Lys: Honor Him

Aithne, not yet ready to plunge headlong into the water, dangled her feet into it and let them get halfway adjusted. Faith, but the water was cold! Like as not, she'd go numb before she got warm.

Taking another deep breath, she exhaled before answering. "Da- my father- sent me his cloak and his harp." She won't understand, Aithne. "They aren't just mementos or gifts. He knew I would want to honor him when I heard..." The tears welled up again, and she waited a moment before continuing. "I wasn't at his funeral. As his daughter and his student I should have been. I want to remember him... to do the ceremony again, this evening."

She sought for the proper words. "I can't do it quietly in a corner. That would be dishonor, rather than honor. But I don't think your people... I don't think any of you will understand it.

"I... I don't want to be a disruption, but it's a very public thing by nature. I was hoping you could help me to not offend anyone."

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