Beleth is no stranger to drunkenness, nor smoking various substances, and she takes to both of these cheerfully. Everything going on has just been So Much as of late, and it's nice to unwind with a room of people that she trusts. And Wren. She's much more limber like this, stretched out across a mattress, occasionally rolling around to view everyone upside down. She feels like a still towel that had been poorly air dried, slowly being warmed up from her core, wrinkles smoothing out.
It's upside down that she calmly watches her roommates ask their questions, and give their answers. It's only when Myr addresses her that she rolls again to face up, and gives a quiet little huff of a laugh. It takes some serious thought, to work through that pleasant fog, but eventually she gives a casual shrug.
"It's never mentioned expressly, least not as I've heard. If I had to guess...We bury our dead, you know." She leans against Thranduil's shoulder now, suddenly feeling a great deal of affection for everyone in the room. Except Wren. "We plant a sapling over the body. That's why the Emerald Graves is a forest. They're all burial trees." That's a sobering thought, and Beleth quickly moves past it.
"The body gives nutrients to the tree, and it's...a cycle, you know?" She moves her hand in a circle, oblivious to the fact that Myr wouldn't see it. "We are given life, and in death, give life in return. But if you, ah. Do the whole Nevarran thing...there's no new life that you're replenishing. The body just. Lays there. So, I think the safest assumption would be...Sounds like some shem bullshit."
At that, she presses her face into Thranduil's shoulder, to muffle the sudden fit of giggles she's overcome with. Ha ha, shems. What crazy shit will they think of, next.
Once she's done being entirely too pleased by her own little joke, she finally pulls away long enough to glance around the room. Then, her eyes rest on the Medicine Seller, and she leans forward. "Glaewron. Why do you only have a job title, and not a name? Surely, even if you weren't given one, or didn't like the one you had, you could just choose a new name. So why go by your title?"
no subject
It's upside down that she calmly watches her roommates ask their questions, and give their answers. It's only when Myr addresses her that she rolls again to face up, and gives a quiet little huff of a laugh. It takes some serious thought, to work through that pleasant fog, but eventually she gives a casual shrug.
"It's never mentioned expressly, least not as I've heard. If I had to guess...We bury our dead, you know." She leans against Thranduil's shoulder now, suddenly feeling a great deal of affection for everyone in the room. Except Wren. "We plant a sapling over the body. That's why the Emerald Graves is a forest. They're all burial trees." That's a sobering thought, and Beleth quickly moves past it.
"The body gives nutrients to the tree, and it's...a cycle, you know?" She moves her hand in a circle, oblivious to the fact that Myr wouldn't see it. "We are given life, and in death, give life in return. But if you, ah. Do the whole Nevarran thing...there's no new life that you're replenishing. The body just. Lays there. So, I think the safest assumption would be...Sounds like some shem bullshit."
At that, she presses her face into Thranduil's shoulder, to muffle the sudden fit of giggles she's overcome with. Ha ha, shems. What crazy shit will they think of, next.
Once she's done being entirely too pleased by her own little joke, she finally pulls away long enough to glance around the room. Then, her eyes rest on the Medicine Seller, and she leans forward. "Glaewron. Why do you only have a job title, and not a name? Surely, even if you weren't given one, or didn't like the one you had, you could just choose a new name. So why go by your title?"