"Thank you, everyone, for coming," Jocelynn said. Her voice was rougher than she would have liked, worn thin by a mourning filled with weeping, but it carried well enough in the quiet of the chapel.
"I know this isn't how we'd do things at home," she said. "Or how things are done in Lothian March, either. None of this is how it should be," she said, her voice catching in her throat. For a moment, she wished she had a cup of wine to drink from, but she forced herself to keep going without one. It wasn't time for dinking yet. "We're all a long way from home, and we'll have to make do."
She paused, resting her hand on the chest beside her.
"Most of you knew my sister," she continued, drawing strength from the collection of treasures in the chest. "Some of you served her before she left Blackwell, and some of you only knew her by reputation. But all of you came here because you're part of our family, and when we lose someone, when a crew loses a shipmate, we all grieve together."
