#aneril

"I'm head of the family now, technically. Our family, anyway. So I can give permission."

"You'll send the whole tomb into an uproar! Every ancestor's ghost will haunt that place for weeks!"

"Who cares? I just want Shuri with me."

"This is outrageous-"

"Anni, think about it. We won't be around forever. Our children won't be around forever. And among them, only Selyn has ever known him. When we're gone and forgotten, what will happen to Shuri's grave under his little tree? He'll be all alone, with no one to visit him."

Aneril's heart twinged. Their senche-tiger had enjoyed being around people. Even on his 'grumpy old man' days - as Vareysa had called it - he still curled up in his usual corner of the living room, albeit with his back to them.

"I don't know about this…"

"If you won't do it, then I'll get Selyn to do it. You know she will. Ugh." Vareysa groaned, head falling back into the pillows. "Selyn…where will she be buried?"

Now there was another thought Aneril didn't want to ponder. A lost Ashlander daughter, raised by a city Dunmer and Altmer. With each foot in different worlds, where would she choose to take her last breath?

Aneril gave herself a mental shake, focusing back on her wife. "Your thoughts are getting too maudlin tonight. Go to sleep."

Vareysa didn't protest, sitting up to let Aneril rearrange the pillows, then let themself be guided down to the bed.

Aneril kissed their forehead. "Selyn will be buried however and wherever she wants. And Shuri…I'll have his urn set beside yours in the tomb."

"Huh. Makes sense. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're a weirdo. Now close your eyes, weirdo."

Vareysa hummed, then closed their eyes. Just before Aneril took up her puzzle book again, they said, "Do you wanna store your ashes in the same urn with me? We could get a bigger one to share."

"And close your mouth while you're at it, please."

The impish giggle made Aneril roll her eyes, and she picked up the book with a smile.

She had spent long centuries watching Vareysa's maroon hair grow white, while her own blonde hair had only picked up grey streaks. She'd lent an arm to support her partner on walks when Vareysa's gait stiffened and slowed, while her own legs were still powerful enough to chase down bandits and kick the stuffing out of them. Once in a while, she'd wondered if Vareysa would ever lose her whimsy, gathering the years more rapidly than Aneril did.