milliways_bar | (no subject)

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sheemie ruiz

(no subject)

Can't stay inside forever, however much he dislikes the season. So, Sheemie's outside with the kitten on his shoulder, walking barefoot through the leaves towards the stables.

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A tall young man in a straw hat and rough peasants' clothes has opted to skip the room full of strangers and take his bowl of congee outside to eat. He's only sort of near the stables, so it takes him a bit to realize there's another person outside; curiously he glances in Sheemie's direction.

Sheemie waves when he notices the other man looking.

Ox, for his part, sets his bowl aside and nods politely. He's not really sure if he's supposed to bow to the people he meets here yet. Just to be on the safe side, he comes to his feet and starts to do so.

What? Social habit.

Sheemie watches him curiously, this not being something he's encountered before, then mimicks the gesture.

Ox smiles a little as he straightens up. "Not bad," he says quietly. "Especially for a first try. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Thee didn't", Sheemie assures him. "I were just going to the stable."

Ox nods. And then blinks.

"I knew this place was big, but... it has a stable?" He looks around. "I thought that was just an artificial lake. You keep horses here?"

"Aye. Many horses, now. Just there." He points.

Ox turns. Looks. Whistles.

"This place must belong to someone phenomenally rich," he murmurs, eyes wide. "No wineseller back home could afford a place like this."

"It's different folken own the horses", Sheemie clarifies. "Each pays for a stall."

"Ah," says Ox. "That makes more sense. We don't have that many horses in Peking anyway. Mostly just the ones for the Postal Service."

"I ken not Peking, say sorry."

Ox blinks for a bit before he puzzles his way through the dialect. "Ah," he says with a smile. "It's a city in my country- the Middle Kingdom, which the barbarian nations call China."

And that introduction reminds him. "My surname is Lu and my personal name is Yu," he says, "but everyone calls me Number Ten Ox."

Sheemie brightens, interested. "I'm Sheemie, sai. My land were called Mid-World."

Ox considers this, racking his brain for memories of Master Li's maps. Eventually, he shakes his head. "Unless it's one of the western provinces," he says, "I don't think I've heard that name used before- but until a few years ago I had lived all my life in my little village. The abbot might not have known that particular name."

"It weren't on Earth, sai."

"Oh," says Ox.

It isn't an upset 'oh', or a confused one. Really, all it is, is an acknowledgment. Ox is fully prepared to accept the concept of multiple worlds.

Just don't ask him to successfully navigate the use of the flush toilets.

"It's in the realm of human beings, though, right? Not one of the god-realms or the world of the ghosts?"

"Oh, aye. Humans."

Ox nods. He's seen some things in his travels with Master Li, but other worlds aren't among them.

Unless you count visiting Hell, but that's not really the same.

"Need help with anything?" he asks, glancing towards the stables.

"Ye could help groom or exercise the horses, if'ee like."

Ox thinks about this, then nods. "The exercising should not be a problem," he says confidently.

Sheemie grins. "Over here, then."

The young man follows along after, sniffing curiously at the air. Well, stables everywhere seem to smell about the same, although in his village they're only really cowsheds.

Sheemie pushes open the stable door and stands aside.

It takes Ox's eyes a bit to adjust to the change in light, but when they do and he catches sight of the horses-

"Aiya..."

"They're beauties, truey-true", Sheemie agrees proudly.

Ox can scarcely believe his eyes. "Where did you get these?" he cries, stepping forward. "I don't think I've ever seen horses like this! This tall, this- this- their necks-" He gestures futilely towards the nearest stall. "They don't breed them like this in China, that's for sure."

Sheemie blinks.

"They're fine beasts, aye, but... no more special than that."

Blinking as well, Ox looks back down at Sheemie. "For your country, maybe. Not for mine. Horses are for soldiers and the Postal Service, and the Son of Heaven imports them by the hundreds every year."

"Tell me of yer horses?"

Ox thinks for a bit, and then indicates a height not much more than the withers of a pony with one hand. "They mostly stand this tall at the shoulder," he says, "and they're dun-colored, or dark brown, or sometimes patches of different colors. Outside of the government the only people who really have them are the nobility, because they can afford to keep them. The fine horses come from somewhere past the western edge of the empire, a barbarian country called Ferghana..."

"And yer finest are small, like ye showed?"

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