I forgot I had already decided how Niva picks her name, and I thought up this whole other scenario. I can't get away from it so I'm writing it up.
A name?
Niva bit her lip. How could she just pick a name for the rest of her life?
"I. . .I choose-"
Suddenly, a memory blossomed across the girl's mind.
"You're like a rose, Niva. Just perfect and beautiful."
Niva carefully smeared ointment across the scars on Lise's face and worked for an answer.
"Beauty fades, Lise, dearest. The rose eventually wilts."
Lise looked up and smiled through her tears. "Eventually."
"Besides if- when- you marry someone, they want you, your personality and ideas and feelings. Those stay forever, not like beauty. You watch, in sixty years, we'll be sitting here and you'll have your childrens' babies all around you and I'll have to love them too, since I'll have poked any potential husbands with my thorns." Niva grinned. "They'll all have bloody fingers after me."
Lise smiled back. "What about Anders? He was looking at you at the festival. Don't deny it!"
"Novice Niva?"
"I choose. . . to be Rosethorn."
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