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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | At long last, Priscilla Moore and Bertrand Aspenwood are married in a large, Society wedding with many attendees. The ceremony is (un?)surprisingly brief, the kiss is (un?)surprisingly long. 7800~ words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
It’s an idyllic early afternoon summer day of a wide open blue sky dotted with cotton ball clouds that only emphasize how broad the countryside horizon is here in the western Elywnn valley. The Aspenwood estate is a large verdantly green acreage of perfectly rolling sweeps of tiered slopes filled with precisely neat rows of wine grapes. Perched on the peak, at the farthest end along a well laid country road, is the manor itself, a stately three story building of perfect symmetry, flawless glass windows, and smooth golden stone.
All along the front drive staff wait to attend to guests arriving by carriage or horse, as their preference may be, clad in immaculate black and white suits that seem to quite literally magically repel the dirt and dust. There is a shaded area by the house by the staff entrance, a place for footmen and carriage drivers to rest comfortably while they wait for their charges.
In the front of the house, the Duchess and Duke Aspenwood stand in the shade of the awning to greet arriving guests.
Clara Aspenwood as mother of the groom wears a flattering and perfectly correct gown of winsome silk blue, simple and elegant, her graying blonde hair allowed to fall in a gentle wave across one shoulder. She does not smile, but her expression is mild and open.
William Aspenwood stands beside her, looking a decade older than he has before, in a light blue suit of no remarkable appearance, leaning slightly on a cane of vibrant gold leafed wood adorned with birds carved as if startled up and caught in flight, painted in splashes of blue and yellow. There’s some grief that lingers in his eyes, but his welcoming smile is kind and bright as the day.
To the left, skirting around a decorative stone pond, a pathway of light wire fencing and ribbons guides guests to the back of the house to an octagonal gazebo made of stone and glass, the doors open wide and decorated in an arch of white myrtle and fragrant volkamenia, where the wedding party waits inside the gazebo for the arrival of the guests.
Avrenne, Duchess Esprit of Lordaeron, Baroness Fallon of the Stormwind Fallons, stands regally on the bridal left side, her hands folded in front of her – left over right, her own sparkling diamond and sky sapphire wedding ring prominent on her hand – with all the attitude of someone posing for a portrait. Her yellow gold dress is a picture of artistic elegance, smooth satin silk encasing her petite figure, with an asymmetrical peeking of crystal beading, the ruching and folds lending some element of disguise for the different shape of her body only three months postpartum, a small train of fabric gently folding on the ground. Triangular shoulders make her seem a little sharper, and the long sleeves taper down into points above the back of her hands. Her golden hair has been swept up in smooth and intricate waves, and styled into a curled chignon adorned with a gold mignonette hair brooch. She has enough cosmetics on to brighten her complexion, darken her lashes and lines of her eyes, and lend more color to her lips, but nothing more. She looks out at the assembling guests without seeming to stare at anyone in particular, her eyes sometimes flicking from one place to another, but not lingering.
Colson Aspenwood waits patiently on the right groom side, hands at his side in a possibly unintentional military formality. His linen suit is perfectly tailored to him, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, the fabric has been chosen well to bring out a particular shade of light blue in his eyes, and his shoes are a most correct shade of golden brown that fits well with the decor. Of real note, however, is that his hair is only a fuzzy shading of wheat blond, not even quite a full inch of growth, a marker of what was lost in Deathwing’s attack on Stormwind. Still, he seems at ease in the formal waiting, his own wedding band on his finger, and the very faintest of smiles visible in the typical Aspenwood neutral expression. His attention is entirely absorbed by observing the guests entering and staring adoringly at his husband.
Inside the gazebo itself waits Elodie Gardner, commonly referred to within the 7th Legion as the Scarlet Bride. Her robes are a soft ivory color, and her face is obscured a little by a gauzy veil. The only obviously Scarlet thing about her at the moment is her long, curly, and vividly red hair, which has been pulled back into a loose ponytail. She is seated on a bench with her back to the audience, who can see her through the glass.
Spread out on the lawn before the gazebo are hundreds of delicate white wooden chairs in mathematically exacting spaces from each other in both row and column, with no separation at all of sides between the bride and groom, and space in the back for standing room. Vivacious yellow and linen blue ribbons woven along the backs of chairs flutter in the faint breeze.
Flowers adorn most places, the same few repeated here and there to brighten. The main bouquet arrangement is a circular Biedermeier style of soft petaled wildflowers in cheerful yellow and sweet blues. The brightest coreopsis flowers mingle with ox-eye daisies on the outer ring of the foundation, blending into another of vibrant yellow poppies and gentle buttery yellow cosmos, which lead into a ring of white gloxinia and vivid gorse that frame an effusion of blue violets with their dots of yellow centers, and culminating in a heart of wide star blue balloon flowers.
The band of a four string quartet assembled on the lawn to the right of the gazebo plays a sweet and lively melody, with spirited bright notes of barely contained joy, welcoming the assembled to share in the festivities as they gather. (("Four Season, Op. 8, Spring: Allegro" - performed by Itzhak Perlman and the London Philharmonic Orchestra))
There is another presence already in place, discreet but unavoidable, of Stormwind Guards on the perimeter, spaced evenly around with an emphasis on having many in at least partial shade, standing in uniform and armor. Their weapons are not drawn, but they are armed. There are simply too many high ranking guests to not have the guard, but there are some possibly familiar faces among them.
Around the perimeter, standing guard, are Lathrik, Tabiana, Reniya, and Joelle. All are dressed in the blue and gold of the Alliance, swords sheathed at their sides. Joelle keeps glancing at the sky, until Lathrik shoots him a disapproving glare and he stills.
Seated in the front row of seats are more of the Aspenwoods. The aisle seat on the right and the seat next to it have been reserved for Lord and Lady Aspenwood, and to the left the spots reserved for her parents sits Cressidha. All physical evidence of her fatigue as of late has been covered up with cosmetics, and she sits as straight-backed as ever in a pale blue gown, staring vacantly off into space. Her long hair is braided into an elaborate style.
On Cressidha's left is Mordecai Aspenwood. His head is turned towards his eight year old cousin-in-law, Arnold "Arnie" Aspenwood, who is telling him a story about a toy store. The seat on Arnie's other side is also reserved, likely for his mother, who is surely nearby somewhere.
EARLY ARRIVALS
Arriving early are some of those of Avrenne's household. Finley is well groomed in a golden brown summer suit, his hair styled off his face and starting to curl around his neck. He is clean shaven, and while he is not composed as his lady, his face is not the bland butler mask either, just a faintly amused, slightly guarded smile. Isla is on his arm, dressed in a poof of flouncy sunshine yellow that hits her at mid-calf, her long hair braided in a way that was probably neat earlier and is now equally poofy as her dress. She is beaming and occasionally swooning dreamily at the romantic details of the wedding. Trailing behind them is a young man with a dandelion fluff of strawberry blond hair, dressed in a pale-nearly-white blue suit. Otto holds onto a ribbon with both hands, fidgeting with it as the three find their seats near the front of the chairs a row behind the Aspenwoods.
Vice Admiral Siamus Fallon approaches to greet the Duke and Duchess, smiling. Rather than the dress uniform he usually wears for formal occasions, he is dressed today appropriately for an outdoor summer wedding: His suit is of light blue linen, his waistcoat of a yellow-ivory linen embroidered with pale blue birds.
He carries an additional accessory in the form of his infant daughter. Lady Ery Blanche Arielle Parrish Esprit Fallon is swaddled in a dress of sunny yellow tulle embellished with oxeye daisies, little daisy-topped socks to match, and a daisy-patterned bonnet. She squints out at the world black-eyed and suspicious from beneath the bonnet’s shadow, holding her hands close in small, squashed fists as though she is prepared to fight the day.
Siamus could not look prouder or more aglow if he were carrying a Grand Admiral’s commission.
Lady Sintha Fallon enters with her brother and niece.
At least, it looks like Lady Sintha Fallon. She has bangs, and an amber-eyed gaze that seems to miss nothing, and a sharp, knowing smile. But she is dressed not even remotely like Lady Sintha Fallon: She is wearing an egregiously pink ballgown with enormous skirts of fluffy layered tulle, and puffed tulle off-the-shoulder sleeves. She looks as though a small child offered to dress her as a princess for the afternoon. She holds her chin high, her eyes very bright.
Lord Arric Falrevere trails in just enough after the Fallons that he is likely not with them per se. He is dressed in biscuit-colored linen with sky blue accents that bring out his eyes, and his ginger hair is perhaps slightly TOO tamed to be flattering. His suit, however, is the absolute height of fashion. In Kul Tiras. Who knows what it looks like to the locals.
Sintha turns to twinkle conspiratorially over her shoulder at Arric. Is there a conspiracy? Who knows?
Arric beams at her congenially!
A little gnome flounces in without a date, her platinum hair for once cascading down her back under a loose, wreath-like twist. Given gnome proportions, her hair nearly trails the ground behind her.
Her pale blue dress is designed to call attention - the neckline is designed with a sheer panel that makes the abstract embroidery of it give the effect of a flock of small birds gently taking off into the sky of her dusky (for a gnome) decolletage. The skirt, what little there is of it with her proportions, ends at the floor in a pale froth.
Hurrying behind Natlee is another gnome, silver hair swept up in a casual messy updo that probably took most of the morning to arrange. Her dress is beaded violet, with a corseted top, low puffy sleeves, and a wide skirt that should probably be tea-length but on her it brushes the grass as she walks. She lifts the skirt to an almost scandalous degree, not wanting to trip over it.
Natlee falls back a little to fuss over the other gnome. Something in her demeanor suggests that the other gnome is a Project of some sort that she is going to be graded on maybe.
"It's too long," Glyphe insists to Natlee. "I'm gonna trip."
"It's perfect," Natlee asserts. "You're an absolute doll. Trust me, okay? Just hold it up like this and lean on me if you have to. It'll be fine." She treats Glyphe like a posable doll, with no concern for her personal space, as she shows her how exactly to hold her skirt as she walks.
Natlee and Glyphe could probably share a chair. But they do not.
Taeavon comes wearing a fine, deep blue, elven style suit. His hair and beard have even been freshly cut for the occasion, making him cut a particularly dashing figure. Arriving alongside him is his mother, Archmage Thuraniel Noonshade. Thuraniel is adorned in a slinky red gown. The garment itself is fairly plain as to not draw undue attention to herself given the occasion, but given her natural beauty and commanding aura she can’t help but do so a little anyway. Her hair is pinned up neatly on her head and her jewelry is minimal, being limited to gold earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet on her right hand.
The living members of House Lysander arrive together in a single carriage. Lady Lysander waits inside while her daughter Alaisa unfolds her wheelchair. Kyris unfolds a white parasol and attaches it to his mother's chair. Lord Lysander gives instructions to the carriage driver and then offers his good arm in escort to his lady wife, who settles herself comfortably in the chair. Lord Lysander and his son both wear black suits in stubborn defiance of the day's temperature. Lady Lysander and her daughter are dressed in black dresses. Alaisa's, at least, has short sleeves.
They stop to greet the Lord and Lady Aspenwood on their way in, arranged in twos: Lord Lysander walks next to his wife, while Kyris pushes his mother's chair and Alaisa walks behind her father.
The Lysanders take spots all the way behind the 200 chairs, in what might be considered standing room, perhaps in solidarity with Lady Lysander, who is in a wheelchair.
"We can just move a couple chairs," Kyris mutters to his parents.
"I'm fine here," Renna Lysander insists. "And the chairs are all so perfectly arranged."
Count Elohad Ference arrives in a jaunty blue seersucker suit with a light blue bow tie and white pocket square. Countess Niris Ference, on her husband’s arm, is dressed in a sweeping gown of white patterned with bold blue flowers; the low-cut square neckline is gathered, the long sleeves full and loosely-draped. She is carrying a fan, and gazes around with benevolent interest. She might just be surveying the plants.
Distractedly, she allows her patient husband to squire her to seats near the front.
Taeavon lights up and waves to Elohad when he sees him enter.
Ismene Hazan enters on the arm of her husband. She's wearing a green tulle off-the-shoulder tea length gown embroidered (naturally) with pink flowers and darker green stems that reach down from the bodice and waist, then up from the hem. A tiny green ribbon encircles her waist, tied with a pretty bow. Her hair is done up and secured in a fantastic creation of gold wire, opals, and pearls creating flowers that gleam against her soft brown hair. Those who know her may mark her subdued attitude. Though she wears a polite smile, it's lacking its usual vivid brightness and her deep brown eyes have no sparkle to them. She may even seem to be leaning on Ben far more than the smooth turf would make necessary.
Lieutenant Ben Hazan’s hair has been combed neatly, which is how you know it’s Formal. His suit is a light brown summer linen, and he sports a bow tie and matching pocket square in ivory patterned with leaves and tiny pink blossoms, to match his wife’s dress.
Ben squires to the chairs beside his parents, and hands her down carefully into her seat as though she is unwell. He nods tightly to both Elohad and Niris, but his attention remains on his wife.
Once she has been seated, he settles beside her and rests a hand on her knee, reassuringly.
MIDDLE ARRIVALS
Ivrianna Atley enters, looking back over her shoulder. She's wearing a cocktail dress, one layer of tulle over linen skirt, with a beaded bodice that's sheer at the waist. Its pale blue color accentuates her blue eyes and black hair. Her hair is up, save for two long strands on either side of her face that brush her cleavage. She is wearing heels, and balances on them despite the turf. She must be walking on her tip-toes.
Sir Dane Atley arrives by carriage. He wears a light blue linen suit, tailored to his hulking form, with a plain white pocket square. His hair is recently shorn, coming down to just the top of his broad shoulders. His beard has been groomed, but still remains full, and combined with the unbroken connection to the hair evokes the appearance of a lion stuffed into a suit, as always. The ends of his chestnut hair have been coaxed by sunlight into a light-blonde honey color. A sturdy wedding band can be seen on his left hand, and the Seal of Wrynn, indicating knighthood, gleams in the sunlight on his right idex finger.
Despite his done up appearance, his brow remains heavy, his jaw remains set, his thick next seeks to break from the confines of his fitted shirt. He cannot, nor does he seem interested in escaping the thuggish appearance that comes naturally to him. If it wasn't for the crispness of his posture, the measured steps he takes, and the dignified invisible aura around him, one might have mistake him for a brute as opposed to a dedicated warrior of the kingdom of Stormwind.
An eternal glare lingers on his rugged features as he growls words at the carriage driver and provides a tip, but a keen eye, perhaps the keenest, might see warmth bleed into his expression as he smartly speed walks to catch up with his wife, not daring to leave the woman unescorted. He sets a hand on her back and leans in to whisper something to her.
Atley steers this woman to seating a row behind Lord and Lady Ference, briefly bending over to offer them both a polite growl of greeting. Otherwise, he lays an arm around his wife and settles in, content to sit back in the sun and have her near.
Ivri murmurs to Dane, "We should have gotten one of those gnome things so we could check in on the baby."
Atley gives her arm a squeeze and leans in to lightly kiss the side of her head without ruining her hair. "Amory'll do fine," he growls lowly, reassuringly, lightly rubbing her arm an appropriate amount for a public, formal setting.
Exiting her carriage awkwardly, like someone who chose a dress and doesn't usually wear this type of thing, is renowned and possibly now infamous lawyer and only daughter of Lord Xandros "Andy" Demasco, Lady Alwynneria "Winnie" Demasco. Her dress is a striped dark navy and cream halter that somewhat evokes the shape suggestion of a suit without being one, tied at the waist to give her form some shape. Her limbs are very pale, like someone who has spent the past many months 99% indoors, but her hair is done nicely and she seems nervously pleased to be there. She takes a seat in the general middle back with her father, dressed genially in a comfortable light tan linen suit, and smiling jovially at the assembly.
Siamus, who has taken a seat toward the front and propped his daughter up on his knee to murmur to her — he may be pointing out people or surroundings, none of which seem to interest the furious-looking infant — glances around himself to survey the newer arrivals. He inclines his head with smiling courtesy to Winnie, and then sort of lifts the baby from his knee as if to hold her up. Is he… showing the baby to Winnie? Look at this fantastic baby, acquaintance of mine.
Winnie looks behind her in case Siamus was holding up this baby to someone behind her. There's just empty chairs still, so she looks back at Siamus, waving shyly first to him, and then she looks at Ery, puffs out her cheeks, making a silly expression before bursting into a wide grin and waving her whole arm to the baby.
Ery just scowls back, in the general direction of the flailing appendage moving for whatever reason people do things. Who knows. She's been here 3-months, not a lot makes sense yet. She does take this opportunity to hit Siamus on the shoulder a few times, maybe she's waving back, maybe she's just fussing.
Siamus has never looked more delighted to be hit. What a fantastic trick, check out this baby's amazing motor skills. He lowers her again to his lap and resumes murmuring seriously to her.
Sintha, meanwhile, has taken a seat at the opposite end of the row from her brother — we don't know him — and looked around for Arric again. When she spots him, she pats the empty chair beside hers.
Rozalin arrives on foot wearing a lovely yellow gown that goes down just below her knees along with a burgundy suede bodice and a matching pair of boots. Her hair is braided back in a single long, French braid and she wears some tasteful, if uninspired, makeup. Her clothes have a decidedly rustic, cottagecore look to them, but they are very nice and well made, still perfectly at home for a formal setting. Most importantly, however, the dress has pockets.
Count Lester Amerith arrives in his usual grey suit, with Almeiria on his arm. She is wearing a delicate purple off the shoulder dress, her hair in loose waves. They do not match, but perhaps the Count prefers it that way.
Alysson Mondragon arrives in a brown jacket and white shirt, with brown pants. It isn’t quite a suit, but it’s fancy, for Alysson. On his arm is Miranda Wylderson, wearing a simple green dress with no adornments. She is probably the one who forced Alysson to dress up.
The Ashewood family arrive together, each darker of hair than the next. Only Baron Leor Ashewood's has lightened with streaks of grey. He is a man of imposing presence and severity, if not particularly in physicality. His wife, Lady Vianca, balances his seriousness with a maternal warmth extended to everyone she greets. Their son, Kendyll, has the look of a deer caught in torchlight, gawking in awe at the huge gathering, and seemingly only moving forward due to the force of the wake his father creates.
Then there is Kenelly, the youngest of the Ashewoods. She shares her mother's brightness, though it is momentarily subdued as she enters a new and uncertain field. She is attired in a long gown of vibrant, sunlight yellow with draping, translucent white sleeves. Flowers are embroidered all up the front of the dress and sleeves, as if they grew from the ground and just clung to the fabric and stayed there.
The Ashewoods settle into seats somewhere in the middle—not so close to the front as to suggest great familiarity with the bride and groom, but not so far back as to allow the impression they are not people of standing.
As Kenelly steps past her father, he leans close and whispers harshly, "Pay attention, girl. Weddings brings out the amorous sides of eligible suitors. Surely at least one of them might overlook your…affliction."
Kenelly simply bobs a respectful curtsey and murmurs, "Yes, Father," before taking a seat between her mother and elder brother.
Velrin, Nylarria, and Celaven all arrive together. Velrin is wearing a deep turquoise silk pantsuit with teal accents on the trim. Overtop of this she wears an elaborate set of silver body chains that is decorated all over with little moon charms and colorful hippogryph feathers. On her feet she wears black traditional Kaldorei foot coverings that cover her foot in a stirrup style leaving her toes and heel exposed with some decorative silver plating on top and a matching set of long fingerless gloves with similarly matching silver vambraces on top. Around her neck she wears a silver leaf-shaped necklace as well as a silver crescent moon circlet on her brow. Her hair lays free on her back and shoulders as it always does, but her feather charm hangs prominently down the side of her chest, having been very conspicuously braided into a lock of hair hanging in front of her rather than on the side where she would usually place it.
The much shorter Nylarria, however is wearing a black velvet gown. It is close fitting on the arms and chest with a long neck and long sleeves that terminate in points covering the back of her hands. The skirt of the dress hangs loosely around her waist, but there is a large section cut out around the front of her right leg. Instead, she has a matching velvet stocking that comes up just under her red brand while her left leg is left bare. On her hands and feet she wears matching black leather gloves and short boots. The ensemble is accented with a thin silver belt, a pair of bracelets and anklets, and finally a circlet from which hangs a dark silk veil which covers her face. Her hair is braided in a more complicated way than normal, with a couple small braids being incorporated into her usual simple three strand braid that hangs down to her knees behind her back. Overall her outfit is careful to cover as many of her scars as possible, but showing her brand and some of the scarring on her leg was unavoidable.
Celaven wears his usual blue and silver priest robes. He looks around politely, and moves to find a set of three chairs for them all to sit.
Estel arrives on horseback in a very frilly blue and white dress more suited to a porcelain doll than a human, except that it has pockets. She passes off her horse's reins to a groom, waves to the Aspenwood parents, and heads on after the others like she has every right to be here. Which she does.
Captain Zath Tyrrell arrives in what is apparently his one (1) formal look - a 7th Legion dress uniform. Despite the festive, airy surroundings and generally joyful vibe, Zath seems to be carrying even more of a Dark Storm Cloud over his head than usual. He looks as though he absolutely dares you to attempt to socialize with him. Despite this, there is a very pretty young woman on his arm.
Lady Halliday Tyrrell holds her dire husband’s arm in an anxious clasp and gazes around her with childlike awe, her grey eyes enormous. She wears a high-waisted gown of pale rose silk, its buttons tiny pearls; her bodice has an overlayer of brocade embroidered in vines of pink and green, and ribbons of the same embroidered brocade trail down her skirts. The tumble of her flaxen hair is gathered back in a pearl hairnet.
Siamus, who was possibly trying to get Elohad's attention with his baby, sits up and attempts now instead to get Zath's attention. Sort of. He is distracted by the rosy confection on Zath's arm. He may even have forgotten the baby for a moment.
Ery, perhaps sensing this, hits him again.
Zath directs his wife toward the groom's side and guides her gently into a chair as though she were infirm in some way. Once she is settled, Zath snaps right back to seeming forbidding and gloomy and as though he is under the impression that he is attending a funeral. For someone who was murdered. Officiated by the murderer.
Halliday, meanwhile, fluffs her skirts around her and leans forward with bright-eyed, avid attention, riveted on the gazebo.
The entirety of the 7th Legion's 11th Expeditionary Unit, minus the Scarlet Bride (who is up in the gazebo), has fit into one row of seats somewhere in the middle. Avrayia Coldshadow has not brought her spirit bear.
Thuraniel guided her son to some seats off to the side. She does her best to be unobtrusive as a guest.
Terrineth on the other hand is not used to this kind of formality and isn’t quite sure what to do. She picks a place to sit seemingly at random.
Yveris emerges from some shadow or other wearing a green dress commonly seen during the lunar festival. Maybe it’s the only finery she owns. Still, she seems happy enough to attend another party, and takes a seat near the back so as not to block anyone’s view.
Peril Farrens appears, because of course he does, this is a fabled event years in the making. He wears a nice brown suit to match his hat, and no he will not take that off, thank you.
Devon Tennerow sits near the back of the seats, wearing a nice cream-colored suit with a burgundy vest. He's accompanied by a woman roughly his age, and by her side are two children, boys.
Ralaea arrives via a large grey ram, wearing a black dress with long sleeves that she will probably regret when the sun gets too powerful. She finds a chair and tries sitting in it, but after a minute of tugging at the skirt of the dress, she finds somewhere in the back to stand with her arms crossed.
Jenzelle arrives shortly after Ralaea, wearing a sunny orange sun dress and a big smile. A wedding! How wonderful!
Brendol Westwind arrives looking like he barely deserves to be in such a place. He is, at least, wearing a light brown suit, simple and inexpensive, and when he notes Jenzelle’s presence, his face reddens.
LATER ARRIVALS
Kalindra arrives with her fiancé, Leric, on her arm. The couple are dressed in royal blue with their hair put up into blue feathered headdresses reminiscent of a peacock.
Lady Gardenia Aspenwood emerges from the staff entrance on the side of the building and hurries to take her place in the front row of seats. She does not have her youngest child with her.
She's not late but she is near the end of the arrivals, a woman with smooth tanned skin and silken dark hair, arriving from a very stripped down bare bones carriage. She refuses the assistance of the footmen who come to help her out, choosing instead to leave the carriage on her own with the use of rough made crutches. Her dress is about a decade out of date in fabric and style, but it fits her beautifully, black bodice and cerulean skirt, in inspiration from the blue morpho butterfly. Not seen in Society for over 9 years, Natalyah Kensington-Whit, of the Elwynn KWs, makes her way doggedly (ha ha because worgen) to the back seating, claiming a chair for herself at the aisle, sitting straight backed and watching the assembly like she expects she might be kicked out at any point.
Lukas Rhenardt, Lord Graves, enters just on the edge of late, looking sterner than is appropriate for a wedding. His formally-cut suit is black, his waistcoat smoke grey, his tie a deeper charcoal grey; he could be attending a wedding or a coronation or a ball or a funeral, and whichever it is he looks slightly impatient for it to be over. He surveys the scene with an opaque, inscrutable gaze, and his jaw does a tic at the corner.
He finds a seat toward the back and settles into it.
Following after Lord Graves is Thaniel Clay in his human form, wearing his cleanest outfit, which is trousers and a button-down shirt. He falls behind a little on the walk towards the seats, but when he does reach the chairs, he sits down quietly next to Lord Graves.
Isyldir sits in the middle-back, because he is very tall and did not arrive early. He's wearing his Cobalt Company tabard over mail armor that has been scrubbed very clean, because he is a draenei and hopefully people will understand that he doesn't understand dress codes. His raptor is, thankfully, nowhere in sight.
CEREMONY
As the last of the guests trickle in, the Duchess and Duke Aspenwood, parents of the groom, leave their positions of greeting to walk to the front with their family seats, their pace a reasonably slow speed to accommodate William's slower, cane-aided walk.
Bertrand steps out of the staff entrance on the side of the building, to the right of the line of chairs, wearing a light blue suit with darker royal blue accents. His blonde hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. He takes in the sight of the crowd with a big grin and walks with long-legged strides up to the front. He takes the time to pick out and wave to individuals he knows, looking directly at Kenelly, Glyphe, Natlee, Slicket, Zath, and his former unit. Then he leans halfway into the gazebo. "Gardner," he says to the Scarlet Bride. "You ready?"
The Scarlet Bride emerges and takes her place beneath in the doorway of the gazebo, her shaking hands clasped together. From underneath the veil, her eyes scan the crowd.
"It's okay," Bertrand tells her a little more quietly. He squeezes her shoulder. "We've got lots of paladins here. There won't be any trouble, and if there is, it'll get handled, and everything will be fine."
The Scarlet Bride nods to him. "I hope so," she says in a low, tremulous voice, and straightens up, shooting a glance at the band.
Colson glances at the Scarlet Bride at Birdie's affirmation that there are paladins here, and he inclines her head politely to her in confirmation. "Everything will be fine," he adds verbally, in his Paladin Voice. "You are doing very well."
The Scarlet Bride scans the crowd from behind her veil like she's looking for someone or something. She hugs her arms to herself, trembling. At Colson's reassurance, she seems to steady herself.
Avrenne's eyes flick from her look out at the guests to the Scarlet Bride, Bertrand, and Colson, and back. She says nothing, but she does keep her manner absolutely confident and as though nothing unusual is going on. It is standard practice to offer a pep talk to one's officiant, and she dares anyone to question Lord Bertrand's behavior.
Glyphe waves eagerly to Birdie and whaps Natlee on the shoulder. "Look, there's Birdie! Hi Birdie!"
"Oh my gosh he is so hot right?" whispers Natlee just a little too loudly to Glyphe about the groom.
Siamus silently agrees.
Ismene folds her hands over Ben's and gives it a pat. There there, Ben. "Everyone looks so nice," she says. "It's a perfect day, don't you think?"
Ben nods, and then remembers to look around. It is. Is it? Yeah okay it is.
He sits back at the opening strains of music and then cranes over his shoulder for a view of the bride.
One of the women of the band sets down her violin and picks up a guitar, as another readies her violin, bending a little like a willow in the breeze. Together, they open with an engaging melody, beginning with a gentle beckoning and slowly rising to build a rush of emotion that after all these years, at last, and yet as if it had always been, here they are, together. The waiting of a metaphorical if not literal thousand years comes to close, in the sweetest culmination of enduring love. (("A Thousand Years" - cover by Stringspace))
Lady Priscilla Moore rounds the corner of the building and begins to walk along the row of chairs on the west side, closer to the garden. Her wedding gown is white with tiny yellow flowers, leaving her shoulders bare, and it is not long enough to trail on the grass. It is taking her great patience to stick to the beat of the music and not just run all the way to the wedding arch. As she sees Sintha, she gasps, raising a hand to her mouth, and misses a step. She clutches that hand to her chest and gives Sintha the biggest trying-not-to-cry smile imaginable.
Once Priscilla gets close enough to actually see her groom, she tunnel-visions on him, still smiling.
Sintha sits up and beams at Priscilla, looking a little watery herself.
Isla bursts loudly into tears at the sight of Priscilla. Finley rushes a handkerchief out and tries to hush her.
Avrenne gives Priscilla a small smile.
Atley briefly flicks his gaze towards the Scarlet Bride and her security sweep, before he discreetly performs one of his own, noting the guards, and only then does he look to the bride, expression hard but appreciative of the moment.
Siamus holds Ery up to get a view of Priscilla in her dress. Ery gives absolutely zero fucks and waves her tiny fists angrily until she is put down again. At least she is not yelling. What a great baby.
Glyphe struggles around in her chair to eye Birdie's bride. She shoves her dress around to make it happen.
Kenelly gazes in awe at Priscilla in her beautiful dress. It's the first she's actually seen of the bride. She whispers to her mother about how lovely she looks.
Niris leans over to rest her head briefly on Elohad's shoulder, smiling at the young couple.
Rozalin watches the proceedings with a smile. She’s happy for the couple, but she is a little jealous of them, especially considering she came alone.
Velrin sits there with stars in her eyes. She loves this sort of thing. She’d always found human wedding ceremonies to be so romantic. Nylarria sits still next to her. Any confusion at the proceedings is concealed by her even manner and whatever else isn’t is covered by her veil.
Bertrand stares at his bride-to-be as she approaches with his mouth hanging slightly open. To his credit, he is at least staring at her face, although the rest of her can't have escaped his notice.
As Priscilla takes her place under the archway across from him, she reaches up and taps her fingers once underneath Bertrand's chin. Bertrand blinks a few times and then grins at her. "Hey, Scilla."
"Hey, yourself," Priscilla says quietly, and takes his hand. She looks at Avrenne with giddy excitement.
Avrenne's smile goes a little warmer to Priscilla, but she deliberately directs her attention from Priscilla to the Scarlet Bride with the air of a high ranking noblewoman supporting the officiant's draw of the crowd. Pay attention everyone.
"My, there are a lot of you," says the Scarlet Bride, looking at the crowd. "Welcome! Thank you all for coming. Today, Lord Bertrand Aspenwood and Lady Priscilla Moore will be joined in holy matrimony under the Holy Light of Creation. Marriage is a sacred trust, one of legality and fidelity, born of promises kept." To the couple, she says, "And I understand that the two of you promised yourselves to each other quite some time ago."
Someone in the audience laughs - it's the gnome in the 11th Expeditionary Unit, Swish Fizzrocket, a brown-haired gentleman with a magnificent moustache by gnomish standards.
"Time to do it again," says the Scarlet Bride, and it sounds rather like friendly teasing.
Bertrand grins and nods.
"Yes, please," Priscilla says, chuckling.
Colson's low chuckle comes a beat on the heels of Priscilla's own.
Ralaea looks a little blank. Maybe she doesn't get it.
There's a grunt somewhere from the crowd.
The Scarlet Bride turns to Bertrand. "Lord Bertrand Aspenwood, do you swear before the Light to take Lady Priscilla Moore as your lawfully wedded wife, and to love, to respect, to defend, and to honor her throughout all of your days?"
Bertrand looks into Priscilla's eyes as he says, "I do swear."
Colson looks away from the couple to Mordecai, his expression soft with a gentle smile.
In the front row, Mordecai makes eye contact with his husband. While the attention of the ceremony is focused on the couple, he uses his thumbs and forefingers to make a little heart shape with his hands.
Avrenne keeps her eyes on the Scarlet Bride.
"Lady Priscilla Moore, do you swear before the Light to take Lord Bertrand Aspenwood as your lawfully wedded husband, and to love, to respect, to defend, and to honor him throughout all of your days?"
Priscilla barely waits until the Scarlet Bride is done speaking to say, "I do swear."
Siamus gives a soundless laugh at the swiftness of Priscilla's vow. He is holding Ery propped against his shoulder now, and the baby appears to be dozing with one small fist in her mouth, now that her father has ceased waving her around.
Ismene leans a little against Ben, her smile more relaxed and true now.
Ben turns his hand beneath Mizzy's to squeeze hers. He glances down at her with a soft smile of his own.
"I call upon the Light to bear witness to these vows," says the priestess, and there's a flash of golden Light that glints in her eyes, underneath the veil, before it fades. "I pronounce you wed, Lord Bertrand Aspenwood and Lady Priscilla Aspenwood."
Bertrand takes a small step closer to his new wife. Priscilla looks very expectantly at the officiant.
As a quick, blushing afterthought, the Scarlet Bride adds, "You may kiss."
Someone in the audience whistles. It could not possibly have been Sintha Fallon, who is angelic in her floofy pink gown.
Priscilla presses her lips to Bertrand's. His hand comes up to cup her jaw and hold her in place. It's not the smoothest first kiss, but it lasts an inordinate amount of time, and the two of them seem to be making some adjustments and improvements on the go.
The Scarlet Bride clears her throat quietly.
Either Bertrand or Scilla don't take the hint, they're ignoring the priestess entirely, or the two of them have simply fallen into their own little world again. It seems like they're trying to fit ten years' worth of chastity and patience into one kiss. It's not messy, it's not loud, but the two of them simply will not separate.
Siamus's laugh this time is not soundless.
Ivri tips her face back and purses her lips at Dane.
Atley raises his hand to squeeze the back of Ivri's neck. He leans down to meet her lips with his own.
After a shorter time than the newest bride and groom, he claps, bringing strong hands together, his rings occasionally clinking with the contact.
Avrenne stands there for a rather long period of time trying to enforce normalcy on this moment, and then she turns to the crowd to clap her hands once. "The Lord Bertrand Aspenwood and Lady Priscilla Aspenwood," she calls, her voice carrying effortlessly across the expanse of guests.
The priestess stares past the couple into the crowd. Hundreds of people. Please help her, hundreds of people. The Scarlet Bride darts a look at the matron of honor and the best man, her blush visible underneath the veil. "Thank you all for coming!" she says, loudly, addressing the audience. "There's… food… please enjoy the rest of the afternoon… The reception is, erm…" She points.
Priscilla and Bertrand still have not gotten the hint. Maybe they've malfunctioned and just gotten stuck in a kissing loop. It's actually still their first kiss, gosh.
Sintha begins to applaud. Applaud, everyone. Perhaps they will recognize Finale.
The row of the 11th Expeditionary Unit begins to applaud as well. They get it.
Avrenne is already moving out the gazebo, starting the guide for the guests to the reception area as the Scarlet Bride speaks. Ignore the couple, people, follow the line.
Siamus does not applaud. He seems interested to see how long this might go on.
Niris puts her head on Elo's shoulder again and hides her smile with some vigorous fan action.
Elo whispers something to her that makes him blush.
Ralaea looks away, because public kissing. She doesn't clap, because that's encouragement, right? Maybe they'll stop on their own.
Bertrand pulls back and whispers to his wife, "We can do that all the time now."
Priscilla, blushing pink, takes his hands and clasps them in hers. "Goodness. We can." She turns to the audience with a huge smile.
Bertrand looks sharply at the audience. He grins and takes a little bow without releasing his wife's hands. "Thank you, thank you!"
Glyphe applauds happily and, finding that not enough to signal her enthusiasm, puts two fingers to her mouth and whistles, loud and sharp.
Natlee gives Glyphe a sharp disapproving frown that almost instantly dissolves into a cascade of girlish giggles.
Lady Ery, startled awake by her first encounter with applause, lets out a surprisingly loud squall of objection. Her father rises hastily to his feet and excuses his way out of the row of seats to tote the hollering infant away for a stroll around the pond.
Kenelly applauds enthusiastically. Most of the Ashewoods join in her joyful celebration. Baron Leor gives a subdued clap.
Mordecai, who has covered his face with his hands, peeks through his fingers at the sound of the couple's voices and relaxes, lowering his hands. His face is bright red. He quickly gets out of his seat, holding a hand out for Colson.
Colson steps out of the gazebo to take Mordecai's hand, pausing briefly to brush a stray curl from his husband's forehead, and then offering to lead the way to the food and cake.
Glyphe smiles brightly at Natlee. "Let's go get cake!" she says.
Natlee clearly and exaggeratedly mouths YUM with wide eyes, and hops out of her chair in agreement.
Sintha rises from her seat, floofs her pink skirts out to Maximum Floofage, and then holds a slightly imperious hand out to Arric. "Now you are going to meet everyone," she informs him.
"As you wish, my lady!" says Arric gallantly, not even bothering to hide his boyish excitement at the whole idea.
Sintha tows him cheerfully toward the reception area.
Atley pushes himself up, chair squeaking underneath the release of his weight. He offers a hand, and then an arm, to his wife, escorting her with whatever gentleness he has at his disposal.
Ivri uses his arm just enough to keep her balance in the high-heeled shoes she's wearing. "I want cake," she informs her husband. "Lead me there."
Ben rises and offers Ismene a hand up. "You want some cake an' food? An' let's see the gardens, maybe?"
Ismene holds his hand even after she's risen from her seat. "I'm not really hungry," she says, "but I wouldn't want your growling stomach to frighten the guards. Did you want something to eat first?"
Ben glances toward the tables. "Let's see what they got," he suggests. (That means yes.)
Thuraniel stands up and Tae shoots up after her. He takes his mother’s arm and escorts her to the reception.
“Come on, let’s go so we can say hello to everyone. I think I saw Mordecai and Sir Dane.” Velrin tugs at Celaven’s sleeve. Nylarria remains seated until the other two decide what to do.
Gardenia excuses herself to go back inside the house, possibly to fetch her eighteen-month-old daughter.