(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

[faithlikeaseed]

Good; she'll find something brilliant. If it comes to that.

[He's inclined to say he's glad to hear it, because that's polite and social and leaves a kinswoman her barriers--and also it's a lie, which the Maker abhors. So instead:] Have you found a suitable way to honor her, then?

[He'd been listening.]

[dashing]

Yes. Cosima is brilliant.

( Herian's voice is softened a little bit - fond, really. It's probably the warmest she's ever sounded. )

I— I do not know. It isn't a decision lightly made. What would you do?

[faithlikeaseed]

[He makes a silent note of that, smiling to himself.

It's not a long-lived smile.]

It's not, is it?

I was too young to make any decisions about it when my father died; whatever was done for him was in my brother's hands. [It would be charitable to have said "my family" and include his own mother there--but he knew with mortal certainty even at that young age she wouldn't have bestirred herself.] But I prayed for him, every night after we'd gotten word, for--oh, years. [Still does, sometimes.] And brought flowers to the vhenadahl, now that I can.

If I were only learning now-- [Words fail him, for once, and he trails off into thoughtful silence. It's such a large if he can't wrap his mind around it easily.] I'd bring it to the Maker and his Bride, I think. It isn't a decision lightly made and there might be aught They could offer.