(no subject)

[dashing]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Herian Amsel
RECIPIENT: everyone with a crystal
WHAT: Deep Thoughts & Dogges
WHEN: during Nevarra stuff, prior to the dragon hunt & Necropolis Thriller Reenactment.
WHERE: Nevaaaarra
NOTES: content warning for themes of loss & death. Also just a heads up that Herian is (still) a big jerk about the Dalish and rebels/eager apostates

Inquisition,

( she starts, and then there is a moment of pause. Her accent is stronger than it was before her trip to Starkhaven, renewed by proximity even if it has already softened from what it had been there. She speaks with that same, inevitable control, but she does not sound quite the same type of calm as usual. )

How do you best honour the dead? Recently or long departed. I would be glad to know.

( Just a casual question, nbd.

She sure doesn't sound like "glad" should be a description of her ever, but maybe given the content she can be forgiven. There's a small bark, and though it cannot be seen, rest assured that Herian is frowning at the source. There is a measured pause, before Herian adds, )

And if any could advise me what to do with a small canine that sees fit to prance about wherever I go, I'd be grateful.

( Quietly exasperated, to the dog as she moves to end the post, ) You're too short for the stairs. Accept it.

Comments

private.

[elegiaque]

Who?

( Quiet, and not unkind. Herian was there-

Herian knows what she was there for. What Gwenaelle might feel she owes. )

permaprivate.

[dashing]

My mother. I learned of her passing when I visited Starkhaven with Enchanter Ceallach.

( She sounds Totally Fine. If by totally find you mean that she sounds like she's done the emotional equivalent of holding her emotions under ice. )

[thunderproof]

Well, first off, you love the dog forever and name it Greg. Greg has chosen you, lady, how could you turn him away?

❰ adalia's voice is bright with humour and delight — small doggo — but it sobers after a moment. ❱

More seriously... I don't know that there is a way to honour the dead. They're dead. Anything you do for them is really more for you, don't you think? So whatever you do, make it personally meaningful, and in line with what you think they would have wanted in life.

[dashing]

Greg.

( oi wot m8 it's a corgi

Except that Herian is Herian, and so that sounds both like a serious assessment and mildly judgmental at the same time. It's a careful balance. ) I don't like dogs. It is nothing in particular against... ( a sigh, ) "Greg."

( Also, skillful pressing of many guilt buttons, new acquaintance. )

Do you think it merely a selfish indulgence, then?

[wickedchase]

I drink. A lot.

[dashing]

( Ah. )

The Knight's Code advocates temperance. It strikes me as less an honouring of the dead, and more a... destructive attempt to balm an injury.

[galvanising]

[ Nell doesn't mean to laugh right at the beginning of the message. She'd intended a serious answer, but just as she hits record she hears Herian telling the dog the sad facts of its life and so there's a choked noise of surprise at the top of this reply. And then a pause, to regroup after that. Then: ]

You remember them, and you do your best to make sure they didn't live and die for nothing.

[dashing]

( add that to the list of reasons Nell Voss is objectively the worst EVEN IF this is before promotion gloomies

She is squinting at the crystal before she makes a reply, because... laughter. Her reply is just slightly pointed. )

Through mirth?

[outil]

I suppose for me, it may depend on the person in question.

Reflection, I think, is often what I do. Less to think of how they may judge me now in life, but more in what their life they have taught me. And how to hold onto those lessons.

[dashing]

And if you had not seen that person in a long while? Do you stand by that, even in cases where the memories might be fragile or distant?

[arlathvhen]

[ This probably won't end well, but here she is, doing it anyway. ]

If we have the body, the Dalish bury it, and plant a sapling over the remains. Death nourishes life, and gives their loved ones a testament to their memories.

[ There's more to it than that, but she's not going to just spill all their practices. ]

If there is no body, than we simply pick a spot that we think the deceased would like, and plant the sapling there. Even without the body, there is still life, and still a marker of a life well lived.

[dashing]

( On the one hand, how dare she. On the other, Herian is not so far gone as to think this is inherently malicious, she knows her own rage, her disgust, but— )

Thank you. Is there ever fear of possession, even so entombed?

[aestivation]

What are your intentions and resources?

[ do u still have the body, are u a southern heathen, are u trying to make yourself feel better or make other people feel better, etc look there are a lot of variables here

a pause to listen for the dog. he def can't help there, best specify: ]

For the dead.

[dashing]

My intentions?

( Part of her is Real Mad about the question, and part of her recognises the logic in it, the necessity. )

To mourn. Pay respects. To apologise, in some measure. She died some... twelve or so years ago. Her body is long since burned.

( Plausibly in a mass-burning of diseased corpses, than the single pyre Herian would have wished for her. She did not ask. She dare not ask. )

[aforethought]

Who are you exactly, t'go telling him what he can an' can't do.

[ the mild offense in her voice is entirely well-intentioned. talking on the dead, that doesn't help no one. talking just means you've got to think, and when someone dies, it's everyone has to do enough of that already.

dogs, tho — ]

[dashing]

It is physically incapable. If he is not told he will do himself some injury.

[faithlikeaseed]

Live to make the best of what they've given you and remember them with gratitude to the Maker.

[That part is solemn. But his usual smile creeps back in for the dog:]

I'd keep him, but I've a notoriously soft heart.

[dashing]

I wonder, at anyone born in an alienage finding joy in dogs, when humans so enjoy herding and hunting with their hounds.

( does she sound bitter
she sure does )

You are welcome to him, Myrobalan.

[fistcrash]

You move on.

The dead are dead, and have no wise words to give you.

[dashing]

It is not about seeking someone from the dead. It is... a matter of respecting someone important, whose life has passed. Their absence does not mean they are no longer important.

[circleprodigy]

It depends on their faith and heritage, I suppose. Honoring them according to such, as long as they had not expressed a preference otherwise, seems respectful enough to my view.

I already have sufficient canine presence in my life, so I cannot take him off your hands permanently. However, if you believe a playmate would do said small canine some good, I'm certain Garahel would be happy to oblige.

[dashing]

Respectful enough, aye, but when all that has been already done? A pyre burned, long past. If might be respectful enough to cover the most basic requirements of faith, but what of beyond that? Are they simply forgot?

( She sighs a little. Ah, le angst. )

Garahel is likely big enough to eat this small creature.

[degenere]

I suggest a very large portrait. What better way to remember than to have their likeness immortalized above you? And you will support the arts. A noble cause.

Or of course you might consider having a wing named after them. A popular choice, if a bit overdone.

[dashing]

A popular choice amongst those with sufficient wealth to ensure a property to their name large enough to have wings. Or to house a portrait, for that matter.

( Orlais!!! Why!!! But she says it evenly, despite her internal !!!!! )

Private

[youwonscience]

You okay?

[Also:]

You definitely do not have to call your puppy Greg. I mean, unless you want to, but I'm happy to help with name suggestions.

[You are obviously keeping the dog, Herian.]

permaprivate.

[dashing]

I am well, thank you.

( She it not, at all. That very numb tone might be telling. )

I am... not sure the dog is dignified enough to be called "Gregory," or any variation. ( But, she stirs herself. Get it together, Herian. ) How are you?

[earthbones]

You live. It's what I did. I lived, I remembered them, I kept my bow drawn and dagger sharp. Kept our ways.

[Can you taste the religious guilt?]

As for the dog...If it's annoying, I know some recipes. [Brónach your bosmer humour and lifestyle are too niche for the Thedosians.]

[dashing]

I am glad to speak with you again, Brónach. Sadly, I fear my lady would be less than appreciative of putting a dog to such practical use.

( dogs are garbage animals >:C )

What do you do when... you have been disconnected from those ways a long while? Perhaps so long that they are no longer yours to claim?

[mal_adjusted]

Well, my people build our dead giant pyramids and give them all the comforts they might have missed in life.

[Nevarra heeeeeey.]

But, I guess. If you're just looking to honor them? Aaaaah, build a small shrine for them? You know. With ...candles. And whatever.

[dashing]

( "Just" honour? Herian has to take a moment, exhale and remember that it might not have been a slight on the very concept of honour, itself. She is too easily stirred to anger. )

Whatever? You instructions are a little vague.

[gatheringstorm]

I can't speak for anyone else, but...I get tattoos. I have one which represents members of my fallen company, and a honey badger for Asher. I'll...get another, soon enough. [Sina.] That way, those I lose are always with me.

[dashing]

I do enjoy the thought of having markers of a person's significance on one's skin, almost akin to... some protective talisman. I cannot begin to think what I would get.

[tactical_alert]

We've the kennels, though generally the dogs taken care of there are larger and...working. But I've still it in me to open it up to care for and train any of the strays about the city. Surely we can find a place for a dog too small for even a set of stairs, a companion at someone's feet.

As for the more pressing question.

[And there is the rub. He can hardly say he'd mourned several much less honored them. Some he still holds hope are still alive with no proof to the contrary. But those he has--]

Prayer. A simple if by no means small act. Acts of uncommon charity. Or, if the honouring ought remain private, the use of a symbol of the dead. Something to carry with you, or to leave in an important place.

[dashing]

I thank you, Ser. I will have to see if I've leave from my lady to see the dog cared for by other hands. She is already eager to see it properly named.

( Crossing Cosima would probably be a poor decision. )

She was devout. ( Devout to a faith that did not much favour the elves, true, but devout nonetheless, that ingrained devotion that brings strange comfort and suffering combined to the downtrod. ) Prayer might be the best means, until I can settle on something more... tangible.