[Oh - everyone has been taking his usual words in stride, perhaps indulging his eccentricities in the fact that he's visually distinct from most of the others here. He bows his head in acknowledgement.]

A term of address. Is there something you would rather be called? I am Thara Celehar, a Prelate of Ulis. [A name he knows won't mean much, so he elaborates,] To my people, the God of the Dead.

They are the ones who strayed away, perhaps. Or the ones who could not let go.

[Celehar glances over towards the forms, his lips thinning.]

But it is not so easy to ask them.