<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c2/5a/5b/c25a5b9d4712a0ffad833f263d4d9023.jpg)   </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Aesa Wyrmborn</span>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=237173.msg11677350#msg11677350)<br/>Dragon-Blooded Elven Arcanist 1 (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=560159)<br/><hr/><br/>Aesa nodded at Timo's explanation.  A custom, then, but not a local one; she wouldn't be expected to sing, at least.  Nor did she want to shorten this road.  It still seemed so sudden; a part of her couldn't believe the professor was really dead.  She had no desire to rush this final farewell.  She wasn't prone to grand displays of emotion.<br/><br/>Instead she smiled softly at the shrouded thing's attempt to swear in elvish.  "I realize that term is a curse in common, but in elvish it really just means one isn't a virgin.  It has more to do with old customs of marriage.  It's sort of saying, um," she paused a moment to think, "that the grandmothers might find your hairstyle inappropriate."  She considered supplying another term - there was a great one about cutting down trees with a dull axe that managed to imply stupidity, impotence, and an allusion to a ballad with an unfaithful traitor who deserved a slow death by castration.  Probably not suitable over her friend's casket, though, even if she did treasure a memory of getting very drunk with him once and sharing regional insults.<br/><br/>Aesa was surprised when the priest offered the opportunity to speak.  She considered that, too, but shook her head sadly to decline, shifting slightly away.  There were too many words to say here.  She had little influence with the gods, would be more likely to curse them anyway, and there was no summary of her oldest friend that would fit comfortably into an anecdote or description.  Besides, the customs were too strange in this eerie, treeless cemetery, and - as happened so often - she felt very much the awkward outsider.