if it doesn't burn a little
”Fine,” she says, with what is an absolutely exaggerated sigh. She throws up her hands in the universal ‘I surrender’ gesture, even though she had agreed to at least a few lessons. ”You can train me. Though you may have to do it at the Kraai.” Weaver was a busy lady, after all. Still, she knew she would find time for the lessons, or at the very least, for him. Though she cannot make it that easy, because then she wouldn’t be her rather impossible self.
His expression grows more serious, and she crosses her arms again, sobering at his question. ”You build and light the pyre anyway. Say the rights. Some people will burn possessions, some won't. But it’s thought that the spirit will hear it all the same and feel at peace enough to pass on to Mort’s realm, whether the body is physically there or not.” There is perhaps some real truth to that, though also, Weaver has always suspected that funerals were as much for the living as the dead. Having missed her brother's, she knows what its like when there isn't that final goodbye.
His expression grows more serious, and she crosses her arms again, sobering at his question. ”You build and light the pyre anyway. Say the rights. Some people will burn possessions, some won't. But it’s thought that the spirit will hear it all the same and feel at peace enough to pass on to Mort’s realm, whether the body is physically there or not.” There is perhaps some real truth to that, though also, Weaver has always suspected that funerals were as much for the living as the dead. Having missed her brother's, she knows what its like when there isn't that final goodbye.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
