On Death's Honor

Chapter 24: Little Meanings

Hida was getting married.

It was a bittersweet moment, as her father was no longer around to break bread with her soon-to-be husband, as tradition demanded. She wasn't sure if the passing of Savos's mother a few years prior rubbed salt in the wound or not, as that meant she wouldn't have to eat with her own mother-in-law.

No matter. She would have to do what she had always done, and simply make do with what she currently had on hand.

They were having the ceremony along the rocky shoreline away from the docks, where the waves crashed and demanded to be acknowledged. It was along the sleek rocks that she stood, gowned in a silky green dress that ended just above her bare feet. A thick, heavy cloak made of pelts from animals Savos had hunted hung around her shoulders, and her hair was tied into a thick, articulate bun held in place by a silvery, leafy-designed brooch - a gift from her sister, although how Erlan had gotten such a piece was still a mystery Hida wasn't sure if she wanted solved.

While the late spring air and breeze were much warmer than its winter counterpart, the spray from the clashing waves still very much held onto its icy touch, as Hida had found standing so close to the water.

"I am not redoing your makeup if it washes away," remarked a young voice from behind. A ghost of a smile touched Hida's lips. Both, Erlan and the girls' mother, had spent the past few days dyeing and matching inks and powders to get the colors just right for this specific day. They'd painted the space just beneath her eyes a shade of green that matched her dress, with thin, gentle lines curling back to her temples in delicate strokes, followed by painstaking silvery swirls around the bridge of her nose and cheeks - something Erlan had done, because apparently, those markings were actually words in some ancient seafarers' language.

According to her sister, one slight tilt of a stroke could mean the difference between writing "new life" or "smelly nappies". Hida wasn't at all certain if this was accurate, being information Erlan had gotten from the many books the runkist lent her. Hida found it hard to believe that some distant foreigner knew the language her ancestors spoke, but the girl was insistent on making sure she got it right.

Hida had never seen her sister pay so close attention to detail before.

"Relax, dear sister," Hida said. "I will be okay if there happens to be a smudge here and there."

"My sister is not getting married with "Adtros' Pits" written across her forehead," the girl objected. Hida turned to face her, eyebrows raised. A brief, familiar twinge of wistfulness rose in her chest at the sight of her sister. The younger girl was just shy of fifteen, but Hida remembered all too well the small child that used to be incredibly afraid of the dark.

She still is, Hida thought. She just doesn't let it stop her.

"You would be the only one to notice," she pointed out. Erlan scowled.

"I shouldn't be," she insisted. "Do you even know why you're dressed the way you are? We follow Nevhian gods, but our traditions aren't even Nevhian culture-"

"You know, sometimes I wonder if it even matters," Hida interrupted with a sigh. "What god stems from where. Doesn't the she-demon teach that they all exist? How can you be a god of something when there are others just like you?"

"Because we misunderstand the way- oh, you're worse than Beamol," Erlan scrunched her nose. "You don't even care, do you?"

Hida laughed, moving to pull her younger sister into a side hug.

"It's tradition stemmed from ignorance, Erlan."

"How can you claim our ancestors were ignorant when you don't even know why brides and grooms go barefooted in our people's weddings? Or what's written on your face?"