(2022-03-19) The Aspenwood Harbrooke Wedding

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	The massive group RP of the Aspenwood Harbrooke wedding, from Ceremony to Reception.
Rating:	T for Teen

Chain: Morson

In Stormwind’s Cathedral Square, the fountain’s water sparkles in the early-afternoon sunlight beaming out of a clear sky and casts bright rippling reflections on the white walls of the surrounding structures. The square itself catches the light like a bowl, pooling the luminescence in a nearly tangible concentration, only mildly diffused by the well-tended trees spaced throughout the area. The blue runner up the cathedral steps shimmers at the edges, its gold inlay seeming to almost vibrate with absorbed radiance, leading those who approach to the cool and shadowed entrance chambers. Footfalls are muted on the ascent, and whatever sound emanates from within is captured and scattered into murmurs and whispers before one reaches the interior proper.

Inside, the afternoon incense smolders in perfectly-spaced alcoves, a scent of warm spice emanating throughout the Cathedral of the Holy Light. Coming out of the darker passageway gives the comparative illusion of being bathed in a shower of light – intense, but more welcoming than overwhelming. The guests have begun to assemble, led to their places within the Cathedral by several ushers dressed in simple suits with bright white and gold gloves. The families of the grooms, excepting the fathers, are in the front row: Aspenwoods to the left, and Harbrookes to the right, of the center dais that has been prepared for the occasion.

On the left side:

There is Lord Amadeus Aspenwood, the eldest of Colson's and Cressidha's brothers, a dignified-looking man in his late thirties. His dark blonde hair is already peppered with gray, and there is a prominent scar diagonally across his chin. The ceremonial suit of armor with its badges and ribbons marks him as a Lieutenant-Commander in Stormwind's army. He sits next to his wife, the visibly pregnant Lady Gardenia Aspenwood, who is wearing a beautiful maternity gown. Her black hair is swept up in an elaborate style, and her makeup is well-applied. Next to her is their six-year-old son, Lord Arnold "Arnie" Aspenwood, who looks restless and bored and uncomfortable in his suit. He has his mother's black hair and his father's blue eyes and he is waiting and worst of all there is a cat present and the cat is not next to him.

Instead, seated on Arnie's right is his uncle and Colson's other brother, Lord Bertrand Aspenwood, his head turned to the side as he whispers to his own fiancée, Lady Priscilla Moore. The two of them are extremely conventionally attractive and well-dressed and are apparently off in their own little world.

To the right of Lady Priscilla is an empty chair, clearly reserved, and next to that is Lady Clara Aspenwood herself. The matron of the family is wearing a beautiful purple velvet gown. Her grey hair is braided and pinned up in an extremely fashionable style, and in her arms is a siamese cat wearing a black and white polka-dotted bowtie. Oswald the cat is on full alert, yet somehow still restrained and not trying to escape Lady Clara's lap, perhaps due to the sheer force of authority she commands. She has sharp, severe features - the classic Aspenwood neutrality comes from her - and she looks like the sort of woman who has never done anything wrong in her entire life, ever. On her other side is another empty chair.

On the right side:

There is Lord Mordred Harbrooke, Mordecai's eldest still-living brother. He has dark brown hair, a thin pencil moustache, an ill-fitting suit, and an extremely punchable face. Just the most punchable face there is. He looks bored.

Next to him is the middle brother, Lord Gavin Harbrooke, a handsome redhead who lounges in his chair with an inappropriately irreverent slouch. His suit fits perfectly. He scans the audience as they enter, perhaps looking for someone. His wife, Lady Lucille "Lucy" Harbrooke, sits next to him with a radiant smile. Lucy is pink-cheeked, with chocolate brown hair and eyes, and she wears a pastel pink dress that is very frilly and a few years out of fashion. She is the only member of the Harbrooke family who looks absolutely elated to be there, and her excitement reads as genuine.

There are two empty chairs next to her, reserved for Mordecai's parents.

Lady Lavinia Harbrooke is near the front doors, selectively greeting the most wealthy-looking of the guests as they arrive - only people she recognizes, of course, so not most of Cobalt Company. She has dark brown hair with faint traces of grey at the roots, green eyes, and her dress is a dark cobalt blue with a high collar and long sweeping skirts.

The grooms wait in two separate alcoves. The semitransepts are separated from the main crossing of the nave with a heavy, opulent curtain each to form a chamber of some privacy. A few narrow windows allow daylight to illuminate the interior, and every so often a Cathedral acolyte glides solemnly in to ascertain the needs of the occupants. In the enclosed spaces, the odor of incense is better concentrated, although the windows allow entry to a skein of fresh air when the wind shifts. Any voices are heavily muffled by the hanging, although it takes but a gesture to tug back the barrier and peek out to the main hall.

Colson stands in a white and gold accented suit with his hands gently folded behind his back in his alcove, waiting for his cue patiently, a faint smile on his face. It will be some time to wait for the guests to assemble, and the announcement to make, but the paladin seems content to wait. There is no sense of nervousness to him, even as a few of the wedding assistants occasionally come to fuss over him, adjusting his coat once more, his hair, etc.

In the side room with Colson:

Seated in a chair directly next to the curtain is Lord William Aspenwood, a well-dressed grey-haired man with kindly blue eyes. He holds an intricately-carved wooden cane across his lap.

Fussing over Colson's suit and his hair is his twin, Lady Cressidha Aspenwood, in a pastel-blue dress. There really isn't much fussing left to do, but somehow she's managing. "Are you nervous?" she whispers to Colson. "Are you excited?"

Colson smiles gently, and places his hands over Cressidha's when they move to fuss with his suit again. "I am perfectly content, Cressidha. I am merely…" He inhales deeply, and exhales the breath in a calm, steady way. "Happy." There is a sense of deep sincerity to the words, as he leans forward to place a kiss on the top of her head. "And I can assure you, the lapel is straight and laying flat. The only thing that could possibly disturb it now is a falling sheep, and I am afraid my tailor left off my sheep hat for some unfathomable reason." There's the briefest, quickest of winks at Cress.

"I'm glad. I'll stop fussing, then." Cressidha beams at her brother. "I'm going to go take my seat." She takes Colson's hands and squeezes them once before making her way out through the curtain and through the crowd to her chair.

Oswald's ears perk up, and once Cressidha gets settled in her seat, Clara passes the cat over to Cressidha.

There is light music that plays throughout the arrival of guests, before the grooms are called to walk to the dais. A pleasant, light musical guitar and piano instrumental: https://youtu.be/qr2_WDs-3fM

At the dais, Ben Hazan steps up to take his place on the Aspenwood side.

He is dressed in a handsomely-tailored suit of dark blue; his waistcoat is of cream-colored silk embroidered with sky-blue wheat (representative of the Hazan element of the new Ference crest), and his cravat is a matching sky blue. His hair has been combed smoothly back for once and he is clean-shaven. Were it not for how supremely ill-at-ease he looks, he might be mistaken for any fine young city gentleman.

He shifts his weight, stretches his neck to one side, and visibly resists the urge to tug at his tie. He clasps his hands in front of him instead, and stares stoically up at one of the Cathedral windows, ignoring the gathering audience.

Oranna Stormbreaker is early. Not absurdly so, but well before the ceremony is slated to begin. No one happened to tell her that you don’t wear white to a human wedding, so she is wearing the first dress Cressidha ever made for her, a lovely lace and silk work that suits the hunter quite well. There is some initial muttering at the color, but the fact that it is clear she is dwarven, and therefore – “Well, you know how they can be sometimes,” – hushes the gossip train before it really gets going. She moves to stand where she is directed to, on the Aspenwood side. She waves cheerily to people she recognizes from Cobalt.

Arriving with Oranna, Bargrimm Flintspark is surprisingly unsmudged and not currently in the company of either wolf or bear. He is dressed in a hybrid fashion, in parts heavily Wildhammer-influenced but with a nod toward conventional Ironforge expectations of formality. As always, his left leg squeaks a bit as he follows the usher toward the seats, offering a quietly cheery nod toward anyone he recognizes.

Sandy, surprisingly, arrives fairly early, coming directly from his mother's house in the Cathedral district. He's wearing his usual ponytail, although it's clear that he got his hair cut before getting there, and his anchor beard is even more precisely cut then it usually is. He's wearing a very dark green tuxedo, with a black tie and a long, cape-like coat. He immediately goes to the side with the rest of the Cobalt Company members. He stares almost unblinkingly at the whole ceremony, misty-eyed. The warlock barely notices who comes in or out of the cathedral, unless they explicitly talk to him. Sandy also awkwardly holds a huge, colourful glass plate wrapped in gift paper, because he didn't get the memo of what to do with the wedding gift, and if anybody tries to tell him what to do with it, he just answers "oh okay", no matter what they said, and goes back to staring at the altar, either waiting for the grooms or watching the ceremony happening.

In the side room with Mordecai and Ismene:

Lord Samson Harbrooke, Mordecai's father, sits at one of the tables in the room on the right, tapping his fingers. Occasionally, he gets up and moves to the curtain, where he sneaks a quick glance out, before returning to his chair. He has greying red-orange hair with a well-kept beard, a suit that seems like it was made for a younger and slightly slimmer version of him, and piercing green eyes. His face is also extremely punchable.

Over where Mordecai waits, Mizzy is finishing her last-minute fussing. Y'know. Timey-wimey style, before she actually has to go stand on her side. She fusses a bit with the set of Mordecai's clothes, then says, "Now remember, this is all about you and Colson. If you get nervous, just look at him. He's very pretty, so that'll be pleasant for you. Oh, and hold his hand whenever you want because that's perfectly fine and it will hopefully make you feel better." She thinks a bit. "Everything else I can think of to say will only make you more nervous, because it would make me nervous so I won't. Also, you can look at me if you get nervous! I'll be there with an encouraging smile. Even though I'm not as pretty as Colson, and you should probably look at him. I hope the priest isn't too grim. Some of them can be so grim. All right. Are you ready? I think I have to go stand there all alone and pretend no one's staring at me."

The other groom of the day, Lord Mordecai Harbrooke, is dressed in a cobalt-blue suit with gold accents. He listens to Ismene ramble with a somewhat dazed expression, nodding absently. "Um. Thank you. Yes, um. Yes."

Ismene beams at Mordecai, would try for a quick peck on the cheek, then makes her curtsey to Lord Harbrooke before going to take her place. She is dressed in a gauzy tulle gown of several layers, the top of which is BLUE IGNORE THE PICTURE IT IS BLUE, light and frothy and decorated with a few scattered butterflies and daisies. Her bobbed brown hair has been pinned up, decorated with a small jeweled barrette of flowers. Around her neck is an apple locket, and on her ring finger is a tiny diamond that catches the light from time to time.

Ben's face lights up at Mizzy's appearance. He takes her in with a long, sweeping look of undisguised appreciation and smiles warmly, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

Now more at ease, he glances out toward the audience, perhaps in search of more familiar faces. He does not spot any, though, before the sheer size of the audience makes him turn hastily back toward Mizzy.

Mizzy smiles back at Ben, blushing a little. She sways just a bit, just enough to make her skirts swish. Under no circumstances does she look out at the crowd, and she's ready when Ben turns back to mouth silently at him, "I love you." Or possibly 'olive juice' which looks the same but wouldn't be as appropriate, so it's likely the former.

Gerhold Fauntleroy arrives in a shimmer of arcane excess, hair contained in a single complex braid and beard neatly trimmed. His clothes are leaning toward the deeper hues of blue, with a faint surface gleam of violet that seems to absorb the ambient light of the cathedral and shift it toward the purple end of the rainbow. Luminescent motes, likely inspired by recent exposure to the Zangarmarsh, shower out of the folds and creases of his cloak and robes, evaporating before they reach the floor. His staff, carried in hand as always, gleams with a cold, icy light as he ignores an usher and picks a seat on the Aspenwood side for himself. Anyone familiar with Cressidha’s needlework will absolutely recognize the cloak he’s wearing as her handiwork.

Torvald “GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER” Fauntleroy gleefully enters the Cathedral, a few minutes on the early side. His suit is a dark green, made of cheap cloth but tailored to him precisely by what one might say somehow seems to suggest an exasperated tailor who nevertheless refused to give up the challenge of making the material lay correctly on the tall and broad frame of the warrior. All the buttons of the suit jacket are missing, so it hangs open around him, but the bright smile on the man’s face detracts from most of it. He moves to stand in the far back of the Aspenwood side.

Dane Atley arrives in the cathedral square, faintly squinting in the sunlight. We wears a dark blue suit, one so dark it may be mistaken for black, tailored to accentuate (and just merely contain) his shoulders and arms. Some sort of pomade has even been pressed through his trimmed hair, creating smooth waves of chestnut and sun-tanned vanilla strands that lay slicked back against his head, making his squarish features more prominent. Even the spare whiskers on his beard and moustache have been trimmed and plied with wax, his beard and hair giving him the overall appearance of a very well-groomed lion, mane and all. He sets his jaw, and looks to the young woman on his arm. "Let's get at it," he growls, before marching up the steps. Being a head taller and wider than most of the wedding attendees, he stands out.

Ivri walks in on Dane's arm, wearing a deep blue silk dress under a delicate black lace that is far more ornamented on the bodice than on the skirt. The design of the lace strongly evokes a wrought-iron fence twined with ivy, without being directly representative of it. Her black hair is piled up in soft curls accented with jeweled stick pins that form tiny ivy leaves. Her eyes sparkle with hidden laughter, though at what or whom would be impossible to say.

Sil Silentstep arrives a few minutes early as well. He's wearing a tailored black suit with a burgundy necktie and vest. His brown hair, usually untidy, is carefully combed and secured in a small tie at the nape of his neck. Looking at ease, with a kind of subdued, long suffering expression in his eyes, he's making a good impression of 'wealthy gentleman' to those who don't know him. Walking into the cathedral, he glances around in obvious worry. Reassured by what he sees (or doesn't see), he takes a seat near the back and smiles towards those at the front the hall.

Azizia knows that trying to steal the spotlight from other people is wrong. But…

She enters the cathedral fairly early, a faint breeze following her. She's wearing a long, light purple (and not red), off-the shoulder dress with a slit that goes way above the knee on one side. She has a beautiful diamond necklace around her neck, and her hair is in an elegant bun, with two curly strands of hair falling on each side of her face. One quick glance at Azizia makes it fairly obvious that she is literally shining. Not only is the breeze summoned by an air elemental making her hair and dress stay in small, perpetual movement, but an invisible to the uninitiated's eyes water elemental makes it so that tiny ice crystals constantly float around her, reflecting the lights in a multitude of colors. Small rocks swirl around her wrist like a bracelet, and around her almost naked leg, floating around her ankle as well, are tiny flames. She enters, and stands with the rest of the Company, almost striking a pause putting in evidence her accessories. While the ceremony goes on, she thinks about all the favors she owes to the elementals for her outfit and how the next few weeks will be all about repaying said favors. "So worth it, though," she thinks.

Lena Coit enters the cathedral nervously. She's wearing a long sleeveless dress of pale rose-pink, with a plunging neckline accentuated by a worked butterfly pendant on a slim silver chain. Her blond hair is loose, held back on one side with a small silver barrette. After a moment of gaping at the beauty of the cathedral and the people within, she turns to smile at the woman accompanying her, stepping aside to allow her to enter.

Kenna Warrington is dressed like a knife, no two ways about it. A slim-cut grey dress sheathes her form, with matching gloves reaching to nearly the elbow. Her hair is pinned back in a low bun and she is clearly attempting to stifle an ever-so-mildly sarcastic smile as her eyes rake the interior, picking out familiar faces she has not seen in months.

Niris Ference glides in on the arm of her husband. She is dressed in a long gown of a deep, midnight blue; her usual plunging neckline does not plunge quite so far as usual, thanks to her pregnancy, which somewhat disrupts her favored sleek silhouette. In a further nod at maternal modesty, perhaps, the neckline is inset with lace, and the gown's long sleeves are of matching lace beneath draped shoulders.

She surveys the crowd with queenly dignity, nods and smiles at familiar faces in the audience, and takes her seat with Elohad only a few rows back on the Aspenwood side. She surveys the couple waiting on the dais and beams proudly at both.

Estel Herald definitely enters with the Ferences, whenever they do, and makes sure that both Niris and Elohad and herself get good seats. It's not like chairs are in short supply, but she has no qualms about parking herself in the second row and pointedly putting her messenger bag on a different seat until Niris is ready to sit down. She wears a white and blue dress, shorter in the front than in the back, with practical white flats (not heels) and no stockings.

A familiar scent touches Niris’ nose, and if she looks over her shoulder, she sees a formally-dressed dwarf who certainly wasn’t already seated when they were walking the aisle. Thaldor Foxglove, smelling of swiftthistle and without a single beard strand out of place, gives her and Lord Ference a friendly smile and nod, as if seeing a longtime friend after an extended absence. He’s dressed in a well-fitted black suit with a deep red cravat at his throat.

Niris blinks at Thaldor, and then offers him a smoothly polite smile. She turns back, her brows knit, and smooths her gown over her knees.

Jocoza Sparkwire enters the cathedral, perhaps unnoticed by those whose eyes are on a different level. She has, however, increased her height slightly with her hair, which is tied up in a braid that winds around her head like a crown. Small white flowers can be glimpsed here and there, interwoven. She's wearing an ankle length gown of deep blue, embroidered at the neckline and bottom with delicate white flowers, like lace.

She smiles as she comes in, waving at friendly faces, whether they see her or not. She claims a seat near the front of the cathedral, on the edge of an aisle, so that she can be sure no one will obstruct her view of the proceedings.

There is a brief… not commotion, exactly, but certainly a discussion from the entrance to the cathedral. Pericleia, a blue-skinned, blue-haired draenei in radiant golden armor, has a giant two-handed maul secured to her back and does not want to hand it over. Her common is also incredibly poor.

The translator at the front door, Lady Alaisa Lysander, does her very best to smooth things over, and eventually Pericleia makes her way through the crowd to stand on Colson's side of the room where the other members of Cobalt Company are. She has not been made to give up her maul.

Alaisa, dressed in a cream-colored dress with short sleeves and a long ruffled skirt, remains at the entrance to greet draenei and kaldorei guests in their own language and direct them to where to sit.

Remilea Monroe makes her way in, dressed in a pale blue, asymmetrical gown that would look Roman-inspired except what is Rome because game universe. The twin drapes of fabric that run from right shoulder to left hip are… rather strategically placed and would be quite shocking at times if Niris hadn't shown up first. Her brownish hair is contained behind a little headband of daisies that sparkle perhaps a bit more than they actually should. When she's asked to PICK A SIDE like this is some kind of volleyball game (except what is volleyball), she chooses the one with fewer people on it. Because polite. She doesn't appear to notice anyone in particular or greet anyone, but keeps a polite smile on her face and watches Ben and Mizzy, for lack of anyone or anything else to watch at the moment.

Ralaea Westwind arrives at the Cathedral early, dressed in a formal set of dark silver armor. She carries a single blade on her hip, contained in a black scabbard with silver accents. Rather than taking a seat, she stands at the back of the hall by the door, where she has a clear view of the entire audience and easy access to the entrance. She watches people enter and observes the ceremony, but maintains an air of distance, as if to announce to whoever should happen to glance at her that she is working.

There is one family present that is collectively less well-dressed than everyone else, in what are probably the best clothes they own for average farmers with an average amount of income. The entire Varley family, a man and a woman and their five now-adult children, excitedly talk amongst themselves in hushed voices. One of them, Lisibeth Varley, is dressed in armor, with Stormwind's crest on the tabard.

No doubt about it: Mordecai's side of the room is far less populated.

There is a hush that falls over the crowd by some unspoken accord as the music fades, and a priest enters from a side room to move to stand at the front of the cathedral aisle, in front of the dais. He gives Ben and Mizzy a nod. It has been over nine years since Colson and he first met, and time has been as kind as it might have been to Joseph, formerly a brother, and now a high ranking priest within the Church of the Holy Light. There is far more gray than blond in his hair now than there once was, and the lines around his eyes are deeper than before, but the hazel eyes still sparkle with vivacity and kindness. His back is perfectly straight as he folds his hands in front of him, giving the assembled people a moment to settle, before nodding deliberately to the musicians.

It takes only a moment for them to begin to play a soft, insistent beat that begins to rise with a flute and string melody. It is the cue that Colson has been waiting for. He looks to his father, and readies himself to walk out as the music begins to build to a crescendo that hits a peak as the couple emerge from their alcoves.

Music: "Magic of Love" - Two Steps from Hell https://youtu.be/t62B1EzTmDg (Couple emerges at 1:16, and walks to the rest at whatever speed they actually walk, with the band drawing out the music for as long as necessary)

Colson's entire expression goes soft as he sees Mordecai, and even those who would ordinarily find Colson a difficult read can see the smile that forms. It seems a subtle reaction to most, but for those who know him, he practically beams with happiness.

Lord William Aspenwood, at Colson's side, gives Colson a proud smile and then faces forward. His steps are slow and halting, and he leans heavily on his cane as he walks, favoring his left leg over his right. He seems reluctant to put much weight on his right leg at all, and this slows down the pace that they progress down the aisle.

In the alcove on the opposing side, the curtain parts, yanked aside by Lord Samson Harbrooke.

Mordecai is actually in the middle of stumbling a little, like he was pushed into position just in time. He seems to be in a daze, but as he catches sight of Colson across the way, his eyes shine with pure relief.

Samson Harbrooke takes his place at his son's side, walking out with dignity which quickly turns to impatience as the two of them are forced to slow down to match the pace of Lord William Aspenwood.

Mordecai is watching Colson the entire time, and he manages a quick, shy smile in Colson's direction.

Colson's eyes are soft as he smiles at Mordcai, as he and his father turn to proceed down the aisle. He walks perfectly matched to his father's pace, with no sense whatsoever that it is slower than he might ordinarily walk. There is the slightest turn of his head as he catches sight of Lord Samson Harbrooke's expression, and the paladin's lips thin briefly before he seems to force a neutral expression as he forces his attention forward to the priest.

There is a flash of recognition in Colson’s face as he catches sight of the older priest, and the paladin inhales a sharp breath, enough so that his father glances over, but it is clear from the look on Colson’s face that it is a quiet sort of joyful surprise. Father Joseph's own smile widens, ever so slightly inclining his head.

As the couple approaches, Colson moves to stand to the left, facing in profile to the assembled crowd.

Ben shuffles his feet a little, shifting to make way for Colson, and then shifting again to stand behind his shoulder. He is doing his best to look Very Solemn.

There is a murmur that rises as the couple walks. More than a few women, and not a small amount of men, sigh as the two grooms cross the cathedral.

"Light, are people allowed to be that pretty? I feel like it should be illegal," a young woman mutters to her companion, on the Harbrooke's side. She gives both men a snide sort of look. Her companion shrugs.

"Two men," an older gentleman on the Aspenwood side tuts. "Can't understand what the Aspenwoods were thinking." His companion, a woman who looks like she might have possibly been old enough to his grandmother, and was knitting booties for Anduin Lothar when he was a babe, smacks him on the arm not entirely gently. "Oh, quiet, you."

"I don't know, seems rather forward thinking, canny thinking, on Lord Aspenwood's part, if you ask me," a middle-aged man in military dress toward the back on the Aspewood side says aloud as Colson and Mordecai pass. "Fourth sons, both of them, and now Aspenwood's been spared the expense of another set of grandchildren to provide for. If I'd have thought of it, I'd have had my own youngest married off to a woman. She'd be having fewer babes, I expect."

"I heard it was a love match," a young noble woman on the Aspenwood side whispers not precisely quietly enough. She's close enough to the front that some of the Ferences might overhear her. "You can see it in their faces. Oh, this is just like an Elanor Steelbloom novel! Can you even imagine what they look like….together?" She puts a hand over her chest in a deep sigh.

"Can't believe they threw this together so quick," a young man mutters to himself toward the back of the Harbrooke side. "Feels like a shotgun wedding, but I ain't see how that'd be possible."

Gaakhed arrives almost too late to the ceremony, wearing a last minute, fairly simple tuxedo that may or may not be one size too small (it is). He got ready for the wedding with urgency, coming all the way from Kalimdor in a hurry. He joins the Cobalt Company as well, saying hello to the people he recognizes and trying to strike up conversation with the others while they wait for the ceremony. The whole time, he has a small smile on his face, while his eyes kind of look like he's taking note of everything happening around, analyzing how human weddings work.

The priest Joseph opens his arms in a gesture of benediction, his smile warm, his face full of the peaceful grace one might expect from a follower of the Light’s priesthood. His voice is a deep bass that manages to carry effortlessly through the cathedral as he addresses the assembled guests. “Welcome, all. Please, be seated,” he says, lowering both his hands in a gentle suggestion of the action, before stepping forward to within less than a foot of the couple. “We have gathered here to witness this union within the grace of the Light of two of its most faithful servants, Sir Colson Aspenwood, and Mordecai Harbrooke. Here on this sacred ground, these two have chosen to enter into a bond of their houses. In all things, we are guided by the glory of the Light, and that is never more true than for those who walk its path of service.”

Colson’s eyes go soft at the words, as he looks at Mordecai, a deep sense of peace settling over his face.

Mordecai manages a quick glance and smile at Ismene and a nod to the priest, but as he takes his place by the altar, his focus is entirely on Colson.

Mizzy winks quickly at Mordecai and smiles big and bright, before she moderates it to a smile more Socially Acceptable. Big smiles are not the done thing. She does a lot of looking at Ben, while keeping a weather eye on Mordecai (rhymes!) in case he looks like he's about to faint or bolt or both at the same time.

The fathers return to their chairs. Clara Aspenwood rises to take her husband's shoulder and help ease him into the seat. Lavinia Harbrooke, who has definitely sat down by now, just glances quickly at her own husband.

Cognitia Q. “Nish” Fizzthingle has had this dress for years. It doesn’t look or smell like the vault it was in, but there’s a sense of newness to the dress that doesn’t quite fit with the fact that the material had to have been sourced in the pre-Second War era, as it is clearly from a time when Alterac was at the height of its merchant state prowess. It’s a gold and pink ensemble that seems to have quite a lot of cloth for something that doesn’t seem to cover a whole lot of the pink haired gnome, except for the places that have to be for propriety's sake, and it seems to almost glow with an ethereal light. Her hair sparkles with glitter and gems on discreet pins, and her bright gold and pink lashes are likely visible from 20 yards away. She might have made more of a stir but for the fact that she sneaks into place as the grooms have already made their way down the aisle, and no one except those in the row she stands in the back notices the gnome. She’s taken the aisle place, in the furthest row, on the Harbrooke’s side, for optimal viewing of all the hotties, cuties, and sweeties of the wedding.

“All things that seek it, find salvation and acceptance with the Light,” the priest continues, smiling beatifically at the couple. “To live in its glory, and extend that love, that compassion, and that patience to another, is to serve the Light as much as vanquishing evil and protecting the innocent. In many ways, all facets of the Light are manifestations of love, for what would we not do for those we love? The Light is with us, when we love our fellow mortals, and when we choose to live our life in service to that love.”

There is a flicker of something in Colson’s face, but it is so brief that it would be difficult for anyone to catch more than a sense of something, before he covers it with a soft, faint smile.

The priest turns to Colson, moving his hand out in a blessing that settles over the paladin with a warm glow of Light. He holds out his hand for Colson to place his own in, which the paladin does without looking; his gaze is locked onto Mordecai’s, the smile still subtly curving his lips. The priest moves Colson’s hand closer to Mordecai, and intones with a solemn, slow cadence, “In the eyes of all assembled, do you, Colson Aspenwood, vow to take this man, Mordecai Harbrooke, as your lawfully wedded husband, and to cherish, to respect, to defend, and to honor him throughout all his days?”

“I do,” Colson says, his voice strong and ringing with clarity that carries throughout the Cathedral as he stares into Mordecai’s eyes. There is the very faintest sense of the Light around him, something that sets his hair almost ablaze in the brighter light shining in through the windows. His cheeks have gone a soft pink, and anyone looking particularly closely would see his blue eyes have filled with some strong emotion that he has only just barely kept enough under control to seem ambiguous to that feeling’s exact nature.

Mordecai stares at Colson. The priest seems to be saying words. Those might be important. He should probably be listening to them. Mordecai looks at Colson the way he did when Colson first returned from Outland, like he is having a wonderful dream and everything is too good to be true.

It is very fortunate that Father Joseph chose Colson to ask first, because if not, Mordecai would have absolutely missed his cue.

Colson saying I do certainly catches his attention very effectively.

The priest repeats the blessing for the chaplain, holding out his hand for Mordecai’s hand, patiently waiting for the young man to respond before he continues.

“In the eyes of all assembled, do you, Mordecai Harbrooke, vow to take this man, Colson Aspenwood, as your lawfully wedded husband, and to cherish, to respect, to defend, and to honor him throughout all his days?”

He extends a hand obediently towards the priest on cue, but he doesn't take his eyes off Colson.

"I do," Mordecai says, just loud enough to be heard in at least the closer half of the cathedral.

The priest coaxes Mordecai’s hand to place on top of Colson’s, covering their hands with his own in a gentle embrace. “Then, with the grace and authority of the Light, with all assembled as witnesses, may you be united as one.” He closes his eyes and lets the moment settle in the silence, before he opens them and declares, “I hereby announce that henceforth, these two have been wed. May all welcome Colson and Mordecai Aspenwood, newly united within the Light’s grace.” The priest releases his hold on the couple’s hands, and steps back a pace. He smiles widely at them both, and says, in a low tone not intended to carry beyond the dais. “May I be the first to congratulate you both on your marriage. Light be with you.”

At the words, Colson’s hands move to hold Mordecai’s in a gentle cradle of his own, as he steps in closer to the chaplain, well within personal space, no more than perhaps a full hand breadth between them. His smile grows into something bright, and he searches Mordecai’s eyes for something.

As Colson takes his hands, Mordecai's shy smile turns into a full-on grin. He looks innocently and uncomplicatedly happy, like he is exactly where he wants to be.

He hasn't acknowledged the crowd even once, but he is doing an incredible job of giving off the impression that he is marrying for love, not just out of duty, to anyone who is at least a little bit less selectively oblivious than Colson.

Ismene relaxes just a fraction as Mordecai answers in the affirmative. No sprinting will be necessary, even if she did wear flat slippers so she could at need.

Ben grins involuntarily at the conclusion of the vows. He glances across at Mizzy and winks. And then he realizes that may be Inappropriate at Noble Wedding and straightens again self-consciously. He does not pull at his tie. He visibly and obviously does not pull at his tie. He really wants to pull at his tie.

Ismene sighs happily and would put her fists under her chin if it were seemly. It is not. But she does transfer her dazzled smile to Ben. Still dazzled.

"Oh, just kiss already!" The young noblewoman from before says, loudly enough to be overheard by at least the front part of the Cathedral. At the sound of it, Colson's shoulders freeze, and his expression arrests somewhat in a moment of hesitation.

Mizzy looks nervous at the demand for a kiss, and watches Mordecai anxiously (even though technically he's no longer her charge, he's Colson's)

Colson moves a hand to Mordecai's shoulder, turning the other man ever so slightly, as Colson steps and turns his back to most of the assembled wedding guests. From their perspective, all they can see is Colson's broad shoulders and golden hair blocking their view as he leans in toward Mordecai…

…to place a soft kiss on Mordecai's cheek. His lips barely brush against the other man's skin, but seem to linger longer than strictly necessary to qualify as a 'peck' on the cheek, and Colson sighs as he leans back away.

Mordecai blinks, goes bright red, and quickly kisses Colson's other cheek, because maybe that's what he's supposed to do now? Maybe?

His eyes flick between Colson and Ismene for some sort of indication that he did the right thing.

Ismene smiles encouragingly and gives a tiny nod of her head.

Ben looks politely away from the smoochin'. Hey that window's nice. Again.

Colson's face breaks out into a wide, bright smile that briefly flashes his teeth. He lowers his voice to a murmur, still keeping his face away from the crowd. "Almost done. You're doing wonderfully." His hand is very warm on Mordecai's shoulder. "Come, we have to lead the way into the room for the food."

During the ceremony, Gavin Harbrooke spends more time watching the crowd than he does the couple, while his wife Lucy dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief and beams at Mordecai and Colson the whole time.

Dane looks furious, but what else is new? Anyone who knows him could see a light of approval and appreciation in his bright green eyes for the scene laid out before him as he and Ivri sit on the Aspenwood side, his shoulders more than likely blocking the view of those who have the unfortunate burden of sitting behind him.

Ivri spends the entire ceremony whispering things into Dane's ear. Are they observations on the crowd? Discussions about the fashions? A retrospective of Colson and Mordecai? Only Dane knows.

Dane responds with a single hand on her thigh and a brief, but slow kiss to her cheek before turning back to glare at the ceremony.

Kenna turns back in her seat at the immediate moment of the cheek-kiss and winks directly at Ivri.

Ivri's hand twitches toward her hair.

Dane's eyes lock onto Kenna, and he slowly leans back in his seat, the bench creaking underneath him. He deadpans the woman, and the only thing shaking him from the death stare is the cry from the front. He suddenly remembers that he's in a cathedral and not on a battlefield, and shifts his gaze, doing his best to behave.

Perhaps sensing a shift in the mood of the ceremony, Oswald tries to break free. Cressidha does not allow her cat to break free. "The carrier," she whispers to her mother. Clara Aspenwood produces a cream-colored cat carrier, the front grate of which is threaded with decorative white ribbon for the occasion, and helps get Oswald into there.

Colson turns to the crowd, inclining his head in a way that can only be described as faintly regally, before gently coaxing Mordecai along with their still joined hands, leading the guests into the other room, prepared with cake and food of various, non-specific types because that was too much to worry about.

A large antechamber on the northeast side of the cathedral leads between the garden grounds and the main hall. Tall windows fill the white stone room with only slightly less radiance than the nave, and long padded pews line opposite sides of the interior, allowing for seating options to anyone uncomfortable standing. A number of servers orbit the assembled guests inside, their footfalls light as they carry trays of appetizers and beverages to any in need. It is dominated, however, by a long table, arranged centrally transverse to the length of the space and covered with a sheer white cloth, golden embroidery edging its perimeter. In the middle of the table lies –
The Cake.

Colson leads the way into the room, striding confidently to the table, where the official cake for the wedded couple is.

The Cake is a three-tiered angel food cake, the middle tier of which features a Victoria sponge-style coffee layer. There is vanilla frosting, there are chocolate shavings, and the cake is decorated with sugar flowers - dreaming glory, for anyone familiar with Outland flora.

On the very top of the cake is a single beautifully done sugar flower rendition of what is unmistakably the plant mountain silversage.

Mordecai has not let go of Colson's hand since the ceremony.

As Colson spots the mountain silversage on the top of the cake, he bursts into a brief, but full laugh. His face lights up, looking suddenly years younger, as he throws his head back. The laugh is over quickly, but he can't stop a few more chuckles, as he nudges Mordecai very slightly with a shoulder, and says in a low voice to his husband, "Someone at Boughs and Doughs is very clever."

For some reason, Mordecai goes bright red at this comment. He smiles and ducks his head, shy.

Ben waited courteously for the grooms to step down from the dais, and then for Mizzy because Ladies First, and then he put a hand on the small of her back to escort her into Cake Room like a Dignified Husband. He does not tug at his tie even once.

Ismene refrains from giggling at Ben, but only just. "I'll tell you when you can take off the tie," she promises as she looks up, eyes shining at him. "You look so handsome. Maybe I should ask you to wear formal suits every day."

Ben gives Mizzy a look of puppy dismay.

That makes Ismene giggle and she nudges him with her shoulder.

Kit, clad in a dress uniform but not her armor, is only too happy to escape into the Cake Room. Because Cake. Little will be said of Kit, except she was there and she would've asked Fionette to go with her, and Fi would probably wear an incredible gown because she can do that and Kit would be gooey eyed at her for the entire day.

Dane nudges Ivrianna and stands, joining the crowd at a moderate pace to get to the cake room. He doesn't require a second summoning to act on the opportunity for food.

Ivri rises when Dane does, murmuring to him, "Now remember, if you mess up this suit I'll make you get fitted for another one the next time we have to go somewhere fancy."

"Mess it up?" Dane growls with a scoff. "I'd never. Look at how bloody pretty I am," he says with a stern straight face.

Ivri's laughter is low and soft. "Thank you for making it through the ceremony," she says. "Maybe we should have a casual wedding. My brothers would appreciate it, though my father might not."

His hand tastefully remains on her lower back, and he gives her a few pats. “One wedding at a time, love. Wager I’ll need a few weeks to come back from this sugar for wot’ it’s worth.”

Estel, entering the room, also cracks up laughing when she sees the cake. "Niris, look!"

Niris, who has been bustling determinedly behind Estel because of Cake, and sort of towing Elohad with her, beams rapturously at the sight of the cake. "Oh, how clever. What is that little sugar flower? I don't know it." She peers.

Kenna smirks over at Lena as she rises. "Cake sounds so … appropriate somehow. Want to go see if we can be Normal People for a moment?"

Lena laughs lightly, and says, "Yes, let's do. Though don't expect me to make anything so fancy at home. And I don't think Ivri'd start anything at a wedding, but let's… not test that too much?"

Oranna enters the room with Bargrimm, and takes a place as close to her Cobalt friends as possible. When she sees Kenna, there's a shock of recognition and surprise before she raises a hand, trying to catch Kenna and Lena's attention, waving them over toward the table the Stormbreakers have ended up at.

When Oranna notes them and waves them over, Lena asks Kenna, "…is she a friend?"

Kenna actually looks mildly uneasy. "She was. For a little. I guess we'll find out?"

Lena nods, and leads the way over to the Stormbreaker table.

There is a very correct and appropriate set up for the couple to cut into the cake, and while in some traditions there would be an awkward couple joint cutting into the cake to make a very weird incision, instead it is Colson who slices a piece for Mordecai — it is an exacting correct amount, as though there were some pre-measured line on the cake, except that it is clear that the nobleman simple knows what precise amount is correct — placing it on a very fine dish with a graceful hand. He sets the cake in front of Mordecai, where a fork place setting already is on the tablecloth, and waits expectantly for Mordecai to cut him a piece, glancing between the tiers in a way that suggests it's unclear exactly what he wants more, before his eyes seem to longer on the top most, where the dreaming glory sugar petals are artfully scattered.

As the guests are assembled into the room, the band begins playing in the background, a soft song: "Sanctuary" - Secret Garden https://youtu.be/JYZb-E8aUq8

Mordecai wipes his sweaty palms on his suit jacket. He takes the knife and cuts Colson an appropriately-sized slice of cake from the top tier. His hands are very steady, but his expression is nervous again.

Colson takes the piece, and seems to hesitate ever so slightly, glancing over at his family. Well. At least he doesn't have to say anything today. After all, whether or not one enjoys sweets, it is proper to eat one's cake at one's wedding. He genteelly cuts into his slice with the fork, a very reasonable bite, that doesn't yet have any of the sugared flower petals on it, and places it in his mouth in a way that suggests he is entirely prepared to be polite about it no matter the taste.

Instead, his expression goes through several flickers of emotion, brief and faint, but several stand out in particular: pleasure and surprise. He chews carefully, swallows, and takes another bite in a way that looks very much like someone thinking, 'did I imagine that or — ?' as he repeats the process. The surprise is gone, replaced by a surety that brings a half-smile to his face, as he turns to look at Mordecai in an appraising way, something terribly soft in his eyes, as though Mordecai has done something infinitely precious. Colson leans in so close to Mordecai that their shoulders brush against each other, his voice a low purr of his usual mid-range baritone, clearly not intended to carry beyond the couple. "Mordecai? Did you…did you make the cake?"

Mordecai picks up his own plate. He nods, the most tiny of nods. "Do you like it?" His voice is also very quiet.

Colson smiles, and his hand moves to touch Mordecai's, in a clear reflex motion. "It's perfect. Everything you do — ah, bake — is perfect. It always tastes exactly as I would wish it to." There's something in his expression before he ducks his head, a streak of red across his cheeks, as he clearly wars with eating his cake too quickly.

Mordecai mumbles something like, "I'm glad you like it," and pretends to be very interested in eating his own cake.

It really is a very delicious cake. You would never know just by tasting it that it was made with ravager egg whites, straight from Outland.

The Cake TM is served. Somewhere, in Outland, Chef Gaston sheds a single, happy tear.

There's a shout of "CAKE!" from somewhere in the crowd: six-year-old Arnie, Colson's nephew.

Sandy sits at a table with other members of the company, still a bit too 'starstruck' to have a full conversation, only giving small answers to everything he's told. At the exact same time as Arnie shouts "CAKE!", Sandy whispers "Cake!".

Nish blinks her way into the room, and finds a spot next to either Jo or Gerhold, whoever seems to have the most room at their table, and when she gets a piece of cake, seems to spend a Very Long time eating it, as though analyzing the nuances of it. "What the heck?" she mutters from time to time, as though she can't quite figure out what the ingredients must be for it to taste exactly the way it does.

Jo is totally at a table enjoying and analyzing the cake, and would probably have room at her table.

Torvald has disappeared from the ceremony. Perhaps he saw something shiny?

Oranna takes a few bites of hers, but doesn't finish it. She makes polite conversation with most of the Cobalt folk around her.

Oranna does what she can to make direct eye contact with Ivri, and if she's in range, says in a low voice not meant to carry too far, "Let it lie, lass. Jus' let it lie. It's a nice day, dinna turn it ta somethin' it doesna ha' ta be. She's no' doin' any harm."

"She doesn't make any moves," Dane grunts. "Nor will we. S'a fine day. T'd be a shame to spoil it with any bloodshed." His gaze drifts away and settles on the cake.

"Aye, jus' so," Oranna says to Dane, smiling warmly at him. Oranna turns the smile to Lena and Kenna as the approach, gesturing for them to sit within range of the Stormbreakers. "Hello, lass," she says to Kenna, her face a beacon of welcome, with no wariness in her expression whatsoever. "Good ta see ye lookin' so well. An' yer lass, there." It is absolutely clear that Oranna believes the two women to be a couple.

Ivri, where Dane can hear and Oranna might, murmurs, "It's not like poisoned hair ornaments make a big mess anyway, you know."

Lena glances to Kenna, not entirely sure how to respond to this.

Kenna smiles at Oranna. "Of course. It's too nice a day for trouble, isn't it? I assume you know Lena; we're roommates currently."

Lena moves and takes one of the offered chairs with her plate of cake (which I assume they have acquired in the meantime), and tilts her head slightly to invite Kenna to sit next to her.

Turning back to Oranna, she says, "I'm in Cobalt—joined a few months back. I'm afraid I don't know all the folks yet. Or even as many as Kenna does, seems like."

"It's good ta meet ye," Oranna says genuinely to Lena, with a bright smile. "Oranna, Oranna Stormbreaker. An' this is my fiance, Bargrimm." She nods from Bargrimm to Kenna. "This is…oh." She stops as though unsure of Kenna's name.
Lena pauses, forkful of cake halfway to her mouth, and raises a curious eyebrow at Oranna's confusion. "She's Kenna. My roommate Kenna. I thought you knew one another?"

"Aye. Kenna, yup. Tha' is…her name. Mmhm," Oranna says awkwardly, and quickly covers it up with more cake that she doesn't seem to be enjoying. "That's wha' we call her, aye," she adds as though she can't help herself, and winces. "So, ye're roommates!" She turns to Bargrimm, and her mouth falls open in an oh! expression. "They were roommates."

Oswald is CONTAINED. He is CAGED. He is CONFINED. Free him.

Clara Aspenwood sets the cat carrier on one of the tables and her son Bertrand pulls out a chair for her, then one for his fiancée, then one for his father before finally sitting down himself.

Cressidha mingles, wandering between groups of people she recognizes and greeting them. She keeps an eye out for Elohad, who is getting a hug whenever she locates him.

Ben, who has been seated beside Colson at the wedding party’s table, gets to his feet. He has abandoned his elegant suit jacket, which is now draped over the back of his chair, but still wears his embroidered blue-and-white waistcoat. The sleeves of his fine white shirt have been rolled up, revealing a glimpse of clean white bandage around his left forearm.

In his left hand he holds a square of paper. With his right, he tugs (finally!!!) at the knot of his cravat, loosening it, and then reaches for the glass of wine in front of him. He clears his throat, surveying the crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen, respected guests — if I can get your attention a minute?”

Dane nudges Ivrianna and looks over to Ben with some dry amusement dancing in his eyes as he peers at the younger man. He tilts his head back and forth, audibly cracking his neck before up-nodding at Ben from his table.

Colson looks up at Ben with a soft smile. Under the table, perhaps where people might not notice, he has a gentle hold on Mordecai's hand.

His ears red, Ben clears his throat again and glances down at the paper in his left hand, then looks up at the assembly. When he begins to speak, he is only slightly stilted, and doing his best careful Diction. It is clear to anyone who knows him that he’s spent a serious amount of time rehearsing this.

“I expect most of you do not know me. I am Lord Bennarin Hazan of House Ference, and, like Colson, a lieutenant of Cobalt Company. I know that we have a lot of great and honorable men here this afternoon, but I would like to point out that of all of them, Colson decided I am the ‘best’ man. His call. I am just sayin’.”

He flashes a boyish, chipped-tooth grin, the full Ben Charm™, and then glances down at his paper again, possibly so as not to see reactions.

Sil chuckles, in the audience.

Colson moves a hand to hide a smile at Ben, his eyes dancing in amusement before he can muster a necessary Grave and Serious Deadpan nod in support.

Estel, whether she can tell Ben is nervous or not, makes a fantastic audience member nonetheless. She laughs at all the jokes he makes, occasionally inspiring the crowd around her to do the same.

Ben continues. “I have known Colson Aspenwood for only a few months, but I reckon I know him about as well as I do any man by this point. You learn a lot about a fellow when you fight beside him, and Colson is not just a brother in arms but like an actual brother to me. He is a proper servant of the Light and everything a gentleman ought to be: he never does anything by half, and as much dedicated as he is to his duty, he has never let it get in the way of his humanity, ne – either.”

He glances up, clears his throat awkwardly, and glances down at the paper.

“It was my honor to stand up today with Colson and his new husband. Whatever Colson does, he does it wholehearted, and I know marriage will not be an exception. I wish him and Mordecai many happy years together.”

(He kind of races through this last paragraph. It is clear he’s near the end and really wants to sit down.)

He raises his glass to the assembly. “To Colson and Mordecai Aspenwood.”

Mordecai is nodding along with all the nice things Ben has to say about Colson right up until the toast, at which point he realizes people will be looking at them again and ducks his head, blushing.

Colson's eyes shine with a brightness, his face glowing (not literally) with a wide smile and soft eyes. Under the table, he has squeezed Mordecai's hand, clearly in reflex, not hard, when Ben mentions the marriage. He seems particularly happy, even as his cheeks burn with a brighter red. As Ben sits, he leans slightly in the other man's direction and says in a voice not intended to carry beyond the table, "Thank you, Ben." His voice rings with sincerity, and he leans back to accept the toast gracefully.

Mizzy is just as proud as anything of Ben. She looks around to make sure everyone sees how handsome and kind and wonderful he is.
Ben does not chug his wine, because One Does Not, but he drinks about as swiftly as one can drink wine — yes, the entire glass — and then sits down hastily. He tries not to look relieved. No one will believe it.

He gives Colson a sidelong grin, his ears still red, and then nods respectfully past him to Mordecai.

Mordecai mumbles, "Thank you," to Ben. "That, um, that was a good speech."

Ismene hides her whisper behind a sip of wine as she says to Mordecai, "Want me to give a speech about you?" There is absolutely a teasing lilt to her voice.

Mordecai sinks down a few inches in his seat. "No, um, no thank you, you don't have to."

Dane scoffs with amusement at Ben's early joke and growls, before raising his drink. "Hear hear." He takes a hearty swig and lays an arm around Ivrianna, as if to keep her contained.

Gaakhed and Azizia sit together at the same table with a few other Draenei, near Estel's table. Well, Azizia doesn't actually sit at the table, but rather leans back on the table (you can't see her fire ankle bracelet if her legs are under the table, right?) The Draenei around that table seem to have a lot of fun, with Gaakhed being extremely noisy and speaking at full volume. They listen to Ben's speech, Gaakhed laughs loudly at the jokes, sometimes inspired by Estel's laughter, sometimes not. Gaakhed goes to pick up cake for the whole table. He eats most of his slice, while Azizia eats hers and finishes his, thanking the Light that this is not cheesecake.

Estel gets another slice of cake. Supposedly she's saving it for a friend. Supposedly.

She does actually avoid eating this one.

Ralaea is one of the last to enter the cake room, first making sure that everyone safely evacuates the previous room and that no one needs assistance or is trampled. You never know, it is cake. On the way, she makes eye contact with a priestess, staring out from a different room. Possibly making ready to clean up? For some reason, the woman’s gaze sends a chill down Ralaea’s spine. The priestess offers a sweet smile, then vanishes into another room. Inside the cake room, Ralaea once again takes up a position by the doorway where she can observe everyone, though Ben’s speech does consume her entire attention for its duration. When he is finished, she finally remembers to breathe. She makes no move towards the cake, content to do only what she has made into her duty.

Sandy stares at Colson and Mordecai during the cake cutting, then stares at Ben during his speech, still with tears in his eyes. His shine gets brighter as the ceremony goes on. As he goes to get his slice of cake, he goes to Mordecai and Colson's table and finally drops the wedding present there, mumbling something incomprehensible, his voice shaky and his smile as bright as ever.

Colson smiles gently at Sandy, moving to accept the gift. An usher comes forward almost immediately, to take it from the groom. "Thank you, Sandy," Colson says in a mild voice. "It is good to see you." His voice goes gentle. "Have you had the cake yet?"

Sandy gets this close to sprinting after the wedding present thief, but realizes that no, this is normal, this is just the fate of wedding presents. He nods at Colson. "No. But it's delicious. I mean it will be. It is. I'm so proud of everyone!" he chuckles happily and leaves the conversation at that, moving towards the cake.

Colson's eyes are soft as he looks from Sandy to Mordecai. "Yes, it is," he agrees about the cake.

Mordecai mumbles a polite thank you to Sandy, looking curiously at the wedding present as it is spirited away.

A mild breeze skims across the wide porch elevated off the exterior of the Cathedral, fluttering sheet music pages clipped to a series of thin stands. Arranged in a half-ellipse near a concave corner, where the exterior wall will amplify the sound back over the smooth stone surface, a number of musicians prepare their instruments and adjust their clothing, ensuring their appearance will grow only minimally disheveled over the course of performance. Sheltered out of direct sunlight for the comfort of orchestra and dancer alike, this broad area serves as a sort of promenade overlooking the Cathedral grounds. Perfume from a variety of flowering blooms pervades the immediate area, and the conductor inhales deeply, scanning the approaches for anyone signaling the arrival of guests.

As the couple walks out for a ceremonial First Dance, the band begins to strike up the introductory notes of a traditional Azerothian dance from long before the Dark Portal ever opened. Colson looks at Mordecai with a hint of concern, leaning in to murmur, "The Stormwind Allemande. Do you know it, or should I ask them to alter it? It's a favorite of mine, but I…Forgive me, I forgot to…I should have ensured you would know it." He searches Mordecai's face with no small amount of chagrin and concern in equal amounts.

It is not a simple dance. It is highly choreographed, with a lot of movement. Originally intended as a dance that involves four couple switching places at least twice, there is additionally a formal single set version that requires the couple to take a wide circle around the room, moving together in perfect synchronicity to avoid tumbling. Colson looks as though he is ready and willing to dash to the musicians and request a simple Lordareon Waltz, if necessary, even if the long, stately dance would force the couple to remain in full view of the assembled for quite some time.

Mordecai looks momentarily puzzled. "No, I-I know it. Did you pick the music? I thought Mother would have…"

He takes a deep breath. "I practiced, to, to dance with your sister one day. I had lessons," he says quickly to Colson, as if he needs to finish justifying himself and how he does in fact know the dance before the musical cue for the two of them to begin. (edited)

Colson turns to face Mordecai, blocking the other man's view of the crowd as much as he is able, while the opening notes draw out, as the band waits for the couple to approach the dance floor of beautifully constructed wooden panels. "My lead, or yours?" He says quickly, but gently, and anyone looking at his body language would believe that this is a man with no sense of urgency to him, as though he could and would stay there all day waiting for Mordecai's decision, band playing or no.

Mordecai flushes. This is one of those things that they should definitely have practiced during the rehearsal. He stares at Colson, trying to rapidly determine which role Colson wants to take in the dance. Despite all past reassurance about there being no right or wrong answers, he is clearly having a moment (as he tends to do) where he believes there is a right and a wrong answer and he has only seconds to guess correctly.

"Yours?" Mordecai suggests.

Colson nods. "As you wish," he says softly.

As the couple prepares, an usher moves forward unobtrusively, ready to take the outer coats of the two grooms. Colson removes his outer jacket, showcasing the beautiful gold and white vest, and hands the garment to the usher with a murmured "Thank you."

The shirt is perfectly tailored to him, revealing that his shoulders are truly that broad, and his jacket was not even slightly padded to fill out his silhouette. When it is clear Mordecai is ready, either in his suit jacket or without it, Colson steps backward in a graceful motion.

Colson bows to Mordecai in a perfectly elegant dancing bow before straightening and stepping into the other man's arms, placing his right hand on Mordecai's waist, and holds out his left hand cupped in a soft, graceful arch, ready to hold Mordecai's, preparing to take the lead.

Mordecai absolutely misses the cue to take his coat off because the music is already playing and he is going to have to dance like RIGHT NOW.

He steps in to take Colson's hand and rest his other hand on Colson's shoulder. This is fine. They are going to dance and it will be fine. This is fine.

Colson closes the distance even more, putting his cheek so close to Mordecai's that the other man can probably feel the heat of his skin, feel Colson's chest brushing against his own, and smell the orange and bergamot scent Colson uses. His voice is soft as he says, "Do not pay any mind to them. It is just you, and me. I am right here. You're safe. I have you," he says, and there's something in his voice that holds the faintest breathlessness to it, as though they've already begun moving, despite the fact that they haven't started yet to move. He moves back, and when the music circles back around to where the cue can begin, leads with an assertive step into the dance.

"I know," Mordecai whispers, and he seems to gather his composure and steel himself.

The music playing, roughly give or take, just for kicks of added drama: "In The End" - Marcus Warner https://youtu.be/gH2d9dV_x04
-Couple begins dancing at 1:25
-Couple dancing ends around 4:29

The dance the couple performs (skip to at least :30 for the dancing part), making two or three rounds of the main dance that starts at 1:25. https://youtu.be/zgRQJxiA2L8 Colson is the lead (the man in the white shirt, black vest).

Colson is a strong lead, moving gracefully across the floor, adjusting his motions in a dozen small ways as he moves with Mordecai, compensating for any small hitches of hesitation where muscle memory or inexperience with a partner of equal height has caused slight disturbances in the steps. As he dances, his face breaks into a wide grin, revealing the ever-so-slightly crooked incisor to the left of his front teeth, and his face is flushed far more than the dance should have made it — it's clear, as they dance, that he is not even remotely out of breath, or taxed by the motions.

Anyone very familiar with the dance would recognize that Colson has pressed closer, and closer as the dance goes on. Someone might assume it is only to assist in controlling the dance, allowing Mordecai more cues to work with for the dancing motions, but someone else might notice how Colson's eyes have not moved off Mordecai's own since they began, and he seems utterly oblivious to the existence of anyone else in the world.

Mordecai knows this dance. He follows along with a look of intense concentration, his steps initially unsure and then more certain. He takes his eyes off Colson only once, during a twirl, where he manages to catch a glimpse of the crowd and stumbles a tiny bit, but Colson keeps the two of them from losing momentum.

Mordecai never once relaxes, but he doesn't seem afraid - he is just concentrating very intently. The steel in his spine is back; this is the Mordecai who works in an infirmary and knows exactly what he's doing. He knows the steps. He just has to follow them.

As the dance concludes, Colson brings them back to where they began. The music winds down, but the paladin does not step away. In fact, there seems to be something a little odd about the blond haired groom, and the musicians glance among themselves as they draw out the music again. The couple should be leaving the floor for the next one to begin. Colson isn't moving.

Mordecai blinks rapidly at Colson, having run out of steps to dance and music to dance to. They're supposed to take a bow and leave the dance floor now, right? Why isn't Colson moving?

Colson is, instead, staring rather intently at Mordecai, and is pressed so closely that his chest rests against the other man's. The dance was brisk, and involved, and so one might assume that the paladin is out of breath from it, except for the fact that his breathing has increased significantly since the couple has stopped dancing, and his heartbeat is beating hard enough that it's possible even through the formalwear that Mordecai can feel it. There's something in Colson's expression that seems entirely at odds with how the paladin has looked all this time — something adjacent to fear, even as his eyes seem strangely warm, his brows drawing inward in an expression of not-quite-pain. His blue eyes move from each of Mordecai's own, as his hand on Mordecai's back trails several inches down in a hot line along the other man's spine, his thumb brushing gently up and down.

He doesn't say anything, but he opens his mouth and a word seems to form on his lips, just a simple, oh. There is a helplessness in his eyes for a moment before he closes them, and tries to tuck it behind a Neutral Face.

"Colson," Mordecai whispers, attempting to prompt him into action again. "Colson, the dance is over." Colson has helped him time and time again when he's frozen up, and it feels like the very least Mordecai can do to attempt to return the favor.

Colson’s hand spasms slightly and he inhales sharply as at the sound of Mordecai's voice he seems to remember, oh, yes, people exist. He steps away from Mordecai as though forcibly dragging himself backward, and bows correctly. For the first time since the ceremony has begun, he seems to be actively avoiding Mordecai's gaze, even as he reaches out a proper hand to escort Mordecai from the dance floor.

Mordecai steps back and executes the appropriate bow, then accepts Colson's hand and takes the lead in walking the two of them off of the dance floor.

Once again, Sandy, completely moved, stares at the couple dancing, and lets out a happy, shaky, very loud gasp. He's so emotional about this whole ceremony, one might believe he's the extremely young-looking father of one of the grooms.

The next dance music begins, a Lordaeron Reel, meant for people who enjoy overly complicated spinning and partner swapping, with step shifts, clapping, and at one point, genteel stomping.

Colson approaches Cressidha for the dance. He seems to be ruthlessly suppressing some sort of feeling, and there's a silent plea in his eyes as he holds out a hand to his sister to please not ask why, not yet.

Cress gets to her feet, pushing in her chair, and takes Colson's hand. "Shall we?" She shoots a quick be good look at Oswald in the cat carrier.

Colson dances gracefully, in perfect sync with Cressidha, even though it seems that there is far less emotional resonance occurring during this reel. His expression is shuttered, a Neutral Mask in place so hard that he looks blank to most people. To those who can read him, it's clear Something has happened.

(Oswald is going to cause problems on purpose later. He will have his revenge. He is currently trying to chew on the ribbons woven into the grating of the crate.)

Smiling, she walks with Colson back onto the dance floor. She is - probably to nobody's surprise - a good dancer.

Music: "The Captain's Dance" by Marcus Warner https://youtu.be/Wl35ryoicLY

When the music begins, Oranna tugs on Bargrimm's arm. "Oh! We know this one, don't we?" She says, as she pulls him to the dance floor. They seem to use other flourishes than the other dancers, some Wildhammer spin on the reel, and they both look in expectation for someone to actually break a glass at a proper moment — which no one does, because Nobility Wedding, but shrug good naturedly.

During dance number two, six-year-old Arnie manages to find another child of comparable age to himself in the crowd, and the two of them make it up on the dance floor, hopping around and bouncing and wiggling like little kids who have definitely not learned the real dance itself yet. Their parents permit this because it is a wedding and the two of them are too young for it to be considered improper.

Once the other dances begin, however, Sandy's mood shifts completely. He gleefully joins the other dancers, switching dance partners as the dances require. He's an exceptional dancer.

At the beginning of the second dance, Lena recognizes the tune and her eyes light up. She makes her way to the edge of the dance floor and looks available until a random man who looks sufficiently rich asks her to dance.

Jo watches the dancers with delight, but she hadn't practiced up on this kind of cultural tradition.

Nish makes her way to Jo, and offers a hand out for a dance. "Oh, come on, we'll just go groove in the corner or something," she says with a giggle. "I'm so glad Tad isn't here. She'd be in a corner going, oh no! the clothespins! their legs! help!" Nish winks at Jo and flips her hair back behind her shoulder. "Let's go bounce around the humans."

Jo laughs at Nish and says, "Fine, so long as we're not somewhere they'll trip on us."

Mordecai looks around for somewhere to be where people aren't looking at him, but it's too late. As Mordecai splits off from Colson, Lucy Harbrooke, his sister-in-law, approaches him, looking perfectly happy.

"That was such a lovely dance," she gushes, hands clasped to her chest.

"Um, thank you…"

"The two of you are so sweet. Congratulations. May I have this next dance, Mordecai?"

He freezes. He obviously doesn't want to, and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. "I don't know this one," Mordecai mumbles.

"Oh, I suppose it's a rather complicated one, isn't it?" Lucy laughs it off. "Why don't you have a seat. I'll just dance with…" She looks back at the table to see her husband, Gavin, walking to the dance floor arm in arm with a young nobleman. "…someone else, don't you worry." Her smile barely wavering, Lucy Harbrooke heads up towards the dance floor, looking around for anyone who looks like perhaps they do want to dance and have nobody to dance with.

When the second dance ends, a far less complex one begins, a lovely little Southshore Pousette, intended for two couples to trade off partners in. Colson bows to Cressidha, and approaches Mizzy to ask for the dance. The Southshore Pousette is a moderately choreographed dance, more about dancing trading partners in circles, occasionally touching wrists together, turning first one way, then the other, and returning to original partners to dance in a rotation around the other couple using what is often referred to as a quickstep to a lively beat.

Music inspiration: "Eyvindr's Flight" - Arn Andersson and Mark Brittinham https://youtu.be/KjWgfLxXb3k

As the second dance ends and the Southshore number starts, Lena takes her leave from Random Guy and looks around for Kenna.

Kenna is found off to one side, emptying a champagne flute and idly wrapping a bit of white ribbon through her fingers, both ends cleanly cut with a blade.

Lena bounces up to Kenna, flush-cheeked, and says, "Sorry for running off—I haven't danced like that in…" she shakes her head and doesn't finish the sentence. "Do you want to dance? If we both know the next one?"

Kenna cocks her head as if considering, eyes darting across the entire crowd before nodding. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours," she murmurs, grinning, and takes Lena's hand.

"As always," Lena says, smiling back and leading Kenna out on the dance floor. Lena dances gracefully, and has clearly practiced the steps. Still, there's something slightly uncertain in her movements, and a nervousness as she glances at the positions of the other dancers.

"Lady Ismene, may I have this dance?" Colson asks Mizzy, his voice polite and mild as ever, his face a rigid mask of neutrality that it is clear he is trying very hard to force a faint smile into. It's not entirely successful. He looks very stoic.

Lady Ismene absolutely dances with Colson, and it's clear she's had some instruction because she skips lightly through the Pousette and beams her way through it. She doesn't even talk much except to murmur about how lovely things were, what a nice ceremony, the priest wasn't one of the grim ones thank the Light. As she makes her curtsey to him at the end of the number, she whispers to Colson, "If I were you, I wouldn't bother with being nervous now. Wait until you go home together." Almost laughing, she spins away to find Ben. Ismene Callous.

Colson's face pales slightly at her words, and there's a flash of almost-pain in his eyes, so subtle that it would be easy to miss. "Thank you, Ismene. I am certain it will be well." His words seem very at odds with the stiffness of his bow, as he retreats to sit out the Allemande, taking his place by Mordecai.

Ben is waiting for Ismene off the edge of the dance floor, still in casual untied-tie mode, another glass of wine in hand. He does not dance — there is only so much stuff a fellow can be expected to learn how to do on short notice before a City Wedding — but his gaze tracks Mizzy proudly and when she returns he offers his elbow gallantly and bends to murmur appreciatively in her ear.

Mizzy snuggles up close to Ben, but just for a moment before she retreats to a more seemly distance, though she does keep hold of his elbow. Her dark eyes are sparkling with merriment and happiness, her cheeks for once flushed with excitement and not embarrassment or shame. "Maybe we can just have a big reception, do you think?" she asks, reaching for his wine glass.

Ben surrenders his glass with a smile. "Like Mr — like my folks did? We could do that, sure. Gimme enough time and I can maybe learn a dance, even." He tugs her close again and stoops to kiss her.

Azizia seems bored out of her mind, her arms crossed and sighing, as she knows none of the songs that are played that night, and instead stand at her table for most of the songs, a champagne flute in her hand. Around the third song, Gaakhed slams both his hands on their table and exclaims in Draenei: "Alright, Azizia, you're coming with me?"

Azizia raises an eyebrow at him.

"We don't know their songs, we don't know their dances… should we let that stop us from having fun?" he asks.

Azizia smirks at him, and for the next few dances, these two Draenei do their own dance on the side of the dance floor. It doesn't fit the music style at all and really stands out from the other dancers but, hey, who wrote the rules of dancing?

Dane's lips suddenly twist in subtle amusement at the draenei. Not out of mockery, but enjoyment to see someone drawing outside the lines.

Nish, spotting two more who refuse to be bound by Human Dances, cheers at the Draenei as they pass by, tossing a handful of glitter at them as they draw within range.

Gaakhed winks at Nish as she throws glitter, while Azizia discreetly makes sure that her air elemental blows the glitter off of her dress. She already has shining, minuscule ice crystals floating around her, jeez!

The fourth dance returns to the Stormwind Allemande, this time intended for the full ballroom version, where couples must navigate among each other, spinning carefully in place.

During the fourth dance, the warrior clears his throat and grunts. Dane stands, buttons his jacket, and holds a calloused hand down to Ivrianna. "Come on, then, bird. Wager it's time for someone to turn you 'bout the place."

Eyebrows rising, Ivri puts down her wine glass (she's still on her first). "You know how to dance?" she asks Dane, resting her hand ever so lightly in his.

Dane shrugs nonchalantly and glances around, brows knit. He patiently waits. "Heard once old dogs can learn new tricks. Apparently there's a bit of truth to it."

Ivri rises. "I assume you'll lead," she teases Dane, smiling up at him, blue eyes sparkling.

"Someone'll have to, won't they," he responds flatly before winking. He spins Ivrianna onto the dance floor, maintaining firm control before forming a definitive frame for her to hold onto, his posture somehow rigid with military disciplined but tempered with practiced, gentle grace. His fingers find the center of her back as he takes her hand and holds it high. "May've badgered the groom for a lesson. Or six." he confides lowly, and warmly.

Ivri's gaze is every bit as besotted with Dane as a romance novelist could wish for. She struggles to find something impish to say. But she can't. Instead, she spins and sways in his arms. If her easy grace is not that of a debutante well-schooled in such matters, if it is instead a bit more, well, lethal, perhaps the lines of her gown disguise it.

He grunts with approval and nods. "Good. S'it. We figgered' you'd be able to keep up." he muses calmly as he leads her through the room, somehow managing to not trample their fellow dancers. "S'a good thing there's no bride at this wedding, 'Vrianna. Reckon she'd have kicked you out at the door for looking as you are," he mutters casually, head held high.

Thus saving me from the social faux pas of kicking a bride's ass on her wedding day," Ivri says softly, probably to the shock of at least three couples near them. Unless they're Cobalt Couples who're used to her. "I can't believe you learned this so we could dance together."

Dane actually laughs, briefly hanging his head back, adding to the shock of those three couples. Poor them. "I'm full of surprises Barlowe. Somming' of a prince charming, and deadly humble about it all."

"Mm, yes," Ivri agrees, not at all eyeing the line of his throat, "you certainly are. I bet you've a surprise in your jacket pocket, right this minute."

Dane clicks his teeth and idly looks past her while keeping the flow steady, leading her into another slow spin before drawing her back to him. "P'raps. P'raps not. Wot'ever it is, it'll come later."

Now there's the familiar devilish gleam in Ivri's eyes. At least this time she has enough couth to whisper something to him, instead of shocking the gentry.

Dane perks a brow and peers down at her with a feigned look of haughtiness, as if impersonating some of the faces around them that they don't recognize. "Cheeky."

Ivri bats her big blue eyes at Dane. "I thought you liked it. I suppose I could stop…" She bites her lower lip and looks up at him, her eyes wide and too, too innocent.

Dane just takes that moment to lean down and kiss her. It's restrained, given their surroundings, but it's certainly no kiss on the cheek.

It's just as well they ended up near the edge when the next dance begins, because Ivri returns his kiss and she is not wearing a wedding ring oh my the sheer scandal this is what comes of letting mercenaries and who knows what into the company of Good People.

Hushed whispers are spreading through the crowd, and Clara Aspenwood is standing on her tiptoes, looking around for something.

OSWALD IS FREE.

Ralaea, still patiently observing as much of the goings on as she can reasonably see from her place by the wall, notices the distress of one Clara Aspenwood. She begins scanning the area more closely, though she does not yet know what she is looking for.

Ralaea might catch the elegant Lady Clara Aspenwood making her way from table to table and trying to discreetly glance under tablecloths as she makes polite conversation. She seems to be looking for something low to the ground?

BUT WHERE IS OSWALD?

The cat is, at this very moment, headed directly for Oranna Stormbreaker, the best two-legged person in existence, obviously.

Oranna has been sitting for the past few dances that she clearly doesn't know well, watching the people dancing with rapt fascination, her eyes darting around at the motions in a way that suggests it's entirely possible that she is memorizing the patterns as they are happening. She seems to perk up slightly when Oswald is within range, as though sensing the cat's presence. She blinks, and looks under the table. "Oswald?" she says, in a voice that suggests she's really not sure that the cat would be there, despite what her instincts are telling her.

Ralaea inches closer to the exit, not quite blocking it, but close enough that she could tell if something small were to make a run for it. She keeps a careful watch between the exit and the dance floor, hoping that whatever it is — maybe that angry sounding cat from earlier? — doesn't become a tripping hazard.

Oswald bonks his head into Oranna's knee and goes, "Mrrrp."

Oranna laughs, a loud sound that might carry enough to startle some people nearby, and scoops up the lil scamp. "Oh, lad," she chides gently. "Look a' ye, such a pretty lil' lad, but wha' are ye doin' walkin' 'round, ye good boy?" She speaks in a slightly higher pitch, but lower voice than her usual as she gently strokes Oswald's head, and moving her fingers to scratch his neck under where the bow tie collar is, shifting him into her lap.

Ralaea catches sight of the dwarf seating a cat — presumably the noisy one — in her lap, and relaxes. Oh good. She chances a glance back at Clara Aspenwood. Well… She'll figure it out. Maybe.

When he sits next to Mordecai, Colson stares straight ahead, breathing too evenly, before he holds out a hand for Mordecai's own. He doesn't look at him, but there's something soft in his eyes as he stares out at the guests. There's something in his body language that suggests he will hold his hand out to Mordecai for the rest of the evening, whether or not Mordecai takes it.

Mordecai looks overheated. He hasn't taken his jacket off, he's sweating, and he barely notices Colson's return. He's tracking someone else who is currently crossing the room towards him: his mother.

Colson notes Lavinia's approach with thin lips, and a tight expression. He glances at Mordecai, noting the flush and his eyes go soft. He inhales and sends out the Twin Signal to Cressidha, telegraphing when she looks at him 'water' and 'a cool breeze?' and vaguely head nodding at Mordecai.

Before the Lady Harbrooke can get to the table, he leans in closer to Mordecai, his voice low, "Mordecai. Your jacket. Please, allow me to take it."

Cressidha catches Colson's eye. A moment later, just as Mordecai is shrugging out of his jacket, a cool breeze sweeps past the table. What an interesting coincidence.

Meanwhile, Gerhold takes to the floor, robes flowing but never flapping, indiscriminate in his choice of partners. Round after round after round, with nary a bead of sweat offending his brow. He naturally takes Nish on at least two turns if she's available.

Nish downs a potion that makes her grow two feet VERY abruptly, her clothes expanding only slightly. What was a vaguely suggestive dress now strains the boundaries of propriety, but she's much closer in height to Gerhold, if only for about the span of a song. She dances completely wrong, but strangely on beat and keeps up with Gerhold, even if she doesn't do the right things.

Dane blinks from across that room. "That's how they do it."

Mizzy takes her kiss from Ben, nearly as tipsy on it as she is on the wine she's had. And now she adds half of Ben's glass to her total. "Oops," she says, looking across the floor. "Oh! I know. Let's get them the present of running interference with his family!" She leans close to Ben and says, in a Chardonnay-laden whisper, "They're horrible, you know."

Ben nods gravely at Mizzy, his eyes bright. "S' what I heard. You want to get in their way a little?"

Mizzy nods eagerly and storms the fringes of the dance floor with A Ben in tow. Sort of. If he moves. If he doesn't, it's just her stomping in place with great determination.

Ben moves. The Chihuahua once more tows the Clydesdale by sheer force of will. And the Clydesdale's affectionate tolerance. He is trying to straighten his loosened tie with his free hand as best he can. His once-neatly-combed hair is beginning to escape into its natural state a little.

In the meantime, Sil has been offering dances to any ladies who appear to be unpartnered and desiring of a whirl.

Nish has taken him up on at least one offer, shimmying completely incorrectly but still managing to sorta dance along, until she just suggests that maybe Sil should just pick her up and whirl her around.

At some point, Thaldor has emerged into the area, tipping a small flask into his wine and watching everything intently. His gaze lingers slightly longer on any adjacent Harbrookes, like a falcon eyeing the scurrying of a nearby family of mice.

Lavinia stops by the table and bends down to kiss Mordecai's forehead. "Congratulations, sweetheart. And Colson, welcome to the family." It's difficult to measure her sincerity.

"He's an incredible dancer, isn't he?" says Gavin, approaching the table from the other side.

Mordecai mumbles something. A passing waiter sets a glass of water on the table in front of him.

Colson smiles gently at Cress, and then glances at Mordecai in an evaluation of how the other man is doing, before making eye contact with Lavinia.

"Thank you, Lady Harbrooke. A pleasure, I'm sure. Mordecai is a most welcome addition to the Aspenwoods," Colson says in a polite, if cold voice. His eyes look around the same temperature as the breeze Cressidha sends out.

"Gavin," Colson says in acknowledgment of the other man, inclining his head to an exact politeness, no more, no less.

Mordecai takes a sip of water and mumbles a thank you.

"I've arranged for your things to be sent to the Aspenwood townhouse, sweetie. I'm sure they have someone working today to see that they get brought inside," Lavinia tells her son.

"Might I have this next dance?" Gavin holds a hand out to Colson.

Colson inclines his head to Gavin, standing gracefully for the fifth dance. He seems to be claiming the place of lead by holding out his hand in the same general way he held his out for Mordecai's before, and his face is a mask of neutrality.

The fifth dance is a stately, new (very fashionable) Stormwind Promenade, meant to be performed in a line of couples, in two rows with slow, careful motions of flowing steps that use quite a bit of slow turns.

Musical inspriation: "Feet Down" by Aaron Sprinkle https://youtu.be/WI2Ls43nxfc

Dane retakes their seat and finally breaks — at least a little. He loosens his tie and refills both of their wines with a satisfied grunt. "That ought to keep them a while."

Ivri sits properly. Then wriggles a bit. Then slumps in her chair and sighs heavily, looking around. "I suppose it'd be terrible if I sat in your lap," she says to Dane, morosely. Then she perks up. "Oh! Do you suppose I might go through the crowd and see who has what in their pockets? I saw Silvestre earlier. We could make a game of it, see who comes up with the best stuff?"

Dane scoffs with amusement, undoing a button as he settles back and pats his leg. "No one's bloody looking at us," he growls with relief, gesturing in the vague direction of the grooms. "As for that trouble … I cannot advocate it. Wot' you make of him, anyway? Sil?"

Voice bubbling with amusement, Ivri notes, "If I sat in your lap, they would be. Which, I suppose, could be a good diversion. Let me know when it looks like the grooms have had enough. We can cause a scene and let them escape."

Dane up-nods slowly, and seems to sober up a bit at the thought of doing something useful. He slightly leans forward and scans the crowd, noting Ismene's interfacing. "Aye. Seems to be some sort'f trouble brewing. S'never quite plain with this lot, but it's there."

As they approach the Wedded Couple and the In-Laws from Fel, Ismene's posture straightens just a touch, her chin held at a Correct level, her smile practiced and poised. "Lady Harbrooke," she says, interrupting in a most forward manner. "I do beg your pardon. Lady Ismene Hazan. Your son was kind enough to ask me to stand with him?" As she speaks, Mizzy begins very slightly, millimeter by millimeter, interposing herself between Mordecai and his relations.

Ben does not manage Correct as well as his wife, but he manages Large very well and by nature. Smiling his best Guileless Ben™️ smile, he Looms.

Gavin gives Colson a little bow and takes his hand. As the two of them start off towards the dance floor, he glances over his shoulder back at his little brother Mordecai and winks at him.

Lady Lavinia Harbrooke straightens similarly to address Ismene. "Ah, yes. It's lovely to meet you, my dear. Mordecai mentioned he knows you from work…? You're a priestess as well, I hear?" She seems polite enough, at least. For now.

Eyelashes lowering demurely, Ismene replies, "Yes, for now. I'm sure His Lordship and I — " she pauses here to look up at Ben, her smile a perfectly proper curve of lips that is neither crass nor showy, then looks back at the Lady Harbrooke "—will someday retire to my family's holdings in Southshore. In such difficult times, of course, patriotism and duty to the country must come first. Mordecai is such a wonderful healer. So attentive to the body and spirit. I find my shifts with him run much smoother." Millimeter.

Ben nods gravely and puts a hand over his wife's on his arm. "Indispensable," he adds, with Diction. "Mordecai is. To the Alliance effort."

"Oh, that is so lovely to hear. My Mordecai is such a hard worker, isn't he? I'm terribly proud of him," Lavinia gushes. "Thank you both for your service."

Mordecai blinks up at his mother, startled. He apparently doesn't get compliments from her very often.

Ben smiles more at Lady Harbrooke. "Obliged, ma'am," he says. "But we are glad to be of service. As I reckon anyone ought to be. And as I know Mordecai and Colson are." Then, unsure how to combat a lady's compliments, he glances to Mizzy for his cue.

Ismene pats Ben's arm lightly. Well done, dear. "Shows in the breeding, you know," she confides to the Lady Harbrooke. "Some families, though of course I'd never say which ones, couldn't rummage up even one son or daughter with the courage to stare war in the face. And healers, well! In the worst of it and so highly valued."

"My Nate was a soldier, you know," Lavinia tells Ismene, and her tone is fond, but there's a note of deep sorrow there. "My eldest, Mordecai's brother. May he rest in the Light."

Mordecai sips his water and stares blankly across the room at the dance floor. He's tracking Colson.

Gavin Harbrooke spends dance five with Colson telling him that it's been a delight to make his acquaintance and that he's such an exceptional dancer; that his brother Mordecai is very fortunate to be marrying a handsome man such as himself; that perhaps now that Colson's joined the family the two of them might have a chance to get to know each other better.

Lucy Harbrooke watches from the sidelines as her husband dances with one of the grooms with a bright smile, applauding any particularly elegant dance moves the two of them execute. Gavin will probably get around to dancing with her eventually. Probably. It's fine.

Ismene nods, her smile dimming out of respect for the dead. "How difficult it must have been for you to let Mordecai go into the service," she says, brown eyes warm with sympathy and understanding. Millimeter. Behind her back, Mizzy flaps a hand at Mordecai and points roughly in Colson's direction. "My mother says it's a mother's delight and her heartbreak, to see her children grow. What a loving family you must have! I'm quite envious, as I'm an only child."

As Mizzy talks, Ben shifts gradually toward her, perhaps in the manner of an affectionate husband, but also conveniently in a way that puts him — still quite Large — even more directly in front of Mordecai. He is the tower, yo.

Ivri looks around and drains her wineglass, gesturing for someone with a tray to bring her a refill. "Ugh. I spent a month doing this, you know. Faffing about, worrying over if I had tilted my head at an angle that would cause deadly insult or if I had murmured a polite phrase just a little too loud and might be condemned as coarse and of poor manner. If the lot of them did break into open warfare, I'd cheer them on. But no, it's all subtle. I hate subtle."

Dane tilts his head back and forth, smacking his lips. "I cannot say I disagree with that sentiment. If they were a class or so lower that'd be a bloody pub brawl, right there," he says, once again nodding in Isemene's direction.

That makes Ivri laugh. It's an honest laugh, bright and possibly too loud for the current company. "And you'd dive right in the thick of it," she says, pretending to chastise him. "Instead, here you are, sitting back, letting that little girl carry the charge. You could at least go dance with that woman over there, smiling like it's about to break into a million pieces and cut her heart to shreds." She nods her dark head toward Lucy.

Colson makes the barest minimum responses to Gavin, and even with a fairly difficult to read face, it is clear that he is abiding only exactly by polite standards. At the suggestion that they get to know each other better, Colson moves in slightly more than necessary for the dance, and in a low whisper, with an unusually vicious edge to the paladin's voice, he says, "You are welcome to our house only by Mordecai's wishes. Make no mistake, if I hear even the slightest breath of a rumor that you have slighted him in any way, I will not hold back Geoffram Nestor." He withdraws, his face returning to a neutrality, his grip far too tight, painfully so, in a way that may even leave a mark. He ends the dance at the exact moment possible, returning to Mordecai as soon as he is able.

Gavin clams up immediately. He executes a bow of a degree even more polite than ending a dance would normally require and then departs from the dance floor, brushing off Lucy as she hurries towards him. He's leaving.

Dane strokes his groomed chin in thought, and thanks to the wax there isn't any sound of scuffling whiskers whisking together. "She is somming' of a looker. He — well her husband's fled, hasn't he. I wager if I ever were to trade up, this ought to be the place."

Ivri pauses in wine-sipping to watch Gavin stalk out, ignoring his wife. "I think I'll stab that man," she notes matter-of-factly.

Colson sits back down next to Mordecai, already holding out a hand to him, his eyes flicking back and forth between the family, evaluating Ismene and Ben's expressions before his eyes eventually return to Mordecai.

Colson watches Gavin leave, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Those who know him well, know that he's satisfied the man is leaving, and that there's a simmering anger. To those who find him inscrutable, Colson might as well be watching a cloud of dust dissipate.

Mordecai quickly takes Colson's hand.

"It truly is," Lavinia says to Ismene. She doesn't seem like a terrible person, but terrible people often don't. "Is your mother here with you today? I would love to make her acquaintance."

Dane's eyes follow Gavin out, and he leans slightly towards Ivrianna while he stares. "Right. Wot's all that about?"

Ivri tsks. "I don't know and it's really annoying. I wasn't watching all the players. Damn, now I want to know. Maybe I'll get Colson to tell me, as soon as I see how this thing with Ben and Ismene plays out. That looks like it's getting good." She turns her head absently and nips at Dane's earlobe. My GOD woman, have you no decency?!

Ralaea unfortunately manages to glance over at Ivri -just- as the nipping happens. She looks away very quickly. Ivri really does bite.

Dane tightens his arm around Ivrianna, and just so lightly peels her off of him, but otherwise smirks out the corner of his mouth as he sits back and watches it play around. "It is somming' of a show, innit'. I've not been this close to this many 'fore." He spots Ralaea and faintly furrows his brow, nodding her over to their mostly absent table while most everyone else dances or Drama's.

Ralaea takes another quick glance around, then inches closer to Dane and Ivri's table. She has been summoned. She clears her throat when she arrives, very much avoiding making eye contact with Ivri. "Did you…need something?"

Ivri flaps a hand at Ralaea, staring at the younger Hazans, the older Harbrooke, the newlywed Aspenwoods. "Shh, it's just getting good. From what I can tell," she whispers, "it looks like Ismene is trying to keep Mordecai's mom away from him, and Colson's about to snap someone's head off and dunk a wine glass in the blood. He was dancing with someone who I think is Mordecai's brother? Oh, and HE was ignoring his nice, sweet, smiling wife the entire time and when he stormed out he all but snapped his fingers at her." She sounds like she should have a tub of buttered popcorn.

Dane slowly nods, and seems to just take Ivri's word for it, but as if they were watching some sort of soap opera, he does offer another question. "Wot's the trouble with her, then? Doesn't seem too foul," he says, nodding towards Lucy.

Ivri shoves a chair toward Ralaea so she knows to sit, and replies to Dane, "Well! That dress is at least three years out of mode and I cannot imagine what he meant by letting her turn up at an event like this in that dress. He obviously knows how to style himself but spends nothing on his wife, not gold or attention. The poor thing. Go get her, Dane. She's just standing there."

The band takes a break, leaving a silence in the place of the music, which makes conversations seem suddenly a lot louder.

In the break of music, Sil waves to his latest dancing partner and moves to the side of the room, wiping his face with a handkerchief and checking that his hair hasn't come loose (it hasn't, there is probably some kind of hair product involved). He glances over to the wedding party to see how they're doing.

By the time the music has stopped, Arnie and his similarly-aged little girl companion have made their way off the stage. Amadeus Aspenwood comes to collect his son, scooping him up easily in one arm. He bends down on one knee to the little girl and asks her softly about where her parents might be, then helps her locate them.

At the sudden lack of musical background sound, Colson looks at Mordecai, as though trying to read just how uncomfortable the other man is.

Mordecai looks like he has probably been ready to go hide somewhere dark and quiet for a while now.

He is pretty much entirely in Ben and Mizzy's joint shadow at this point, if that counts.

"Oh, how kind! But no, I'm afraid she was concerned her dress wouldn't be smart enough, as they've not been to Stormwind for years. I know she'd be honored and pleased to hear you thought of her." Ismene beams at The Lady Harbrooke as if she'd invented kittens and puppies. Ismene millimeters again, now having interposed fully half her body (ok she's tiny but still) between Lady Harbrooke and her son.

Colson hesitates for a moment, and looks between Ismene and Lavinia, then seems to come to a decision. He pulls Mordecai's hand to his lips, and brushes Mordecai's knuckles ever so faintly — it's barely a whisper of a touch, the kind that is polite across society. "My dear, while the band takes a rest, might I ask you to assist me? There is something I wish to play, and I would be indebted to you to turn the pages for me." He begins to stand, gently pulling Mordecai with him. "Excuse us, Lady Harbrooke."

Assuming Mordecai comes with him, Colson makes his way to the momentarily abandoned piano forte.

Mordecai goes red and quickly follows after Colson, mumbling a polite goodbye to his mother.

Assuming the Lady Harbrooke turns her attention to where attention should be directed, Mizzy nudges Ben as she backs away discreetly. She's fleeing, but quietly and without fanfare. She hopes.

Ben is towed again, genially. Job done, he guesses.

Thaldor intercepts Ismene on her way out, stopping her with a quick bow. "Miss Ismene! Delighted t' see ye. Fanciful to-do hereabouts, would ye no' say? I've no' gotten a letter from ye in a fair few an' hope yer doin' well enough? Ye an' young Master Hazan there, aye?"

Ben raises his eyebrows at the unfamiliar dwarf, and nods affably.

Ismene brightens instantly, restored to her normal demeanor. "Mr. Foxglove! How wonderful to see you!" She even bends to kiss his cheeks, demonstrating clear favor and close friendship. Then she gigg— Laughs. She laughs. "As if you didn't know about Ben and me three seconds after we spoke with the priest."

Thaldor chuckles, pressing Ismene's hand briefly with a perfectly friendly nod to Ben. "Aye, clever lass. Well, dinnae let me keep ye; ye look fair charged t' be gettin' where yer headed. Congratulations t' ye both in th' meantime!"

Ismene grins at Mr. Foxglove, bright as a new penny. "Thank you, from both of us." She glances over her shoulder and heaves a sigh. "Oh good, Colson's with him now. I wasn't sure how much longer I could be so fatuous."

Ralaea wears a mild frown at Ivri's summary. She watches Colson depart to the piano. This is fine, probably. She opens her mouth to again ask why she was summoned, but thinks better of it and continues her watch from her new position. When the chair is offered she sits, but sits very straight and rigidly, attempting to maintain her view of her surroundings.

Dane slowly turns towards her and raises his head. "Wot' do you make of all this, then?" He side-eyes Lucy and frowns in thought, visibly deliberating as he slowly sets his glass down.

Ralaea shrugs. "I…find the battlefield much less confusing."

He grunts briefly and turns to face Lucy fully, from afar. "Aye, too right."

Ivri snorts in a decidely unladylike manner and sneaks another gulp of wine. "Just wait until I tell you about the whole flower code thing. You could get married if you send the wrong flowers to the wrong person, or start a bloodfeud."

Ralaea frowns at this. "You can do what with flowers? I could understand if the flowers were poisoned, but…do you mean normal, ordinary flowers?"

"Poisoned flowers?!" Torvald Fauntleroy exclaims as he walks by, hearing Ralaea. It appears he's been outside for quite some time. The jacket is gone, his shirt has been rolled up into short sleeves, and his pants have been rolled into shorts. "Flowers, or mushrooms! Can't be too careful with mushrooms, even if they look like flowers! Deadly mushrooms are the vipers of plants, as they say!"

Ivri nods emphatically, eyes wide. "I know, right?! Ridiculous. Here, stay and keep Dane company and convince him that the poor frilly girl needs rescuing. I have to go kill her husband and feed his body to the canal monster before the watch changes."

Dane's arm hold around Ivrianna and tightens, and despite the amusement twinkling in his eyes, his tone is flat, and near monotone. "You'll not go slaying any bastards, 'Vrianna … Today."

Ralaea just about jumps out of her chair at the sudden exclamation. Who was — ? Where did — ? She'd let her guard down, thinking the danger was in front of her. This is why she preferred the wall… She nods to Torvald. "Yeah. Mushrooms are…" Her eyes widen at Ivri's comment.

The piano does have music on it. Colson sits gracefully, letting go of Mordecai's hand at the last moment, and pulls a booklet in front of him. He clears his throat a little, making slight hmmm sounds for a little bit, and places his hands on the keys, pausing for a moment.

Colson begins to play, and after a moment, sing: it is a fairly obscure, but not unknown Church song from the composer Arche Davit, a priest of the Light who died in the Third War. Colson's singing voice is a warm, lyrical tenor, and although he is pitch perfect, most who hear the music feel it has no feeling behind it. To those who know Colson well, he sings with deep feeling, clearly identifying strongly with the words.

Anyone who knows music quickly realizes Colson is not playing what is on the page. It's a ruse.

The music: "Glorious" by David Archuleta https://youtu.be/vlmsnPlZjgs

"There are times when
You might feel aimless
And can't see the places
Where you belong"

Mordecai has explicitly been given the job of turning the pages for Colson, and he is ready to wholeheartedly commit to this. He stands next to the piano bench, looking at the sheet music…

And then Colson plays something completely different.

Immediately, Mordecai grabs the booklet off the piano and begins to frantically page through it, trying to find the actual song Colson is singing in there. By the end of the first verse, though, he realizes Colson obviously doesn't need the sheet music at all and he just places it back on the piano stand. He sits down on the edge of the piano bench next to Colson and closes his eyes, just enjoying the music.

"But you will find that
There is a purpose
It's been there within you
All along
And when you're near it
You can almost hear it"

Lucy is watching Colson play the piano now, hands clasped to her chest, with a big smile on her face. She looks genuinely happy for him and Mordecai.

"It's like a symphony
Just keep listening
And pretty soon you'll start
To figure out your part
Everyone plays a piece
And there are melodies
In each one of us
Ooh it's glorious"

"And you will know how
To let it ring out
As you discover
Who you are
Others around you
Will start to wake up
To the sounds that are
In their hearts
It's so amazing
What we're all creating"

"It's like a symphony
Just keep listening
And pretty soon you'll start
To figure out your part
Everyone plays a piece
And there are melodies
In each one of us
Ooh it's glorious"

Colson makes direct eye contact with Mordecai.

"And as you feel
The notes build
Higher
You will see
It's like a symphony
Just keep listening
And pretty soon you'll start
To figure out your part
Everyone plays a piece
See there are melodies
In each one of us
Ooh it's glorious"

He breathes a little too fast, his eyes caught on Mordecai's face.

When the music stops, this does not seem to mean that dancing is over for Sandy, as he keeps showcasing some of his dance moves to people even without the band's music. He's stopped, however, by Colson's song. He whispers again, his voice shaky once more "I'm so proud of everyone!"

Lucy does not appear to need rescuing anymore. She has located Gardenia and Priscilla and the three of them have formed a sort of wife-and-fiancée huddle.

Dane shakes his head and sags briefly in relief. "Lookit' her, she's well 'nuff. She'll not be needing rescue any longer." He side-eyes Ivrianna, then Ralaea, and half-lids his eyes. Queue sad Tommy Lee Jones face.

"Hey, Rae, are you off-duty now? I saved you some cake!" Estel sidles up beside her and holds up a slice of cake on a plate. She's even got a fork with it.

Ralaea quickly gets to her feet, nearly knocking over the chair. She looks a tad guilty. "Off-duty? No, I… I was…" She sees the cake. "Oh. You didn't have to do that."

Estel laughs and keeps holding the plate out. "Well, I did. You can eat it real fast, yeah? This one's good. I mean, if you like cake. Don't worry, it's not like I saved you my piece. I had like four."

Ivri flaps her hand at Ralaea again, gesturing her to sit. "Estel! You're missing all the drama. I should've known you'd get sidetracked by cake. Here, keep Dane and Ralaea company. I've got to go kill somebody and dump his body in Elwynn Forest before all the wolves are asleep for the night."

"Ivriiii." Estel laughs, taking a seat. "Kill 'em another day, today's too obvious."

Torvald sits nearby, nodding at Ivri. "Wolves are good! I like the way you think, young lady. Who are we killing? Someone dastardly? Did someone try to steal the bride away?" He frowns. "The…groom? The other groom? Oh, well, you know what they say, a groom in the hand is worth two in the forest."

Ralaea looks very surprised by the "light" topic of assassination. Are they serious? Ivri might be. She bites. As a distraction, Ralaea does as Estel suggests and takes the cake, shoveling it down quickly to destroy any evidence of her possibly shirking her duties. It really is good cake, though.

Ivri scooches closer to Torvald, as close as she can without leaving the (very tight) reach of Dane's (no seriously that's really quite tight) arm. "See the poor little frilly girl?" she says, nodding just a fraction at Lucy. "Her husband, a rather handsome man, just stormed off and left her there, and he hadn't even danced with her once! It's a scandal, I think. Though I suppose we won't find out if it's the right sort of scandal until tomorrow. Maybe I should make it a scandal…" She taps her chin in thought.

Dane peers at Torvald, shifting in his seat to get a better look at him. "You with the groom or — " He just growls and shakes his head. "You with the Aspenwoods or the Harbrookes?"

When the song is over, Colson moves his hand back into Mordecai's leaning in closely to murmur something that wouldn't be overheard by anyone not very close the couple. "My place is right here, with you." He looks away slightly, his face moving in a dozen small ways, not settling on any expression. His eyes look back at the table with Mordecai's mother, and scans the crowd for wherever Mordred got to. His lips tighten. "Would you rather return to the table, or shall I insist upon another dance?" He asks Mordecai in a soft voice.

Mordecai flushes red and squeezes Colson's hand once. "I, um, I didn't know you sang. That was beautiful, um. I… I don't know any other dances. Not - not well enough to dance them in front of everyone."

Mordecai's mother has indeed taken her cue from Ismene departing and is making her way towards one of the refreshments tables.

Mordred is seated at a table entirely by himself with a distant, sad expression on his face. He doesn't notice Colson looking at him.

Colson nods faintly. The musicians are returning. One is looking at Colson with clear appreciation, her expression turning a little suggestive. Colson clears his throat and turns to Mordecai. "Then, I suppose we must return, unless…" He looks to the Cathedral. "There are more songs, but we could begin the reception early." He smiles softly at Mordecai, and there's a flash of that almost-pain in his eyes before he covers it behind a polite neutral expression. "It is our wedding. We may end it when we wish."

Mordecai tugs at Colson's hand, getting up. "They probably want their piano back. Or for you to join the band, one or another. If-if you want to dance with more of your family and friends, I don't mind, um. I'm all right sitting for a while."

Colson stands with Mordecai and there's something in his expression as he shakes his head. "I have done my duty enough. I will remain with you." His words are slightly undermined by the fact that he seems to having some trouble looking at Mordecai again, his face turning red. "Let us sit, then," he says, as he moves to lead Mordecai through the crowd back to their table.

A Fifth Song begins, a sweet piano number, perhaps inspired by the paladin, intended as a Quadrille. It's not particularly old, or new; it was more popular five years ago than it is now, but many will know it. It requires four couples, working carefully in a very choreographed step. Some use the opportunity of it to dance in their own way on the edges of the dance floor.

Music inspiration: "Whole Again" - Simon Daum https://youtu.be/xwJuKbGQa94

Ismene's face lights up as the music starts. She looks up at Ben — but no. Then she looks around for Silvestre, for all the world like a 5'2" puppy dog in a blue floof dress.

Sil catches Ismene's eye and waves, his 'serious gentleman' look ruined by a sudden boyish grin.

Mizzy doesn't quite hop up and down, but it's a near thing as she looks from Sil to the dance floor to Sil. Whine.

Sil strides directly over to Mizzy and makes a formal bow. "May I have this dance, Ismene?"

Ben, laughing, releases Mizzy's arm and nods at Sil. "Go on, then. I'm gonna get a drink, someone stole my last one."

"YES!" Ismene says, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward another couple for the quadrille.

Sil laughs and waves to Ben as Mizzy drags him to the dance floor.

Sandy downs a glass of literally anything at the refreshment table and goes back to dancing for the fifth song.

Ismene can't stop smiling from ear to ear as she dances, skipping lightly through the steps, a quick dip here, a nod of her head there, touching wrists and turning to touch wrists with her off-partner. She loves everyone at the moment, just everyone, and Sil gets her most brilliant smiles.

Sil laughs, and smiles, and dances with such enthusiasm that no one would guess he'd been dancing from the first number.

Torvald nods along at Ivri’s proposal to do A Murder. "Proper scandal!" he exclaims, before turning to Dane. He holds out a massive hand that suits his 6'6" frame to shake Dane's. "TORVALD FAUNTLEROY, GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER!" he says by way of yelling introduction, flourishing an invisible hat. "I'm with Cobalt."

Ivri can't help but look above Torvald's head, just in case a "Gentleman Adventurer!" sign appears there in bright red glowing letters with fountains of sparks shooting off on either side. She wouldn't be surprised.

Dane leans back at the yelling, blinking a few times with lips quirked to the side in bemusement. He meets the hand with a massive mitt of his own, and gives a respectfully firm shake. "Aye, cheers mate. Put it there. M'Dane Atley."

Ralaea cringes at the sudden yelling and slides away from Torvald.

"Oh, Atley! Now, any relation to the woodcutters Atley?" Torvald asks, cheerily, winking with a broad smile at Ralaea. "Don't worry, young lady. It's been a long time since the mushrooms. I'm fully right and left in the head, as they say."

Ralaea mutters to herself, "Fully something in the head."

Dane's expression shifts, and he slowly shakes his head, staring at Torvald in complete (but stoic) bafflement. "I'm the son of woodcutters, aye. In Redridge."

Ivri catches Ralaea's eye and nods.

Torvald grunts. Oh, no, he speaks Grunt. "Ah, yes, thought so. Good family. Quality lumber." He says this like it's a Very High compliment. He looks up at the music. "OH! I know this one!" He stands with a grin, looking for a partner.

Nish has found Torvald. Oh, no. He's scooped her up into a dance. They look like someone (Gerhold??) should probably separate them before chaos ensues. Nish definitely has at least three recreational bombs on her. Gerhold knows this.

Dane leans forward to speak, as if he'd been clobbered over the head, before Torvald stands. He peers a moment longer before squinting in thought and looking away.

Gaakhed accidentally bumps into Torvald as he dances with Azizia. "Ah, forgive me!" he says to Torvald, then he looks at Nish. "Glitter gnome! Do you wish to switch partners?" he asks the two.
Azizia looks absolutely baffled that Gaakhed would leave her to dance with a stranger.

Torvald chuckles amicably, looking none the worse for the wear. His mouth falls open when he sees Azizia. He bows, a full Courtly Bow, to her. "My fairest lady, it would be an absolute honor to lead you in a dance, if you would grant me the pleasure of your company." His Lordaeron accent gets stronger, covering some of the older Ravenhill touches to his vowels.

Nish squeals with Delight, and downs her last Big Potion. "Let's do this big guy!" She is still a solid three feet shorter than Gaakhed. But, well. It's closer.

Azizia looks at Torvald, her arms crossed with her head resting on the closed fist with the rock bracelet under. She considers it for a little while, then shrugs with one shoulder and answers his very polite offer with an:
"Okay."

Gaakhed lets out a belly laugh at Nish's comment, then starts to dance in something that seems to be a mix of Draenei traditional dances and whatever moves Nish might teach him.

Torvald, for all his declarations of leading, seems to be rather letting Azizia set the dance style, not even remotely trying to pull her into a human dance. He's just flailing along, weirdly in sync with the music, Enthusiasm on MAXIMUM.

Nish has already asked Gaakhed to just pick her up and swing her around. If he does, she tosses glitter when she can.

Azizia has to hide a smile with her hand, and she tries her best to keep her with his frenzied dance because this actually looks really fun to her.

Gaakhed immediately Nish's idea and is, indeed now swinging her around, laughing really loudly.

Ben lounges against the wall for a time, a fresh glass of wine in one hand and his other hand in his pocket, watching Sil and Mizzy with a crooked smile. At length he straightens and ambles over to the Dane-Ivri-Rae-Estel table. "Hey, y'all." He nods at a vacant chair. "Can I?"

"Do it," Dane says (pleads?). "You seemed to handle yourself well for the show, Ben." (edited)

"Yeah, 'course!" Estel waves Ben over. "Good speech!"

Ivri brightens. "Ben! Just the thing. Here, keep Dane and Ralaea and Estel company. I have to go kill someone and drag the body to the jungle so the tigers can eat him."

Estel snort-laughs.

"This one's out for blood." Dane explains grimly.

Sandy, who was dancing with somebody nearby, overhears Ivri and just stops his dancing to go "Wait what?"

Ben nods genially at Ivri. "Okay. Good luck with that." He takes the seat and stretches his legs out with a contented sigh.

Ivri smiles serenely at Sandy. "Oh, just a terrible husband of a woman who will make a very pretty widow."

"Thanks," Ben says to Estel and Dane, and salutes them both with his glass before drinking again. He considers the glass a moment and then looks the ladies at the table over. "Get anyone a drink?"

Dane grunts, despite not being a lady. "I'll take somming' dark. Wot'ever they have."

"Sure." Ben sets his own glass down with a nod to Dane, and sweeps Ivri, Rae, and Estel with another inquiring look.

Ralaea shakes her head at Ben. "A drink? Oh. No, I'm…on duty." She is looking less and less convinced of this herself.

Ben raises his eyebrows at her, good-naturedly. He surveys the armor and nods respectfully. "Okay. You sure? Warm in here."

Sandy blinks, then shakes his head. "Ivri! Do that on your own time, it's Colson and Mordecai's wedding, we need to celebrate!"

Ivri ughs. "That's what Estel said! Honestly."

"He's right, love. And you're looking crip, Sanders,” Dane says.

"Thanks Dane! You too!" he grins, throwing his arms back to make his coat/cape move and striking a pose. He then giggles. "Okay, I need to go dance again, anybody wants to join?"

A grunt in the negative escapes from Dane. "Why don't you take Ivri out for a spin, keep her occupied. She's bloodlusting."

Ivri rises. "I'M going to go talk to the happy couple. You can just stay here, Dane, since you won't let me kill anyone. I'm not speaking to you.

Another grunt from Dane.

Dane tilts his head briefly, and watches Ivri walk off before he shakes it and turns back to the others, eyebrows slightly raised.

Following Ben’s gaze as he takes in Ralaea’s armor, she nods. "It's…necessary." She sends a quick darting glance to her arms. "It is warm, but…" A shrug.

Ben nods again at Rae, and gets up to collect a drink for Dane, the sole non-lady at the table.

Sandy looks disappointed that no one seems to want to dance with him, so he turns around slightly, looks at Ralaea and exclaims loudly.
"RAE!"

Dane leans back again, eyeing Sandy bemusedly.

Ralaea goes rigid at the sound of Sandy's voice. She had been pretending not to see him. Panic flashes through her eyes. "I have to…go. Somewhere. Because. On duty." She flees to the other side of the room in a hurry.

Sandy reaches his hand towards Rae, his voice getting slower and lower as he speaks. "WAIT! I just wanted to… dance with you… and talk…" He looks completely bummed out by this, but then gives himself small slaps on the face. "Come on, this is Colson and Mordecai's wedding!" He puts a bright smile back on his face and turns to the dance floor, looking for his next dance partner.

"Aww, Sandy." Estel makes a face. "Sorry I don't know how to dance or I'd dance with ya, yeah? She'll be okay, 'm sure you just spooked her." She does not know any of the context.

"It's okay Estel!" he exclaims, a bright smile on his face. "I could teach you, I'm a really good dancer!"

Oranna has pet Oswald into a coma-like state. The cat has lost all bones, and he remains in her lap in one of those petting naps that cats do. He is drooling on her dress. She doesn't seem to notice or mind.

Colson has been sitting politely through the songs, watching the various couples, with no sense whatsoever that he wishes to join them. He is still holding Mordecai's hand, in a gentle hold. His hand is very warm and dry, but his thumb periodically seems to move on its own accord, that he forces still every time.

For all that she makes a dramatic turn, Ivri makes her way across the room with poise and dignity. She murmurs to couples or groups as she passes them — excuse me, exquisite gown, I believe you know Lord Elohad Ference so pleasant to see you again, how kind — and eventually drifts to a stop by Colson and Mordecai. "Why haven't you two snuck away yet?" she asks Colson.

Colson looks up at Ivri, a pleasant sort of faint smile on his face. "I am afraid I rather lack your particular skill set, Ivri. At most I can clank in a distracting manner, but I have no armor today. It is one day, and if we do it proper, then none shall be ever able to take fault with it, no matter what…" He glances at the Harbrookes, his face going cold for a flash. "May eventually come to pass."

"Well, you both look wonderful and I'd take you home with me if it wouldn't cause a scandal." Ivri pretends to think about it. "Mind you, that would be one way of making sure horrible relations never speak with either of you again. I was wondering if you knew the name and address of the person who left his sad frilly girl standing there in her out-of-the-mode pink dress?"

Colson chuckles faintly at Ivrianna, but his hand tightens on Mordecai's. "That was Gavin, Mordecai's brother." He says to Ivri, his eyes going icy, although he does something to keep his voice polite and light. "The lovely young woman you speak of is my sister-in-law Lady Lucille."

Ivri smiles and cocks her head slightly to one side, cheerful as can be on the outside. "He's awful. No one will let me slip away to murder him and fling his body off Aerie Peak. At least not tonight. He's certainly enough in ready pocket to keep himself immaculate. I hope everyone else in the family is nicer to her, or I'll take her away and make her an honorary Barlowe."

The sixth dance is a pleasant, rolling jig that might be surprising to hear at the Aspenwood wedding; this isn't a courtly dance at all. It's a jig one might expect from, well, isn't this a commoner's barn dance?? Who is responsible for this??

When the strings begin, Colson smiles faintly, and sits back ever so slightly in satisfaction.

Music inspiration: "Jig for Christina" - Hanneke Cassel https://youtu.be/C9Wd8Wexs1A

Dane perks up, and sits up in his chair. He briefly glances around, as if checking to see if he's hearing things or not. "This bloody takes me back."

Ben returns to set a pint of stout in front of Dane, notes Rae's vacant chair and Sandy's consternation, and knits his brow.

Dane swipes it up and wastes no time in guzzling down at least half of it in a few gulps. It must be muscle memory, what with the music that's playing.

Estel points in the direction Rae went.

Ben looks where Estel points, spots Rae on the other side of the room, and looks back at Estel, brow still furrowed. He is clearly trying to do a Telepathic Question at her.

Estel chews on her lip, thinking. She looks between Sandy and Ben, then shrugs to Ben (Telepathic Answer: No clue what you were trying to ask me, but you do you, buddy.) and hops to her feet. "Yeah, sure, okay. Teach me how to dance an' I'll try not to screw it up!" She offers a hand out to Sandy.

Sandy lets out a cheerful "Yay!", takes her hand and pulls Estel to the dance floor. He briefly briefs her on how to stand for the current dance, and how to move, then says, "Okay, follow me!"

He abruptly starts dancing with her, barely giving her a chance to take in the information he gave her.

Dane seems content to drink and lounge for now.

Ben, resigned to Telepathic Ignorance, settles back into his chair and takes up his wine again as Estel goes to dance with Sandy. He raises his glass in a small salute to Sandy, and then does a Drink and Lounge like a junior Mr Atley.

Mizzy laughs her way off the dance floor, giving Sil a big hug. "I knew you'd know how to dance!" she tells him happily. "You have to teach Ben now, and we'll get him to teach us something. Drawing maybe!"

Sil laughs and hugs her back. "Yeah, he's so good at that. Or baking, but I think I might be hopeless there. How'd you like being a matron of honor?"

Mizzy's nose wrinkles. "I'd have liked it more with more time to prepare. Mordecai's just the nicest person, and I would've liked to have done right by him but I did what I could even though it wasn't really enough, not that he seemed to expect more! He's far too polite to say anything and honestly I don't suppose he'd have noticed if I didn't do a thing except show up, I'm sure he'd have noticed that." BREATHE. "Oh, there's Ben with everyone!" She tugs Sil toward The Table of Cobalters, but only because he lets her. Sil's not quite the Clydesdale to her Chihuahua, but he's at least, like, a Thoroughbred or something.

Sil absolutely lets Ismene drag him over to the Cobalters. "I bet you did great. You got my letter for him, right?"

Mizzy nods, leaving Sil as she sits next to Ben, stealing someone's chair. "I did! You should see all of the letters together, it was wonderful."

Dane tongues the inside of his cheek, watching Ivrianna mingle before he finishes off his drink and pushes himself up. "Aye, ought to," he says to himself. He marches over to join them, but it takes him more time to weave through the crowd.

It immediately becomes clear that - just as he was warned - Estel really doesn't know how to dance. She does her best to keep up with him. Her best is maybe a three out of ten.

Sandy grins at her. "Hey, don't worry, it's okay if you mess up! Dancing's much more fun when you do it your own way! Just try to follow the rhythm!" As he says that, he gives her a chance to lead the dance, no matter what happens.

Estel's idea of dancing involves holding hands and sort of spinning in circles, except the spinning occurs at a speed that's perhaps vaguely intended to match up with the speed of the music.

Sandy smiles brightly at Estel and follows the movement, perfectly happy to spin in circles.

Ralaea, now a lot further from the exit, pauses to catch her breath and contemplate how exactly she is going to sneak over to it without anyone noticing. And possibly out. Out would be good. "On duty…" she mutters to herself as a reminder. Fleeing entirely would not be an option.

Sil settles into a chair and lets out a breath. He waves at Ben. "How's the best man doin'?"

Ben smiles crookedly at Sil and shrugs a shoulder. "You know. The best." He gives Ismene a warm, sidelong look, perhaps to credit her with this? and then glances back at Sil. "How're you? Havin' fun? You get a drink?"

Sil laughs and leans back slightly in his chair, before remembering himself and sitting up straight. "No, I've mostly just been dancin'. Aiming to be a good proper guest and all. Plus, it's fun, dancing with folks all dolled up. Look at everybody in all their fancy dresses and suits!"

Mizzy gives Ben a quick kiss on the cheek and starts making the rounds of People She Must Be Social With Because Ference And Also So Word Gets Back That She Did Well, which is a very long round and will take most of the night until Ben drags her out.

Dane finally joins Ivrianna and the grooms, and grunts, extending a hand. "It's a good evening, you lot. Proper congratulations to the pair of you. Right handsome pair."

Colson takes Dane's hand immediately, shaking it with a surprisingly — maybe not so for Dane anymore — strong grip. "Thank you, Dane. I appreciate you coming. I hope you've enjoyed yourself."

Ivri takes Dane's arm and smiles at Mordecai. "I must have missed it, I'm sorry, where did you say Gavin lives?"

Dane did extend a hand to Mordecai, but he doesn't seem particularly miffed by the refusal of reciprocation. "Aye, it's been a proper – " he pauses for the right word. "Celebration. Just wanted to wish the pair of you – " He cuts off and side-eyes Ivrianna… with amusement.

Colson's voice is mild, but frosty. "There's no need, Ivri. I assure you, the Light's justice will find its way there," he says in a low tone to the unspoken (to him) threat in her words. "I guarantee it," he adds, the very faintest of a golden glow in his eyes that fades as quickly as he can force it back.

Dane faintly raises his brows, intrigued, like that one gif. You know the one I mean. Except it's gruff.

Mordecai seems genuinely alarmed. He looks between Colson and Ivri. "Wh-what?"

"Mm. Too right,” Dane says.

Ivri informs Mordecai, "Your husband won't let me kill your brother. Do speak with him, please. I'm sure he'd let me do it if you wanted it as a wedding present."

Colson leans in closer to speak to Mordecai in a low voice. "Your family's scheme will not last much longer. You should prepare yourself. Your brothers' dance will come to an end shortly, and there will be fallout, but that is not for today." He seems to stop himself from moving too close to Mordecai, but he pauses, to examine Mordecai's expression, his eyes softening. He runs a soothing hand over Mordecai's. "I will try to…make it as painless as possible, but there is nothing more I can do for them than what I have already. This," he nods at the wedding. "Buys them time, nothing more."

Dane knits his brow and briefly parts his lips in confusion, glancing between the grooms. "Seems to be somming' deeper going on here, then…"

Mordecai's eyes go very wide. He looks absolutely horrified at Ivri's suggestion, and Colson's words don't make him look any less upset; they seem to have the opposite effect. He shudders, looks down at the table, and just stops responding.

Colson's face falls, but he covers it with a neutral expression. He loosens his grip on Mordecai's hand in case the priest needs to draw it away. He looks resigned, and very stoic.

Ivri's pose of fatal insouciance fades and she smiles more gently at Mordecai, even though he's looking at the table. "I'm sorry, Mordecai. You must take me with a grain of salt; I forget not everyone in Cobalt is used to me yet. I'm sort of a masterclass in how to misbehave! I made Colson laugh out loud once, you know, so I promise you I'm mostly harmless to my family, like you."

Dane nods, and offers. "She's got a bit of pepper to her, this one. Nothing to fret about —" he looks to Colson. "Mister Aspenwood…?"

Colson makes a faint 'hmm?' sound at Dane, but his face is a mask of neutrality.

Mordecai makes a quiet noise that might be confirmation that he did hear what Ivri and Dane said, at least. And he doesn't let go of Colson's hand.

Dane leans in faintly. "You're both Aspenwoods now, aye?" he inquires casually.

Yes," Colson says mildly. "But, proper address would be 'Lord Colson' or 'Lord Mordecai' as neither of us are our family's heir," he explains. "But, there is no need for such formality, Dane." There's a very faint is-it-there-is-it-not smile on his face that fades instantly. "Except when we must, of course." He glances in the direction of the elder Harbrookes.

Dane nods his head once. "F'course," he growls, looping an arm around Ivrianna. "I'd best get this one off 'fore I turn to a pumpkin or somming'. You've our best regards, milords." He bows his head again and turns to walk out with B a r l o w e, unless interrupted.

Ivri smiles at Dane, her hand flat on his chest as he leads her out. "Brute," she teases him.

"Aye, too right, and you love it." Dane marches her off.

As the music comes to an end, the dancing winding down as the afternoon wanes into the beginning of evening, a silver haired woman makes her way toward the band. She is tall, and lanky, and wearing a suit that makes her gender ever so slightly ambiguous. Her hair — a mix of bright white and gray — is braided along the top of her head, the sides shaved to a faint bristle of hair.

Many of the older crowd would recognize her, particularly once she begins to sing, her voice deep and rich as she croons out a song: it is Chuck Silversong, of Lordaeron fame.

Lena pauses whatever she's doing when Chuck begins to sing, and turns to listen happily.

Music: "In The Dark" - Annaca https://youtu.be/qVc4cwdmYV0

"Lay your head on my shoulder
There's no right thing to do
All I want is to hold you
Are you feeling it too?"

"Nothing to say
Go your own way"

"Why do we wait in the dark
Giving up all that we’ve got?
Why do we stay in the fog?
Guess we can't see what we've lost"

"Is it just round the corner
Where our lights come to hide?
Won’t hold on any longer
'Cause I need a little shine"

"Nothing to say
Go your own way"

"Why do we wait in the dark
Giving up all that we've got?
Why do we stay in the fog?
Guess we can't see what we've lost"

"But I waited here for too long
Stepping out the shade and move on
Why do we wait in the dark?"

"Why do we wait in the dark
Giving up all that we've got?
Why do we stay in the fog?
Guess we can't see what we've lost"

"But I waited here for too long
Stepping out the shade and move on
Why do we wait in the dark?"

There are some murmurs after the song ends. Some are too starstruck by Chuck to do much but say, 'oh wow. oh wow.' But others seem taken aback by her presence, as though she was something of a controversial choice, and her choice of song was unusual.

The band plays light, non-committal music as the party begins to wrap up.

Ben, who has been a good boy all evening and whose patience for both ceremony and city people is limited, finishes his wine in reasonably short order, and gets up to collect Mizzy and drag her politely off.

Mizzy is dragged, still making her goodbyes.

Sil waves farewell to them both.

Colson smiles vaguely at Ben as he does, nodding to bro. Good job, bro, Cole is proud of u, man.

The newly wed couple move to stand at the entrance to the Cathedral, to the right side of it. The line forms into the Cathedral, where guests may wait, as they present themselves one by one to the youngest Aspenwoods.

Mordecai politely mumbles things like 'goodbye' and 'have a good evening' and 'thank you for coming'. He looks like he hit his socialization saturation point hours ago and is coasting by on autopilot. He thanks anyone who brought the two of them a gift.

There are quite a few of those starting to build up, and at some point, Mordecai leans over and whispers to Colson, "We can't take these all back to Honor Hold…"

"Do not worry. It's being handled already," he murmurs back, patting Mordecai's hand, which he has tucked into his arm in a formal way. "My parents will see to it."

Mordecai bites his lip. "They're being taken back to the townhouse? I'd like to at least… open everything, see what…" He shrugs. "I mean… will there be time? I know you're expected back tomorrow."

Colson looks in Mordecai's direction, not at his face, but somewhere around the other man's shoulder. "I return to Honor Hold tonight, but if you would rather remain here…you may. I shall see you tomorrow evening, if so." There's nothing in his voice to suggest that he has a preference, but his hand tightens slightly on Mordecai's own, as though struggling with something.

There's still a line of people waiting to give their congratulations to the couple, and Mordecai says a few more mumbly polite goodbyes to a few more rich people he doesn't know before he gets a chance to answer Colson. Several minutes have gone by, but he seems to have formulated his answer.

"So many of these kind people have given us gifts. I feel like it would be doing them a disservice if we were both to set them all aside and disappear back to work. And we don't know what's in them. Maybe there'll be something you want to take back with you. If you still need to return this evening, perhaps we can leave soon and sort through everything together before it gets too late?"

Colson smiles gently at Mordecai, still not meeting his eyes. "I have everything I need already, my — " he doesn't fully finish the sentence, shifting gears suddenly, his face burning slightly. "I expect to take a trip here by the end of this coming week. There is something…else I have business with in Stormwind, and I will use the opportunity then to ensure I can give my full appreciation for the gifts."

Mordecai nods, resigned to that, and doesn't protest the point further. They have more being polite to people to do.

While the couple stands in reception, a much older Dwarven woman approaches. She's old enough that her hair has gone gray, and stark lines run deep in her face. Next to her is a lanky person, dressed in a tux shirt, and a kilt. Colson inhales sharply at the sight of them, his eyes going a little misty.

"Avah," he says to the dwarf, and then to the person next to her, "Callum." A smile twitches his lips. "You came," he says in a way that suggests that perhaps he didn't expect them to. The dwarven woman waves a hand in the air at the words.

"'Course we did. You didn't think we'd just let ya go off and get married without saying anything," the dwarf says gruffly. Her accent is almost imperceptible, her Common sounding more like Stormwind than Ironforge.

"I thought…" Colson starts, but he seems almost overwhelmed, and doesn't finish the sentence. Callum up nods at Colson. Colson inclines his head back.

"Yeah, well. Figure it's been long 'nuff," Avah says, scuffing a boot on the stone. She sucks on her teeth a bit. "Haven't heard from you in 'while. Got news ya went through the portal." She scrutinizes Colson, who nods. "Yeah, well. Guess ya found yer 'path' then?" She says, looking back and forth between Colson and Mordecai. Surprisingly, Colson breaks into a wide grin, briefly, before it fades.

"Yes," he says with finality to the word, as though it's the only thing he's sure of in the world. "I found it."

Mordecai looks at the two of them for a moment, smiles politely, and mumbles a quiet, "Thank you for coming." It does seem to register to him that these two guests are actually significant to Colson, though, and he squeezes Colson's hand gently. His smile gets a little less forced and a little more real.

Colson smiles at Mordecai, happiness radiating from the paladin, as Avah and Callum move along, before Callum stops, turns on their foot, and says, "Write," to Colson. The paladin huffs a faint laugh. "I will," he promises. Callum seems satisfied with this answer, and they move along, Avah holding up a hand to Colson that seems to mean something to Colson. He looks very pleased from such a short interaction, and he squeezes Mordecai's hand in return.

"I can't believe they came," he says in a low voice, seemingly mostly to himself, as he watches the two leave.

At some point during the evening, Ralaea begins to notice how warm it is, wearing armor at an event like this. Really notice. She picks up a glass from the nearest server (it happens to contain wine) and drinks it as though it's water. This happens more than once. Despite her desire to leave early, she does her duty and stays until the last, finally stumbling towards the exit when all the guests have cleared out. Barely through the doorway, she runs into a priestess, once again come to clean up, probably. No, not a priestess. The priestess. From before, in the ceremony hall. The rest of her night is an incomprehensible blur, and she does not remember leaving the Cathedral.