Soon, Hermit sits across from her, passing bowls of bantan and cups of tea around. When he also sets down a platter of khuushuur, I grin.

“Thank you for this,” I dip my head to the Arcana.

“It’s no trouble,” Hermit rumbles.

“. . . there’s no pork in this, right?” Shiloh asks, looking at the soup suspiciously.

“No there isn’t,” Grandma replies, patting their shoulder. “Dig in! I knew even before you got in here that you look like you’ve hardly eaten.”

Shiloh blushes vividly, already scooping the thick soup into their mouth.

As we’re all eating, I spare a few glances over to this person. Their clothes make me think of someone with refined but flashy taste, if the long sleeves and gold-colored accents were anything to go by. The material isn’t velvet, but it’s sitting heavily over their body.

What I’m really shocked about though, is their magic. Even if it’s pretty subdued, I can feel the cracklings of . . . something. Given the fact that Khamgalai made bantan, they’re probably a few hours into getting over a hangover too.

After the stranger finishes their soup, Grandma moves the platter of khuushuur over to them.

“This looks like chiburekki,” Shiloh remarks, looking at the offered food.

"Chiburekki?" I echo. Why is that familiar?

"Mhm. A fried dumpling thing." Shiloh picks up one with a wooden fork. They pop it into their mouth, and chew. The khuushuur settles into one of their cheeks as they eat, taking a few moments to savor and chew.

“What’re you in for?” I ask them, chuckling when they’re startled by me addressing them.

After stopping themself from choking, Shiloh swallows, replying with, “I dunno."

I raise an eyebrow and look at Herm. When he shrugs, I look at Grandma.

“Were they the one that got all your wood?”

“Not intentionally,” Khamgalai replies plainly. Shiloh shrinks in their chair, red to their ears as she continues with, “From what I understand, it’s something like this: when he landed in the Hermit’s realm, he got knocked into the wood pile. He smacked into it so hard it scattered to the four winds!”

“How were you drunk before even getting here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Had a night out with your friends?”

Shiloh shifts under my scrutiny, lips pressed tightly together.

“I’m pretty patient, kid,” I forewarn, “I can wait a pretty long while.”

Hermit gets up and leaves us alone. I don’t blame him: these are really weird circumstances. In the meantime, Grandma and Shiloh end up doing dishes together while I tidy up the living area. The two of them exchange a few words here and there. Given Shiloh is stage whispering, I can’t hear much.

After a bit more poking from Grandma, Shiloh finally caves.

“It’s . . . complicated,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He dries his hands and stumbles back over. He seats himself on a low stool.

Slowly, Shiloh leans down, stretching. As he touches the tips of his shoes, Shiloh strategically pops his back. I sit down on a low stool too, settled beside my grandma as Shiloh begins.

He talks about after he went to sleep last night, he woke up in the Arcana realms. When I ask how he knew, Shiloh responds with, “Lamps don’t just grow out of nowhere,” he laughs wryly. “It’s . . . it’s a little fuzzy but I was drinking with this demon I ran into . . .”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

SHILOH

Hours ago, The Hanged Raven . . .

“ . . . do you get visitors often?” I murmur, nursing my pint of ale in my hands.

“Mm . . . yes and, uh, no,” he replies.

I mm in understanding, trying not to stare. It’s really, really dark in here, but I can make out the outlines of his silhouette. The demon before me . . . he’s humanoid, but massive. From head to taloned feet, he’s covered in black feathers. There's some swathes of dreadfully pale skin—almost grey!—in between rows and rows of said feathers. Thanks to him handing me this pint what I think ale, I can tell he’s got claws at the ends of his massive hands too.

“So, uh . . .” I look to the ceiling, noting the cobwebs. “Have you been out much?”

“Only to hunt,” he replies. He gestures to some bones in the corner of the room. The sight makes my skin crawl.

There were still some chunks of meat on the osseous matter.

“It disgusts you, doesn’t it?” the demon looks into his massive tankard wistfully. “I know I am . . . I can’t change it however.”

“Hey you need to eat to live,” I reply, taking a swig. As the taste of Salty Bitters collides with the back of my throat, I gag. Shaking my head furiously, I heave a strangled, “Oh gods—!”

The demon has a lopsided smile as I dig into my coat pockets, bringing out a handkerchief to hack into. I stuff the cloth into my mouth, trying to soak up whatever remains of the Salty Bitters in my mouth.

“I should’ve uh, forewarned you,” the demon murmurs. “I’ve had them for so long, I don’t taste it anymore. I still feel the effects though,” he laughs, placing a taloned hand over his face.

I spit out my handkerchief, opting to drink out of my canteen of water from then on.

“It’s, cough, okay,” I reassure. “My first drink when I was of age was Salty Bitters. It’s been a while since I had any, haha . . .”

The demon lifts his cup up into open air. One of the ever-floating bottles of Salty Bitters swoops over, filling up his tankard.

“What’re we drinking to?” I ask, steadying the canteen in my hand.

“To better times,” the demon murmurs. He immediately downs the tankard in one go.

It’s after that that I excuse himself, feeling nauseous. This sort of Salty Bitters is far more potent than the ones back home . . .

“Safe travels,” the demon bids me.

As I stumble out, the scenery outside The Hanged Raven has changed. It wasn’t full of red-lit mangroves—

It’s the very edge between a forest and a massive field. I trip, knocking over a wood pile. As I lay on the ground, confused, I decided to sleep it off . . .

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

IRIS

". . . and that’s how I’m here,” Shiloh concludes.

I stare at him, amazed. I look to Grandma, who looks back at me. Then, together, we look at Shiloh.

“How often do you travel the realms?” I ask, my mind racing.

“Often enough that demons don’t faze him,” Grandma replies.

“What your Gran said,” Shiloh nods.

“Um . . .” I rub my neck, trying to calm down. “That demon . . . did he tell you what his name was?”

“They don’t tend to.”

“Did he look familiar to you?”

“I rarely meet the same demon twice,” Shiloh explains, raising an eyebrow. “Why?"

“Salty Bitters is my father-in-law’s favorite drink,” Iris explains. “Julian Devorak’s his name. The fact you said this-this demon was drinking so much to cope—”

“Wait, what?” Shiloh stares at me. “That’s not possible.”

At this point, Grandma decides to get some water for the three of us. As she leaves her seat, Shiloh repeats that it isn’t possible for Julian to be my father-in-law.

“What makes you say that? Do you know Julian?”

“First off: everyone knows my dad,” Shiloh uses his fingers to mark each of his points thereon. “If my Dad is your father-in-law, you’d either be married to me or one of my siblings, if I had any. Since that isn’t the case . . .” He shakes his head some more, looking like he’s suffering another headache.

I rack my brain, trying another avenue: “Do you know Muriel?”

“Barely. He doesn’t like my dad much, so he tends to stay away unless it’s just my mom and/or Asra around.”

“Is your mom Lyra Nguyen?” I feel a strange weight in my chest. The weight is clammy, fueling my crumbling disbelief in what’s happening.

Grandma finally hands me a mug of water. I set it on the nearby table instead, my eyes flicking between the furniture within the hut, and Shiloh’s face.

“ . . . how . . . ?” Shiloh stares at me, expression matching my own.

We both look to my grandma, needing answers.

“Would Herm know?” I ask her.

“He should have some kind of answer,” Grandma nods. “We may need to wait a while, though.”

“Fine by me,” Shiloh sighs. He drinks his water, thanking Khamgalai. “May I sleep on the floor?”

“Let me get you some blankets young man. Please remove your shoes.”

Shiloh nods, immediately unlacing his long boots. I help Grandma get the blankets down from a storage closet, setting up an area for Shiloh to sleep off his hangover some more.

Pretty soon, he’s out to sleep. As for me, I take a moment to just . . . set my head on the table.

Grandma stands beside me, gently smoothing her hand over my back. “You should sleep too,” she recommends.

“I’ll sleep after we hear from Herm,” I softly reply, resting my chin on top of my crossed-over wrists. Satisfied with my answer, albeit a touch worried, Khamgalai leaves me alone.

The truth is . . . I do need sleep. Damn, forget mourning my mother and all for a minute . . .

I fight off my exhaustion with questions. When Mom was still alive, she said for every question I had, The Magician had about thrice as many in turn for me. It feels that way right now . . .

What did Shiloh’s mom see in Julian? According to my own mom and dad, he’s a hell of a nuisance at times. This was extremely so when Mom, Dad, Asra and my uncle Julian went into a crumbling Vesuvia to oust the late Pontifex Vulgora.

Is Nadia still the Countess?

Where’s Portia in all this? She’d be Shiloh’s aunt, right . . .?

What about Asra? Who did he end up with? For some reason, the thought of him travelling all on his own makes me unbearably sad . . .

“Not everyone ends up with someone, and that’s okay.” Mom always told me that. That was her comforting words to me when I was having difficulty finding a partner I wanted to spend my life with.

Considering Shiloh now, that made me wonder . . .

Did Noah exist with Shiloh’s world? Did Uncle Ąžuolas exist? What about Esther and Hazel? Having a world without them, it feels so wrong . . .

Before long, I’m fully asleep.

NEXT: [TBA]

[ask-jaghatai-khan]

What is your favorite food

“Boodog! Made from the whole carcass of a Chogoran avarga-yamaa!* There is no more kingly dish!

Best served as part of a sprawling feast with buuz and khuushuur, khorkhog and much airag! And aaruul for afterwards!”

*аварга ямаа