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 Tide-Born Funerary Practices |
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| ID | 8492 | ||
| Collection | Solstice Summations | ||
I visited Shell-Tide village, the hub of Tide-Born culture, as part of my research and work for the College of Rituals. There I met a young Argonian by the name of Tlali-Haas. He introduced himself as the tide-reader's assistant, and while I feel the need to note this seemed to be a self-made title, his eagerness was energizing. We spent hours sitting beneath the opalescent roof of a giant seashell and sipping at a hot, thick brew he called saiewin atol, a type of grain drink if I understood correctly.
Now, in the past, I have found my prodding into Saxhleel funerary practices to be met with suspicion, which I can hardly begrudge, but Tlali-Haas was unfazed. Almost immediately he rattled off a chittering speech about tidal votives and grave-stakes before I could put down my drink and make notes. So, if you find there to be inaccuracies in my depiction of Tide-Born funerary practices, please know they were the result of an old Elf trying to keep up with a young, let us say, cultural ambassador.
To best understand how the Tide-Born lay their kin to rest, we must start with their adolescence. At a young age, the Tide-Born are given a tidal votive, a small trinket or talisman that is chosen by those closest to them. This can be a parent, guardian, or even mentor figure, as blood, or rather egg clutch, does not guarantee a deep familial connection.
Tlali-Haas, for instance, was gifted a small conch shell by Shoal-Tender Noki. Tlali explained that this conch has a small hole near its tip that added a soft whistle to the ocean sounds contained in the shell. A reminder that every Tide-Born's connection to the tide is their own, and that no two songs sound the same.
Once a Tide-Born has been gifted their votive, they must decide where it will be stored. Often this will not be their residence, but a location on Solstice where they feel closest to the tide's song. From flower fields and rocky bluffs to the hatchery or giant seashells that litter the shore. The practice allows the Tide-Born to carve out their own places of worship. That the very act of prayer or meditation is itself ephemeral and impermanent. It is likely that you, dear reader, have walked past hidden votives without ever knowing it.
Many Tide-Born reach a natural and peaceful end, but others are taken too soon. From accidents, to storms, to the numerous forces who have tried to claim Solstice as their own. These sudden deaths can leave a Tide-Born spirit to wander the island. You see, their votive is meant to accompany the dead in their final moments so that they may return to the tide with the prayers they accumulated over their lifetime.
When their time nears, and a death-dancer has been summoned to perform their rites, they entrust a member of the village with the collecting of their votive. But when death claims them suddenly and they had not entrusted their votive's location to an egg-kin, it is up to the death-dancer to entreat Sithis for the safe passage of the spirit into the Void. Or, in rare cases, the summoning of the departed spirits so they may reveal their votive's location, though this practice is known by only a few death-dancers and can risk the trapping of these spirits to the land.
As I understand it, the Tide-Born believe that they are returned to Nirn so that they may be given another chance to reach their destined scales. Whether a Tide-Born believes they've achieved such a thing affects the way in which they are buried.
An Argonian who believes they attained their destined scales will be given a burial not dissimilar to mainland Argonians. A grave-stake carved with the Argonian's story is plunged into their body, rooting them in a revered burial plot near Shell-Tide Village where they will be remembered in song and prayer.
An Argonian who fears they fell short of their goal will instead have their bodies pinned along the island's sand bars. A grave-stake is still used to hold the body in place, but only until the tide, and its myriad of creatures, can reduce the body to nothingness. An expedited return to the Void so that their cycle may begin again.
It was at this point, as I looked out across the sea, that I noticed the slivers of wood poking out of a distant sand bar hidden by the tide. Tlali followed my eye, grinned, and said simply, "perhaps when they return, I will be Tide-Reader." A sentiment that seemed to neatly capture what I'd come to realize about the tide. Its presence is constant on Solstice. A rhythm that had come to inform the evenness of my breath and the pace of our conversation.
The tide does not rush. It does not stand still. It merely flows in and out.