"There's a joke like, Plainsfolk don't use personal names because they keep changing. Not to get into it, but I'll say I had a child-name that means 'runt goat' that was wildly inappropriate by the time I shed it." She smiles sardonically at the memory. Really, the idea of keeping one name for all of a person's life seems so limiting to her. Hierarchical, but that's housefolk for you. They're as set in some kind of great chain of being as Plainsfolk are in clans.
There's a lot she could say about her names and her history and Lashan thinks about it as she nurses her little bowl. A lot of things that were very painful once have been worn small and smooth enough that they don't choke her to say, particularly with the mild, pleasing warmth of the airag in her. It still takes a level of sincerity that she has to be very careful about. For the moment she settles on, "I hunted a big old boar by myself to... 'become a man' isn't right but it's got a better ring to it. We had four paths out of childhood and the Hunter's looked the most impressive and achievable to me when I was growing out of all my clothes and had rocks for brains. Also, if you go for a boar in a Boar Clan, that just looks good."
A nod over Vena, towards the ancient pelt and yellowed tusk ornaments. The faded eyes of the tattoo across her chest show above the low collar of her shirt, as well.
She shakes the skin. With less liquid inside it sloshes more noisily and at a higher pitch than before she'd taken it inside. There are small curds in the remainder. "Two bowls if I don't fill them to the top, but it's thick. If I know I'm drinking with company I bring a bit of cow's milk to cut the last of it with." Cow's milk at this hour is quite sour, any that hasn't already been drank or used to make something else.
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There's a lot she could say about her names and her history and Lashan thinks about it as she nurses her little bowl. A lot of things that were very painful once have been worn small and smooth enough that they don't choke her to say, particularly with the mild, pleasing warmth of the airag in her. It still takes a level of sincerity that she has to be very careful about. For the moment she settles on, "I hunted a big old boar by myself to... 'become a man' isn't right but it's got a better ring to it. We had four paths out of childhood and the Hunter's looked the most impressive and achievable to me when I was growing out of all my clothes and had rocks for brains. Also, if you go for a boar in a Boar Clan, that just looks good."
A nod over Vena, towards the ancient pelt and yellowed tusk ornaments. The faded eyes of the tattoo across her chest show above the low collar of her shirt, as well.
She shakes the skin. With less liquid inside it sloshes more noisily and at a higher pitch than before she'd taken it inside. There are small curds in the remainder. "Two bowls if I don't fill them to the top, but it's thick. If I know I'm drinking with company I bring a bit of cow's milk to cut the last of it with." Cow's milk at this hour is quite sour, any that hasn't already been drank or used to make something else.